#and personally I felt some deep connect when I found out they were leaving

[soul-controller]

The Do-Over

This is one of my favorite stories that I've done, so much so that I've been considering bringing this idea back and turning it into a series for Patreon. I hope you enjoy!

As Arthur Saunders peered down towards his kitchen counter, the newly-minted 29-year-old scratched his head as he attempted to understand what he was looking at. It was earlier in the day when he first encountered the medium-sized box as he accidentally kicked it upon exiting his apartment. Despite his own curiosity about the box given the fact that there was no label or return address listed, the man had several birthday-related errands to run and was forced to quickly place the box inside before leaving for the majority of the day.

So despite his slight tiredness upon returning back to his apartment after a lively day of various celebrations with friends and family, Arthur’s mind began to continuously ponder not only what was inside the box but who had sent it. Based on the lack of postage or a shipping label, it was clear that someone had physically dropped the package off on his doorstep. But who would do that and not even knock on the door or attempt to speak with the man?

Although Arthur believed his curiosity was already at its peak, he soon realized that this was not true as he cut open the box and pulled back the cardboard flaps. Sitting in the box was a huge red button with the words “DO-OVER” painted white on the top, which instantly puzzled the young man. Although he assumed the button was all that was inside the box given the slew of packing peanuts that filled most of the box, Arthur gripped onto the button and found that a full contraption was unearthed upon lifting it up and out of the box.

As he set it down on the kitchen counter, Arthur spent a few minutes observing the bizarre item. Although the bright red button was a prominent feature, it was connected to a jet black base that was rounded and nearly double the size of the large button. On the base itself, Arthur discovered two large rectangular LED screens that sat both above and below the large button. Although he could tell that they were meant to display some sort of text or visual, the dull haze of the screen revealed that there was no power to the contraction… at least not yet.

Intrigued about what exactly the device did, Arthur found himself lifting it up and inspecting it in search of a power button. But alas, no such discovery was found by the man, which caused him to set the item down and direct his focus towards the huge box. In hopes of finding some sort of instructions, the man plunged his hand deep into the sea of packing peanuts and aimlessly felt around.

Eventually, the man was able to pick up on the slip of paper that was included in the box and fished it out. Upon grabbing it and holding it out in front of him, the curious man narrowed his eyes as he hoped the paper would provide some much needed explanations.

Dear User, Congratulations on being selected to test out the brand new Do-Over Program. Upon being submitted by an acquaintance of yours, our company has been slowly observing you and your actions for the past few months. Upon noticing your general feelings of stagnation and confusion over your life, we’ve deemed you to be a perfect fit for the program. The device you’ve been provided will allow you the opportunity to do-over your life, which will cause every aspect of your personality to be randomized in hopes of providing you an entirely new and positive outlook towards life. Although such a concept may seem scary, please know that none of these changes are permanent (as long as you don’t wish for them to be). With the perks of being chosen for this program though, our only ask is that for our own research that you wait at least 24 hours before attempting another do-over.  In regards to completing the program, there are two possible options. Firstly, you can continue to explore and test out various different lives and identities until you find one that seems perfect to you. Upon doing so, you can then lock the new identity in, which will cause the device to be retrieved and sent to the next participant in the program. If you do not accept any of the new lives created by the program, there is also another option that will return you to your original life. With this option though, we only recommend it if you have discovered that the entire process has caused you to have a renewed interest and sense of determination of how to move forward. If you choose this option, please contact S-C Enterprises via the provided information and we will send an employee to retrieve the device. Regardless of the end result you choose, we hope you have an enjoyable experience as a part of our program. Sincerely, The Do-Over Team

Upon finishing reading the note and setting the piece of paper onto the kitchen countertop, Arthur found that he now had more questions than he had answers. Who had submitted him to this program, and what did the company mean by saying they’ve been observing him for months? Surely they weren’t actually watching him and observing his online behaviors, right? 

Despite being significantly unnerved by the contents of the note, Arthur couldn’t deny that his curiosity was piqued by the reveal of what the contraption sitting on his counter was capable of. The premise sounded like something straight out of a science fiction 80s film, but it felt surprisingly pertinent to him. 

Although he hated to give props to a group that was apparently stalking him both in person and virtually, it was true that Arthur wasn’t quite happy with the cards he had been dealt with in life. When he first decided to go to university, the concept of being a teacher and helping mold young minds seemed like a rewarding career path. But after several years of actually being a teacher in a posh all-male school, the dull monotony of lessons along with the disrespect from both his students and fellow faculty members left him feeling like a husk of himself. With the constant influx of assignments to mark along with having to create lesson plans, Arthur found that even his own free time in his flat was devoted to his career… which only made him loathe it further.

To make matters worse, the realization that he was now only one year from reaching his 30s left the teacher feeling quite depressed and anxious. Although he knew that he personally loathed his current career choice, the crushing reality of his ever-increasing age meant that it was becoming incredibly unlikely for a last minute career change. Even worse, he had so many other hobbies and dreams that he couldn’t even mentally envision what to do with his life. In his free time, the man loved to write short stories or play video games, but the likelihood of becoming a famous author or Twitch streamer seemed impossible. Overall, his life left him feeling trapped and utterly helpless. 

As he realized just how correct the letter’s assumption of his unhappiness was, Arthur’s eyes soon found themselves peering down to the blocky white text of “DO OVER” plastered across the top of the red button. Although he remained significantly unnerved by the contents of the letter, the bold white letters on the button had an inversely calming effect. Closing his eyes, the text flashed through his mind like an opening night marquee and thus caused the man to envision the endless amount of possibilities that he could have taken with his life. Before he could even comprehend what he was doing, the man reached a hand out and quickly slammed it down onto the bright red button.

The loud noise suddenly emitting from the contraption caused Arthur to suddenly open his eyes and look down in slight fear. As a sound similar to gears whirling seemed to emit from the inner mechanism of the device, Arthur let out a soft scream and jumped in shock as the speed of the noise increased until a booming pop filled his flat. 

Soundtracked by the noise, Arthur watched as a small knob suddenly popped out and revealed itself on the left side of the device. It was perfectly in line with the rectangular LED screen, which left the man curious about if the knob was somehow linked to the screen. Just as he began to reach out to mess with the knob though, both screens suddenly became active and lost their dim and dull display. 

In awe, Arthur watched as the screens finally began to display text. At first, it was just the top screen that went into action, displaying a simple welcome message that addressed him by his full legal name. But upon displaying that message for a few seconds, the screen erased the text as a slew of text emerged. As Arthur watched each statistic display itself though, he quickly realized that it was somehow perfectly displaying accurate descriptions of himself. 

Name: Arthur Saunders Age: 29 Height: 6’1” Weight: 95kg  Physique: Average  Ethnicity: Caucasian Nationality: British

Before Arthur could even attempt to formulate a reaction to what he was seeing, his eyes watched as the bottom screen suddenly roared to life. Looking down to see what was happening, he watched as letter by letter a word was forming. Although he soon figured out what it would say by the fifth letter, Arthur still watched with intense curiosity as the word Randomizing manifested. Just as the “g” finally appeared to finish the word though, Arthur gasped in shock as a loud and shrill whirring noise began to emit from the device.

Unlike the metallic whirring sound that was due to the gears inside the device changing, this whirling was undoubtedly electronic due to its frequency. Out of nowhere, the noise spiked to ear-numbing levels and forced Arthur to grit his teeth while lifting his arms up to shield his ears.

For a few moments the sharp noise maintained its maximum intensity, which continued to just assault Arthur’s eardrums to the point where the usually non-religion man was mentally begging for salvation. To his relief and utter shock, his prayers seemed to work as the noise suddenly halted and caused the entire room to go quiet (besides the intense ringing that was still rattling in Arthur’s ears). 

Unfortunately though, this tranquility didn’t last for long as a bright white light suddenly erupted from the device and completely engulfed Arthur’s modest flat. Frantic to not be blinded by the intense assault on his vision, the man pulled his hands away from his ears expeditiously and used them to cover his eyes. 

Although he had assumed that the assault on his senses had been utterly affected, it seemed this wasn’t the case as Arthur could feel a dull vibration ripple across his entire body. Upon gritting his teeth, the man was left with nothing to do but ride out this uncomfortable sensation that left him feeling as though he was viciously drifting through the ocean.

After what felt like hours, the bizarre sensations riddling Arthur’s body suddenly ceased. Although he was unsure of whether the blinding light that had filled his flat had finally stopped, the confusion and fear over what he had been feeling caused him to take a risk and slowly part his eyelids. Given the blinding light and the deep vibrations that had wrecked his body resembled that of a bomb, Arthur had assumed that his flat would be in some state of disarray. But as he looked around, everything appeared to be exactly like he had last seen it from the slight piling of dirty dishes in his sink to the device that remained on the kitchen counter.

Such a reveal was confusing to Arthur, which caused him to rub his temples and attempt to figure out what exactly he had just experienced. “What the hell wa-” he began, his words suddenly stopped dead in their tracks. As his eyes bulged out in shock, the man lifted a hand up and allowed his fingers to graze along his Adam’s apple. For 29 years of his life, Arthur had always had an average and very clearly British accent when he spoke. But as he talked now, it quickly became clear that it wasn’t the case. Instead, the words that came out of his mouth resembled a deep boom that echoed through his flat and unequivocally American. “Is, is that my voice?” he asked aloud to no one in particular, his body shivering as he realized he wasn’t insane in his first assumption. He truly did sound just like the men he had seen in countless American blockbuster films.

Just as he was on the verge of becoming incredibly panicked over the new voice in which he spoke with, a loud ding suddenly rang out from the device and caused Arthur to look down. Upon doing so, he watched as the bottom screen began to display text. As he watched each line of text display itself, Arthur quickly realized that it was the same stats as the top screen, although they were now being listed in reverse order and displaying very different information.

Nationality: American Ethnicity: Caucasian

Although Arthur felt proud of himself for assuming that his assumption of his new accent was correct, there was also a lingering sense of panic as he finally took a moment to realize that the device was truly randomizing his body and turning him into someone else. With the concept of having a new life to try out now validated, the man looked down with cautious excitement as the next few lines of text began to appear.

Physique: Muscular Weight: 163 lbs Height: 5’11”

Upon watching those three lines of text appear on the screen, a loud gasp instantly escaped from the man’s mouth as he couldn’t believe the concept of becoming incredibly muscular. Although he had a moderate amount of muscle in his arms and legs, it was often clear that he was an average man by the slightly pudgy stomach that was small yet still made itself present in any shirt he wore. It was always a place of insecurity for the man, so when he looked down at himself and noticed that his stomach was completely flat, a relieved smirk manifested onto his face. This smirk quickly turned into a cocky grin though as he reached his hand underneath his shirt and ended up discovering a well-defined six-pack that left his hands feeling as though they were traveling down a brick road.

Despite wanting so badly to explore more of his new physique, Arthur forced himself to stop as the final two lines of text revealed itself to him.

Age: 23 Name: Michael Chad Johnson

Upon learning of his new name and age, the realization that he was now someone entirely different from Arthur Saunders set in. In his mind, it was one thing to gain a muscular physique and another to become an entirely different person. As such, the concept was both incredibly exciting yet also undoubtedly nerve-wracking. In hopes of calming this anxiety though, the man took a moment to remind himself that this could all be temporary and that caused him to take a deep breath and ground himself once more.

With the last of the text now displayed, Arthur wasted no time rushing away from the kitchen counter in hopes of getting a better look at himself. The man made a direct bee-line towards his bathroom, quickly flipping on the light and shutting the door behind him. As the lights above the mirror flicked to life, Arthur felt butterflies in his stomach as he found himself looking at his new visage. He looked so hot!

The man couldn’t help but smile as he looked into the mirror and admired the new features that his face possessed. Not only was he in possession of a well-angled jawline, but his blue eyes were incredibly inviting and at odds with just how classically masculine and intimidating he looked. Although it was only 6 years of age regression, Arthur quickly picked up on some noticeable changes. Given the fact that his new age made it so he wasn’t up late every night planning class lessons and grading papers, there was no indication of the slight wrinkles that had recently begun adorning his face. On top of this, the man also picked up on how his complexion had completely altered, shifting away from a slightly pasty shade to something that was much more well-maintained and tanned.

Eager to see more of his new physique, the man wasted no time taking his shirt off and throwing it aside. Upon turning back to stare into the mirror, Arthur was greeted to the glorious sight of a ripped physique. Although he was momentarily upset by the loss of chest hair that adorned his chest and down his stomach, he quickly accepted the change as he traded it in for an impressive six pack and pair of pecs. 

Not wanting the remaining clothes to hinder his exploration of his new physique, Arthur quickly dropped his pants until all that he was dressed in was a pair of underwear. For several minutes the man was transfixed as he tensed his leg muscles to admire his thick thigh and calf muscles. As he turned around and craned his neck back to the mirror, the man was also relieved to discover he had a prominent yet firm ass now. 

But while all of those aspects were exciting, the sudden strain against the fabric of his underwear caused Arthur to take note of his manhood. While he was admiring himself, he had understandably gotten quite turned on to the point where a rock hard cock was struggling to remain concealed. Unlike his former 5-incher, the manhood he was now in possession of had to be at least 7 inches and twice as thick. As he gripped onto it and gave a slight squeeze, the man moaned as he began to leak pre-cum. This is a dream come true, he thought, allowing one hand to caress his cock while the other flexed and squeezed on his new physique.

So while Arthur was having a blast admiring his new jock body, the device that remained unattended on the kitchen counter was continuing to move onto the next stage as text appeared on the top screen.

Stage Two: Location Alteration Current Location: United Kingdom Residence Style: Flat

Given Arthur’s new identity as an American, the second screen suddenly began to rapidly scroll through all 50 states to settle on his new home along with a list of different housing styles. After a good 15 seconds of bouncing between countless options, the device finally settled on two choices for the new Michael Chad Johnson.

New Location: Virginia Residence Style: Mobile Home

So while Arthur remained in a euphoric state exploring his new body, the man was unaware of the fact that he and his residence had been teleported to a vacant lot in a rural Virginia trailer park. Given the larger plot of land that he now called his own, the man’s flat began to expand and rearrange itself into an expanded rectangular shape. While the magic began to connect all of his piping and electricity to the plot of land, the interior of his new home was being redecorated to give a cozy Americana feel. Although a lot of the man’s original décor remained (such as the few shelves of superhero memorabilia that he had), it was condensed to allow an entire row of shelving to display vintage Americana style décor and signage.

By the time Arthur had finally exited the bathroom to return to the device, the changes to his new residence had finished and immediately threw the now-younger man for a loop. It was so bizarre to discover the new layout of his home as he attempted to navigate his way back to the kitchen. Throughout his journey to return to the device, Arthur also noticed the slew of blank picture frames that now hung off of his walls. It was a bizarre sight for the man to behold, especially as he knew that they would soon be filled with random new images as more of this Michael character’s backstory was created…

Upon returning to the kitchen counter, Arthur Saunders’ return was perfectly timed with the text of the device erasing as the next step in the process began. To his immediate interest, the next stage was revealed to be the announcement of both Arthur’s and “Michael’s” hobbies. Rather than just a text reveal though, the top screen of the device became much more visual as it was divided into three individual sections. As soon as the lines were finished dividing up the spaces, Arthur watched as each individual section began moving up and down. Watching each section rapidly spin up and down, it quickly became clear that the visual was supposed to be reminiscent of a slot machine. After a few more rotations around, each section finally stopped to lock in three emojis.

|🖊️|💪|🕹️|

To Arthur’s amusement, he saw these and immediately realized that they perfectly described his hobbies. Whenever he wasn’t hard at work grading papers or creating lesson plans, the man loved nothing more than writing, working out, or playing video games. Although he shouldn’t have been surprised about how accurate the device was given the magical abilities of it, he still found himself impressed that he could be narrowed down so specifically. 

Soon afterwards, the bottom screen adopted the same visual style and began to aimlessly spin. With intense curiosity, Arthur found himself bent over the counter and excitedly looking down to wonder what his new hobbies would be as Michael. One-by-one, the emojis that formed caused Arthur’s heart to flutter in a tizzy of intense joy.

|📱|💪|🎼|

Although he had no idea what the music emoji would entail, the visual of seeing a cell phone and a flexing emoji back to back left Arthur taking into account his hunky new physique and becoming excited about the concept of being a hunky influencer. While the magic quietly worked itself in the background for a few minutes though, the man began to ponder whether his educated guess was actually right as nothing seemed to be happening. But soon enough, his phone began to go absolutely haywire as a flood of notifications began to ring out and fill the room with an endless sea of dings.

Despite not being able to unlock the phone as it continued to ding and reveal endless notifications, the man’s lock screen was able to provide a decent amount of information as he saw these notifications coming from both Instagram and TikTok. With each like and comment notification flooding his phone, the man’s mind couldn’t help but wonder what his new social media content would be like.

Eventually Arthur was given the opportunity to explore his new social media as the notifications finally stopped after a few more minutes of notification spamming. To start things off he headed over to his Instagram to see what had become of his account. Upon doing so and heading to his account page, the man was flabbergasted to discover that his new account of michaelchad757 had nearly 100k followers. Given the fact that his former account only had 400 followers, the growth was monumental and left Arthur oddly feeling incredibly proud despite not actually being Michael.

Upon clicking on his most recent post, Arthur was immediately turned on by innate confidence that his new self displayed as he smirked for the camera and flexed his mighty biceps. Based on the comments underneath the post, it seemed that Arthur wasn’t in the minority in terms of how hot and bothered his flexing made people feel.

After quickly scrolling through the rest of his post history and finding tons of flexing videos or thirst trap photos that showcased his ripped torso, Arthur was buzzing with excitement to see what sort of visual delights awaited him on TikTok. As such, the man quickly exited out of Instagram and switched over to the other app that had become overloaded with notifications. Upon doing so and heading to his account, Arthur was shocked to discover that his account there was even bigger than his Instagram. With over 250,000 followers and over 2.6 million likes, he was an undeniable TikTok star!

For the most part, his TikTok account was exactly what he expected: an endless slew of thirst traps where he cockily smirked on the camera before removing his shirt and flexing his muscles as a random song or sound soundtracked the video. As he continued to scroll through videos, he found that Michael had a favorite move - popping his pecs to the beat of any song that he used in the video. It was incredibly hypnotizing to watch his plump chest ripple and bounce to the song, which made more sense as to why he was able to amass such a huge following despite being the most vanilla of thirst traps. 

After scrolling through at least 20 videos of his new body doing the same sort of moves while stripping, Arthur found himself thrown for a loop when he came across a video of Michael doing something non-flexing related. Instead, he watched as his shirtless body stood in front of a mirror and instead began to freestyle rap rather than flex. Such a reveal was a huge shock to Arthur, especially as he himself wasn’t much of a rap guy. Pop and alternative were usually his favorite genres, so this new reveal was quite the 180 for the former teacher.

Yet as he exited out of the app to explore his Apple Music, he found that the device had deleted all of his favorite tunes from his library and replaced them with unknown rap songs that Michael seemingly adored. Upon hitting shuffle, the first song that popped up seemed like an instant no to Arthur as the instrumental was a far cry from his usual tastes. But as the beat continued and rapping began, the transformed man found himself absentmindedly perfectly replicating the words and the flow of the rapper. 

Upon allowing the song to finish up, Arthur was somewhat amused by this new quirk. Although he loved his pop music more than anything, he found himself willing to embrace this new change as he viewed this new life as only temporary since he could just do another attempt with the device tomorrow. As soon as this thought crossed his mind, the device seemed to pick up on Arthur’s acceptance of his new situation as the screens lit up once more and began to move to the next stage.

The bright lights of the screen pulled Arthur away from his phone, which caused him to tuck it back into his pants pocket as he devoted his attention to the device once more. While doing so, Arthur quickly discovered that the next stage would be deemed the “mental changes”. As the text quickly deleted itself, the man watched as the screens evolved once more and became more visual. Instead of a slot machine graphic though, each screen revealed a large roulette wheel. 

In a snap, each roulette slot suddenly became adored with various text. While the top screen had a slew of numbers ranging from 70 to 130, the bottom screen’s slots were filled with text that listed various things such as “heterosexual”, “asexual”, “homosexual”. As he read the bottom screen, he was able to quickly figure out that the roulette wheel there was meant to decide his new sexuality. Given his status already as a bisexual, the device had already grayed out that option to make it clear that he was intended to have a new experience with Michael’s life. The top screen remained a mystery for a few minutes before the term “IQ” was suddenly manifested in the middle of the roulette wheel. 

Instantly, the concept of changing his IQ set off alarm bells in Arthur’s mind. The concept of gaining a new body was a dream come true, but the 50/50 chances of becoming either smarter or dumber than what he already was was a risk he was unwilling to take. As such, he tried his best to search for a way to skip the intended changes. But his entire search of the device revealed no skip button and he gulped in fear as the top wheel began to spin just as he set it back down on the counter.

For what felt like an eternity, the wheel continued to just aimlessly spin as if it was taunting Arthur for its impending choice. As such, Arthur’s entire body felt absolutely sluggish as the weight of the upcoming decision weighed on him. To both his relief and horror, the wheel finally decided to stop on the number 74. Given the fact that his IQ had seemingly been in the 100 range based on how that entire range had been grayed out, 74 was an extreme downgrade. 

Instantly, Arthur could feel the intense ripple effect of the IQ choice as his mind was seemingly drained of his knowledge. In no time, it quickly became clear that he wouldn’t be a teacher anymore as all of his university knowledge was sapped away and left him with a high school education. To make matters worse though, Arthur’s knowledge was further impacted as his low IQ made him a piss-poor student with a bare minimum vocabulary. Rather than easily passing all of his classes and graduating near the top of his class, Michael was an obvious idiot who struggled to stay focused on boring class lessons. As more of Arthur’s high school experiences were erased, they were soon replaced with memories that fit a total slacker like Michael. Given his new low attention span and dislike of boring classes, Arthur’s thoughts of high school brought forth new memories of being a total nuisance in class as he loved to disrupt the teacher or sit in the back making small talk with his other jock friends.

This life path as a total himbo also led to an unintended side effect as new memories emerged where Michael opted to go by his middle name of Chad. This was mainly due to the fact that everyone in his friend loved to taunt him and jokingly call him a “total Chad”. Given the fact that his middle name was actually Chad, he opted to forgo his ill-fitting first name and become the complete Chad fantasy that his best bros had heralded him.

Speaking of jocks, Chad’s high school experience made it so the only place he really excelled was in sports. Throughout his 4 years, he had played football, wrestling, and baseball and been the star player on each team. If it wasn’t for his barely passing grades, he could have gotten full-ride scholarships to countless major schools. But alas, the man found himself utterly bored with school by the time the last sports season of the year was over. Rather than wasting his time and waking up early to spend 7 “dull ass” hours trapped in a classroom, Chad dropped out a month before graduation and began to just work out at the gym 24/7. 

This decision had a serious impact on Chad’s life, causing him to get kicked out of his parents’ house and left to fend for himself. Given his jock physique, he ultimately found himself making money occasionally training some pudgy middle-aged loser who wanted to lose weight at his local gym. It was pathetic in Chad’s eyes to watch someone fail to do the bare minimum in terms of workouts, but he refused to make his thoughts known so he could continue making money. After nearly six months of crashing on the couch of his jockish best friends, the man had finally gained enough money to move into a mobile home in a nearby trailer park. 

By the time the second wheel had begun spinning, the light behind Arthur’s vibrant blue eyes had faded, leaving behind simply the dull stare of an idiot himbo. As such, the only reason why the man’s attention was kept by the device was the bright vibrant colors of the wheel as it widely spun around. This transfixion that the device kept on him was maintained even as the wheel stopped spinning and landed on the heterosexual option, so much so that he didn’t even object to such a reveal. 

“Fuck yeah bro, that’s lit!” Chad exclaimed, pumping a fist in the air as deep down Arthur finally submitted to become his ultimate straight jock fantasy. Upon closing his eyes and thinking about what it would be like to be a straight man, Arthur found himself envisioning a blonde bimbo on her knees and looking up with a lustful stare. While this fantasy was helping lead him into this new sexual orientation, the man’s cock was hardening as his memories of love and relationships were altering. 

Rather than being attracted to jocks like his best bros or sweet and kind girls, Arthur’s mind found his memories altering to where he almost exclusively hooked up with members of his high school cheerleading team. There were countless memories where he would be approached after a game by a girl looking to congratulate him for a great performance, which would soon lead to erotic fucking in the locker rooms or baseball dugouts. Although Arthur was once a sensitive lover who was more interested in the emotional connection he had with someone, it was all physical for Chad. He didn’t give a fuck about personality or emotional connection, all that mattered to him was whether a girl had a “banging bod” or not.

Upon the wheel’s effects finally finishing up their changes to the new Chad’s mind, the screens went blank again before announcing that the final stage - career prospects - was about to begin. As Chad looked up towards the first screen, he was utterly confused to see that his career was listed as a “Professional Educator & Aspiring Writer”. He fucking loathed school, so he would never dare to become a loser that spent all of his time dressed up all nice and teaching dumb shit that didn’t matter in real life! The concept of becoming a writer was funny to Chad as well, because he was fully aware of the fact that he was a complete idiot. He loved that fact about himself, so the concept of becoming a writer with his elementary school level writing abilities was hilarious.

After finishing his laugh at the concept of having such loser jobs, Chad watched as the bottom screen lit up and began to display text. His mind was quite confused though as the screen displayed the same text as the top screen: “Professional Educator & Aspiring Writer”. To add more confusion to the mix, the words educator and writer were suddenly erased to leave two large blanks.

As soon as this was complete, Chad jumped in shock as a keyboard suddenly extended out of the device. At first the man had no idea what he was supposed to do, but as he looked at the screen and watched as a text cursor began to blink within the first blank. “Oh shit, it’s like a game huh?” Chad dimly exclaimed, chuckling as he thought about the concept of picking his own career. Although he had the opportunity to pick any possible career that could provide him with a more lavish lifestyle, Chad’s low IQ didn’t allow for such intense thinking. As such, the man’s id led the way as he opted to pursue his immediate impulsive thoughts and typed out his answers. Upon looking it over, the man gave a dopey smile before he pressed the enter button to lock in his answer.

With a loud yet cheerful ringing suddenly emerging upon hitting enter, Chad found himself staring intensely at the bottom screen as more text began to finally fill the screen.

Professional Thirst Trap & Aspiring Rapper * CHOICE ACCEPTED *

Instantly, Chad tilted his head back and gasped as an intense tingle began to massage his skull. Deep within his brain, the jock’s mind was undergoing one final transformation to complete his new life for the day. Although his memories of becoming a worker at his local gym were true, this altered slightly as he became TikTok famous to the point where brands were actively reaching out to do deals and endorsements with him. With such a steady amount of income coming in, the man ultimately quit his job and focused on creating thirst trap content. Now instead of the grueling chore of a 9 to 5, Chad simply spends all of his time now working out and filming vanity videos of himself flexing for the camera.

Given just how fast his brand had grown over the course of the past year, Chad knew that he had his audience in the palm of his hand. So, knowing just how much people thirsted for him (for obvious reasons in his opinion), Chad also found himself making even more money as he opted to open up an OnlyFans account. Despite his OnlyFans account name being Chad Johnson (which always made him chuckle as he was a total Chad and had one glorious Johnson), the young jock was willing to show practically everything besides his impressive manhood. 

Although this was partially due to wanting to keep the ladies guessing, the main factor was that he knew that a large portion of his fans were gay men who thirsted over him. He had always had an issue with queers ever since he caught some nerds checking him out during gym class, so there was always a boiling rage he felt whenever he saw a man thirst-commenting on any of his photos or videos. The concept of some pathetic losers jerking off to his glorious body was utterly disgusting in Chad’s eyes, but the man was smart enough not to make those thoughts known so he wouldn’t be canceled. As such, he ultimately opted to forget about it as they were paying customers who helped fund his lavish lifestyle of expensive fitness gear and sports cars despite still opting to live in his trailer.

Given the constant influx of money he received every month from brand deals and OnlyFans, Chad spent most of his free time pursuing his other passion - rapping. Ever since he was a little boy, he had been drawn to the genre and found himself writing raps for fun whenever he was bored (which was pretty often). Now that he had no worries given his healthy income, the man finally decided to fully invest into his career as an aspiring rapper. Thinking back caused Chad to recall the release of his most recent EP, which had done moderate numbers given the size of his fanbase. 

Unfortunately, Chad’s cockiness made him unable to realize that he truly wasn’t the greatest rapper. Even when people commented under his posts to specifically pinpoint why he wasn’t good at the genre, he refused to believe such nonsense. Those losers were just jealous of his immense talent and trying anything they could to make him give up on his dreams!

As he continued to think about the intense criticism he got and considered making a diss track about those pathetic losers trying to hold him back, the changing of the text on the device’s screens caused him to forgo that thought and see what it said.

If you’d like to keep this life, please press in the knob to lock it in.  If not, you can press the button again tomorrow to try again. Thanks for using The Do-Over! 

Upon reading the text, Chad found himself struggling to comprehend everything that had just occurred to him. He knew deep down that he didn’t used to be like this, but the details were so vague and thinking about it too hard was just making his head hurt… and he hated that!

Luckily for him, a ding from his phone stole his attention and caused him to forget about the confusing transformation that had just befallen him. To his amusement, a text from Chad’s newest hookup had arrived. Although he had a feeling that he had never met the woman before, the memories that rushed into his mind upon thinking about her caused him to think otherwise. He could instantly recall countless nights of fucking where she eagerly worshipped his muscles and was utterly submissive as he fondled her perky breasts, teased her nipples, and slapped her soft peach-shaped ass. He was a total hunk, so it wasn’t a shock that girls like her would bow down to a total alpha!

Cockily smirking upon recalling just how great it was to fuck her, Chad took a moment to adjust the thick bulge that was straining against his underwear before unlocking his phone and entering the text messaging app. Upon doing so, his heart began to beat a little bit faster as he read the “omw” text and looked at the attached photo showcasing the raven-haired woman in her car.

Knowing that the woman only lived a few minutes away, Chad was quick to run around his trailer. Rather than cleaning up though, the man was simply moving items off of the couch and his bed to make sure they had no obstructions once they started messing around. Upon exiting his bedroom, the hunk took a detour into the bathroom where he quickly grabbed a box of condoms out of the medicine cabinet and returned to the kitchen.

