#anyways is anyone else thinking about anything

[the-goo-goo-muck]

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DIRTY LAUNDRY PT. 1

grown ass men & what turns them on

Starring: Choso Kamo, Kento Nanami, Kiyotaka Ijichi, Satoru Gojo, Sukuna Ryomen, Toji Fushiguro

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Choso Kamo: Praise <3

It’s no secret, not to you & not to anyone else, that Choso liked to be praised. Not even just sexually; compliments, even if they weren’t always too sincere, went straight to his heart. Your compliments specifically, went straight to his dick. If he had a tail, it’d wag constantly in your presence, especially hard when you called him a “good boy.” This was true of all situations, but there was something primal about him when he was kissing your cervix with the mushroom tip of his cock, holding on to your waist for dear life as he rutted up into you, & he hears you say “f-feels so good, Cho, right there, God, it’s so good, you’re such a good boy.” It’s stronger than any drug, & it gets him drunker than any alcohol. He’ll do damn near anything to hear you say it again. 

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Kento Nanami: Size Kink <3

It’s animalistic, this caveman quality in him & he’s so ashamed by it, the guilt drives him mad, but it’s when you’re like this, sitting on top of him, falling all over the hard plane of his chest, as he lifts your hips over & over that he just can’t seem to care. It comes from deep within him, the urge to throw you on the bed & have his way with you, which is so strange so atypical of Nanami who is always so reserved, so in control of himself. But he loses that sense of control when you’re begging him oh so sweetly: “Please, ‘Ken, you–ngh–you’re so deep, too deep.” Good, he thinks to himself, that’s how he wants it. 

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Kiyotaka Ijicihi: Overstim <3

It’s relatively easy to overstimulate Kiyotaka; everything about him is so sensitive, mentally & physically. So when he’s panting & whining, coming down from the high of fucking your fist, & he feels your hand resume its ministrations, squeezing the base of his cock, fingers sliding over his wet tip, hands cupping his balls, he’s all but cumming again. & cum again he does. Kiyotaka is such a sweet beggar, which is why you’re never surprised when he’s begging you to stop; but if he really wanted you to stop, well, he has a word for that, & yet he never uses it because, of course he doesn’t want you to stop, not when it feels “so good, s’too good, gonna cum, c-can’t can’t take it, can’t take it, please, please, plea–”

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Satoru Gojo:  Somno <3

It’s not something that happens often & maybe that’s why Gojo fucking loves it so much. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? It’s not until he’s pulled two or three all-nighters, gone on mission after mission, skipped meals, not showered, etc. that you’re finally too tired & too upset with him to wait up for him again tonight. When he comes home, he sees you in your bed & any thoughts of dinner or a shower fly right the fuck out the window because he just has to have you. His favorite is when you don’t wake up at all, when he’s giving it to you all soft & sweet & he’s just so sure that you’re having the best dream of your life. He's mouthing at your breasts, leaving a trail of drool across your entire torso, fingers massaging your hips, your waist, your nipples. But of course he enjoys it when you wake up too, when he’s three fingers deep & you whine particularly loudly, waking up all of a sudden, “‘Toru, Toru please, feels so good, it’s too much, gonna cum, can I cum?” Of course you can, silly, that’s all he really wanted anyway; he’s just missed his sweet girl & the taste of her cum on his fingers when he’s licking them all clean. 

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Sukuna Ryomen: Marking <3

Shockingly, Sukuna loves to mark his property like a dog pissing on a tree. . .psst, pretend to be shocked. At first, it was small little hickeys on your inner thighs, maybe a scratch mark here or there, rarely ever visible. But all it took was a simple thrown out phrase one night when he was fucking you real good. “‘M’yours, ‘Kuna, all yours.” He knew that, damn it, but what’s the harm in proving it to everyone else. After that, he was insatiable. If you were alone & you weren’t fucking—a rarity—he had you in his lap, sucking hard on the skin of your neck, your collarbones, your breasts, the nape of your neck, your stomach, your ass. . .the list goes on. Your hips are at a near constant state of bruised, your back holds little crescent-shaped indentations, your knees are always red, & your friends ooh & ahh over the state of your neck. It was more red than skin-colored. You were his, & not only did he want you to know that, he needed to remind everyone else of it as well. 

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Toji Fushiguro: Breeding <3

Birth control? Condoms? Pulling out? He’s not familiar with them. Nope, he’s gonna fuck load after load into you, ‘til he’s just sure that you’re pregnant, & when he’s so overstimulated, when his cock is an angry red, raw, he’ll kneel on the bed in front of you, & finger fuck his seed into you. Realistically, Toji knows you are on contraceptives & so no matter how raw he fucks you, you’re more than likely not getting pregnant. But try telling that to him when he’s got your legs firmly over his shoulders, sweat is dripping from his forehead, & he’s babbling his orgasmic nonsense of “gotta fill you up, pretty girl, gotta put in a baby in ya, gonna fuck you so full.” It’s in one ear & out the other for him. There’s something deeply instinctual about it; his brain is just wired this way: he needs to fuck his pretty girl full to the brim, & you’re gonna take it, whatever he gives you.

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PART 2: coming soon to a theatre near you <3

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 7 - Madrid or Manhattan | ‘Act II’

word count - 11.2k

The following day, you couldn’t take the distance or the unknown any longer. That night had been a blur of bad decisions and misplaced anger, and now, with a mildly more clear head, you knew what you had to do. You needed to see Jude, to confront him, to figure out where you two stood. The thought of him with someone else, or worse, of him moving on from you, was unbearable. You had to know if there was anything left to salvage. You had acted out and you’d need to fix this or put it to bed. Once again, in a last ditch effort, without hesitation, you booked a flight back to Madrid, your heart racing as you imagined what might happen when you saw Jude again. If he had done it again—if he had been with someone else since your last conversation—you knew you would have to walk away for good. But deep down, you hoped that wasn’t the case. You hoped that Jude had been as miserable as you had, that he had spent every moment thinking of you. You didn’t tell him you were coming, you wanted him to not know in case he was with someone else. That’d be it for you. You were racking up flight miles. The environment was screaming at you but you took another flight anyway. When you arrived at Jude’s house, your nerves were frayed, your emotions teetering on the edge. The lack of sleep catching up to you. You didn’t bother with the formalities this time, just knocked on the door and waited, your heart pounding in your chest. When Jude opened the door, his surprise was evident, but there was something else in his eyes too—relief.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice a mix of surprise and something that sounded like hope. “You’re here.” Jude felt his heart beat slow down to a point where he wasn’t sure if you were really there or if he was imagining things.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice wavering slightly. “I’m here.” You stood there for a moment, neither of you knowing what to say, until Jude stepped aside to let you in. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on you.

“Looked like you’d been having fun lately. Saw the posts,” Jude admitted as you sat down on the same sage green couch that used to be a place of comfort until your relationship or whatever with him was shattered in a moment by him, the tension palpable. He didn’t mean to sound so passive and short but he was hurt. “I know what you were doing. And I hated every second of it.” You winced hearing him call you out layered with a bit of anger of your own too.

“Having fun?” Your eyes narrowed on him, annoyed he said that. “Whatever. That was the point,” you replied, not unkindly, but with a bitterness that lingered in your voice. “I was angry, Jude. I didn’t know how else to make you understand how much you hurt me.” And when you told Jude that you had slept with someone to spite him for doing the same, it hit him harder than he expected.

“I know I messed up,” Jude said, his voice thick with regret, tears building on his waterline. “I haven’t done anything but think about you since you left. I was so stupid, so insecure, and I let it get the best of me. But I haven’t been with anyone else, Y/N. I swear.” Jude took a deep breath. You studied his face, searching for any sign that he was lying, but all you saw was the same regret and pain you had been carrying. The anger you had been holding onto started to crumble, replaced by a deep, aching sadness.

“I have though…” You cried. A sight Jude hadn’t expected. He knew you were upset but he put it down to anger but sadness, a broken heart, he could barely look at you. He felt more sick than before knowing that he made you feel this way. He knew. You tried to take a deep breath but you were shaking. He knew you well enough to know how you’d respond to him hooking up with someone else. The divide between you was so vast you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to build a bridge. The jealousy and hurt twisted in his gut as he realized that the thought of you with anyone else was unbearable. To know you were in someone else’s bed made him sick. It had been building since he slept with another girl but as he heard it roll off your tongue, that was the moment Jude understood that what he felt for you went far beyond just liking you—he was in love with you. The idea of losing you, the girl he had uncontrollably and unintentionally fell in love with made him feel physically ill, bringing all his buried emotions to the surface. You sat on the edge of the couch as emotions flooded you once over, your face buried in your hands as you cried softly. The weight of everything that had happened between you two felt unbearable, like it was crushing you from the inside out. Jude stood up in front of you, his face loosing color and filled with a mixture of hurt and helplessness. He hadn’t said much since you admitted it—admitted that you’d slept with someone after you found out about him and the other girl. You hated it. Hated that you had hurt him, hated that you had hurt yourself in the process. But more than anything, you hated how much you still cared about him, how much you wanted him even now. “I don’t understand,” you choked out through your tears, your voice breaking. “I don’t understand why I like you so much, even after everything. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t feel this way, but I do.”

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice soft but strained. “It’s okay. I know you’re hurting.” Jude knelt down in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face, his thumb brushing away your tears.

“I don’t want to be hurting!” you snapped, the frustration boiling over. “I hate this. I hate that I like you so much, Jude. I hate that even when I try to move on, you’re all I think about. You’re the only thing I’ve thought about since I left here. Just you all fucking day. I’ve done nothing else.” You whined. Jude winced, clearly pained by your words, but he didn’t pull away. He wasn’t sure how he felt that you were so distraught over the idea of liking and thinking of him the way you were.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know it hurts. But you’re not alone. I feel the same.” He just stayed there, holding your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours. You shook your head, the tears coming harder now.

“But you don’t. You don’t know how much it hurts. You slept with someone else, I slept with someone else… How are we supposed to come back from that?” You cried. Jude took a deep breath, his hands dropping to your shoulders, steadying you.

“Because none of that matters to me anymore. What matters is that you’re here, with me. And I don’t want you to leave.” Jude hummed, holding onto you firmly. He leaned forward resting his forehead against yours, taking a deep breath.

“What are you saying?” You blinked at him, your heart aching at his words. Jude knew he should tell you why. Tell you how he really felt but those words couldn’t come out.

“I’m saying… I need you,” Jude whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to do this without you. You’re the only person who makes me feel like… like everything’s going to be okay. Even when it’s not.” He took another deep breath. Your chest tightened at his confession, and despite all the hurt, all the mistakes, a part of you wanted to believe him. A part of you needed to believe him. “Stay,” he said softly, his eyes pleading. “Stay in Madrid with me. With me tonight, whenever you want. Please. We’re both hurting, I know that. But you’re the only one who makes me feel better. Holding you is the only thing that’s going to make it better.” Jude thought he might start crying so he let his eyelids flutter close.

“What if it happens again, Jude? What if we hurt each other all over again?” You looked away, your heart racing, the fear creeping in.

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I swear. I just… I just want you. I need you.” He shook his head, his grip on you tightening. You felt yourself breaking down, the tears flowing again as you leaned into him. Jude wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, holding you as if he was afraid to let go.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered. You clung to him, your sobs muffled against his shirt.

“You can,” Jude murmured into your hair. “I know you can. I know we can.” You stayed like that, wrapped in each other, both of you hurting but unwilling to let go. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t even close, but in that moment, the only thing that mattered was that you were together. You didn’t know what the future held, or if you could ever truly move past the pain, but you knew one thing for sure: you weren’t ready to walk away. Not yet.

“I was so scared, Jude,” you whispered, your voice breaking as the tears spilled over again. “I didn’t want to fall for you because I knew this would happen. I knew I’d get hurt. I knew this would happen.” You pouted with a quivering bottom lip.

“I’m so sorry, angel,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. Jude reached for you, pulling you into his arms, the tears soaking into his shirt. He held you close, his heart breaking as he felt just how deeply he had wounded you. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling. But I want to make this right. I want you here, with me. I don’t want to lose you.” He whispered. You clung to him, the floodgates unable to close as you let out all the pain and fear you had been carrying. In that moment, in Jude’s arms, you felt a flicker of hope maybe you’d be able to rebuild what had been broken.

“I want to stay,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both fear and hope. “But I’m scared, Jude. I’m too scared of getting hurt again. You really hurt me.” You cried.

“I know,” he said softly. Jude held you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out together, I promise.” And for the first time since you fled Madrid, you let yourself believe that you could. You went to sleep in Jude’s room that night in an intense silence. The air was thick with tension, as if every unspoken word, every bottled emotion had made the room smaller, tighter, almost suffocating. You had come all this way to see if there was anything left to salvage between you and Jude, but now, lying next to him in bed, you weren’t sure. The silence between you was intense, almost unbearable, but the thought of letting go was more painful. His arms were wrapped around you, and you couldn’t tell where his body ended and yours began. You weren’t sure if it was humanly possible to be as close as you two were in his bed. Despite the space you tried to keep between your minds and hearts, your bodies refused to acknowledge it. It wasn’t the same as before though. There were no whispered kisses or soft laughter. This wasn’t passion, it was desperation—an instinctual need to be close, to hold on to the only thing that felt familiar in a world that was quickly unraveling. You both stayed still for a long time, as if moving or speaking would shatter whatever fragile thing was keeping you together. The warmth of his chest against your back was the only thing grounding you, and yet it felt distant, too. Occasionally, you could feel him shift, his breath shaky, a small sniffle escaping him. In the quiet, you realized he was crying too, though he tried to hide it, just like you were. Tears silently streamed down your face, soaking into the pillow beneath you and you were pretty sure some of them would drip onto his arm. You didn’t even bother wiping them away. You weren’t sure if he could feel them, or if he already knew, but part of you hoped he did. Maybe it would save you the trouble of trying to explain the heartbreak clawing at your chest. Every breath felt heavy, every second drawn out, weighted by the regret hanging between you. The things you hadn’t said. The feelings you hadn’t admitted. The mistakes you both made that had led you here—together but impossibly apart. The words ‘I love you’ hovered unspoken in the room, almost too big to say aloud, but they screamed in your mind. If you said them now, would it fix things? Or would it make them worse? You weren’t sure. There were moments where you thought you felt Jude shift closer, as if he was trying to gather the courage to say something, but he never did. The silence remained, only occasionally broken by your mutual sniffles or the rustle of sheets. You wanted to scream, to shake him, to demand he say something, anything, but instead, you just lay there, clinging to him as if letting go would break you entirely. Hours passed, but sleep didn’t come. How could it, with so much between you that still needed to be said? The weight of it all pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe, hard to think clearly. But even then, even through the pain and confusion, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else but here, in this bed, with him. You didn’t know what the morning would bring—if you would still be holding each other or if the final goodbye was waiting on the other side of this silence—but for now, this was all you had. And even though it hurt, even though it felt like it might break you both, neither of you could let go.

