#and yet the disappointment persists | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bizarrelovetriangel · 9 days ago

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restless nights.

you get into an argument and they become restless without you by their side.

angst with comfort. apologies for any ooc moments and stubborn mc/reader.

sylus

"I'm not taking you with me."

His words left no room for anymore rebuttals. No matter how persistent you got and what reasoning you gave, Sylus continues to reject your request to join him for the upcoming Onychinus mission.

He's never had a problem with you tagging along before, so why now? You've learned from Luke and Kieran that Sylus will be dealing with one of the most dangerous men they'd ever met, so you wanted to support him. When you brought the topic up to him, all he said was that the setting will be too much for you.

You reassured him that you can handle anything, being a hunter who's familiar with the messiest, most vile types of environment, but regardless of your reasonings, he fully intends to go to this mission alone.

"Okay."

The moment he watched you calmly closed the door on your way out of the room, Sylus knew he fucked up.

You avoided him all afternoon, and it didn't take long for loneliness to strike him hard.

He hated the silence.

Knowing you're under the same roof and yet you're deliberately ignoring him... he'd much rather have you screaming at him.

Sylus remained at his working station to continue modifying a weapon that he'd recently purchased; however, his distracted state prevented him from making progress.

The face you made before walking away from him keeps haunting him.

The disappointment in your eyes made his chest unbearably tight.

He tried to push the uncomfortable feeling away, telling himself that his response to you is for the best, but it didn't work at all.

It was difficult to concentrate on anything else.

He wondered what you were up to.

What if you decide to leave because you can't stand to be near him?

Just imagining you rush out of the house while angry caused Sylus' hands to become unsteady and accidentally crossed some wires that weren't supposed to touch.

And so, the weapon sparked and caught on fire.

"...great."

He decided to move on to boxing, hoping to release some anger — not at you, but for his enemies that he'll be seeing for the upcoming mission. If they weren't so... filthy and gruesome, he wouldn't have to worry about keeping you away from them.

After two minutes of hitting the punching bag, Sylus' eyes started to repeatedly glance towards the entrance of the gym, checking to see if a certain someone would walk in for their weekly boxing lessons.

Your boxing gloves are in the usual place, untouched. He recalled the day when you two bought it while shopping: you were so excited about using it, you woke him up early just so you could start boxing while wearing them.

But now, you won't even step in the gym because he made you upset.

Suddenly, Sylus was no longer in the mood to box.

You didn't join him for dinner.

He wasn't surprised, though he felt another pang at his chest when he sat down on the empty dinning table.

He learned from Luke and Kieran that you had already eaten a little earlier while ranting to Mephisto, who was your only companion for supper.

The crow gave him a questioning look as he flew by and parched on the empty chair next to him, where you usually sit.

"I know. I'm working on it."

Sylus went to his bedroom, hoping that you don't run away and that you hear him out.

But when he opened the door, a cold breeze hit him along with a lonely feeling. The room is empty, and you're nowhere to be found.

He knew you're still somewhere in the house; otherwise, Mephisto would've told him already that you'd left. You staying means he's not totally screwed — not yet, at least.

The only other place he thought to check is the room where you used to sleep in, before your relationship became official.

And sure enough, after calming down his nervous, hitched breath, Sylus knocked on the door.

No response, but the room is unlocked.

He dared to take a peak inside and immediately softened at the sight of you sleeping on the bed. His feet acted before his mind and walked up towards your side.

He sat down on the mattress and his eyes slowly traced the ravishing features of your face that he missed, despite the argument being only just several hours ago.

He yearned to touch you, just for a second, to feel your warmth and softness. His right hand carefully reached towards your face, knuckles aiming to brush against your cheek.

But then, you opened your eyes.

Sylus froze for a moment, waiting for you to tell him to leave and stay away from him, but instead, you just blinked at him with curiosity and a hint of amusement.

"What are you doing?"

"...caught me redhanded." he chuckles. "I was looking at you. Because you wouldn't let me do it while you were awake. Sorry to disturb your peaceful sleep."

You watched his hand that was about to touch your face slowly retract, and you wanted to grab it and embrace it.

"...who said I was sleeping peacefully?"

Sylus looks at you with confusion.

"It's hard for me to sleep whenever we have arguments." you murmured, sitting up slowly so you can look at him properly. "I wanted to see you, but..."

You were sulking all afternoon.

You grew tired of arguing with him and thought you'd eventually find the right words to tell him later on, once you've calmed down.

"Me too." Sylus slowly reached for your hand, almost afraid that you'd pull away, though he relaxed once you intertwined your fingers with his. "Let me tell you why I'm against you accompanying me for this mission."

He told you about the shady people he'll be visiting. They are nasty criminals who have done unforgivable things to people, and everything about them is just disgusting — physically and figuratively.

As much as he wanted your company and assistance, Sylus doesn't want them setting their filthy eyes on you. He doesn't want them to know about your existence at all.

Mostly, he doesn't want to waste your time and energy on people like them. He knows you're strong enough to be by his side and help him take them down, just as you have done a few times before, but he'd much rather keep you away from their dirty hands.

"I understand now." You tightened your grip on his hand. "And still.... I want to go with you."

Though his brows furrowed as a silent reply, he stayed quiet and allowed you to fully let out everything you want to say.

"I appreciate your concern for me, truly. But ever since the twins told me about them, that they're dangerous and full of dirty tricks, I can't help but worry.

You're strong and you definitely don't need me, but still... I asked to go with you because I want to support you, just like how you sometimes help me out with my missions."

Sylus was met with the familiar look of persistence and determination in your eyes and realized he was never going to win this argument.

You've always been stubborn.

But that's just one of the reasons why he's so infauted with you.

You win.

"I should have known better than to try to leave you out of something like this." he sighs in defeat, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose.

You grinned at his tone. "It'll be fine. And fun — maybe. If not, then I'll suffer with you."

He clicked his tongue and poked your forehead. "Fine. But before we go, you have to prove to me that you're capable of fighting them."

"Hmm? Prove to you, how?"

"You'll have to join me in the boxing ring tomorrow, kitten."

You gasped and your eyes lit up. "My gloves! I've abandoned them! Let's go boxing right now!"

"...weren't you just about to sleep?"

"No way! I wanna hit something now! Come on!"

Sylus allowed himself to be dragged out of the room and brought back to the gym, where the boxing ring awaits.

Unlike earlier, the gym appears to be warmer and much more lively.

At last, Sylus can breathe easily.

zayne

Getting scolded by your lover was not how you were expecting your trip to the hospital to go.

He never raised his voice, but the coldness in his tone was what struck you in the chest.

He reprimanded you for being too reckless and careless at work, stating that you need to pay more attention to your surroundings and not throw yourself in danger at any chance you get.

Maybe you caught him in a bad mood, or maybe he was fed up with all the times that he has to see you with injuries. Either way, you didn't feel like being around him for a while.

Later that night, you fell asleep earlier than usual and missed a call from Zayne. You knew you probably should've called him back once you woke up in the morning, but the memory of him scolding you like a child made you throw your phone aside and momentarily avoid him.

Zayne is wide awake and his eyes are glued to the screen of his phone.

For once, he doesn't have work to keep him up late at night. Instead, you're the reason why he's unable to sleep.

You haven't been returning his texts and calls.

He knew you're upset because of what he did at the hospital. He shouldn't have spoken to you like that. You were already hurt. The last thing you needed was for him to give you a lecture over something you don't have much control over.

Zayne wanted to apologize to you.

He considered going to your apartment so he can properly give his sincere apology, but with the way you've been deflecting his attempts to communicate, he figured you wanted some space from him.

It's understandable that you'd feel that way, but still, Zayne can't ignore the aching in his chest. The other side of the bed feels colder than usual, and the silence of his house was uncomfortable.

You should've been next to him, resting your head on his chest while showing him funny memes and videos of cats after playing silly games on your phone, then you'd randomly come across an interesting article that would be your discussion until the two of you fall asleep.

This time, all he can do is keep checking his phone, just in case you decide to text or call him, and he'd answer in a heartbeat.

He wanted to hear your voice just so knows that everything is going to be okay, and that he doesn't need to worry about the possibility of losing you. Unfortunately, he wasn't granted that wish.

He eventually fell asleep with his phone on hand resting on the empty side of the bed.

Zayne was right.

You really are careless.

Showing up at the hospital twice in a week, just two days after your previous visit, is embarrassing at this point. You admit that your mind wasn't as awake and alert as it should've been, and so you've landed yourself another injury while fighting a Wanderer.

You did your best to hide from Zayne.

In fact, you tried going to a different hospital but Tara dropped you off here and fled instantly, so you have no choice but to go in with your slightly injured shoulder.

It just so happens that Doctor Greyson was the one that treated you, as he was the only one currently available.

You thought you'd be able to leave without seeing Zayne at all, but Greyson was unaware of your current situation so he informed him that he just finished fixing you up and you should be free to leave now.

Zayne just finished a long surgery, but once Greyson passed such valuable information to him, he rushed to your assigned room.

He caught you just as you were about to step out.

"Ah!" You put a hand over your racing heart. "You scared me!"

"Sorry." Zayne paused for a moment. "May I ask you to join me in my office?"

Your stomach shifted anxiously. "Sure..." The walk to the location was filled with nothing but awkward silence, which hurt to think about because it's Zayne.

That's the man whom you love more than anything else.

The last thing you want with him is an uncomfortable silence.

At the very least, you were able to gather your courage to own up to your mistakes.

Once he closed the door...

"I'm sorry!"

Zayne was caught off-guard.

"What?"

"You're right. I've been careless lately." Your shoulders sagged as you accepted defeat. "Like my injury today could've been avoided if only I was a little more cautious. I really do need to work on it better. I'm sorry for ignoring your texts and calls. I know you're just looking out for me."

Zayne let out a breath of relief.

He failed to stop himself from pulling you into his arms, so tight that you let out a gasp, though you didn't complain so he didn't release you just yet.

He desperately needed to hold you.

He was afraid that you might not want to see him anymore because of the way he had spoken to you, but it seems he'd gotten a chance to correct himself.

"I'm sorry for talking to you so coldy." He backed away just a small distance so he could look you in the eyes, though his hands remained locked on your elbows. "There are much better ways to express my concerns for you. I won't make the same mistake again. But also..."

He took your left hand and kissed the back of it. "Please don't ever try to hide your injuries from me whenever you do get hurt."

"Ah...." you wondered how he found out you were trying to hide from him today. "Sorry. I won't."

Zayne smiled and kissed your forehead.

"I'll accept your apology, on one condition...."

"What?"

"You have to spend the night and the whole weekend with me now. To make up for the times when you weren't by my side."

caleb

"I did it to protect you."

"And now, the fleet has all the access to the information that I was supposed to get. But yes. I was so fortunate that The Colonel came to my rescue. Thanks."

Caleb sighs as you shut the door and locked yourself in your own room of his house in Safehaven.

It's true that he interfered with your mission and you failed to do what you were sent for, but the man you were interrogating was equipped with a weapon that could've left you permamently injured.

What was he supposed to do?

He wasn't going to just watch and wait for you to get hurt.

The man just happened to be a common enemy of the fleet and the hunters association, and it seems that you've crossed paths for a race on whoever could capture him first.

While you technically reached him first, Caleb was the one that took him away and had him in captive with the fleet.

He figured he could just find that man and get the information you need, though it seems your mission was time sensitive and you were supposed to report to the association by tonight.

While he feels bad about you failing to accomplish your mission, he doesn't regret barging in to stop the enemy from hurting you.

His priority has always been you and it will always be you.

Everything that he's ever done is to protect you, even if you're against it. That's why this isn't the first time you've fought.

Ever since you were younger, you'd sometimes get mad at him for doing something that was intended to keep you out of harm's way.

It's nothing new.

Still, no matter how many times it happens, Caleb will always hate the feeling of you being upset with him.

He especially cannot stand it when you pretend he doesn't exist. He'd rather you hit him as hard as you can than act as if you don't see him. Otherwise, what other purpose does he have, if not to provide for you and be by your side?

Caleb made dinner for two, but he's the only one in the dinning room, sitting across an empty chair. It's dead silent aside from the noise of the flying vehicles roaming around outside his house.

He already put food in your plate and filled you a glass of juice, just in case you give in to his attempt to lure you out with the delicious smell of tonight's meal.

Caleb took his time eating. He had sent you texts, with lots of stickers, telling you that dinner is ready and that you can come out of your room now, though not a single message had gotten a reply.

His eyes would constantly dart to your closed door, hoping that it would open and you'd stubbornly come out with a pout on your face, just like what you always do ever since you were little.

He wasn't so lucky tonight.

But that doesn't mean he'll let you starve. You can be mad at him, but at the very least, be angry with a full stomach.

Caleb picked up your plate and drink and set it down on the floor right outside your room.

"Pip-squeak." He knocked a couple of times. "It's fine if you don't want to see me. You don't have to forgive me, but please eat something before you sleep. I'll leave the food outside the door."

He paused for a moment, as an apology almost slipped out of his tongue, though he wants to do it properly when you're face-to-face, so he will wait for a better time.

"Goodnight."

Afterwards, Caleb took a long bath before going to bed. You two had plans to watch movies tonight after your mission, but that was definitely not going to happen now. He had no idea things would end like how it did, and now he's staring at a wall feeling empty.

Around midnight, you quietly stepped out of your room. You brought the dirty, empty dishes back in the kitchen so you can wash them and return them in the storage.

Five steps in the dark kitchen and you almost drop the fragile items on your hands.

There's something lurking in the shadows.

"Ah!"

Your right hand swung up to hit the figure that started to walk towards you, ready to hit them with the plate.

The object was caught easily and snatched right out off your fingers. The light switch clicked and soon your eyes had been greeted by bright white light.

And you learned that the figure that had been bathing in darkness is none other than Caleb, who looked just as freaked out as you.

"Why are you still awake?!" you screeched, putting a hand over your pounding heart. "Why are you out here just standing in the dark like some demon?!"

"I wasn't standing in darkness. I was sitting." he huffs, putting the plate on the counter table. "And I should be asking you the same thing, Pip-squeak. Why are you awake?!"

His eyes suddenly widened and his shoulders stiffened.

"You're...not gonna leave, are you?"

He looked like a sad, kicked puppy that made you feel like a super villain.

"No, I'm not leaving." you replied softly, taking a step closer to him after setting down the empty glass of juice on the counter table. "I was just going to wash these... dinner was delicious.... by the way..."

Caleb let out a sigh of relief before a smile came to his face. "I'm glad you liked it. If you still have room in your stomach, wanna go for dessert? I still have some of the ice cream that you bought last time."

Your eyes lit up at the mention of the sweet dessert. "Yes!"

As the two of you enjoyed the ice cream, Caleb took the opportunity to talk about what happened.

"I'll admit that I don't regret interferring with your work to save you from getting hurt." he started slowly, watching you just in case your mood flips again. "But I am sorry for getting you in trouble."

You shook your head. "I'm over it now, but... you have to remember that I'm also capable of dealing with dangerous guys. I may get hurt, but it's part of my job. You don't have to jump out and save me every time, even though I appreciate it and you, every time."

Caleb sighs, recalling you repeating similar words to him before.

He really does jump out of nowhere to save you a lot — in fact, anytime he can, he does it.

"You're right. I know you've gotten strong, Pip-squeak." he grinned, patting your head. "I'll be sure to remember it. But also, you have to remember... worrying about you is part of my job. That'll never change, even if you become the greatest superhero of the deepspace."

"Heh."

You can't help but laugh because it's true.

That is just how Caleb is.

And it's one of the things that you love about him, despite all the times he pissed you off by being over protective.

"If I become the greatest superhero of Deepspace, will you bring me more ice cream?"

Caleb laughs at your empty bowl. "All you have to do is ask and I shall obey, Pip-squeak."

Once drowsiness finally hit you, you returned to bed and this time, Caleb made sure to cling to you the entire time.

rafayel

You'd been extremely busy for almost two weeks because of a big, intricate mission. It left you very little time to rest, and absolutely no time to go out with your lover.

But once you finally got some freedom, the first thing you did was give him a call, asking him out for lunch.

"It's okay, Miss Bodyguard. You don't have to see me if you don't want to. I know you've been really busy to make any time for me."

Maybe he was just joking or being dramatic as usual, but something about his tone rubbed you the wrong way.

"Okay then. Bye."

The moment the call ended, Rafayel wanted to throw his phone at the wall.

Why did he say that?

He'll admit that he has been sulking, disappointed that he hasn't seen you for days; however, he knows it's not your fault. You're just doing your job, after all.

His mood hasn't been the best lately, and he ended up saying the wrong thing to you. Now, he scared you away from him even more.

He wanted to see you and apologize, but you sounded quite mad and he's certain you don't want to see him at the moment, so it's probably best to leave you alone for now.

Thomas entered the studio and almost tripped over a paintbrush on the floor. The place is even messier than before.

He found Rafayel lying on the couch, wide wake and staring at the ceiling.

"Your studio's getting way too messy. Maybe you should clean up a little."

"It's fine. No one's going to come over anyways."

Thomas was quick to notice his dispirited tone. Rafayel already seemed lonely last week, but this time his mood seems worse.

Another proof of that is the lack of progress on the paintings.

"You haven't started anything new yet?"

"I haven't had any inspiration."

The one hint that Thomas got about what was bringing Rafayel down is the yellow bird plushie right next to him, who he may or may not have been talking to.

"So, it's your Miss Hunter, isn't it?"

It's happened a couple of times before. You two have gotten into arguments before and it usually ends in the same way, with Rafayel sulking like this. This time, it might've lasted longer than usual.

"I don't know what happened, but I suggest seeing her and talking it out."

"I know that. But if she doesn't want to see me.... what if she starts screaming and hitting me when I'm there?"

Or worse, you tell him you hate him.

His stomach tightened with discomfort just by thinking about it.

Thomas chuckles lightly. "So what? You can take it, can't you? Then again, she is a hunter.... and she could kill you...."

Rafayel frowned and froze for a moment.

Then, he suddenly rolls over and drops to the floor before jumping to his feet. "Thomas, you're a genius!" he exclaims, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him vigorously. "I don't care if she stabs me with her sword! I'd survive. but... if I go on another day withour seeing her, I might actually die for real..."

"Hh — sure, I guess..."

"I'm gonna go see her now!"

Thomas watched as he started to scramble and sprint out of the room. "Wait, you should clean up first before — "

"Ow! Who put this paint brush here?!"

You opened the door and Rafayel immediately shields his face with his hands, as if to protect himself from you.

"....I don't know what's going on but I'm a little offended."

You wanted to laugh but you reminded yourself that you're still mad at him.

Or at least, you were.

The moment Rafayel showed up at your doorstep, all you want to do is hug him.

"If you're gonna stab me, do it quickly but at least wait until I say sorry first so it doesn't sound like I'm using my last, dying breath to make it up to you. I mean, I would do that too if I must, but I'd prefer if I don't sound pathetic and gross."

"...what?"

Rafayel pulled himself together and held both of your hands.

"I'm sorry for what I said. I promise I didn't mean it at all. I just missed you a lot and... I.... I might've been...a little grumpy because of it... but I still shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I'm really sorry."

You softened and held his hands tighter. "I'm sorry too, for snapping so fast and running away. I also wasn't in the best mood."

Rafayel didn't waste another second before pulling you into his arms.

"Let's not do that again. It's stupid and silly and boring."

"Agreed."

He buried his face against your neck and held you tighter for a little longer while your fingers brush his hair from the back.

Rafayel took a moment to feel your warmth.

You're here, right in front of him, after days that felt like months.

Letting you go will be extremely difficult.

"Miss Bodyguard...."

"Yeah?"

"Do you wanna come to my house? Reddie misses you...

"Just Reddie?"

"...well, I missed you way more, but you can spare him five minutes of attention. But that's it. The rest of your time is mine."

xavier

For your latest mission, Jenna paired you up with a new hunter that just joined your team. She said she wanted him to learn from you, so he became your temporary partner.

Xavier wasn't quite happy with the captain's decision.

Jenna never said he couldn't join you, right? The new guy can keep following you, but that doesn't mean he has to be alone with you.

Fast forward to the end of the mission, Xavier had been so focused on making sure the new guy keeps a fair distance from you, and the newbie almost got hurt.

You took responsibility and jumped in at the very last moment to save him, leaving you with a minor scratch on your left arm. Nonetheless, the mission was a success.

You confronted Xavier afterwards. You didn't care at all about the scratch, but you were more concerned with him letting his jealousy get in the way of the mission.

Captain Jenna scolded him about not following orders. Although she never specified that he couldn't join you, he still messed with the plan that the team discussed early on. Luckily, he's not deeply in trouble: he'd only been warned not to do it again.

You mostly repeated what Jenna said, but you also told Xavier that he shouldn't have gone out of his way to physically keep your temporary partner away from you, and that you wished he trusted you a little more, especially in a professional environment.

Xavier was unable to come up with a response and like always, whenever he's jealous, dark clouds appeared all around him as he sulks.

You didn't feel like cradling him at the moment, mostly because you felt tired from the mission, and you needed to cool your ahead after all that happened.

You went straight to your apartment after work. Soon after taking a shower, you landed on your bed and welcomed a nap.

Xavier anxiously paces back and forth in his apartment.

He knows you're sleeping because of the fitness watch app that you both use. He decided that he'll wait until you wake up before apologizing, so at the mean time, he's practicing in his head what he'll be saying to you.

You two rarely have arguments because he'd learned to be more straightforward with his thoughts and feelings, but when jealousy comes into play, he still struggles to contain himself. He's working on it, but he's having quite a slow progress.

He'll admit that he might have gone a little overboard today, and he hated that his actions led to you getting hurt, even if it's just a scratch. If only he hadn't gotten in the way.

"...I'm going now."

Unable to wait any longer, Xavier teleports out of his apartment and appears on your balcony — it's become a habit of his.

He found you sleeping on the couch of your living room.

Xavier walked up to you quietly and covered your body with the throw bunched up by your feet. He knelt down on the carpeted floor and admired your features.

He knew he shouldn't get jealous so easily, but how could he not?

He's so deeply in love with you, he can't help but act irrationally sometimes.

But even more, he despises whenever you're upset with him and because of him, so he knows he can't keep behaving drastically all the time whenever another person who shows an ounce of admiration for you comes around.

"You smell like burnt cookies."

Xavier snapped out of his thoughts only to realize that you had woken up.

He took a whiff of his white hoodie and confirmed your observation. "I tried to make you some cookies to make up for earlier but I got distracted and forgot about them...."

And by distracted, he means pacing back and forth across the kitchen while writing his apology speech in his head.

"Pfftt.."

Xavier scratched the back of his head while you laughed loudly. His eyes lit up at the sight of your joy on your face.

"I'm sorry about your cookies." he sighs. "And I'm sorry for acting the way I did earlier. I promise I'll... try not to get jealous..."