After setting them on the counter next to the device that had transformed him, the sound of a knock on his door caused him to perk up and adopt his best machismo persona. With a swagger in his step, he strutted over to the door and pushed it open. As he flicked on the porch light and lifted his arms up to pose against the doorframe, he smirked as he saw Katie standing there dressed in a long trench coat.

“‘Sup babe?” He remarked, smirking as the woman looked up at him with “fuck me” eyes. To his surprise and pleasure though, Katie then suddenly moved towards him, but rather than stopping upon being face to face she just continued. Despite the man’s impressive physique, she was unfazed as she plowed right into his shoulder and caused him to move away and allow her entry. Such an action was an incredible turn on to Chad, as evident by the way he bit his lip and stifled a slight moan as he picked up on the scent of her flowery perfume. 

By the time he returned into the living room upon shutting the front door, the woman had already pulled off the trench coat and revealed an expensive-looking pair of white lace lingerie. So clearly turned on, the jock couldn’t resist reaching down and gripping onto his bulge as he savored the sight of the woman’s D cup breasts struggling to remain trapped within the garment. To make matters even worse, Katie then began to tease the man by attempting a slight striptease. 

“Oh, you want this don’t you?” she purred, guiding her fingers down to her panties which she began to slowly nudge down past the top of her curvy hips.

“Fuck yeah babe,” Chad exclaimed, making his way closer to her until their lips were mere centimeters away. Given the close proximity, the man was overcome by his lustful desires and leaned in to whisper that into her ear. “I wanna fuck that tight pussy of yours so bad…” As he pulled back away from Katie’s ear, the man noticed how the woman now had an equally cocky smirk on her face. 

Upon waiting a second,  she looked the man up and down and began to speak once more. “Then why are you still standing here doing nothing,” she matter of factly asked, which instantly sent Chad in a frenzy.

With incredible haste, the jock put his strength to use by wrapping his arms around Katie’s shoulders and the small of her back before lifting her up. Knowing exactly what to do, the girl pushed her feet off of the ground and used the momentum to wrap her legs around Chad’s waist. Now intimately intertwined, the duo pushed their heads forward and began to sloppily kiss each other. 

As their tongues began to their partner’s mouths, Chad continued walking until he was in the kitchen. Eager to get to the main event as if it was the first time he’d fucked in years (even though he knew he had literally just fucked another girl the night prior), the jock set the woman down on his kitchen countertop while pulling away to begin peppering kisses up and down her chest. 

In more attempts to display his alpha behavior, the man felt no remorse for gripping onto the front of Katie’s bra and ripping it off rather than just unfastening it. Based on the way the woman gasped and moaned as Chad pulled the material off and revealed her breasts, it was clear that she didn’t mind it either. 

With Chad basically nude already, all he had to do by the time he peeled off Katie’s panties was to drop his underwear and kick them to the side. Now staring at each other’s nude forms for a moment, both of them felt an undeniable attraction to each other that made a deep fiery lust emerge within them. As such, Chad looked towards the box of condoms on the counter and quickly grabbed onto them. Upon opening it and tearing one of the packaged condoms open with his teeth, Chad smirked as he rolled it down his irresistible eight inches of manhood.

Upon giving a knowing glance at each other, Chad wasted no time penetrating the woman’s pussy and beginning to fuck her with impressive stamina. As he continued to use his whole body with each thrust, the slapping of skin was also soundtracked by the high-pitched moans of Katie as Chad immediately began to pleasure her. Due to this, the woman found herself losing control of her body as it caused her to flail around.

So while their passionate lovemaking was occurring, neither of them picked up on the fact that one of Katie’s frantic hands had accidentally bumped into a large circular object that was on the counter. As a result, none of them could see how the device with the large red “DO-OVER” button landed onto the floor perfectly so that the extended knob was pressed in and locked into place. 

Given how preoccupied Chad would be for the rest of the night into the next morning, the jock would never discover the device again as the magic within would allow it to be transported back to the company’s headquarters so the next deserving candidate was given the chance for a do-over. As such, Chad would wake up the next morning and go about his daily routine with no memory of the life that he had accidentally given up. Although Arthur himself certainly wouldn’t be too pleased to discover that he had become an idiotic straight himbo, Chad loved that aspect of himself and thought that he was living the dream life!

Interested in reading more of my content? Head over to my Patreon to discover more than 140 hot transformation stories like this one! Additionally, I've also recently added a perk to the $15 tier where members can submit themselves to be the protagonist in future stories! If you'd love to be transformed by me, this is the only opportunity since I don't do commissions anymore.

[daisyvisions]

what do you think about theboyz leaving ist??

Honestly? GOOD FOR THEM! I was so happy when I heard the news and especially the fact that they are leaving AS A GROUP 😭 that just goes to show how close they actually are in and outside of work and how much they care about each other and the fans 🥺

when it comes to the trademark, I really hope IST just gives it to them there's really no point in keeping or at the very least just come to some sort of agreement that tbz can keep the trademarks and they just get some kind of percentage from sales of albums that were produced under them if that makes sense

I truly hope that the new agency they will go to will make them shine individually and as a group! It may sound like a dream right now but we should really pray that the next agency will be as good as it seems 💕

I hope once their contract ends they will get some rest (like a 2-3 month break), I cant wait for what the future has in store!

[heeluvv]

BIRTHDAY SEX.ᐟ

pairingᝰ.ᐟ idol! park jongseong x 8th member! reader

warningsᝰ.ᐟ food play, virgin! reader, fingering, oral (f), unprotected sex, age gap (4-year age gap), praising, reader calls jay oppa, etc. (wc 6.762k)

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ request, mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

the overwhelming warmth of love and appreciation from your fans had your heart swelling with joy. appearing on live to celebrate your birthday with them was something you always looked forward to—a moment of pure connection, an intimate exchange of gratitude between you and the people who had supported you through everything.

each of the boys had already given their gifts, some delivering heartfelt speeches about how much you had grown, yet promising to always treat you the same way they did when you first met—a mix of nostalgia and affection in their words. others had taken a more playful approach, teasing you relentlessly before giving in and admitting how proud they were of the person you had become.

you appreciated every single one of them, their gestures, their words, their presence. the warmth in your chest was undeniable. but despite the sea of gifts, the endless messages of love and gratitude, one thought refused to leave your mind—or rather, one person.

jay.

he hadn’t been around much today. and though you didn’t want to dwell on it, a small part of you had at least expected him to be by your side, like he always was. the two of you were practically inseparable, always drawn to each other without question. but today felt… different.

before you could think twice about it, you found yourself standing in front of his dorm room, hesitation creeping in as your fingers hovered over the door. you lifted your hand, delivering soft, hesitant knocks, your voice barely above a whisper as you called out—

"oppa… are you in here?"

for a moment, silence.

then—the soft rustling of movement from inside, the sound of rummaging, as if he had been caught off guard.

your brows furrowed slightly, your fingers still resting against the door as you strained your ears, trying to make out what was going on behind it.

"oppa…?"

you called again, this time softer, yet tinged with uncertainty, your heartbeat picking up ever so slightly as you waited for a response.

you didn’t have to wait long before the door creaked open, revealing jay standing there, his tall frame shadowed under the dim light of his dorm. his eyes flickered over you, dark and unreadable, though the way his lips tugged into a small smirk told you enough—he was expecting you. he didn’t say anything, simply nodding his head, silently telling you to come inside, and with a soft breath, you obeyed. stepping past him, the warmth of his room wrapped around you as you made your way toward his bed, perching yourself at the edge, hands delicately folding in your lap. there was something different in the air tonight, something thick, something you couldn’t quite name, but it made your stomach twist in ways unfamiliar to you.

"oppa, where were you?" your voice came out soft, filled with genuine curiosity, your head tilting slightly as you gazed up at him. your lips pressed together in a subtle pout, wide, innocent eyes searching his face for an answer. you didn’t want to seem demanding, but jay had been missing for most of the evening—on your birthday of all days—and though you wouldn’t ever admit it aloud, his absence had left a small, unspoken longing in your chest.

jay simply let out a small chuckle, his hands finding their way into his pockets as he turned away from you, heading toward his desk. "baby, i was getting your gift." his voice was smooth, calm, but there was something about it that made you shift slightly where you sat, fingers now nervously playing with the hem of your shirt.

you watched as he rummaged through one of his drawers before pulling out a small, velvety box, the deep color of it standing out against his pale fingers. your breath hitched slightly at the sight, heart fluttering in anticipation as he turned to face you, his expression unreadable. a soft smile played at his lips as he walked back over, closing the space between you two with slow, deliberate steps, his gaze never once leaving yours.

"look inside, baby."

your hands trembled slightly as he placed the box into your palms, his fingers brushing over yours in the process. his touch was warm, but there was a certain weight behind it, something that made your pulse stutter. hesitating for only a moment, you finally lifted the lid, eyes widening as the light caught the delicate diamond necklace nestled inside.

it was beautiful—breathtaking, even.

"oh my god, oppa... this is—" your voice faltered, unable to find the right words as you carefully lifted the piece of jewelry, the cool metal kissing your fingertips. the diamonds sparkled under the soft glow of his bedside lamp, but what truly caught your attention was the small, subtle engraving right beside the clasp.

a single letter.

"J."

your lips parted slightly in surprise, eyes flickering up to meet his, but the moment you locked gazes, your stomach twisted into something unfamiliar. jay wasn’t looking at the necklace—he was looking at you.

"look closer, baby," he murmured, his voice a low hum, almost teasing, almost as if he was waiting for something.

his fingers came up to brush along the pendant, trailing down until they barely ghosted over the skin of your collarbone, sending a quiet shiver through you. the necklace was subtle, its engraving hidden just enough to not raise questions, but to jay, it was a silent claim, an unspoken ownership that only you and he would know about.

"i love it, oppa," you whispered, voice barely above a breath as you turned your back toward him, exposing the nape of your neck as you held out the necklace. "put it on me?"

the bed dipped slightly as jay moved in closer, the warmth of his presence settling behind you, enveloping you. his hands reached forward, gathering your hair and sweeping it to one side, his fingers lingering a second too long against your skin. you felt the cold metal press against your neck as he clipped it into place, but before he pulled away, his touch didn’t leave.

his fingers stayed, tracing down the sensitive expanse of your skin, his touch featherlight yet burning, sending something foreign rippling through your stomach. you swallowed hard, lips parting slightly as your breath hitched, feeling his lips ghost just behind your ear.

"i have something else i want to do, princess," he murmured, his tone deeper, rougher, sending a small shudder down your spine.

his fingers trailed lower, dancing along the tops of your shoulders before slipping further, teasing over the delicate fabric of your blouse. the air around you shifted, something thick, something unspoken settling between you two.

"will you let me, baby?"

his words were soft, yet they felt dangerous, like honey laced with something sinful, something that made your heart pound against your ribs. you felt small under his touch, under the intensity of his gaze, but most of all, you felt claimed.

you turned your body slightly, facing him fully, your eyes searching his for an answer, though all he did was let his hands trail lower, the warmth of his fingertips ghosting over your collarbone. his touch was deliberate, slow—almost as if he were savoring every moment, memorizing the way your body reacted to him. one hand came up, fingers brushing softly against your cheek, his thumb stroking the delicate skin beneath your eye.

"i want to make up for what i did, baby," he murmured, his voice low, laced with something deeper, something that sent shivers down your spine. his eyes drank in your expression, dark and unwavering as they scanned over your face, taking in every twitch, every hesitant flicker of innocence that lingered in your gaze. "i wanna make my princess feel good after leaving her on her birthday."

his words wrapped around you, a soft heat blooming in your stomach, unfamiliar yet thrilling. he inched closer, closing the space between your bodies until you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, his presence so intoxicating that it left your breath catching in your throat. your lips parted slightly, the tip of your tongue darting out to wet them—a subconscious habit, yet one that didn’t go unnoticed.

jay’s gaze flickered downward, his eyes trained on the motion, the corner of his lips twitching up slightly in amusement.

"doing what, oppa?" your voice came out barely above a whisper, tinged with curiosity, though your body remained frozen beneath his touch.

his smirk widened at your question, his thumb tracing down the slope of your jaw before hooking beneath your chin, tilting your face up to meet his darkened stare. "don’t worry too much about how, baby… just tell me." his voice was smooth, like silk soaked in sin, each word dripping into your ears like warm honey.

his breath fanned over your face, and you swore the air around you had grown thicker, the space between you two electrified with something unspoken.

"you trust me, right, princess?"

your head nodded before you even processed the words, your body responding before your mind could catch up, completely entranced by the intensity of his gaze.

"then let oppa take care of you, hm?" he coaxed, his lips brushing so close to yours that you could almost taste him. "let me make this the best birthday you’ll ever have…"

before you could even form a response, his fingers curled under your jaw, guiding you closer, and then—his lips met yours.

the kiss was soft at first, hesitant, almost as if he were giving you the chance to pull away, to stop him before it could go further. but when you didn’t—when you sat there, completely still, completely entranced by the way his mouth moved against yours—he deepened it.

"just follow my lead, baby…" his words were whispered against your lips, breathy and warm before he captured your mouth once more.

his lips moved slowly, languidly, as if tasting you, savoring you, and though you had never done this before, never experienced anything like this, your body instinctively leaned into him, your fingers curling tightly into the fabric of his shirt.

he tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss as his tongue flicked over your bottom lip, coaxing you to part for him.

"open for me, baby…"

his voice was low, commanding, yet so soft that it made your stomach twist. obediently, you parted your lips, allowing him to slip his tongue inside, the sensation so foreign, so overwhelming that a small whimper ignited from your throat.

jay groaned at the sound, the vibration of it sending a wave of heat through his body, his free hand trailing down the curve of your waist before tugging at the hem of your shirt.

his lips left yours for a brief moment, a thin string of saliva connecting the two of you, the air between you now thick with something heavy, something dangerously intoxicating.

his chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, lips red and swollen from kissing you with such intensity, his eyes clouded with pure desire as he scanned your flushed face.

"are you going to let me, baby?"

his voice was softer now, coaxing, almost hypnotic, as he leaned in once more, lips pressing the faintest of kisses against your cheek. his mouth trailed lower, leaving a path of warmth down to your jaw, before moving further—down to the delicate skin of your neck, where he lingered, pressing an open-mouthed kiss before sucking softly, his tongue teasing over the sensitive skin.

you sucked in a breath, your heart hammering wildly in your chest as his hands explored further, his lips leaving burning kisses along your throat, each one lingering longer than the last.

"let me make you feel good, princess…" he whispered against your skin, his hands now firmly gripping your waist, holding you in place as if you were something fragile—something precious.

his fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, dragging it slowly up your torso, the fabric grazing your skin in a way that sent goosebumps trailing down your arms. his touch was deliberate, slow—as if savoring every moment, every inch of you that was being revealed to him. once your top was discarded onto the floor, his gaze fell on your chest, half-covered by the thin fabric of your bra. his eyes darkened, pupils blown wide as he drank in the sight of you, completely mesmerized.

"so beautiful, baby..." he murmured, his voice low and dripping with adoration. his hands moved with ease, fingers sliding under the straps of your bra, trailing them down your arms before unclasping it expertly. the moment the lace fell away, exposing your bare skin to him, a soft breath hitched in his throat, his hands immediately coming up to cup your breasts, palms warm and firm against your soft skin.

his thumbs brushed over your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, the sensation sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your core. your back arched instinctively, a soft moan spilling from your lips as he kneaded them gently, alternating between soft squeezes and slow, deliberate rubs.

"oppa..." your voice was breathy, laced with something you had never quite felt before—a sensation so foreign yet so addicting. your hands gripped onto the sheets beneath you as you tried to ground yourself, the overwhelming warmth pooling in your stomach leaving you dizzy.

he smirked at your reaction, clearly enjoying the way you responded so easily to his touch. "feels good, baby?" he murmured, his dark eyes flickering up to meet yours, the way his hands continued their ministrations making you feel lightheaded with pleasure.

"yes, oppa..." your voice was barely above a whisper, your body fully surrendering to him, to his touch, to the way he knew exactly what to do to make you feel good.

"i have something even better..." he teased, his hands finally releasing your breasts, leaving your skin tingling from the absence of his touch. confusion flickered across your features as he suddenly shifted, gently scooting you further up the bed until your head lay against his pillow. he didn’t join you just yet—instead, he got up, stepping away for a brief moment, disappearing from your line of sight.

you blinked, confusion settling in as you pushed yourself up on your elbows slightly. "oppa?" you called out softly, only for him to return a moment later, his lips curled into a smirk as he held a bottle of whipped cream in his hand.

your brows furrowed in curiosity, your innocent gaze flickering between the bottle and his face, trying to make sense of what he was planning. "what is that for, oppa?" you asked, your voice soft, eyes wide with curiosity.

he simply chuckled, crawling back onto the bed, hovering over you once more, the warmth of his body enveloping you completely. his eyes trailed down, fixating on your bare chest as he brought the bottle closer, shaking it slightly.

"i’ll show you rather than tell you, baby..." his voice was low, sultry, dripping with mischief.

before you could process his words, the sound of the whipped cream canister filled the air, a soft hiss as the cool, airy cream drizzled onto your bare skin. you gasped, your body flinching slightly at the cold sensation, the contrast between the cool cream and the warmth of your skin sending shivers down your spine.

your gasp quickly turned into a breathy moan as his lips latched onto your breast, his tongue darting out to swirl over your nipple, collecting the sweet cream as he sucked gently.

"oppa—!" your breath hitched, your fingers instinctively tangling into his hair as your thighs squeezed together, the sensation so new, so intense, you barely knew how to handle it.

jay hummed against your skin, the vibrations of his moan sending waves of pleasure through your body. he took his time, alternating between slow, deliberate licks and soft, teasing sucks, his tongue swirling over your sensitive bud, lapping up every last trace of sweetness before he moved to your other breast."fuck, baby..." he groaned against your skin, his breath hot as he placed small, kitten licks over the sensitive area, ensuring no lingering whipped cream remained.

his hands roamed lower, trailing down your waist, gripping your hips firmly as his lips continued to worship you, leaving behind a trail of open-mouthed kisses, each one igniting tiny sparks across your skin.

"so sweet," he murmured, his tongue flicking over your skin one last time, his darkened gaze locking onto yours.

his hands traced down your sides, fingers grazing over the hem of your pants with deliberate slowness, as if savoring every moment before finally tugging them down your thighs. the cool air kissed your exposed skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth pooling in your core, making you shudder slightly. his gaze darkened as he took in the sight of your damp panties, the fabric sticking to your folds, a clear testament to how much his mere touch had affected you.

"so wet already, baby?" he husked, his deep voice sending a wave of heat straight through your body. his fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties, peeling them away with a slow, torturous pace, as if committing the sight to memory. once they were discarded, he parted your thighs, spreading you open completely for his view. you instinctively tried to snap them shut, embarrassment coursing through your veins, but his broad shoulders wedged between them, rendering you completely vulnerable beneath him.

"stay still, baby... you look perfect, princess," he murmured, his tone laced with something dark, something possessive, as his eyes devoured the sight before him. his praise alone had a whimper escaping your lips, your stomach twisting into knots at how intensely he was looking at you.

then, his breath—hot, teasing—ghosted over your bare, aching core. a soft gasp left your lips, your fingers tightening into the sheets beneath you as you squirmed, the anticipation almost too much to bear. he hadn’t even touched you yet, and you were already trembling.

"w-wait, oppa—" your voice was barely above a whisper, hesitation laced in your words, nerves dancing along your spine. "i haven't done this before..." your admission was soft, laced with innocence, your gaze flickering down to meet his.

he only chuckled lowly, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable as he tilted his head slightly, lips curling into a knowing smirk. "i know, princess..." he murmured, his tone gentle yet firm. "just relax... let oppa take care of you."

before you could protest, his fingers dragged through your slick folds, spreading your arousal around with slow, deliberate strokes. the sensation had you gasping sharply, your hips jerking slightly from the unfamiliar yet intoxicating feeling.

"so sensitive, baby..." he cooed, watching intently as you writhed beneath his touch. his thumb found your clit, flicking over it with the lightest pressure, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure up your spine.

"oppa—!" you whimpered, your thighs trembling as you tried to process the overwhelming sensations.

he hummed in satisfaction, leaning in closer, his lips just inches away from where you needed him most. his warm breath fanned over your core, teasing, tormenting, making you ache for more.

"trust me, princess," he whispered, his voice nothing but velvet and sin. "i'm going to make you feel so, so good."

he leaned in slowly, his breath warm against your soaked core, teasing you with the anticipation before his tongue finally darted out, flicking against your sensitive clit with an agonizingly slow precision. the first contact had you gasping sharply, your body instinctively jolting at the foreign but electrifying sensation. his groan vibrated through you as he dragged his tongue lower, parting your wet folds, tasting you with deep, deliberate strokes.

"mmh… taste so fucking good, baby..." his voice was low, raspy, dripping with lust as he spoke between long, languid licks. his tongue moved expertly, alternating between sucking gently on your clit and giving those occasional flicks that sent sharp jolts of pleasure coursing through you. your body trembled beneath him, thighs quivering on either side of his head, the overwhelming sensations making your grip on his bedsheets tighten desperately.

"o-oppa―!" you moaned, your voice breathy, laced with pure bliss as you felt his hands pressing down on your waist, holding you in place. he was completely devouring you, his mouth working like he was savoring every drop of you, his tongue greedy and relentless.

as if the stimulation from his tongue wasn’t already too much, you suddenly felt his fingers glide down to your entrance, teasingly circling the tight hole before pressing against it. the pressure made you jolt, your walls fluttering instinctively in response.

"just relax, baby..." he whispered, his voice soft yet commanding as he finally pushed a finger inside. a sharp gasp tore from your lips, your back arching slightly at the unfamiliar stretch. it burned—just a little—but the feeling was drowned out by the overwhelming fullness as he pushed in deeper, curling his finger slightly before pulling it back and easing in again.

"so fucking tight, baby," he groaned, his voice strained as if he was barely holding himself together. his head lifted slightly, watching with hooded eyes as your walls squeezed around his single digit, sucking him in greedily.

he set a slow, sensual pace, his finger pumping in and out, dragging slick sounds from your soaked core as he worked you open. your soft whimpers only encouraged him, his free hand rubbing soothing circles on your thigh. then, without warning, he pushed in a second finger, stretching you further.

"oppa... s'good... f―feels s'good..." you whimpered, your legs twitching at the new sensation. he curled his fingers slightly, angling them just right.

"there it is…" he murmured, a cocky smirk on his face as he pressed directly against that spot deep inside you. the moment he did, your body jerked violently, a loud moan ripping from your throat as waves of pleasure crashed over you like nothing you’d ever felt before.

he didn’t stop. he focused on that spot mercilessly, his fingers rubbing against it, pressing into it over and over again, drawing out the most obscene sounds from your lips.

"think you can take another one, doll?" he asked, though he didn’t wait for an answer.

before you could even process his words, a third finger slid inside, the stretch making you gasp sharply as your thighs threatened to clamp shut around his head. he groaned against your clit, the vibrations sending you spiraling as his fingers worked deeper, faster, driving you closer and closer to a high that felt almost too intense to bear.

he gripped the whipped cream bottle in his hand, a dark smirk tugging at his lips as he tilted it over your trembling body, the cool sweetness cascading onto your already soaked pussy, the contrast of temperature making you jolt. the moment the last of it dripped down onto your swollen clit, he tossed the bottle aside carelessly, his hunger evident in the way he immediately latched onto you with no hesitation, his mouth working greedily, sloppily, as if he was starving.

his tongue flicked and sucked with newfound intensity, his movements harsher, more desperate than before. his fingers—already buried deep inside you—picked up pace, pumping into you at a dizzying speed, the wet, obscene sound of your slick coating his digits echoing through the dimly lit room.

"oh my–oppa!" you cried out, your legs beginning to tremble violently, the overstimulation making it nearly impossible to think. but he didn’t stop. if anything, he doubled his efforts, tongue circling your clit with relentless precision, fingers curling just right, slamming into your sweet spot with every stroke.

you squirmed, body thrashing beneath his grip as the pleasure became all-consuming, your mind clouded, your senses overwhelmed. you felt something tightening deep inside you, coiling so intensely it almost felt foreign.

"f-feel weird oppa… feels weird!" you gasped out between moans, your voice trembling as your hands gripped desperately at the sheets. it was too much—too much but not enough at the same time.

his chuckle vibrated against your core, the sensation making you shudder as he dragged his tongue in a slow, deliberate stroke up your folds before whispering, "you're gonna cum, baby. come on, do it for me, princess…"

his fingers slammed into you mercilessly, pressing against that one spot over and over, making your back arch impossibly high off the bed. your breathing was erratic, chest heaving as the coil inside you wound impossibly tight, threatening to snap at any moment.

he leaned in, his face hovering over yours, his breath warm against your lips. his free hand came up, gripping your chin firmly as he tilted your face toward him. his dark, intense gaze locked onto yours, watching every expression, every twitch, every moan that spilled from your parted lips.

he didn’t kiss you. he simply stared, mesmerized by the way your innocent features twisted with unfiltered pleasure—the way your brows furrowed, your eyes glazed over with pure lust, completely lost in the feeling he was giving you.

"cum for me, baby," he murmured, his voice like silk yet dripping with authority. "wet my fingers like the good girl you are."

his words sent you spiraling. your body tensed, then snapped as a wave of pure ecstasy crashed over you, shaking you to your core. your moans turned into high-pitched cries, your legs spasming, back arching, eyes rolling as the overwhelming release took control of you.

jay groaned at the sight, his fingers still pumping inside you, prolonging your orgasm, watching in awe as your juices gushed around his hand. his lips curled into a smirk as he finally leaned down, whispering against your lips, "that’s my good girl."

he withdrew his fingers from your trembling, oversensitive core, coated with the evidence of your pleasure. without hesitation, he brought them to your lips, his gaze dark and expectant as he uttered a single command, "suck."

your lips parted instinctively, allowing him to slide his soaked fingers into your warm mouth. your tongue swirled around them, savoring your own taste, moaning softly as you cleaned them off like the obedient girl he wanted you to be. his hooded eyes stayed locked on yours, unwavering and intense, his free hand trailing down to his waistband.

he slowly pulled his fingers from your mouth, the wet pop making something deep within his chest tighten. using both hands, he pushed his pants down, the fabric sliding off effortlessly, revealing the glorious sight beneath.

he was breathtaking.

your gaze flickered down, your breath hitching as your eyes traveled the expanse of his toned body, tracing over the dips and ridges of his defined muscles, the sharp cut of his v-line leading straight down to where his cock stood thick, long, and painfully hard. the sheer size of him had you swallowing hard, a deep hesitation settling in the pit of your stomach.

he noticed immediately.

he leaned down, hovering over you, his strong arms caging you in, his presence intoxicating. with gentle fingers, he tucked your hair behind your ear, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your lips—soothing, reassuring, yet still holding the burning passion from moments before.

"so pretty for me, baby…" he murmured between slow, deep kisses, his lips barely leaving yours before reconnecting, making you feel dizzy, making you forget everything except him.

his hand moved down to grip the base of his cock, his thick tip dragging torturously slow against your slick folds, smearing the remnants of your arousal mixed with the last traces of whipped cream.

"don’t worry, baby…" his voice was soft yet firm, the deep timbre making your body shiver beneath him. "just focus on me, okay?"

his eyes bore into yours, reading every flicker of uncertainty, every trace of apprehension, but also the undeniable heat that still swirled within them. he wanted to consume you, ruin you, but most importantly—he wanted you to trust him completely.

his voice was gentle, almost soothing as he whispered against your skin, "are you ready, baby?" the warmth of his breath sent shivers down your spine, his lips trailing soft, feather-like kisses along the curve of your neck. his touch was light, teasing, as if he was trying to ease the tension thrumming through your body.

you nodded, barely able to form words, your fingers tightening around the bedsheets, bracing yourself for what was to come. his hands traced down your sides before settling firmly on your hips, his grip reassuring, grounding you.

slowly, he pushed the thick head of his cock past your entrance, the stretch unlike anything you had ever felt before. it was so much more than his fingers, the burn making you whimper, your body tensing instinctively at the intrusion.

"oppa…" your voice trembled as you gasped, your breath coming out in uneven, harsh huffs.

"shh, baby…" his tone was low, coaxing, as his hands came up to soothe you, one gripping your shoulder while the other tangled in your hair, his lips never leaving your skin. "relax for me, it'll go away soon, I promise."

inch by inch, he pushed deeper, taking his time, his patience a stark contrast to the sheer hunger burning in his darkened gaze. his arms slid beneath yours, pulling you closer as his chest pressed against yours, the heat of his body surrounding you completely.

to distract you from the overwhelming stretch, he captured your lips in a slow, intoxicating kiss, his tongue moving languidly against yours, coaxing soft whimpers from your throat. his kisses were deep, all-consuming, making you forget the discomfort, replacing it with a different kind of heat—a pleasure that had your body arching into him despite yourself.

his hips stilled, allowing you to adjust, his lips never leaving yours, whispering sweet reassurances between each kiss. and though the sting still lingered, the way he held you, the way he worshiped your body, made it impossible to feel anything but him.

your voice came out in a breathy plea, your body finally adjusting to the overwhelming stretch as the pain slowly melted away, replaced by something far more pleasurable. "move, oppa…" the words were barely above a whisper, but he heard them loud and clear.

jay exhaled a shaky breath, his self-control hanging by a thread as he obeyed, his hips rolling forward in a slow, deliberate motion. his cock dragged against your slick walls, the stretch still prominent, but now laced with pleasure that had your breath hitching.

"fuck, princess…" he groaned, his voice thick with restraint as he fought against his own hunger, focusing solely on you. "you're gripping me so fucking tight—" his head tilted back slightly, jaw clenching as he forced himself to keep the steady rhythm, each thrust measured, deep, ensuring you felt every inch of him.

your moans grew softer at first, small whimpers escaping as the pleasure built inside you, growing more intense with every slow stroke. the way he moved, the way he filled you so perfectly, the deep, languid thrusts pressing against your sensitive spots without even trying— it had your thighs trembling beneath him, your body reacting instinctively to the delicious friction.

"oppa…" his name left your lips in a desperate moan, your body writhing beneath him, wanting more, needing more. the slow pace wasn’t enough—not when you could feel the coil in your stomach tightening, begging for release so quickly.