That morning it was tense but Jude thought that if you flew here you must have craved the same thing he did. You wanted to close this distance. The morning air in Madrid was still cool, the early sun spilling into the room like a quiet reminder of everything left unsaid. You stood in the en-suite, your hands gripping the edge of the sink as you brushed your teeth, staring blankly at your reflection. It wasn’t just the exhaustion from travel, or even the tension that clung to the air like a suffocating fog—it was everything. Every decision, every misstep, and most of all, the pain that weighed down your chest like a heavy stone. When you finished, you walked back into the bedroom, the tension palpable in the silence between you and Jude. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, fiddling with his phone, his jaw set in a way that told you he was thinking too hard about what to say.

“Do you want breakfast?” Without looking up, he finally broke the silence, his voice quiet and almost too casual. It was an olive branch, awkward and uncertain, but it was something. You nodded, still feeling the weight of everything between you both as you glanced toward the balcony. The doors were open now, letting the morning breeze drift through. Jude had laid out breakfast on the small table outside—nothing too grand, just simple plates and chairs, but it was thoughtful. In that moment, despite everything, it was exactly what you needed.You stepped outside, the brightness of the Madrid sun almost blinding, and you gave Jude a sad smile. He followed, his movements slower, more deliberate, as if he was trying to figure out how to navigate the space between you. The small table sat between you both now, but it wasn’t the table or the breakfast that mattered—it was the unspoken words, the ghosts of last night, and the quiet ache that lingered in both of your hearts. You took a deep breath, the knot in your chest tightening as you realized you couldn’t dance around it any longer. You couldn’t pretend like it hadn’t happened, like you hadn’t both crossed a line you swore you wouldn’t. The words caught in your throat, but you forced them out, your voice soft and shaky.

“Jude,” you started, glancing down at the table before meeting his eyes. “I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done what I did, but all it’s done is made me realize—” Your voice cracked slightly, but you pushed forward. “There’s no one like you. No one.” The admission hung in the air between you both, heavy with meaning. Jude’s expression softened, but the pain was still there, written all over his face. He looked down at the table, then back at you, his jaw tightening as if he was trying to hold something back.

“I feel the same,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “What I did… I regret it. I wish I could take it back. I thought… I thought it would make it easier to forget everything, to just push it away. But it didn’t. It just made everything worse. Because it’s you—there’s no one else that’s you.” The honesty in his words hit you like a wave, but it didn’t wash away the hurt. The pain still lingered, heavy and raw, between you both. You nodded slowly, your throat tightening with the threat of tears, but you blinked them back. This wasn’t the time for tears. This was about trying to move forward, even if you didn’t know how. You looked at him, the sunlight casting soft shadows over his face, and you felt the weight of your heart in your chest.

“I think… I might be falling for you, Jude. And you don’t have to say anything back because this I know it’s probably stupid. It scares the hell out of me as well so….” You whispered. He didn’t move for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if he was trying to find the right words, to make sure you really meant yours. Then, slowly, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. The touch was tentative, but it was enough to ground you, to remind you that, despite everything, you were both still here.

“I’m falling for you too,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “And I’m so so sorry. I’m so sorry for hurting you.” The pain still lingered, gnawing at the edges of your heart, but for the first time in what felt like forever, there was a small flicker of hope. You both sat there, in the bright Madrid sun, the weight of your mistakes still heavy, but the possibility of something more—something real—finally starting to take shape. You weren’t sure if you could fully move past what had happened, but in that moment, with Jude’s hand resting on yours, you knew you couldn’t walk away either. Not yet. Not when there was still so much left to say, so much left to feel. The road ahead was uncertain, but for now, you had each other. And that, at least, was a start. Jude stood up from his chair, his eyes locked onto yours with a mix of regret and something deeper, something more raw. Breakfast was forgotten in an instant, the food sitting untouched as he closed the small space between you. “Come here,” he whispered, his voice soft but commanding, and before you could even think, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. The warmth of his embrace was immediate, and despite everything that had happened, despite the pain, you melted into him. He swayed gently, the movement slow and comforting, as the Madrid sun drenched you both in its golden light. The air was thick with the scent of the morning and the faint sounds of the city below, but up here, in this moment, it was just the two of you. Nothing else mattered. You had told yourself there wasn’t time for tears, that crying wouldn’t help anything—but the moment his arms wrapped around you, it all came crashing down. You couldn’t hold back anymore. The tears started to fall, first in quiet, controlled sobs, but soon, they were unstoppable. Your face pressed into his chest, your fingers clutching his shirt as if letting go wasn’t an option. Jude felt the shift, the way your body shook with the weight of your tears, and he tightened his hold on you, pressing a kiss into your hair. “I’m here,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “I’m here… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He kept repeating it, over and over, the words flowing out of him like a mantra, as if saying it enough times might somehow erase the pain. But it wasn’t just about the apology—it was the way he held you, the way he swayed with you in his arms, as if you were the most fragile thing in the world, and he needed to keep you safe. Neither of you wanted to let go, neither of you could. The tears kept coming, your body trembling against him, but Jude didn’t move. He didn’t pull away, didn’t try to comfort you with empty words. He just held you, letting the weight of the moment sink in. You stayed like that for what felt like ages, swaying back and forth in the sunlight, the world around you fading into the background. Finally, your sobs began to quiet, though the tears still flowed. You buried your face deeper into his chest, his heartbeat steady against your ear, grounding you in a way nothing else could. His hand stroked your back, slow and gentle, like he was trying to soothe the ache that had settled between you both. It wasn’t a moment of resolution, but it was something. A step. And as you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, you realized that despite everything, neither of you were ready to let go. Not of each other, not of the possibility of what you could still be. And for now, that was enough.

The atmosphere between you and Jude was tense at a bar. Despite the emotional reconciliation, Jude seemed to just move on after that. He was sweet to you of course but it kind of bothered you that he was acting as if everything was just as before. Just as before where Jude was primary, you were in secondary when it came to life in Madrid. Just as before where clarification about your relationship wasn’t needed. Jude could talk to the girls who wanted a photo but the second you took a step closer to lean over the bar towards the male bartender Jude’s eyes lit with fear and unfortunately a bit of possessiveness and annoyance. The feeling of your indiscretions still weighing on you both. The neon lights flickered outside, casting colorful shadows on the cobblestone streets of Madrid. Inside, the music was loud, the energy high, and the crowd lively—a perfect distraction from the lingering tension simmering between you. You didn’t like to be told what to do and even though it wasn’t being vocalized you were determined to prove a point tonight, that Jude couldn’t. Jude wasn’t the only one who could command attention, and you were tired of feeling like he was the one in control of this relationship. You’d now flown across the Atlantic Ocean for him twice now and yet there was still no clarification on what you were to him. If he wanted you to act like you were his, he’d have to tell you you were not just assume it. You knew people noticed you, but Jude had a way of overshadowing everything, making you feel like just another part of his world. Tonight, you wanted to remind him that you weren’t just an accessory on his arm. You were not like all those who had bowed down to him before. As you settled into a corner of the bar, Jude’s friend Aurelien had joined you, his usual easygoing charm on full display. Aurelien was one of the few people in Jude’s circle that you genuinely felt like you got on with and you knew he liked you. He was funny, handsome, smart, and—most importantly—he didn’t treat you like you were just Jude’s girl. You both spoke French, and tonight, you decided to use it to your advantage. The night had started innocently enough—but as the drinks flowed and inhibitions lowered. Flirting had always been second nature to you, and tonight was no exception.

“Salut, Aurel, ça fait longtemps,” [Hi, Aurel, it’s been a long time!] you said, your voice lilting as you slipped effortlessly into your shared language. You leaned in close to Aurelien, your lips curving into a playful smile as you greeted him in French.

“Ça va, YN? Toujours aussi belle,” [Are you okay, Y/N? Still so beautiful,] Aurelien replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he responded in kind. You exchanged pleasantries, your conversation light and easy, but with an undercurrent that was meant to get under Jude’s skin. And it worked. Jude watched you, his jaw tightening as he struggled to follow the rapid exchange. He didn’t know enough French to follow and the pace you and Aurelien were speaking at made it even harder to keep up. He didn’t like being left out. It felt deliberate, and it stoked the jealousy that had already been smoldering since the Instagram stories. You could feel Jude’s gaze on you, but you didn’t stop. You laughed at something Aurelien said, a light, airy sound that made Jude’s chest tighten. He knew what you were doing, and it drove him crazy. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—possessive, insecure, like he was the one who had to fight for your attention but he had been feeling it essentially since you met. It made him realize just how much he cared, how deeply he was already in. Seeing this in person made things brutally more painful than seeing it on his phone’s screen.

“Enough,” Jude said, his voice low and tense, leaving no room for argument. After a while, Jude wasn’t able to take it anymore. “We’re going home, yeah?.” He reached out, gently but firmly wrapping his hand around your waist, pulling your attention away from Aurelien.

“Already?” you asked, feigning innocence as you met his gaze. “But we’re having such a good time.” You looked at him, surprised by the intensity in his eyes. You knew you had pushed him, but you hadn’t expected this reaction.

“Now, Y/N,” Jude insisted, his grip on your wrist tightening just enough to make his point clear.

“Bonne nuit ma belle.” [Good night, beautiful.] Aurelien looked between you, sensing the tension. He offered you a sympathetic smile, but didn’t interfere. “Jude, hablaré contigo mañana.” [Jude, I'll talk to you tomorrow.] He gave you both a small wave before turning back to the bar. The car ride home was silent, the air between you thick with unspoken words. You could feel the tension radiating off him, but you didn’t back down. You had wanted to make a point, and it seemed like it had worked. As soon as you were inside, Jude turned to face you, his eyes dark with a mix of emotions— jealousy but most of all, desire. The second you both stumbled through the door, the click of the lock barely audible over the tension, Jude's hands were on you-possessive and insistent.

“Why do you have to do this angel? Why won’t you just be a good girl?” He demanded, his voice rough as he tried to keep his devious smirk at bay. You knew he was gaslighting you. God were you embarrassingly turned on though. The intensity in his words took you by surprise.

“You did it first.” You quipped trying to not cave too easily. You crossed your arms over your chest, meeting his gaze defiantly. “Why is it okay for people to fawn over you, but not for me?” you shot back. “You’re not the only one who can turn heads, Jude. I’m not just some accessory to your life.” You explained a bit more seriously than both you and Jude were expecting. He took a step closer, his worry now surpassing his lust.

“I know you’re not,” he said, his voice going soft with emotion. “But you’re mine, Y/N. I don’t want to see you with anyone else. I can’t stand the thought of it. Do you understand that? Not in Manhattan, not in Madrid, not anywhere in the world.” He explained to you, Jude's voice was low and dangerous. Suddenly as you glanced down and saw his pants beginning to tent and you smiled greedily. “Nah, if you wanted my cock so bad all you had to do was ask, angel. I'd fly anywhere in the world for this pussy.” Jude hand slowly came and gripped around your neck. At first it was gentle but then he squeezed taking your breath away. He gave you a smirk that made your pussy throb. His brown eyes smoldering with possessiveness. Jude's hands were on you-insistent. Jude wasted no time after that, pushing you against the door, his body caging you in. "You like to play with fire, don't you, baby?" he murmured, his warm breath fanning your neck. "Flirting with Aurelien right under my nose. You know no one turns you on the way I can though, isn’t that right?" He had you trapped you between the cool surface and the overwhelming heat of him. His lips found yours in a messy, hungry kiss, like he had been waiting all night for this moment, like every touch outside the door was just a tease for what was coming. Your head spun, not just from the alcohol, but from the intensity of his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin like he couldn't get close enough. His kisses were fiery, desperate, as his lips trailed down your neck, igniting your skin wherever they touched. You gasped as his mouth grazed your collarbone, your hands instinctively gripping his hair, pulling him even closer. "You're just f’me," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “You know you’re just a whore for me.” His hands roamed your body with a mixture of tenderness and urgency, fingers tracing the curve of your waist before slipping under the hem of your top. The friction between your bodies was electric, every movement charged with desire. Your heart raced, pounding in your chest as his lips found yours again, more demanding this time, as though he couldn't stand the distance between you any longer. He had you pinned against the door, you could feel his need, his possessiveness, like he was marking you with every touch, every kiss. The world outside didn't exist anymore-just you and him, lost in each other.

"J-Jude, I didn't mean..." You melted into his hold, completely consumed by the heat of the moment, his touch searing into your skin like fire. You gasped as his hands moved to slid up your thigh, lifting your skirt. Your clothes were just disappearing second by second.