You laughed again, this time softer as you leaned forward to brush his hair with your fingers. "The truth is, I don't mind that you get jealous sometimes. Even I get jealous too."

"Really?"

"Really."

He never notices you secretly being bitter whenever someone is clearly attracted to him, though you never act out on your jealousy because he always reassures you that he only has eyes for you.

"It's normal to get jealous." you told him. "But next time.... just make sure not to step out of line and get yourself or anyone innocent in trouble."

Xavier nodded and kissed the palm of your hand that had been combing his hair. "I promise I'll be more responsible from now on."

You smiled and pecked his nose.

"The smell of cookies really got me. Wanna try again? I'll help you this time."

"I'd like that. But first...." he rested his face onto your lap. "Can we just stay like this for a little while? I think I need to recharge."

Your hand returns to combing his soft hair. "Of course."

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shotmrmiller · 8 months ago

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ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.

soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)

interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?

"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."

soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.

"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.

soap nods. "ah'll be there."

"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."

yeah, he'd hate to have that.

soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.

maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.

"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.

simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"

soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."

the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.

you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.

"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."

you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."

your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-

"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"

he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.

"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."

you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.

"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"

#this got away from me sorry yall!!!#yeah i had so debated having ghost be like nope pricentaught ya better than that but #simon seems the type to get things done on the first time #either you learn or your arsecheeks learn #something will give soon enough #price says he's coming back for seconds tomorrow #kyle gets his on saturday #all for one strikes AGAIN i'm afraid #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #x f!reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #soaps shaken after in the group chat like yall uh yall got dessert too or-#simon ghost riley smut

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cosmicpuzzle · 4 months ago

Text

Saturn ‎‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧in Houses

Saturn in 1st House

You have a serious personal manner and can come across to others as cool and reserved. Generally, you don't speak or act without good reason or intention. You are naturally prudent and careful, with good self-control and self-discipline. Your early life may have been difficult, with hardships or limitations to overcome. Yet, you have the power to achieve positions of prominence and responsibility in life through sheer hard work and perseverance. At times, you can be too serious and given to bouts of discontentment and gloominess. You tend not to suffer fools easily.

Saturn in 2nd House

Financial success and wealth comes through good old-fashioned hard work and effort. You find out from an early age that you get what you work for and that there are no free lunches. As a rule, you tend to be cautious and careful with regard to spending money and investing. Deep down, you have a fear of poverty, especially in later life and will take steps to make yourself as financially secure as possible. At times, you can be frugal and stingy.

Saturn in 3rd House

You are a deep and contemplative thinker, who is capable of profound thought and mental concentration. You have good reasoning powers and may demonstrate the ability for scientific thought or mathematics. However, you may lack intellectual confidence or experience disruptions in your early education. You are a serious person with little interest in idle chatter or light conversation. Relations with siblings or neighbours can be strained at times.

Saturn in 4th House

Your home and family life are very important to you; however there can be difficulties attaining domestic harmony and security. You may experience hardship in your place of birth, which is only alleviated by moving to another locality or country. There could be difficulties in your relationship with one or both of your parents, with the possibility of physical or emotional separation from the father in particular. Also, you may have to take responsibility for an aged parent. Personal wisdom comes with age and maturity.

Saturn in 5th House

Your romantic life has its challenges; there may be delays, disappointments and restricted opportunities in your love life, with experiences of emotional coolness and sexual dissatisfaction. However, attractions to those who are older or more mature can lead to stable and lasting relationships. Difficulties may be experienced in having or relating to children and there may be a tendency to be too strict or formal with them. Creative and social skills are acquired through effort and determination. Financial speculations should be approached cautiously.

Saturn in 6th House

You take your work seriously and are a stickler for correct procedure. You have little tolerance for shirkers in the workplace. At times, there can be difficulties with employment matters. If you are an employer, you may experience problems with staff, such as losses, deception and unreliability. You may experience health problems through inadequacies in your diet, or through worry or overwork

Saturn in 7th House

You view relationships with others seriously and realistically. You have a strong sense of responsibility towards others and desire fairness in your dealings with people. Marriage or significant partnerships tend to be stable and enduring. Equally, however, coolness or emotional remoteness within marriage can lead to difficulties, feelings of loneliness and separation. You may be attracted to others of a wide age difference to you. Possibly, a partner may be obstructive, critical and uncooperative. Opponents or enemies can be persistent and relentless; and legal difficulties may be experienced.

Saturn in 8th House

The financial affairs of your personal or professional partners are likely to be an ongoing source of concern or worry for you. It is possible that a partner may experience problems or struggles with money, or cause you personal financial difficulties. Tax matters or inheritances may be a burden and if mishandled could possibly result in legal action. Loans from banks or lending institutions may not be easily obtained.

Saturn in 9th House

You may develop a serious interest in higher learning, philosophy, law and metaphysical knowledge and diligently apply yourself to their study. You tend to have strong convictions, either for or against, spiritual and religious beliefs. Age and life-experience can bring wisdom, but this is dependent on your attitude and handling of life's challenges. You could experience troubles and loss through legal disputes and difficulties may be encountered during long distance travel.

Saturn in 10th House

Vocational matters are of supreme importance to you, and you'll work hard to achieve your professional ambitions. You may experience obstructions in your career, but these can be overcome with perseverance and endurance. Your desire to attain success and positions of power and authority is strong and realizable. However, the potential for a fall from grace or a reversal in fortune is just as strong, if you abuse your position.

Saturn in 11th House

You can be a bit of a loner and sometimes feel uncomfortable in social situations. You tend not to make friends easily; however you have the ability to cultivate genuine and long lasting friendships through sincere effort and steadfast loyalty. You can gain through the patronage and goodwill of older and experienced benefactors. Take care that you don't fall victim to false or deceitful acquaintances.

Saturn in 12th House

You are an intensely private person, who needs frequent seclusion and time out from the demands and pressures of life. You work at your best behind-the-scenes and can be involved with institutions, such as hospitals, universities or government departments. In general, you tend not to be overly concerned with the need for public recognition, preferring instead a quiet and simple life if possible. You may suffer from inexplicable fears and anxieties, and possibly at the hands of false friends or secret enemies. On occasion, you can literally feel confined or restricted.

For Readings DM

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kykyonthemoon · 1 year ago

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How to babysit a wounded little Hunter

Injured after a mission, you now indulge yourself in his special tender loving care.

ಇ. Character x Female Reader fanfic,

including Caleb, Rafayel, Xavier and Zayne

ಇ. Tags: fluff, domestic fluff, early stage of established relationship

A little heads up: The writer will not take responsibility for any side effect (such as toothache) that might come after reading the fic.

ಇ. Word count: 4k

ಇ. Requested by Wytchie Pie and x

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic ♡

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃

You dimly sensed footsteps in the bedroom, and then one side of the bed sank. The acquainted scent and warmth embraced you. A cool hand rested on your forehead. In an instant, the heat in your body subsided.

So as soon as that hand was gone, you seized it.

"Don't go…"

You mumbled in a daze. There was a quiet laugh close to your ear, and then that palm brushed against your forehead again.

"If you don't let go, how can I take your temperature then, pipsqueak?"

You recognized that voice. It was Caleb's. So you acted even more aggressively. You yanked his hand tighter, so much so that his entire body appeared to collapse into the bed, just a little above yours.

"Huh? Aren't you a little too strong for someone who is sick?" Caleb laughed again. The sort of laughter that made you feel considerably better.

"I'm not sick." You were persistent, still. "Just feeling a little sleepy."

Caleb's hand tried to pull away from you. But perhaps he kept it that way on purpose, since given your current state, he would have no problem withdrawing if he truly wanted you to let go.

Caleb's hand patted you a little tenderly. He managed to grab the thermometer with his free hand. He took your temperature, then exclaimed:

"Almost forty Celsius!"

You exhaled heavily, almost a moan. Every part of you felt irritated and heated. Despite this, you dismissed it, saying:

"I'm not... sick..."

Caleb used the chance to release his wrist from you. You opened your eyes slightly and gave him a disappointed expression.

"You have such a high fever, yet still saying you're not sick?" Caleb mumbled, but you caught every word. He handed you medicine, but you did not take it.

"Too bitter." You said.

"Quit whining. "Just take it and go to sleep."

"If I take it… you'll have to stay here with me, okay?"

Caleb sighed. "Only until you sleep, pipsqueak."

You smiled faintly and fast to accept the pills from Caleb's hand. You clutched his hand securely as you drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the Wanderers, the escapes, and the secrets in which you were a part of. Then, when you woke up again, you noticed Caleb seated beside the bed.

“You're awake now, pipsqueak?” He smiled at you. He was rather relieved. He put a hand on your forehead again. “Yup. No more fever."

Caleb's presence seemed to chase the nightmares away. You removed his hand from your forehead and held it tightly.

“How long have I been sleeping?”

"Let's see…" Caleb brushed his chin. "When you arrived home last night, you went to bed right away. You got a high temperature around early morning. From the time you took the medicine and fell asleep until now, I've finished a whole movie, cooked a delicious pot of porridge, and measured your temperature three times."

"What nonsense are you talking about?"

Caleb laughed. He squeezed your hand once. "You've just been asleep for a few hours. But it is past noon now. Are you hungry?"

You shook your head.

"Are you sure?" Caleb asked again. "I made a super delicious pork rib porridge for you though."

You opened your eyes wide and looked at him. Pork rib porridge was a dish he would often cook when you were sick and no longer in a mood to eat anything. That dish always helped you feel better, even just hearing about it was enough to make you crave food again.

"Pork rib porridge…"

You could only whisper that much when Caleb pressed the tip of your nose and said:

“I knew right away that you couldn't resist food.”

A minute later, the room was filled with the aroma of a still-hot bowl of porridge. Caleb put it on a little tray over the bed. You lay back against the cushion, staring at the meal in front of you as if it were a rare delicacy, despite the fact that the ingredients were absolutely basic.

You looked over at Caleb. He was observing you. "What's wrong? Still no appetite?"

“It's too hot��” You pouted. “Besides,… both my arms and body are aching…”

It took a quite difficult mission in extreme weather, and a high fever to receive special care at your bedside. How could you not enjoy it?

Caleb read you right away. He said: “What? The Hunter in Linkon wants me to feed her? Weren't you delirious this morning, saying you had to go fight off Wanderers?”

“When did I say that? But it's okay if you don't help me. I don't want to eat anymore.”

“Are you still a three-year-old then?”

Even though he grumbled, Caleb still smiled very gently. He scooped a spoonful of porridge, blew on it to cool down, then held it out to you.

You opened your mouth really wide, making him chuckle. When he saw that you were eating well, Caleb felt relieved. He teased:

"I thought you're a grown-up now and wouldn't need me to take care of you anymore."

You replied, still with a mouthful of pork rib porridge: "When you lose your cooking skills, I won't really need you anymore then."

Caleb laughed aloud. He patted your head and said: "I didn’t expect my vacation to turn into a part-time job for babysitting. If I catch a fever from you, you must take care of me in return.”

You rose up in a sudden and pressed your still-hot face into the crook of Caleb's neck, nearly dropping the porridge spoon.

“Then I’ll cook pork rib porridge for you. Just heads-up though, even if it tastes yucky, you must eat it all!”

𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

The door to the hospital room opened. Rafayel's curly purple hair appeared. And immediately, your phone lit up with a text message from Thomas:

[The little devil is coming for you. Sorry, I did my best.]

You exhaled. Clearly, he had not done his best. That was why Rafayel was here, staring at you with such a deep gaze from the entrance.

"Er… "Hello, Rafayel..." You waved your arm, attempting to greet him with a warm smile.

"Rafayel?" He frowned. "Do you still remember that we know each other?"

"Huh? Why did you...?" You left your sentence incomplete as Rafayel surged inside. He placed his hands on his hips, his expression filled with slanderous words as he accused you.

"Who are you? Do I know you? It's been eight hundred years. Jellyfishes are walkin' naked. Sea turtles climb trees. Sharks are eatin' grass for free! And finally, you remembered me?"

You frowned. Why was there something that rang so familiar with this scenario? Yet it was still off.

“Rafayel, I—”

“When are you going to tell me you're hurt?”

Rafayel pointed a finger directly to your shoulder, where the white bandage was visible through the hospital gown. That was the real reason he was precisely distressed.

“Even Thomas knew you were injured. Yet you didn't say a word to me?! You left me waiting alone for three hours at the exhibition. I can't believe you stood me up!”

You lifted your hand, intending to remind Rafayel to keep his voice down because you were both in the hospital. But he gave you no opportunity to speak.

"Do you realize how scared I was? When Thomas told me you couldn't come, I thought about all the things that could happen to you!”

"Rafayel…" You finally found a chance to interrupt him. “Let's calm down first. I didn't mean to hide it from you, it's just... I haven't told you yet..."

Rafayel crossed his arms. He was still irritated.

“I can't believe it! You deliberately manipulated me with your innocence so that I would let you get away this time!”

You felt dizzy in the head, and your ears were ringing with Rafayel's nagging words and accusations. The injured one was you. Why did you feel as if you had just committed a great sin?

"ARGHHH!" You shouted and clutched your bandaged shoulder. "It hurts!"

Rafayel quickly forgot the rage in his heart. He moved right away to the bed and gently raised your arm. His eyes were full of concern and anxiety.

“Are you hurt? I'll call the doctor here right away!”

You grasped Rafayel's hand, urging him to stay with you.

“See? I'm still very strong. Just a little hurt."

"How much is a little?" Rafayel frowned. You could feel his hot glare on your shoulder, soaking into the bandage and searing your wound.

"… This much." You clasped your thumb and index finger to form a circle, then held it up for Rafayel to see. He grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest.

"I don't believe you anymore." He continued to speak with a condescending tone. "I have to check it out with my own eyes."

"Huh? What do you mean?…” You suddenly blushed. Rafayel looked at you with serious eyes, yet very sincere. He replied:

“Your wound. I want to see it."

The mere notion of Rafayel wanting to look behind your garments made your cheeks flame. You withdrew your hand and refused:

“I told you I'm fine… Don't make such a scene…”

“If I don't see it, how can I be sure you're not lying to me? This isn't the first time you've hidden your injuries..."

That was all Rafayel said. You gazed at him for a second. Aside from being concerned about you, he was also saddened since you had repeatedly hidden your wounds from him. A great deal when you did not want to bother him, he always found out and became much more frustrated.

"Alright then…"

Eventually, you had to give in. You turned your back to Rafayel and carefully slipped the shirt collar down your shoulder, displaying the neatly wrapped bandages around your torso.

You could see your reflection in the front window. Your face turned crimson. And Rafayel stood next to the bed, attentively investigating you, his fingers softly caressing the gauze, causing you to bow slightly in pain as well as anxiousness.

“Yet you said it was just a little wound.” Rafayel muttered. It was his hand that drew your collar back up. And the next thing you knew, you were upgraded to the best room at the hospital.

You weren't used to how wealthy people spent their money. You looked at Rafayel, who had constantly been by your side during your hospital stay. He requested you to remain in the most advanced hospital room, with the greatest level of care. More than that, he refused to leave your side even when you asked to be alone.

"You don't have to do this, Rafayel." You spoke as he was peeling the fruit for you.

"Open your mouth." He handed you a slice of mango. Even if your lips stated it wasn't required, you nevertheless welcomed all of his attention.

"I'm serious…" As soon as you finished swallowing the mango, he gave you another slice. "Really, um... This mango is truly delicious..."

"Do you crave anything else?" Rafayel purposely ignored every time you told him he didn't need to stay there all day and night to care for you. Your wound had improved significantly.

“I think I can be discharged from hospital and get back to work now…” You said. “I don't want to bother you anymore…”

"What's that?" Rafayel pretended not to hear you. “I think I heard the sound of abalone porridge just being delivered to the hospital. Let me go grab it.”

You sighed. Another expensive meal he had prepared for you. But you knew how much you would miss these things when you left the hospital at last and could no longer benefit from his tender loving care.

“Maybe I'll stay here one more day... You're spoiling me too much...” You muttered beneath your breath, but Rafayel overheard everything. He pinched your cheek and responded:

“You're staying because of the delicious food, not because of my devoted service? This is so heartbreaking! Then, after you've recovered, I'll make you repay everything. You have to work overtime as my bodyguard too!"

𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓

You crept along the hospital's vacant rear door. You were just hospitalized in the afternoon due to an injury suffered while on job. Even though the doctor advised you to stay for additional examination, you believed the damage was minor. On top of that, the mission was not yet over. You needed to get back to headquarters.

Unfortunately, your escape did not go well. You ran into a familiar shoulder before you could complete the corridor.

"X-Xavier?" You became pale, but not because of the pain. It was only that you were astonished and a little ashamed when caught red-handed.

His look was incredibly complicated, ranging from apprehensive to serious and somewhat furious.

"Where are you going?" he inquired.

You didn't dare to reveal the truth, so you invented an excuse: "Ah... well... The hospital room is quite boring, so I decided to go for a stroll."

"From the back door?"

"Er… I heard the nurse say this is a quicker shortcut to the garden..."

Xavier gazed at you for some time. You clutched your hand tight, terrified that he would not believe that ridiculous excuse. Yet, Xavier nodded at you: "Then let's go together."

Before you could respond, Xavier grabbed your hand and led you outside. It was night time, the wind blew, sending you a slight chill. Xavier took off his coat and draped it over your shoulders. That incredibly gentle gesture made you feel more guilty than ever for lying to him.

“Lead the way.” He told you shortly. For some reason, you had the impression that he was in extreme anger over you.

During the stroll, you didn't dare to speak, and Xavier did the same. He strolled close to you, as if keeping watch rather than walking together. You wandered about for a long time, but there was no trace of the hospital's garden anywhere. Xavier continued to follow your every step in such silence. Him being like that evoked even more guilt in your heart.

At last, you couldn't take it any longer and had to confess: "Xavier... Actually... The truth is, I don't know where the garden is..."

At that point, he spoke up and asked: "So why did you leave your hospital room?"

You didn't dare look into his eyes, so you just stammered an explanation: "Ah... My injury is nothing to be concerned about... That's why I... planned to return to headquarters..."

You noticed Xavier's hands clenching into fists. Fearing he'd be upset, you added: "The doctor also said my injury wasn't too serious— Ah!"

Xavier abruptly pulled your wrist, causing the wound on your arm to hurt. He read through your face which was miserable but still faking a smile. His voice turned sharp:

“If I hadn't caught you, would you really have sneaked away from the hospital?”

Your body convulsed in pain, but you were more concerned about Xavier's rage. You said, "I'm sorry... I was wrong... I'll return to the hospital room right now..."

"Good." Xavier responded curtly. Then he quickly leaned down and held you up in the attitude of a princess being carried.

"W-What are you doing, Xavier?"

"Let's take you back to the hospital room." His expression remained frigid, making you both terrified and embarrassed to be carried by him in such a manner.

Xavier did not return to the same path you had taken. Instead, he took you into the front entrance, where many people, including patients and hospital staff, could see you.

"Xavier? You... put me down! "They are looking at us!"

"I want them to see, so they know you intend to escape the hospital and will monitor you more closely."

Your cheeks became scarlet with humiliation. You swore you saw a kid pointing at you and chuckling, "Mom! I want to be carried like that princess, too!"

And you swore you saw Xavier smirking at that.

After an embarrassing journey, you finally arrived at your room. Xavier set you down on the bed. He chose to remain silent with you as punishment for your unsuccessful escape. You saw him sitting in the corner of the room, peeling a red apple for you.

“Xavier?”

You called out, but he didn't look at you and just replied curtly:

“Rest.”

“Are you angry with me?…”

Xavier's silence revealed the answer. You groaned and pulled the warm cover up high, as if to conceal yourself away from Xavier's rage, but he remained as quiet as a cloudless sky.

When he finished with the apple, he brought it over and gave you a slice. "Eat."

You did not enjoy this cold and distant demeanor of Xavier. If he was upset with you, he should have expressed it directly. You knew it was your fault, and he was so concerned about you that he got mad when you lied to him like that.

"Xavier, I'm sorry…" Your hands seized Xavier's wrist, which was clutching the apple slice. Your eyes widened as much as possible, even giving the impression that you were going to cry.

In the end, the ploy worked. His gaze had softened completely. He placed the plate of apples on the bed and used his other hand to elevate your chin a little. He said: "If you know your fault, then obediently eat all of these and rest."

His hand softly separated your lips, and his other hand inserted a slice of apple for you to eat. You were back in the sunshine, coaxing him to sit on the bed next to you.

"I'll give you three days to recover." Xavier spoke, his voice still agitated, but you could feel his boundless care and love.

"Then I shall bother you to watch over me for a few more days!"

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆

You had just returned to your private cabin at the icy mountain base when you heard a tap at the door. You answered the door, wondering who was seeking for you at this hour, and there was Doctor Zayne, holding a first-aid kit while standing outside.

“Zayne?” Your eyes caught the blood on his face and neck. Snow adhered to his dark hair. You took a step back and allowed him inside. "Why are you here?"

Your team had accepted the mission of rescuing people caught in an avalanche created by a group of Wanderers on the mountain. You had learnt that a team of physicians from Akso Hospital was also on their way. But you did not expect to see Zayne here.

Zayne set the first aid pack on the table and then turned to you. He went on to say: "I'm here to do my duty as a doctor."

You widened your eyes and inquired him again, "Your duty as a doctor?"

Zayne pointed to your abdomen, which was soaked from your own blood oozing through the gauze you had recklessly covered earlier.

"Oh dear…" You cried out. You were so engaged in battles that you didn't have time to look at your wound. Your head began spinning as a result of excessive blood loss.

Zayne's powerful arms directed and assisted you to the table. He put you to the wooden table and took a chair to sit in front of you.

"Doctor Zayne, what are you going to do?"

You noted this when you found his hand on the hem of your shirt. He seemed to want to lift it up.

"Treating you."

You knew that. But you were still extremely nervous when thinking that he was about to lift up your shirt. So your hand was still securely grasping his, preventing him from moving any further.

“I've already bandaged it. A nurse also helped me stitch up the wound earlier..."

During the turmoil, you recalled being stabbed in the abdomen. A nurse assisted you in stitching it up, but because there were so many others with more serious injuries, you let her tend to them while you put bandages over yourself and returned to the battlefield. Perhaps your clumsiness caused the wound to bleed a great deal more.

Zayne used his other hand to remove yours before pulling your shirt up. The gauze surrounding your abdomen was drenched in blood. He slowly withdrew it as you writhed in pain and embarrassment.

"Try to sit still for a bit, will you?"