"faster, oppa—please," you whined, your walls clenching around him in a way that had his entire body tensing, his grip on your waist tightening.

a low, guttural groan tore through him, his fingers digging into your skin as his control snapped, his thrusts suddenly picking up speed. the slow, sensual movements were gone, replaced with something raw, primal— his hips slamming into yours with purpose, his cock now pistoning in and out of you, each deep thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"fucking hell, baby…" he moaned, his dark eyes never leaving your face, watching every little reaction as he took you harder, faster. "feel so fucking good wrapped around me like this—"

his hands gripped your waist tighter, holding you still as he drove into you with increasing intensity, each stroke dragging against your sensitive walls in a way that had your toes curling. the heat between you both was unbearable, suffocating, your body burning with pleasure as he fucked you into the mattress, completely lost in you.

your moans filled the room, a melody of pleasure that only spurred him on, his pace never faltering. "oppa—oh my—!" your voice broke as your back arched off the mattress, the force of his thrusts sending waves of pleasure crashing over you, each deep stroke making your body tremble beneath him.

jay was completely lost in you, his lips parted as he bit down hard on his bottom lip, a poor attempt to muffle the groans threatening to spill from his throat. but it was useless. the way your walls clenched around him so perfectly, the heat of your slick wrapping around his cock like a vice— it had him letting out low, breathy moans, his restraint slipping with every thrust.

"fuck, baby—" his voice was hoarse, his forehead pressing against yours as he stared down at you, eyes blown with lust, completely drunk off the way you felt around him. the way your body moved, the way you moaned his name so sweetly, so desperately— it only made his hips snap forward harder, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the room, mixing with the filthy wet sounds of him gliding in and out of you.

the coil in his stomach was tightening, his cock twitching violently inside you, warning him that he was teetering dangerously close to the edge. "cum with me, baby," he moaned, his voice laced with pure desperation as his thrusts turned erratic, deeper, harder, completely losing himself in the overwhelming pleasure.

your body responded immediately, your walls squeezing him so tightly that he choked on a moan, his grip on your waist bruising as he pounded into you mercilessly. you were right there—your breath coming in ragged pants, your fingers clutching onto his toned arms for stability, your head tilting back as pleasure consumed you.

"o-oppa! i—!" your voice cracked as the orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body trembling beneath him, your pussy pulsing around his cock as you came hard.

jay groaned loudly at the feeling, his hips slamming into you one final time before he buried himself as deep as possible, his body shuddering violently as he came undone. his hot release filled you, his moans turning into breathless gasps as he rode out his high, his hands gripping onto you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

he collapsed against you, his damp skin pressed against yours as he tried to catch his breath, his lips finding your neck to leave lazy, open-mouthed kisses. "fuck, baby…" he panted, his fingers tracing soothing circles against your thigh as he stayed inside you, unwilling to let go just yet. "so perfect for me… my beautiful princess."

with a swift motion, jay flipped you over, his strength effortless as he maneuvered your trembling body on top of him. your hands instinctively splayed against his toned chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breaths beneath your fingertips. his cock remained buried deep inside you, stretching you so perfectly, filling you in a way that had your thighs quivering around his waist.

before you could even adjust to the new position, he wasted no time—his hips snapping upwards in powerful, relentless thrusts, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. your mouth fell open in a silent moan, the force of his movements making your body jolt with each deep stroke.

"fuck, baby—" he groaned, his grip on your waist tightening, fingers digging into your flesh as he took full control. "can't get enough of this pussy, you're so fucking tight—" his voice was raw, filled with pure hunger as he lifted you effortlessly, dragging your dripping heat along his length before slamming you back down onto his cock, meeting your body with the force of his thrusts.

your hands scrambled for purchase, nails digging into his skin as your body bounced helplessly in his grasp. his pace was merciless, each upward snap of his hips sending you deeper into a euphoric haze, your moans mixing with the obscene sounds of your bodies colliding.

"o-oppa—!" you cried out, your head tilting back as overwhelming pleasure coursed through you, each powerful thrust hitting that sweet spot buried deep inside you with perfect precision.

jay's dark eyes were locked onto you, watching the way your breasts bounced with each harsh movement, the way your face contorted in pleasure, completely lost in the way he fucked you. his breath was ragged, his jaw clenched as he felt your walls tighten around him.

"yeah, baby… take it. take it just like that," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. his hands left your waist momentarily, coming up to cup your breasts, rolling your hardened nipples between his fingers before trailing lower, fingers pressing onto your sensitive clit.

your entire body jerked at the sudden stimulation, a loud whimper spilling from your lips as you clenched down on him, the sensation sending him spiraling closer to his own release.

"fuck, princess—"* he groaned, his hips slamming up into you with desperate intensity, his pace growing more erratic, more uncontrollable. he was chasing his high now, completely drunk off the way your tight walls milked him so perfectly.

"gonna make you cum again, baby," he murmured, his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit, his cock stretching you so deliciously with every deep thrust. "wanna feel you cum all over my dick again—fuck, you’re so perfect for me."

your nails dug deep into his skin, leaving crescent-shaped imprints along his toned arms as he continued to thrust into you with relentless force. each movement sent you rocking against him, the bed creaking beneath the two of you in a rhythmic harmony, the sound mixing with your desperate moans and the obscene wet slaps of your bodies meeting over and over again.

"o-oppa—I'm close! oh my god—" your voice was high-pitched, broken with pleasure as your body shuddered violently above him, every muscle tightening as the overwhelming sensation built inside you, threatening to consume you whole.

"fuck, baby—cum for me," he groaned, his own voice strained, thick with need, his breath coming out in ragged pants as he felt you clench down on him like a vice. his hips snapped up into you even harder, more erratic now, his grip on your waist tightening, thumbs pressing bruises into your soft skin.

"wet my dick—shit, just like that—fuck—!" his moans turned into desperate cries as his head tilted back against the pillows, his jaw slack as his body tensed beneath you. a low, guttural groan ripped from his chest as he twitched violently inside you, thick ropes of his hot release filling you up, coating your walls as he came undone beneath you.

the feeling of him pulsing inside you, his warmth spreading deep within, sent you spiraling over the edge, your body convulsing uncontrollably as your orgasm hit with full force. your vision blurred, white-hot pleasure surging through every nerve as your climax ripped through you, leaving you gasping loudly, your thighs trembling as you fell forward onto his chest, completely spent.

both of you lay there, bodies entangled, chests rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. the room was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the heat between your bodies lingering as the aftershocks of pleasure continued to roll through you.

his hands slowly came up to trace soft patterns along your waist, his touch gentle now, a stark contrast to the roughness from just moments ago. his lips pressed tender kisses onto your bare shoulder, his breath warm against your damp skin as he murmured against you, voice laced with exhaustion and adoration.

"so pretty, my baby…" he whispered, his fingers lightly grazing over your back, grounding you in the warmth of his embrace. he pressed one last lingering kiss to the side of your neck before resting his forehead against your temple, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

"happy birthday, princess," he murmured softly, his arms tightening around you, holding you close as if he never wanted to let you go.

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ i hoped you liked it !!

[rafesbabygirlx]

A Lot of Time has Passed |Part 1

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary: Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. JJs sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

A/N: Writing this with inspiration from season 4 part 1. Rewriting plot lines. No mention of Y/N but is written in her perspective. Was inspired of Rafe’s new character arc which I love but thought I’d make it a bit more interesting and messy.

Also- you have to imagine that Maybank reader is intertwined in the previous seasons. And was involved with Rafe. She understands him more than Sofia. She is JJs half sister, takes after her mom, brunette brown eyes tanned skin.

Not really proofread

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: smut (fingering) tough discussions, loss of life (Ward, Big John) Rafe can get a little mean, sorry Sofia lovers.

It’s been 18 months since you returned to the island. While you’ve stayed in touch with your half-brother JJ and the rest of the Pogues, you only saw them once in a while since you had made them travel to the mainland. You relished the escape from the chaos of the Outer Banks. Although you maintained a connection with your mother, it wasn’t until you decided to move in with her that you saw her again. You never imagined you’d come back, but hearing about the Pogues’ long-overdue success and newfound wealth drew you back to celebrate.

Once you arrived, you made an effort to keep a low profile. You headed straight to the old house you and JJ used to share. You couldn’t help but feel annoyed at how much he paid for it, but the joy of being back with your little brother overshadowed that irritation. Everything felt just as it had in the past, and you slipped seamlessly into your role as their ‘older sister.’

You found yourself speaking with Sarah down by the docks, where she asked how you were doing and how things were going—just the usual small talk. Then came the question you dreaded: “Have you seen him?” You stared out at the water, trying to push thoughts of him aside while enjoying your time with the Pogues. Subconsciously, you gripped your gold necklace by its 2 charms, one a ‘V’ initial and the other a baby rattle as you replied, “No, I haven’t, and I’m hoping to keep it that way.”

You hadn’t planned to stay long, just a week or two at most, with hopes of hanging out in the Cut, grabbing some groceries, and indulging in shopping at boutiques you never go to do before. You wanted to avoid anything that might draw attention to you. Living with your mom—who was now clean and remarried—had been a breath of fresh air. She shielded you from worry, allowing you to focus on taking care of what you needed to and building a decent savings while working a stable job, free from the burdens your father had imposed.

After chatting a bit more, you hugged Sarah and rejoined the group. They were deep in conversation about a bike race happening the next day. Glancing at JJ's bike in the yard, you felt a mix of confusion and admiration for his confidence. Although you hadn’t planned to join them for obvious reasons, he managed to convince you to come along. With such a big crowd, you thought you could easily blend in and suppress the anxious flutter in your chest at the thought of running into Rafe. Confident, yet now he’s all you can think about.

————————————

The last time you saw him was when you returned home from South America. While you were glad to see him, you dreaded the conversation about his father. After leaving the group at the airport, you headed to Tannyhill. As you entered, he greeted you with a warm hug, lifting you off your feet and showering you with kisses. He set you down, his face bright with a smile, contrasting sharply with the sadness that clouded your own.

Before you set out for South America to help John B with his dad, Rafe had stopped you just before boarding the plane. He promised he’d be a better person for you and wanted you to return from the trip to him. With that, he slipped one of his silver rings onto your finger and kissed you, giving a nod that it was okay to go.

There was always a powerful connection between you two, despite the class divide and his intense disdain for Pogues. You were the exception. Everyone adored you—both Pogues and Kooks alike—especially when you worked as the favorite bartender at the Country Club. You and Rafe bonded over the absence of your mothers and the shortcomings of your fathers. It was a match made in an unlikely paradise.

Though you were never officially together, largely due to his ego, you often went out publicly. Despite JJ and the group’s disdain, you convinced them—and yourself—that it meant nothing, even though deep down, you knew it did. The same could be said for Rafe with Topper and Kelce. No matter what happened, you both struggled to fully pull away from each other. Until that night.

You led Rate to the living room of Tannyhill and gently broke the news of his father's death. The color drained from his face, and his breathing grew rapid and heavy. In an attempt to console him, you placed your hand, adorned with his ring, on his arm, but he abruptly yanked it away and stood up, clearly overwhelmed. Before you could fully explain the circumstances surrounding the tragedy, Rafe erupted in anger. "This is what happens when people get close to someone like John B! Pogues are nothing but worthless pieces of shit, I trusted you all with him!" He lashed out, placing the blame on them as if Ward's insatiable greed hadn't played a role in his decisions. It was bewildering that he believed any of us wanted his father there in the first place. This wasn't any of ours fault.

"Rafe..." you pleaded, desperation lacing your voice. "I don't want to hear it! I can't even look at you right now. All those things I said to you, and you let this happen?! You got my father killed?!" His voice thundered with rage, his eyes dark and wild, veins bulging in his neck.

"You really think we wanted this? John B lost his dad too, you know that?! This was NEVER supposed to happen. I'm so sorry." But Rafe didn't want to hear your apology. "Get away from me! Don't come back! I never want to see you again," he shouted, the finality of his words slicing through you. You felt the tears streaming down your face, sorrow intertwined with disbelief. How could he say this after all the loving promises he had made before leaving? You sat in stunned silence for a moment, then carefully slid the ring off your finger and placed it on the coffee table. With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out of Tannyhill. Rafe didn't even glance back; he couldn't. Deep down, he knew he didn't mean any of it, but his anger always got the best of him.

————————————

As you emerged from your thoughts, everyone decided to head inside for the night, giving JJ some much-needed rest before the race the next day. You settled into your old bed, replacing the dust-covered sheets, and despite the whirlwind of emotions flooding your mind about being back, sleep quickly overtook you. Before long, JJ was shaking you awake, urging you to hurry and get ready.

When you arrived at the racecourse, you kept your distance from the group, sticking close to Cleo to avoid any potential confrontations.

JJ understood what was going on without needing to ask, and he respected your space; having you there, after all this time, was what mattered most to him. It was a relief, allowing you to watch from afar as Rafe interacted with Topper, their tension palpable from a distance.

As the race began, excitement surged through you. Ju took the lead, but then Rafe unexpectedly tapped him, sending both of them flipping over their bikes, igniting a chorus of cheers from the crowd.

Once the race concluded, you made your way towards the group. Topper walked by, not being able to help gloat saying something to Sarah. He then caught your eye, a smug smile on his face, but he chose not to say anything, merely walking away while shaking his head. You refused to let it bother you; Topper's opinions meant nothing, yet you knew that this would undoubtedly reach Rafe, and you hoped to slip away before that happened-at least, that was what you hoped.

As the crowd began to thin out, you felt exposed among the remaining Pogues and Kooks. Seeking a bit of refuge, you decided to head towards the shack that stored drinks and equipment for the track, needing a breather from the charged atmosphere. Just as you turned to leave, your eyes locked with Rafe's.

Your heart raced as a heavy silence enveloped you, and for a moment, neither of you could look away. In that instant, you noticed Sofia slip her arm through his and plant a kiss on his cheek. Another dark haired, brown eyes Pogue you knew from the cut and worked with the country club. He clearly had a type. She playfully pulled his attention back to her. Seizing the chance, you quickly resumed your path to the shack, desperate to put distance between yourself and the turmoil of emotions that Rafe always seemed to ignite within you.

You stepped into the shack, the sunlight streaming through the windows casting long shadows across the floor. Your heart raced with nervousness, and you weren't sure if you wanted to stay or leave. With your back to the door, you pressed one hand to your chest and the other to your forehead, trying to steady your breathing, when a low voice broke the silence.

"Hi."

You spun around to find Rafe's imposing silhouette framed in the doorway, his tall figure looming over you. "Rafe, please, just go. I don't need this. I'm here for my brother," you insisted, your voice unsteady. He chuckled, stepping further into the room, the warmth of his presence engulfing you.

"I've missed you, Maybank."

"Don't say that to me," you retorted, backing away as he moved closer. Soon, you found yourself pinned between him and the table, his blue eyes piercing through the dim light, sparkling with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. He studied you with an expression that was both longing and mischief, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before gently cupping your face.

It left you bewildered, and you instinctively tried to push him away. "A year and a half ago, you couldn't stand me, and now you're all over me. You can never make up your mind."

A smile crept across Rafe's face. "I could never hate you. I never hated you. I was angry, sure, but I took it out on you-and you never gave me a chance to apologize. You vanished, changed your number, and everyone who knew where you were would never tell me."

"Rafe, please just go," you pleaded, feeling trapped. But before you could protest further, he lifted you effortlessly and set you down on the table.

"I can't stay away from you. Please, let us have this moment," he murmured, his voice low and earnest. He leaned in, inhaling your familiar scent-the coconut and mango shampoo mixed with a hint of jasmine perfume. Then, without warning, he pressed soft kisses against your cheek. You let out a slight moan, unable to suppress the spark of electricity that coursed through you at his touch.

He smiled against your skin, his face inching closer to yours. Then, before you could register the moment, he pulled back slightly to gaze into your eyes once more before crashing his lips against yours. The shock of the kiss momentarily stunned you, but as the reality of what was happening sank in, you found yourself responding, moving your lips against his as if you had been waiting for this moment all along.

His hands began to explore your soft skin, gliding down your arms to intertwine his fingers with yours. You felt the familiar weight of the ring that once adorned your finger. He released your hand, gripping the nape of your neck and pulling you closer as his right hand traced down your torso. You wore a thin, cropped strapless top and a mini skirt. His fingertips teased the upper hem, grazing the tops of your breasts while he moved lower, grasping your waist as if afraid to let you go.

Both of you fought for breath, pulling away to look at each other, laughter escaping your lips. “I’ve been waiting to do this again for so long,” he admitted.

“Do you think your girlfriend would appreciate you saying that to me, Rafe?”

“What?”

“Sofia, the girl outside who kissed you on the cheek?” You sarcastically remind him. “Do you think she’d appreciate this? I may be many things, but I won’t be an accomplice to cheating.”

He sighed, “That means nothing to me. If anything, she’s just a distraction while you were gone. It’s always been you I’m meant to be with. I ruined it and forced myself to move on. And now you’re back.”

You bit your finger, feeling conflicted. “But—” Before you could interrogate him more, he captured your lips in another kiss, drowning out your thoughts. His hands ventured lower, teasing the hem of your skirt. Looking into your eyes for confirmation, you nodded, giving him permission to explore further. He slipped his fingers beneath your clothing, pressing against your core, and groaned as he felt your wetness.

He swirled his fingers before moving to your clit, rubbing in deep, rhythmic motions. You broke the kiss to moan, your head thrown back, exposing your neck and chest. He kissed a trail from behind your ear to the tops of your breasts, and then, with a practiced ease, slid a finger inside you.

You gasped, leaning into the crook of his neck. “That’s a good girl. You can take a little more, right?”

You whimper a soft yes, and he added a second finger, igniting a fevered kiss filled with passion and frustration. Despite your anger, desire overwhelmed you. He pumped in and out quickly, his thumb working your clit, sending you into a frenzy. Your breaths quickened, and you were amazed that no one could hear your moans.

“That’s right, baby. Let me make you feel good. Let me make it up to you. Come for me.”

As waves of pleasure washed over you, your head spun, heart racing. With a gasp, you reached your peak, surrendering completely as he rode out your orgasm, his unoccupied hand brushing your cheek. After a few lingering pumps, he withdrew, licking his fingers clean before adjusting your panties and gazing into your eyes.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said softly. You struggled to find your voice, lost in the moment until the door slammed open, revealing JJ. Rage simmered within you at the thought of a confrontation between him and your brother, but Rafe turned to you. “We’ll talk more another time, baby.”

You smiled and nodded, but as he walked out, JJ turned to you with a look of disgust. “What the hell did he want?”

“Nothing. We were trying to talk before you interrupted,” you replied. “I didn’t know he saw me come in.”

“Are you going to talk to him about her?”

“I don’t know, J.”

---

I hope you like it. My first of many stories. I decided to break it into parts. Stretch it out over the month before part 2 of the season drops.

[brujaluas]

what made you and them unique to each other?

double tarot reading from each other's perspective <3

you guys… this reading gave me a lot of work SO I THINK IT WOULD BE GREAT IF YOU SHOW IN SOME WAY IF YOU LIKED THE READING, BE IT BY COMMENTING, OR AT LEAST FAVORITE IT HERE, IF NOT I WILL LET MY LATIN MOTHER SPIRIT ACT UPON YOU, but this is obviously not a threat, I love you like I love Hello Kitty, without further ado, let's go!!!!

pile 1

why did your future spouse choose you over anyone else?

hm, your future spouses are the naughty type hehe, they felt an intense attraction to you right from the first moment, as soon as they laid eyes on you they wanted to infiltrate your skin, they found you the hottest, most interesting, most attractive and captivating person they have ever met and look, they have met a lot of people lol but don't think superficially, they felt that you are the light of their life, the sun, the earth, the moon and the stars (too poetic)

why did you choose your future spouse over another?

They gave you a sense of freedom and space, some here like or need to learn to be alone, in their solitude and they gave you that space, for you to love yourself, and they also saw your worst, you may meet them at a bad time in your life, you may even be frustrated because you didn't want to meet your spouse in such circumstances but they will see your worst, you think you should trust only to yourself but this not true, they will choose to stay, without any strings attached and leaving you free the way you like but always giving you a message of being close by.

pile 2

why did your future spouse choose you over anyone else?

they will see you as someone very cool, you will be the best friend they were asking the universe for, it is as if you brought relief to their lives, even if you fight a lot here, you find a way to get back together, it is as if they had a lot of traumas and were starting to have new deep connections with people and you would be there from the beginning

why did you choose your future spouse over another?

they have an excellent masculine energy that makes you feel very good and comfortable, they are responsible, they are great providers in your life, they love and adore you very much and you feel this love, it is as if they tell you exactly what to do for you to see that you are truly loved by them.

pile 3

why did your future spouse choose you over anyone else?

Well, they may have been through a lot of turbulent things in their lives, including health problems, and you may have the chance to meet them when they are feeling down, but somehow, you will act as the best doctor they could ever receive, a therapist, a friend, a shoulder to cry on, the solution to their problems, they will start to find life beautiful again because you will show them that life is worth living.

I AM IN TEARS

why did you choose your future spouse over another?

Hmm, you have had bad relationships where your partners brought out the worst in you, you could have constant jealousy, possessiveness and aggressiveness with words or attitudes, when in fact you are not like that, but unfortunately when we are with low vibration people they always bring out the worst in us, which is regrettable, you have already sacrificed a lot in this life, but now with your spouse all this is behind you, you can act like the loving person that you are, the sweet person you were born to be

(hug me sisters and brothers)

[soluversworld]

MISTER x SHOUJO - Subaru Oogami x G.N Reader part 3

The kid at the back is a 18+ visual novel Minors don’t interact!

Words:

Genre: G.N Reader (Fluff, Angst!)

Summary: You and Geo navigate an unconventional relationship built on misunderstanding, tension, and unexpected moments of connection. After a lie spirals out of control, rumors spread that Geo is your boyfriend, much to the confusion of everyone around you—including Geo himself. Despite his cold and hostile demeanor, Geo reluctantly agrees to play along, but only for his own peace and solitude.

Geo’s sharp, broody personality often leaves you feeling uncertain and overwhelmed. He doesn’t hesitate to criticize you, flick your forehead when you talk back, or scold you for minor mistakes. Yet, he also protects you, whether from prying classmates or persistent admirers, and even takes your hand to make a show of your “relationship” when his friends are watching.

( Reader is a g.n!)-

Trigger Warning: This content contains themes of

Tension-filled dynamics with elements of power imbalance and verbal hostility’s

Rumors and social pressures leading to feelings of alienation and discomfort.

Physical gestures of dominance (e.g., flicking foreheads, pinching).

Underlying themes of unresolved trauma and complex family dynamics

Solivan Brugmanisa

Violence, Blood

EXTRA: He’s a character from a game named The kid at the back!! Note, Been reading a lot of Shoujo mangas why not! Make Geo and reader in such a simple plot!

Me basically to TKATB at this point

It had been a few days since that night. Geo had been close—physically near you in class, walking beside you when schedules aligned—but he hadn’t opened his mouth to speak even once. His presence was there, a silent weight lingering just within reach, yet he felt so far away.

You didn’t question it at first. Maybe this was just how he was. Maybe he didn’t have anything to say. Maybe, deep down, you were scared to push for answers.

But today was different.

Geo wasn’t in class.

That wasn’t normal.

You found yourself frowning, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling creeping into your stomach. It wasn’t like you were worried—Geo was more than capable of handling himself—but still… something felt off.

The whispers in the hallways didn’t help. The absence of his brooding presence was enough to stir murmurs among the students. Even the professors looked surprised to see his usual seat empty.

Finally, during a break, you cornered Crowe near the student council office. He had his usual calm, unreadable expression as he flipped through some documents.

"Where’s Geo?" you asked, trying to keep your tone casual, but the slight tension in your voice betrayed you.

Crowe barely looked up. "Sick."

You blinked. "Sick?"

Crowe nodded, still scanning the papers in his hands. "Yeah. Caught a cold or something."

You frowned. "Someone like him actually gets sick?"

Crowe finally looked at you with a faint smirk. "He’s human, you know. Not some untouchable deity, despite what half the student body believes."

You hesitated, not sure why that answer made your chest feel tight.

"Anyway," Crowe continued, flipping to the next page. "I need to deliver this document to him, but I’m swamped with council work. If you could—"

"What?" you interrupted.

Crowe glanced at you, amusement flickering in his eyes. "You’re his lover, aren’t you? He might actually be happy to see you."

You immediately looked away, feeling a heat rise to your face. "We’re not—"

"You’re close enough," Crowe said, waving off your weak protest. "You’re the best candidate."

You stood there for a moment, gripping the strap of your bag. You could say no. You could let someone else handle it. But before you could find the words to refuse, your own traitorous voice mumbled, "…Okay."

Crowe’s smile widened slightly, like he’d expected that answer all along. He handed you the document, and before you could second-guess yourself, you took it.

Geo’s place wasn’t what you expected.

Despite knowing he was rich, his home wasn’t a grand mansion or some absurd penthouse. It was sleek, modern, and surprisingly quiet. The kind of place that felt detached from the world, just like him.

You stood outside his door, the document in one hand, your other hesitating mid-air as you debated knocking.

Why were you nervous?

It wasn’t like this was some big deal.

Finally, before your overthinking could spiral further, you knocked.

Standing outside Geo’s apartment door, you took a deep breath before knocking.

No answer.

You knocked again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

For a moment, you debated leaving. Maybe Crowe had been messing with you. Maybe Geo was fine, just skipping classes like an arrogant bastard.

But the way Crowe had said, “Geo’s sick”—it lingered in your mind. The guy never got sick, so it felt wrong.

You tried again, this time speaking up.

“It’s me.”

Silence. Then, muffled shuffling from inside.

The door cracked open slightly, and you barely had time to see his face before he grumbled, “How the hell did you get my address?”

Your mouth opened, then closed. You decided against lying. “Crowe gave it to me.”

Geo let out a slow, tired exhale, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes—usually sharp and piercing—looked dull, the dark circles beneath them standing out even more against his pale skin. His hair was slightly messy, strands falling over his forehead, and his hoodie was barely hanging onto his shoulders.

He looked terrible.

And terrifying.

Great combination.

“Fantastic,” he muttered sarcastically. “You did it. You found me. Now go.”

Before you could argue, he turned back into his apartment. But in his tired haze, he miscalculated his steps—his shoulder slammed into the doorpost, making him stagger.

Then, as if the universe decided to humiliate him further, the door itself swung in, slamming into his back as it slowly creaked shut.

Geo let out a weak thud as he crumpled onto the floor.

You stared.

“…Geo?”

No response.

Your stomach dropped, and without thinking, you shoved the door open wider, rushing inside. You crouched beside him, panic creeping into your voice. “Hey—Geo, are you—”

No answer.

Your hands trembled slightly as you touched his shoulder, trying to shake him awake. He was burning up.

Shit.

Muttering a curse, you hooked your arms under his, trying to lift him. He was heavy—which made sense considering he was taller than you, but still. With some effort, you managed to drag him toward his bed, awkwardly maneuvering until he was sprawled across it.

You let out a sigh, standing back and catching your breath. His blanket was half-kicked off, so you grabbed it and pulled it over him.

His breathing was slow but steady. His face, though flushed with fever, was still that same unreadable expression. He looked… weirdly vulnerable like this.

You sat at the edge of the bed, frowning. “Did you take any medicine?”

His eyelids barely lifted. “…No.”

You crossed your arms. “Why?”

He groaned, shifting under the blanket. “I’ll sleep it off. Get out.”

You ignored him, pulling out your phone to search how to make rice porridge. If he wouldn’t take medicine, at least he needed something.

But before you could even start, Geo suddenly pushed himself up and reached for your phone, snatching it right out of your hands.

“No need to butt in,” he muttered, his voice hoarse but still laced with that same cold arrogance.

You blinked at him in disbelief. “Geo, you literally just collapsed—”

“Not your problem,” he cut in, tossing your phone back to you before falling back onto the bed.

You caught your phone with a slight stammer, your mind short-circuiting.

The next day, Geo still didn’t show up to class.

You were done.

Like, completely, mentally, emotionally, physically done.

Fine. He didn’t want your help? Cool. But the stubborn idiot wasn’t even taking care of himself. You didn’t know why it pissed you off so much. Maybe because of how arrogant he was, thinking he could just sleep off a fever like some kind of unbreakable warrior.

Well, guess what? He was broken. You saw him collapse.

And now, like it or not, you were going to fix this mess.

There was just one problem.

You had no idea how to cook.

Like, at all. The last time you tried making instant noodles, you somehow burned the water.

So, there was only one solution left.

You had to ask the one person you hated the most.

Your emo older brother.

You hesitated before calling. It had been a while since you actually reached out to him. Partly because he was an annoying stalker toward someone. Partly because he had this weird way of making you feel like a little kid again. And partly because, well… you just didn’t talk much anymore.

Still, you pressed the call button.

The phone rang a few times before a tired, groggy voice answered.

“Who’s this?”

Oh, right. You never actually gave him your number.

You hesitated, your fingers gripping the phone tighter. For a split second, you considered just hanging up.

Then, in a slightly awkward tone, you said, “…Hey, brother.”

Silence.

Then, a slow, drawn-out sigh. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Yeah.”

More silence.

Then, finally, “Why are you calling?”

You took a deep breath. “I need… a favor.”

That caught his attention. “A favor?” His voice perked up just slightly. “Did hell freeze over?”

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to hang up right then and there.

“I need some recipes,” you continued. “For someone who has a fever.”

A long pause. Then, suspiciously, “Who?”

You groaned. “None of your business.”

“Hmm.” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “A ‘friend,’ huh?”

You felt your eye twitch.

“Just give me the recipes, Sol.”

Sol hummed in thought. “I could cook it up for you.”

“No.” You shot that down immediately. “Just the recipes.”

Another long pause.

“…Fine,” he finally said. “I’ll text them to you.”

“…Thanks.”

A small chuckle. “Didn’t think you’d ever ask me for help.”

You sighed. “Yeah, well. Desperate times.”

There was a strange pause on his end. Then, in a quieter voice, he said, “Take care.”

You swallowed, caught off guard.

“…You too.”

The call ended.

You stared at your phone for a moment, your chest feeling oddly tight.