"Shh..." He silenced you with a finger on your lips. "You don't need to explain. I understand what you want, Y/N. You just wanted my attention." He patronized you in the hottest way and even though you knew you should hate him for it it had you desperate for him. His hands reached for the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding them down your legs. You trembled as he exposed your wetness, your body betraying your guilt. "You're so wet, baby. Do you know why?" Jude's voice was a low purr, his fingers teasing your sensitive folds.

"N-no," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire.

"Because you wanted my attention and now that you’ve got it, you’re excited for me to punish you for being a whore tonight. And you’re gonna love it because you only get to be like this f’me, hmm?" With that, he delivered a sharp smack to your exposed ass, making you cry out.

"Fuck! Jude, please..." You squirmed against the door, your body already responding to his dominance. You moved your hips towards him, his fingers dragging through your fold and then pushing deep inside you. One of his massive hands gripping your ass then the other taking his thumb sliding it from your entrance to your clit. The base of his fingers and knuckles were wet with your slick sliding in and out of you as he simultaneously began to make tight circles on your clit.

"Please what, angel?" He landed another spank as he multitasked, leaving a stinging sensation on your skin. "Do you like being punished for flirting with my friends? Does it make you wet knowing I'm the only one who can touch you like this?"

"Yeah, please... more..." You couldn't deny the pleasure his words and actions were eliciting. Your head fell back, exposing your neck. His lips quick to find your neck, sucking on your sensitive skin. You bucked your hips up against his hand as he moved his fingers in and out of you, his thumb still working your clit.

"That's my good girl. You know who you belong to. I'm going to remind you just how much you're mine. Remind you of the way only I can make you feel." Jude chuckled, the sound sending a thrill through your body. You felt his free hand roam over your body, claiming every inch of you. His fingers pinched your nipples through the lace of your bra, eliciting a moan from your lips. "That's it, let me hear your sweet voice," he encouraged, his breath hot against your ear. "Tell me how much you want my cock." You knew your climax had been rapidly approaching and then he snatched it away. You gasped with a whine. Jude was in control tonight and he was making sure you knew that.

"I want it your cock, Jude, please!” You pleaded, your words fueled by the building desire. Your hand trailed down to the front of his boxers, cupping his length. He groaned into your mouth as you kissed him. You squeezed lightly, feeling the precum soaking through the thin material. His cock twitched under your hand as you rubbed him through his boxers. You slowly began to kiss down Jude’s body.

“Fuck baby. You want to be a good girl now? Show me you know you’re just f’me.” Jude asked you feeling your lips above the waistband of his boxers. Never in your life had you gotten turned on by a man taking control of you, claiming you and yet Jude had you dripping. You took his cock out and greedily licked your lips at the thick length and the vein running along the side of it. You took his cock into your hand and pumped it slowly as you locked eyes with Jude, letting some of your spit drop down into it. Slowly you licked the vein from base all the way up till you wrapped your lips around the tip. Jude’s hands immediately found their way to the back of your head, grabbing your hair tight. You moaned around his length. Jude inhaled as you took more of him until he hit the back of your throat, he bit his lip watching you bop up and down on his cock. “You love having my cock in your mouth, angel, huh? Look so sexy like this.” he groaned. You moaned and the hum vibrated through him. You took him deeper picking up the pace, minute after minute flying by. “Baby…you’re gonna make me cum like this.” Jude groaned as you let him fuck your face. “You don’t want me to cum in your mouth though do you? I think you like it when I cum somewhere else, that right?” Jude breathily got through his words. You nodded as he cupped your chin and pulled you off him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The sight of you with drool pooling in the corners of your mouth, tears on your lash line had him in a lustful haze. He roughly pulled you up and pressed his lips to yours.

"Please, fuck me. Remind me I’m yours." You begged him pulling away from the kiss. He wasted no time. He pulled his shirt over his head. Once his shirt was off, he picked you up, his hands sliding over the curve of your ass, down under it, and to the backs of your thighs, lifting you off the ground. He wrapped your legs around his waist, settling you there. He reached down and positioned himself at your entrance. Without direction you dragged Judes fingers up to your mouth taking two of them into your mouth. You moaned, wrapping your lips around his fingers as his length slowly filled you. He took his hand from your mouth both his hands palming your ass, pressing your back to the door in a fury.

"Oh my god, fuck.” you cried out as he entered you in one swift motion, filling you completely. Jude's hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as he began to thrust.

“Mmm. That’s it. That’s the spot, huh?” He smugly smiled as he found your g spot in an instant. Your face scrunched, and jaw slacked with a nod confirming. “Feel so good, baby" He grunted, his breath ragged. "So tight and wet around my cock.” He groaned. Your body felt like it was on fire as you pushed your heel into his muscular back.

“Jude, I fucking love y… your cock.” You whined, almost catching yourself out as you bounced on his cock. You called out his name as he hit all the spots perfectly fit for him. The pace, the force, every stroke was everything you could ever want. You leaned in, your lips slamming into his again as he continued to pound into you.

“God, you love it like this, don’t you?” He growled moving his lips, kissing up your jaw to your ear before nippling on it, then grazing his teeth down your neck. Your pussy tightened around his cock. You were a mess as Jude guided your hips. You were barreling into an orgasm. Jude pushed you harder against the door letting one of his hands drop in between you two to find your clit. “That’s right. Cum f’me baby.” And with that your body convulsed as you came undone on Jude’s cock. The coil in your stomach snapped, the pressure sending Jude over the edge with you. Your orgasms hit you like waves, crashing over your bodies. Your nails dug into his muscular back as you rode the intense pleasure. Jude's grip on your hips tightened, holding you in place as he continued to thrust. Your bounces slowing down to a stop. His sweat-coated chest heaved as he lazily smiled at you with a look that you could describe as love.

"YN, I..." Jude's words turned into a growl as he emptied himself deep within you, his hot cum filling your core. As your bodies calmed, he pulled you close, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss until he pulled away almost breathless. "I understand tonight…" he whispered against your mouth. Your bodies still buzzing from the intensity of it all. The air between you felt different—charged but also heavy with unspoken words. Jude looked down at you, his gaze soft but serious, the remnants of that fiery possessiveness from earlier still lingering in his eyes. His fingers traced gentle lines along your though, as though grounding himself in your presence. “But you know…” he began, his voice low and thoughtful, “I’m not blind to it. I know how everyone looks at you.” You turned your head slightly to meet his eyes, sensing there was more he needed to say. He exhaled, his hand pausing on your skin. “You’re so… God, you’re the most gorgeous girl in Madrid. In Manhattan, too. I see it in their faces—my friends, strangers, people at clubs. They all see what I see. And I know…” His voice wavered for a moment, the vulnerability seeping through, “I know how coveted you are. I know what it must feel like for them, knowing I’m the one who gets to be with you.” You blinked, taken aback by the rawness in his words. He wasn’t just talking about your looks—there was something deeper there, something that made your heart ache in the best possible way. Jude leaned in closer, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “But it’s not just that I get to sleep with the hottest girl in Madrid or Manhattan,” he continued softly, “I don’t take for granted that I’m the one who gets to know you. Like really know you, behind the glass; your fears, your dreams, the way your mind works, the things that make you laugh. No one else knows you like that. And I’m so fucking lucky you let me be that guy.” His admission hung between you, raw and real, and you felt your chest tighten with emotion. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he looked at you like you were his world, his everything. “I don’t take any of this for granted,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Not for a second and I’ll never stop being grateful for that.” You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as your fingers instinctively reached for his, intertwining them with yours. It wasn’t just about the jealousy or the possessiveness—it was about the way he saw you, understood you, and cherished you in a way no one else ever had. You smiled softly, your heart full, knowing that despite everything—the flirting, the teasing—it all came back to this: the two of you, here, together, holding onto something that felt too precious to let slip away.

"Thank you. That means a lot to me.” You smiled, a little breathless, as you realized the depth of your submission to this man. The night's events had transformed into a powerful reminder of the intense connection you shared, leaving you both satisfied and utterly spent. This was a little fun though, no, Jude?” You giggled. He nodded very matter of factly. You headed upstairs drunk off a little bit of tequila still lingering and very drunk off him. You were slightly mortified he just fucked you in the foyer but it was late. It was morning essentially and that made it all the more risky.

“It’s okay.” He whispered in your ear reassuring you as he walked behind you, his arms wrapped around you as you carried half of your clothes upstairs in your hands. “You just can’t help yourself. No one can make you feel the way I can and you just were so horny for me. You couldn’t wait.”He kissed your bare shoulder.

“Oh my god! Shut up honestly.” You groaned through a quiet giggle. “You came home and were all over me because you are the most jealous man I’ve ever met. I spoke french to Aurelien for 5 minutes and you came home and you just couldn’t help yourself because no one can make you feel the way I can and you just were so horny for me.” You quipped reciting his words back to him. He kissed your hair and then rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t wait.” You kissed your teeth.

“Yeah yeah yeah. You got me but let’s face it we’re very good at fucking. It’d be a shame to waste such talent, hmm?” He kissed behind your ear. You shook your head as you entered his bedroom. Jude turned you around to face him, his hands framing your face as he looked into your eyes. “Y/N, jokes aside. I don’t want anyone else, and I don’t want you with anyone else, yeah?” Jude honestly told you. Your breath caught in your throat at the intensity of his words. For so long, you had been afraid to let yourself fall, afraid of getting hurt, but now, hearing Jude’s confession, you felt your own walls start to crumble. You nodded terrified agreeing to this all over again.

The weeks that followed your decision to stay in Madrid were filled with a rare kind of bliss. You and Jude had found a rhythm that felt effortless, your days punctuated by moments of quiet intimacy and your nights by passion that left you both breathless. It was easy to forget the outside world when it was just the two of you, cocooned in your own little bubble. But the bubble had to burst eventually, and it did with the arrival of Trent and Whitney. Whitney and Trent arrived in Madrid with an energy of excitement, and Denise warmly welcomed them into the house. After a quick chat downstairs, Denise mentioned that Jude was upstairs in the shower, you probably just in the room, and sent them up to put their luggage away in one of the guest rooms. As Trent carried the bags up, Whitney trailed behind him, admiring the home decor. When they reached the guest room, Trent placed the suitcases down and stretched. He wandered over to the large window, taking in the view of the rolling Spanish hills. But something else quickly caught his attention. From his vantage point, Trent could see directly onto the balcony connected to Jude's bedroom-and there, completely unaware of their audience, were you and Jude. Jude's hands were gripping your ass, your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked into you. Kissing you deeply, the two of you lost in each other, the moment heated and intimate under the Spanish sun. The sound of music and the running shower from inside Jude's room clearly meant to mask the intensity of your connection from anyone nearby.

"Erm… Whit baby, this is one hell of a shower Jude is having." Trent blinked a few times, taken aback for a split second, and then burst out laughing. Barely able to contain himself, he waved her over. Whitney walked over, curious, and followed Trent's gaze.

"Oh my God!" she gasped, immediately reaching to cover Trent's eyes with a mix of shock and laughter. The second she saw what was happening, her eyes widened. "Don't look, T! Oh my God!"

"Hey, they're just... taking advantage of the view. It's their balcony." Trent just chuckled, shaking his head. Whitney, now laughing, peeked again and then sighed, still mortified but amused.

“Well, I guess that's why Y/N enjoys Madrid so much." She kept her hand over Trent's eyes, playfully scolding him, but neither could stop laughing. They both backed away from the window, sharing a knowing look. "Let's let them, uh... finish Jude's 'shower," Whitney said, still giggling. They left the guest room quietly, trying their best not to make any noise as they made their way back downstairs, barely able to contain their laughter at the unexpected scene they'd stumbled upon. Trent had a game against Atletico Madrid yesterday and Whitney decided to tag along and extend their stay. Both their visit and your reconciliation was the perfect excuse for a party. Jude’s sprawling villa in the hills outside Madrid ideal for the occasion—luxurious, private, and large enough to accommodate the guest list that had grown exponentially over the days leading up to the event. The night of the party, the house was transformed. Lights twinkled in the trees that lined the driveway, the pool was lit up in shades of blue, and music pulsed through the speakers around the expansive outdoor space. People had come in droves—teammates, moreover athletes in general, influencers, and socialites. The kind of crowd that made the party a must-attend event, even if you didn’t know the host personally. As the night wore on, the atmosphere grew more electric. The heat of the day had settled into a balmy evening, but the temperature inside the house was rising. Drinks were flowing, laughter echoed off the walls, and the music was loud enough to vibrate through the floors. It was the kind of party where everyone was vying for attention, where girls dressed to the nines tried to catch the eye of one of the many footballers in attendance. But Jude was oblivious to most of it. He stood off to the side, leaning against a column with a drink in hand, his eyes never straying far from you. You were talking with Whitney near the pool, your laugh carrying over the noise, and Jude felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol. You were radiant tonight, your Ferragamo woven fringe mini dress perfectly draping off your body, your hair slicked back into a low bun exposing your bare back and patina Bottega drop earrings. He wasn’t the only one who noticed, either—he had seen more than a few guys look your way, their eyes lingering a little too long for his liking.

“Hell of a party, mate,” Trent said, coming over, clapping Jude on the back and pulling him out of his reverie, a wide grin on his face as he surveyed the scene. “Who knew you had a knack for this. Give Whit a run for her money. Don’t tell her I said that though.” Trent laughed. Jude followed with a chuckle, but his gaze was still fixed on you.

“Yeah, it’s something. But I really just had Y/N sort it,” he replied, though his mind was elsewhere. The atmosphere was warm, though slightly chaotic. After the rocky week you’d had, being surrounded by friends seemed like the perfect distraction but you were proving to be a distraction for him right now.

“They know how to throw a party, they know how to dress for one as well, hmm?” Trent remarked, nodding toward you and Whitney. He followed Jude’s line of sight and smirked. “Can’t say I blame you for being so distracted, I’m in the same boat.”

“She’s so amazing, bro. I really like having her here” he said, his tone more serious than he intended. “A lot more than I ever thought I would.” Jude tore his eyes away from you long enough to give Trent a look. Trent raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press.