Zayne's soothing voice burst out, calming you down a lot. You sat on the table, your hands lifting your body up while you looked down at the doctor who was treating your wound. The fact that you had to display your skin beneath his gaze made you uneasy and desire to cover your face. But Zayne was quite professional. He remained silent and entirely concentrated on his work. He cleansed the wound and applied a new layer of gauze. His warm breath occasionally wafted against your skin, causing you to tremble slightly. Even when his frigid fingers touched you, it seemed like you were being scorched.

"It's done."

Zayne said after fixing the new layer of gauze. You were a little discontent when his fingers left you. You were ready to pull your top back down when Zayne lightly rubbed his fingers against your abdomen.

“Ouch!” Even though the place he touched was not wounded, you were still startled and embarrassed.

“Just checking it again.” Zayne elaborated. He had you sitting on the table, your bandaged abdomen at his eye level. You could feel his stare through the gauze, pausing a bit too long in areas that were not covered by anything.

“Doctor Zayne… Are you done now?”

You attempted to keep your speech cool, but your crimson cheeks could have given you away. Zayne appeared to flash a little smile. You felt the icy sensation of his fingertip on your skin again as he slid it beneath the hem of your shirt, then pulled it back down.

"I am now." He answered while returning the supplies to the first aid kit. "Don't be so reckless next time. You have to care for yourself first before you can save others.”

"Hold on." You stopped him. You altered your position and stared into his eyes. "You always say so, but can you actually do what you say?"

Zayne tilted his head to look at you. You took advantage of the moment and raised his chin to have a better look. He had a minor cut on his forehead, and the blood on his body was most likely someone else's.

"You rushed here to take care of me, while you, yourself, are in this condition."

You spoke. His hand found your wrist.

"I barely got a few scrapes. Not as concerning as someone who rushed into the battlefield with a bleeding stomach."

"Whether the wound is big or small, it can be critical." You stated precisely what Dr. Zayne told you whenever he saw you injured, even if it was only a little cut.

Realizing that he had just tasted his own medicine, Zayne let out a small laugh. Then he tugged your hand, causing you to almost lean towards him. He gazed into your eyes for quite a while.

"So, my doctor, will you treat me?"

You blushed again. Zayne relinquished his hand, allowing you to properly wipe the blood off his face. You had to confess that you were a little awkward, owing to your unexpected closeness to Zayne in such a private and calm setting. He probably could hear your heart racing. He supported your hand which was holding a sterilized cotton pad and said:

"If you want to become a skilled doctor, in situations like this you must be even calmer."

"I'm not as professional as Dr. Zayne." You answered with a little caustic tone. "You were able to treat my wound so calmly just now."

Zayne gazed at you for an instant. His face remained calm, but his eyes were not.

"I'm a skilled doctor. Yet, it doesn’t imply that I wouldn't feel anything while treating the girl I like in such a... condition."

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sagelasters · 8 months ago

Text

barbados is a mindset

“Yes. You are now in Barbados. And so… you see Barbados, and you see America from Barbados, and you can smell the tropical land of Barbados, see only the little homes of Barbados, and that’s all you do. You just simply sleep this night in Barbados.” - Abdullah tells Neville.

Before Neville Goddard knew of the law and practiced it, his country was plunged in a state of instability. Poverty runs rampant as the global stock market crashes, sparking panic and leaving many penniless. Neville explained the vivid details of homeless people scattered all over tunnels and city square, eyes void of hope for the future. He was unemployed just like millions of others, his career as a dancer wasn’t enough to support his living. Neville lived in a basement for years with little to no income until one day, he met his friend, Abdullah.

Abdullah was well-off and is the son of the US secretary of the Treasury, who served under the 32nd president. The differences between them were large and Neville was aware of it. He confided in his friend and told him that he has this haunting desire to visit Barbados again. The only thing that was stopping Neville though, was the lack of money. In which Abdullah says,

“You are in Barbados.”

Of course, Neville thought he was nuts but the man decided to try and assume that he was in Barbados. That night, he went to sleep thinking that he would wake up in Barbados, only to be disappointed that he woke up in the cold basement he called his home. Neville would come back and tell Abdullah that it didn’t work, only for the latter to ignore him. Despite that Neville kept persisting and on the morning of December, he got a letter from his older brother asking him to visit his family in Barbados – his brother had paid a third class ticket. Excited, Neville told Abdullah that he is going to Barbados however, his friend was unimpressed. Abdullah told Neville that he wasn’t boarding a third class ticket, he was going to go there with a first class ticket.

And guess what? When Neville gave his ticket to the clerk by the desk as they’re checking in passengers, they told him that someone canceled their first class ticket, therefore a spot was available for him.

Abdullah ignored Neville when he said ‘it didn’t work’ because it did work, if Neville was assuming that he was in Barbados, they wouldn’t be having this discussion about him not being there. What can you take from this story? I would say that unfortunate circumstances don't matter, especially when we see how bad and dire Neville’s financial situation was. Come on, he was in a country torn apart by war and poverty, yet he was still able to visit Barbados. Neville didn’t think of how he’d get there, he just simply assumed that he was there, and his 3D reality follows right after.

Barbados is a mindset. If you can imagine yourself having it and then accept that it is yours, you’re at the end. Your assumption is the fetus, continue nourishing it with beliefs and affirmations – let that child grow and become. If you drop your assumption that basically means you’re neglecting the fetus, and it will eventually die from starvation.

It doesn't matter if you have no money, it doesn't matter if you're in an abusive situation, it doesn't matter that you barely have a roof over your head. You are already in Barbados, tune into your inner man and bask in that.

EDIT: My apologies for getting the information mixed up. Abdullah is not the son of US secretary, rather he lived in a house that was rented by the latter. Sorry for the confusion!

#loa blog #loa tumblr #law of assumption #neville goddard #shifting community #loassumption #void state

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deathofacupid · 1 month ago

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you had it planned out. short, sweet, and to the point. today, on the first of april, you didn't have the energy to go all out like satoru did. every. year. and, every year, you were sick of falling victim to the same crime. so, before he had a chance to pounce, you would first.

it wasn't until you heard the click of the doorknob, that you wondered if this was really the smartest idea. but, like a brave(-ish) soldier in war (life at home with satoru), you persist.

"hi, baby," you hear, as he peaks into the bedroom. he tosses his blindfold aside, bright cerulean blue peeking out. he runs his hand through his snow-white locks, and you sigh, dreamy — forgetting the mission at hand.

satoru likes to have his blindfold off when he's with you. there's nothing overwhelming. nothing overstimulating. just you, his home. his life, his world. remembering the task at hand, you sit up.

hands in lap, you put on the best nervous face you can. he, the loving boyfriend he is, comes to stand between your legs, from where you're on the the edge of the bed.

"everything okay?" he asks, brushing a stand of hair away from your face.

"yes. maybe." it's vague on purpose.

satoru presses a kiss to your forehead. "what's going on, pretty girl?" and, as if you've never interacted with your boyfriend, you hold back a giggle (jesus, like a schoolgirl with a crush) at his nickname.

before you back out, you blurt out the words; "i'm pregnant!" watching his eyes bulge out of his head, you wait for his next words.

gojo satoru, for the strongest, was weak in the knees. he freezes completely, "what?"

"i... am pregnant."

"that's— oh, my god." you can't read his tone, and you can always read his tone. was he going to end up taking this really badly? because, you won't lie, that might hurt your ego. "did you take a test? how many? it said you were?"

he's rapid-firing questions at you, and your act is getting sloppy. "um, yes. yeah. tests. took those. ...two lines."

"tw— two? that's more than one!"

you have to suppress a snicker at your mathematical genius of a man.

"yeah, that is more than one."

"wow. wow, that's— crazy. does that mean i'm going to be a dad?"

"it is yours."

"is it a girl? do you think it's a girl? i hope it's a girl. wait, i'm going to have to learn how to braid hair," he gasps. "will you teach me? oh, what if it's a boy?"

there's a beat of silence from satoru. "what if it's more than one?"

okay. well. maybe, this was going a direction you hadn't expected. you thought he'd be more... off-put. he's not, though. is that excitement? you're a little too shocked to tell.

"wa- wait, 'toru," you say, holding your hands up. "relax. um, ...april fools?"

"huh?" his rambling comes to a halt. "you— you're not?" his face seems to fall, and you blink.

you look at how his eyebrows are knotted... in disappoint, maybe? no, that can't be right. right? yet, that's what it seems like.

"sato, are you-? upset? that i'm not, y'know, with child?" the words sound wrong, and you cringe slightly, but that's the least of your concerns. you gauge your words, head tilted. you're not sure if you're reading this correctly, but if you were, jesus.

"well, i mean," he pauses, hesitance etched on his face. so rare, it was, to see such uncertainty gracing his features. "no. but, like, i wouldn't have been opposed."

so, he was upset. the look in his eyes gave it away.

"i'm sorry," you say, sheepish. your arms settle around his waist, and you peer up at him, wondering if he's mad at you. "it was supposed to be a prank."

he pouts, shoulders seeming to sag. you can't tell if he's being overdramatic on purpose. "i didn't like that one very much," he says, dragging the last couple syllables out.

"oh. oh." you think, for a moment. and, even though you can't tell if what you pulled on him was worse than the year satoru replaced everything in the house with cake, you aren't really being logical with you're next words.

"then, maybe as apology... we could make that happen?" it comes out more like a question than you'd like.

"really?" he asks, doe-eyed, once more. "don't play!"

"i'm not," you laugh. "seriously. you want a baby, with me?"

"are you kidding? of-fuckin'-course. i've been dreaming about this forever."

"but, what about, like, getting married? isn't it conventional to do that first?"

"babe. nothing about us is conventional. you moved in three weeks into dating."

and, because when it comes to your boyfriend, you always think with your heart, and not your head, that's all it takes for you to crash your lips onto his.

as much as you hate april fools, this one's going to hold a special place in your heart.

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umbrella-show · 2 months ago

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𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞

I know I've been doing a lot of Shadow Milk stuff but I wanna give Burning spice cookie some love for a moment bc hes so cool ❤

The clang of clashing metal filled the open space. You swung your axe repeatedly in a frenzy, desperate to at least graze the dough of the Beast of destruction. Yet, he dogged every single one of your sloppy swings with ease. Trained onto the way you haphazardly swung the smaller axe over and over again, his eyes were narrow. Not in concentration, but in an expression of disappointment. Sweat dripped down your forehead as you stumbled forward in exhaustion, but continued to attempt to attack him. His axe met yours halfway, and with ease, he hit your axe out of your hands. The axe flew out of your hands and lodged into one of the nearby red stone pillars. A spice servant just so happened to be walking past and was nearly impaled by the weapon as it landed inches away from their head. They quickly scurried away, not sticking around to find out if there were any more flying axes that would pose a threat.

With no weapon and no way to defend yourself, you helplessly looked up at the Beast cookie. You heavily panted, your adrenaline immediately dissipating and the exhaustion causing your body to tremble. You began to finally recognize the overwhelming heat present in the training room from the natural environment of the dessert you were in. His sharp glare sent shivers down your spine and you found yourself freezing on the spot. His silence was greatly unnerving. He wasn’t known to be quiet in the slightest. Yet, he was staring down at you with a prominent scowl.

“That was pathetic.”

Burning Spice cooke spat out, his low and harsh tone making you flinch. You said nothing and only continued to look up at him. His towering stance caused you to shrink further, desperately wishing you could disappear and escape his disappointed gaze. You feared he would dispose of you. Reduce you into crumbs. Your gaze wandered to his own axe, practically as tall as him. One swing of that and you would be crumbs, and your dust would be left to travel into the air and join the rest of the spices who had fallen to the Great Destroyer's hands.

“Yet, I know you are capable of much more. That spark. That flame in your eyes. I have not forgotten it.”

His voice was gruff as he lectured you, making sure to look directly in your eyes. He was searching for something. Probably that so-called ‘spark’ he claimed he had once seen. You didn’t know what he meant by that. He soon continued, resting his battle axe over his shoulder.

“Fanning that flame, it will grow into an inferno that can scorch the most impenetrable civilizations and can snuff out the strongest of flames with a single blow.”

A faint smile pulled at his lips, revealing more of his sharp yellow teeth. The sight intimidated you greatly and made your feet shuffle underneath you. He didn’t seem to care about you uncomfort, his smile only growing as he seemed to be thinking deeply.

“Yes. You shall get there, in time. We will continue later. Retrieve the axe.”

Burning Spice cookie left the training room without another word. You hobbled over the axe stuck into the stone pillar. Gripping the handle, you heaved with all the strength you had left to pull it out. It remained lodged in the stone.

You only continued to stubbornly tug at the small axe. However, no matter how hard you tried, it didn’t budge. It wasn’t like you were at your full strength, you thought as you continued to pull. You had just spent a while overexerting yourself in your fierce training with the Beast cookie. You still persisted, leaning almost your whole weight back as you pulled.

Burning Spice cookie returned with a ceramic bowl in his hand. He noticed your difficulty in reattaining the axe in the pillar, and sighed in annoyance. He placed the bowl on the floor and strided over to your struggling form. At his arrival, you got the hint and stepped away from the axe and let him handle the work. With one swift tug of the handle, the axe was released from the wall. He called for a spice servant, demanding they sharpen the small weapon. Cowering, they quickly fled to fulfill his orders.

Burning Spice cookie ordered you to follow him to the bowl, sitting on the floor with crossed legs and prompting you to do the same. In the bowl, you saw some fruit. Mostly berries hanging on short, thin vines, though you could see some cantaloupe mixed in as well. You glanced at the appetizing looking fruit before looking at him. He looked at you expectantly. After a few seconds of silence, with an annoyed sigh, Burning spice cookie took one of the cantaloupes and dropped it into your hands.

“Eat,” he impatiently demanded. “In order to train harder, you need sustenance.”

You eagerly obliged, and began tearing into the cantaloupe with fervour. You didn’t realize how starving you were until you had taken that first, juicy, delicious bite and continuously ate more. You ravenously ate everything in the bowl, the juices of the cantaloupe and berries messily staining your mouth. You finished the bowl in a matter of minutes.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you took a moment to close your eyes and relax for just a few seconds. Of course, you could never fully be at ease, as you could feel Burning Spice cookie’s judgmental stare at your sudden tranquility. Yet, he gave you a full minute to decompress before grunting impatiently and getting up from the ground.You soon followed after you opened your eyes to his expectant glare.

“You may not rest. Rest can wait until you’ve reached your full potential.”

Before you could ask what he wanted you to do next, he suddenly turned his back to you, began walking, and ordered you to follow. Wordlessly, you walked behind him, your face displaying a visible expression of confusion and shock when he led you out of the temple and into the desert. Your attention averted to him as he muttered in a low voice. You were unsure it was directed at you or if he was speaking to himself.

“Now, let us do a new type of training.”

The wind kicked up spice into your face. Covering your eyes with your arms, you didn’t dare to open them in the middle of the Spice storm. Taking a step forward, you forced your body to move against the wind and further into the storm.

“How is this part of training-?!”

You coughed violently as you felt your throat burn from the specks of spice you accidentally swallowed. Burning Spice cookie stood, unbothered, in the hazardous storm. In fact, he smiled and laughed without a care as he watched you struggle. He stood in front of you at a distance, monitoring your every step. With crossed arms, he surveyed, entertained, at your scared expression and difficulty adjusting. He was waiting for you to reach him. Yet, you knew he could easily continue forward and leave you behind if he chose too, considering his calmness in such a hazardous storm.

“You need to get accustomed to the weather. That is part of your training. You must be prepared to fight in any conditions. Even in the eye of a Spice Storm.”

You took another step forward, leaning your weight forward to prevent the wind from pushing you back. You caught a glance at Burning Spice cookie through your blurred vision. He was still there, you confirmed. Watching you. You could still feel his piercing glare through the wind.

“Keep going.” He yelled, his hair widely whipping around him. “Ignite that spark. Fan the flame!”

A grunt left your throat, forcing your body forward. Step after step, your pace quickened. You continued to cough, but you ignored that and pushed forward. You came closer and closer to him. He seemed absolutely delighted by this, thoroughly entertained. He egged you on.

“Yes! YES! Keep going! FAN THE FLAME!!!”

“I-I can’t!”

“DO IT!!!”

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you compelled your body to continue. Step after step took incredible effort, but the fear of being swept away by the storm if you faltered for even a second compelled you to heed Burning Spice cookie’s orders. You shrieked as you felt the wind fiercely rush past you, your hair flying into your face. You pushed and pushed forward. You were only a few feet away from him.

He held a wide, toothy smirk as you inched closer. He could see it! That spark of determination began to grow into a powerful flame the more you continued forward. Your body trembled in exhaustion, but your eyes held that familiar look of determination.

That same look he had seen when you had gotten yourself between Golden Cheese cookie and him. The way you looked up at him, with pure anger and furry. Despite how fearful of him you obviously were, he could see it clearly through your body language. It was completely unwise to stand up to him so boldly. He knew you knew fully well he could easily crush you. Yet, you had tried to push him away, pathetically hitting your fist against his firm chest in an attempt to protect your dear friend. Pathetic and foolish, he had thought, and he returned your pointless punches with a blow of his own. Of course, you had flown back and were sent tumbling across the ground. The dough on your side and arm has slightly cracked, making it painful to move. Golden Cheese cookie had called out your name in utter horror at your condition.

Burning Spice cookie found satisfaction in her pain. Staining one of her most precious treasures with his destructive hands. His satisfaction, however, was unmatched to the pleasure he felt when he demanded her to fight him. The thrill he would experience by bringing about destruction to her precious treasures, and then her in the end, would be unmatched to anyone he had ever rivaled.

Yet, a sudden harsh poke at his back had caused him to look over and see you. You had hurled a stone at his back, your trembling form attempting to stand up straight and tall with difficulty. What really caught his attention, however, was your expression of complete and utter rage. Your jam was boiling, he could see it clear as day. Your eyes had held a mix of emotions, all burning inside you to create a powerful inferno that dared to rival his. You glared at him in pure and utter rage. He only stared back, momentarily stunned, before a wide smile came across his face. You, he had realized, could make you a worthy opponent.

After he had captured Golden Cheese cookie, he immediately began to train you as he waited for her to recover. Not only would it pass the time while he waited, but he could simultaneously still get some entertainment by pushing you to your limits and beginning to forcefully drill his teachings into your mind. He was going to mold you into the perfect soldier with brute force. He could see you were capable of being a worthy opponent. In fact, it seemed he was succeeding as he watched you persist through the storm. He could already see a part of himself in you. That passion in your eyes, he felt, could almost match his own. Almost. It would eventually get there if he continued training you. And he planned to do just that.

Once you had reached him, he wordlessly picked you up, slung you over his shoulder and calmly walked out of the Spice storm. The armor of his shoulder dug into your abdomen uncomfortably.

“With enough training, you’ll be able to FIGHT in a Spice storm with no issue.”

You could feel the wind calm over time as you walked further and further from the Spice Storm and towards the temple. You were completely exhausted, yet, you knew he wouldn’t let you rest. He repeated to you, as your eyes drifted from closing to opening, that rest could only come when you were pushed to your very limits. You silently forced your eyes to stay open. You dared not disobey him. The last thing you wanted was to die like this, by his hands. You needed to stay strong and wait until Golden Cheese cookie came back. You prayed to the witches, that she would.

You stood in the middle of the now abandoned temple you had trained in. The temple was annihilated. You did your best not to step on all of the ruble and broken pots, as well as the crumbs littering the floor. In the chaos of it all, the small metal axe you were familiar with was laying on the ground, under a large piece of the crimson rock. Slowly, you grasped the handle and lifted the axe to your face. The metal showed evident signs of use, some dents present from the training that you hand endured. Dust covered the metal weapon. Unconsciously, you wiped the metal with your hands, revealing your blurry reflection on the clearer surface. You examined your eyes through the reflection. Your dough held a few scratches, but over all, not much damage was physically done to you. You assumed even the Beast of Destructions knew to limit his power when training you, as he could easily crumble you or leave some nasty scars had he not been so mindful. You realized some of the remaining crimson dust made your eyes look redder on the metal.

You let your arm fall to your side as soon as you heard the call of the golden goddess herself, stronger and greedier than ever. She impatiently yelled for you in a loud, prideful tone that was clearly heard in her voice. You shouted out a short response, your hand tightening around the handle of the weapon. You weren’t sure why, but you decided to take it with you. Letting go just felt.. wrong. In a way. You began to briskly walk to meet Golden Cheese cookie and Smoked Cheese cookie observing the destruction of the temple. They were eager to get back to the kingdom, and you couldn’t deny you felt the same way.

With an unreadable expression, and a mix of complex emotions weighing heavily in your chest, you took one last long look at what remained of the temple. You turned away and departed with Golden Cheese cookie and Smoked Cheese cookie by your side. You had a feeling you’ll see Burning Spice cookie cookie again. When and where that meeting would take place, you were unsure. Yet, you were convinced that he would eventually hunt you down.

#umbrella stories ☂️#crk #cookie run kingdom #yandere crk x reader #crk x reader #burning spice crk #burning spice x reader #burning spice cookie #burning spice cookie x reader #yandere cookie run #cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #yandere cookie run kingdom x reader #yandere cookie run kingdom #yandere crk

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sukunas-wife · 1 year ago

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What about Y/N and reader having a little baby girl. Sukuna was disappointed at first because he wanted another boy. But she becomes so attached to her papa since she was a baby. Like she sees cuts on his hands (she doesn’t realize he can use RCT yet) and tries to treat his wounds 🥺🫶🏽

~🪽

I though tumblr ate your ask when I scrolled 5 times and could find it and I panicked so hard 😭 So cute 🥺 Im pretty sure we’re going with Anya, but I suck at catching her personality so I’m just going to go with general daughter reactions for this 🥹🤍🤍

(Note: I tried, but I feel like I’m always lacking in the daughter area. Maybe I need to borrow my niece ;-; also, its a little short…) finally back into it tho 😎

Your room fell silent, the cries filling the air were almost piercing. You felt like you knew this was bound to happen. Yuji was a miracle, but your second child was born a girl. You knew Sukuna had only ever cared about having heirs, so in the silence you were on edge of what he would say or do.

It was strange watching him in that moment, she was crying in his arms, he was staring at her with that black expression that always appeared like a frown. He shouldn’t have been so openly disappointed, he knew from the start when your stomach started to swell and he hadn’t noticed until he touched your round belly. The child in your stomach had not an ounce of cursed energy to leave a presence, much less for him to be able to tell what it could be. Yet he held out hope for a boy, even if the lack of his presence was due to a heavenly restriction, he could work with that. But no, the little pink haired girl crying and screaming in his arms was enough to leave him perplexed. He shook his head, handing her over to you, you watched him while you began to breastfeed your daughter.

“Sukuna..” your voice was a whisper followed by a cringe of feeling like your insides were coming out. You wanted to comfort your husband but you didn’t feel right. “Sukuna,” your lower stomach kicked in painful cramps, and everything moved in a rush. Sukuna was pushed out of the room and heard the panic of your caretakers clearly.