Sol was still a weirdo. A stalker to someone else. A mess in his own right.

That's all.

You needed an excuse. A good one. Something solid enough that Geo wouldn’t immediately slam the door in your face again.

So, naturally, you went to Crowe.

The student council president glanced up from his desk when you approached, his sharp eyes laced with curiosity. “Yes?”

You hesitated for a moment before finally blurting, “I need a reason to visit Geo.”

Crowe’s expression barely shifted, but you could tell he was amused. He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head slightly. “Why?”

Not wanting to explain yourself, you quickly scanned the nearest stack of papers on his desk—Geo’s test results. Without thinking, you grabbed them.

“I’ll deliver these,” you announced.

Crowe looked worried Y/n, It's fine-

You ignored him, shoving the documents into your bag. “See ya.”

You turned to leave, Crowe chuckled under his breath. “Both of you are stubborn, I do miss M-, They got a boyfriend now...hm.."

Geo looked like he regretted opening the door the second he saw you.

His feverish aquamarine eyes flickered with annoyance as he grumbled, “How the hell did you get my address again?”

You held up the test results. “Crowe sent me. Thought you’d want these.”

Geo’s tired stare lingered on you, his gaze heavy with skepticism. He exhaled slowly, as if debating whether you were worth dealing with.

Rather than wait for an invitation, you stepped inside.

Behind you, you heard a muffled, “The hell—” but Geo was too exhausted to physically stop you.

His house was immaculate, yet the signs of sickness were obvious. Half-finished water bottles littered the table, crumpled tissues sat on the couch, and there, on his nightstand, was an untouched pack of medicine.

So that’s how it was.

You turned back to him.

He stood stiffly, arms crossed, dressed in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants. His normally sharp features were dulled by exhaustion, lips pale, dark hair slightly unkempt. His fever made his already fair complexion flush slightly, giving him an almost vulnerable look—if not for the constant glare he threw your way.

You sighed. “Go back to bed.”

“I was in bed until you knocked on my door.”

Ignoring him, you stepped forward. He instinctively tried to block you, but you reached out, gripping his shoulders firmly.

Then, without much thought, you pushed him back.

Unfortunately, you underestimated just how stubbornly solid he was.

Which resulted in the both of you tumbling backward.

Straight onto the bed.

You landed on top of him, your hands planted on his chest, his arms half-raised as if debating whether to shove you off.

Silence stretched between you.

Geo’s fevered gaze bore into yours, his lips parting slightly before pressing into a tight line. His grip on your waist was hesitant, like he wasn’t sure whether to push or hold you in place.

His breath was warm against your cheek.

“…Was this necessary?” His voice, though rough, was eerily calm.

Your entire body tensed. “S-Sorry!”

You scrambled off him so fast that you nearly fell again.

As you moved, your bag tipped over, and its contents spilled across his bed—packs of medicine, fever patches, a sports drink, a whole damn arsenal of cold remedies.

Geo stared at the mess. Then at you.

“…Are you trying to drown me in medicine?”

You huffed, brushing off his sarcasm. “You need it.”

He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, exhaling sharply. “I told you—I’m fine.”

“You look awful.”

“That’s just my natural state.”

Your fingers curled into fists. This idiot. This absolute moron.

Geo’s gaze darkened slightly. “What’s your deal?”

“What?”

“You came here, barged in, and now you’re playing doctor.” His fevered stare pinned you in place. “What do you want? You trying to put me in your debt?”

The accusation hit you like a slap.

You blinked at him. “What? No.”

“Then why?” His voice was quiet, but sharp, cutting straight through you.

Why?

You didn’t have an answer.

You had no logical reason.

You just wanted to be here.

“…I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, Geo said nothing.

Then, with a tired sigh, he leaned back against the pillows, muttering, “You’re so fucking annoying.”

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but smile a little.

He didn’t throw you out.

It wasn’t just one message. Or two.

It was ten.

From Sol.

[Sol]: Here. Easy-to-make recipes for someone with a fever. [Sol]: Don’t mess it up. [Sol]: Actually, knowing you, you will. [Sol]: Try not to set anything on fire. [Sol]: …Actually, do you even know how to cook? [Sol]: If not, just tell me, I’ll make something and drop it off. [Sol]: Hello??? [Sol]: Why are you ignoring me? [Sol]: Fine, good luck burning down the kitchen. [Sol]: Call me when you inevitably fail.

You stared at the flood of messages, lips twitching.

No way in hell were you going to admit that Sol was right.

So, instead of just picking one recipe like a normal person, you did the most idiotic thing imaginable.

You made all ten.

The kitchen became a war zone of pots, ingredients, and sheer stubborn determination. Rice porridge, miso soup, some kind of soft omelet dish—each one made with painstaking effort. You tasted everything, ensuring it was at least edible. Surprisingly, nothing tasted bad. Maybe even… okay?

The next morning, you returned to Geo’s place, knocking sharply.

When he opened the door, his feverish eyes flickered in confusion at the sight of you holding an entire tray stacked with food.

“What the fuck?” His voice was hoarse, his confusion genuine. “Are you stupid?”

You ignored the insult and brushed past him, entering his home like you owned the place. You set the tray on his table and turned to him with a proud grin.

“I made food,” you announced.

Geo pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. “Yeah, I can see that.”

You motioned toward the dishes. “Eat.”

Geo rubbed his temples, muttering, “You made way too much. Why the hell—”

“I didn’t care,” you cut in. “I just… wanted to make sure you had options.”

Geo stared at you.

Then at the ridiculous amount of food.

Then back at you.

“…You’re an idiot.”

“You’re welcome.”

He sighed, stepping toward the table. His movements were sluggish, weighed down by exhaustion. Even as he sat down, he barely touched the food, his fingers loosely gripping the chopsticks.

“I’m tired,” he muttered. “I’ll eat later.”

Your eye twitched.

Like hell you were going to let all that effort go to waste.

You picked up a spoonful of porridge and held it up to his mouth. “Then I’ll feed you.”

Geo’s entire body tensed.

Then, like a lightning bolt struck him, he shot up from his chair, snatched the chopsticks, and started eating at a speed you didn’t think was possible for a sick person.

You blinked.

And then, slowly, a giggle escaped your lips.

Geo glared at you, his expression sharp despite the slight flush on his cheeks—whether from fever or embarrassment, you weren’t sure. “Shut up.”

You giggled again, covering your mouth. “Your stupid pride is hilarious.”

Geo scowled, shoving another bite of food into his mouth.

But he kept eating.

And somehow, despite the insults, despite the glares, despite the fever and his sheer stubbornness—

You couldn’t help but feel warm.

The quiet hum of the faucet filled the kitchen as you scrubbed the last dish, the warm water running over your fingers. The apartment was eerily silent, except for the occasional soft rustle of blankets from the other room.

Geo had finally fallen asleep.

You exhaled, glancing toward the door leading to his room. The exhaustion on his face earlier had been evident—dark circles under his aquamarine eyes, the way his shoulders sagged just slightly more than usual. He had been running on sheer stubbornness.

At least now, for a little while, he was resting.

Somewhere deep in sleep, Geo’s dream began to take shape.

Snow.

It was always snow.

He stood in a field of white, untouched and pristine, the cold air crisp against his skin. Small figures dotted the landscape—snowmen, uneven and clumsily built, their lopsided heads tilting as if caught mid-thought.

He knew these snowmen.

He had built them before.

The memory surfaced unbidden—tiny hands, gloves too big, laughter ringing in the air as two children shaped mounds of snow into something resembling people.

His people. Your people.

His gaze flickered over the frozen figures. There, in the middle, stood the ones you both had made to look like each other.

But something was wrong.

Yours was collapsed. Fallen to the ground, half-melted, as if abandoned.

Geo stepped forward, reaching out—

But before he could fix it, the dream shattered.

His eyes snapped open.

A soft warmth pressed against his forehead.

He tensed.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he was still dreaming. The dim glow of his bedside lamp illuminated the room, and there you were, leaning over him, fingers lightly touching his forehead as if checking his temperature.

Your expression was focused, careful, unaware that he had woken up.

“…Sorry.”

Your voice broke the silence as you noticed his open eyes. You quickly pulled your hand away. “Did I wake you up?”

Geo blinked, disoriented. His body still felt heavy with fever, his mind sluggish—but there was something else. A lingering sense of unease, a whisper of a feeling he didn’t quite understand.

His voice was rough when he spoke.

“…Were you here the entire time?”

You hesitated. “I… yeah.”

Geo sat up slowly, pressing a hand to his forehead as if trying to make sense of everything. His gaze flickered toward you, sharp but unreadable.

Then, with quiet suspicion, he asked, “What are you trying to get out of this?”

You froze. “What?”

His expression remained guarded, a hint of wariness behind his fever-clouded eyes. “You’re like this—helping, acting nice. You must be after something.”

A heavy pause.

Then, you let out a sigh, rubbing your temples. “Why do you always look at everything that way?”

Geo didn’t answer.

You shook your head. “I didn’t do this because I had to. I did it because I wanted to.”

Your words hung in the air between you.

Geo’s lips parted slightly as if he wanted to argue, but no words came out. His mind raced, trying to place this feeling—the way his stomach twisted at your sincerity, the way his chest ached with something unfamiliar.

You looked at him, your voice softer this time. “You need to stop this.”

Geo swallowed, his throat dry. “Stop what?”

You exhaled, eyes searching his. “Pushing people away.”

Silence.

For once, Geo didn’t have a quick, snide remark.

He just… sat there. Looking at you.

And for the first time, in a long time, he felt something he couldn’t quite define.

You picked up the glass of water from the bedside table, the cool condensation wetting your fingers. Geo was still staring at you, his expression unreadable, fever-glazed eyes watching your every movement as if trying to decipher something.

“Drink this,” you said simply, holding out the glass.

He didn’t move at first, just kept looking at you with that strange, lingering gaze. You sighed, pushing the glass closer. “Geo.”

Finally, he took it, his fingers brushing against yours for a fleeting second before he pulled away. He brought the glass to his lips, drinking slowly, deliberately. You watched him, making sure he didn’t do something stupid like refuse halfway.

The tension from earlier still hung in the air, thick and heavy, but you decided to ignore it.

As soon as he finished, you placed the empty glass back on the table and grabbed your bag. “Alright,” you said, standing up. “You should rest. I’ll be going now.”

Geo was silent.

You turned to leave, but just as your hand reached for the door, his voice stopped you.

“…Why?”

You paused, glancing back. “Why what?”

He shifted slightly under the blanket, his aquamarine eyes dark and serious despite the fever’s haze. “Why are you doing this?”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “I already told you.”

“I want to hear it again.”

You rolled your eyes. “Because I wanted to, not because I had to.”

Geo didn’t respond right away. He just kept looking at you like he was trying to unravel something in his head. His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say more, but then he hesitated, gaze flickering away.

You waited for a moment, but when he didn’t say anything else, you turned back toward the door.

“…Get better soon, Geo.”

The next morning, you found yourself running through the familiar streets, the cold morning air stinging your lungs. You didn’t even think about it—you just ran, feet pounding against the pavement, until you reached Geo’s apartment complex.

Your heart was racing, though you weren’t sure if it was from running or from something else entirely.

As you reached his door, you saw him—already outside, dressed casually in a hoodie and jeans, locking his door.

You skidded to a stop, panting. “What the—? Geo! What are you doing?”

He glanced at you, unimpressed. “Going to the store.”

Your brows furrowed. “The store?” You stepped closer, grabbing his wrist. “You literally had a fever yesterday! You should still be resting!”

He clicked his tongue, trying to pull his arm away, but you tightened your grip and pushed him back inside. “Nope. You’re not going anywhere.”

Geo scowled, but before he could argue, you had already shoved him toward his bed, forcing him to sit. He gave you a glare that could probably kill a lesser person, but you weren’t fazed. You grabbed his wrist, checking his temperature with the back of your hand.

Normal. No more fever.

You let out a sigh of relief, but your hands stayed on him just a second longer than necessary. “You’re better now,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

Geo stayed quiet, watching you with a strange expression. He seemed to be lost in thought, his eyes unreadable as he studied your face.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

“…Thank you.”

You froze. “Huh?”

“I said thank you,” he repeated, voice quieter this time, like it physically hurt him to say it.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You stared at him, feeling like you had just witnessed something rare—something no one else had ever seen before.

Geo, saying thank you.

The moment felt too surreal.

“I thought you hated this kind of thing,” you finally managed to say.

“I do,” he replied. His gaze flickered away for a second, as if debating whether or not he should keep talking. “…I hate people who go out of their way to show how big their hearts are. People who want to prove something by helping others. Love letters, fake kindness, people who think they’re saints.” His voice darkened. “People like my brother.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden mention of his brother, but before you could ask, he continued.

“…But you’re different.” His eyes met yours again, calmer now. “You didn’t have any ulterior motives. You just did it.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “So, I don’t mind thanking you.”

Your face felt warm.

You swallowed, gripping your hoodie’s sleeves. “You’re acting weird,” you blurted out, trying to lighten the moment. “Maybe your fever isn’t gone.”

You reached up, placing your hand on his forehead without thinking. But before you could even process the warmth of his skin against your palm, Geo’s hand shot up, catching your wrist mid-air.

“I’m fine,” he said. His grip was firm, his touch lingering just a second too long.

You felt heat crawl up your neck.

Panic kicked in. “R-Right! Okay! Uh—” You yanked your wrist back, stumbling over your words. “Then, uh, I’ll just—go! Yeah! Bye!”

And before you could embarrass yourself further, you spun around and bolted out of his apartment.

As you ran down the street, your heart was hammering against your ribs, your face burning.

And then—

“Hahahaha—”

A laugh bubbled out of your throat, uncontrollable, giddy.

You clutched your chest, still breathless from running.

You really, really liked him.

You kept running, but your brain was running even faster.

Why?

Why the hell was my heart beating so fast? To him? Of all people?

You didn’t slow down until you turned the corner, out of sight from his apartment. Then, without thinking, you smacked your own forehead.

"Get a grip!" you hissed to yourself, pacing in a frantic circle. "This is Geo we’re talking about! He’s an asshole! He’s rude, cynical, hates people—"

Your voice trailed off as your heartbeat betrayed you again, thudding against your ribs like a traitor.

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face.

Why did he have to say it like that?

You didn’t have any ulterior motives. You just did it.

That wasn’t something Geo would normally say. He wasn’t the type to acknowledge kindness, let alone thank someone for it.

And that look in his eyes…

You groaned again, this time smacking your forehead against the nearest lamppost.

Maybe you were the one with the fever.

Shaking off the thought, you forced yourself to keep walking, determined to shove whatever this was deep, deep down.

But your fingers still tingled where he had grabbed your wrist.

[queersolaris]

I watched Flow (2024) a few days ago and I have been itching to get my thoughts out in some kind of way!! So don’t mind me gushing/ psychoanalysis this absolutely amazing movie—

This post will probably be all over the place cause I am still processing everything; forgive the jumbling thoughts

I think this movie had so many angles to see it from~ I totally got the found family (MY BRAND) and climate change perspectives buuuut what got me tearing up was interpreting it as parts of a person processing trauma

“oh this feels like it should be a video game” was actually my first thought

From the silence, style, hell even the boat steering felt like a game mechanic-- it kept coming to mind that this was similar to games like Brothers: a tale of two sons or When the past was around (kinda)?

It seemed obvious that there is trauma going on; how could there not be with an event like that? The theme that got me thinking it was more so about parts was 'reflection'

Obviously it starts and ends with a scene of the cat looking at itself in the water; but there was also our lemur friend being obsessed with their reflection in the mirror. From the angle of it being about parts dealing with trauma here is my dump of thoughts— I know its not that deep but I JUST GOTTA GET THIS OUTTA ME

The stags running represents the trauma event itself and the water felt like the overwhelming feelings that come afterwards-- something you can’t control it’s depth and suffocated by as it keeps rising no matter how much you try to escape/ignore it

The cat being in a house that is already run down feels like it’s clinging onto anything that is familiar but the feelings won’t let the cat survive— feelings will create the need for change and that’s is unavoidable (especially with trauma) The run down house could also have represented the way the cat has settled in poor conditions with time, old memories from a simpler time, and that can lead to isolation

Cat = representing resilience/self sustainability through situations which is why it is the main POV; it can lead to overwhelm and helplessness when isolated but it is the adaptability that is needed to progress (throughout the movie or trauma)-- the statues at the house could also be seen as almost versions of that; moments that it was bigger, smaller, more mobile but always is the same form

Dog = it was interesting that this character was introduced at the start but not along the journey the whole time right? I thought they were a representation of surviving through socializing— there is childishness and innocence but it is mainly always seen with others or serving others

Maybe the dog even could represent a child self ; something always willing to trusts others and help selflessly They do jump in to protect but in a way that is not rejecting

Capybara = survival by freezing or floating thru the situation— which is why we get to see them already on the boat, their focus is to nurture itself for the next day… taking it one day at a time and doing what it could but not worrying too much about the things it can’t help

Bird = the opposite of our doggy friend— we meet it as the one of the first to be around others of its kind but there is a self sacrificing nature to it. Giving its food to fighting for the cats safety... it has a protective role; however in a way that reject risks of the groups survival/comfort (with the pack of dogs) yet when that over protectiveness leaves… the situation ends soon after

I wondered before the bird disappeared if it was meant to be a older self— still juxtaposed to the dog— something with more trust issues because of experience, it looks after the other parts, even steers the others in the right direction... the connection to the cat also felt right ya know?? The parts of you that are willing to adapt usually come out the most in adulthood or when you need to be your more 'mature' self

There is also the concept of the flight response it could represent; which is why they did not want to be around the pack of dogs— almost showing it wanting to run/keep away from others

It disappearing felt like maybe there was something else— like this is meant to represent passing on a part or habit that kept healing at bay but was necessary to move through the trauma

Lemur = obsessed with material and it’s own reflection— it seems to be the part that tries to survive with status and the approval of others; of course being self destructive…

Maybe representing rumination, clinging onto things that are apart of the familiarity (which is why the movie kept the ball from the house as a reoccurring object), and even masking since the mirror was something that gave it company later before realizing it wasn’t the kind of company it wanted

The foundations crumble suddenly, the overflow of emotions (water) starts to sink in; leaving things different and the same (it seems like the same forest/area). We see the stags again running like before-- which almost indicates that something similar could happen. Then the cat waits for it all to happen again; the worst. When nothing does it runs after them almost looking for an answer, I think we've all been there; trying to figure out why our responses vary or what is was about us that has changed from before that makes things easier. That's when the cat gets to see our final part:

Whale = this thing made me cry for sure because throughout the story it felt like this represented old coping mechanisms (like from childhood); something that kept you a float or going no matter how dire things became—when rock bottom would hit in the middle of floating/navigating so many feelings-- it ensured survival. Even when the cat finally learned to fish for itself (which now i wonder was meant to be like naming emotions or processing things bit by bit) the whale shows up once more almost to be a reminder that it was still around even when not fully needed. At the end when foundations crumbled, the whale is no longer able to survive… and the cat is able to thank it for its help.

The water was there the whole movie but there was little times when the cat seemed to look at it's reflection. When it did it again at the end of the movie but with whole group being together-- I was obviously crying because dammit undertale you’re right despite everything it is still you

OH about the video game thought— looking at this from the lens of a trauma response; it did make more sense to be told as a movie; I mean with a game I can pause… I can take myself out of their experience and feel in control with a situation that is meant to not let us feel any

So being a movie instead is actually perfect

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ choso x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack, fluff

"Halloween is a time for joy, costumes, and most importantly—free candy. But when Choso discovers that adults aren’t allowed to trick-or-treat, devastation ensues. Now, it’s up to you to gaslight, manipulate, and lie your way through an entire neighborhood. He’s getting that candy. No matter what."

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: based off of this ask!

You were not prepared for this.

You had woken up that morning with the same expectations as any other responsible adult on Halloween: binge-watch some horror movies that you had already seen twenty times, gorge yourself on the local store's finest selection of bulk discount candy, and ignore the 50+ trick-or-treaters outside by pretending you weren’t home. Simple. Predictable. Peaceful.

What you had not anticipated, however, was the scenario currently unfolding in front of you.

Because standing at your front door, illuminated by the warm glow of your porch light, was a very large, very ominous, very serious-looking man—clutching a tiny plastic pumpkin bucket in his hands like it was his most prized possession.

Choso.

And he was in a full costume.

Not just a lazy "I’m wearing cat ears, so technically I dressed up" kind of costume. No, this was handcrafted. Like someone had spent hours—maybe days—painstakingly assembling it, piece by piece, with the dedication of an over-caffeinated cosplayer on a deadline.

And that someone, apparently, was Choso.

He was dressed as a bat. Or maybe a vampire bat. Some kind of bat-adjacent creature. The details were immaculate—stitched wings attached to a black hoodie, little bat ears perched on top of the hood. You recalled a vague conversation where he had solemnly informed you that he learned about vampire bats on the internet and felt a deep, personal kinship with them due to their connection with blood. You had assumed he was joking. You now realized you had been a fool.

The most jarring part, though? The way he was just standing there. Expectant. Silent. Like a Victorian orphan who had just knocked on a bakery window, waiting for a kind-hearted stranger to toss him a loaf of bread.

“I am ready,” Choso announced, lifting up his little plastic pumpkin bucket.

“For what?” you asked, even though you already knew.

“To trick-or-treat.”

You stared at him. He stared back, utterly unphased, like this was the most normal request in the world.

You were the first to break. "Why?"

Choso tightened his grip on the bucket, his face as blank as ever. "Because I, too, would like free candy."

That was it. That was his entire reasoning. No further explanation. No additional context. Just that.

And, honestly? Respect.

Unfortunately, there was a flaw in his plan.

You let the silence settle between you before sighing, already feeling the impending heartbreak of what you had to say. "Choso, uh… trick-or-treating is for kids."

Silence.

Choso’s entire body went rigid.

“…Oh,” he said softly.

Oh.

Oh no.

His expression didn’t change much—because, well, it was Choso—but the shift in his aura was instant. The sheer, unfiltered heartbreak radiating off of him was enough to physically knock the wind out of you.

It was devastating.

You had just emotionally obliterated a 150-year-old man with the cold, cruel truth of modern society.

You had crushed him.

The light in his eyes dimmed immediately, his broad shoulders slumped, and his grip on his tiny plastic pumpkin bucket slackened ever so slightly. If Choso were a dog, his tail would’ve stopped wagging and dropped between his legs. He just stood there, looking at you like a kid who just found out Santa wasn’t real, but worse.

"But… there were other adults dressed up," he said, slower this time, as if he was carefully laying down his evidence in a court case. “I just… I thought…” His voice was quieter now. “I thought humans gave candy to people who asked nicely.”

Oh, Christ.

You felt your soul leave your body.

You hesitated, debating how to phrase your next words without causing further irreparable damage to this already emotionally fragile situation. "...Yeah, but—" You winced as his expression somehow got even sadder. "Some adults dress up, but they don’t actually get candy. It’s more for the kids—"

Choso looked like you had just personally stolen Christmas, burned the last existing copy of his favorite book, and drop-kicked his childhood dreams off a cliff. Like all 150 years of his life had been leading up to this moment, and you had just yanked it away from him.

This was a disaster.

And suddenly, you were spiraling.

Because how could you let this happen? How could you look this poor man in the face—the same poor man who had meticulously sewn bat wings onto a hoodie with his own two hands—who had never celebrated a human holiday in his life and deny him the one thing he wanted most in the world?

No. Absolutely not.

"Y'know what? Screw it," you blurted out, already grabbing your coat. "We’re going trick-or-treating."

Choso’s perked up immediately. "We are?"

"Yeah! Of course!" You grabbed your keys, practically shoving him out the door. "You deserve this, dammit. You made a costume! You're getting some goddamn candy!"

He still looked hesitant. "But… you said only children—"

"Listen," you interrupted, gripping both of his shoulders like a commander about to send a soldier into battle. "I am about to lie so hard for you. No one will question it. We are getting you that candy, even if I have to gaslight an entire neighborhood."

Choso stared at you, his dark brown eyes flickering with the tiniest bit of hope and gratitude. The relief that crossed his face was subtle, but it was there. He looked down at his pumpkin bucket, then back at you.

“…Thank you,” he murmured, soft and sincere.

You swore on your life in that moment: this man would not return home empty-handed.

Even if you had to commit minor fraud, threaten a few suburban dads, and launch an elaborate con involving fake IDs, Choso was getting his damn candy.

The first house you went to was owned by a sweet-looking old woman, who, upon opening the door, looked utterly baffled to find a six-foot, broad-shouldered, fully-grown man in a bat costume standing on her porch.

It was a level of confusion that could only be described as existential.

Her gaze flickered between you and Choso. Then back at you. Then back at Choso, as if she were trying to determine whether she had just walked into a prank show or a very specific fever dream.

Choso, ever patient, just stood there in total silence. Staring. His plastic pumpkin bucket held out expectantly, like some kind of summoned demon awaiting orders.

"Go ahead, honey. Say the thing!" You nudged Choso gently, as if prompting a very large, very stoic toddler.

Choso took this as his cue. "Trick-or-treat," he said, his voice completely monotone. It was less of a festive exclamation and more of a solemn decree, like he was passing a legal verdict instead of asking for candy.

The old woman blinked. Slowly. Processing.

“…Isn’t he a bit old for this?” she finally asked, her voice laced with cautious suspicion.

You gasped dramatically, clutching your chest as if she had just slapped you across the face with a rolled-up newspaper. "How dare you! Are you… ageist?" You took an exaggerated step forward, lowering your voice. "Are you discriminating against my son?"

The old woman narrowed her eyes. “Your… son?”

"Yes! My sweet, precious boy! He just… grew a little too fast, okay?" You turned to Choso and squinted at him, as if mentally calculating. "He’s only—" (Quick, what was a reasonable child height-to-muscle-mass ratio?) "—twelve."

Choso, a fully grown man with a deep voice and with the physique of someone who could deadlift an entire car, nodded solemnly despite having no idea what was going on. "I drink a lot of calcium."

The old woman was now fully in crisis mode. You could see the internal debate happening behind her eyes: If this is a joke, it’s a weird one. If it’s not a joke, I can’t risk offending them. What if they sue? What if this is one of those TikTok social experiments? What if I end up on the news?

In the end, her survival instincts kicked in, and she relented with a resigned sigh, dropping a handful of candy into Choso’s bucket.

"Thank you," Choso said politely, bowing slightly like he had just received a sacred offering.

And then you both booked it before she could start asking for birth certificates.

Success.

At the next house, a middle-aged man answered the door, taking one look at Choso and immediately frowning. “Aren’t you a little—"

You cut him off immediately. "He has Benjamin Button disease."

The man’s mouth clamped shut.

Choso nodded again, his expression the picture of solemn tragedy. "It is very unfortunate."

The guy hesitated. He looked between the two of you, unsure whether to call BS or just accept this bizarre reality. After a beat, he slowly reached into his candy bowl and placed a handful of sweets into Choso’s bucket.

"Much appreciated," Choso said, as if concluding a business transaction.

And so it continued.

You and Choso went door to door, blatantly lying to every single person you met with reckless abandon.

One woman hesitated before handing over the candy. "But… he’s clearly an adult."

You gasped, scandalized. "Are you implying my son is ugly? That he looks old?"

Choso, ever the picture of unwavering composure, simply added, "That is very rude."

Faced with the sheer emotional weight of your combined performance, the woman panicked and shoved extra candy into Choso’s bucket out of pure, unfiltered guilt.

Another house was occupied by an absolute hardliner—an older man who refused to budge, arms crossed as he sized Choso up like a bouncer at a club.

"Look, kid," the man said, voice gruff. "I’m not giving candy to adults. It’s for the kids."

You shook your head, sighing deeply like you were about to drop some heartbreaking exposé. "Some people just don’t believe in the spirit of Halloween anymore," you lamented. "Some people just hate seeing others happy."

Choso frowned, looking like a kicked puppy. "It is a shame."

Crushed beneath the weight of the guilt-trip you had so expertly wielded, the man folded immediately.

"Fine, fine—just take the candy and leave," he grumbled, tossing a generous handful into Choso’s bucket.

At one point, a particularly skeptical guy gave Choso a long, hard stare. “That's no twelve year old. He’s literally so much taller than you!"

"And? Are you saying short people can’t be parents?" you demanded, voice rising in offense.

The guy, now visibly distressed at this unexpected turn of events, sputtered. "Uh—"

"I can’t believe this," you continued, shaking your head. "What year is it? I thought we were past this."

The guy, absolutely not wanting to deal with whatever this was, hastily threw an entire bag of Skittles into Choso’s bucket.

Choso, ever polite, bowed again. "Thank you."

This continued for sixteen more houses.

By now, it was a well-oiled machine—your chaotic schemes paired perfectly with Choso’s unwavering, deadpan delivery.

Each interaction followed a strict, scientifically proven formula:

1. The door would open.

2. The person would look up.

3. They would freeze upon seeing Choso.

4. Choso would hold out his pumpkin bucket, say, “Trick or treat,” with all the enthusiasm of an office worker forced into mandatory team bonding, and then just… wait.

5. You would improvise an absolutely insane lie to justify his presence.

It was performance art.

By the time you reached the sixteenth house, your credibility as a law-abiding citizen had been annihilated beyond repair.

Through it all, Choso remained the unwavering pillar of calm. He never faltered. Never broke character. Just stood there, nodding occasionally, completely unbothered as you burned every social bridge you had ever built in this neighborhood.

But it was worth it.

Because by the end of the night, his pumpkin bucket was overflowing.

As the two of you walked home under the soft glow of streetlights, the sound of rustling candy wrappers filling the air, Choso cradled his bucket with both hands, his grip careful, reverent—like a dragon hoarding its most prized treasure.

He was cradling it.

Like a newborn.

You bit back a grin.

"That was fun," Choso murmured at last.

His voice, as always, was calm, neutral, and completely void of inflection—but the way he held that candy? The way his fingers curled around the handle of his bucket just a little tighter?

Yeah. You could tell.

He was overjoyed.

"You had a good time?" you asked, grinning.

He nodded. "Yes." Then, after a pause, "Humans have good traditions sometimes."

You chuckled. "Yeah. Sometimes we do."

A comfortable silence stretched between you as you walked. Then, after a long moment of thought, Choso reached into his bucket, his expression unreadable.