“Yeah, mate, course,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “Just don’t let her catch you brooding in the corner all night. Girls like her don’t like that.” Trent joked. He wasn’t really even sure what he meant but the sentiment stood. Jude didn’t need the reminder. He knew exactly how rare you were, and the thought of losing you—even in the smallest way—was enough to make him feel uneasy. But he wasn’t about to let his jealousy ruin the night, not when things had been so good between you. As if sensing his thoughts, you looked over at him, your eyes meeting his across the crowd. You gave him a smile, the kind that made his heart skip a beat, and excused yourself from Whitney to make your way over to him. Jude straightened up as you approached, his earlier tension melting away in your presence.

“Who knew the host was so handsome.” You giggled. “Enjoying the party?” you asked, your voice soft as you reached him, your hand lightly brushing against his arm.

“Not as much as I’m enjoying looking at you,” Jude replied, his lips curving into a smile as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re the most beautiful thing here, you know that?”

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” you teased, though the compliment had clearly flustered you. You blushed, your eyes sparkling as you looked up at him.

“Only when it comes to you,” he said, his hand finding the small of your back, drawing you closer to him. Jude’s smile widened. For a moment, the noise of the party faded into the background, and it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other. Jude could feel the familiar pull between you, the magnetic connection that made it impossible to stay away from you for long. He wasn’t sure what it was about you that had gotten so deep under his skin, but he knew he didn’t want it to end. “I’m glad you stayed, angel” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the music. “Thank you so much for coming back.” He sadly smiled.

“I’m glad I stayed too,” you replied, your hand coming up to rest on his chest. “And just so you know, you’re the only one I’m interested in tonight.” You looked up at him, your expression softening under his gaze. Jude felt a surge of relief at your words, the last remnants of his earlier jealousy fading away.

“Good,” he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “Because you’re the only one I want.” He whispered and your heart fluttered. Jude’s house was alive with the sounds of music, laughter, and clinking glasses. Both of you dancing around the fragile reconciliation you both had recently achieved. But, despite the fun, the air held a lingering tension. The party was filled with faces you didn’t recognize, girls who clearly had no idea Jude was seeing anyone.

"Where’s Jude at?" One girl leaned in closer to ask Toby. As the evening progressed, a group of girls gathered near him, drinks in hand, casually glancing around the room.

"He’s with his missus." Without hesitation, Toby, always quick with a response, looked up from his drink, scanning the room.

"Wait, Jude Bellingham is seeing someone?" one of them asked, almost incredulously. “The Jude Bellingham?” The girl almost choked. The girls exchanged surprised glances, clearly caught off guard by the revelation. Toby nodded, eyes scanning the room until they landed on you and Jude. You’d retreated to the corner of Jude’s living room, away from the crowd. You were curled up together on a sofa now, Jude’s arm draped casually yet protectively around your shoulders, both of you wrapped up in quiet conversation. The soft glow of the lights made the scene look almost too intimate for the party’s bustling energy. From across the room, you caught the subtle shift in attention and noticed the group of girls whispering while throwing glances in your direction. Toby’s gaze followed, a smirk playing at his lips as if he knew something they didn’t.

"Maybe we should sit up or, I don’t know, tone it down? People are staring," you whispered, your voice laced with hesitation. Feeling the weight of the eyes on you, you shifted uncomfortably and turned to Jude. But Jude, caught up in the comfort of having you close, shook his head and tightened his grip on you.

“Let them look,” he said casually, brushing a kiss against your temple. "I don’t care what anyone thinks. All I care about is you." You tried to protest again, your self-consciousness rising, but Jude silenced you with a smile that left no room for doubt. He wasn’t hiding you, and for once, you weren’t a secret. Toby, seeing the whole scene unfold, raised his drink in a silent toast from across the room, acknowledging the quiet but significant shift in Jude but there was something almost taunting about it. It wasn’t just about you anymore—it was about you both, together. And whether or not the girls liked it, Jude wasn’t about to let you go and you were trying to read just what Toby thought about that.

As the night wore on, the party continued to buzz around you, the laughter and chatter of the guests creating a lively backdrop to the quieter, more intimate moments Jude and you were sharing. You hadn’t moved in hours. The couch you settled on was plush and inviting, a perfect spot to unwind and steal a few moments for yourselves.You nestled into Jude’s side, your head resting on his chest as he draped an arm around your shoulders. The warmth of his body against your was comforting, grounding you in the midst of the chaos that swirled around you. You were close enough to the action to still feel a part of it, but far enough away that you could have a conversation without having to shout over the noise. You just sat there, content in each other’s presence. Jude absentmindedly played with a tassel of your dress twirling it around his finger as he looked down at you. There was something so peaceful about moments like this—when it was just the two of you, and the rest of the world seemed to fade away. After a while, Jude broke the comfortable silence.

“You know,” he began, his voice soft but carrying an undertone of seriousness, “I’ve been thinking a lot about us lately.” He cooed.

“What about us?” you asked, your voice gentle as you studied his expression. You tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes curious. Jude paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. Embarrassingly you were hoping he’d give you some sort of label.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone before,” he admitted, his tone earnest. “You’re… different. You’re like a piece of art—one of those masterpieces that people spend their whole lives searching for. And somehow, I got lucky enough to find you.” Jude’s expression was serious.

“That’s quite the compliment,” you said, your voice touched with amusement. “You’re saying I belong in a museum?” You felt your heart swell at his words, a soft teasing smile playing on your lips.

“Not a museum,” he corrected, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. Jude chuckled, shaking his head. “You belong in a private collection, where only the right person can fully appreciate you. You’re not just beautiful, Y/N. You’re one of a kind.” he mused.

“I think you’re giving me too much credit,” you murmured, though his words had clearly touched you. Your smile widened, but there was a hint of shyness in your eyes. It wasn’t a label but this was a sweet conversation.

“No, I’m not,” Jude insisted, his voice firm but tender. “I mean it. There’s something about you… something I can’t quite put into words. It’s like you’ve got all these layers, and every time I think I’ve figured you out, there’s something new. Like those paintings that reveal something different every time you look at them.”

“You really know how to flatter a girl, don’t you?” you teased, though the affection in your voice was unmistakable. “But you know, I’ve always thought of you as more of a sculpture. Strong, defined… but there’s a softness to you that people don’t see unless they get close enough.” You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head slightly. Jude’s expression softened at your words, his thumb gently stroking your shoulder.

“I like that,” he said quietly. “I like that you see me that way. But I think you’re the first one to get that close to me, Y/N. You’re the artist or maybe the gallerist I guess who brings me to life.” He smiled. You felt a lump form in your throat at the sincerity in his voice. You had always been careful with your heart, afraid of letting anyone get too close, but with Jude, it was different. He saw you in a way no one else did, and that scared you as much as it thrilled you.

“You’re important to me, Jude,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “More than I ever expected. Sometimes I feel like I’m still figuring out what this is… what we are. But I know one thing for sure—I don’t want to lose you.” Jude’s grip on your tightened slightly, as if he were afraid you might slip away.

“You won’t lose me,” he promised, his voice firm. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I want to be here, with you, angel, for as long as you’ll have me, as long as you want to stay.” He gently cooed. You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, a silent acknowledgment of everything you were feeling but couldn’t quite say. When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, closing your eyes as you let yourself savor the moment.

“Stay with me tonight,” Jude whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “Just like this. I don’t care about the party or anyone else here. I just want you.” He cooed.

“I’m not going anywhere, Judey.” You nodded with a smirk, your voice catching as you replied. As you stayed there with him, Jude felt fear wash over him. Just how smitten he was was ringing every alarm bell. He could feel it and although with you in his arms settling his racing heart he began to panic watching his other world spin around him and you creating a whole new one for him that just didn’t seem to be able to merge. You stayed curled up in Jude’s arms for what felt like hours, the world outside your little bubble fading away as the party continued to swirl around you. The music, the laughter, the clinking of glasses—it all became background noise to the comforting rhythm of Jude’s heartbeat under your ear. You could have stayed like that forever, letting the warmth of his body seep into you, but eventually, the effects of the wine and the hours of sitting began to catch up with you.

“I think I drank a little too much,” you murmured, your voice a mix of amusement and self-awareness as you glanced up at him. You shifted slightly, trying to ignore the way the room tilted ever so slightly as you moved.

“Yeah? You’ve had a long day, angel” he said gently, brushing a stray lock of fallen hair behind your ear. “Why don’t you go up to my bed? I’ll be up in a bit.” Jude’s eyes softened as he looked down at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Are you sure?” you asked, your voice laced with reluctance. You hesitated, not wanting to leave the safety of his embrace, but the warmth of the alcohol and the late hour were making you drowsy.

“Positive,” Jude replied, his tone taking on a more playful edge as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. “And angel… make sure you’re ready for me when I get there.” He whispered. The suggestion in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt a blush creep up your neck. You nodded, your heart fluttering as you pulled yourself away from him and stood up, feeling slightly unsteady on your feet. Jude watched you go, his eyes following you as you made your way through the crowded room. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as he watched your retreating figure. How could he miss someone who was still within his line of sight? The feeling was so foreign, so intense, that it almost overwhelmed him. He had never felt this way about anyone before—so completely taken, so utterly captivated. As soon as you disappeared from view, the atmosphere of the party seemed to rush back at him all at once. Like the crack of thunder. The noise, the lights, the people—it was a jarring contrast to the quiet intimacy he had just shared with you. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the realization of how deeply you had gotten under his skin left him reeling. Before he could process his thoughts, he felt a heavy hand clap down on his shoulder. Jude turned to see Toby grinning at him with a knowing look in his eyes.

“Mate,” Toby said, his voice tinged with amusement, “you’re down so bad. Oh my days.” He laughed.

“What are you talking about?” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant. Jude gave a half-hearted chuckle, shrugging off the comment even as it hit closer to home than he would have liked.

“Don’t be daft” Toby continued, his grin widening. “I saw the way you were looking at her. You’re a complete melt, bro. I never thought I’d see the day.” He raised his eyebrows.

“It’s not like that,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction. “She’s just… different.” Jude rolled his eyes, trying to brush off the teasing, but he couldn’t shake the feeling Toby’s words had stirred up inside him. Jude felt everything slipping as he was being called out. He felt out of control and he needed to get back to being Jude.

“Different? You mean she’s got you tied in knots, mate. Don’t tell me you’re getting serious about this girl. What are you doing, bro?” Toby raised his eyebrow once more, clearly unconvinced. Jude hesitated, his mind racing. He didn’t want to admit it—to himself or to anyone else—but Toby was right. He was serious about you, more serious than he had ever been about anyone. And that scared the hell out of him.

“Nah, you’re just seeing things,” he said, clapping Toby on the back. “I’m still the same lad I’ve always been.” Not wanting to dwell on the uncomfortable truth, Jude forced a grin and tried to play it off.

“Sure, Jude. Whatever you say.” Toby snorted, clearly not buying it. “But don’t let her keep you on a leash. There’s plenty of fun to be had in Madrid, where she doesn’t live, and here tonight, if you know what I mean.” Toby nodded toward a group of girls nearby, one of whom had been eyeing Jude all night. She was pretty, with a bright smile and a confident air about her. A year ago, Jude wouldn’t have thought twice about going over to talk to her. But now… now all he could think about was you upstairs, waiting for him. But there was a part of him—small but persistent—that didn’t want to let himself be so caught up in one person. He didn’t want to be the guy who got too serious, who lost his edge. He didn’t want to be the guy who let a girl tie him down, who let himself get hurt.

“You know what? You’re right,” he said, though the words felt wrong on his tongue. “Gonna go see what’s out there. Nothing’s changed here.” In a moment of defiance—against Toby’s teasing, against the feelings he couldn’t quite understand—Jude made a decision. He gave Toby a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Toby laughed, clearly pleased with himself, and gave Jude an encouraging shove in the direction of the girl. Jude hesitated for a split second, his heart tugging him in the opposite direction, but then he pushed it down. He wouldn’t let himself get too deep, too invested. Not yet. With that thought in mind, Jude walked over to the girl, putting on his most charming smile, but even as he made small talk, his mind was elsewhere—on the girl who was waiting for him upstairs, the girl who had somehow managed to make him feel things he wasn’t ready to feel.

•

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 8 - Last Night xx

[kings-highway]

haikyuu ships but its ways they said "i love you" before they had the courage to say "i love you."

daisuga: Suga's favourite movie of all time doesn't really mesh with Daichi. He thinks it's confusing and weird, and the gore is way over the top. But Suga loves it, and the comfort it provides, especially when he's sick, so Daichi always watches it with him even if he hates it. "Why do you always agree to this?" Suga asks, as Daichi's settling in to ride out another viewing. "Because it's something you love," he replies, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

iwaoi: Iwaizumi doesn't think he's ever going to convince Oikawa that he's the best setter, or that he's worked hard enough, or that he doesn't need to compare himself to everyone else. But he hates the way Oikawa can't seem to find value in himself outside of some seemingly fickle ranking system in his mind. So when they're fighting, and Oikawa keeps saying that it's just "objective fact" that Tobio is better than him, Iwa has to grab him by the face and tell him: "I won't let you slander things I care about."

ushiten: Tendou had often made the joke about being Ushijima's best friend, because it was funny. All their team, their classmates, always laughed. "He's my bestest bud," Tendou would say, because the whole school knew they made a funny pair, and it was laughable to think Ushijima would ever articulate a sentiment as juvinile as "best friends." Of course, when Ushijima realizes that people find this joke funny, he's very confused. "If it is a matter of not being good enough for you," Ushijima says, because he cannot think of a reason anyone would disparage Tendou, so it must be joke at his own expense, "then I will earn it."

kagehina: Hinata gets injured late in their second year. Its not the worst injury in the world and will heal just fine, but it takes him out of practice for a few weeks at the beginning of summer. He expects Kageyama to forget about him during this time. What good is a spiker who can't jump, can't even practice? But that doesn't happen. Kageyama seems to, if Hinata's not mistaken, dote on him. Carries his stuff, scolds him for not elevating the offended ankle properly, tells him to be careful. "Why are you being so fussy?" hinata asks. "Because I can't stand the idea of you not making a perfect recovery," Kageyama replies. "Who else could keep up with me?"

tsukkiyama: Yamaguchi likes to tease Tsukki over his lack of other friends. "You're too mean, you scare them away!" and "You're gonna have one lonely birthday if the only person who bothers to show up is me!" The last time he said this, though, Tsukki had replied with: "You're enough." and Yamaguchi still hasn't quite gotten over it yet. They celebrate his birthday just the two of them that year.

arankita: Aran came over to help on the farm over spring break. He didn't have to - between you and me, he hated that kind of physical labour anyway - but it was a way to spend a little more time with Kita before they graduated. At the end of the break, Kita surprises him by giving him a key to the house, "for emergencies," just in case. When Aran blusters and tries to ask why, Kita says: "I trust you." Considering Kita has never trusted anything except for himself and his own actions, Aran isn't sure any spoken sentiment could have meant more in that moment.