—- —- —- —- —-

The day had passed and he sat outside your room, they had persisted he did not pass. So he sat out there waiting until the early hours of sunrise when they brought out his daughter. He took her in his hands, you couldn’t see it past her pink hair and eyes, but to Sukuna she had your face. She was small and round but to him, she looked so similar he was in disbelief you had won over that part of his genes.

He sat there all day, holding her to his chest, while his head leaned back against the wall. His eyes were closed but he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t rest, he could tell you were alive, but it felt like you were just barely there. He looked down in his arms, the little bundle of clothes moving around slightly as your daughter moved, crying out. He wanted to hand it off to a servant as his hand came up to uncover her face more to look at her, that was until her hand slipped out taking a tight hold of finger. She stopped crying for a moment just sniffling, her little nails falling digging into his skin. “Come, stop your crying.” His free arm came to lightly run over his little wrinkly cheeks, “my child.” He was looking at her with such a soft look, the servants found it endearing. It was then he decided he would take care of her as he did Yuji, his child, his pride.

—- —- —- —- —-

Years passed, and you were outside with Yuji. Watching Anya’s big eyes growing in size as an emperor butterfly slowly fluttered around the garden. It had been a month since Sukuna had left on one of his little excursions, you were curious why his supposed two week trip became a month long trip. But you had your 13 year old Yuji who was laying in your lap passed out from his own Ventures of the day and your 3 year old girl keeping you busy, you didn’t feel as lonely as when it was just yourself. “Mama!” Your hand kept running though Yuji’s hair, “Yes sweetheart?” Your little girl came running up to you, “Papa!” You could see the stars in her eyes as she pointed behind her, past the garden. You looked seeing the all too familiar and burly silhouette in the distance. You faked a gasp, “It is papa! He’s almost home. Do you wanna go get him the sweets you made?” She perked up more, “Yeah!” You watched as she ran off inside the house singing a song as her steps padded on the ground. Yuji slowly sat up, eyes squinty as he looked around “Dad?” You laughed while rubbing his head, “Yes.”

You started to get up, Yuji rushing up and offering to help you as you struggled to get up, “my leg is tired from being in one place too long.” You laughed and Yuji grinned, “Sorry’ was tired.”

You simply rubbed his head, “It’s fine, go get your sister, she’s been away for a while already.”

Yuji ran off to find his sister while you tried to ignore the feeling in your legs. You moved closer to the edge of the garden Sukuna was approaching in fresh blood, the closer he became the more you noticed the minor scrapes and cuts on his body. You rolled your eyes with a smile, he shrugged off the top of his robes once he had realised your eyes were trained on his body. It would be a lie to say you didn’t find him attractive in this form of glory, but for the sake of your kids you wouldn’t touch his chest and give him that look. It was when he stood in front of you that your dominant hand pulled your handkerchief from your obi, your free hand cradling his face before cleaning his face of the foreign contaminant.

“I see my husband is home, sturdy, well and revelling in his victories.” You hummed as you finished cleaning his face, pulling him towards you gently so you could kiss him. As you pulled away from what was going to be a soft kiss he pulled you back in to catch your lips longer, “Mhm.” Was all

He hummed against your lips, aside from the hand on your head, two of his free hands came to your waist to pull you closer. Placing your hands on his chest you pushed yourself back a little to stare up at him, “Your little girl has been asking and crying for you to come back. She even made you a little treat everyday for when you arrived.” He hummed, eyeing you, your hands moving to rest on his biceps, “They should be here. I sent her in to retrieve what she worked so hard on.” Your head turned exposing your neck to him, his last free hand coming up to run his nails over the tender flesh, “I’m sure she’ll be back soon enough, as for now I’m craving the feeling of something else.” His hand angled your head away, teeth and lips running over the plush pulse point on your neck, until he huffed at your resistance, “how impervious.” He pulled away, hands sliding from your waist as he looked away visibly upset. You couldn’t fight the smile, “We should go, it might be a waste waiting longer out here then if we go find them.”

—- —- —- —- —-

That’s how you ended up in this situation. Yuji was sitting by his dad with a big smile listening to the story of how he single-handedly levelled another city. Anya was sitting on his lap bouncing along as his body shook when he’d let out a louder laugh or was jostled around with his movements. That was until she noticed the smallest cut on his stomach and let out a loud gasp making all of you turn to look at her.

”Papa! You’re hurt!” Sukuna looked down, seeing the small surface wound that left a red line of broken skin over his side stomach. “Oh, I suppose I a-PAPA NEEDS BANDAGES” she was rushing off feet pattering over the floor as Yuji mumbled, “But.. can’t dad use reverse cursed technique…” he looked confused as he closed his eyes tilting his head to the side. You looked at your husband who sighed with a faint twitch at his lips and placed a hand on Yuji’s head messing up his already tousled hair. “Interesting, I remember another brat with pink hair who did the exact same thing.” Yuji smiled under the weight of his fathers hand.

Anya came running in with a bowl of water spilling everywhere and other things tucked under her little arm. You watched as Ryomen steadied her after she spilt water onto his lap trying to clean his wounds as she had watched you done when your husband would crave your attention and purposely not heal his own wounds leaving you to tend to him. He cringed as more water spilt onto his lap as she un purposely smacked his stomach with a soaking rag rubbing at the small flesh wound, Yuji tried not to laugh as you laughed quietly behind your hand watching as Sukuna tried to help only for Anya to yell at him “No! I can do it papa! You’re hurt!”

The screen was cute as he cringed more at the cold water, relieved when she stopped only to become stressed when she pulled out the roll of wraps. She had seen you use those wraps on Yuji many times when he would become injured or hurt. What she didn’t see was how her father was much larger in size, those tiny wraps wouldn't circle his waist even once.

When they couldn't, Anya became frantic, rushing to jump off her father and run to get more bandages. This was until Ryomen caught her mid jump, “Lemme go daddy! Need more wraps!” He sat her back on his lap, “No you don’t brat, I'll show you something better.”

Anya looked up at her dad with glossy eyes and a wobbly lip, “Press your hands here.” You watched as he guided her small hands to his stomach over the wrap, “Put all your force behind it.” She forced her eyes closed, pressing both her hands against his stomach with all her little muscle. Using the slightest bit of his reversed cursed technique he pulled her hands away, “See.” Her eyes opened slowly and the red mark on his stomach was gone. Her eyes lit up as she looked up at him, “I DID IT!” Ryomen couldn’t fight back the twitch of his lips that pulled into a smile, “You did.” Her hands clasped together with starry eyes, her stare locked on Yuji, “I can fix you.”

Tag List: @sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira @princessluvz @furiousblacktiger @anyaswlrd @shytastemakerthing @alialucille @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @sakunawifey @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks

@bofadeezs

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jaylver · 1 year ago

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WEBS OF HURT — S.JY

synopsis: Falling for your best friend wasn't on your check list for high school. As if that wasn't enough to break your heart, his odd behaviour only added fuel to the fire along with a new crush of his. Who knew that odd behaviour would soon turn into a secret truth that you'd discover after his valiant effort of hiding.

pairings: spiderman!jake x afab!reader

genre: best friends to lovers, unrequited love, miscommunications, spiderman au, angst, romance, fluff

warning(s): profanities, mentions of alcohol, party, violence, injury

wc: 10k

a/n: tried something new! a little birthday gift from me <3 please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

Falling in love with your guy best friend was probably the worst thing ever to experience when it came to girlhood.

High school should be fun, right? Being a teenager should be fun, right? Well, that wasn't exactly the case when you found yourself feeling more than just a mere liking towards Jake Sim, the guy best friend you mentioned and was entirely, love sickeningly, in love with.

Jake Sim was the first guy you actually built a solid friendship with. It first started when he sat beside you in calculus, then you realised you had more classes with him and a friendship eventually developed when you started acknowledging each other. One class together soon turned into years spent with one another. You knew his family and he knew yours. Nothing could ever break the bond between you and him.

You just couldn't help but notice a slight change in him after the death of his uncle, Ben. At first, you figured it might've been grief, trying your best to offer your utmost support. But as months flew by, the oddness persisted. He would disappear in between classes, sometimes standing you up at places you were at together and returning a little scathed, making it up to you by promising for a redo hang out. All of that was weird. Let's not get started on the fact he caught your stuff falling way too many times, even when his head was faced away, his hand would reach out first. In his words, he called it his 'spidey sense', whatever that meant.

However, you never doubted him. He was still the best friend you had, even if he had some tweaks to him. You never once questioned him or brought up your suspicions, but this time, you couldn't help yourself from bombarding him with questions when he broke the news to you.

"I think I have a crush," Jake announced the moment he was in your presence, sounding a little out of breath considering he made a run to the cafeteria. The tray of food was untouched, quite unlike him since he always dug into his food first.

"You 'think'?" You hummed, ignoring the mixed feelings you had blaring loudly.

"Okay, I know I have a crush," he has yet to start eating, just staring expectantly at you, eyebrows furrowed at the nonchalant and dismissiveness in your tone.

"You're being for real?" You finally turned your head to meet his eyes, placing your fork down.

"I am! I think it's kinda crazy," his eyes twinkled, something quite rare but only you knew, like a comet in the sky.

"Who is it?"

"Gwen,"

"Gwen? Gwen Stacy?" You swallowed back a frown that was itching to make its way to your lips, masking it with your best shot of shock instead of disappointment. Of course it was the golden girl, what a cliche plot.

He nodded, a small smile rested on his face as he started digging into his food. "We … talked? Talked about some science things, about Oscorp, about the things she's working on. Oh yeah, she said there's this party on Saturday and wondered if I wanted to go, I said I wanted to bring a friend and she's cool with it,"

"I assume I'm that friend, then?" You poked at your food, suddenly losing your appetite as the conversation progressed.

"No, it's Carlos—of course it's you, dumbass," he flicked at your forehead, earning a firm scowl from you. "You're my best friend, my only ever, I'd be insane to think otherwise,"

You chewed at your lips, not because you were contemplating whether you should or shouldn't go, but it was mainly due to the word 'best friend' that got your attention. There goes your hope down the drain. First, being told your best friend who you have a crush on already has his eyes on someone else, then, getting friendzoned by that same exact guy, all in one shot. It's brutal out here.

"So what do you say?" Jake's voice broke the momentary silence, noticing your dazed expression. You snapped out of it almost immediately.

"I'll go,"

"Really?"

"Do you want me to say no instead …?" You raised an eyebrow, watching him scrambling at your words.

"N–no! I'm just shocked and very glad you agreed to come," he managed a laugh, which turned into a smile.

"Am I going to get ditched that night because you want to get your dick wet?"

Jake scrunched his face up in a look of disgust. "Can you not? I don't need you to say that. And no, I'm not going to ditch you,"

"I'm holding you to it."

Jake shot you a wink, earning a figuratively loud eye roll from you. His laughter filled your ears, and though you managed a smile, you found yourself feeling the opposite internally. You knew you shouldn't feel this way, it's not like you were even in a relationship with him in the first place. But God, why did it hurt so bad?

Who told you friends to lovers was cool when it was unrequited and one sided all along.

"You know, you look good either way,"

Jake Sim was sitting on the edge of your bed watching you put on makeup and getting ready. It was a few hours before the party and Jake had turned up looking nervous, wearing that lucky graphic tee of his that you recognised quickly. Your teasing definitely didn't make him smile, and you soon realised that the crush he had was actually serious.

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow despite feeling the giddiness from the effects of his nonchalant words. He has to stop that. "Are you trying to butter me up to get me to move quicker?"

"Whaaat? No way. You genuinely look good whether or not you have makeup on, seriously," he was genuine, you could tell, but you knew him better than anything. It was quite a fatal flaw.

"Give me ten minutes to finish the other eye then we can leave."

At that, Jake sighed in relief and fell back onto your bed, kicking his legs patiently. He couldn't stop talking about the party and the people who'd be there, but honestly, you could tell he was just trying to not bring up Gwen at any given moment. Knowing that, you wished the mascara wand would just poke into your eye, maybe it'd hurt less compared to how your heart felt.

"Does my shirt look lame—"

"Dude, shut up," just before you and Jake entered the house, he was asking for another reassurance. First, it was his hair, then his shoes, and every other piece of clothing, leaving his shirt for last. It took everything in you to not punch him along the way there. "I swear, no one will care. If anything, isn't that your lucky shirt?"

"It is my lucky shirt. But whether or not that lucky shirt looks good, that's the case," he glanced down at his graphic shirt, a picture of a rock band from the 2000s staring back at him.

"Trust me, if it's ugly, I would've asked you to change, now shut up and get your ass in there before I leave you here," you huffed and continued walking, hearing him mutter something before catching up with you.

Upon entering the house, you figured it was as underwhelming as you expected. The smell of sweat and flavoured smoke filled the air, high school students lingered around as the music blasted. You should've probably stayed home.

"So, you got your pick up lines ready?" You thrusted a cup of fruit punch into his hands, tilting your head in question.

Jake rolled his eyes. "I'm afraid Google has failed me on that one," he looked around the room, shoulders tense.

"Calm down, big guy. You're acting like you're being hunted down. She's not that scary," you patted his shoulders as he took a swig out of his cup.

"Not scary? Says the one without a crush,"

How ironic.

You brushed it off, finding yourself taking a big gulp as well. He was oblivious and you were just stupid. Stupidly in love with your best friend who has his eyes set on another girl. Perfect.

"I think I see her," you followed his line of sight, spotting a blonde in the midst of the crowd almost immediately. She made her way through, parting the mass with a certain grace to her aura.

Jake looked back at you, a mix of conflict written in his features. You read him well, too well. You offered a smile. "Go, go talk to her. Just text me when you're leaving, okay? You said you're not going to ditch me,"

"I won't," he laughed, but there was a certainty in his tone.

"Then go, what are you waiting for? I'm expecting a whole loads of information by the end of the night," you gave him a slight push, but you could see the small reluctance he had. "Go!" Off he went into the crowds and gravitated towards her.

You couldn't bear to witness it all, watching him leaning down as she laughed into his ear. The feeling of bitter jealously coursed through your veins, it was evil, so evil, but you couldn't help it. At the end, you had to remind yourself, he wasn't yours in the first place. He wasn't yours to lose.

Turning your back to them, you sat alone in a stranger's kitchen and fought off the temptation of getting drunk. Instead, you indulged in the leftover pizzas left on the counter, letting a random girl join you and overshare secrets. Wallowing in self pity was probably not what you had in store for the night.

Almost as fast as you had arrived, it was already past midnight in a blink of an eye. You realised your curfew was around the corner and it was time to signal Jake to leave too. Glancing at your phone, you were surprised to see zero messages from your best friend. Weird.

You stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room, seeing a bunch of people passed out at the oddest spots, only a few still awake. One of them was surprisingly Gwen, the goody two shoes you had in mind was actually staying up past your curfew. You heaved a distressed yet exasperated sigh, walking towards her.

"Hey, Gwen," you hoped she remembered you, considering you were in the same Chemistry class as her.

"Oh, hey. Y/N, right?" She flashed you a sweet smile, and it was painful to know how likeable and nice she was. You couldn't even bring yourself to hate her.

"Right. Sorry for interrupting, but have you seen Jake around? The last time I saw him was with you," you unknowingly chewed on your bottom lip anxiously, taking the frown on her lips as a bad sign.

"He left," that was the least expected thing you anticipated as a response.

"He … left?" You repeated incredulously, almost as if she hadn't made it clear enough for you.

"Yeah, he suddenly said he needed to leave … in the middle of our conversation. An emergency or something. Kinda weird but kinda cute," she laughed, but you were holding back a disdainful scowl, reserved for both Jake and her, but most specifically Jake Sim. "Why? Were you with him?"

You bit back an immediate reply. As much as you wanted to say 'yes', you didn't want to blow off his chance either. "No, just … checking. He said he was coming tonight,"

"Oh, I see,"

"Yeah," you nodded rather stiffly and awkwardly. "I'll get going now, thanks,"

"See ya, Y/N. Until our next class," she gave you a salute, a melodious laugh escaping her lips.

You couldn't resist a smile either, saluting her back. There was a charm to her that affected people, it was understandable that Jake was charmed, but you hated to know that, and you did not want to understand it. For now, he was dead to you, just like how he has left you to yourself in the middle of a party at midnight. Was he Cinderella? Glad to know you weren't the only one who he pulled the disappearing act on.

Clutching onto your jacket tight, you cursed every cuss words there were under your breath, all of which were dedicated to Jake. He had the audacity to leave without even leaving you a text, and that got you walking home in the dangerous night of New York City. Thanks a fucking lot. To say you were seething was an understatement.

You hated the streets of New York especially at night. To prove your hatred further, you just had to be at threat of an armed robbery there and then.

"Hey! You there!" A dark figure approached from a distance, pointing at you. Oh God. "Got some money on you?" This couldn't be happening.

"N–no," you said quietly, backing up quickly. His footsteps thundered loudly against the pavement, seemingly getting closer.

"Don't lie, I see that purse on you,"

"I'm a broke high school student, leave me alone!" Was it sad to say that you were yelling the brutal truth to him?

"I don't care. Give me your purse—" his threat almost had you running in the opposite direction, but his sentence was never finished. Instead, a sharp unfamiliar noise shot through the silence, and a second figure in the distance appeared. That wasn't his partner, right?

Panic coursed through you, and yelling out was most likely the worst idea you had in ages. "Hello?"

Silence.

"Hello? Can I leave now?"

"Yeah, you can," the figure walked under the lamp post, revealing himself.

Spiderman?

Clad in red and a mask over his head, he stepped towards you ever so casually, whereas you stood there absolutely stunned to even move. It wasn't an everyday occurance where you could personally meet the hero in flesh. The media might've painted him as some criminal, but to you and many other citizens, you knew that wasn't the truth.

"Spiderman," you greeted, anxiety lowered knowing you weren't getting robbed now. "Thanks for—that," you waved in the direction of where the man originally was.

"No worries," you noticed his voice seemed familiar, but before you could think more about it, he spoke with a sudden deeper octave. "It's—uh—not safe out here. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Well, for starters, my friend left me at a party that we were supposed to leave together without telling me, and now I'm walking home alone, until I almost got robbed," it was clear that anger and bitterness laced your voice, a deep frown etched on your face as you told Spiderman your concerns.

"Sorry," his voice became lighter, somehow sincere, which made you tilt your head in question. "I–I mean, sorry that he did that to you," he cleared his throat, straightening his spine and returning back to that deep voice.

"I don't know what's up with him. He could've left me a text,"

He muttered something inaudible under his breath, then turned his focus back on you. "I'm sure he's very sorry, and maybe he's got a reason too. Try hearing him out,"

"I will. I always do. I'm just hurt, it's complicated,"

"What? What do you mean complicated?"

You shrugged, hugging your purse close to your chest. "It's nothing. I don't think Spiderman will be interested in my matters with my best friend. I'll leave you to your hero stuff and head home now. Thanks for saving me and the 20 dollars in my wallet,"

"Well—I—wait," before you could fully turn around and leave, his hand landed on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. "Let me walk you home. It's not safe,"

"Wouldn't it be weird if I turned up at my apartment lobby with Spiderman?" You crossed your arm, making quite a fair point.

"You're right. What about I give you a swing?"

"What?"

Swinging around New York City was definitely an unforgettable but scary experience. You clung onto Spiderman, screaming like a madwoman as he had his arm wrapped around your waist. The touch was as familiar as his voice, hard to put a finger on but almost feeling like you've known him for years.

You were about to point out your apartment but he had already beat you to it, not even needing you to tell you which floor or window it was, landing on the fire escape right in front of your bedroom window. That just further proved your familiarity towards him.

He pulled your window open, signalling you to head in, but you were stuck staring at him, both in shock from the swing and the way he knew your place.

"How did you—"

"Bye! Goodnight!"

You watched as he avoided your question and shot a web out to swing to some other building, leaving you stunned. How were you going to recover from this?

10/10 experience. Spiderman might just be your casual crush to get away from the thoughts of Jake.

'BREAKING NEWS: bank robbery in downtown last night caused a chaotic and frantic disturbance, luckily, Spiderman was there to save the day and catch the robbers before anything major happened. Is he really as bad as they make him to be?'

The news of Spiderman saving a bank from a robbery right before your personal near robbery experience had you amused. The videos of him beating up the robbers and using his webs to tie them up were going viral all over the internet, even people in school were talking about it.

You were standing at your locker, digging for some textbooks before class started when Jake Sim himself appeared beside you. His presence was announced before he even spoke, but you didn't bother to spare him a glance.

"Y/N, I'm so so sorry about last night," he was heaving in breaths, as if he had ran across the school to find you, maybe he did.

"Oh, were you?" You clicked your tongue, suddenly finding the random piece of paper in your locker fascinating.

"I am. Seriously, Y/N. I know I'm an asshole for that, I'm sorry for not texting you earlier and letting you know—"

"Jake, this isn't the first time you bailed on me," you cut him off, slamming your locker door close and turning to face him. The bruise beside his right eye caught your attention, and suddenly, your anger seemed to have sizzled away. "What the hell happened to your eye?"

It has become a common practice by now apparently. Jake disappearing and turning up with some kind of injury. Like always, he just brushed you off. "It's nothing, don't worry. It's not about me, it's about you. I fucked up this time and I know it, I'm sorry. An emergency with Aunt May came up a–and I had to go home early, I was too caught up in the moment to let you know. I'm sorry, really,"

You considered his apology for a moment. He was sincere, you knew that, but there was a certain dishonesty to his explanation. However, you didn't want to press on further either. "I understand. You probably always have a reason, it's just that I hate it when you disappear on me without telling me. I almost got robbed last night!"

It took him almost a few seconds to register, then another few more to compute a reaction. "What? Are you okay?"

"I'm standing here, aren't I? Spiderman saved my ass,"

"Spiderman?"

"Yeah, Spiderman. That guy who swings around New York. He saved me from some guy that was about rob me, because someone over here decided to leave early,"

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm just glad you're alright,"

"Well, thank fuck I am," you crossed your arms, staring pointedly at Jake.

He dug something out of his backpack, a paper bag of some sort materialized in his hand. "I got you some of your favourite cookies and donuts. As a form of apology,"

You took the bag from him, glancing between him and it. "You can't just buy your way into an apology,"

"You accepted it, you took the bag,"

You rolled your eyes, unable to bite back. "Whatever," you reached in for a cookie and started walking away from your locker, hearing Jake scurrying to join your side.

"So, we're cool?"

You took a brief glance at him, taking a bite out of your cookie. "We are,"

Jake wasn't fully convinced, however. He knew you and your patterns, and he definitely knew which tricks to pull to make it better. "How about I treat you to some Chinese food tonight?"

That piqued your interest, an eyebrow raised at his question. "The one downtown?"