And pulled out a small, single pack of Skittles.

He held it out to you.

"For you," he said simply.

You blinked. "Wait. Are you—are you sharing your candy with me?"

Choso nodded. "You helped me get it."

You took the Skittles, deeply touched.

Sure, you had just humiliated yourself in front of your entire neighborhood. Sure, you were probably banned from at least twelve houses.

But seeing Choso happy? Seeing him fully experience Halloween, free candy in hand, the faintest ghost of a smile softening his normally blank expression?

Totally worth it.

Because Choso deserved good things.

And if that meant gaslighting an entire suburban neighborhood into believing he was a very large, very muscular twelve-year-old?

Then so be it.

[maudie-duan]

Summary: You were an almost lover, now a hushed whisper in the dark when his Ex moves back to town. Nothing is worse than a love than a love triangle you weren't expecting--old flames, new love, and lingering feelings, but who's the real winner when everyone gets hurt?

A/N: Yay!! It's finally here!!! Sorry for the delay. I could barely write last week due to headaches. Here is our BONUS BABY! Hope you guys like it! @harryyloverrr gave me some real inspo on how to start this chapter. Such a lovely human, and am so grateful for their constant support!

Warnings: 18+All Angst/Smut, Mentions: Cheating. Sexual Situations

Word Count: 6.9k

POV: YOU

The most devastating part about someone being confused about their feelings is the ruthless domino effect—that heart-wrenching chain reaction that comes crashing down, a line that, once triggered, becomes unstoppable, like the tears that continue to fall.

 A haunting sequence of events you’re forced to witness unfold—each domino cuts deep, a painful action that can’t be undone, a word that pierces like a knife, a thought that consumes you, a missed connection that leaves you aching with regret.

And there you stand, the helpless onlooker, watching this tragic show unfurl, your chest tight with anxiety, the maze of emotions devouring you whole as the fear sets in, each obstacle a soul-crushing finality you had never planned for, the twist and turns a trick until you completely lose sight of the architect in charge of the creating the shit show of suffering—forgetting how you even got to this point in the first place.

The catalyst behind the whole production.

The creator.

And yet, deep down, you anticipated every possible heartbreak, willingly casting yourself as “the fool”—sacrificing your peace at the altar of possibility, only to end up wounded in the process, spiraling through the desolate darkness of uncertainty, unable to distinguish reality from illusion.

The cruelest torment of existing in love’s shadowy middle ground is the not knowing. It’s the isolation that envelops you when doubt still clutches at your heart, when every moment becomes an exercise in desperate interpretation, searching for signs that the other person’s feelings mirror your own—a prison of perpetual questioning where answers remain just beyond reach.

Then there’s the wishing.

You wished the shift would have been subtle, but it was as predictable as Leah was the night you saw her at that party. You didn’t have to be the sharpest tool in the shed to figure out what was going on between Harry and Leah. You chalked it up to him being a “dumb boy” oblivious to the things we as women are trained to spot as soon as the word love even exists in our world. The petty downfall we somehow still find ourselves holding on to from time to time. You saw the look in her eyes that night, Leah sparking that competitive spirit you so desperately tried to bury, but you felt it. 

She wanted power. 

Now cue the regression, all the fucking work and effort you put into being a “girls-girl” because you knew in your bones what seeing her that one night would entail. Then you saw the DM, and it took everything in you to be a reasonably understanding person. You even gave Harry space when you felt him pulling away.

You thought maybe if you were the bigger person, he would come to his fucking senses, and when Harry sent a soft “Hey,” one random Tuesday, you thought he was back like he had figured out his shit, and then you found yourself slipping back into whatever you thought it was that you guys had going on before. 

And what was that exactly?

Because then you were seeing pictures of Harry cuddled up to Leah at her sister’s wedding—and yes, you knew this because you had combed through every social media account tied to those pictures, spiraling yet again in the dark ether of the internet, knowing it was never a good idea, and all night you lay there wondering if he went home with her. Wondering if one hook-up would seal the deal, and they would just be back on, fall back into whatever semblance of a relationship they had left.

The thought made you sick, and when Harry messaged you the next day as if nothing happened, you allowed it, and when he fell into your bed, you tried to forget, and you did forget. You forgot until the hangouts became unpredictable. When the consistency you once relied on became Harry showing up drunk, him crawling into your bed with all his clothes on, and you being the doting…what? You would be the one trying to pick up all his silent pieces, the sadness he brought you when he knew he was slowly fading from your life. 

You felt it in the way he nestled into your body, a quiet plead in his embrace. You could see the toll she was already taking on him, but you held this faith, a faith he didn’t deserve—a hope. You held it like you held your breath, waiting for him to choose you because that’s what it was; when you stripped yourself bare, that’s what you wanted; you wanted him to choose you because why else was he in your bed? 

You were in love. 

And you lost love before you even knew you had it.

But what was love if you could lose it?

And what was love if she could take it? If he could take it with him when he strolled out your door. 

How long would his absence leave a hole in your life? And the worst part about it was that it wasn’t like he went away. He didn’t just disappear. His last line was always at play, “Hopefully, it won’t be weird seeing me around,” And you still seethed with the disrespect of that one line, like it was casual because if that was casual, maybe you were the fucking idiot after all—a bitch and an idiot because that’s what he made you because who fucking says that? Especially when his dick had been inside you less than 24 hours before.

And it was weird. It was weird every time. 

 It was weird pretending it wasn’t weird seeing the two of them around, you know? That whole act just made everything hurt more, which, ironically, made you want him even more—knowing full well there was zero chance of that longing ever being satisfied because, hello, it was over.

And then, just when you thought you’d finally hit rock bottom and started climbing back up, bam—he and Leah broke up again. The kicker? He couldn’t even bother to tell you himself. Nope. You had to hear it from Sam, of all people. Like, seriously?

Then you waited. Praying for his guilt to kick in again, to call you up, to tell you about everything, to tell you he missed you, to tell you he still thought about you. Tell you that you didn’t have to keep the distance because you had. Ever since that night, you sent that text at the party. You really tried to let it go, and when they broke up again, You still kept your distance. 

And then, one night, you found yourself alone with Leah at some party, and maybe something changed after that:

You spotted her the moment you walked into the kitchen. Leah, standing alone by the counter, mixing a drink, swaying off balance—drunk nonetheless—and now you would have to face her. The noise of the party fading behind you as the door swung shut. For a second, you almost considered turning around, but she had already seen you.

“Hey,” she said, her voice slightly slurred.

“Hey.” The simple word foreign in your mouth. After everything, this was how you were starting.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the same nervous habit you’d noticed the last time you saw her from afar, her and Harry at Sam’s. Her fingers trembled slightly now, betraying the anxiety beneath her intoxicated exterior. You could see it in the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, in how her eyes darted around the room before settling back on you.

You knew their chapter had ended, but you didn’t know what the aftermath looked like this time. Knowing the facts was different from seeing her in person. From witnessing the lack of chemistry that never rekindled between them when she resurfaced in Harry’s life with apologies and promises.

Every story in History starts with a beginning, and she had taken yours as you watched him slowly gravitate back toward her like she was the sun and he’d never escaped her orbit. You became the footnote in their story, the temporary chapter between their beginning and their inevitable reunion. Standing here now, face to face with Leah, felt like some kind of cruel joke, like having the wind knocked out of you all over again.

Your heart hammered against your ribs. Was this the confrontation you’d been dreading? Some kind of victory lap now that she’d won Harry back, only to lose him again? But you lingered anyway, curiosity overriding your better judgment.

“I haven’t talked to Harry,” you confess preemptively, reaching for a clean cup on the counter. You don’t know why you say it, but you let it bubble up, let it happen; maybe it’s your pride wanting to continue being the bigger person.

“I know,” she replied, looking down at her drink. “He hasn’t talked to me either.” And there was something about her line that made his absence even more real.

The kitchen felt too small suddenly, the fluorescent lights harsh and unforgiving, highlighting every microexpression that crossed Leah’s face. The air thick with unspoken words and the lingering scent of spilled alcohol. The distant thump of bass from the party seemed to match the pounding of your heart as you poured yourself some water, the ice cubes clinking against the plastic cup each sound amplified in the tense silence between you.

You found yourself counting the tiles on the counter, studying the abandoned red cups scattered around, buying time, wondering how quickly you could make an exit without seeming rude. 

Not that you owed her politeness.

“I fucked up,” she blurted out, her eyes glassy with unshed tears, and you hope she doesn’t turn into one of those annoying drunk girls that need you to comfort them in moments of self-induced distress. “I really, really fucked up.”

You took a sip of water, unsure what to say. This wasn’t a conversation you’d ever imagined having, a chance you never knew you wanted because, in that moment, you could finally tell that bitch off, make her feel as shitty as you feel now as you hold her gaze. Her tragic, sad eyes staring back at you, and you hate that you want to hear her out.

“He was so good, and I fucked it up,” she continued, her words tumbling out faster now. “Four years, and I threw it away because I was jealous. And then I came back even more jealous and ruined what you two had because I thought... I don’t know what I thought.”

“Leah—”

“No, please. Let me say this.” She set her drink down with too much force, liquid sloshing over the rim. “I was a bad person. I cheated on him, did you know that? That’s why we broke up the first time.”

You already knew that part. Harry had told you when you first started dating, though he’d spared you the details. Still, something twisted in your chest, hearing her say it so casually.

“We only had sex once, you know. The whole time, we were back together.” Her laugh was hollow. “Isn’t that pathetic? We couldn’t even connect in the one way we were best at. He couldn’t look at me the same...I could see it...feel it.”

Every new detail felt like a blow, the subconscious thoughts you already knew, and as you leaned against the counter, feeling strangely detached from the situation, you realized that you had let it go, that maybe you were further from the pain than you had remembered, but it was bittersweet, and still, a year of your life was gone because she’d decided she wanted another chance. And now here she was, confessing to you of all people.

“I knew it wouldn’t work,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “Deep down, I knew. But I had to try because... because I was scared of losing him forever. And now I have anyway.”

There was a beat of silence stretching between you and outside, someone laughed loudly, music pulsing, and funny enough, life still went on, and here you were in a strange holding pattern that the universe had put you in, standing alone in a kitchen with the girl that just upended your life.

“You know what the worst part is?” she finally spoke up, not waiting for your response. “He looked at you the way he used to look at me. When we were at our best.”

And this was the part you hated because something inside you had softened, just a fraction. Not forgiveness, not yet, but understanding, perhaps. You’d both loved the same person in different ways at different times, and that realization had to hurt because it hurt you knowing that you still loved him.

And so did she.

“People make mistakes, Leah,” you said graciously, surprising you both with the gentleness in your tone. “The question is what you do after.”

She looked up at you, mascara smudged beneath her eyes. “How are you not screaming at me right now?”

You shrugged. “Wouldn’t change anything...and I don’t think I have the energy anymore.”

“I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“No, you don’t,” you agreed. “But beating yourself up forever isn’t going to fix anything either.”

She nodded slowly, considering your words.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person, Leah, but you don’t have to hurt the people you love to figure out who you are as a person.” you continued, finding wisdom you didn’t know you were willing to give. “Maybe you should start by forgiving yourself. Trust me. My forgiveness won’t exalt you from the shit you’ve done. Make different choices. Better ones.”

“Just like that?”

“No, not just like that. It takes work. Everyday, it’s work. But it starts, right? Like making different decisions.”

She wiped her eyes again, smearing her makeup further. “Why do you even care?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Because I care about Harry and because I’m realizing that holding onto anger is exhausting… because maybe we both need to move on.”

Leah took a deep breath, like all the information was too heavy, “Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”

You finished your water and set the cup in the sink. “I think I’m going to go...”

As you turned to leave, she called after you. “I know it’s shitty to ask…but like, are you... are you okay? After everything?”

You let out a dry laugh then, pausing at the door, surprisingly considering the question because Leah didn’t seem like the type to care, but maybe there had been growth. “I’m getting there,” you answered honestly. “Maybe one day at a time.”

And for the first time, the words felt true.

 Then came the longing all over again. 

You slipping into a drunken oblivion.

Slipping into the depth in which the longing would unfold because here’s the reality of moving on, what time will reveal, what your heart endures in those quiet moments between heartbeats. 

The distance that exists becomes a peculiar kind of waiting—one filled with both hope and hesitation. It’s the space we inhabit after loving someone deeply and letting them go in hopes that they’ll heal, and then we find ourselves standing at the threshold of possibility, wondering if they might return to our lives again.

Time passes differently in this liminal space. Days stretch into weeks, weeks into months, each carrying the weight of all the unspoken words and memories that refuse to fade. You find yourself caught in this silent dance of restraint, knowing that the healing takes time, that it cannot be rushed, yet there’s always this feeling, that persistent tug of longing that whispers, “Is it time yet?”

The decision to give someone space is never made lightly. It comes from a place of profound care—it’s hard to recognize that sometimes love means taking a step back, allowing their wounds to close without your constant presence reopening them.

You tell yourself this separation is necessary, that maybe it’s temporary, an act of compassion rather than abandonment. Yet in the stillness that follows, doubt creeps in like evening shadows, lengthening with each passing day, the dark a constant reminder.

You wonder if they think of you in those quiet moments, in the times you would be the one filling that empty space next to them. You wonder if the memories that visited you in dreams also visit them. You wonder if the healing is even happening at all or if the distance is simply becoming an endless state of their absence, of yours, a new normal neither of you intended.

And dammit.

The pain, that particular ache that comes with loving someone from afar—knowing the curve of their smile, the sound of their laughter, the warmth of their embrace, yet being unable to reach for these comforts. You carry them with you in fragments: a song they loved playing in the shuffle of an old playlist you finally felt strong enough to listen to again, a phrase they used that somehow finds its way into your vocabulary, now permanent like it had been there all along, that shared joke that makes you smile when you least expect it, that you knew only they would get.

And time presses on.

The real pain is that the world will continue its relentless forward motion. You’ll build routines that no longer include them. You learn to navigate conversations without mentioning their name.

You become adept at redirecting thoughts when they wander down the familiar path toward the memories you’re trying not to disturb. Yet beneath this carefully constructed normalcy runs an undercurrent of awareness—they are still there, somewhere, living a life parallel to yours.

And then comes the moment when waiting feels heavier than moving. When the desire to reach out overwhelms the fear of disrupting their healing process. When you begin to wonder if perhaps your absence has become its own kind of burden rather than the gift you intended it to be.

Then comes the most delicate moment of all—the shift from giving space to seeking reconnection. Of course, there are no guidelines for this crossing, no maps to follow, though. Only the compass of your own heart blindly pointing you toward what feels both terrifying and necessary.

Perhaps it begins with something small—a message that asks a simple question, or in your case, a drunken call that acknowledges the time that has passed, the space that was given, the hope that remains. Maybe it carries no expectations, only an opening, a possibility, opening the door for fear to flood back in.

And it’s dangerous.

Because what follows is unknown territory. All the unanswered questions are still at the forefront, but maybe they sound a little different, like what if they healed in ways that no longer include you? What if they may have been waiting, unsure of when or how to bridge the gap? What if they still need more time?

But in the act of reaching out, something pivots. The limbo of waiting transforms into the vulnerability of trying. And in that transformation lies a different kind of love—one that has weathered the absence, one that understands that some connections, despite time and distance, remain essential to who we are and who we might become together again.

The streetlights blurred as you stumbled down the sidewalk, your footfalls stumbling unevenly against the concrete. Two shots of tequila had turned to four, plus whatever was in those red cups they’d passed around.

The bass from that stupid house party still pulsed in your ears as you left the crowd of sweaty bodies behind. Somewhere between that chaotic living room and this familiar street, you’d convinced yourself this was a good idea. Your phone showed 11:47 PM—late enough to be inappropriate, early enough that he’d still be awake.

Harry’s house looked exactly the same. The porch light cast a warm glow over the steps you’d climbed countless times before. Before he’d said those words. Before the dreaded “It’s not you, it’s me” had shattered everything.

You pressed the doorbell, leaning against the frame to steady yourself. Your heart now the beat pounding in your ears, your alcohol-induced courage beginning to waver. Three nights ago, you’d called him at 2 AM, leaving a fucking voice mail, words slurring as you told him everything you’d been holding back. Then you’d ignored every call he’d made since.

The door swung open. Harry stood there in gray sweatpants and a faded t-shirt, his dark hair mussed as if he’d been running his hands through it. His eyes widened.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice low and careful.

You pushed past him into the familiar warmth of his home. “You called. I came. Just took me a while.”

The door closed behind you with a soft click, clicking your plan in motion, the sound the final decision being made. You blinked hard, trying to bring the room into focus. The familiar space seemed to sway and shift, the edges of furniture blurring like watercolors. Posters on the wall—Harry’s face among them—doubled and merged as you squinted. You steadied yourself near the closest wall, your hand landing on his entry table, knocking a small ceramic dish that spun in lazy circles before settling.

The room felt both smaller and larger than you remembered, distances impossible to judge as you wobbled slightly on your feet. The golden glow from the lamp cast long shadows that seemed to move of their own accord. Everything felt too bright, too sharp, and too soft all at once—the tequila transforming Harry’s living room into something dreamlike and surreal.

“You’re drunk,” he said, not a question but a statement.

“I wish you were this observant when we were together.” You muttered with a sarcastic tongue, kicking off your shoes and feeling the cool hardwood beneath your feet. His home smelled the same—sandalwood and whatever his roommate cooked for dinner, but somehow, it smelled like him, like a memory.

“Let me get you some water.” Harry moved toward the kitchen, but you caught his wrist.

“I didn’t come here for water.”

His pulse jumped beneath your fingers. You could feel it, that rapid flutter that told you more than his carefully composed expression. He’d always been good at hiding his feelings, except from you. You knew his tells more than you like to believe, and this pained you. 

That familiar look on his face.

“Did you mean to come here,” he said, but he didn’t pull away.

“Probably not. I don’t know—I think—” You stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. “But I’ve spent three months doing what I should. Tonight I’m doing what I want.”

His eyes darkened, pupils dilating as you moved closer. “And what’s that?”

Instead of answering, you pressed your mouth to his. For one terrible moment, he stiffened, unresponsive, and the lingering doubt crashed through you. Then his hands were in your hair, and he was kissing you back with a hunger that matched your own.

The months apart vanished as your body remembered his—the firm press of his chest against yours, the way his hands spanned your waist, how perfectly you fit together. You backed him against the wall, your fingers sliding beneath his t-shirt to find his warm skin.

“We shouldn’t,” he murmured against your mouth, even as his hands slid down to cup your hips.

“Stop thinking,” you whispered, nipping at his lower lip. “Don’t fucking think—Just feel—I just want to feel”

His shirt came off in one fluid motion, revealing the body you’d dreamed about for months. The broad shoulders, the lean muscle, the scattered tattoos you knew by heart—That fucking butterfly at the center of his chest, the others straying across his body.

Your fingers traced the familiar ink, each design holding memories of nights when you’d asked about their stories, and you traced a line down the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath his sweatpants, drawing your eyes downward, and then you ran your hands over his chest, relearning every plane and contour. His skin was hot beneath your palms, his heartbeat a rapid drum.

Harry hesitated when your fingers found the drawstring of his sweatpants. “You’re drunk,” he repeated, his voice strained. “I don’t want you to regret this.”

“The only thing I regret is waiting this long.” And you pressed your lips to his neck, feeling his pulse race beneath your tongue. “I’ve missed you. Missed this. Missed us.”

His resolve was beginning to crumble; you could feel it in the way his hands tightened on your hips, in the shallow rhythm of his breathing. When you pressed against him, you felt his dick, hard and insistent against your stomach.

“Tell me to stop,” you challenged, your fingers hovering at his waistband. “Tell me you don’t want this.” 

Instead of answering, he kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against yours. His hands found the zipper of your jeans, drawing it down with agonizing slowness, then you pushed them down until the denim pooled at your feet, and you stepped out, leaving you in nothing but your underwear and t-shirt.

Heat pulsed between your thighs, a rapid pulse that matched your racing heartbeat. Your body remembered him—every touch, every kiss—and responded with a flood of desire that left you aching and desperate. The thin cotton between your legs was already damp, your skin hypersensitive, every nerve ending alive with anticipation, and you pressed your thighs together, seeking even the slightest relief from the throbbing need that had built inside you since the moment he opened the door.

“God—baby—,” he breathed, his hand moving between your legs with undisguised longing. “I’ve missed you so much...” His fingers slipped into your underwear, finding you slick and ready. You gasped as he stroked along your folds, teasing at first, before sliding one finger inside, and your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more. 

He knew exactly how to touch you—the perfect pressure, the perfect speed. Then he was adding a second finger, curling them to hit that spot inside that made your knees weak, and you clutched at his shoulders to stay upright. His thumb circled your clit in deliberate motions that had you panting against his neck.

The dual sensation was overwhelming, pleasure spiraling outward from his skilled touch. You were close already, embarrassingly so, your body responding to him as if no time had passed at all.

The pleasure from his touch made your head swim, alcohol and arousal creating a heady cocktail that left you breathless and unsteady. You leaned into him, your forehead pressing against his shoulder as waves of sensation crashed through you.

The room tilted pleasantly, and you welcomed the dizziness, letting it heighten every touch, every sensation. His fingers slowed their pace, drawing out your pleasure until you couldn’t stand it anymore. With a frustrated groan, you reached between you, determined to make him feel as desperate as you did.

You worked at the drawstring of his sweatpants, your fingers clumsy with lust and longing. Even before the fabric fell away, you felt the hard outline of him pressing against your palm through the cotton, dense and ready.

The heat of him emanating through the thin material, making your mouth go dry with anticipation. When you finally pushed them down his hips, you were reminded of what you’d been missing. He was impressive, intimidatingly so, needy, and demanding with a craving only you could curve.

For a second, you just stared, mesmerized by the sight of him, remembering the perfect fullness, the delicious stretch, the way he’d hit exactly the right spots inside you, your orgasm never out of reach.

Your body responded with a rush of heat, a physical memory of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, that throbbing turning into a dull ache the longer it took for him to be inside you. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice rough with restraint.

In answer, you wrapped your hand around his stiff dick, feeling him pulse against your palm. His sharp intake of breath was all the encouragement you needed. You stroked him slowly, watching Harry’s face as pleasure overtook his features.

And then you both were stumbling to the bedroom, an entanglement of limbs and desperate touches. The familiar scent of his sheets enveloped you as he laid you down, his body covering yours. Suddenly, the weight of him was entrancing, grounding you when everything else felt like it was spinning.

Harry’s mouth traced a path down your neck, across your collarbone, to the swell of your breasts. When his lips closed around your nipple, you arched off the bed, a gasp escaping you. He remembered exactly how to touch you, where to kiss, how much pressure to apply. It was as if no time had passed at all.

“I’ve thought about this every night,” he confessed against your skin. “About you. About us.”

“Show me,” you demanded, pulling him back up to kiss that fucking mouth of his even needier. Then he was lining his cock with your entrance, and all you could do was stare into those green eyes, ready for the fall.

When he finally pushed into you, the sensation rushed through all your senses as a loud moan flew out of your mouth, but Harry was quick to stifle the sound when his mouth moved to yours.

The feeling of him was distant yet familiar as your body yielded to his huge dick, the delicious ache pushing another moan into his mouth. Each inch of him stretched you open, your slick walls gripping him tighter as if your body were desperate to pull him deeper.

The fullness was captivating—a sensory overload yet somehow not enough, your inner walls fluttering around his thick length as he slowly buried himself inside you completely. 

You wanted more.

More of the feeling you couldn’t put words to. 

Because it was this.

 You and him.

No more space between you.

There was a feeling of completeness to your bodies being joined again after all that time apart. It was dizzying, your body remembering exactly how perfectly you fit together despite the months of separation—it was almost too much, and you felt it, the sob caught in your throat, not entirely from pleasure. It snuck up on you even through the drunk haze, and a painful moment of clarity struck you.

This wasn’t just physical; it was the crushing weight of everything you’d lost, everything you might never recapture. Tears pricked behind your closed eyelids as he began to move, and you clutched at his shoulders. Your hold was strong as if he would leave, your nails digging into his skin, anchoring yourself to the present when memories threatened to drown you. The slow friction kindled pleasure that mingled with an ache so deep it felt carved into your bones—the bittersweet agony of finding home in someone who had once walked away.

Each thrust was deliberate, measured, as if he was savoring every second, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, faster, it was like the months of longing culminated in this moment—your bodies moving together in flawless synchrony, finding the cadence you’d perfected long ago.

“I missed you,” you choked against his mouth. “So much.”

And as he looked into your eyes, he pushed deeper, harder, his movements becoming more acute as his hand slipped between you, finding the center of your pleasure with unerring accuracy. Your impending orgasm was a slow burn as stars bloomed behind your eyes, and you felt the tug of tension coiling tighter and tighter in your lower belly.

“Let go,” he urged, his voice strained with his own approaching release. “I’ve got you.”

And that’s all you needed because it was exactly what you wanted to hear. You wanted to let go, you wanted to fall like you fell before, you wanted him, you wanted this.

Your climax crashed over you in waves, flooding your entire body in pleasure fast, an intensity so deep that it edged on the side of pain, and you cried out his name, clinging to him as your body shuddered beneath his. Your walls gripping him so tight that it hurt.

Then Harry followed moments later, his face buried in your neck as he pulsed inside you, and for a moment, you were both motionless, still coming down from the high as Harry kissed you.

Afterward, you lay tangled together, sweat cooling on your skin. The room spun slightly, the alcohol finally catching up, creating a lazy stupor that was threatening to sweep you under. Your limbs felt impossibly heavy, the last of your energy completely spent.

The combination of tequila, emotions, and physical release had drained you entirely. You fought to keep your eyes open, but they betrayed you, fluttering closed despite your efforts. Harry’s fingers traced sluggish patterns on your back, each gentle stroke lulling you further toward unconsciousness.

Your breathing slowed as sleep pulled at you insistently. The day’s sentiments, the party, the walk to his house, and finally, the reunion of your bodies—it had all taken everything you had to give.

“We should talk,” he murmured against your hair.

“Tomorrow,” you groggily promised, already drifting toward sleep. “We’ll talk tomorrow...”

The last thing you remembered was the press of his lips against your shoulder, and the solid warmth of his body curled protectively around yours.

And then came the morning, the reality of it all. 

Morning came with harsh sunlight and a pounding headache. You blinked awake, disoriented by the familiar yet strange surroundings. Harry’s bedroom. Harry’s bed. But no, Harry.

You sat up slowly, wincing as your head protested the movement. Fragments of the night before flashed through your mind—showing up at his door, kissing him, the feel of his body against yours. But the details were hazy, blurred by alcohol and desire.

The bedroom door opened, and Harry appeared with a glass of water and aspirin. His expression was unreadable as he handed them to you.

“How much do you remember?” he asked quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You swallowed the pills, buying time. “Enough,” you finally said. “Enough to know I owe you an explanation. And probably an apology.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “You have nothing to apologize about. I’m the reason we’re here...” and Harry waves his hands in the air, “You know...the distance.”

You sit up then, clutching the sheet to your body, full-circle, you thought, you laying there naked again, Harry looking over at you with those sad eyes you had seen so many times.

“I trusted you.” You start, “I thought I didn’t need a label for what we were...like I thought it was just you and me. I wasn’t seeing other people—”

“We never talked about it—I don’t know why we never talked about it,” You finish.

Harry stares down at his hands, “I know...I didn’t think we needed to.”

“I guess I didn’t picture anything happening...like maybe we would just end up being together. Like what we were.”

“And what were we, Harry? Was that just like casual for you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “No—” he answers without pause, “None of it was casual.”

The thing about it is that you believe him, but it doesn’t change the outcome, and now you don’t know what to say, “She messaged me after that party. That first time. When we saw her—”

You cut him off, “I know—I saw it—I accidentally grabbed your phone off the side table that morning.” your eyes shift to the nightstand, his phone sitting there, triggering the memory all over again.

“Really?” He asks, but when your eyes meet his, he’s not mad, just curious, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

This time, you shrug your shoulders, “Because I don’t think it would have changed anything...” You tell him because it’s honest, and in your heart, you felt like it was all inevitable.

“None of it was a coincidence, Harry, I knew she was going to try...and how could I compete with you guys’ history? I don’t think there was anything I could have done. I just wish you would have been honest, maybe there would have been less pain...I don’t know. It was going to hurt anyway...”

“I’m sorry...” he whispers, reaching to stroke a thumb over your leg under the blankets, “Can I be honest now?” He asks, half laughing the question out, the first full smile you’ve seen since waking up, and it feels good, the warmth of his presence welcoming.

“Please...” You laugh out.

“This is all going to sound shitty, but I would rather just come clean about it all, okay?”

“Okay—” You answer.

“I thought back about those pictures at the wedding and how you said we looked cozy. I want to start by apologizing for going behind your back because that’s essentially what that was...I think you could look at that as cheating—”

“Harry—”

“Please—baby—let me just get it all out—”

“Okay...Okay—” you whisper, your throat burning with the effort.

“I don’t want to be that person ever again. I knew how that felt, and I still did it anyway, and I am so fucking sorry for that...and then you tried to confront me, and I shut you down like Leah used to shut me down...and I hated it. I hated the feeling. I hated that I made you cry because that’s not me, I promise—”

And all you can do is nod, the tears stinging your eyes, as you draw your lips together, trying not to say a word, “I didn’t have sex with her after the wedding. She wanted to have sex. We got really close, and if you want details, I can tell you, but I told her about us, and she got really mad, and then we got into a huge fight, and then somehow we were talking again...and honestly, it all feels like such a mind fuck. Like, I still don’t know how it even happened because I wanted to be with you, I really did—”

“I know, Harry—”

“But do you? Because I swear—” He says, bounding off the bed and falling to his knees next to you, his elbows resting on the bed.

You run a hand through his hair, caressing his cheek for a brief moment, watching tears build at the rim of his eyes, “I ran into Leah at a party. She said you guys only had sex once. I guessed that it wasn’t the wedding. I didn’t think you were the type of guy to double-dip like that...”

“I haven’t had sex with anyone else...” you follow up.

“You talked to her?” He questions, his brows knitting together.

You laughed, rolling your eyes, “She talked to me, but yeah. It was kind of good, I guess. Like maybe she needed closure, and it kind of gave me closure too, but then it made me want you even more, knowing that you weren’t talking to either one of us...and I hadn’t heard any rumors of you hooking up with anyone so I guessed that maybe you were taking time for yourself?”