[sourrpatched]

36. Cold Heart (1.6K wrdc)

CW; Toxic Relationship, Cheating, Manipulation

Jaemin never had any interest in love, that was until he met Hwang Yewon.

It was his first year of college. Jaemin had already an idea of what he wanted to be, what he did not know was that he would need credits for an elective class.

So he found himself in public speaking. That’s where he met Hwang Yewon. Yewon who was the top of the class and known for her clean cut image and strong demeanor. She was only a year above him and yet she was so sophisticated.

Everyone knew of her, and she knew of everyone since she was quite talkative. Jaemin himself wasn’t known by his friends as a quiet person, but he found himself speechless the first time he met her.

There was a beginning of the school year party that was being held at some random junior’s house that weekend, and though Jaemin would’ve much rather stayed at home with his cats, Hyuck dragged him out anyway.

It was like destiny, he’d thought once he noticed her familiar face in the crowd. There she was in all of her glory, Hwang Yewon. Only this time it was like a whole different side of her. She stood out more than usual if that was even possible.

She wore a mid length dress with a black laced corset that hugged her body right. Jaemin didn’t know much about makeup other than how it made her eyes sparkle brighter every time it reflected the lights of the dance floor, and her red lip that was an extreme contrast to the more natural look she went for in class.

Not only was her appearance bold, but so was her personality. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, to his credit nobody else could either.

It was only a week later when he was dragged into yet another party that he saw her again. Outside of class of course. It was weird at first but he grew to see how she wasn’t much different from her school self. She was much more confident at these parties, albeit it could’ve been the alcohol. Whereas in school she hid that side just a bit.

She had approached him first which was in her nature. “You’re from my Public Speaking class right?”

“Yeah, I’m Na Jaemin.” He put his arm forward in greeting. She took it and didn’t let go. “ Let’s dance.” It was less of a question and more of a challenge.

The rest was history.

Jaemin and Yewon had began hooking up after every single weekend party they’d both attended. He wasn’t inexperienced in kissing, and he was glad nothing ever went further than that. It wasn’t something anyone knew about, not even any of his friends.

It started as a secret, one that Jaemin only accepted since he had no former experience in relationships. He was fine with it at first, well not really but there was no room to say much when Yewon’s kiss was enough to distract him from anything else.

Every weekend right before the stars were out, he would meet up with her on the rooftop of the house. They would talk about their deepest secrets, their fears, she’d mentioned once how she was always a bit nervous to really show her true self at school cause when she did before she’d only be labeled a bitch.

He had confided in her that even though his family was supportive one part of him couldn’t help but fear that he’d never be able to make them proud. He felt the people around him were much more interesting and so he thought maybe his parents would’ve been happier with a different son.

Before anything could get more serious, they’d lay and stare into the sky above in silence just for a moment. Yewon would offer a kiss and Jaemin would accept it because kissing Yewon felt like the only source of comfort he could have.

Nothing fun stays forever. It was the next week that he tried to open up again to her, this time about their relationship. He tried to tell her he wanted more than whatever they had now, but Yewon wasn’t sure he felt any love for her at all.

“You only think that now, you’ll regret it later.”

He never quite did. The more he thought about her the more he couldn’t get her out of his head and so he thought long and hard about how he would be able to prove to Yewon just how much he loved her.

He began showering her with gifts. There were times he would leave notes at her desk whenever they had class together. At this point everyone had known Yewon had a secret admirer, though there was never any sign of who it was.

Weeks passed as Jaemin tried to find more ways to prove how he felt about Yewon, but she was tough to crack. She wouldn’t take any of his confessions, notes, or even any of the times Jaemin took her out on secret dates disguised as hang outs. There weren’t anymore hookups, there hadn’t been for a while. The last couple of weeks they’d only talk about life and school, in between their hang outs.

There wasn’t any of that now either.

It was the start of December when Yewon began growing distant from Jaemin. At any turn in the hallway she would see him and ignore his existence, and though it was something Jaemin was used to, he started to feel more affected by it.

It wasn’t til before winter break that they’d met again. That time Jaemin was hoping to get answers as to why she’d been avoiding him. Before the conversation could get anymore serious, he was cut off yet again by a kiss of hers. That night she told him how much she wanted to love him, if only there was another way to prove he loved her than she could give him a chance.

She was his first. First love, first time, and with her confession of love that night he’d assumed she would be his first girlfriend. He was very wrong.

Jaemin was so in his head about Yewon he held a blind eye towards everyone around him. Everyone including his best friend Donghyuck. With every late night text he received from Yewon, he failed to notice his friend in the same situation.

It was spring when theyd returned from winter break. A new semester that he’d hoped meant a new official beginning with Yewon. He hadn’t been able to speak to her much over the break since he’d spent his time back with his family.

It wasn’t until he showed up at Wooyoung’s weekend party that he was able to see her again. It was only for a split second but it was enough to make his heart beat ten times in a second. He’d met her at their spot, the one on the rooftop where they could see the stars. Only this time, he wasn’t seeing Yewon and the night sky.

Donghyuck swore for months he hadn’t known of their relationship. Jaemin knew he wasn’t lying but it was still too painful to look him in the eye. Yewon had known of their close friendship, it didn’t make any sense to him why she would be with the both of them.

He wasn’t allowed to be mad. Him and Yewon weren’t together, and yet he couldn’t help but feel a sense of betrayal. For months she had made it seem like she couldn’t trust him, while she’d been meeting with his best friend. Even worse, after all of this came to light she never once called him to clear anything up.

He finally decided to speak to her on a Friday. He’d stopped her before she made her way out for the night. He liked to believe he was only there for an answer, but one side of him knew he was also there to make sure she made it home safely. Even with all the pain she’d caused him, he would’ve never wished the worst on her.

“I don’t understand. I talked to you about Hyuck,” Jaemin followed behind her slowly. “I opened up to you about how he’s the closest thing i’ve got to family here.”

“I really don’t want to talk about any of this right now, seriously.” Yewon said annoyance coating her voice.

“Will we ever talk about it?” He spoke desperately. “I loved you. Even now, I still love you. No matter how many times i’ve told you, you’d only ever call me a liar.”

She stayed silent so he took it as a sign to continue.

“I thought–“ his voice came out unsteady. Please don’t cry. “I thought after that night, I proved how I felt? I thought maybe it was finally enough for you to know how much I care about you. I thought I was finally enough.”

“God, shut up.” Yewon’s voice was shrill. “You can’t honestly be serious, right?”

He could only flinch.

“You are so exhausting, Jaemin. All you ever did was follow me around like a little bitch and I let it happen cause at first I found it cute but seriously, can you just fuck off?”

She let out a breathless laugh. “You know why I could never love you, it’s cause you’re just so desperate. You’re so desperate for attention, for love, for anything. It’s quite honestly embarrassing.”

Jaemin felt his heart breaking.

“You gift me things, you take me for food, and now what do you think I owe you shit? I don’t like you Jaemin, you were fun while it lasted but I have zero interest in you.”

He hadn’t noticed the way a tear ran down his face.

“Great and now you’re crying.” She let a laugh out. “I do not love you, I want nothing to do with you. And no matter how hard you tried, you were never going to be enough, how is that for a reason?”

Time felt frozen in place. The slight breeze of the night was the only thing proving that it wasn’t. That and the way Yewon turned away from him.

“Just leave me alone now.”

Those were the last words he’d ever heard from Yewon. Only a month had gone by where he went back to being invisible to her, before she had transferred to a neighboring school.

Him and Donghyuck were able to return to normal, and eventually Jaemin was able to meet new friends, Jeno and Minjeong, who happened to be in the Art club Donghyuck had joined on a whim. Jaemin’s life went back to normal, except for the fact that now that he’d experienced love he couldn’t help but yearn for it more.

The reason Hwang Yewon’s words stuck to him for so long was because they’d had some truth to it. He shouldn’t had ever expected anything from her, and in the end it was always going to be his fault for desiring more than what was.

That’s why now as he sits by the side of the ocean, on some steps leading up to the connivence store he doesn’t allow himself any tear to shed. It was his fault before, and it’s his fault again for ever thinking Y/N could love him, or anyone really.

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Author’s notes ➼ Remember when the fic said “slight angst” WELL HERE IT IS 🤣 sorry for the late chapter i have been PACKING for TMMR (yayyyy dreamies)

taglist: @yyangj3lly @junviadinho @pnkified @mystverse @daegalfangirl @girlz4jaem @222brainrot @multifandomania @hamjwis @nanaxwi @haechansbbg @lampcults @urlocalbeaner5 @onlyhyunjin @neoskzluvr @pastelzindecana @nctrawberries @tommina @rakshithanotrao @chaerinmin @injunnie-lemon @neocults26 @busy-daydreaming02 @nosungluv @alethea-moon @candied-czennie @iamsimplyasimp @channnaa @hyuck-me @clean-soap @nessaassen02 @lionzyon @neozon3nha @stqrgr7 @scarredrose25 @polarisjisung @l4narecl1pse @minniesbae

[vigilskeep]

wait, Minerva "canonically" has a baby?? i want to know everything!! when how what - how does motherhood change her, pls elaborate, srry if you talked about this before, i just love them so much

she does!! i talk abt this less bc i think its self-indulgent jghsskks and that people are less interested in this, but it’s super fun to think about for me

the baby was a surprise, minerva was kind of being stupid about it lmao because she was being less careful than she might have been in the circle, especially because she’s a warden now so she’s less likely to get pregnant at all, without really thinking through what might happen. (i’m sure our local kinloch hold spirit healer companions both had their field days telling her off for this at some point.) but as soon as it does happen she wants the baby so badly. as a circle mage and then a warden she had never really seriously considered it a possibility for herself, but she loves children, and it’s been so long since she had a real family

it’s zevran’s and zevran is in antiva most of the time. i think she has a weird crisis about whether he’ll want anything to do with a baby, and she would despise for him to come back just out of obligation but also what if he doesn’t come back, and she ends up procrastinating telling him for, like, months. just a stupid amount of time. bc she was born to stress her man out and to give her wardens unnecessary grudges against him because they thought he had obviously chosen not to be here because obviously she would have told him. truly when will his suffering end. anyway he’s thrilled when somebody eventually does him the courtesy of letting him know

the baby’s a boy, she names him duncan, it sparks a whole other argument with alistair that we won’t get into here. he gets nicknamed junior a lot, partly bc he’s duncan jr, partly bc of the ongoing joke that he’s the resident Junior Warden. he was very much raised in warden blue since the cradle. because minerva is so busy and zevran is often away, he’s pretty much collectively raised in vigil’s keep by the awakening squad and whoever else gets added to that trusted inner circle. which works out bc wardens don’t often have kids of their own so they all just kind of... share this one lmao. (and possibly sometimes also oghren and felsi’s kid if they stick around?) it’s velanna who instigates this bc that’s what the dalish do and she’s also literally the only one here who knows what to do with a baby so thank the maker she’s here (minerva’s practised with kids but by nature they don’t have babies in the circle)

i’m so thrilled that spellblade is a crow-themed rogue-like mage subclass bc that’s exactly what i always pictured for duncan jr eventually. he’s a mage, his magic manifests very young, but minerva is very strict abt his studies and it has the unfortunate reverse effect of making getting his dad or nathaniel or sigrun to teach him combat much more fun. it works out really bc his magic having manifested is a tightly kept secret so it’s good for him not to have to rely on it

being a mother kind of changes/crystallises a lot of minerva’s priorities. it’s one thing to say, like, i would like to improve the situation for my fellow mages at some point, or, it sure would be nice to live past a warden’s usual limits. it’s another thing entirely to have a mage child and need to make a world that’s safe for him and live long enough to see it done. it ends up being a key issue of her conflict with the chantry between origins and inquisition because nobody’s quite certain what the rules are. obviously if she were still a circle mage any child of hers would be taken away. but she’s not a circle mage and arguably the chantry has no right to a child born outside of the circle, with no sign yet (as far as anyone outside vigil’s keep knows) of magic. (like i say it manifested younger than normal so this is believable even to those who think he will eventually show.) it definitely exacerbates tensions, shall we say, because obviously they can pry him out of her cold dead hands

he’s probably still only quite young in inquisition. six or seven? somewhere around there, i hate timelines. not sure where he is while minerva and her squad are on their quest, but given the very short list of people she trusts that much, i have to say that the most insane answer is likely: he’s in denerim as a temporary ward of the king. probably the first elven kid to be such

[jisatsuwaifu]

Life is incredibly frustrating, stressful, and exhausting. Everyday I think “it’s okay, it’ll get better, try again tomorrow” but it just keeps proving me wrong. When I think things are getting better and I can finally relax, something else comes along and puts me right back into panic mode. It’s always something, there’s never a break. I never feel safe. All I do is complain about how sad or frustrated I am and I’m sure everyone around me is sick of hearing it. Which is fine, I wouldn’t want to be surrounded by misery when my life is good either or listen to a broken record when there’s much better music to be heard. I am my own responsibility, I shouldn’t rely on others.