"That one,"

"You sure know how to get on my good side, Sim," you nudged his side, falling into one of his tricks once again. "Too well,"

"I know my ways to get to your heart, don't underestimate me," he said in a lighthearted tone, but God, you wished he would actually find his way into your heart. "Anyway, how was—uh—Spiderman, last night? Excusing your near robbery experience," he winced at the last part, though in reality, the accident hadn't shaken you as much as he had thought.

"He was nice! A little awkward but I kinda get it. He swung me back to my place, which was weird because he knew which window and level it was," you pursed your lips in deep thought, failed to realise the widened eyes from Jake and the panic that filled them.

"M–maybe, it was a wild guess," he said shakily.

"Wild guess? Don't bullshit me, Sim. A smart guy like you would know it's hard to do so," you waved him off, continuing to venture into your theories.

"Maybe he has some kind of sixth sense," he laughed rather stiffly, earning a suspicious narrowed stare from you.

"Okay, big head, quit acting so weird. Let's just get calculus over with and then stop by that ice cream place after school, what do you say?"

Jake's shoulders visibly relaxed, a sense of relief overtook his features. What was that about? "Sure. My treat,"

"God, Sim, you have to stop treating me or else I'll fall in love with you," you joked, even as it came out lighthearted, it was filled with a painful truth that you kept as a secret.

"Then fall in love with me."

You froze, almost unblinking. Something so intimate yet controversial had left his lips like it was nothing. It was probably nothing to him, maybe a mere joke even, considering how he let out a small laugh and smiled at your reaction. You tried to pretend it was nothing, but it wasn't nothing, not to you.

For a second, you wished you weren't already in love with Jake.

Trying to be happy for your best friend shouldn't be hard, but why were you struggling with it so much?

First, you were literally in love with him. Yes, you've come to the conclusion that you 'L' word him, the big 'L'. Seeing him list out the things Gwen likes and hates reminded you of yourself knowing him equally that much too, which only pained you more than it reassured you. Second, he has been hanging out with her more. Not that you were completely friendless and have no one to hang with, but Jake was Jake, he was your best friend, and losing your best friend was the worst thing to happen.

You didn't lose him, no, but it felt like you had. He barely made time for you, being caught up with Gwen, dates and school work, how could he not manage to squeeze you in there? You've always made time for him no matter what the occasion was, so knowing he didn't do the same for you just had you dying internally.

It was a quiet evening in New York. The sun had just set and you were walking home from grabbing an early dinner alone. This time around, you were smarter than the previous round. Armed with pepper spray and a pocket knife, you prayed on a shooting star that an unfortunate incident would never ever happen once more.

You were practically in your own world to even realise or hear footsteps approaching you from behind. By the time you did, your fight or flight mode was activated, almost throwing out a punch, just to freeze upon figuring out who it actually was. Spiderman.

"Walking home alone?" He kept up with your pace as you recovered from a momentary fright.

"Stalking me?" You wondered how he even spotted you in the first place. In the big city of New York, he's coincidentally strolling down the same street as you? As if. "Scared me, you know? Thought it was another round of getting robbed,"

"I'd be there to fight them off if that happens," he said with utmost confidence that it had you laughing a little, shaking your head in disbelief. Why did he remind you of Jake? It's a sign you should stop thinking so much about him.

"Really? I kinda doubt it. Unless you're keeping an eye on me or something, stalker," you teased him, egging him on further.

"I'm not stalking you," his tone gave away the withering confidence of his. You smiled, feeling his lingering gaze on your face. Maybe it was just your mind that's overthinking, but his mannerisms reminded you too much of your best friend. It was in the way he walked, talked and how he normally did this thing where he walked with you and cast glances at you from time to time. Every little detail that you wished you couldn't list out was a part of the city's hero.

He cleared his throat, straightening his back, trying to rebuild that confidence he originally carried. "So … how are things between you and your friend?"

"The one that stood me up at the party?"

He choked a little, but regardless, he nodded his head. "Y–yeah,"

You couldn't hold in a sigh from escaping your lips. Just thinking about Jake had you huffing in frustration. Spiderman picked up on it, shifting slightly beside you. "I guess not … good? Haven't seen him much and he hasn't been bothering to hang out with me anymore. I mean, I get he's making moves but why can't he just manage a little time for me? Maybe I'm too selfish but—" he's not mine anyway. You bite your tongue, holding back what you really wanted to say.

The hero beside you was silent for a bit, as if walking on eggshells and picking the best words to say. "I think he'd come around," he said slowly, "he'd say a couple of sorrys, and you should tell him what's on your mind. Let him know. He'll understand,"

You chewed on your bottom lips, considering the possibilities, but totally also not expecting to get advice from the Spiderman like it was some counselling session. "I know he'll listen. He always does. But I don't want anything to change between us,"

"Nothing will change," he said with a kind of certainty that even you didn't doubt. How did he know? Who was he to judge? You didn't say anything, but just nodded. You knew Jake wasn't the type to argue nor take your words lightly, but you shudder at the thought of a confrontation, not that it was your first with him, but it felt much more emotional this time.

"I hope so. I miss him—oh, my place is around the corner, I can manage myself," you stopped before a turn around the corner, Spiderman following suit.

Standing before him only increased your curiosity about his identity. Who was he? He was hiding under a mask that shielded his face, but something about him seemed less foreign than expected.

"O–oh, then I guess I should get away too. Swing around the city and see whose ass to beat," he laughed awkwardly, a hand automatically reaching for the back of his neck, just like something Jake would do too. You shook that thought away. "Goodnight … stranger,"

"It's Y/N," you didn't hesitate to tell him your name, he saved your life, a little information about yourself wouldn't hurt despite him being a total stranger still. "Goodnight, spider boy."

You turned around the corner, leaving the hero standing there, bewildered and helpless. It was hard to ignore the pit in your stomach that carved deeper and deeper. He reminded you too much of your best friend, and strangely, that was probably the reason why you felt gradually attached to him, a stranger that resembled the ghost of a guy you liked but couldn't have.

The space of your apartment was dark and soulless once you stepped into it. Your parents worked late as always, meaning you were alone most of the time, and this was one of them. Maybe it was the atmosphere and the countless wishful thinking, but a sense of despair knocked on the door of your heart.

By the end of the night, you laid awake in bed thinking about what Spiderman had said. Nothing will change. That was exactly what you wished for too, that your dynamic with Jake was never to change, but how was that to happen when he's got a girl around? Eventually, you're not just going to lose the guy you loved, but your best friend as a whole.

Your train wreck of thoughts were interrupted the moment you heard a knock on your window. That knock turned into a tune that you knew too well. Sitting up straight in bed, you spotted the figure standing by your window out on the fire escape. Jake.

At this point, you weren't even going to figure out how he got up this high on the fire escape. It was one too many times of him avoiding your question and you ended up dropping the matter too. Yet, curiosity itched your mind.

Unamused at the fact that he turned up at possibly the wrong timing, you dragged your legs over to the window, meeting his bashful gaze. He offered a crooked grin, but your narrowed eyes only shot it back into a frown.

"Explain to me why you're here? It's midnight, Aunt May would be worried about you," your window was opened now, but you stood in the way before he could climb through, an interrogative look of yours stared at him accusingly.

"I told her I'd be over at yours," he answered cheekily. "Just like the old times, eh?"

Judging from your unbudging stance and eyes practically shooting lazers, Jake knew he had struck a nerve that have been left untreated for far too long. He sighed a defeated breath, squeezing through forcefully and dropping his backpack onto the ground.

"I know," he didn't need to say much, yet he conveyed more than needed. "I've been a shitty best friend,"

It was your turn to sigh. You shook your head, averted your gaze to the ground and stepped aside, giving him more space. "You know a 'sorry' alone won't cut it this time,"

He followed your every movement, joining you to sit on the edge of your bed, a small space in between separated you and him. "I know. But I really am sorry, Y/N. I mean it,"

"I just want you to be honest with me, Jake. I know you're busy, I know you're trying to get the girl of your dreams or whatever, good for you, but it feels like you've forgotten about me or something,"

"I didn't forget about you. How could I ever?"

"Well, then stop acting like it! A text would suffice," you stood up, back facing him just so you could hide your face from him and the tears welling up in your eyes.

"Y/N," he grabbed a hold of your wrist, cold fingers wrapped around your skin, his touch ever so gentle. "I'm sorry. I know I fucked up … many times, and a single 'sorry' wouldn't make up all the hurt I caused you, b–but there's a reason why,"

"What is it then?" You whirled around to face him, the dark of the room casted a shadow over his face, bringing out the fatigue and injury on his delicate features. "What the fuck, Jake? Are you hurt again?"

"It's nothing,"

"You said it's nothing every time you turned up hurt, and I never ask many questions, but Jake, it feels like you're hiding something from me," your hand reached up for his face, hovering over the bruises and mild cuts on his lips and skin. "I don't know you anymore,"

Jake moved his face away a little, grabbing that hand of yours which hovered over his face, lacing his fingers into yours, the rough surface of skin contrasting your soft touch. "I–I wish I could tell you what it is right now, Y/N, I really do, but it's not the right time. I need you to trust me, I need you to believe me, I don't want to hurt you,"

There was a moment of silence where you stood before him, hands intertwined with his, your hurtful gaze scanning his every feature that you knew too well. Jake never lied to you, you knew that, but why couldn't you fully trust him this time? There was a sense of truth and lie hidden behind his words, but you knew one thing, he was genuine. Yet, it wasn't enough.

"Let me make it up to you. There's this carnival in the city tomorrow night, you and I, hang out, what do you say?" He tried offering a smile, which eventually turned uncertain. "We can spend the entire day together. Just you and me,"

"No bailing on me this time?"

"Promise,"

"You do?"

He held up your interlocked hands, then intertwined your's and his pinky fingers together, something you and him always did when it came to serious promises despite the childishness to the whole pinky promises thing. "Promise," he repeated.

"I believe you, Jake. I always do, and I just don't want you to get yourself in danger, whatever it is that you're doing. Whenever you turn up bruised and beaten, I–I just feel helpless, and you push me away every time,"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, taking your interlocked hands and placing them on his chest, near to where his heart resided. "I promise to tell you the truth soon. I just need to be ready,"

"When you're ready," you gave his hand an affirming squeeze, a reassuring smile creeping up onto your lips. "Do you want to stay over?"

"I didn't turn up with a packed bag for nothing," he laughed, the air lightening up much more compared to earlier. "I'll sleep on the ground like always,"

Once you were done manoeuvring and setting up the sleeping bag for Jake, you were finally in bed for the second time that night, except now, you had Jake sleeping on the ground beside your bed. It wasn't a rare occasion having him sleep over, just maybe this time it was a tad bit more awkward given the situation you had earlier.

"Jake," you spoke into the darkness, your eyes trained on that one spot on your ceiling.

He hummed back in response.

"Nothing has changed between us, right?"

A beat of silence, the whirring of your A/C was what remained. Then, he spoke. "No. Nothing's ever going to change. Nothing will change,"

It sounded familiar, the way he said it and the enunciation he had in every word. You shook it off, given the late night and a mushy brain, you didn't give it a second thought.

"I'm glad. Goodnight, Jake."

"Goodnight."

Despite the reassurance from Jake, you descended into sleep with a pit in your gut. You could barely sleep with him next to you, thinking you could find a cure to every trouble that existed between you and him to fix it all. How could he say there'd be no changes when there's a bigger crack forming on your heart?

The next morning was like any other whenever Jake stayed over. An empty kitchen that allowed you to make some simple breakfast and after, you bid Jake goodbye for the moment before meeting him later on that day.

Upon stepping into your room, you spotted a black lump sitting under the window. It was Jake's backpack. He was already long gone from your apartment by then.

You advanced towards his backpack, held it up to move it somewhere else, but it only caused the contents inside to spill out. Knowing how clumsy Jake always was, you figured his backpack had been unzipped the entire time.

You glanced at the pile of mess littered on your floor, a clump of red catching your eyes amongst the rest. Curiosity got the best of you despite knowing you shouldn't pry, but the moment your fingers made contact with it, the question marks in your head increased by tenfold.

Spandex material. You pinched it at first, feeling the material against your skin, then you finally got the guts to hold it up entirely, revealing something far beyond expectations.

Spiderman suit?

Was it a fake one? Jake could've always bought it from Amazon. You held it closer for inspection, noticing how it was worn out, slight tears on the bottoms. It couldn't be a fake, something in you knew. The dried blood stains on some spots gave it away.

Everything made sense to you now. Jake being secretive, hiding the truth from you every time you asked, turning up hurt and disappearing at random times just for the news to report Spiderman's appearance after. All of them were finally connected in your head, and revelations about his suspiciousness were known by you.

It hit you. Jake was spiderman. Your best friend was that vigilante swinging around the city saving people and fighting crimes. He was the one who walked and swung you home. He always knew.

You let out a breath of disbelief, knees feeling weak and head spinning. How were you to shoulder the truth after this? Pretend like nothing's wrong when everything is wrong and weird. It was practically impossible to patch up the existing crack that continued to worsen.

Shoving Jake's belongings back into the bag, you shouldered it and made your way to his place. Your mind was in a haze, the thought of him being Spiderman was hard to wrap around. Sometimes ignorance was genuinely bliss, you wished this was one of those times.

You didn't know if it was a good or bad thing that Jake wasn't home when you turned up at his door, meeting a confused looking Aunt May instead. Apparently, Jake went out in search of his backpack that was currently in your hands, so you had no choice but to call him and wait for him to be back.

How could you not have spotted it sooner? Now that you're in his bedroom for possibly the millionth time, everything seems clearer. The map of the city stuck on his wall which had random scribbles and locations circled in red marker ink stood out to you, the box of medicine and ointments sat on his bedside table that you frequently ignored. All the signs were presented before your eyes without your knowledge.

"Hey, sorry for keeping you waiting," Jake closed his bedroom door after almost half an hour of waiting for his appearance. His hair was dishevelled, clearly panicked and alarmed.

"No, it's okay, we're supposed to meet up anyway," you sat up from lying on his bed, nodding at the backpack sitting on his desk. "Got your baby back,"

"Oh my God," he crossed the room with big steps and had zero hesitation when it came to unzipping it to check his belongings. "Did I leave it at your place?"

"You did,"

"Thought I left it out there somewhere," he murmured under his breath, then zipped the bag up. You knew why he was so secretive, and it made even more sense why he always brought it around.

Jake most likely felt your wandering eyes on him judging from the way he spun around and shielded his bag from view, trying to divert your attention away. "Want to watch a movie?"

How could you possibly say no? That sly prick.

You didn't indulge in his suspicious behaviour further now that you were aware of his secret, though you pretended not to. He did say he would reveal it to you soon, but that 'soon' was quite unknown. At this point, you didn't know who was going to be the first one to reveal it. Either you or him.

You spent half of the day binging on movies, ate an early dinner and then walked to the carnival together. Along the way there, you couldn't stop yourself from taking quick glances at Jake. The street lights illuminated his features under the darkening sky, the loud chatter of the crowd drowned out and it was only him in your world. Even as he asked you questions, you blindly nodded to most of them.

How could you not fall for him? He bought you drinks without question, won you prizes at those booths, held your hand as you walked through the crowds. It was as if Jake Sim himself was blind enough to not know what he was doing to you.

"Enjoying the night?" Jake threw his arm around your shoulder ever so casually that it had you holding your breath for a minute.

"You won me a big bear, of course I am," you held onto the stuffed toy tightly, grinning at the memory of Jake winning during his first try.

"What's next? Wanna stop by that art and craft booth then we go on the ferris wheel?" Jake definitely did know his way into your heart.

"Sounds good,"

You thought the night would eventually end with peace and quiet, but before it could even end, it had been ruined beyond belief.

The big screen suddenly flashed to a news reporter, the background looking chaotic and people were fleeing. It was live news, the whole thing was happening as you breathed. You and Jake stood rooted, staring at the big screen just like many others did, listening in on the broadcast.

'Just in, a monstrous creature was seen terrorizing and climbing along the Oscorp building. It was spotted not long ago, but now it has disappeared into the building, its whereabouts unknown. Workers of Oscorp have fled the building, but not all of them, some were said to be present in the building until now.'

You glanced at Jake, a sinking feeling in your gut. It was a sour thought knowing he's about to get himself in danger yet again, but having him bailing once more cut deeper than a falling knife. As a human, you wanted him to save lives and the city. However, you were also his best friend, and you hated to be selfish, but you just wanted him to be there without having to leave every single moment.

The conflict in your eyes matched Jake's, who was evidently struggling with himself. You tried to mask it, yet hurt and sadness was hard to ignore or hide.

"Oscorp … Gwen," the faint hush of a murmur was audible under his breath, causing you to cock your head at him.

"What?"

"I–I, Y/N, I have an emergency," he removed his arm around you, the hold on his backpack strap tightened.

"Jake," to scream at him? Let him leave? All of the above? You struggled with your emotions as you tried to understand and empathise, you always did, but couldn't you just have him this one time?

"I'm sorry …" his voice was weak, he knew how much pain and hurt he caused you, and retreating away from your disappointed face wasn't going to solve anything, just the problem downtown, but not the cracks that were forming right now.

"I know, Jake," you shouted when he was a distance away from you. He turned around, eyes widened and pupils blown, a mix of confusion and surprise painted his features. "I know about you,"

He was breathless, he didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He left without a trace, and once again, you were left alone to fend for yourself. You wanted to understand, you do, but it was hard.

You glanced at the big screen for one last time, uttering a silent curse under your breath, and decided to head to where the scene was. Crazy? Stupid? You were everything described. That was probably why you and Jake were best friends.

Taking the cab was one of the stupidest decisions you made, and that excluded the part where you're literally bringing yourself to danger. Thanks to whatever that was terrorising the Oscorp building, the traffic was heavier than usual, so you had no choice but to run on foot. It was the most running you ever did all year.

You wondered if it was a good idea to even be there. Answer: no. The police cars were everywhere, all of which were stationed with police that were armed with rifles. A helicopter circled the building, several broadcasting stations and their reporters were present too. It was a mess.

"What's happening here?" You were practically out of breath, panting, as you asked a random bystander there.

"Some freakish lizard creature. I think Spiderman swung into the building to save the remaining victims. They were all rescued but Spiderman's still fighting in there,"

"You saw him? Spiderman?"

"I did! Red suit, white webs, he was so heroic when he crashed through the glass panels,"

"That's the one," you said unnervingly, disliking the uncertainty of it all. Jake was putting himself in danger and you could do nothing about it. How long did this go on for? You were left in the dark for far too long.

Soon, which almost felt like forever, you saw a speck of red escaping from the gap in the building with somebody in hand. You held your breath out of anxiety, heart thumping, listening in on all the noises and reports coming from everywhere around you.

"There he is! Spiderman!" A reporter appeared next to you, absolutely transfixed with the superhero slinging through the dark sky and eventually landing in the distance. "He has the last hostage in hand! A girl!"

A girl?

You pushed past the crowd, trying to get a closer look at Spiderman and the entire scene before you. There he was, speaking to the police, but there was somebody else too. Gwen Stacy.

An overwhelming feeling crashed down on you like a heavy weight of boulders falling from the sky. Confusion, hurt, heartbreak, altogether they penetrated you harder than you could manage to breathe. One step, two step, you took many steps back before turning away and hailing for a cab home.

He wasn't yours, and he wasn't yours to lose either.

Returning home to an empty apartment was nothing new, except it did hit differently this time. Your heart was empty, mind in a haze, it was as if your narrator had drawn swirls over your head. You wished things had turned out in another way. You and Jake, how you found out about his secret, him hiding his secret. If only all of them had another ending than what you had in the present.

You sat slumped over in bed, the desk lamp was the only thing that provided light for the darkness in your room. The shadow looming over your window went unnoticed by you. That was until a series of knocks sounded and you jumped out of bed in alert, finding it strange how there was nothing once your eyes trained on your window.

Well, there goes your future.

You stepped a little closer. Just then, the window was jerked open by some unseen force, a red cladded face peeking his head into frame. Spiderman, or more accurately, Jake, was standing on your fire escape again.

He dropped his backpack onto your bedroom floor, letting himself in wordlessly. You stared at him, not knowing whether to speak first or let him be the one to do it. After all, he had left you hanging, it's the least he could do.

Jake pulled off the mask from his head, revealing a rather beat up face and messy, dishevelled hair that was coated with sweat. "You knew?"

His voice was tired, but the confusion and hurt punctuated through his words. He inched close to you, but you took a step back, unable to meet his gaze.

"Well, it wasn't a long time," you muttered. "Just today, actually … coincidentally,"

"How?"

"Your backpack. I swear I didn't look through it, it was unzipped and when I picked it up, everything spilled out. Your suit revealed it all," you chewed at your bottom lip, Jake's eyes boring into yours, the prickling feeling of anxiety crawled all over your skin. "I didn't want to find out this way either,"

"I'm sorry for not telling you earlier. I wanted to, trust me, you're one of the closest people I have in my life. But I just didn't know when or how to break it to you. I wanted to protect you, to keep you safe," he was equally guilty for hiding it for a long time, but you understood the reason behind it. Being a hero comes with a great responsibility, that was what movies taught you anyway.

"Jake, I know, and it's okay, but I just wish to be selfish for a little. I want you to be here with me, to be there for me a–and be my best friend for a minute," you felt yourself losing the will to speak as seconds passed by. "I feel like I'm losing you,"

"You're not. I'm here," he pressed his palm against his heart, stepping closer until he was barely a few inches away. "Always,"

"I don't want to lose you, Jake," your voice wavered, a clear sheen of tears glazed your eyes. "I'm in love with you," your words came out in a whisper, a hushed confession that spilled with no warning, coming from the deepest, darkest pits of your heart. Even then, you couldn't believe you had actually said it, stilling in place and blinking in shock.

Jake's breath hitched, his movements frozen. You wondered about the possible scenarios you were about to face, ones that you thought of whenever you had the urge to spill your love confession. All of them certainly didn't prepare you for what was happening next.

"I'm sorry," shock turned into instant panic. Your hands shot out to create a small distance between you and him. "Ignore what I just said. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable—"

Jake didn't say much, and in a swift motion, he grabbed a hold of your hand, pulled you into him. One hand holding your wrist, the other cupping your face to tilt your head and his lips met yours.

You could barely register it. The weight of his mouth against yours created a mass of fireworks in both your head and stomach. The shock evaporated from your body and relief took its spot. You melted against his touch, leaning your body closer to his.

Jake kissed you like no man could have ever done. He left a part of himself, imprinted his every unspoken word into a deep and passionate kiss. You wondered if this was what it felt like being loved by him.

Forever was what you wished for when it came to kissing him. Yet, it eventually came to an end just like every one of your favourite movies. This time, however, you weren't disappointed, you were glad.