“I was trying—” he whispered, tears spilling down his cheeks.

Harry nodded, “I wanted to come to you when I knew you could have me fully...no baggage this time.”

“Did I just ruin that?” You asked, brushing a thumb under his eye.

He lets out a soft laugh, pressing your hand to his face, “I feel ready...but if you need more time, I understand...I can wait...”

“Harry, I’ve been waiting...” You laugh out.

He smiles, those cute dimples dipping, “I’m in love with you...”

The words hang in the air between you, crystalline and fragile, and your breath catches in your throat. Time seems to stop as the confession washes over you—words you’ve imagined hearing countless times during lonely nights when memories of him were all you had.

The vulnerability in his voice makes your heartache, the slight tremor revealing how terrified he is of your reaction. Tears spring to your eyes, not from sadness but from the overwhelming relief of finally hearing what you’ve known in your heart all along. You reach up to trace the curve of his jaw, memorizing the feel of him beneath your fingertips as if he might disappear.

The longing that’s lived inside you these past months—that hollow, persistent ache—begins to dissolve, replaced by something warm and certain. Everything you’ve been holding back floods forward: the sleepless nights, the times you nearly called, the constant wondering if he felt the same emptiness you did.

“Harry, I fucking love you...I never stopped loving you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “Not for a single day.”

The words feel both monumental and entirely inadequate to describe the vastness of what you feel for him. But when his eyes light up, when his smile breaks across his face like dawn, you know he understands.

This vulnerable truth between you—it’s a beginning, not an ending. A promise, not just of passion, but of something deeper, something lasting. Whatever happened before, whatever mistakes were made, you both know this is where you belong.

That this is where you both truly begin.

Taglist: @sassamanda77 @panini @unfuckwitablenarry @triski73 @haleyannaw @dipmeinhoneyh @angeldavis777 @matildasatellite @cendrineee @prettygurl-2009 @harry2121 @fangirl509east @bethiegurl19 @lizsogolden

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𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰?

𝘉𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺 𝘉𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦. 𝘉𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺， 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵．

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴， 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘺．

𝐀/𝐍: 𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦. 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺！

Growing up, you always felt a sense of detachment from those around you. Your parents were preoccupied with their own struggles, leaving you to navigate your emotions alone. As a result, you built walls around your heart, finding it easier to keep your feelings hidden rather than risk vulnerability. Friendships and relationships were challenging, as you often seemed distant and aloof. Despite your longing for connection, the fear of getting hurt kept you emotionally unavailable.

When you joined the avengers, you had a hard time connecting with the others. The first couple of weeks you were cooped up in your room keeping to yourself, often finding yourself reflecting on your past life, mirroring the experiences and emotions you once lived through. Whether it was the way you approached relationships or handled adversity, your past life served as a constant reminder and guide. This mirroring allowed you to draw strength from your history, using it as a foundation to build a better future while remaining deeply connected to your roots. Over time you slowly started to join the conversations, showed up at events, even staying for movie nights.

After years of feeling like you were constantly on edge, you finally found a sense of calm. The anxious thoughts began to quiet down, and you felt a newfound sense of control over your emotions. The once overwhelming stressors in your life seemed more manageable, and slowly you approached each day with a serene confidence, bringing a deep sense of inner peace you longed for.

That was until you met Bucky.

You truly didn’t have a problem with him, you found him almost intriguing. His cold demeanor, his attitude, his attractive features. You felt drawn to him. Until you finally drew him out. His snarky comments, his shameful teasing, the pure hatred in his eyes when you walked in the room. Lowering your walls was already hard enough to overcome, but letting in the hatred that spat from his lips wasn’t what you were expecting whatsoever.

You had always been sensitive to the harsh words and negativity thrown your way, but over time, you learned to block out his antics, keeping your calm personality you’ve built. Constantly reminding yourself of your strengths and the small acts of love received from those who truly mattered.

———

You walked into the gym, finally getting some alone time to work out in peace. Well, you thought you did.

There he was. Shirtless, lifting an overly weighted bar over his chest. You didn’t pass up the opportunity, letting your eyes travel down his toned abdomen. That didn’t last long, because as soon as your eyes met his, it felt like the air shifted completely. He was up within seconds, walking over to you. Great.

“Leave.” he practically growled.

You let out a scoff, setting your bag at one of the weight machines, “I didn’t know you owned the gym?” Your retort, your words dripping with annoyance. His eyes flash with just as much annoyance dripping in your tone. He takes a step towards you, his voice dropping an octave lower.

“I don't own the gym, but I make the rules here. And the rule is, you leave.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing spare weights placing them on the bar. Does he hear how stupid he sounds? Like actually. What kind of comeback is that? “I don’t know who you think you are, but you have no right to try and boss me around.” your tone is calm, you didn’t want him to think he can get under your skin so easily, and you surely didn’t want to provoke him. You weren’t mentally prepared for another unnecessary argument. You simply throw your headphones on, not wanting to hear any more of his ‘rules’.

You start your work out, pushing the heavy bar above your chest then slowly back down, letting your arms really feel the weight. Your music plays almost eardrum shattering loud, almost forgetting about Bucky.

Almost.

He finds himself watching how you smoothly handle the weight, his initial anger turning into something more... admiring. His usual sharp tongue stays silent for once, caught off guard by your calm defiance. Instead of chasing you out, he walks closer, deliberately trying to disturb your peaceful workout.

Pushing the bar above your chest a final time, you Finish your set. You glance up, looking into the mirror taking a double take as you see bucky standing too close for comfort. You lower your headphones, letting them fall around your neck before turning to face him. “Did you need something?” You ask, brows furrowing in confusion. You could already hear his sarcastic tone coming from a mile away.

"Need something?"

He smirks, crossing his arms over his chest, still standing uncomfortably close. "I thought I already made it clear you weren't welcome here." Despite his harsh words, there's no real malice behind them now, just pure curiosity on how you'll react.

He wanted a reaction out of you, and you refused to let him get one.

“I’m not going to argue with you.”

Bucky narrows his eyes suspiciously as you abruptly change tactics, his usual confrontation tactic failing miserably. He uncrosses his arms, unsure how to proceed without getting a reaction out of you.

"So, what? You just gonna ignore me?"

You nod at him through the mirror, hands lingering on your headphones, “That exactly.” You say, sliding your headphones back on your head, starting your next set. As you take the weighted bar in your hands, the weight feels lighter than before, almost like a weight being lifted off your shoulders. That weight in question being, Bucky.

He eventually walks away, going back to his own workout. He looks…upset? Usually the two of you would be biting eachothers heads off, but now it’s, peaceful, almost too peaceful. The rest of your workout goes smoothly, no sharp remarks, no bickering, just peace. That’s how you liked it, well you thought you did. Something in the back of your mind, was screaming at you to go and talk to him. The other part telling you to leave him alone.

You began packing your bag back up, glancing over every so often at Bucky, his expression still a frown. Maybe you were too harsh? You leave the gym, taking a final glance at Bucky, his eyes meeting yours briefly before looking away.

Bucky’s head was spiraling just as much as yours, maybe even worse. He watched you pack your bag, your quiet, care free workout making him realize how much he feeds off of the arguments. He sees you look at him multiple times, your expression unreadable. He unconsciously unclenches his jaw when you finally leave, his frown deepening. He had always struggled with expressing his feelings, just as you did. Especially when it came to the person he found himself heavily drawn too. Instead of telling you how much you meant to him, he found himself teasing and picking on you. It was his way of getting your attention, but deep down, he knew it wasn't the best approach. He admired you from afar, wishing he could find the right words to show his affection.

———

A few hours later, you found yourself rummaging through the fridge for what felt like the hundredth time. Just as you reached out to grab something, the door closes almost catching your nose. “What the fuck.” You spat out, jerking your head back.

Once again, there he was. Leaning against the counter, his muscular arms crossed over his chest, a smirk playing on his lips. "Language," he chastises lightly, his tone teasing rather than scolding. He tilts his head slightly, studying you with an unreadable expression.

You roll your eyes opening the fridge again, grabbing a pre-made caeser salad Peter picked up for you at the deli. “Do you ever get tired?” you ask, opening the salad, taking a bite.

“Of what?”

“Being a pain in my ass.” you retort, chuckling softly.

He laughs unexpectedly, throwing his head back slightly. "No," he answers simply, uncrossing his arms. He watches you eat, his smirk softening. "You know what's funny?" He adds suddenly. "You never seem to snap at me anymore." He watches your expression shift, mesmerized by your beautiful features. "You're always calm," He points out thoughtfully, his voice lower than usual. "Like nothing gets to you."

He unconsciously mirrors your action, leaning back against the counter again.

"Do you ever get mad?"

Instead of finding a healthy way to communicate, you often let her frustration and anger take over. You would lash out at those around you, even when they had done nothing wrong. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" You snapped at your friend, who was only trying to help. It was your way of coping, but it left you feeling isolated and misunderstood.

You set your fork down, suddenly losing your appetite. “Not really, you don’t get under my skin as much as you think you do.” you say, sliding the bowl towards him.

He raises an eyebrow, taking the bowl from you and sitting on the counter instead. He starts eating the salad, his mind reeling with questions. "So you're telling me that none of my jokes, or pranks, or constant bickering bothers you?" He asks incredulously.

You shake your head, leaning further against the counter. “I like to think you just like me so much, the only way you think you can talk to me is through those insults.” you reply calmly, knowing just how to get under his skin. You can see his jaw tighten slightly, though there's a flicker of amusement in his eyes at your calm confidence.

He swallows a bite hurriedly, trying to maintain his composure. "You think you've got me all figured out, don't you?

“You didn’t deny it.”

For a split second, his eyes darken with something more than his usual teasing - a mix of frustration and awareness. Then he covers it with a smirk, "Just because I don't deny something doesn't mean it's true," he says.

“Well it stands, till denied.”

He chuckles, taking another bite before speaking. "Fine, I'll deny it. I don't like you, and I only talk to you through insults because I hate your calm, annoying personality." He says, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Your lips curl into a grin, “Lying is a sin Barnes.” you retort, a full smile on your lips now.

He rolls his eyes, but he can't help the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Every time you smiled, it was as if the world around him lit up. Your smile had a way of reaching your eyes, making them sparkle with a warmth that melted his heart.

“And what about you, huh? Always so perfect and put together.” He says, his eyes trailing over your face.

A quiet scoff leaves your lips, “No one’s perfect. Fake it till you make it.” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

His eyes narrow slightly at your words, a hint of vulnerability flashing in their depths before he masks it with a scowl. "Fake it till you make it, huh? Is that what you're doing with your whole perfect act?" He challenges, his tone a bit sharper than before.

You nod, eyes focusing anywhere but his, “yeah.” you coo, softly. Your tone wasn’t as playful anymore, it’s was vulnerable, it was...real.

This obviously didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky.

His scowl deepens, his mind reeling with questions. He's crossed a line, he can tell by the way your voice has lost its usual teasing tone. He swallows hard, his eyes searching your face for any sign that you're really faking it. He can see it now - the way you won't look at him, the way your shoulders have tensed up. He's hit a nerve, and he hates that he feels a strange sense of satisfaction from it.

Before he could say anything, you jump off the counter. “Goodnight.” you say, before dissapearing to your room.

His jaw tightens as he watches you retreat, his mind racing. For the first time in a long time, he feels like an actual asshole. "Shit," he mutters to himself, running a hand through his hair. He knows he's hurt you, can feel it in his gut.

———

The sun came shining strong through your window, illuminating your face. Tossing and turning trying to avoid it, your eyes eventually flutter open taking in the light. You layed in bed longer than you usually would, finding yourself daydreaming about what it would be like to experience true love. The kind of love that made your heart race and your soul feel complete. You longed for someone who would understand you in ways no one else could, someone who would stand by your side through the highs and lows. You yearned for the gentle touch, the shared laughter, and the comforting silence that only one could bring. Finally getting up from the place you enjoyed most, you enter the kitchen pouring coffee into the mug Tony got you for Christmas. ‘Be Happy!’

How ironic.

Bucky hears the soft footsteps down the hall, his eyes watching as you enter the kitchen. He notices the dark circles under your eyes, the tight lines around your mouth.

"Morning," He grunts softly, testing the waters.

You glance over at him, a small smile tugging at your lips, “Mornin.” you coo, voice still gravely from sleep.

He nods, his eyes lingering on your face for a moment longer than necessary. He wants to say something, anything to break the tension between you two. But he's never been great with words, especially when it comes to emotional shit.

"You...uh...look tired."

A small chuckle leaves your lips, before taking a sip of the caffeinated drink. “Thanks.” you mumble, leaning against the counter. Your hair is a mess evident you just awoken, still in your pajama pants hanging low on your hips, paired with a black tank top. He looks you up and down, taking in the sleep-mussed hair, the worn-out pajamas, the way you lean against the counter. There's something about the picture that makes his chest tighten. He sets his own coffee down, moving to stand next to you.

"You okay?"

You nod mimicking his movements, “Yeah, not really a morning person.” Lie. You loved the mornings, just not particularly…this morning. Something about last night hit a nerve, shifting your whole mood. He raises an eyebrow at that, his gaze lingering on your face. He knows a lie when he sees one, and right now, you're practically screaming it. "Liar," he says bluntly, his voice low. "You love mornings. Always have."

Your eyes widen slightly, shocked he knew that. “Someone’s been paying attention, you’re only proving my point from last night.” you retort, taking a long sip of your coffee, loving the feeling of your body warming up.

He tenses at the mention of last night, his jaw clenched tight. He knows he fucked up, knows he hurt you with his careless words. "I'm sorry about last night," he says gruffly, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I was an asshole."

You simply brush it off shrugging your shoulders, “It’s fine.” you mutter. He frowns slightly at your dismissive shrug, knowing full well that 'fine' doesn't necessarily mean fine. He leans in a bit closer, trying to maintain eye contact. "It's not 'fine'. I was a prick, plain and simple. Didn't mean to make you feel like shit."

Your heart tightens at his words, an unfamiliar flutter making itself present. “It wasn’t you, just…not my day today.” You weren’t lying, although he was being a real ass last night, he wasn’t the full reason to your mood change.

He watches you closely, buying your excuse. He knows you're not a great liar - your nose wrinkles when you do it. "You hungry?" He asks instead, changing the subject. He's not an idiot, he knows there's something off about you today, but he won't push. You shake your head, setting your mug in the sink. “No, I’m gonna go shower. I’ll see you later Bucky.” You say before disappearing back to your room.

He watches you leave, a furrowed brow and a heavy heart. Something's definitely off with you, and it's bothering him more than he cares to admit. With a sigh, he turns back to the coffee maker, pouring himself another cup. He has a feeling he's going to need it.

———

An hour or so later you emerge to the living room, finding Bucky reading a book, settled comfortably on the sofa. You smile softly at him as he meets your eyes. Grabbing another caeser salad from the fridge, you open it immediately digging in. Thank god for Peter. He looks up from his book as you enter, his eyes following you as you move to the fridge. He watches as you pull out the salad, his eyebrow raising slightly. "That's the second one of those you've had in two days," he comments, setting his book aside.

You stuff another mouthful past your lips, shrugging your shoulders, “It’s so good.” you mumble, a hand coming up to cover your mouth.

He grins slightly, watching you eat. God, you're like a guy when you eat. No lady-like small bites for you. He watches your shoulders, seeing them tense up slightly. "You do this when you're stressed," he realizes softly.

“What?” You mutter.

"Eat like that."

Your eyes widen in shock once again, for someone who hates you, he sure notices a lot of small details. “Barnes if you didn’t pick with me every other day, I would think you’re in love with me” you say casually.

He almost chokes on his own saliva, shocked at your teasing tone. His face flushes slightly red, and he clears his throat roughly. "Fuck off," is his immediate response, trying to keep his voice casual, but his eyes betray him. "Just stating fact." He adds.

Your lips tug into a smirk, his response telling you everything you needed to know. “Once again, not denying it.” you retort, laughing softly.

He rolls his eyes, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. "You're delusional," he mutters, trying to play it cool. He hates that you can read him like an open book.

You coo a soft, almost sarcastic,“uh huh.” stuffing another bite of salad in your mouth. I gotta thank Peter when he gets here. Finally tossing the empty container, you make your way to the couch opening your own book to read, before putting on your headphones. The music is painfully loud, blasting John Wayne, just how you liked it.

He watches you from the corner of his eye, noticing your choice of music. Cigarettes after sex- predictable. Then again, it suits you. His jaw ticks slightly at how damn cute you look with your headphones on. Focus, idiot. You're supposed to hate her.

The song plays peacefully through your ears, the soft singing easing all your thoughts. You glance up at Bucky to find him already looking at you. offering a warm smile before returning back to reading your book.

He catches your smile, feeling his heart skip a beat and internally curses himself. Your warm smile does something to him, things he can't fucking ignore anymore. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, then abruptly stands. "I'm going for a run," he mutters, grabbing his coat.

You look up at him, a confused expression all over your face. “It’s raining…? Just wait, I’ll go with you.” you mutter, jogging to get your own coat. It’s not like you had anything better to do.

He nearly tells you to stay inside, but seeing your determined expression stops him. Instead, he tightens his jaw, trying to ignore how his heart does that stupid flutter thing again. "It's fucking pouring," he argues, partly hoping you'd change your mind. "You'll get soaked."

You roll your eyes in response as you slide your coat on, “So will you, someone has to make sure you don’t slip.”

He scoffs, but secretly smiles at your stubbornness. God, why does she have to be so- fuck, stop thinking like that. "I'm not some damsel in distress," he grumbles, stepping out into the rain.

“Sure act like one.”

He hears your whispered comment and his eyes narrow slightly. He's about to retort when he realizes the cold rain is seeping into his bones. Fucking hell. He quickens his pace, hoping to get this over with. "Just keep up," he calls back, his voice muffled by the rain.

“Yeah, yeah.” you mumble, jogging not too far behind him. You can hear his hushed ‘hurry ups’ so you quicken your pace reaching him, just as you do you miss a step almost tripping. You close your eyes preparing for the fall.

Without thinking, Bucky's hand shoots out reflexively, catching you before you face-plant onto the slick pavement. His arms instinctively wrap around you, holding you steady against him as rain pouring down both of you. He blinks, momentarily stunned by how perfectly you fit against him.

Your arms wrap around his body instinctively, the rain pouring down soaking your hair. His arms wrapped protectively around you make your heart flutter, “Thank you.” you whisper, faces inches from his.

They found themselves wrapped in each other's embrace, completely unaware of the feelings that had blossomed between them. The world around them seemed to fade away as they held on tightly, seeking warmth and comfort in each other's arms. The rain soaked through their clothes, but they didn't mind; the closeness they shared was all that mattered. They looked into each other's eyes, feeling a connection that words couldn't describe, yet neither of them realized that was love.

Bucky's breath catches in his throat, his eyes searching yours for a long moment. The rain pounds around you both, but he barely notices, captivated by your proximity. His grip on you loosens slightly, yet he doesn't pull away. "Careful," he murmurs, his voice rough. You nod, pulling away from his embrace. As soon as you do, you regretted it. His touch is warm, fitting, nearly perfect.

“We should go back, if I get sick, I’m gonna kill you.”

Bucky can't help but smirk at your words, despite the cold biting into him. He falls into step beside you as you both head back, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Yeah, yeah, blame it on me if you catch a cold,"

You snort out a laugh, placing your hands in your own pockets. “Oh I will.”

———

You prayed you didn’t get sick, really prayed. But with your luck, it was bound to happen. The next day, you woke up chest burning, and nose stuffy.

“I’m gonna kill him.” You mumble, a cough following.

Bucky on the other hand was perfectly fine, not an single thing wrong with him. He was heading to the kitchen for a snack, but stopped abruptly hearing coughing down the hall. He freezes, listening intently. "Shit," he mutters, spinning on his heels, heading towards your room. He tiptoes to your door, pushing it open slightly. As the door opens, you’re already looking at him, standing there, your face flushed red and your eyes watery from constant sniffles. Irritation written all over your face. He crosses his arms, trying to look stern. "You sound terrible," he states, his tone unintentionally softening slightly.

You shake your head, walking closer to him, “Thanks.” you mumble, pushing him aside so you can open the door. You enter the kitchen, grabbing a bottled water immediately taking a long sip.

He watches you grab a bottle of water, only to have to suppress a smirk as you stagger past him, clearly irritated. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed as he observes your attempt to hydrate dramatically.

"Feel better?"

You send him a glare, before setting the water down. “If I had the energy, I would -makes a stabbing motion- you right here.” you say, before flopping on the sofa, curling into a ball. He chuckles at the threatened gesture, finding it hard to stay annoyed at you when you're sick and grumpy like this. He sits down beside you on the sofa, turning on the TV to distract himself from your miserable presence.

"You're so dramatic when you're sick,"

You roll your eyes, if it wasn’t for his little dramatic episode you wouldn’t be sick. You reach for your headphones instead met with air, you curse softly under your breath. “Can you go to my room, and grab my headphones, please?” you coo, sweetly.

He raises an eyebrow at the sudden sweet tone, knowing full well you're buttering him up to get what you want. He gets up reluctantly, heading to your room to fetch the headphones. He returns a minute later, tossing them onto your lap. "Here," You catch them, swiftly putting them on.

“Thanks hun.”

Bucky blinks, momentarily taken aback by the endearment slipping so casually from your lips. A faint blush creeps up his neck, quickly masked by a scowl. He flops back down on the couch, stretching his legs out. "Yeah, whatever,"

You hum to the song, immediately feeling better, eyes glancing at Bucky every so often.

Ever since that day in the rain, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he held you, how he looked at you, something about it had your head spinning and you’re slowly getting dizzier and dizzier. It was in the quiet moments, the ones where words weren't needed, that you finally realized your feelings. As they sat together in comfortable silence, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace and belonging. It was the way he understood you without needing explanations, the way his presence alone could calm your restless mind. In that moment, you knew that what you felt went beyond friendship or admiration—it was love.

As you continue to glance at him, Bucky starts to notice. He catches your gaze a few times, furrowing his brow in confusion. After a while, he reaches out and gently removes your headphones, setting them aside. "Hey, you okay? You look kinda pale."

You nod, despite the uneasy feeling in your stomach. Maybe it wasn’t just your head getting dizzy…you rush to the bathroom, throwing up everything but those damn feelings. A few minutes later, you returned back to the living room, flopping on the couch. He watches you rush to the bathroom and return looking worse than before. He sits up straight, his brows furrowing in concern. "You're still sick," he states the obvious, reaching for the remote to pause the TV.

You groan, looking up at him. “No shit, captain obvious.” you retort.

He ignores the sarcastic remark, his mind more focused on the fact that you look worse by the minute. He gets up, standing over you. "You need to drink more," he insists, heading to the kitchen to grab another bottle of water. For the first time, you comply sitting up against the sofa. You take the water bottle from his hands, taking slow sips.

“Thank you.”

He freezes slightly at your genuine 'thank you'. He's so used to your snarky remarks that this catches him off guard. He watches you carefully, noting the dark circles under your eyes and your faded complexion. "You hungry?" He asks softly. "Like, actual food?"

You nod, another unfamiliar flutter in your chest. You’ve must of got it bad, the sickness is affecting your heart. Right?

He nods, pleased with your response. It's a small victory, but he'll take it. He heads to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge. After a moment, he emerges with a bowl of soup and some crackers. "Chicken noodle, okay?" Your eyes light up, the warm soup clouding your senses. “I think you’re going soft on me Bucky.” you say, your words dripping with sarcasm. You raise the spoon full of warm broth to your lips, quietly sipping it. Your body immediately relaxing.

He rolls his eyes at your teasing remark, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Don't get used to it," he mutters, watching you sip the soup. Seeing you relax, even slightly, brings an unexpected warmth to his chest. "It's just soup."

It’s more than just soup, the thoughtfulness behind it warming your heart, he’ll never truly know how much this meant to you. You eat slower than usual, savoring the broth, the taste making you feel all cozy inside. As you eat, Bucky settles back onto the couch, his gaze lingering on you. He tells himself it's just because he's making sure you eat, nothing more.

You glance at Bucky catching his baby blues staring, you squint your eyes at him, “Do I have something on my face?” you say, as he practically stares into your soul, it’s kind of sweet actually.

He quickly looks away, running a hand through his hair. "No... just making sure you're actually eating." He tries to play it cool, but his eyes keep drifting back to you. "You're usually not this quiet." He adds, trying to break the unusual silence.

Heat rushes to your cheeks at his words, since when did he care? And why is it making you feel all warm inside. Are you gonna die? “I’m usually not sick, but thanks to somebody.” you mumble playfully.

His smirk returns at your mumbling, he can't help but feel a strange warmth at the fact that you're blaming him for your sickness. "Yeah, yeah, blame the guy taking care of you." He teases back, leaning against the armrest. You smile softly, picking the almost empty bowl up in your hands, placing it in the kitchen. As you return you grab the remote out of Buckys grasp, changing it to a rom com.

Sick days equal Romantic Comedy’s. I don’t make the rules.

Bucky's eyes widen in surprise as you take the remote and change the channel. He watches as a cheesy rom-com starts playing, his initial annoyance quickly turning into a soft smile. "Seriously?" He asks, his voice a little quieter than usual. “Yup.” you reply, popping the ‘P’ dramatically before taking your seat next to Bucky on the sofa, trying to siphon his warmth.

Bucky shifts slightly as you snuggle up next to him, trying to ignore the sudden surge of warmth flooding through him. He clears his throat, looking away from the mushy scenes unfolding on screen. "You do realize these movies are all lies, right?"

You gasp turning to look at him, “Not cool Barnes, they’re real to me.”

He chuckles, his arm instinctively draping behind your body, resting on the sofa. "Oh, come on. You can't seriously believe in all that sappy love stuff, do you?" He asks, his voice a little softer as he looks down at you. You meet his gaze, pondering for a moment. You’ve never really seen it first hand, but you like to believe you’ll experience it one day. Cuddling, romantic dinners, taking care of eachother when you’re sick…kisses, chocolates for Valentine’s Day. You wanted all that sappy love stuff. “I do.” you say almost too soft.

His expression softens slightly as he looks at you, seeing the dreamy look in your eyes. He swallows hard, pushing down the strange feeling in his chest. "You really believe in all that stuff? The grand gestures, the love at first sight, the happily ever after?"

You nod, “I never got see that sorta thing growing up, always made me wanna experience it.” you admit, feeling a bit too vulnerable around him.

Something inside him shifts at your vulnerability, the way you talk about something you've never even had. He suddenly feels a strong urge to protect you from every hurt in the world. He really needed to get it together. "What kind of fucked up place did you grow up in that you didn't even see people in love?"

“My home.”

You sat quietly in the corner, watching as your parents argued yet again. The harsh words and raised voices filled the room, creating an atmosphere thick with tension. You longed to see them show the love they once had for each other, to witness a simple hug or a gentle kiss. Instead, they avoided each other's gaze, their interactions cold and distant. It broke your heart to see the people who were supposed to be her role models in love and unity drift further apart with each passing day. You wished they could remember the warmth and affection they once shared, instead of letting anger and resentment take over.

His expression immediately turns serious, voice dropping to a gentle rumble as he realizes he struck a nerve. "Hey..." He shifts slightly, tilting your chin up so you meet his eyes. The concern in his gaze is stark. "Bad enough you're sick. Stop giving me those sad eyes, doll.” A weak laugh slips from your lips, soaking in the comfort of his hand resting on your chin comfortably.

His thumb caresses your jaw unconsciously. He realizes how soft your skin is, how small your face is compared to his large palm. "So, wait..." He hesitates, trying to word his question carefully. "No one ever showed you what real love was?" He asks softly.

You shake your head, “It’s not just that, my parents never really showed their love for eachother. They didn’t kiss, hug, hell…they barely even talked to eachother. It affected me heavily growing up, I couldn’t even stay in a relationship. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the person I was with, I just didn’t know how to show them.” The confession was enough to fully break the walls you’ve built, it hurt. In another sense you felt relieved, relieved you could finally open up to somebody. To tell them what you were feeling without being afraid how they’ll react.

His heart clenches painfully at your words, a fierce protectiveness rising inside him. No wonder you're so closed off. No one ever showed you what love could be. He wants to be the one to show you, to break through those walls you've built up. What if he was.

"That's..."

You cut him off with your own words, “Fucked up. I know.” you mutter, focusing back on the movie.

Bucky watches you for a long moment, the soft glow of the TV illuminating your profile. He realizes then, more than ever, how much you need those cheesy rom-coms. They're not just entertainment—they're a glimpse into the kind of love you've never known.

"Hey..."

He looks at you intently, his voice soft but firm. "You deserve better than what you've had. You deserve someone who'll make you laugh, who'll hold you when you're sick, who'll kiss you just because." You deserved him. The man who makes you laugh no matter what mood you’re in, the man who’s currently holding you while you’re sick, the man you wished lips were on yours instead of talking.

“You check off three of those boxes.”

His breath hitches at your words, his heart racing in his chest. He looks at you, really looks at you, and sees the vulnerability in your eyes, the longing. Without thinking, he leans in, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "And the fourth?"

Your breath catches in your throat, your free hand subconsciously moving to his jaw. “Hasn’t been checked off yet.” you whisper, leaning in just enough to feel his breath against your lips. His eyes flick down to your lips, his own parting slightly. He can feel your warm breath mixing with his, can see the way your pupils dilate. Slowly, giving you every opportunity to pull back, he closes the distance between you.

"Let me check it off for you."

You had spent years keeping your emotions locked away, convinced that love was something you could never truly have. But in that moment, love came into your life, patient and kind, completely breaking down the walls you had built around your heart. For the first time, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable, realizing that you had finally found the love you had yearned for.

[deathbxnny]

Ooh ooh i love your headcanons, would it be possible if i request some headcanons of Capitano, Baizhu and Childe with a Jingliu!Reader please?

Genshin men with a Jingliu!Gn!Reader. | Capitano, Baizhu, Childe

Here you go, Anon!!<3

Content: Angst, Reader is a bit unhinged, battles, established romantic relationships, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》CAPITANO

He knew you from way before your nation fell. You were a legend. A well-known and respected warrior who carried themselves with pride at all times. Your blade never rusted nor dulled. You were strong. And he looked up to you for as long as he could remember you.