My thoughts consume me. Not in a cutesy I’m just a girl cringe kind of way but in a “I need to go to sleep as soon as possible to prevent an accident” because I cannot trust my own head to comfort me but to only make scenarios worse or feed into my paranoia. I am not built to be left alone. I constantly feel like I’m too much and not enough. I’ve never felt more loved but also so alone in all my life. Everything is black and white there is no grey areas with my mind.

I just don’t think anyone knows or understands how thin I’m being stretched and how badly I’d just love for everything to stop and to be able to catch my breath. Just for a day. I’ve cried for help but I don’t think the one person I need help from genuinely hears me. I dont trust many people to begin with. There’s only so much a single person can take before it starts to cripple them. And I know I can be over dramatic and too emotional at times but this genuinely feels like the end, I can’t see past this point in my life. And the sad part is I do not know how I got here. Or this far to begin with. But I am so tired. It’s times like these I wish I had my mom back or even just a family to lean on and seek advice from, but I can’t even entertain my own sister long enough to talk on the phone with me. I don’t understand why I exist or what my purpose is if all I’ve ever been exposed to is pain and abandonment. There’s some aspects of my life that I know I serve a purpose for and want to make proud, I’m trying my hardest for that one thing. I just don’t want to cause anymore damage than I already have. I can’t be like my mother.

I just needed somewhere to vent, some outlet. It won’t change anything. I feel hopeless and empty again. I might just delete everything. I don’t know.

The best I can do right now is try again tomorrow.

( if you read all of this thanks for listening to my rant and I’m sorry I wasted your time when you could have been scrolling onto something cooler like tiddies or anime idk but ty anyways <3 )

[xyurishux]

CHAPTER 1 - AS A WHOLE, TOGETHER

Word Count: ~1.7k

Tags: GN!reader, Mentions of family disputes

Summary: You begin to tell Sebastian how deep UrbanShades rabbit hole truly goes, starting with yourself.

Pardon any writing errors, they may happen!

“ oh sweetie, you’re not ugly, society is,”

“So,

When I was younger, life was as normal as can be. I was in mediocre family, it was me, my mom and my dad. I’d only see my mom in the morning, and when I was back from school my dad would be home for dinner. It wasn’t until way later I learned about his job, but that isn’t relevant right now. My dad was a mystery to me, he’s my dad but I didn’t know much to anything about him. I saw him everyday when I got home but it’s was for such a small period of time, did it even count?

Life was so mundane and repetitive. Go to school, pass tests, summer break then restart it all over again. Life was boring but it wasn’t difficult.

I would do anything to be back there…” You paused looking out into the ocean, it was dark you could mistake it for the above, only simply at night. You breathe out from your nose continuing on with your story.

 “Anyways, it was back in September of 2009 when my father got a promotion. Seeing his face 4 to 5 hours per day dwindled down to seeing him once every two weeks or so, usually on Sundays. He became an enigma.

“You see, something I couldn’t see at the time was that as I grew older, his need to be in my life lowered, and sadly, that same fate fell too with my mother by default.

His job already took a toll on their relationship. Only spending 4 to 5 hours with your partner every day over the span of five years isn’t so great.

My mother would see him as much as I did and now, he just wasn’t there. The signs of a falling relationship presented themselves beforehand, but now it was obvious to anyone that the only thing keeping them together was me. At least, for my mom that was the case.

“The house was more silent than it ever was empty…”

You looked to the side with your eyes to see Sebastians full attention on you, perhaps it was the story? Or maybe he didn’t have anything better to do or it might have been the way your voice spoke with full sincerity and no sarcasm. It was like someone else took control but it was undoubtedly you and he was fully enthralled.

Your eyes met and you looked back down at the cold tile as you carried on.

“Ether way, it was in November of that same year where things would shift. My mom would realize the steady money flowing in and at growing amounts. Now you have to understand that my mother isn’t of the suspicious type nor is she a person who comes up with wild conclusions. She was (and still is, I hope) a reasonable and sensible woman. She knew that this wasn’t a simple ‘promotion’, but to know where all this money came from, well…she didn’t have the slightest clue. She didn’t know and she would never know. Well, truly know…

“The first snow started to fall as December began and Winter break freed me from my studying. Shockingly, dad came home for the holidays and New Years. Funny anecdote, I remember getting my first iPhone as a gift from him that year. It was an iPhone 3GS, God the memories…my mother was not pleased in slightest.” You laughed silent tilting your head to the side as your reminisced, it was good and loyal phone…

 “Continuing on, after Christmas as a family and with the family the next day, my parents had the only disagreement I’ve ever witnessed (only a disagreement, it wasn’t enough to count as a fight).

I think it was about 2 am and the only light that was on was the one above the kitchen table. My dad was sitting facing my mother who standing up, the last of the family who came over for the party had finally left. Chip bowls and wine glasses were still scattered on the coffee table, only barely visible by the outside Christmas lights. I watched as my mom tapped her nails against the wooden chair she was partly leaning on as she took a deep breath. I could tell she was tired, exhausted even but I could also tell she had something bugging her and she needed to let it out. I watched them from the darkness that the staircase provided, I was undetectable. I listened to them talk, leaning my upper body to the wooden railing trying not to miss a single word. I don’t remember much; it was about the money at first but it was nothing compared to what my mother said next.”

“Samantha, look- “

“I’m breaking up with you”

“My mother broke up with my father. I sat upon the steps dumbfounded, I didn’t expect that from their conversation but even then, I didn’t know what to expect. The last of the conversation consisted of my father staying silent and staring at the table as my mom talked important matters to him. She told him that she would stay for the New Years and then move in with a friend in an apartment she found. After that she finished the glass of wine my dad poured for her at the start and left the kitchen when he didn’t have anything to add.

I’m pretty sure that night was the only time I saw my dad cry. He was still in love with her, never ever once thinking of ending their relationship. Never ever once thinking of loving another woman.

 Most children would walk down the stairs they sat on and go comfort their weeping father or at least ask if he was okay. But our relationship was so estranged to the point where I felt no reason to go down and comfort him. He simply was just my father, nothing else nothing more.

I watched him cry silently with his head in his hand as I sat on the steps with my legs close to my chest. I sat there for a few more minutes. I don’t know why I sat there watching for so long. Maybe I was intrigued with the sight, it was something new. A man I’ve know all my life was a mystery to me and now the last sight I might ever see of him is him crying his heart out. But soon enough I got tired, I walked back up to my bedroom and fell asleep to noise of the on going shower my mom was taking downstairs.

The next morning felt cold and unbalanced. The floor was cold to the touch and it was actually closer to noon then morning. The hall was silent as I walked down it and saw at the end of it that my mom was packing a suitcase and a large duffle bag. They were both placed on the bed with an equal amount of folded and unfolded clothes thrown around the two. It was enough to be unable to see the white and blue floral comforter underneath (or I remember it to be enough). I walked into the room and as if I didn’t witness the scene at the kitchen table last night I asked, “Are we going somewhere?”

She was so concentrated with her packing that she jumped startled when she heard my voice. With her hand over her heart, she turned to me with a forced smile (I knew that it was) and spoke words that I will never forget.”

“What were they?” Sebastian asked quietly, his full upper body now laying against the desk where you two sorted files on together almost an hour ago.

You smiled, “Well,

“Sweetheart! You scared me there,” She said, her smile faltering, “No, mommy is going somewhere, alone, but not forever. You’ll have to stay with dad for awhile.” She turned her head away as she folded a few pants and placed them into her suitcase. Then she squatted, and I had to look down to see her face. Her eyes were bloodshot and her lashes wet. I felt her hands on my upper arms as she continued to talk, “Mommy, mommy needs to go find herself for a bit, okay? Not for long but mommy needs this…I love you, eternally and always”

She left the same day with kiss on the forehead, her phone number seared into my mind and a “Be good while I’m gone, I’m a single phone call away”

And then I was there, at my door step, cold and watching as my mom entered her friend’s car with one last kiss blown to me. I caught it and placed it onto my cheek as she drove off. Now it was me and my estranged father and a lot of complex emotions I didn’t know how to decipher or begin to understand at the age of ten.”

You finished, pausing to take a breath for a second while also stretching your aching muscles.

“And then what? What does this have to do with us? With me?” Sebastian asked harshly as he raised himself from the desk.

“Give me a second, I need water and a snack, I’m a bit peckish,” you joked, smirking to him, before continuing, “Ether way, we’re barely getting into the meat of the story. I was just explaining how I got stuck with my father. Now will be getting into what he was doing

behind closed doors…”

And we start rolling, ~

@splatting-stampede

[butterflyslinky]

Since AO3 is down, I'm going to continue on from this post here.

Buck spends the next several hours sitting in the hospital by Tommy's bedside. Eddie brings him coffee. Maddie forces him to eat. Eventually, the nurses kick him out because he isn't family and visiting hours are over.

(Fuck that, Buck thinks. I'm his family, we all are, he doesn't have anyone else.)

Bobby catches him in the lobby. He's staying with Athena (she's fine, just in for observation) and promises to keep an eye on Tommy as much as he can and to call Buck if anything changes.

Buck lets Maddie drive him home, because he's tired to the point of being a liability. He almost asks her to drive him somewhere else, but it's too late. It will have to wait until morning.

Maddie stays with him. Gets him to shower and go to bed, even if he barely sleeps. Stays on his couch; she probably sleeps a little, but both their phones are turned up to full volume.

The call comes at about eight, just as Buck was maybe starting to actually get some REM in.

"He's awake," Bobby says. "He's asking for you."

Buck is out of bed at once, no longer caring he hasn't slept or shaved and probably looks like death warmed over. "I'll be there in an hour," he says. "I need to run an errand first."

"What errand?" Bobby asks. Buck explains. "Okay," Bobby says. "Visiting hours don't start until then anyway."

He wakes Maddie up and asks her to drive. He probably shouldn't still. She agrees as long as he buys her breakfast. They end up in a really crappy diner that's more convenient than desirable. Buck watches the clock, waiting for it to tick over to nine o'clock.

As soon as it does, he pays the bill and leaves. Goes to the shop next door and makes his purchase.

He gets back to the hospital at 9:30. Bobby meets him in the lobby again.

"He's doing well," he says. "The doctors expect him to make a full recovery." He claps Buck on the shoulder. "Good luck, kid." He turns and offers to take Maddie home so she can get some proper sleep; Athena's been discharged so they'll be going soon anyway. Maddie agrees.

Buck goes back into the room alone. Tommy is dozing when Buck sits down, but wakes up when Buck takes his hand.

"Hey, babe," Buck says.

"Evan," Tommy says. His voice is quiet, but the word is kind. "Missed you."

"I missed you too." Buck squeezes his hand. "I know we haven't been dating very long, but...last night, they said I'm not your family and made me leave. But we are family, and I don't want that to happen again because we're both in here a lot, and so...so I wanna fix that." He reaches into his pocket and produces a ringbox. "Tommy Kinard, will you marry me?"

Tommy's face breaks into a wide smile. "Yeah," he said. "Soon as I'm out of here."

Evan laughs and slides the ring on his finger.

[tragedy-of-commons]

Congrats on 200 followers!!! You deserve everything with how much you’ve made me giggle with your stories!🎉

For your 200 followers event? May I request; Dan Heng + “Let’s meet again, in our next life…” + romantic + angst (I’m not sure if you accept the genre)

I think I’m gonna go crazy with how much angst and fluff I consume in a day

"Let's meet again, in our next life..."

It's a nice sentiment. It really is.

It also just so happened to be the best thing you could come up with, considering you're too focused on the stuttering breaths and tremors wracking Dan Heng's form. He must find it insulting, really, that you'd bring up his disposition like this, but you don't know if he can even hear you at all right now.

The storm normally brewing behind his eyes is replaced by a glazed sheen that you desperately want to remedy. You can barely find it in yourself to speak, words slurring together and becoming lost in the whiplash of the tears and shock. But you keep going. That's about all you can do.

"You--you always said I'd make a good professional nuisance. Well, that one time, anyway - I laughed so hard you didn't talk to me for two days," you ramble, threading your fingers through his matted hair. Your fingernails are caked in red, and it probably doesn't feel good in the slightest, but he doesn't even tense.

Dan Heng is still.

You sniffle, words garbled. "M-Maybe I'll peddle something door-to-door... like vacuum cleaners. Shitty ones that don't even come with a handheld and break right after the warranty expires. You'll o-open your door one day, and sparks will fly all over again."

This hypothetical scene you'd normally be pitching to him over a hearty breakfast or under the twinkling stars doesn't make either of you laugh. Instead you feel bile crawl up the length of your esophagus, threatening to spew with the rest of your guts if you persist with this poor charade.

"Or maybe you'll slam the door in my face. I don't know what could happen," you admit, because of course you don't. You don't know anything else but Dan Heng's nauseatingly cold skin and clammy hands.

There's a small number of people in this universe that will accept you. There's an even smaller number of people who will love you, that will let you inside their heart, no matter how much of a professional nuisance you may be. Finally, there's an infinitesimal amount of people - really just one - who will let you love them in return, despite it all.

And he has just slipped right through the gaps of your fingers.

"Even if you do," you hiccup violently, biting your tongue until you taste iron, "I'll stand out there all night until you recognize me."

There's no response except the buzzing of cicadas, tapping on the soft spot right between your eyes in a dull ache that hurts so bad you can't breathe.

If that's a good or bad thing, it doesn't matter; Dan Heng is not here to soothe the pain with mild-mannered but gentle platitudes. Dan Heng is not here to squeeze your hand back as you try in vain to keep up the one-sided effort.