"Don't apologise. Y/N, I'm in love with you too," his hand on your cheek remained, the dim light managed to bring out the sparks in his pupils. It was your turn to be confused. Didn't he have a crush? "I know what you're thinking. Gwen—" it's freaky how he always knew, "—I was kinda dumb, to be honest. I was always in love with you but it took me years and a girl to only realise that,

"She was nothing like you. The more I got to know her, the more I thought of you. I wasn't trying to like her, I was trying to find a piece of you in her. Being the coward that I am, I ran away from facing the thought of liking you, I didn't want to ruin our friendship. So, I kept on entertaining the thoughts of liking Gwen instead, but none of it was real. You're the one who's constantly taking up space in my mind, in my heart,"

The fireworks from earlier exploded ten folds in your mind. You couldn't believe you were experiencing every passing moment listening to Jake's confession. He felt the same way as you did for him. He has had the same pining for you like the same way you had for him. Years, years of unspoken romantic love for one another that both were too scared to touch upon.

Jake took your shell shocked silence as an opportunity to continue on. "I'm sorry for standing you up all the time. I'm sorry for hiding the truth from you. I'm sorry for avoiding you. I'm sorry for not realising it sooner. But I love you, Y/N. You're my best friend, more than anything, you're the only person I want to have occupying my mind all the Goddamn time,"

"Jake," your hand travelled to place itself onto his which rested on your face. "I love you too," you laced your hand into his, the intimacy that would've been seen platonic days ago was now something more than that. You and him both felt the shift, it was apparent.

"I don't care that you're Spiderman," you continued, not once breaking eye contact with him, letting him stare into yours as you did the same. "You're Jake to me, you forever will be, and that's all that matters,"

Jake's delicate features melted into a smile. His pretty smile that had you swooning was on display like a trophy, influencing you enough to crack a small grin too. He looped an arm around your waist, dipping you slightly and pressing a haste kiss on your lips, then your cheeks.

"I guess I can now say I've swung into your heart," he teasingly sent a wink flying at you, to which you responded with an eye roll. Some things never changed, but his ego definitely was inflated now.

"Shut up before I kick you out," you threw a light punch at his shoulder, which he dodged almost unsuccessfully. "Come on, let's patch you up then we can go to bed," you patted his shoulder, walking towards your bathroom.

"Demanding," he whistled under his breath, picking up his discarded mask from the floor.

"Don't make me add a black eye to your face,"

"But you like my pretty face,"

"You want to test it out?"

"Okay, okay. I'm coming."

The night eventually ended with Jake being patched up and sleeping on your bed instead of his usual spot on the ground. These little changes was what you anticipated most, but other than that, it was safe to say nothing would be changing when it came to your and Jake's relationship. If anything, it was about to be stronger.

So what if he was Spiderman? At least you knew Spiderman was yours, and he had indeed swung into your heart.

Dating your best friend who had a secret identity was fun.

You got to discuss maths in school and listen to his adventures after. Not to mention, he would swing you around New York City at times once the clock striked past midnight. No other girl was going to get a date like this. Ten out of ten, you may add.

With the fun came the terror. You do fear for Jake's safety almost every time he's out, and it has become a routine to patch him up till the point where you had to restock your emergency kit. This time was like no other when Jake appeared through the window soundlessly in his Spiderman suit.

"Hey," he was breathless, tumbling over the window still.

You jumped, not even realising his appearance. "What the hell? Jake? Oh my God," you got up right away to support his tired body, but he ended up sliding down onto the ground anyway.

"Are you injured anywhere? Bleeding?" You checked for his body, trying to spot any obvious cuts, making yourself comfortable in the space between his legs.

"No," his hand reached for the end of his mask, pulling it up halfway only to reveal his lips. "Can I get a kiss?"

"Are you serious?"

"I am dead serious,"

You rolled your eyes, leaning down to press a kiss on his lips that eventually widened into a satisfied smile. You gently slapped his face, eliciting a sweet laugh from him and with a tug of his hand, he fully removed the mask from his head, revealing his pretty face that you missed.

"I got something for you," his hand reached out to brush your hair away from your face, his touch ever so gentle when it came to you. He dug something out of his bag, pulling out a fresh bouquet of flowers. "Ta-da,"

"Flowers?" You accepted the bouquet from him, noticing all of your favourite flowers in it. He remembered, even the littlest details about you, he remembered them all.

"I got them on the way here," you raised an eyebrow at him. He threw his hands up in defence. "Hey, I didn't steal them. I actually paid for them. They gave me a discount too because I was in my suit,"

You resisted a smile. "You're unbelievable,"

"Unbelievably cute? Romantic? Handsome?" He leaned in closer to you, noses close enough to brush against one another.

"Go away," you squeezed his cheek, and he just let you do so without any fight. You threw your arms around his neck, hugging him briefly. "I like them,"

"What about me?"

"I like you too,"

"But I like you more,"

You threw your head back laughing, a simple sound which was enough to have Jake's heart racing. "We're not making this into a competition, stupid. Now, go shower or else you're not sleeping on my bed,"

"But—"

"Nope. Shower or get exiled,"

"Fine," he dragged his body up sluggishly, looking almost like a puppy being forced to his dismay: the shower. "You're not joining me?"

"Don't make me chase you out." you threw a pillow at him that he skillfully dodged. Damn his spider senses. His laughter echoed around your bedroom until he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of it gave comfort to you and your beating heart.

Things might've changed a little in different aspects, but you knew nothing could change you or Jake altogether. He was your best friend and lover no matter what he was. Spiderman or loverboy, he was everything to you. All you knew was that he was going to be by your side no matter what, protecting your heart alongside the city.

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untitlzd · 13 days ago

Text

rich boys call it love

top!yang jungwon x btm!male reader smut, angst

After the blog makes Y/n’s day unbearable, he disappears—just for a night. Somewhere quiet, somewhere gold-lit. Jungwon’s penthouse is warmer than it should be, his voice softer than Y/n remembers. There’s no pressure. No questions. Just a glass in his hand, the city far below, and a boy who swears he only wants to keep him safe.

a continuation of "rich boys don't lose."

warnings: elitism, power dynamics, degrading, rough sex, unprotected sex, no prep, drugs, manipulation, yandere jungwon, lowkey inspired by gossip girl

Y/n hadn’t expected to sleep. Not after everything. But morning came anyway—unforgiving and too bright, the kind of light that made everything feel exposed. There was no hiding from it, not even under the covers. Especially not from himself.

His body ached in ways he didn’t have names for. His head was heavy, fogged with too many thoughts and not enough answers. He showered in silence, dried off like muscle memory, stared at his reflection longer than he meant to. He couldn’t tell if he looked different. Maybe it was all in his eyes.

The guilt came in slow waves—quiet at first, then heavier the longer he sat with it.

He had walked into that firm. Willingly. Worn something clean, something decent, like he was doing something respectable. Like it wasn’t betrayal stitched into every step he took across that marble floor. He could still hear the way his father’s voice would’ve cracked if he ever found out—that kind of disappointment, the one that doesn’t need yelling to leave a scar.

And worse, he didn’t regret walking in.

Not in the beginning.

That was the part that stung the most. He went for revenge. For the thrill. For some stupid, short-lived taste of control. But he stayed for Jay. For the way Jay looked at him—like he already knew Y/n would fold. And then he did.

Y/n squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenching.

He’d been stupid. Naive. So fucking easy to read, and easier to use. And now, after everything, he didn’t even know if he hated Jay for what he did—or hated himself for not hating it more.

He sat at the edge of his bed in full uniform, hands limp between his knees, the collar of his shirt suddenly too tight. His stomach twisted.

It wasn’t the blog. Wasn’t the silence. Wasn’t even the fear of someone finding out.

It was the shame.

And not the kind people could see. The quiet kind. The kind that buried itself deep in your chest and echoed when no one else was around.

He had done something he swore he wouldn’t. With someone he swore he hated. In a place he never should’ve been.

And still… a part of him wanted to go back.

That was the worst of it.

By the time Y/n stepped onto campus, St. Augustine’s looked the same. Polished. Controlled. Unreal, in the way all expensive things feel just slightly detached from the world around them.

But something inside him had shifted.

It wasn’t dramatic. There were no fireworks, no breakdowns. Just a dull, persistent weight behind his ribs—like he’d swallowed guilt and it hadn’t dissolved.

His footsteps echoed in the south hallway. No one looked twice.

He passed groups huddled around notes, students half-laughing through their panic, and a few legacy kids too rich to care. His mind wandered through memories he didn’t ask for—Jay’s voice, Jay’s hands, the heat of that glass wall pressing into his cheek like it could swallow him whole.

He tried to shake it off.

Then he saw Jake.

Just outside the lecture hall, casually leaned against the wall, one hand in his pocket, the other spinning a pen between his fingers like he was born to make everything look easy. His hair was perfect. Smile half-there. People around him—two girls, one guy—were practically orbiting.

And yet, Jake was staring directly at him.

Not for long. Just a flicker. A glance that felt like it held too much weight and not enough care. Then Jake looked away.

He didn’t say hi. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t slide in close to whisper something suggestive like he usually did.

Y/n hated that it got to him.

Inside the building, Sunghoon was sitting on the windowsill near the library’s east wing. One leg crossed over the other, a hardcover resting on his lap like he might open it, though he clearly had no intention of doing so. His uniform was immaculate. Posture perfect. Not a single crease out of place.

He didn’t look up as Y/n passed. But he didn’t have to.

His stillness was enough.

Sunghoon didn’t need to speak to make you feel like you were being watched. Judged. Picked apart in silence.

Y/n walked faster.

He pushed open the classroom door, hoping to get to a seat unnoticed. He didn’t. Someone called his name—softly, politely—and when he turned, it was Jungwon.

Jungwon was always polite.

He had a smile that felt genuine. A warmth in his voice that didn’t seem rehearsed. There were rumors about his family—something about luxury hotels overseas, always in the best parts of the world—but Jungwon never bragged. Never even brought it up.

“Hey,” he said, nodding to the empty seat beside him. “Sit?”

Y/n blinked. Then nodded.

It wasn’t that they were close. They weren’t. But there was something calming about Jungwon’s presence—like he hadn’t yet learned how cruel people could be, or maybe he had and chose to ignore it.

“You okay?” Jungwon asked quietly, once Y/n was seated.

Y/n hesitated. “Just tired.”

Jungwon didn’t press.

Class began. Y/n tried to focus. Tried to listen. Tried to keep his hands steady and his breathing even and his thoughts anywhere but there.

But then—Jay walked in.

Late, of course. Always late.

His tie was loose. Shirt unbuttoned just enough to show collarbone. He wore arrogance like cologne—light, expensive, and unmistakable. He walked past the professor without flinching, slouched into a chair three rows ahead, and—without even turning—smirked.

Y/n didn’t need to see his face to know.

He could feel it.

And Jungwon, maybe sensing the shift, nudged Y/n gently beneath the desk. Not invasive. Just… present.

Y/n swallowed hard. Tried to nod. Tried to be grateful.

But all he could think about was the wall. The heat. The sound of Jay’s voice in his ear.

And how he had let it happen.

Y/n kept his eyes on the front of the room, but his mind refused to stay there. The words on the board blurred. The professor’s voice was distant, muted, like it was coming from behind glass. His pen tapped against the desk—not loud, but steady enough to annoy himself.

Then his phone buzzed.

Once. Twice. Then silence.

He didn’t check it immediately. Didn’t have to. He knew that kind of silence—the way the air shifted just slightly, the way people stopped pretending they weren’t scrolling through something they shouldn’t be reading.

Y/n reached for his phone slowly, already bracing for it.

New post. Fresh. Barely a minute old.

"Some people will do anything for attention. Even walk into buildings their fathers would rather set fire to."

"But it’s okay. No one saw, right?"

"Except the cameras." "And us."

"Hope it was worth it."

Below the caption was a photo. Grainy, but clear enough.

Y/n. Walking through the polished lobby of Park & Co. Head high. Shoulders back. Like he belonged there.

His stomach dropped.

The picture wasn’t incriminating. Not directly. There was no context, no timestamp, no tag. But St. Augustine didn’t need context. It needed implication—and the blog always knew exactly how to weaponize that.

Jungwon shifted beside him, glancing at his own screen. His brows knit, just barely. He didn’t say anything, but Y/n felt the weight of it anyway.

Three rows ahead, Jay didn’t move.

Not at first.

But then his head tilted—subtle, slow—and one hand rose to his mouth, like he was covering a laugh that never made it out.

Y/n’s ears burned.

He stared straight ahead, chest tight, fingers curling around the phone still resting in his lap.

He should’ve known.

Silence here was never peace. It was just the calm before your name turned into currency—passed between hands, whispered behind backs, traded in looks.

And his time was up.

The room hadn’t changed, but it felt like it had. The light overhead was too cold. The walls too still. Something about the air made his skin itch, like the oxygen itself had been replaced with attention.

He didn’t look around, but he didn’t need to. He could feel it. The shift. The pull. A flicker of someone’s eyes. The edge of a whisper barely concealed behind a hand. Fingers scrolling too quickly to be subtle. He could hear the rustle of screenshots being taken in silence.

Y/n’s jaw clenched, his fingers wrapped tight around the pen in his lap, like if he held it hard enough, it would anchor him. Like it could ground him through the rush of heat crawling up his neck.

He had known this would happen. Had felt it the second he stepped into that firm, the second the elevator doors shut behind him.

But knowing didn’t make it easier.

It wasn’t just the blog post. Not really. It was the weight of what it implied—what it didn’t say. Because that was always the most dangerous part. The blog never needed to state names or tell the whole story. It only had to point. And people would fill in the blanks with whatever version of you they wanted to believe.

Three rows ahead, Jay was lounging like he belonged to the room. Like the tension didn’t touch him. He hadn’t looked back once. He didn’t need to. The way his fingers tapped idly against the desk, the tiny tilt to his head—he was comfortable.

He was proud.

And Y/n hated him for it.

The class dragged on, the professor’s voice bleeding into white noise. Y/n didn’t catch a single sentence. His knee bounced under the desk. He kept his hands in his lap, trying not to scroll, not to re-read. But it was there anyway—the post, the photo, the words—that sick feeling in his gut that told him this wouldn’t go away in a day. Not like the others. Not like before.

And beside him, Jungwon sat quietly, shoulders still, eyes forward. He hadn’t said a word since class began, but Y/n felt the glance when the post dropped. He’d seen it too.

They all had.

When the class finally ended, the scraping of chairs sounded louder than usual. Y/n moved fast—shoving his things into his bag, movements stiff, mechanical. He just wanted out. He needed air. He needed—

“Hey,” Jungwon said softly. “Are you—”

“I’m fine.”

It came out too quick. Too sharp. He knew it the moment it hit the air.

Jungwon blinked, startled, but nodded once and said nothing else.

Y/n didn’t wait. He walked out with his head low and his heart somewhere behind his ribs, thudding against the bones like it wanted out.

He didn’t know where he was going. Just that he needed to not be seen for a second. To be alone.

But alone wasn’t something you got here.

Not after the blog had your name in its mouth.

The hallway was colder now. Or maybe Y/n was just noticing it—how the air curled under his collar like fingers brushing his spine. His steps echoed louder than usual, even though no one looked his way. He could feel eyes, though. Imagined or not. They pressed against his back the way shame sometimes did—soft at first, then unbearable.

He didn’t head to the dining hall. Didn’t head to the courtyard. Instead, he just… wandered. Let the corridors guide him, let his thoughts spill into the gaps between footsteps. And god, there were so many thoughts.

Jake. The way his hands always found Y/n’s thighs under tables. The way his voice dropped in empty hallways just to say things no one else should hear. He never asked, never warned—just touched, lingered, hovered. And yet… Y/n never pulled away. Jake knew that too. That’s what made it worse. There was something behind his gaze, something too focused to be casual. Something that clung to Y/n like heat.

Then there was Sunghoon. Cold. Controlled. Beautiful in that way porcelain is—untouchable, expensive, sharp when cracked. What happened between them hadn’t been warm, but it had left heat behind. A bruise blooming just beneath the skin, one Y/n kept pressing on. Sunghoon never asked for anything, just expected it. And Y/n gave it. Willingly. That was the part that rattled.

Jay… was different. Violent, almost. Not in action—at least not always—but in presence. He overwhelmed, consumed. Every word a taunt, every touch a dare. But it hadn’t been forced. That was the worst part. Y/n could’ve left. Could’ve said no. But he didn’t. Something about the way Jay pulled him apart made him stay. Something about being seen in all the wrong ways, and still wanted.

Except… none of them really wanted him. Not the way that mattered. He was a game piece. A distraction. A moment of entertainment before the next scandal rolled in. And he’d let himself be moved across their board like it didn’t hurt. Like it didn’t leave cracks.

“Hey.”

Jungwon’s voice broke through the fog—gentle, light, as if he hadn’t been following Y/n through the crowd, letting the space between them close slowly.

Y/n turned. He tried for a smile, but it felt thin, like a bandaid over something bleeding. Jungwon didn’t seem to mind. He stepped closer, eyes soft, searching.

“You don’t have to talk,” he said quietly, “but if you need to get away… I have a place.”

Y/n blinked. “A place?”

Jungwon nodded once, that same soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “My parents’ penthouse. Upper East Side. They’re gone until the weekend.”

Y/n hesitated. Not because of the offer, but because it sounded so… kind. So safe. No sharp edges. No expectations.

“No pressure,” Jungwon added, like he could read every hesitation as it formed. “Just thought you might want quiet. Real quiet.”

Y/n looked at him. Really looked. At the way Jungwon held himself—gentle, noninvasive. There was no glint of challenge in his gaze. No games. Just calm.

And yet, something about it didn’t feel small. It felt intentional.

Still, Y/n nodded. “Yeah… maybe.”

“Later tonight?”

“Okay.”

They stood there for a moment—neither moving, neither quite knowing what to say. Then Jungwon smiled again, said he’d text the address, and slipped away with all the grace of someone who didn’t need to be noticed to matter.

Y/n turned toward the gates, the end of the day pressing down on his shoulders. His driver would be waiting out front, same as always. He just needed to get there without running into—

“Y/n.”

The voice stopped him cold.

Not loud. Not urgent. Just… familiar.

He turned.

Jake stood beside the black car waiting at the curb, his own driver leaning against the hood, disinterested. Jake’s tie was loose again, blazer slung over his shoulder like it was an afterthought.

He didn’t smile. Just looked. Quiet. Intent.

And Y/n?

Y/n froze.

Because some things, no matter how far you run, find you again at the car door.

Jake didn’t say anything right away. He just leaned against the sleek black car like it was an extension of himself, hands in his pockets, posture loose but watchful. His eyes flicked over Y/n in a way that wasn’t sharp, but wasn’t soft either—just aware. Present. He looked like he was debating something, jaw tight, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek before he spoke.

“If you ever need anything…” Jake started, then paused. His gaze shifted away for a second, toward the other side of the street, like the sentence had slipped out before he could stop it. “I don’t know. Just—let me know.”

The words landed awkwardly between them. Not forced, but unpolished. Like Jake didn’t know how to be sincere unless he was three drinks deep or had you against a wall.

Y/n didn’t answer. Not because he didn’t hear him, but because he didn’t know what to do with it. His fingers twitched slightly at his side, like the impulse to respond physically—to shrug it off, to scoff, to pretend it hadn’t happened—was fighting with something else. Something that made his stomach twist.

Because for all the wrong things Jake had said to him, all the times he’d brushed fingers too low or let his hand linger too long, this felt… worse. Not cruel. Not manipulative. Just real. And Y/n didn’t know what to do with real.

Jake must’ve felt it too, that weird shift in the air between them, because he didn’t say anything else. Didn’t press. He just gave a single nod—tight, barely there—before pulling open the door to the car.

He climbed in without looking back.

The door shut with a dull click, the kind that echoed more than it should have.

Y/n stood on the curb, the breeze tugging lightly at the hem of his uniform. He caught a glimpse of himself reflected in the car’s tinted windows—half-there, distorted by the glare. He looked tired. Small. Like someone standing too close to something they didn’t understand.

And somehow, that felt exactly right.

He didn’t know what that moment with Jake meant. Didn’t know if it was an apology, or a warning, or just another loose thread waiting to unravel. But it scared him more than if Jake had smirked and said nothing. Because there was something worse than being used.

It was being seen.

The ride back to his building was quiet.

Too quiet.

The kind that made you feel like your own thoughts were too loud, like they bounced off the inside of the car and came back sharper. Y/n didn’t even look at his phone. He didn’t want to know what else the world had to say about him today.

By the time he stepped into the penthouse, the silence followed.

Everything was exactly where it always was. Polished marble floors. Soft lights. Furniture picked for form, not comfort. He could still smell whatever the cook had prepared earlier, though no one had waited for him to eat. Not that he expected them to.

His father was probably still downtown—working late, making calls, pulling whatever strings were left to pull in a city that only respected you when you bled for it. He’d spent years trying to make their last name mean something. Not just money, but legacy. Respect. Something that couldn’t be whispered away in scandals or erased in blog posts.

His mother? Probably out again. Some charity dinner, some silent auction. She was always moving, always smiling, always just out of reach.

It was just him.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Y/n didn’t bother turning on more lights. The apartment was already dim, the Manhattan skyline stretching out behind the windows in a wash of steel and blue. The sky looked cold—muted grays bleeding into deeper ones. Not quite night, not quite day. That in-between hour where everything felt a little too honest.

He dropped his bag at the entrance, kicked his shoes off without care, and sank onto the edge of the couch like gravity had finally caught up to him.

The silence wasn’t peaceful. It was heavy. Draining. Like the whole day had wrung him out and left him hollow.

His mind drifted—back to the classroom, the way Jungwon had looked at him. Not with pity. Not with amusement. Just… with presence. Like he didn’t want anything from him. Like he could hold space for what Y/n couldn’t say out loud.

And then, there was the offer.

“You should come by sometime,” Jungwon had said, casually. “My parents are out of town. It’s quiet. I think you’d like it.”

Upper East Side. A penthouse. Of course.

He hadn’t committed to it. Just nodded. Just said he’d think about it.

And now, with the apartment swallowing him whole, the echo of everything he’d done sitting too close to the surface, he found himself actually considering it.

Not because he wanted comfort. Not even because he thought Jungwon could give it.

But because he was tired.

So fucking tired of being alone in rooms that looked like they belonged in magazines. Tired of sitting in silence while the weight of Jake’s hands still burned on his hips, while Sunghoon’s gaze still lived on the back of his neck, while Jay’s voice still played like static in his ear.

They’d all touched him.

In different ways.

Jake with the softest cruelty—fingers brushing his thigh, tongue in his mouth, acting like it meant nothing and everything all at once. Like he was just collecting pieces of Y/n to keep in his pocket. And yet, somewhere in the space between Jake’s smirks and his silences, there was something else. Something darker. More possessive. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t kindness. But it was close enough to almost feel like care.