But alas, the curse had even gotten to you. It didn't rot you from the inside out but instead corroded your mind permanently. Nothing you did was as clean or precise anymore. You were unpredictable and near unhinged at times, your bloodlust a tragic insult to your previous legacy as you yearned for battle. He entertained you in such moments often, just to keep you from hurting others.

Your memories have faded even for him, but that doesn't mean that he isn't willing to remind you of anything you want to know when asked. He's patient and calm, knowing that deep down, you were still stuck in a never-ending battle, but this time against yourself.

Since there is no cure for either of you, you've become content in eachothers company. You are kind and soft whenever you aren't lusting for death and carnage, so life isn't all too terrible. You lead troops at his side and train them to perfection naturally.

Capitano is thankful for every moment you decide to spend at his side, as that way, he still at least has one good thing going for him in this cruel world.

》BAIZHU

He met you in terrible condition, as you were suffering from severe side effects from your condition. It took him a while to figure out how to heal you the best he could and eventually settled on simply blindfolding you to alleviate the pain and sudden outbursts from you. You didn't leave after you got back onto your feet and stayed at his side ever since.

You made his life a lot brighter and warmer than it previously was. You were kind and patient with his condition, even visibly concerned for him on days when he could barely stand. You both know that his end was near, yet yours would eventually come too. In a way, you both found yourselves to be equals in that sense, which made your bond grow stronger.

Your bloodlust and need for battle make you very unpredictable and even dangerous at times, but he has learned how to deal with it perfectly over time. He's in fact the only one that can make you snap out of it when needed.

With that said, neither you nor Qiqi are permitted to run around Liyue alone together. One of you would always forget what you even went out for to begin with, whilst the other would ponder about life philosophies and completely derail your quest of getting the thing you were even sent out for. It was a mess every time, and he decided that the chaos was just not worth it...

》CHILDE

You had met during one of your unpredictable outbursts. A violent battle ensued, and by the end of it, he felt a connection to you that left him breathless. He could tell that you were a warrior, a very skilled one. And so, he stuck by your side ever since, never letting you shake him off until you've accepted his place at your side.

He's perhaps the best person to end up with due to your need for battle and blood. Your outbursts are handled with concerning ease every time, as he enjoys the thrill of it. He loves the way you don't hold back, never the one to acknowledge that you truly didn't have control over it to begin with.

Childe begs you to train with him and to teach him everything you know. He's very much obsessed and doesn't hide it either, to say the least. Daily hard-core workout sessions that last far into the night are definitely the norm for you both... but what he begins to eventually enjoy the most is how kindly and lovingly you treat him afterward. Your patience and gentle self were deeply appreciated by him.

He brags about you to everyone and everything that his ears, his family, friends, and colleagues become near sick of him by the end of it. But he is just so thankful to have you and wants to make sure you know this.

[shigiaki]

Not My Girlfriend

Sasuke!xReader / Fakedating!cheating

Enjoy<3

You were dating Naruto, the popular kid known for his delinquent behavior and outgoing personality. Teachers either loved him or hated his guts. His family was influential and well-known, making him even more prominent in school.

Unlike him, you weren’t part of the rich kids' clique. Your best friend, Ino, quickly took a liking to your kind and funny nature. She loved having you around since her other close friends were both boys—having another girl in her life made her feel understood.

You and Naruto had been dating for over a year, and you got along effortlessly. Your friends and his quickly became acquainted, making it easier for everyone to connect.

You fell for him fast. He was an idiot but a lovable one—funny, kind, and gentle, even if he wasn’t exactly the smartest when it came to relationships. Things were great. Dating him and being part of the popular crowd had its perks. But little did you know, it wouldn’t last.

Naruto started acting strange and distant, and you had no idea why. You kept asking if something was wrong—maybe he and his best friend had fought again—but he only made dumb excuses. You brushed it off, hoping he’d come to his senses, but things only got worse.

He became secretive with his phone, quickly turning it off when you were around. He even added a passcode. That wouldn’t have been a big deal—most people had one—but he refused to tell you what it was, which felt odd. His replies to your messages became more and more delayed, and in big groups, he barely spoke to you anymore. He was always out, doing God knows what.

He also grew less affectionate. Whenever you tried to take the initiative, he’d brush you off, saying he wasn’t in the mood or was too tired.

Something was definitely wrong.

After almost two months of this, you couldn’t ignore Naruto’s behavior anymore. Your friends started noticing too, even asking if you two had broken up—which you denied.

Finally, you decided enough was enough. While Naruto was napping, you made up your mind to go through his phone. Carefully, you sneaked it from his side as he slept in your bed and slipped into the bathroom as quietly as possible.

Luckily, he had fallen asleep while watching a show, so his phone was still unlocked. Your heart pounded as you scrolled through his messages—everything seemed normal at first. But then, you checked his camera roll and his saved snaps.

Your stomach dropped.

There were countless pictures of him with some girl. You couldn’t tell who she was, but the way they were together in those photos told you everything you needed to know.

For days, you felt lost, unsure of what to do. You considered breaking up with him, thinking it might end the pain and heartbreak. But alongside the sadness, there was anger—a deep sense of betrayal. You wanted him to feel the hurt he had caused you. It wasn’t just your emotions at stake, Sasuke’s feelings were tangled in this as well. In the end, you made up your mind—tomorrow, you would confess everything and tell him the truth.

You had slipped a letter into his locker, asking him to meet you on the rooftop after school, but you hadn’t signed your name. The entire day, you found yourself muttering under your breath, overthinking every possible scenario, and doing your best to avoid looking at him in class, pretending everything was normal.

But then, your eyes met Sasuke’s by accident. His gaze was sharp, almost as if he could see right through you. It was impossible not to feel intimidated.

Sai and Ino watched you with concern, convinced you had completely lost your mind.

As the final bell approached, students began packing up, eager to leave. You, on the other hand, took your time, slowly gathering your things, stalling for as long as you could.

"girl hurry up!" Ino rushed you as Sasuke passed them exiting the room, "I have to talk to the teachers about something," you lied, Ino looked confused but didn't pry, "alright see you tomorrow" she said sighing before leaving with Sai.

After a minute or two, you began making your way to the rooftop. They don’t tend to lock these doors until all the other students have left, as some have clubs or are on cleaning duty. You reached the door, taking a deep breath before opening it.

There he stood, his face turned toward the view. He finally turned upon hearing footsteps behind him. He wasn’t surprised it was you—almost as if he already knew you were the one who wrote it. You, on the other hand, were surprised he even showed up.

He stared down at you, making you feel extremely nervous. You cleared your throat before speaking.

"I have something to tell you," you said in a serious tone. He frowned, annoyed. "What is it?" You take a deep breath before speaking again.

"Sakura is cheating on you." He frowns, clearly annoyed. "Yeah, right," he scoffs. My hands clench into fists. "With Naruto," I say, my expression darkening with frustration.

He steps closer to me, his expression shifting from annoyance to disbelief. "What?" he says, almost like a question, as if he didn’t fully process my words.

I take a shaky breath, my frustration boiling over. "Both of us are getting cheated on by our own partners—with each other," I say, louder this time, needing him to hear, to understand.

His jaw tightens, his hands clenching at his sides. For a moment, he just stares at me, searching my face for any sign that I might be lying. But I’m not.

The silence between us is thick, filled with tension and unspoken emotions. "You're serious?" he finally asks, his voice quieter now, but laced with something dangerous, anger, betrayal, maybe even pain.

I nod, my throat tight. "I wouldn’t lie about something like this."

His eyes darken, and I see the moment the realization settles in. He turns away, running a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "That bastard," he mutters under his breath.

I cross my arms, biting my lip. "That makes two of them." I sigh. "What are you going to do?"

Sasuke's body tenses even more at the question. He hesitates, his voice cold when he finally speaks."That's none of your business."His grip tightens around the edge of the rooftop, his knuckles turning white. He's barely restraining himself, his entire body coiled with the urge to storm off and confront Sakura right now.

"Don't act rashly," I begin, my voice firm yet uncertain.

"Too late. I'll kill them both." He mutters darkly. Unknowingly, he releases a wave of killing intent, the air around us growing heavy. Jealousy, rage, and betrayal swirl inside him, fueling the fire burning in his chest. His mind races, the same words echoing over and over.

"Then let’s cheat on them back."

The words leave my lips before I can stop them, bold and reckless. The air between us crackles with tension, and for a moment, he just stares, his expression unreadable.

He freezes. His dark eyes snap to my face. He must have misheard, right? He swallows hard, his jaw tightening. When he finally speaks, his voice is dangerously low, each word slow and deliberate—like a knife pressing against my skin.

"What did you just say?"I flinch instinctively, fear prickling down my spine—but I don’t back down. I meet his glare, my own emotions bubbling to the surface.

His body tenses, coiled like a snake ready to strike.

I step closer, ignoring the way my instincts scream at me to run. My heart pounds, but I force myself to meet his gaze, refusing to back down.

"Let's get together and cheat on them." My voice is steady, serious. The weight of my words lingers between us, thick and suffocating. The tension crackles like a storm ready to break.

Sasuke's eyes widen momentarily in shock before narrowing dangerously. He doesn't move, hardly seeming to breathe. When he speaks, his voice is eerily calm. "You can't be serious..." His gaze traces down your body contemptuously. "Think carefully about what you're suggesting."

I bite my lip, clenching my hands into tight fists. My nails dig into my palms, but I barely feel the pain. "I’ve thought about it," I say, my voice shaking with frustration. "I won’t let them get away with treating me like a fool! Treating us like complete fools!"

My anger spills over, my voice rising as I shout, the weight of betrayal pressing down on my chest. My breathing is uneven, my body trembling—not from fear, but from the sheer rage bubbling inside me.

I stare at Sasuke, waiting for his reaction, daring him to challenge me.

Sasuke's expression darkens, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something else—perhaps a spark of understanding. He steps closer, his voice low and dangerous. "You want revenge." It's not a question.

I nod, looking up at his tall figure.

Sasuke's gaze holds yours for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he lets out a low, bitter laugh. "You know what? Fuck it." He steps even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If they want to play dirty, we can too."

I look into his eyes, searching for an answer, for anything that will tell me what he's thinking. "You'll help me?" My voice comes out quieter this time, but the desperation lingers beneath it. I need to know, I can't do this alone. My heart pounds as I wait for his response, the tension between us thick and suffocating.

"Yes. Let's make them regret ever touching someone else." He reaches up, gently catching your chin in his fingers. "But don't you dare think this means I want anything more than revenge."

"wouldn't dream of it" I muttered

"Good." He drops his hand. His mind races with plans. He looks at you, really looks at you for the first time. You're pretty - really pretty. He hardens his expression. "You know what we need to do?" He asks seriously. I nod, my expression unreadable. "Do what they did," I say nonchalantly, my voice void of hesitation.

"We have to cheat back," I continue, my tone unwavering. "Just like they did."

"Correct." He crosses his arms. "We need to act like a real couple. Hold hands, sit close, all that..." He pauses, his mind wandering to more intimate details. "We need to kiss." His face remains stoic, but his heart pounds unexpectedly in his chest. He pushes the thought away. "We'll start tonight." He looks at you.

I nod agreeing, "alright but where would we meet?"

"My room." He says bluntly. He turns and starts walking, expecting you to follow. As he walks, he sends a quick message to his 'girlfriend', telling her he's going to 'hang out with a friend' tonight. He smiles to himself, already enjoying this little game.

I stood there, momentarily shocked, before quickly following after him. "I’ll need your contact, I don’t have your address," I began, trying to explain.

"Right." He mutters, sending you his contact. He adds you on Snapchat too, because why not? He watches your display picture - a cute selfie. He hardens again. "Meet me at my place tonight. Eight sharp." He sends you his address. "And..."

I paused as I added him back, my fingers hovering over my phone. "And what…?" I look up at him, waiting for him to finish, my heart pounding in anticipation.

"...Wear something that'll piss them off." He says coldly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Something really low-cut. Really short." He glances down purposely, then back up at your incredulous face.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

... part 2?

(new to tumblr pls give tips/ tricks on how to make my posts more cute and aesthetic!!")

[3igbootyl0ver]

who hurt you? [ii]

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: Tara mistakenly puts herself in a relationship she thought would be full of love.

word count: 1822

warnings: (Tara's POV), mentions of abuse, violence, angst, swearing

a/n: ok hi guys this is mostly Tara's POV and won't really be focusing btwn her and r's relationship. the next part would probably be the last one too but im always up on doing head canons for this pic. anyways apologies for any inaccuracy for this part, if ya'll have any feedback or suggestions feel free to dm me or send anonymously.

part [i] | part [iii] | part [iv] | part [v]

Tara never meant for any of this to happen.

She first met Amber a year ago, at a party that invited everyone from both Blackmore and Woodsboro High. Tara went with you at first, but you quickly got caught up in the chaos of the event, drinking with friends to drown your frustrations over the rivalry, leaving Tara to wander through the crowd alone.

Tara glanced around the room, feeling a bit out of place without you. It was her first real taste of a high school party, but somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. You were missing. Some were celebrating—laughing, dancing, and basking in the glory of their win over Blackmore—while others attended this party just for an excuse to get drunk, but Tara wasn’t feeling the same rush. That was when she noticed Amber standing off to the side, holding a drink and watching the crowd with a knowing smile.

Amber had been a wild card that night. No one expected her to show up, least of all Tara. But Amber’s reputation preceded her—everyone knew she was sharp, calculated, and, most importantly, she knew how to play the game. She wasn’t just there to celebrate; she was there to get ahead.

Tara’s initial impression of Amber was a mix of admiration and curiosity. Amber seemed to hold herself in a way that suggested she knew something no one else did. And that intrigued Tara, even if she couldn’t quite explain why.

As Tara wandered away from the chaotic center of the party, she ended up near Amber. The two of them started talking, mostly small talk at first—what they were doing after high school, the thrill of their victory, and the peculiar tension between Woodsboro and Blackmore. Tara found herself drawn to Amber’s cool confidence, the way she seemed to have everything under control.

But what started as a simple conversation slowly shifted into something deeper. Amber had a way of making Tara feel like she was the only one in the room, even when there were dozens of people around. Tara’s mind kept drifting back to the feeling Amber gave her: like maybe she could be something more, something beyond the quiet girl who never quite fit in.

And so, things began to unravel.

Tara never meant for it to go this far. It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious, just a casual connection. But somewhere along the way, Amber made it clear that she wasn’t just interested in Tara’s company—she had a plan, and Tara was a part of it. Tara hadn’t realized how deep Amber’s intentions went until it was already too late. Now, Tara was left to figure out how she’d let herself be pulled into something so complicated—something that, in hindsight, was far more than just a meeting between two people at a party.

Everything was bliss when Tara and Amber started dating. She was kind, gentle, and attentive—the kind of person who made Tara feel understood and like the most important person in the world. It felt like a dream. Amber would send her thoughtful texts, surprise her with little gifts, and always knew how to make her laugh. Tara felt safe, seen, and loved in a way she hadn’t before.

But as time went on, Amber’s true colors started to surface—slowly, almost imperceptibly at first.

It started with small criticisms. At first, they were disguised as concern, little comments about Tara’s appearance or habits that Amber claimed were meant to help her. "You know, if you ate healthier, maybe you wouldn't feel so tired all the time." Or, "I don’t think that outfit is really doing you any favors." Tara tried to brush it off, telling herself it was just Amber wanting her to be her best. But the comments grew sharper, more frequent.

"You always mess things up," Amber would say when Tara made a mistake, like forgetting to pick up groceries or missing a text. "Why can’t you ever get anything right?" Her tone wasn’t playful anymore. It was condescending, even cruel. Tara began to feel like she couldn’t do anything without Amber pointing out what she’d done wrong.

The verbal jabs escalated when Amber started to get possessive. At first, Tara thought it was just a sign of how much Amber cared. But Amber's jealousy started to feel suffocating. She'd ask Tara where she was going, who she was with, and why she didn’t tell her first. "You don't really need to hang out with them, do you?" Amber would ask, her voice dripping with insinuation. It would have been even worse if she had hung out with you. It was as if you were Amber's breaking point. "They don’t even care about you like I do." "I’m better than them; why are you still hanging out with them?"

Tara found herself apologizing constantly—for things she didn’t even understand; she would say sorry just to avoid the tension. 

It was always the same cycle: Amber would get irritated for no reason, her voice would grow cold and sharp just to insult Tara. "You always do this; you always make everything more difficult than it has to be. Why can’t you just do things right?". The next day, Amber would be apologetic, trying to console Tara, making her forget everything that happened the day before. She said all the right things, but Tara couldn’t ignore the knot of anxiety that lingered in her chest. She had a way of twisting everything, making Tara feel like she was always in the wrong, walking on eggshells.

And soon, the emotional abuse turned into physical fights. One day, Tara had dinner plans with Mindy when Amber confronted her again, "You always do this," she snapped. "You always choose them over me." Her voice was cold, venomous.

Tara tried to explain, but Amber wasn’t hearing it. "You think you can just leave whenever you want? No, you’re not going anywhere." Before Tara could react, Amber grabbed her by the arm—tightly, her fingers digging into Tara’s skin. "You’re hurting me, Amber; let me go!" Tara shouted, trying to pull away, but her grip tightened. She twisted Tara’s arm painfully, forcing her to sit down.

Tara’s heart was racing. She didn’t recognize this version of Amber—this wasn’t the woman she had fallen in love with. The love they once shared felt like a distant memory, replaced with anger, control, and fear. Tara was terrified, but she didn’t know how to escape. Before the day ended, Tara made up an excuse to Mindy that she couldn’t make it. She thought about her friends. Chad, Mindy, You. How will she be able to explain herself? She’s embarrassed and ashamed of herself if she were to ever face either of you. 

There was once when Amber picked up Tara from school when she saw her talking to you, both of you giggling like lovestruck teenagers, like you were in love with each other. And Amber simply couldn’t have that. Once both of them got back to Amber’s house, she gripped Tara’s arm, demanding an explanation. "So you’re just whoring around your school with someone else? Especially them? You’re just a slut, aren’t you?" Amber seethed, her nails digging into Tara’s skin, leaving another mark on her skin. Tara stood there, tears streaming down her face, knowing no matter what she said, it would be dismissed, twisted, or ignored. "You’re mine, Tara. I’m not letting you go anywhere," were the last words she heard before being shoved down the stairs, undoubtedly leaving bruises all over her body. She knew the next day Amber would whisper apologies, giving her kisses and hugging her in an attempt to make her forget.

Tara began pulling away, distancing herself from you, from Chad, from Mindy, from Anika—everyone. It wasn’t that she didn’t care anymore, but she couldn’t bear the thought of Amber’s wrath falling on them, especially you. She couldn’t risk you getting hurt because of her, couldn’t risk Amber turning her anger on the people she loved. The more Tara tried to protect her friends, the more she isolated herself.

Every moment felt like a calculation; every text, every phone call, every plan made without Amber’s approval felt like a risk. Tara started to feel like a prisoner in her own life, like Amber was always there—watching, waiting for her to slip up, to make a mistake.

Amber had a way of making her feel like she was constantly under surveillance, always one misstep away from an explosion. Tara couldn’t shake the feeling that Amber was breathing down her neck, that every time she laughed too loudly with a friend or spent too much time away from her, Amber would find out. And when Amber found out, the consequences would be brutal. Tara had learned that the hard way.

It was like living in a constant state of fear. Tara’s heart would race whenever she saw a message from you or heard from one of her friends. She hated that it had come to this—that Amber’s control over her had stretched so far that she couldn’t even speak freely without worrying about the fallout.

But more than anything, she hated that the woman she loved, the woman she had trusted, had become someone she feared. Every day, she woke up wondering how much longer she could live like this. How much longer until Amber's control over her—and over everyone she cared about—was too much to bear?

Amber’s behavior spiraled even further. The emotional abuse had crossed into physical violence, and Tara was left unsure of where it would go next. Amber would apologize, beg for forgiveness, and then turn around and hurt her again. Tara began to feel like she was losing herself. She was afraid of what might happen if she tried to leave, afraid of what Amber might do. 

Though she would still post pictures of them together, of them being in a happy relationship for people to see online, the reality was far different. Behind the carefully staged photos, the smiles seemed forced, the laughter hollow. She knew the posts didn’t reflect the late-night arguments or the hidden marks on Tara’s body. Yet, there was comfort in the illusion, in maintaining a facade that everyone else admired. It was easier to keep up the pretense than to confront the discomfort of what was really happening—of the slow unraveling that no one could see. The attention, the validation from likes and comments, provided a temporary sense of relief, a distraction from the gnawing uncertainty she felt every time she looked at Amber when the camera was off. It became a blurred line for Tara to interpret what was the reality and the sick image she created of her and Amber online. 

But one thing was clear: this wasn’t love anymore. And Tara didn’t know how much longer she could stay in a relationship that was slowly suffocating her.

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

a/n: next update might be awhile bc exam season is coming up and im a chill girl that needs to rest so you'll probably hear from me in like 2-3 weeks :p

[rafayelgod]

🔞 WARNING ADULT CONTEN, NSFW, BDSM, HARDSEX, NOT FOR KIDS, CALEB FANFICTION! 🔞

Caleb - Run Hide and Seek 🥵🔞💦

🔞 Content Warning: This story contains mature themes, including explicit sexual content, dominance, and portrayals of a step-sibling relationship that is sexual in nature. Reader discretion is advised.

Caleb × You

The afternoon sun slanted through the living room window, casting a warm, golden light across the comfortable space. You were curled up on the large armchair, a mug of tea warming your hands, while Caleb sat opposite you on the couch, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he recounted a story from your shared childhood.

"Remember that time," he began, his deep voice rumbling pleasantly, "when you convinced me there was a dragon living in the big oak tree in Grandma's backyard? You were maybe five, all wide eyes and serious little faces."

You giggled, pulling your feet further under you. "Hey! You totally believed me for a whole week!"

He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. His dark hair caught the light, and his purple eyes were soft with nostalgia as he looked at you. "I did. You were always such a brilliant storyteller, weaving tales out of thin air. And you'd drag me out there with a makeshift sword - a broom handle - ready to slay it."

Villa Vacation

"And you, brave soldier, were always right there beside me," you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. It was true. From makeshift dragon hunts to building secret forts in the woods behind Grandma's house, Caleb had always been your partner in crime, your protector, the one person who understood your wild imagination and joined you in it wholeheartedly. Even after Grandma was gone, leaving just the two of you in the quiet house, those memories lingered, threads connecting your past and your present, a foundation built on shared secrets and unwavering affection. He'd always tell you these stories, about your silly antics, about his own childhood fears and triumphs, weaving a tapestry of your intertwined lives.

The scent of pine and damp earth filled the air as you walked hand-in-hand through the beautiful, sprawling woods surrounding the villa you'd rented for your holiday. After weeks of Caleb's demanding schedule as a Colonel and your own busy life, this escape felt like a dream. The sun dappled through the canopy above, casting shifting patterns on the leafy ground.

"Did you know," Caleb said, squeezing your hand gently, "they say this particular forest stretch has whispers of ancient magic? Local myths about forest spirits who play tricks on travelers."

"Ooh, tell me more!" you said, eyes wide with playful interest. You'd always loved hearing him talk about myths and legends, his smart mind absorbing everything. "What kind of tricks?"

He smiled down at you. "They might make you see things that aren't there, or lead you astray. Some legends even say they can steal memories... or hearts." He paused, his gaze lingering on yours.

You grinned, enjoying the fantasy. "Well, I hope they don't steal my heart," you said, leaning up and planting a quick, soft kiss on his cheek. "It's already taken."

Caleb immediately stopped walking, his tall frame freezing. A faint blush, a sight you always found incredibly endearing, crept up his neck and across his cheeks. His purple eyes widened slightly in surprise.

You laughed, the sound light and cheerful in the quiet woods. "Look at you, blushing like a schoolboy!" You poked his cheek gently. "My big, tough Colonel, flustered by a little kiss?"

He cleared his throat, his blush deepening. "It's... it's not just a 'little kiss' when it's from you," he muttered, his voice a little gruff.

You loved seeing him like this, the usually composed and dominant man reduced to a blushing mess. It only encouraged you to tease him more. You leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, "Maybe those forest spirits are getting to you, huh? Making you think naughty thoughts?" You fluttered your eyelashes innocently. "Like wanting to pin me against one of these trees and show me just how much you missed me?"

His blush deepened further, but a slow, dark smirk began to spread across his lips. His eyes, moments ago soft, now held a possessive intensity that sent a familiar thrill through you. You felt his hand tighten slightly around yours. You glanced down, and couldn't help but notice the definite bulge pressing against the front of his tactical pants. Success.

You grinned, a mischievous spark igniting in your eyes. His reaction was exactly what you wanted. "Oh, look," you said, leaning up again and pressing another quick kiss, this time closer to his ear. "Looks like Colonel needs to relieve some... tension."

You didn't wait for him to respond. Giggling, you pulled your hand from his and turned, breaking into a run back towards the villa. "Catch me if you can!" you called over your shoulder, already weaving through the trees.

"Hey! Be careful!" he yelled after you, his voice laced with amusement and a hint of urgency. The chase was on. You could hear his footsteps behind you, long, powerful strides covering the ground quickly. You laughed again, the joy of the game exhilarating. You didn't slow down until you burst out of the tree line and sprinted towards the villa's entrance, slipping inside and letting the door click shut behind you. You were hiding.

°°°

You were already halfway across the living room when you heard Caleb's voice, closer now, carrying clearly from just outside.

"Hide properly, Pipsqueak," he warned, his voice low and playful but with an unmistakable edge of anticipation. "Because once I find you... I'm not letting you go."

A shiver, not of fear but of delicious anticipation, ran down your spine. You needed a good hiding spot. You scurried towards the far corner of the open-plan room, squeezing yourself behind a large, decorative ceramic vase nestled amongst some lush potted plants. Heart pounding, you pressed your back against the cool wall, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

The front door opened slowly. Footsteps, deliberate and slow, padded into the room. He was clearly enjoying this, drawing out the suspense. You held your breath, listening intently. He was circling, his footsteps soft on the polished floorboards.

"Where could my beautiful little Hunter be?" he murmured, his voice teasingly close. "Did she run off with a forest spirit? Or is she playing a game?"

He was getting closer. You could practically feel his presence. You peeked slightly from behind the vase. He was standing a few feet away, hands on his hips, purple eyes scanning the room with a predatory gleam. He knew exactly where you were, didn't he? He was just playing with you.

Before you could even think about making a break for it, he was there. He rounded the vase in a single fluid movement, his eyes locking onto yours.

"Gotcha."

He breathed, his voice a low growl that sent a jolt through you.

You instincts screamed to run again, but he was too fast. He moved instantly, pinning you against the wall in the corner. His large hands flattened on either side of your head, trapping you. His body was pressed close, leaving no room for escape.

"Trying to get away from me?" he murmured, his voice losing its playful tone. It was deeper, possessive now. His purple eyes burned into yours, intense and unyielding. "Tsk tsk. Didn't I tell you? Once I have you..." He lowered his head, bringing his face close to yours. "...I'm not letting you go. Not ever." His gaze dropped to your lips, then lower, to your neck. "And I'm going to do absolutely anything I want with you."

His words sent a thrilling shiver through you. You felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks as his lips descended, not to your mouth, but to the sensitive skin of your neck. He kissed and sucked, his mouth devouring that pulse point. You gasped, startled by the sudden intimacy, and instinctively squirmed against the wall, a small, helpless sound escaping your throat.

But his hold was firm, his body a rigid wall against yours. There was no escape. After a moment of futile struggle, you surrendered, tilting your head back to give him better access. His lips continued their assault, biting gently, sucking harder, already promising a mark. He pinned his body even tighter against yours, leaving no space between you. That's when you felt it - the undeniable proof of your earlier teasing, hard and pressing against your lower abdomen. His cock was fully erect against you.

"C-caleb?"

Your blush deepened, spreading down your chest. A wave of heat washed over you, and you felt a answering ache begin to bloom deep within you. You were just as affected by him as he was by you.

He lifted one of his large hands from the wall, sliding it around your leg. With surprising strength, he lifted your foot off the ground, hooking it around his hip, tilting your pelvis against his.

"Caleb, wait..." you whispered frantically, glancing around the open room. "The couch... or the bedroom..."

He didn't listen. His eyes, when he looked at you, were darkened with need, promises of dominance swirling in their depths. His free hand went to the button of his tactical pants and, with a practiced flick, unbuckled them, pulling the zipper down in a single, swift movement. The sound seemed impossibly loud in the quiet villa.

He shifted slightly, aligning himself. You felt the warm fabric of his pants brush against your thigh as he adjusted his position. The head of his cock nudged against the thin fabric of your shorts, warm and heavy.

"No waiting," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Right here. Right now.. Ahh,"

He pushed gently, finding your warmth, your wetness. You gasped again, clutching his shoulders as his engorged cock found your entrance. He didn't hesitate. With a slow, deep thrust, he slid inside you.

You cried out softly, the sudden fullness, the heat, the sheer rightness of him settling deep within you, stealing your breath. Your head fell back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. You could feel every inch of him filling you completely.

"Fuck..." he groaned, burying his face against your neck again, breathing heavily. "Ah- mmh so damn good..." His body pressed harder against yours, leveraging your tilted hip to bury himself even deeper.

He was still biting and sucking fiercely at your neck, leaving a trail of delicious bruises, as he began to move his hips, a slow, deliberate roll that sent waves of exquisite sensation through you. The initial shock gave way to pure, unadulterated pleasure. You couldn't help but moan, a soft, drawn-out sound that vibrated in your chest.

He pulled his head back slightly, his eyes finding yours. His usually calm face was a mask of intense pleasure and deep, raw need. He bit down on his lower lip, his gaze challenging, knowing. He looked incredibly sexy, completely primal. Seeing him like that, so consumed by you, made your knees feel weak, made you want to melt right there against the wall. He was teasing you, controlling every movement.

"Did you like that Pipsqueak?" he whispered, his voice husky, laced with dark humor. "Running away, only to be caught and filled right where I found you?"