You are alone, even as you sweep away his bloodied knot of bangs, leaning forward to press your quivering lips against his forehead tenderly.

"You k-know I would," you plead, whispering against his eyebrows and mangled nose, a tiny part of you still holding out for a sign that he's still with you - that he understands how much you love him, even if you didn't say it as much as you should've. "Dan Heng..."

Those three little words are on the tip of your tongue, foreign. It feels like an insult, knowing he won't be able to hear them. Even so, you choke the syllables out, actualizing years of subtle acts of service and inside jokes and wonderful chemistry that you'll never get to share with him again. Cradling your best friend and only treasure, you weep.

When you're torn from his side by first responders, clawing and gasping in abject hysteria, you struggle further, begging anyone who will listen not to take him away. You know he's already gone, you see it in the stiffness of his shoulders as you're dragged away, but you need him. You need Dan Heng, and you need him in not just the next life, but in this one too.

Time passes by in an unpleasant blur, reminiscent of a slideshow. Between clicks, whole days bleed into one another. You feel like you're slathered with monochrome and grayscale while stood against a background teeming with color, terribly out of place and clashing with your surroundings.

Click, you're standing in one place, and then you're not.

Click, you're lying down, only somewhat aware that if you turn over on your side, you'll be met with the barren right side of the bed. Click, you're mulling over flower arrangements and funerary rites without a hint of life in your voice.

Time has never been on Dan Heng's side, you know that for certain. He'd confided in you a few times - in whispers over poorly brewed coffee and in the middle of chaste kisses - that he may never be truly free from the shackles of his past.

Even so, you love him. You'll love him for the rest of your life, and hopefully, all throughout your next one as well. If not, you hope, with all of your shared memories at your back, that Dan Heng will find peace in his next incarnation.

You, however, won't be finding peace until you show up soliciting on his doorstep, peddling those shitty vacuum cleaners.

Until then, you suppose, choking on your tears of yearning.

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren, @synqiri

a/n: did i cry a few times while writing this one? yes. are you evil for forcing me to do this? yes. did i absolutely love every second of it? yes. by the same token, i'm glad i've made you giggle, anon! <3 loved this prompt.

event post here

[deeppenguinstudent]

My FAVOURITE kevjean fics of all time (take note of the tags).

God, this was beautifully written. I think they captured the essence of Kevin and Jean beautifully, especially Kevin. You guys just need to read it. I love it so much. This is exactly how I imagine Kevin to be if he ever gets into a relationship with Jean. I promise you it's worth it. I would recite poetry about this, but I don't want to spoil anything for you.

Okay, this is in Russian, but you can translate it directly on your Google Chrome page. There's a feature like that. I love love LOVE this trope. If anyone else writes about exchange student Jean, please, oh please, lmk!!

Depressing one-shot where Kevin is on call with Jean as he kills himself. God, I love this so much, I reread this all the time, lol.

Absolute cuties, I adore this feel good one shot!

This was actually my first ever kevjean fic, and gods, it's so amazing. The pacing, the way Jean learns to love other people? 40 000 of pure unadulterated joy when I read this

Party animal Jean is my LIFELINE. And the first chapter had me hooked beyond measure it's so well written!! like genuinely this fic is my guilty pleasure

A cute no exy fic about nerdy Kevin trying to pick up hot worker Jean at an aquarium. Fics like these give me LIFE honestly

This fic makes me so so happy whenever I read it. It's not really canon compliant but who cares?? It's beautifully written and oh my god its just such an awesome read.

Soulmate AU anyone??

Crazy how I remember this fic by heart. I think about it in my daydreams honestly.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17754014

I've used up my links lol but anyways fake dating AU kevjean makes me so happy!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54077899

Jerejean best friends and Kevin Day playing Frisbee shirtless? I'm sorry this was the pinnacle of spectacular honestly 😭😭

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27438619/chapters/67076011

Here's another kevjean reunion, is it a wonder what my favourite type of fic is? Lol.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38524621

This isn't outright kevjean, it's mainly focused on Neil and Kevin's friendship but it's so fucking funny I definitely suggest you read this if u need something light and funny.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50032441

Another outright amazing fic. God this was hilarious. Again it focuses on andreil but kevjean is there in snippets! Kevin basically thinks Andrew is cheating on Neil because he sees Andrew kissing spiderman. And spiderman is essentially Neil.

I think that's it? So far😭😭

[gimmethatagustd]

the heart nebula (1) | kth + pjm

♡ Summary: It has been a year since Jimin and Taehyung started dating, and they still haven't slept together. Jimin thinks they haven't because Taehyung doesn't want him; Taehyung thinks Jimin won't want him if they do. (Or, the one where Jimin is Taehyung's moon, and Taehyung is from the stars.)

♡ Pairing: Taehyung x Jimin

♡ Words: 8,039

♡ Rating: Explicit

♡ Genre: Science fiction, established relationship, angst, smut, fluff

♡ Warnings: Talking about outer space is both sexy and romantic (i bet you didn't know that), taehyung has tentacles or whateva, relationship insecurity, self-esteem issues, misunderstandings, sexual tension, making out, taehyung in grey sweatpants

♡ Post Date: September 16, 2024

♡ Notes: The number of times my brain tried to get me to write “testicles” instead of “tentacles” was unreal.

♡ Masterlist ♡ AO3 Crosspost 

♡ series masterlist ♡

Jimin’s parents hadn’t wanted him to move in with Taehyung. Some of Jimin’s friends also questioned what seemed like a hasty decision, though most were supportive.

Jimin finds it all rather ridiculous. Sure, he understands how big of a step moving in with someone is, and he knows that some people consider one year far too early to be taking significant steps in a relationship, but he doesn’t care. 

Anyone with reservations hasn’t spent enough time around Taehyung. If they had, then they wouldn’t have harassed Jimin over if he really wanted to do this.

Jimin was the one who had brought up the conversation about moving in, anyway. It was Taehyung who had been hesitant. Jimin can’t blame Taehyung for it; he knows their relationship is the only serious one Taehyung has ever had.

Although they haven’t spoken extensively of their past relationships, Taehyung being one of the most private people Jimin has ever met, Jimin knows that he has been Taehyung’s first for a lot of things— like saying “I love you" and moving in together — all significant steps that Jimin has taken before with other partners and forgets that not all twenty-eight-year-olds have taken them, too.

Taehyung is anything but hesitant now as he drops a cardboard box onto the bed beside where Jimin sits with his legs crossed and his hands in his lap.

It's impressive how strong Taehyung is despite his lean, unsuspecting figure. He nearly single-handedly carried all of Jimin’s belongings from their rented moving truck up the four flights of stairs to his apartment unit. Jimin had felt silly following behind Taehyung with an occasional plant or lighter box cradled in his arms.

“T-shirts and shorts folded, everything else hung?” Taehyung asks as he refolds one of the t-shirts packed in the cardboard box.

He doesn’t look up from his work, so he misses the affectionate smile that Jimin directs at him.

“Yup! I’m surprised you noticed that,” Jimin says, biting the tip of his tongue between his teeth in a teasing kind of way Taehyung loves.

Jimin’s comment causes Taehyung to look up and roll his eyes. 

“Ah, you act like I don’t pay attention to you.” He grabs a second t-shirt and ignores the tongue Jimin sticks out at him. “You should be nice to me. I’m handling the worst part of moving for you.”

"Oh, really?" Jimin taunts, sitting back with his hands pressed behind him to prop himself up as he watches Taehyung carry the neatly folded t-shirts into the walk-in closet in his—  their  —bedroom. "And what part is that?" he asks.

“Unpacking!” Taehyung’s voice sounds muffled; he’s likely bent over, putting away the t-shirts in the dresser drawers.

Unpacking is the worst, aside from all the manual labor that goes into the literal act of moving. The dark strands of Jimin's hair are gathered into a neat ponytail on top of his head, keeping his face cool after sweating all morning. 

Mornings are supposed to be cooler, but the late-summer heat is relentless at any hour. Jimin is lucky that Taehyung isn’t stingy with his electricity bill and lets Jimin crank up the air conditioning. They’ll be splitting their utility bills from now on, anyway. That little detail is such an adult thing, not even exciting, considering it’s just paying bills, but it makes Jimin giddy because from now on, it’s  Jimin and Taehyung. 

They’ve always fit each other well like they were meant to have found each other despite being tiny, insignificant specks in a grand universe. Their hearts knew, but now that they'll live together, they're ready to show the world it’s them. It’s always going to be them, Jimin hopes.

"You look exhausted, little moon," Taehyung murmurs when he returns from the closet and finds Jimin curled up on his side, embracing a large body pillow. The pillow is shaped like a mandu with a whimsical face, and its smile mirrors Jimin's.

“I’m not,” Jimin says with a yawn that he tries to hide behind the pillow.

He buries the bottom half of his face in the soft fabric and squeezes the plushie against his chest. Taehyung won the pillow for Jimin while playing a game at a local festival. It happened on their cliche first date just over a year ago. 

Jimin will never forget the sparkle of the colorful lights reflecting in Taehyung’s eyes when he shyly admitted that he’d never been to a festival. His confession was both sad and confusing to Jimin. How could Taehyung have missed out on so many experiences that Jimin finds commonplace, even inconsequential? Jimin supposes that these are privileges he never took the time to be grateful for.

“Oh, my little moon, what a sneaky thing he is,” Taehyung playfully chastises Jimin with a boxy smile. “What will I do with him?”

Little moon, my moon, pretty moon  — Taehyung gave Jimin the nickname early in their relationship. Unconventional and romantic, it's somehow just as perfect a reflection of Jimin’s beauty as it is a reflection of Taehyung's quirky personality that drew Jimin to him in the first place.

Jimin shifts to the edge of the bed where Taehyung is standing, both forgetting about the half-unpacked box of clothing and other trinkets that Jimin had hastily thrown into it in a moment of last-minute packing panic.

“Give him kisses, maybe?” Jimin looks up at Taehyung with wide eyes and juts out his plush bottom lip.

“Hmm… kisses, the only universal currency.”

Jimin smiles in response, understanding Taehyung so well but never quite knowing what might come out of his mouth next. His breath hitches when Taehyung runs his fingers through the hair at his temple, gripping the strands gently but firmly.

The way Taehyung treats Jimin is tender. While he refers to Jimin as his moon, he handles him delicately, as if aware of his mortality.

Life is promised to no one, and Jimin feels that's why Taehyung's lips meet his with deliberate slowness. Taehyung's touch sends electricity through Jimin's being, and his lips shock him with an energizing current that galvanizes his soul.

Parting his lips, Jimin flicks his tongue against Taehyung’s top lip. Taehyung always opens up to him without fail, being so obedient and giving. Jimin curls his fingers around the collar of Taehyung’s t-shirt and lets out a quiet moan when Taehyung gives again, following Jimin onto the bed with his hands pressed into the mattress above Jimin’s shoulders and his knees between Jimin’s legs.

It’s good, so good, having Taehyung close, but it’s never enough. Taehyung hovers above Jimin so that no part of his body touches him aside from their lips and the brush of their noses bumping into each other.

It isn’t that Jimin is frustrated. He loves Taehyung and greedily takes whatever he can get from him, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t crave more. It has been a year, and they still haven’t had sex or any physical intimacy beyond making out. Jimin hasn’t even seen Taehyung naked yet.

Hesitantly, Jimin bends his right leg and presses it against Taehyung's side. When Taehyung doesn't react, Jimin goes further by hooking his leg around Taehyung's waist. The pressure he applies to Taehyung's lower back is light enough for Taehyung to resist, but it's clear that Jimin wants to pull him in.

He wants so badly, so badly he needs it. He needs to feel Taehyung’s body on his, to feel Taehyung’s hips spread his legs and press into his thighs. He wants to feel, touch, and taste…

Taehyung’s hand is warm when he cups the back of Jimin’s thigh, bare skin on display from his athletic shorts riding up his legs. Slowly, he unhooks Jimin’s leg from his waist and lowers it onto the bed.

“Tae,” Jimin sighs as the familiar heaviness of disappointment settles on his chest where he wishes Taehyung’s weight could be instead.

Taehyung's smile is small but warm. He kneels between Jimin's legs with one hand still on Jimin's thigh, caressing his soft skin.

“We should order food. Your stomach is grumbling,” Taehyung says as he taps his fingers against Jimin’s thigh. 

Taehyung isn’t a liar, but Jimin never believes him whenever he pulls away like this. There’s always some excuse, something that comes up, something, something, something. Jimin and Taehyung get so close, and then something.

“Fried chicken?” Jimin asks, and he can’t suppress a smile when Taehyung’s eyes light up.

Jimin is Taehyung’s little moon, and Jimin knows that Taehyung is his little star, a smattering of twinkling constellations that remind Jimin that there’s more out there in the world than he can ever fathom.

It still hurts, though, when Taehyung pulls away. Taehyung's attention is drawn to his phone as he searches for their favorite restaurant to order delivery while Jimin flops back onto the bed.

Jimin is all too aware of the strain against the waistband of his shorts that will go unresolved until later when he's alone in the shower with his bottom lip crushed between his teeth and only one man on his mind.

“If I was a constellation, which one would I be?” Jimin asks one Sunday evening.

Jimin and Taehyung are in their living room, surrounded by cardboard boxes. Taehyung is on the couch with a box at his feet, while Jimin sits on the floor in the middle of the room. Taehyung stops mid-motion, his hands gripping the folds of the cardboard box as he opens it. With a furrowed brow, he looks up, his intense eyes meeting Jimin's across the room. His heavy gaze makes Jimin feel like Taehyung is delving into the depths of his soul, searching for the correct answer.

Jimin had assumed he was asking something silly, just a fun thought exercise to explore while they unpack the decorations they plan on putting up in the living room. It's been three months since they moved in, and their apartment is still cluttered with boxes and half-finished efforts to integrate Jimin's influence on Taehyung's space. Many of Jimin’s friends have said it could take a whole year before they finish unpacking. Jimin sincerely hopes that isn’t the case.