Sunghoon had been colder. More brutal. A storm in stillness. He never needed to say much—his hands had done the talking. Y/n remembered the way he was pinned to tile and marble, remembered the teeth, the hands, the demand. It should’ve made him feel small.

It didn’t.

It made him feel something he wasn’t proud of. Something deeper. Like maybe being wanted—even cruelly—was better than not being seen at all.

And Jay. Jay was chaos. Fire dressed in privilege. Y/n had walked into that office thinking he had the upper hand and left with handprints on his skin and a part of himself he didn’t know how to name. Jay hadn’t lied to him. Hadn’t hidden behind charm. He’d used him—completely, thoroughly—and Y/n had let him. Had wanted it.

That was the part that kept him up.

Because some fucked-up part of him liked it. The powerlessness. The control. The shame.

His fingers twitched in his lap.

He leaned forward, pressing his elbows to his knees, staring down at the silent city. Manhattan looked beautiful from up here—unreachable, indifferent. He hated it for that. He hated that it looked cleaner than he felt.

The invite from Jungwon sat in his mind like a soft light through a crack in the door.

He didn’t know what he expected from it. Maybe nothing. Maybe just a break from the noise. Or maybe the illusion of being wanted for something other than how easily he could be broken.

His phone buzzed again.

He picked it up.

Jungwon: Let me know when you’re on the way. Elevator will be open for you.

Y/n stared at the message, thumb hovering over the screen.

And for the first time all day, something in his chest shifted.

The hours passed in fragments.

Time didn’t move the way it usually did—no clean rhythm, no steady pull toward evening. It dragged. Slow. Sludgy. Like the day itself had gotten stuck somewhere and was refusing to end.

Y/n didn’t move much from the couch. Just shifted positions when the stiffness got too uncomfortable. Once onto his side, once back again. The TV played in the background—something muted, some show he wasn’t really watching. His phone lay face down on the coffee table. He hadn’t touched it in hours.

Every now and then, a housekeeper passed through the room—quiet, efficient, polite in the way expensive training taught you to be. They didn’t ask questions. Didn’t hover. One of them brought a tray with tea he hadn’t requested. Another adjusted the pillows near his feet, like that might help somehow.

He offered them a small nod, a quiet thank you, and they disappeared again.

It wasn’t pity. It was caution. They were trying to be kind without being noticed. Trying to make things feel normal without asking why he looked like a ghost in his own home.

He hated that it helped.

His eyes drifted to the edge of the coffee table, then to the phone.

He thought about Jake again.

About that moment outside the gates, the way he’d spoken—not teasing, not cruel, just… off. Like the words didn’t come naturally. Like he’d meant them more than he wanted to admit.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

Y/n had replayed it once. Then twice. The tone, the weight, the way Jake looked at him. It hadn’t felt fake. Not quite. But it hadn’t felt selfless either.

Nothing Jake did ever was.

He wondered if Jake actually cared. If that line was his version of concern—or just another way to keep Y/n tangled in his orbit. A soft leash instead of a hard grip. A hint that he still had a hold, even when he didn’t tug.

It didn’t matter.

He wasn’t going to text him. Not tonight.

Y/n turned his head to the windows. The sky was darker now, bleeding into the kind of purple that Manhattan wore well. Lights flickered on across the skyline like stars that cost too much.

He exhaled. Slow. Deep. Letting the weight settle again.

His eyes dropped back to his phone.

Jungwon.

He still hadn’t answered the message. Hadn’t confirmed anything. It would’ve been easy to stay right where he was, blame the mood, claim exhaustion. To not go. To disappear into his own silence.

But something about that didn’t sit right.

Jungwon hadn’t asked for anything. Hadn’t pushed. He’d just been… there. Present in a way that didn’t demand anything from him. Kind, but not performative. Soft, but not naïve.

It wasn’t the kind of comfort Y/n was used to. But maybe that’s why it stuck.

And maybe, after everything—after Jake’s cold looks, Sunghoon’s judgment, Jay’s cruel smirk—maybe he didn’t want to feel wanted.

Maybe he just wanted to feel normal.

Y/n pushed himself off the couch with a groan, limbs stiff from too long in one place. He stretched, rolled his shoulders, ran a hand through his hair and blinked at the weight behind his eyes.

Then he turned and made his way to the bathroom.

The water ran hot, almost scalding, but he didn’t flinch. He stepped in and let it soak into his skin, let it press the day out of his muscles, let it melt the stiffness from his limbs. The steam rose thick around him, curling against the mirror, fogging out the pieces of himself he didn’t want to see. He washed slowly, methodically, as if the warmth could erase everything that had happened—if only for a little while.

By the time he stepped out, the bathroom was a cloud. His skin was flushed, his breath calmer. Not whole, but clearer.

He dressed in something soft. Comfortable, but decent. Just enough to say I’m okay without having to lie.

He picked up his phone. Typed out a short reply.

Y/n: I’ll be there tonight.

No emoji. No extra words.

He didn’t need them.

It wasn’t about what Jungwon wanted. Or what the blog would say. Or what the others would assume.

It was just… something to do. Somewhere to go. A break in the noise.

He set the phone down and stood at the window for a while, watching the city flicker to life.

And somewhere beneath the shame, beneath the exhaustion, beneath the day that had drained him down to his bones—there was a flicker of something else.

Something small. Something quiet.

Maybe not hope.

But something close.

Y/n left the apartment just after nine.

The air outside bit against his skin in that early spring way—sharp, clean, tinged with the perfume of wet concrete and distant traffic. His driver stood by the car with the door already open, waiting in that familiar stillness that came with being paid well enough not to speak unless spoken to. Y/n nodded once in greeting and slid into the backseat. No words. No music. Just the thrum of tires on pavement and the way the city slid past the windows like a memory too fast to grasp.

He spent the ride thinking—not in full thoughts, but in fragments. Flashes. Jake’s face outside the gates. Sunghoon’s silence. Jay’s smirk in the classroom like he hadn’t done anything at all. It all blurred into a low ache in the back of his skull, quiet but insistent, pressing down with every block they passed.

The Upper East Side was different at night. Calmer. Richer. Less of the neon chaos of downtown and more of the kind of quiet that came with old money—money that didn’t have to announce itself because it had already bought the world twice over. The building Jungwon lived in was like that: tall, discreet, with doormen that didn’t look twice and an elevator that opened directly into the apartment with a soft chime.

Y/n stood there for a second. Just long enough to ask himself why he was doing this. Why, after the week he’d had, he was still showing up at someone else’s door—why he still wanted to be seen.

But the door opened before he could think himself out of it.

And there was Jungwon.

No shoes. A soft, oversized sweater hanging loose on his frame. His hair slightly mussed, like he’d been laying down a moment ago. “Hey,” he said, warm and simple, like he hadn’t been waiting but somehow still expected him. “Come in.”

The penthouse didn’t feel like most he’d seen. It wasn’t sterile or cold or dripping in sleek, impersonal design. It felt like someone lived there. Really lived. There were floor-to-ceiling windows, yes—but also heavy curtains, half-drawn. Plush armchairs. A shelf of records and another lined with books, not for show but for reading. A fireplace sat low and humming. A candle burned near the kitchen in a cut-glass jar, citrus and sage curling through the air like a soft reminder that this place had soul.

Jungwon didn’t offer a tour. He didn’t need to. Everything about the space felt natural—like an invitation already extended.

Y/n stepped inside slowly, scanning the room like it might vanish if he blinked too fast. A glass of water already sat on the edge of the counter. The lighting was low, golden, as if even the lamps understood that tonight required softness.

“How was your day?” Jungwon asked, voice barely above a murmur.

Y/n didn’t answer right away. He crossed to the window instead, gaze catching on the skyline—those too-bright towers stacked against a navy sky, everything shining and hollow. “It was loud,” he said after a beat. “Even when no one was speaking.”

Jungwon didn’t ask for more. Didn’t nod like he understood. He just stood beside him for a moment, shoulder not quite touching, and let the silence settle like dust between them.

They didn’t talk about the blog. Or Jay. Or the photo. Jungwon didn’t try to guess how it had felt to see his own shame stamped beneath a caption meant to humiliate. He didn’t ask what Y/n had expected when he’d walked into that firm, or why he hadn’t run the second things turned cruel.

Instead, he walked toward the couch and sat down with the kind of ease that invited company without needing to ask for it.

Y/n followed a moment later, sinking into the cushions with a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The fabric was soft against his skin. Everything was. The room, the air, the moment.

“Do you want music?” Jungwon asked, already reaching for the small remote on the coffee table.

Y/n shook his head. “It’s okay like this.”

And it was.

They sat in the hush together, the kind that didn’t press against your ribs. That didn’t require performance. For once, Y/n didn’t feel like a puzzle people were trying to solve. He wasn’t being picked apart, or pulled in two different directions.

He was just… here.

Jungwon leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, fingers loosely laced. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said. “Just stay. However long you need.”

Y/n nodded slowly, the movement more instinct than agreement.

Because he didn’t know how long he needed. He didn’t even know what he needed. But for the first time in days, something about this—about Jungwon’s quiet, about the way the penthouse held warmth without trying too hard—felt like enough.

He looked at Jungwon then, really looked. His profile in the light. The way his lashes shadowed his cheeks. The slight crease between his brows, like he was thinking too much but refusing to let it show.

There was something in Y/n’s chest that tugged a little.

Not want.

But comfort.

And maybe, for tonight, that was more important.

Y/n hadn’t meant to compare. But it happened anyway.

The moment his shoulders sank into Jungwon’s couch, his mind reached for the contrast—how his own penthouse, though taller, grander, and dressed in marble, felt like it belonged to someone else. His home was quiet in a different way: cold, vast, empty. Everything was curated, stylized, too pristine to be lived in. No warmth. No sound. Just a cavernous hush that echoed beneath his footsteps and swallowed them whole. A place meant to impress, not comfort.

Here, in Jungwon’s world, everything felt different.

The penthouse wasn’t any less luxurious—of course not. Y/n recognized the money in the bones of the place: in the dark oak floors, in the subtle weight of the linen curtains, in the hand-carved molding that held no need to be admired. This was old money, confident money—the kind passed down through bloodlines and black-tie legacies. But there was softness here, too. A lived-in warmth that money couldn’t buy. A kind of gentleness in the furniture, in the way the lamps cast golden halos on the walls, in the candle burning low on the coffee table, citrus and clove curling through the air like memory.

It wasn’t just a home. It was a haven. A place that had seen people cry and laugh and sit in silence without having to fill it.

And Jungwon matched it.

He was curled at the other end of the couch, sweater sleeves covering half his hands, his frame relaxed, gaze soft but unreadable. He didn’t push. Didn’t pry. He didn’t offer empty comforts or reach for Y/n’s wrist like he could fix the tension pulsing beneath his skin. He simply stayed. Steady. Present.

“Want a drink?” he asked eventually, voice barely above the sound of the record playing in the background.

Y/n nodded. “Yeah. I think I do.”

Jungwon returned from the kitchen with two glasses of red wine—deep and velvety, probably something that cost more than most weekend vacations. Y/n took his glass and drank. Slowly, at first. Then more. He wasn’t trying to get drunk. Just… quieter. Softer. He wanted the sting to fade. The thoughts to dull around the edges.

Halfway through the second glass, his cheeks felt warm. His limbs a little loose. The kind of floaty where you can feel your thoughts stretching out, soft and slow, like they’re underwater.

But Jungwon didn’t say anything about it. Just sipped his own wine, fingers curled gently around the stem, eyes occasionally drifting toward Y/n like he was checking on him—not watching. Not calculating. Just… there.

“You can stay the night,” Jungwon said eventually, like it had just occurred to him again. “The guest room’s ready.”

Y/n didn’t answer right away. He stared into the red sheen of his wineglass, then nodded. “Okay.”

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

The walk down the hall felt slower than it should have. Maybe it was the wine. Or maybe it was the way everything here felt too quiet. Too soft. Like walking through a museum after hours—velvet roped and glass cased, but humming underneath with something you couldn’t quite name.

The carpet muffled their steps. The lights burned a muted gold, like the whole penthouse had been dimmed to match a mood Y/n hadn’t known he needed.

Jungwon stopped in front of a door.

“This one,” he said, voice light, hand already on the knob.

And then he opened it.

Y/n took a step in.

And froze.

It didn’t hit him all at once. At first, the guest room looked… normal. Elegant, even. Wide bed, thick blankets, floor-to-ceiling windows, the city glittering just outside. But something in the air shifted—an invisible pull dragging his eyes to the far wall.

His breath caught.

Photos.

Dozens. Maybe more.

Framed in black. Perfectly aligned. A full wall of surveillance.

All of them were of him.

At first, he thought he was mistaken. But then—

There he was. Head tilted, lip bitten, standing just outside Jake’s guest room door.

There again. Blurry. Reflected in a bathroom mirror. Sunghoon just out of frame.

Another—seated on the edge of a leather couch in Park & Co., one foot tucked behind the other, waiting.

Another—pressed against a glass wall. Jay’s shadow behind him.

The longer he looked, the clearer they became. All grainy. All distant. Some zoomed in just enough to catch the expression on his face. Some taken from angles no one should’ve been able to get.

And more—dozens more. Him walking alone. Looking over his shoulder. Standing too close to someone. Laughing when he thought no one saw.

He didn’t know how long he stood there.

Behind him, Jungwon didn’t move. He hadn’t even stepped fully into the room. Just leaned lightly against the doorframe, wine glass still in hand, as if none of it was strange. As if it was all just… decoration.

“As promised,” Jungwon said softly. “No one else uses it.”

Y/n didn’t turn around. Couldn’t. His throat felt dry. His skin buzzed like it wanted to peel off. But his feet—his feet stayed planted.

And behind him, Jungwon smiled. Still gentle. Still kind.

Like nothing was wrong at all.

Y/n’s breath caught, sharp and cold.

The kind of cold that didn’t come from the room, but from inside. From that place in your gut where your instincts live—where something ancient and primal whispers: run.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Because Jungwon was still there. Barefoot, calm, glass of wine dangling from his fingers like this was just a normal night. Like the wall behind Y/n wasn’t a collection of stolen moments and personal invasions. Like it wasn’t evidence.

And he still smiled.

That same soft, warm smile that made people trust him. That made Y/n trust him.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Jungwon said, taking another slow step forward. “It’s not what you think.”

Y/n’s throat was dry. He turned slightly, just enough to keep the wall in his periphery. “Then what is it?”

Jungwon didn’t answer at first.

He looked at the photos again, tilting his head as if he were admiring them. Like they were art. His voice was low when it came—measured, careful.

“I just wanted you to know how much I see you.”

He said it like it was a gift.

Y/n blinked, trying to process, but his thoughts were already moving faster than his body. He looked at the photos again—Sunghoon in the stall. Jake’s guest room. The glass wall at Park & Co. All places he thought had been private. All moments he thought were secrets.

The blog always knew.

And suddenly it clicked.

Not like a lightning strike. Not a dramatic gasp or world-shattering realization. Just… a slow, sick unfurling in the pit of his stomach.

Jungwon didn’t ask about the post because Jungwon knew about the post.

He knew before it went up.

He always knew.

The timestamps. The tone. The way the captions cut just deep enough to bleed but never named names. The way the blog always struck when Y/n felt safest—when he let his guard down for even a second.

Because Jungwon had been there the whole time.

Not watching.

Documenting.

He turned fully toward him now, slow and stiff, chest rising unevenly. His mouth moved before his brain could catch up.

“It’s you.”

Jungwon blinked, gaze flickering—but not in surprise. In acknowledgment.

“You’re the one running the blog.”

It wasn’t a question.

The air between them stretched thin. Too quiet. Too still.

And Jungwon… smiled.

Not wide. Not wicked. Just soft. Familiar. That same gentle curve of lips that had made Y/n feel safe for weeks.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he said, voice low and calm. “Everything I wrote—it was for you. About you. I just wanted you to understand how important you are.”

Y/n felt like he was floating. Or drowning. He couldn’t tell the difference.

“This isn’t how people show that.”

Jungwon’s eyes flicked across his face, like he was memorizing it in real time. “People don’t see you the way I do,” he murmured. “Not Jake. Not Jay. Not Sunghoon. They touch you like you’re something temporary.”

He took another step forward. Y/n didn’t move.

“I don’t want to touch you,” Jungwon whispered. “I want to keep you.”

The words landed like ice.

And behind him, the photos watched.

Y/n’s heartbeat pounded in his ears. His limbs buzzed, not from the wine anymore—but from adrenaline. From the wrongness of it all.

And Jungwon just stood there. Close. Calm. Like this was love.

“Love doesn’t look like this,” Y/n whispered, eyes flicking to the wall again. His voice shook—not loud, but it was the first time he’d said the word. Love. He didn’t know why he said it. Maybe because part of him needed to believe that’s what this wasn’t.

Jungwon’s expression didn’t flicker.

He stepped closer. “No,” he agreed. “Not the kind you’re used to.”

Y/n swallowed hard, throat tight. “You shouldn’t have taken those.”

“I didn’t take them to expose you.” Jungwon’s voice was softer now, almost fragile. “I took them because no one ever sees you when it matters. I did. I do. I always will.”

His words weren’t sharp. They weren’t even defensive. They were tender, careful—delivered like an apology wrapped in silk.

And that, somehow, made it worse.

Y/n blinked at him, stunned into stillness. “Why me?”

Jungwon tilted his head, like he genuinely didn’t understand the question. “Because you’re not like them,” he said. “You walk around like you’re disposable. Like if people want you, it’s always for the wrong reasons. But I don’t want you like they do.”

His fingers barely lifted, brushing against the doorframe beside Y/n’s shoulder. Not touching—just near. Just close enough for Y/n to feel the presence of him.

“I don’t want to use you,” Jungwon said. “I want to keep you safe.”

Y/n’s breath hitched.

His mind told him this was too much. That he needed to walk. Call someone. Say something. But the room was warm. The wine still hummed in his blood. And Jungwon’s voice was so low, so gentle, that it almost sounded like love.

“I know it’s wrong,” Jungwon murmured. “I know how it looks. But I didn’t do any of it to scare you. I did it to hold onto you, even when I couldn’t have you.”

Y/n’s heart twisted.

He should’ve walked. He knew he should’ve. But his legs didn’t move.

And when Jungwon took one more step forward—carefully, slowly—Y/n didn’t stop him.

“I’ve seen you fall apart,” Jungwon whispered. “And I still want you.”

His hand lifted, hovering just near Y/n’s cheek. Not touching. Not yet.

“Not because you’re broken,” he added. “But because I know what it’s like to be alone in a room full of people who only want parts of you.”

Y/n’s eyes burned. Not with fear this time, but something closer to recognition. Or maybe exhaustion. He didn’t know what was worse.

“You shouldn’t be alone tonight,” Jungwon said. “Not with them in your head.”

And then, finally, his fingers brushed Y/n’s jaw—light, hesitant, like a question. Like he’d stop if Y/n flinched.

Y/n didn’t.

“I don’t want anything from you,” Jungwon said. “Just this.”

His other hand rose, cradling the side of Y/n’s neck.

And then, without force—without pressure—he leaned in.

And kissed him.

Soft. Unhurried. Like he had all the time in the world. Like he’d been dreaming of this and didn’t want to ruin it by rushing. His lips were warm. Familiar. Too careful.

Y/n stood frozen. Not kissing back. Not pulling away.

Just caught.

Because he wasn’t sure what scared him more—that Jungwon had kissed him.

Or that, somewhere deep in the part of him that always craved to be seen, he didn’t hate it.

The kiss ended with the gentlest pause—Jungwon’s lips lingering just long enough to leave a warmth behind, a tremble in its absence.

He didn’t pull away far.

Just enough to look at him.

Their foreheads hovered a breath apart. The air between them thinned, thick with unsaid things, and Jungwon didn’t fill the silence with reassurances. He didn’t need to.

His touch said enough.

Y/n stood still, eyes locked on the hollow of Jungwon’s throat, heart slamming too loudly in his chest. It wasn’t just the kiss. It wasn’t the photos, or the wine, or even the truth still echoing in his ears.

It was the terrifying calm in Jungwon’s voice.

The sincerity.

Like he believed it all—believed that love could look like surveillance. That devotion could look like control.

Y/n had always thought the worst thing someone could do was leave. But maybe this was worse. Maybe it was being held so tightly someone thought they were protecting you, even while they were bleeding you dry.

But still—

Still—

He hadn’t moved.

His body stayed rooted, his skin aching beneath Jungwon’s fingertips, not from fear but from the overwhelming tenderness of it. The kind that made you forget what danger felt like.

Jungwon’s thumb brushed gently against his cheekbone.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered. “I know you’re tired.”

Y/n’s lashes fluttered. The wine buzzed faintly in his blood, warm and slow and traitorous. The ache in his chest was no longer sharp. It had dulled, melted into something heavier. Sadder.

And maybe that’s why he didn’t push Jungwon away.

Not yet.

Because it was easier to be held than questioned. Easier to feel someone’s breath on your skin than sit in a room alone with what they’d done.

“I know you,” Jungwon murmured, his voice almost reverent. “Even the parts you try to hide.”

Y/n blinked hard, eyes burning.

“I watched you disappear in places where you should’ve been seen,” Jungwon said, fingers slipping gently behind his neck. “I just wanted to prove I was watching. That I wouldn’t look away.”

It sounded so soft. Like a promise.

But promises from people like this were never clean.

Y/n let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. His limbs were too heavy to lift. His mouth too full of dust to speak.

He should leave.

He should tell Jungwon this wasn’t love. That obsession dressed in silk was still a cage. That seeing someone wasn’t the same as knowing them.

But when Jungwon kissed him again—slower this time, deeper—Y/n still didn’t pull away.

Because maybe being wanted like this, twisted and quiet and dangerous, still felt better than not being wanted at all.

And somewhere behind them, the wall of photos watched in silence.

The second kiss didn’t catch Y/n off guard.

This time, he didn’t stand frozen. He didn’t rationalize or fight or flinch. He just let it happen—let the heat press into him, let Jungwon’s mouth move against his like it belonged there. And when Y/n breathed in, he felt the weight of it: warm wine, low light, a hand still cradling the back of his neck like it was the most fragile part of him.

It should’ve scared him. The softness. The patience.

But it didn’t.

Not in that moment.

He kissed back—slowly, uncertainly, like testing the edge of something sharp. His lips parted beneath Jungwon’s, a small noise catching in the back of his throat, one he hadn’t meant to make. And it wasn’t just the kiss. It was everything beneath it. The wall of photos. The wine. The exhaustion in his bones. The fact that someone had been watching him, really watching him, and hadn’t looked away.

Maybe it should’ve been horrifying.

But it wasn’t.

Not yet.

Jungwon inhaled against his mouth—like the contact was something sacred—and his fingers tightened slightly, just enough for Y/n to feel the intention beneath the gentleness. Not possessive. Not demanding. Just there. Anchoring.