You couldn't speak, only managed a weak nod, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

He smirked again, a slow, predatory expression. "Good," he said, the word a low rumble. He began to move again, his thrusts slow, deep, and agonizingly sensual. Each movement was a deliberate invasion, pushing you against the wall, making you feel utterly taken. "You shouldn't run from me like that," he murmured, his voice close to your ear as he leaned back in to kiss your neck. "Not when I get this hard thinking about how good you feel... how much I want you."

He moved again, a deep, slow drive that made your body arch into his. "Every single time I look at you...Aah," he hissed, his hips pausing for a moment, buried deep inside you. "...I want this. I want to be in you. Mmh, All the time." He pulled back slightly, then plunged back in with deliberate force. "Do you feel that? Hmm? Do you feel.. How much I want you?"

Just when you thought you couldn't take the slow torture anymore, his hand moved. It wasn't rough, but firm, wrapping around your throat. He didn't squeeze hard, just enough to apply a light pressure, enough to make you gasp and force your eyes to lock onto his face.

His eyes were burning, intense purple orbs that held you captive. The dominance radiating from him in that moment was overwhelming, intoxicating. "Ah.. ahh Caleb,"

You didn't feel scared, you felt a rush of something primal, a deep-seated part of you that absolutely craved being dominated by him like this, owned by his gaze, his touch, his body filling yours.

"Aahh," His mouth opened slightly, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips. He leaned his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. With a final, powerful thrust, he pulsed inside you.

"Mmh, yes," he groaned, clinging to you. He didn't pull out immediately, just buried himself against you, holding you tightly. You felt the warmth of his release flooding into you, a potent wave that mirrored your own building climax.

He didn't pull out right away, staying connected, breathing heavily into your neck. After a long moment, he finally stirred, his hand releasing your throat. He carefully pulled out of you, the sudden emptiness making you ache. He kept his arm around your waist, steadying you.

He didn't let go. Instead, he easily scooped you up into his arms, holding you against his chest as if you weighed nothing. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, your head resting on his shoulder. He carried you effortlessly through the villa, past the couch and towards the bedroom, his large frame radiating protective warmth.

You knew, with absolute certainty, that the night was far from over. And you were more than ready for it. He carried you to the large, comfortable bed in the bedroom and gently laid you down. He didn't waste time. He was inside you again, and again, and again. Each time was more intense, more possessive than the last. By the third time, you were completely sated, body heavy and humming with residual pleasure. He finally pulled you into his arms, shifting so you were curled against his chest, your head tucked under his chin. You drifted off to sleep, the steady beat of his heart a comforting rhythm beneath your ear.

°°°

Morning light, soft and diffused by the villa's curtains, woke you gently. You stirred, feeling soft fabric beneath you and a strong, solid weight around you. You were still tucked against Caleb's chest, his arm a warm, protective band around your waist. His breathing was slow and even, the remnants of sleep still lingering around him.

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. He stirred, his arm tightening around you instinctively.

"Morning," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep but instantly softening as he felt you against him. One of his hands came up to gently stroke your hair.

"Morning," you whispered back, snuggling closer. You felt utterly content, loved, and cherished.

He kissed the top of your head. "Sleep well, Pipsqueak?"

You hummed in response. "Better than well." You tilted your head back to look at him. His dark hair was slightly mussed from sleep, and his purple eyes, though still a little hazy, were already filled with that familiar, intense affection when he looked at you.

He smiled, a genuine, tender smile that reached his eyes. "Good. That's all I want." He tucked you closer. "Woke up and you were right here. Best feeling in the world."

"Mmm," you agreed, tracing the line of his jaw with your finger. "It's pretty good waking up next to you too, Caleb."

He chuckled softly. He kissed your forehead, then your nose, then lingered on your lips for a soft, tender kiss. "You know how much I love you, right?" he said, his voice quiet and sincere.

You felt your heart swell. "I know. And I love you too. So, so much."

"More than anything?" he teased, a playful glint returning to his eyes.

You laughed. "Much, much more." You pressed a kiss to his chest again. "You're my favorite adventure."

His arm tightened around you, holding you securely. The quiet intimacy of the morning, the warmth of his body against yours, the easy flow of comfort and love - it was everything. After the intensity of the night, this gentle tenderness was a perfect grounding. You were safe, loved, and exactly where you belonged, wrapped in the arms of your handsome, possessive, wonderfully complicated stepbrother and boyfriend.

- The End - 🌚💦🔞

©Melody (Follow for more hot stories) 🌚💦🔞

[dokoni-mo]

Waiting Drives You Crazy || Springtrap x GN! Reader

summary: you reunite after 30 years

SFW // angsty fluff

word count: 3252

warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, mental health issues including but not limited to anxiety, depression, and thoughts of unaliving, springtrap is smelly af, established relationship, angst, fluff, will is just a bad person lmao

masterlist

a/n: wow my first fic in more than a year,, i really hope that I've still got it!! This story doesn't really connect to crave toooooo muchhh?? but i've still tagged my normal list for crave anyway!! pls lmk if i missed you or you don't want to be tagged in stuff like this! also, this is based off one of my fav fnaf vhs series!! i'll link it here! enjoy!

~~

When they called you saying that they had found William, you spilt your coffee mug all over the kitchen floor.

"What?" Was the only thing that managed to slip past your trembling lips, breathless as if you had been kicked in the chest full-force. And that's what it felt like, honestly, hearing William's name again. Nobody ever talked about him anymore. After what had happened, all that came up about him after his disappearance, it was taboo to even mention him in passing. Let sleeping dogs lie, they said. Leave the demon to his demons.

But a part of you always wondered.

"Yes, you heard me correct." The agent reassured you, and you could hear how he tapped his pen against his notepad on the other end of the line. "We found him, er, we found William. The DNA samples we collected all matched the ones we had on our database. And Michael gave a positive ID."

You fell silent again, your blood feeling as if it were ice in your veins. The room was fuzzy, with a ringing in your ears that you couldn't pinpoint when it began. You stood motionless for a moment before your legs gave out from under you. Your body stumbled to the side, making you fall against your kitchen counter with an oof.

"(Y/N)?" The agent's voice asked, a note of concern in his otherwise flat, professional tone, "Are you alright? Are you still there?"

You took a few deep breaths to steady yourself, nodding even though the man on the other line couldn't see.

"Y-Yes, yes, I am." You confirmed, gripping on to your phone tighter. In order to make sure you wouldn't stumble again, you slid down your wooden cabinets to sit on the floor, not caring about your shattered coffee mug and the pool of steaming coffee next to you. "Sorry, I just... I..."

"No worries," the agent replied, seeming to understand you despite not saying a word, "I get that this is a lot to take in. Just, take a few deep breaths, yeah?"

You take his advice and take in a few deep breaths, the quiet moment allowing you to feel just how fast your heart was racing in your chest. You swallowed thickly after composing yourself, hugging your knees close to your chest.

"I-I just... Is he okay? Is Michael okay?"

"Oh, yeah, Michael is fine. William, however..."

The man trailed off, an awkward silence hanging over the air between the two of you. Your impatience got the better of you, and you were the first to speak up.

"What? What's wrong with him?"

Silence again, only broken up by a sigh and the faint sounds of whispers to a colleague you didn't make an effort to discern. You were about to ask the same thing again, only firmer, when the agent finally spoke again, calm enough to make you slightly annoyed.

"We think it might be best for you to come and see for yourself. William's situation is... quite complex. And we're it would do him some good to see you again."

The annoyance you felt slowly faded away into the ether at the offer, your lips parting in surprise.

Come and see for yourself.

Could it really be that easy? Thirty years you spent wondering what happened to William. Searching for any little piece of evidence that might have pointed to where he would have gone. All those nights of tossing and turning, rereading the newspaper articles over and over, booking therapy appointments just to cancel the night before, just to be handed a reunion on a silver platter? If it weren't for the ceramic shard digging in to your heel, you would have thought you were dreaming.

"Uh- O-Of course we understand if you would prefer not to--"

"No. Sorry, n-no, no..." You rasped, only just then realizing that you hadn't said anything, "No, I want to. I definitely want to. I just thought... It's been so long..."

"We understand. We thought so as well, but... I-It'll be easier to explain when you get here. We could have a car come and get you as soon as tomorrow afternoon, if that works for you?"

You stood up from your seat on the floor, carrying your phone over to look out the window. You could see the sun setting overtop of the buildings surrounding your shitty little apartment complex. Your left hand absent-mindedly fidgeted by your side, touching the ring on your finger and twirling it over and over again on the digit.

"Yeah, that's fine." You replied, knowing full well you had work in the morning. To hell with it. Fuck it.

This was far more important.

~~~

Nearly the entire ride to the facility was spent by you fidgeting in the back seat of the van with not a word spoken to the driver. You couldn't find a position to where you could sit comfortably, making you shift around every so often. Looking out the window to the drab, grey sky that stretched out in front of you, you tried to distract yourself to no avail. Your thoughts constantly drifted back to William, thousands of thoughts drifting through your mind.

Where the hell had he been the last thirty years? How was he even still alive? Why didn't he ever try to contact you? What exactly did these people mean when telling you it would be easier to explain in person? And most importantly, what the hell were you even going to say to him?

You didn't know. But you needed to try. Hopefully you could wing it as you go.

Eventually, after passing by some rather sketchy looking buildings on the highway, you scooted forward in your seat to talk to the driver, leaning against the passenger seat as you looked at his reflection in the rear-view mirror.

"Hey," you said, "How much further are we out?"

"Just around five minutes." The driver replied, "Just gotta take the exit and we're there."

The driver put the blinker on and merged out of the highway, taking the exit ramp down closer to some of the buildings. He drove for a few more minutes before pulling in to the parking lot of one of the shorter buildings, a few security guards around the perimeter. The two of you drove up to what appeared to be the front door, where two men in suits were waiting outside for you once you parked.

The driver walked around to the opposite side of the car to open the door for you, letting you walk the short distance up to the door. The two men standing there looked at you as you approached, one of them reaching out to shake your hand. This one had glasses with salt-and-pepper hair, the other one with brown hair and deep wrinkles.

"(Y/N), yes?" The agent shaking your hand greeted, offering you a small, almost sympathetic smile, "We're glad you could make it out. I'm agent Carter, the one you spoke with on the phone. This is my colleague agent Smith."

You glanced to agent Smith, who only gave you a little nod before you looked back to agent Carter. It was clear who was the more friendly of the two.

"I see. Nice to meet you too." You replied, shifting your bag on your shoulder somewhat awkwardly. "Thank you both for inviting me here. It's... This is an opportunity I didn't think I'd ever get."

"Oh, it's no trouble--"

"Let's just get down to business, yes?" Agent Smith interjected with a sigh lacing his voice, turning and walking off in to the facility. Agent Carter followed behind him quickly, and held the door open for you as you followed. You walked behind the two men as they led you deeper into the building, seeing the different people in business-casual attire milling about the area.

"We found Mr. Afton a few weeks ago, but it's only now that we have seen any signs of life from him." The brown haired agent told you, making you pause and raise a brow.

"Signs of... life?" You questioned, earning a sideways glance from both agents.

"You'll see for yourself in due time." Smith replied before ducking inside of a room, Carter holding the door for you again as you stepped inside.

You took a moment to stand in the doorway and take in what you saw inside of the room, your breath catching in your throat. A plethora of large, flat TV screens lined the far wall, some displaying images of bare rooms, and others just showing static. There was a microphone on the desk lining the same wall, along with some computer monitors, keyboards, notebooks, abandoned cups of coffee and three different swivel chairs. Even though none of these were threatening by themselves, the combination of all of them made you shift in your stance and clear your throat.

"Wh... So, where is he?" You asked as you looked to Agent Carter for some answers, who just gave you a small smile.

"He's just behind this door." Smith replied as he gestured over his shoulder, nodding in the same direction. Looking behind him, you saw a reinforced door with barred, reinforced windows and several different locking mechanisms. Your brow furrowed in confusion and you opened your mouth to question it, but Agent Carter had interrupted you before any words could come out. He walked up to you and pressed something long and metal in to your hands, only adding to your confusion.

"We require that you to take this in with you." He said, his eyes flashing with hint of sympathy as you turned the object over in your hands; a shocking prod. "It's for your own protection in the event we can't get the door open in time."

"Wh-What?" You questioned as your eyes widened, turning the shock prod over in your hands again. "Are you serious? Will wouldn't."

"You have one hour to be with him. After that you'll have to sign a form and undergo a medical examination." Smith interrupted, placing a hand on your shoulder and practically pulling you over to the reinforced door.

You tried to protest, but he either didn't hear you or didn't care as he undid the locks to the door. The agent opened the door the bare minimum amount required to get you through the threshold before practically shoving you inside, nearly knocking you off your balance. You clutched on to the shock prod tighter as you flinched at the sound of the heavy door shutting behind you then the clicking of several locks closing shut. You stood in silence for a moment before the lights flickered on in the room, your eyes stinging as they adjusted to the harsh, cool-toned lighting.

Inside of the room was a metal table with two chairs, with scratches, marks, and mystery stains lining every surface. Scanning over the room, your eyes eventually landed on something in the corner, slumped over and sitting on the ground. It took you a moment to decipher what it was, earning a gasp from you when you eventually did. It was the spring-bonnie suit William used to wear, all those years ago. You could recognize that yellow fur and rabbit ears anywhere. Although, it was clear that time had not been kind to old bonnie, his fur matted and full of holes and stains, with obvious chunks missing, not to mention the horrible smell.

You stared at the yellow rabbit for a long moment before your grip on the shock prod tightened again, your brow furrowing. You felt frustration and anger rise inside your chest, feeling the heat in your cheeks. You were promised to see William. And this was all you got? A rotting costume?

"Is this some sort of sick joke?" You sneered as you looked around the room again, your eyes eventually landing on the security camera hanging from the ceiling. You glared in to it before turning and pounding on the iron door, your frustration only growing with each loud bang.

"Are you two serious?! What is this?! Get me out of here! Hello?? HELLO--"

"B... Bun... ny... Bun-ny..."

You freeze, your face growing pale and your motions falling away to a halt. You feel a chill run down your whole body, as if a ghost had passed through you and stole your soul.

No... it wasn't. It couldn't be. It was impossible...

But who else had ever called you bunny before?

Slowly, you turn around, your hands shaking and your bottom lip trembling. Your wide eyes take in the sight before you, sending another chill down your body. Spring bonnie, who was originally sitting down, was now upright, hunched over and twitching every so often in a manner that made your body ache. Two white, glowing eyes were staring right at you, almost as wide as your own. You could feel your body tremble with fear, but your mind felt oddly blank, as if trying to catch up with reality.

It couldn't be. I just couldn't--

"W... Will?" You heard yourself say before you could register it in your mind, your body acting on pure instinct alone.

The decrepit Spring Bonnie seemed to twitch again at this, the rusty joints creaking and popping in an unnatural manner. The animatronic takes a heavy, labored step closer to you making you flinch.

"B-Bun-ny... m-my... bunny..." Spring Bonnie's voice spoke to you again, sounding as if his throat were full of wires and metal. He takes another painful-looking step towards you, and you flinch again, your back pressing against the metal door as the shock prod dropped out of your hand and clattered to the floor. The animatronic seems to take note of this and stops his approach, an almost pained, heartbroken look flashing in his mechanical eyes.

"D-Don't be... scared." Spring Bonnie tells you, even as you felt your lungs rapidly rise and fall in your chest. "It's me... (Y/N). I-It's me..." I would... never... hurt you."

You heard a ringing in your ears as you listened to the animatronic... William's words. No, there was no denying it anymore. You knew in your heart that this was William. Those glowing, robotic eyes; you could still see the remnants of the man you loved behind him. The grey eyes that you used to love with all your heart.

Tears stung in the rims of your eyes as you stared ahead at William, the cold air of the room stinging inside your chest. A pained look flashed in your eyes, and you started to shake your head.

"N-No... i-it... That's not..." You choked out as you felt hot tears slip down your cheeks and dribble down your chin. "How, I... I-I don't understand--"

William shushes you before you could get out any more words, to the best of his ability, at least. He takes a few more labored steps closer to you until he's within arms length, the smell of rot and mold filling your lungs. You ignore it, however, glued in place as you watch his... hand? paw? Reach up to you. A metal finger lifts to your face, and wipes a tear from your cheek with a shocking amount of gentleness.

"You're... s-still as... stunning... as I... remember." William rasped, making your lips part as a warmth flooded your chest. Even now, all these years later, he still remembered you? Made you swoon? It was all you ever hoped for.

You took in a deep breath and let it slip from your lips, feeling how they curved up into the slightest of smiles. You reached up to your face and wiped your eyes as best you could, taking a moment to look William's new body up and down before meeting his gaze again.

"You thought about me?" You asked in a rasp of a voice, feeling the rotted furry palm of William's drop from your face and scrape down your arm.

"C-Constantly." He replied, and you swore you saw the rabbit ears on the top of his head perk up.

Your small smile lingered for a moment as you stared into William's glowing eyes, your gaze eventually trailing down his body once more. You could see the mold and rot on the tattered fur, along with remnants of what was probably blood and other gore you didn't want to think too much about. The more you looked, the more your smile faded, until it was just a frown.

"I just..." You began, shaking your head in disbelief. "I just have so many questions. How are you even alive? What happened to you?"

William's shoulders squared in response to your interrogation, a deep rumbling emanating through his voice box. He looked off to the side, deep in thought and pausing for a long moment, as if the memory was far in the depths of the remnants of his mind. After a beat, I looked back up into your eyes, and you felt his paw grab on to your hand.

"It is... a long... story." He rasped, tugging on your hand as he turned. He took a few heavily labored steps back to the corner of the room, and you followed after him. Slowly, he moved his giant body so that he could sit back on the floor, lifting up his arm for you to join him by his side. You looked at the obvious signs of decay where you were supposed to rest yourself, and pulled your jacket tighter around your body. You knew Will probably wanted some human contact and connection with you after so long, but you really didn't want it to end with having to go to the ER for a tetanus shot.

You knelt down before moving to sit next to William, feeling his heavy, robotic arm wrap around your shoulders. He pulled you in as close as you could go to him and let out a sound akin to a purr, his other paw moving to rest on your knee.

"I-I never meant... to leave you... bunny." William wheezed, his glowing eyes never leaving your face. "I was... chased. Trapped."

"Chased by who?"

The golden rabbit man paused, as if to search for what to say.

"Spirits... after me. Th-They wanted... revenge."

"Spirits? Revenge? Revenge for wha--"

"I-I was... terrified. So I... hid. In the suit. My sweat... made the... sp-springlocks... go off. I-I died slowly... painfully. But... came back later. S-Stuck in pain for... thirty years..."

Your eyes softened as you listened to William's story, feeling an ache in your chest. You couldn't imagine just how scared he must have been; scared, alone, and in pain for thirty years. It sounded like absolute hell. Worse than hell, even. It sounded like agony for him to even talk, let alone just exist inside of the Spring Bonnie suit for so long. Your eyes stung with tears again as you placed your hand over his, careful to avoid any sharp pieces of metal or wires.

"Oh, Will... I'm so sorry. That sounds... Just horrible."

You sniffled back your tears before lifting your hand to his rotted cheek, gently cupping it where you knew it would be safe. He immediately let out another purr, leaning in to your touch as his eyes turned half-lidded.

"Are you in pain right now?" You asked, bracing yourself for the answer.

"Y-Yes..." He responds, closing his eyes for a moment before gazing back at your face.

"B-But having you... makes... the pain... bearable."

~~~

tags: @guinea-pig16 @the-official-memester @randomwriteralan @mrsrogerwaters @laylaaftonshit @cherry-slushee @insert-memical-username @mrssafton @horrorking2000 @artist-anon08 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @jamiethenerdymonster @kimyona-san @purplewolfcoffee @violetlmfaoo @reapersimps @wawuwe @lovinglenore @zoey5252 @000-mika @strawberrysandhim @sopiasleeps @mxstly-melancholy @kinniewhre @myglife @coffeeforthecatgod69 @glitched-out-dusk @bagelbxtch @confiscated-peaches-main @itswolfie @zenhatescats1 @sat10 @dfghfjfjfjfjfj @strawberry-gothic

apologies to blogs tumblr won't let me @ ! If I missed you or you want to be added, please let me know!

[lobveyun]

lost in the melody | sjy

pairing: student!jake x student!reader | genre: fluff, romance, emotional(?)

synopsis: “lost in the melody" follows the journey of two souls brought together by music. when you stumble upon the quiet, talented jake sim in the school music room, a bond begins to from as he lets you into his world of melodies, secrets and dreams. together, you navigate the ups and downs of young love, face challenges, and support each other's aspirations, even when it means facing separation. through distance and time, your connection endures, creating a love story that, like music, is timeless and ever resonant.

! no cw !

[notes] hi guys okay so im doing this jake story and right now im working on a sunghoon story too so pls stay tuned! ive been very busy for the past months so this is like kind of a surprise post . anyways yea , go read

divider by @dollywons

jake sim was the first guy everyone noticed but few knew. tall with messy black hair that fell into his eyes, he often had a guitar case slung over his shoulders and headphones that seemed permanently attached to his ears. he drifted through the halls like a spector, his presence both magnetic and elusive.

you first truly saw him play one afternoon when curiosity led you to the music room after class. the door was slightly ajar, and a soft sound wafted out, pulling you in. inside, the late afternoon sun cast a golden glow around jake as he sat by the window, his fingers moving expertly over the strings. each note filled the room with a haunting melody that sent shivers down your spine.

he hadn’t noticed you at first; his eyes were closed, a serene smile gracing his lips as if he was in another world. you felt like an intruder, a momentary eavesdropper on something deeply personal personal but the music was intoxicating, and you couldn’t tear yourself away.

when he finally stopped, you clapped softly, unable to hold back your admiration.

jake’s eyes flew open, startled, “I didn’t know… I didn’t know anyone was here,” he stammered, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink as he scrambled to put his guitar down.

“I’m sorry,” you replied, a little embarrassed but genuinely impressed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. you play beautifully.”

his shoulders relaxed slightly, though he still looked shy. “thank you. I… I just play to unwind. it’s nothing special.”

“no way, it’s amazing,” you insisted, feeling an unexpected rush of courage. you introduced yourself, and after a moment, he offered a small smile in return, “i’m jake.”

as the bell rang, an awkward silence settled between you. “well, I guess I should go,” you said, shuffling your feet.

“yeah, me too,” he replied, his eyes darting away. but just before leaving, he glanced back at you, a flicker of hope in his gaze. it was as if he wanted to see you again.

in the weeks that followed, you found yourself crossing paths with jake more often. some days, you’d catch him in the music room, and he’d invite you in to listen. other times, you’d pass each other in the hall, exchanging shy smiles that made your heart flutter.

one afternoon, as you walked past the library, you noticed him sitting alone by the window, his head buried in a notebook. curiosity piqued, you stepped closer, but he noticed and quickly closed it, looking flustered.

“sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” you said, feeling slightly guilty for intruding. “no, it’s fine,” he replied, glancing down at his notebook as if it held all his secrets. “I was just… writing.”

“writing what?” you asked, unable to hide your curiosity.

he hesitated, biting his lip. after a moment, he sighed and opened the notebook to reveal a page filled with scribbled lines and music notes. “lyrics. it’s kind of personal. but, uh, it helps me sort out my thoughts.”

you leaned in closer, captivated. “they look beautiful. I’d love to hear some of it sometime.”

jake’s eyes softened, a shy smile forming on his lips, “maybe one day. when it’s finished.”

from that moment, you two grew closer. you often met after school in the music room, discussing everything from your favourite bands to your dreams. jake began to share more of himself, his guarded nature slowly breaking down.

as the school festival approached, jake surprised you by asking for your help with his band’s performance. “I could use someone I can trust,” he said, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “you know, to help organise things.”

excited, you agreed without hesitation. during rehearsals, you watched jake transform from the shy boy you knew into a confident musician. his presence on stage was electric; the way he commanded the audience’s attention left you breathless.

finally, the night of the festival arrived. the auditorium buzzed with energy, the scent of popcorn filling the air as students mingled, chatting excitedly. after a successful performance, where jake had poured his heart into every note, he suggested escaping the noise to the rooftop.

under a blanket of stars, jake took a deep breath, his expression serious yet vulnerable. “there’s… something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he said, his voice almost lost in the night breeze. he fidgeted, glancing away, clearly struggling with words.

encouraging him gently, you said, “you can tell me anything, jake. I promise.”

he looked at you, his eyes searching yours. “I’m not great at talking about my feelings. but being around you feels different. you make me feel like I can be myself.”

a lump formed in your throat as he continued, “I like you. more than I’ve liked anyone. you’ve been my inspiration for so many songs… would you give us a chance?”

you felt your heart race, your mind swirling with emotions. “jake, I feel the same way,” you confessed, your voice steady. “I’d love nothing more.”

a relieved smile broke across his face, his eyes lighting up with joy. “really?” he asked, disbelief mingling with hope.

jake invited you to his favourite spot by a secluded lake, a hidden gem he frequented to find peace. the two of you sat on a grassy hill, the sun setting in vibrant hues of orange and pink. as the cool breeze brushed against your skin, you shared childhood stories and dreams, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you.

“what’s it like to play music?” you asked, glancing at him as he gazed thoughtfully over the water.

“it’s like… he paused, searching for the right words. “it’s like being able to say things that I can’t cope with words. music allows me to show parts of myself that I keep hidden.”

you watched him, captivated. “and what about when you’re with me?”

he turned to you, his gaze softening. “but with you, I don’t feel like I need to hide.” he hesitated before adding, “you make me feel free.”

in that moment, your heart swelled with affection. without thinking, you leaned your head on his shoulder. jake tensed for a moment, then relaxed as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, pointing the sky in deep purples, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace and belonging.

as the months passed, your relationship with jake blossomed. you spent lunch together, swapping secrets and laughter. he often brought his guitar to your study sessions, playing soft tunes that filled the air with warmth. “you’re my muse,” he’d tease, making you blush, but you knew he meant it.

for the school’s end-of-year showcase, jake nervously asked you to sing with him. “I wrote a song for us,” he confessed, his cheeks turning a shade darker. “it’s everything I feel about you. I’d love it if we could sing it together.”

the night of the showcase was electric with anticipation. as you stood on stage, fingers intertwined with jake’s, the spotlight felt both exhilarating and terrifying. he began to play, his fingers dancing over the strings with a passion that took your breath away.

as he sang, his voice resonated through the auditorium, filled with emotion that stirred your heart. you joined in, your voices blending harmoniously, weaving a narrative of love and connection that captivated the audience.

when the last note lingered in the air, silence enveloped the room for a heartbeat before the crowd erupted into applause. jake turned to you, his eyes shining with gratitude and love. “thank you,” he whispered, brushing his fingers against yours. “for being the song I never knew I needed.”

tears of joy filled your eyes as you leaned in, meeting him halfway for a soft, tender kiss. the crowd faded away, leaving just the two of you in your own world, a melody playing that only you could hear.

but as your relationship deepened, the challenges began to surface. jake had a habit of retreating into himself whenever stress crept in, especially concerning his music. you noticed the change after a long rehearsal for the upcoming talent show; he seemed distant, his laughter replaced by silence.

“jake, is something bothering you?” you asked one afternoon, lightly touching his shoulder, concern etched on your face.

he looked up, frustration flickering in his eyes. “I… I just need some space right now,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. “it’s hard to explain.”

you nodded, heart heavy with worry. “okay, just… let me know if you need anything.”

days turned into weeks, and you felt him slipping away, a ghost of the boy you had grown to love. you decided you couldn’t stay silent any longer. after class one day, you confronted him, your heart racing. “jake, if there’s something wrong, you can talk to me. I’m here for you.”

his expression softened, but the conflict in his eyes was clear. “I’m scared,” he admitted quietly. “scared that I won’t be good enough for you, for the band… for anything. I don’t want to let you down.”

“jake, you’re not just good enough. you’re incredible,” you replied, determination lacing your voice. “you’ve always been enough for me. please, don’t shut me out.”

he looked at you, uncertainty lingering. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“but you already are,” you whispered, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. “please, let me in.”

after a long pause, jake finally nodded, his shoulders slumping as he exhaled deeply. “I’ll try. I promise.”

with open communication, the two of you began to navigate the rough patches together. slowly, jake opened up about his fears, his insecurities, and the pressure he felt to succeed. you listened, providing support and encouragement without judgment.

one sunny afternoon, while sitting in the park, jake surprised you with a small gift: a handwritten song. “it’s not perfect, but it’s for you,” he said, handing it over with a shy smile.

as you read the lyrics, your heart swelled with emotion. it spoke of love, vulnerability, and the beauty of sharing one’s soul with someone.

“jake, this is beautiful!” you exclaimed, feeling the tears of joy spill down your cheeks. “I love it!”

he grinned, the warmth of his smile lighting up your world. “I wanted to create something that captured how I feel about you.”

with renewed determination, you both decided to work on a song together for the talent show. you spent countless hours crafting the melody, laughter spilling from your lips as you struggled to hit the right notes, your bond growing stronger with each chord played.

on the night of the talent show, excitement filled the air as students and teachers gathered, eager to witness the performances. as you and jake took the stage, the world outside faded away. the moment felt surreal; the spotlight was bright, but the connection between you two was brighter.

you exchanged glances, and he nodded, a silent promise of support. as the music began, you poured your hearts into the performance, each note resonating with passion and emotion. the audience was captivated, swept away by the magic you created together.

when the final chord rang out, the room erupted in applause, and you could hardly believe the joy that filled your heart. jake turned to you, eyes wide with disbelief. “we did it!”

you laughed, breathless, and pulled him into a tight embrace. “that was incredible!”

as you stepped off the stage, adrenaline coursing through your veins, you realized how far you had come together. the challenges only deepened your connection, forging a bond that felt unbreakable.

in the weeks that followed, your relationship continued to grow, solidified by the trust you had built. you faced challenges together, celebrating victories and comforting each other in moments of doubt.

jake often played the song you wrote together, filling your days with music that felt like a promise of forever. “I can’t imagine my life without you,” he said one evening, strumming softly in the dim light of the music room.

“and I can’t imagine my life without your music,” you replied, a smile lighting up your face. “It’s our melody now.”

as graduation approached, the future felt uncertain yet thrilling. “whatever happens, we’ll face it together,” jake vowed, his eyes filled with determination.

“together,” you echoed, heart swelling with love. with each note you played, each lyric you sang, you knew that no matter where life took you, your hearts would always be in tune.

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