And Y/n let himself lean into it.

For a second, maybe two, he forgot how he got here. Forgot that he had come to this penthouse for air, for quiet, not for this. He forgot the wall behind him entirely, and focused instead on the way Jungwon’s thumb brushed just beneath his ear, trailing heat down the curve of his jaw.

“You feel that?” Jungwon whispered against his mouth, voice velvet-soft, eyes half-lidded and unreadable.

Y/n swallowed. His pulse was everywhere—neck, wrists, deep behind his ribs.

“I see you,” Jungwon continued, his other hand settling feather-light on Y/n’s waist, just above his hip. “Not like they do. Not like a game. I see the whole of you, even the parts you think no one should want.”

His hand didn’t move lower. Not yet. But the promise of it lived in the space between them.

Y/n didn’t pull away.

He hated himself a little for that.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he tilted his chin up slightly—just enough to close the distance again. Just enough to press his lips back to Jungwon’s, slower this time, deeper, until the kiss turned molten and something low sparked beneath his skin.

A hum slipped out of Jungwon’s throat—barely there. His thumb brushed across Y/n’s lower lip when they pulled apart, and he looked at him like he was already memorized.

“You don’t have to run anymore,” Jungwon murmured.

Y/n’s breath hitched. He wasn’t sure if it was from the words, or the way Jungwon’s fingers had ghosted beneath the hem of his shirt for half a second before returning to stillness.

Maybe it was both.

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Because his body had already leaned closer. Because his pulse hadn’t slowed. Because the heat building between them was no longer coming from the wine or the room.

And Jungwon just smiled, soft and patient, like he knew. Like he always had.

Jungwon didn’t kiss him again right away.

He just stayed there, close enough for Y/n to feel the warmth of his breath, his fingers still resting lightly at his waist—as if holding too tightly might shatter something between them. His touch wasn’t hungry. It was patient. Measured. The kind of patience that only someone with control could afford.

Y/n didn’t move. His breath was shallow. His limbs didn’t shake, but they felt heavy. Like all the exhaustion and confusion and guilt had settled into his bones.

And still, he didn’t pull away.

Jungwon’s hand drifted up slowly, brushing a strand of hair from Y/n’s face. The backs of his fingers skimmed down his jaw, over the column of his throat, light as static. Like he was learning him by touch. Memorizing.

“You’re always holding yourself so tight,” he murmured. “Like you’re afraid of taking up space.”

Y/n didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure how to. His head was spinning—not from the wine anymore, but from the closeness. From the soft, deliberate care of it all. From the way this moment felt suspended—like time had paused just for them.

Jungwon leaned in again. His lips grazed the corner of Y/n’s mouth first, soft, slow. A question, not a demand.

Y/n answered with a kiss of his own.

It wasn’t eager. It wasn’t even clear if it was a yes. But it was something—an anchor in the quiet. His hands slid forward, finding the fabric of Jungwon’s shirt and curling there, not pushing, just holding.

Jungwon deepened the kiss, just slightly. His hands settled on Y/n’s hips, not gripping, just resting. His mouth was warm, unhurried. It wasn’t about lust. Not yet. It was about presence. About claiming.

Y/n pulled back first. Just enough to breathe.

His chest rose and fell with a quiet rhythm, the room too still around them.

Jungwon’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, ghosting along his skin like a secret. He didn’t rush. When he moved to undress Y/n, it was careful, almost reverent. Like it mattered.

And Y/n let him.

He lifted his arms. Let the shirt fall.

The air kissed his skin, cool against the heat blooming beneath his ribs.

Jungwon’s gaze trailed down, slow and unreadable. He didn’t leer. He didn’t praise. He just looked—really looked—like he’d spent so long seeing him from a distance that now he couldn’t help but commit every line to memory.

Then Jungwon peeled his own sweater off, quiet as a breath.

Y/n didn’t stare. But he saw.

The pale curve of Jungwon’s waist. The way the shadows touched the hollows of his arms. How the lamplight settled over his chest in warm tones, softening every line.

Their chests brushed when they moved closer again. Bare skin to bare skin—warm and real.

Y/n’s fingers pressed into Jungwon’s side. And when their mouths met this time, it wasn’t careful.

It was need.

Still slow, but heavier. Messier. Their hands started to move with more weight—finding waists, backs, the edges of zippers. Neither of them spoke.

Because this wasn’t about words.

It was about being wanted in a way that didn’t ask.

It was about being touched in a way that said: stay.

Jungwon’s mouth never left his for long.

Every time Y/n tried to catch his breath, Jungwon pulled him back in—kissing like it was something he’d earned, something he owned. Not rough. Not fast. Just… deep. Possessive. Each press of lips was slow and weighted, like he needed Y/n to feel it hours from now. Like he wanted the ghost of it to stain.

Their clothes came off in pieces.

Jungwon didn’t tear. He peeled. Tugged fabric down like unveiling something precious. His palms were warm as they dragged over skin—slow at first, then with more hunger. Like touch alone wasn’t enough. Like he needed Y/n beneath him. Needed him still and open and his.

When their hips met, it wasn’t clean. It wasn’t choreographed.

It was messy. Bare thighs brushing. Hands everywhere. Y/n gasped when Jungwon’s grip slid down, strong and certain, grounding him with one hand at the curve of his lower back, the other holding his jaw like it was glass.

“You don’t get it,” Jungwon whispered against his mouth. “They touched you like a secret. Like a sin.”

His lips trailed lower, down Y/n’s neck, biting just hard enough to leave a mark.

“I’ll touch you like you’re mine.”

Y/n’s head fell back with a low sound he didn’t recognize as his own. The air burned hot around them. Every nerve was awake, begging. He didn’t know what he wanted more—the release or the closeness or the comfort—but Jungwon gave him all three in fragments, pulling them from him like confessions.

“Pretty,” Jungwon murmured, dragging his teeth along Y/n’s collarbone. “You were always so fucking pretty like this. All those times they used you like a game—I watched. I waited. And now…”

His fingers tightened at Y/n’s waist.

“…now you’re here. Where you were always supposed to be.”

Y/n shivered, every inch of his skin hypersensitive, raw in ways that had nothing to do with touch. Jungwon’s voice was too calm, too smooth, threading through him like silk cut with wire. And still—still—he didn’t pull away.

He couldn’t.

Because a part of him liked it. Liked being seen. Liked being handled.

Liked being wanted so much it bordered on worship.

Jungwon pressed their foreheads together, breath ragged. “Say you want it.”

Y/n’s lips were swollen, trembling.

“…I want it.”

Jungwon smiled.

Dark. Soft. Like a promise sealed.

“Good.”

Jungwon’s breath hitched when Y/n said it.

Not because he was surprised—but because it confirmed something he’d already decided for himself. Something he had carried for months in silence. A truth so deep in his ribs it had become instinct.

Y/n wanted it.

Maybe not the way he was supposed to. Maybe not with clean lines and gentle promises. But want wasn’t always pure. And Jungwon had never asked him to be.

He leaned in, slow and sure, and kissed him again. This time with more weight. Less air.

Jungwon pulled back only far enough to look him in the eye.

“Come here,” he said—quiet, but firm.

He took Y/n’s hand and turned, guiding him toward the bed. The room shifted around them like it was holding its breath. The shadows stretched long across the floor, brushing their feet as they moved.

Y/n followed.

Not because he had to.

But because he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

The bed was already turned down—sheets smooth, corners folded. Jungwon let go only to pull them back with slow, practiced ease, then looked up again. His gaze held a question, but not uncertainty.

He waited.

And when Y/n stepped forward, Jungwon met him there.

The mattress dipped beneath their weight. They moved without choreography, knees brushing, hands fumbling for skin. Y/n wasn’t sure when his breathing had gotten so shallow, or when his pulse had started drumming behind his ears. All he knew was that Jungwon’s hands were back on his skin—skimming his ribs, sliding up his back, grounding him in heat and pressure.

No more speaking.

Only the sound of movement—of sheets shifting, of breath hitching, of mouths finding skin.

Jungwon touched him like he was something rare. Like the want was real. Like nothing about this moment was about control, even if it was.

And Y/n, for once, let himself be wanted.

Not as a symbol. Not as a mistake.

But as a person.

And it wasn’t gentle. Not entirely. But it was full. Full of attention. Full of hunger. Full of something that felt too much like devotion to be anything else.

The world outside that room didn’t matter.

Not when Jungwon pulled him closer again, and Y/n went willingly into the dark.

Jungwon’s teeth sank into the meat of Y/n’s shoulder as he shoved him face-down into the mattress, the rip of fabric echoing as he tore his boxers free. He laughed, spit-slick fingers circling Y/n’s hole without warning, pressing in to the knuckle.

Y/n’s knees dug into the mattress, his chest pressed flat against the sheets as Jungwon loomed over him, one hand fisted in his hair to yank his head back. “Fuck—clenching around me already. You need it this bad?”

Y/n choked on a moan, hips jerking back instinctively, but Jungwon’s palm cracked against his ass—sharp, stinging—before gripping the swell hard enough to bruise. “Stay still.”

He didn’t. Couldn’t. Not when Jungwon’s cock slid heavy and insistent between his thighs, the thick head catching against his balls with every ragged thrust. Y/n’s own dick dripped onto the sheets, untouched, leaking as Jungwon rutted against him like an animal—all teeth and sweat and mine, mine, mine growled into his spine.

“J-Jungwon—”

“Shut up.” A hand fisted in his hair, yanking his head back as Jungwon’s other palm smeared precome down his shaft, stroking once, twice, painfully slow.

The mattress dipped dangerously as Jungwon pinned him down, his weight a delicious anchor. “You don’t get to beg. Not after letting them touch you.” He spat the words, hips snapping forward to grind his cock against Y/n’s ass, the tip catching at his rim. “This is what you wanted, right? To be used?”

Y/n’s sob caught in his throat as Jungwon shoved in—no prep, no mercy—stretching him raw on his cock. “Fuck—!”

“Tight,” Jungwon hissed, bottoming out with a groan, hips flush against Y/n’s ass. “Fucking—made for this. Made for me.” He didn’t wait, didn’t let Y/n adjust—just pulled out and slammed back in, setting a brutal pace that punched cries from Y/n’s chest with every thrust.

Y/n clawed at the sheets, tears blurring his vision as pleasure coiled viciously low, Jungwon’s cock dragging over his prostate with every snap of his hips. “S’too much—”

“No.” Jungwon leaned over him, biting the nape of his neck, fingers digging into his hips hard enough to leave marks. “You take it. Take all of me.”

Jungwon’s hand fisted in Y/n’s hair, yanking his head back as he thrust up into him with a snarl, the slap of skin echoing off the walls lined with proof of his obsession. “Open your eyes,” he demanded, voice raw and ragged, hips pistoning mercilessly. “Look at what you let them do to you.”

Y/n’s tear-blurred gaze dragged across the gallery of his own shame—grainy stills of Jake’s hands under his shirt, Sunghoon’s teeth on his neck, Jay’s smirk as he’d bent him over that glass wall. Jungwon’s cock speared deeper, harder, as if punishing him for every captured moment. “Pathetic,” he hissed, fingers tightening in Y/n’s hair until his scalp burned. “Letting them use you like a common whore.”

“N-no—”

The denial died in a scream as Jungwon slammed him face-first against the wall without pulling off, the photos rattling under Y/n’s splayed palms. Cold glass bit into his skin, his reflection fractured across a dozen images of his own debasement. Jungwon’s breath scorched his ear, hips rolling in a cruel, grinding rhythm that dragged his cock over Y/n’s prostate. “Liar. You craved it.” He spat the words, one hand snaking around Y/n’s throat, squeezing just enough to make him dizzy. “Admit it. Admit you’re nothing but a cum dump for anyone with the guts to take you.”

Y/n’s moan cracked open, high and broken, as Jungwon’s thumb pressed down on his trachea. “Say it.”

“Y-yes—!”

“Louder.” Jungwon’s teeth closed on his shoulder, biting down as he fucked into him with short, brutal strokes. “Tell me what you are.”

“A whore—fuck—!” Y/n sobbed, hips jerking back onto Jungwon’s cock, shame and need twisting together until he couldn’t breathe. “Y-your whore—!”

Jungwon’s laugh was dark, triumphant. He released Y/n’s throat only to grab his jaw, forcing his head toward a particularly damning photo—Sunghoon’s ice-cold fingers between Y/n’s thighs in the locker room. “He ever make you come like this?” he purred, snapping his hips forward so hard Y/n’s knees buckled. “Ever fuck you so deep you forgot your own name?”

Y/n shook his head wildly, drool slicking his chin. “N-no—!”

“Liar.” Jungwon’s palm cracked against his ass, the sting blooming hot as he pinned Y/n tighter against the wall. “But I’ll fix that.” His free hand wrapped around Y/n’s neglected cock, stroking in time with his thrusts—too rough, too perfect. “Gonna ruin you for anyone else. Gonna make sure you dream about this cock.”

The dual assault shattered Y/n. His back arched, a broken scream tearing loose as he came untouched—again—spilling over Jungwon’s fist in ragged pulses. Jungwon growled, fucking him through it, relentless. “That’s it—drench me, you slut. Show me how bad you needed this.”

Y/n’s legs gave out, but Jungwon held him up, slamming into his oversensitive hole until his own release hit—a guttural snarl against Y/n’s spine as he filled him to the brim, hot and claiming.

They slumped against the wall, Jungwon’s teeth still buried in Y/n’s shoulder, the photos staring down in silent judgment. “Mine,” he panted, licking the salt from Y/n’s throat. “Every fucking inch.”

Y/n’s weak nod was all he could manage.

Jungwon smiled, tender and terrifying, as he turned Y/n’s face toward the largest photo—Jay’s handprint bruised into his hip. “Good boy. Now let’s burn them.”

The last thing Y/n remembered was Jungwon’s breath against his neck—warm, steady, anchoring him as his body finally, finally settled.

He didn’t know when sleep pulled him under. It must’ve been sometime after—the haze of touch still lingering in his chest, his limbs too heavy to move, Jungwon’s body curled close behind him like a second skin. The sheets were tangled around their legs, the heat between them softening into something quieter. Less charged. Almost peaceful.

Almost.

Because when he woke, the room was too quiet.

His eyes blinked open slowly, eyelashes heavy, breath still shallow with the weight of a night he hadn’t fully processed. Jungwon was asleep beside him, still. One arm resting over Y/n’s waist. His face was turned toward the pillow, peaceful in the dim gold light seeping in from behind the curtains.

It should’ve felt safe.

But when Y/n turned his head—just slightly—the photos were still there.

That wall.

Unmoving. Unchanged. Still watching.

The frames caught the morning light in jagged ways now, casting thin, angular shadows across the floorboards. And somehow, they looked different in daylight. Less romantic. Less intimate.

More invasive.

The one near the top corner was the first to hit him: the sliver of him in Jake’s bed, jaw slack, eyes half-lidded in something he hadn’t thought anyone else had seen.

And below it, the bathroom stall with Sunghoon. And then the one outside Jay’s father’s office. His back was to the camera in that one, but it still made his stomach twist.

He sat up slowly. Careful not to wake Jungwon.

He didn’t know what made his chest feel so tight. It wasn’t fear. Not exactly. It was something quieter. Like a bruise being pressed. Like knowing you’d given something away and only realizing too late how much of yourself it had cost.

He got out of bed with careful steps, each one muffled by the thick rug underfoot.

In the bathroom, he didn’t look at himself in the mirror. He let the water run hot until steam clouded the edges of the glass, until his skin flushed with the heat of it. He scrubbed gently, slowly, as if washing off something he couldn’t name.

Something invisible. But lingering.

When he stepped out, the towel stayed wrapped loosely at his hips as he moved through the room again. Jungwon hadn’t stirred. His face was still soft in sleep, one hand now curled into the space Y/n had left behind.

He dressed quietly.

The same clothes from yesterday, a little wrinkled now, but they’d do.

Y/n didn’t leave a note.

Didn’t make a sound.

He just slipped on his coat and walked out the door.

The elevator was quiet. Too quiet. The ride down felt longer than he remembered. And when he stepped out into the cold morning air, the Upper East Side had already begun to move—slow and polished, people in coats with coffee cups and clean shoes.

He walked.

Nowhere in particular.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking. Past the corner where a florist was opening. Past the café Jake liked. Past a bookstore that once reminded him of his mother.

He didn’t know why it hit him then.

Maybe it was the cold. Maybe it was the night catching up with him. Or the photographs burning in the back of his eyes.

But somewhere along 75th, with the wind cutting across his cheeks and the buildings towering overhead like they didn’t even notice he was there, something in him cracked.

And he started crying.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Just—quiet tears. Slow. Hot. Falling without permission.

He wiped them away once. Then again. But they kept coming.

And he just kept walking.

The cold helped keep him upright. It stung just enough to make him feel present, like something real was touching him. But inside, everything was fraying. His chest was tight in that ugly, quiet way—like grief, but messier. He kept walking, hands jammed into his coat pockets, the air harsh against his face.

And then it started.

The thoughts.

Slow at first. Then faster. Like pieces being forced into place long after the puzzle should’ve been done.

It wasn’t just the photos. It was how perfectly timed they were. How Jungwon had always known when to be quiet. Where to stand. The angle of every frame suggested he’d been there. Close. Too close.

Y/n’s steps faltered.

The bathroom. Sunghoon.

That knock—the loud, too-rhythmic knock on the stall door. The water running. The way the silence cracked open in the middle of something that was never meant to be witnessed.

He’d thought it was a student. Just someone being annoying. Someone passing through.

But it wasn’t.

It was him.

Jungwon. Quiet and sweet and always too close without being seen.

And the party—Jake’s party. The first night it had all blurred. The first time he felt like his body wasn’t his own. He remembered the laughter, the glasses of wine that kept being replaced without question, the way the room had felt tilted even though he hadn’t drunk that much.

He’d blamed himself for that night. For the way his head spun. For the things he let Jake do. For the way his body responded before his mind caught up.

But it wasn’t him.

Jungwon had been there too. Somewhere in the background, tucked in a corner like furniture. Pouring drinks. Watching. Waiting. And now, it all made sense.

The warmth in his blood that hadn’t been wine.

The dizziness that hadn’t been guilt.

He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, breath fogging the air, heart hammering.

He had never seen him—not really. Not back then.

But Jungwon had always seen him.

Y/n didn’t notice the car at first.

The morning air was raw against his skin, and each step felt heavier than the last. Y/n didn’t know where he was walking—just that he couldn’t stop. Not yet. His hands were deep in his pockets, breath shallow, face still warm from the quiet, embarrassing weight of crying in public. It was that kind of ache. The kind that lingered in the bones.

The car rolled up quietly beside him.

Black. Polished. Familiar in a way that made something in his chest twist. He didn’t need to look to know whose it was.

The back door eased open, and there was Jake—already outside, leaning against the car like it belonged to him. Like he belonged to it. His blazer hung off two fingers, and his shirt was wrinkled in that deliberate way, collar open, sleeves rolled. Hair neat. Posture loose but alert. He looked like the kind of tired you can’t name.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t ask if Y/n was okay. Didn’t tell him he looked like shit. Didn’t offer a joke to fill the silence.

He just looked.

And then—quietly, like it meant nothing—he stepped forward and draped the blazer over Y/n’s shoulders.

The fabric fell heavy and warm. It smelled like Jake: clean soap, woody, something expensive and muted, like a memory. Y/n didn’t flinch, but his breath caught in his throat.

Jake adjusted the lapels once, lightly. His fingers brushed against Y/n’s chest but didn’t linger. Then he pulled back and nodded toward the open car door.

Y/n didn’t argue.

He stepped inside.

The door shut behind them with a soft, final click. The city vanished—muted through tinted windows and thick leather. Inside, the warmth wrapped around him like the coat had.

Jake didn’t press. He sat beside him, silent, one arm resting loosely across the back of the seat. His eyes flicked toward Y/n once, then away. He didn’t try to talk.

And Y/n was grateful for that.

He turned toward the window, watching Manhattan blur past in streaks of glass and movement. His chest tightened again, throat thick. The streetlights bled gold onto the fogged glass. Somewhere between avenues, it happened.

The tears came back.

Quietly.

No sound. No shaking. Just hot, slow tears sliding down his cheek as he stared out, blinking hard but not fast enough to stop them.

He thought maybe Jake would ignore it. That he’d pretend not to notice. That would’ve been easier.

But Jake didn’t.

He reached over—not suddenly, not clumsily. Just reached. His fingers brushed over Y/n’s hand once before settling around it. His palm was warm. Steady.

He didn’t squeeze.

Not yet.

Just held.

Y/n’s shoulders tensed—briefly—before softening again. The weight of the moment pressed into his ribs, but Jake’s hand stayed. Anchoring. Real.

And then, with his thumb, Jake pressed gently into the back of Y/n’s hand. Just once. A small movement. A wordless gesture that said I see you.

It wasn’t like the touches from before.

Not sharp. Not flirtatious. Not claiming.

It was soft. Grounded.

A contrast so clear that it made Y/n’s chest twist again—but for another reason entirely.

Jake still didn’t say anything.

But maybe he didn’t have to.

Maybe, for once, his silence wasn’t about withholding.

Maybe it was his way of staying.

note: and just like that… the rich boys universe has reached its ending. at least for now. i honestly don’t even know how to begin this — this chapter was the biggest one i’ve ever written, and wrapping it all up felt surreal. i started this series on a whim, just playing around with dynamics and tension, never expecting it to grow the way it did. and now here we are, with jay, sunghoon, jake, jungwon, and y/n each having carved out their own space in this messy, chaotic, emotionally layered little world. i really wanted this final part to feel full — not just plot-wise, but emotionally too. every interaction, every choice, every glance was written with the intention of giving each the development they deserved. especially y/n, who’s carried so much without always realizing it. and jay, who’s rough around the edges but more fragile than he lets on. and jake and sunghoon with all their complicated silence. and jungwon... quietly dangerous in all the best ways. i wanted to give them all a moment to feel real. and i hope that came through. i’m endlessly grateful for the support you’ve all given this series. the comments, the asks, the wild reactions, the overanalyzing (which i loved) — it all made this process so much more fun and meaningful. writing this wasn’t always easy, especially with life and deadlines and blocks getting in the way, but knowing people were reading and caring? that pushed me to keep going every time. thank you for being here, for staying through the drama, the silence, the slow burn tension, and all the heartbreak in between. i hope this ending gave you something — closure, a little ache, a breath of relief. maybe all three. truly… thank you so much. i’m really proud of this one. and i hope you are too. with love, luke :)

#yang jungwon x male reader #jungwon x male reader #jungwon x reader #jungwon smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen x male reader #enhypen smut #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut kpop x reader #kpop smut #x male reader #x male reader smut #jungwon x yn #smut #jungwon enhypen #luke fics :)

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