A few seconds pass before Taehyung returns to sorting through the canvases in his box and replies, “Cassiopeia.”

Why is Taehyung's extensive knowledge of outer space so attractive? Jimin can feel his face growing warm, and he's sure his cheeks have turned a rosy pink. It might be Taehyung's intellect or the authority with which he speaks. Or it's simply that Taehyung feels like he knows Jimin so well, and being understood feels good, even if Jimin has no idea what it means.

“Who is Cassiopeia?” Jimin clears his throat before asking, hoping his voice doesn't give away his flustered state.

“In Greek mythology, she was a queen who was chained to a throne in the sky by Poseidon for being vain after she claimed that either she or her daughter were more beautiful than the sea nymphs.” Taehyung’s lips quirk as he speaks, struggling to fight off a grin when Jimin releases an appalled gasp.

“Are you accusing me of being vain?”

Losing his battle, Taehyung flashes Jimin a lopsided grin as he stands from the couch. He selects one of the canvases from his box and picks up a hammer and nails from the coffee table.

“No, little moon,” Taehyung ruffles Jimin’s silky hair as he walks past him to the opposite side of the living room. “Inside Cassiopeia is the Heart Nebula, located 7,500 light-years from Earth. It's shaped like a heart and glows red because it’s filled with ionized hydrogen gas.”

Skeptically, Jimin reaches for his phone, which sits on the coffee table beside the little box of nails. Sometimes Taehyung is so intelligent about such random things that Jimin wonders if he’s actually bullshitting him.

A quick Google search proves that Taehyung is a genius and never a liar, and Jimin loses himself in a gallery of high-definition photographs of the Heart Nebula, glowing pink against a black galaxy speckled with other stars and space things Jimin doesn’t understand.

“It’s beautiful,” Jimin says, pointing to his phone to show Taehyung that he looked up the nebula online.

Standing at the far wall, Taehyung smiles over his shoulder. It only takes a few hits of the hammer on the nail to be the appropriate length to hang the first painting.

“You are my moon, but also my heart, Jiminie,” Taehyung says with a wink and a blown kiss that Jimin pretends to shoo away.

“Ahhh, why are you so corny!” Jimin only complains so he can act like Taehyung doesn’t render him breathless.

Taehyung shrugs and crosses the room to pick a new canvas from the box. Most of the paintings are ones that Taehyung created for Jimin as gifts, and a few are matching artworks they created together during painting date nights. Jimin had the paintings scattered across his old apartment. It’s nice to see them have a new home next to Taehyung’s other things, right where they belong.

“Thank you for putting these up,” Jimin says after Taehyung empties the box of paintings. They’ve nearly run out of space on the living room walls, but there are plenty more rooms for overflow if needed.

“Of course, heart,” Taehyung teases the new nickname. It’s cute despite being corny.

Jimin leans back on his palms, legs crossed, and stares up at Taehyung as he breaks down the cardboard box.

“What would I do without you?”

“Continue on living, silly.” Taehyung pretends to tap Jimin on top of the head with the flattened box.

“Would I?” Jimin asks as he stares up at Taehyung. He would be sparkly-eyed if it weren’t for his squinted eyes from how deeply he’s smiling. “Do you think I could handle hammering anything into the wall? Look at me.”

With the hand that isn’t holding the flattened box, Taehyung grabs Jimin’s bicep, which he puts on display to demonstrate that he doesn’t have the muscle for home improvement.

“You look adorable,” Taehyung says with a light squeeze of his arm as he helps Jimin stand up. They both know Taehyung is the brawns and the brains in his relationship, even if he’s occasionally a little strange. Jimin fell in love with his quirks.

“Am I adorable enough to nail into the wall, too?” Jimin asks sweetly.

Sometimes, Jimin worries that he’s being too pushy with Taehyung. It’s a tricky line to balance, being horny as fuck for the love of your life and wanting to be respectful, all while having no idea if intimacy will ever happen. Two normal adults would just talk about it, but Jimin fears Taehyung’s response if he asks outright.

“Do you want me, Tae?” sounds like a terrifying question because there is a 50/50 chance the answer will be “ No. ”

So, instead, Jimin does precisely what he shouldn’t and keeps trying without asking clarifying questions that could save both of them from discomfort and potential heartbreak.

“What do you mean?” Taehyung gives Jimin a boxy smile, head cocked to one side in playful confusion.

With soft laughter, Jimin takes the flattened cardboard box from Taehyung’s hands and tosses it onto the floor. Taehyung’s hands belong on his hips, fingers digging into the warm skin exposed by his sweatpants hanging low on Zhis hips.

“Oh, Taehyung-ah, you know. Nail me,” Jimin repeats gently, with an innocence that sharply contrasts how he uses Taehyung’s hands on his hips to pull them closer, closing the gap until he feels all of Taehyung’s body pressed against his.

Taehyung is firm with muscles but still soft in the spots that matter. It isn’t like Jimin never touches Taehyung; they hug often, and Taehyung likes to be the big spoon at night, but it isn’t the same as a moment like this when Jimin is so pent up with desire that he practically trembles with it.

Then there are those moments when Taehyung gives Jimin hope, like now, when his fingers flex against Jimin’s waist, tightening his grip. The response may be a reflex or a nervous fidget, or it might be that Taehyung wants Jimin. Is that so bad to want? To be wanted?

Jimin doesn’t think so, but sometimes he wonders.

“Nail you?”

“Against the wall.” Jimin leans into Taehyung, squeezing his biceps and lifting up on his toes to whisper in his ear. “You’re strong, babe. I think you could handle me.”

It’s cute how red Taehyung’s ears grow beneath his shaggy, mousy brown hair. There’s a slight flush to his tan cheeks, as well, something rosy and pretty, and Jimin realizes he’s not sure he’s ever seen Taehyung embarrassed before. Usually, he almost immediately backs out of intimacy with precision and finesse. Today, though, he stares at Jimin’s bitten lips and takes deep, shaky breaths.

“Tae,” Jimin murmurs as he brings his lips to the edge of Taehyung’s jaw. Each kiss along his jaw elicits another deep inhale until Taehyung’s breathing hitches and catches in his throat.

“Yes, moon?”

Sliding his hands up Taehyung’s biceps until he can wrap his arms around his shoulders, Jimin pulls Taehyung down slightly, just enough to speak against his lips in an almost kiss.

Taehyung’s eyes are squeezed shut, and his pretty lips are parted. His breathing isn’t quite a pant, but it’s breathy enough to make Jimin’s entire body erupt into goosebumps when he turns his face slightly, and Jimin feels his hot breath on the side of his neck.

“Kiss me, please,” Jimin’s lips brush Taehyung’s cheek, and he asks only half of the request that’s burning his chest, waiting to come out.

Jimin knows exactly what he wants to say but can’t bring himself to do it. It feels too monumental to ask for intimacy when the possibility of Taehyung getting spooked is so high.

Surprisingly, Taehyung doesn’t say another word. Keeping one hand on Jimin’s waist, Taehyung cups the back of Jimin’s head with his other hand, supporting him as he tilts to meet Taehyung’s lips. Like always, Taehyung gives when Jimin wants to take. He opens his mouth at the first nibble of his bottom lip, letting Jimin slip his tongue inside and meet him with the tip of his own. The kiss feels desperate and urgent, as though they’ve been starved of each other. Jimin supposes in a way they have, though he never thought Taehyung cared that their intimacy never went beyond a sensual kiss.

It’s easy to surrender to whatever this is. Jimin doesn’t care why Taehyung is rocking against him, letting Jimin shift so his thigh is between Taehyung’s legs. Maybe he’ll care later when they’re no longer panting into each other’s mouths, and Jimin doesn’t have his hands tangled in Taehyung’s hair. For now, Jimin has a one-track mind that he can’t shake, especially when he realizes something that makes him weak in the knees.

Taehyung is hard. Jimin can feel him through his loose pajama pants where Taehyung’s cock is pressed against Jimin’s thigh. He doesn’t dare look down at what he knows will be a prominent bulge partially masked by the checkered print of Taehyung’s pants.

Jimin would be a liar if he said he hadn’t thought about Taehyung's body, but now that Jimin feels Taehyung's cock pressed against his thigh, warm and thick, he realizes Taehyung is much more than Jimin expected.

Taehyung kisses him like he has been waiting for his whole life, and Jimin considers how possible that may be. They joke that they’re soulmates, but the more Jimin learns about Taehyung, the more he feels connected to him in a way he hasn’t felt with anyone else. It’s cliche, but anything Jimin feels deeply enough to make his heart ache is worth paying attention to.

But when Jimin’s hope for more than just a kiss reaches its peak, Taehyung pulls away.

“Your parents,” Taehyung pauses to clear his throat, “we need to get everything put together before they get here.”

Jimin opens his eyes only to narrow them immediately, eyebrows scrunched together and wrinkles lining his forehead.

“What?” he asks, out of breath. “They’re coming next week. We have plenty of time.”

Taehyung still holds Jimin’s waist, one thumb hooked around the waistband of his well-worn basketball shorts. It isn’t a sexual touch, just a way to keep Jimin close, but Jimin feels Taehyung’s presence against his skin like a hot iron brand.

“Time means very little, almost nothing at all,” Taehyung sounds exasperated, as though he can’t understand why Jimin is making this more complicated than it needs to be.

Except Taehyung is the one not making sense.

“Okay…” Jimin says blankly as Taehyung takes a step back.

Taehyung grabs the flattened cardboard box and a few other recyclables to dispose of, leaving Jimin alone in the living room with a tight smile.

Jimin should be accustomed to this behavior by now, but each time, Taehyung somehow manages to cut a new wound in him that hurts worse than the last. There was a time when Jimin thought he was invincible, that it was him and Taehyung against the world. These days, he feels like he’s on the outside, looking in. If Jimin is Cassiopeia, Taehyung is 7,500 light-years away on Earth, looking at stars that may not actually exist anymore.

Jimin thinks having his parents in his and Taehyung's apartment feels weird. Their apartment is a sacred space where they can escape the world's expectations and judgment. Inviting Jimin's parents into their space is unavoidable and frustrating. Jimin loves his parents, but they are difficult.

Especially his mother.

"So, Taehyung, remind me, what is it that you do for work?"

When Jimin's mother asks the question, Jimin flinches and nearly drops the shot glass in his hand. Luckily, the thick glass only thuds against the kitchen counter. Taehyung and Jimin's parents turn around to look at Jimin, but he waves them off and returns to making their beverages.

As a bartender, Jimin is always volunteered by others to make drinks at parties and family gatherings. Tonight is no different, with his parents visiting his and Taehyung's apartment for the first time and meeting Taehyung.

Jimin realizes they should have gone out to dinner rather than cook at home. It's nearly ten o'clock at night, and his parents are asking for a second drink, looking far too comfortable in their spots at the kitchen table while they hold Taehyung hostage in his own house. 

It would be impolite for Jimin to kick his parents out of his apartment, but he doesn't know if he can survive another four hours with them. At least Taehyung isn't sweating through his dress shirt like Jimin is.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung adjusts his posture in his chair and answers Mrs. Park's question.

"I'm an aerospace engineer for the Korea Aerospace Administration, eomeonim," he is polite, perhaps more than necessary.

"Is that so?"

Jimin stands with his back to the kitchen table, tending to their drinks. He has known his mother for nearly thirty years; he can sense the exact expression on her face merely from the tone of her voice. The familiar scrutinizing look causes her to furrow her brows and purse her lips as if she's caught a whiff of something unpleasant. The look itself doesn't necessarily mean anything. It's her thinking face; the thoughts could be good or bad. It's what she says when wearing the expression that matters.

"Yes, eomeonim," Taehyung responds almost cooly, but Jimin isn't entirely paying attention.

"Looking at this apartment, I wouldn't assume you have such a prestigious career. What is your salary?"

"Eomma!" Jimin nearly drops the three glasses of somaek he's delicately carrying to the table.

Taehyung immediately stands up to help, but Jimin hushes him until he sits down again.

"What? I was merely curious." Mrs. Park's eyes widen with feigned naivety. Only the subtle twitch at the corner of her lips betrays her poorly crafted ruse.

"The apartment is modest," Mr. Park finally speaks up once he has had a sip of his drink. "There is nothing wrong with that. I respect a man who lives within his means and doesn't flaunt his wealth. Or degree, for that matter."

Despite the positivity, Mr. Park's comment feels like a dig at Jimin, who dropped out of college after a year. Unfortunately, Jimin knows he tends to overthink his parents' words and intentions. It isn't much use, but he can't stop himself.

"Taehyung is incredibly intelligent, one of the smartest people I know. But he is very humble," Jimin says as he returns to his seat at the table.

Taehyung and Mrs. Park sit at each end of the small table, with Jimin and Mr. Park across from each other on the sides. When Taehyung doesn't respond to Jimin's compliment, Jimin turns to look at him and frowns at the sight of Taehyung drinking his somaek entirely too quickly.

"Clearly," Mrs. Park agrees, though Jimin doesn't understand what she means, "and what are your future plans, Taehyung? Do you want to remain in Seoul long-term? I assume you aren't from here, considering your satoori."

Jimin bites his bottom lip and avoids Taehyung's gaze, though he realizes Taehyung isn't looking at him anyway. His mother has always been invasive; Jimin supposes most parents are when meeting their child's significant other for the first time. It's just hard to watch, knowing that Taehyung is a very private person.

"I grew up in a small town outside of Daegu," Taehyung says with a smile that doesn't brighten his face the way it usually does. 

He doesn’t answer Mrs. Park’s other questions. 

Mr. Park grunts at Taehyung’s reply, going on a little tangent about a good friend of his from Daegu. Jimin doesn't pay attention, already knowing the friend his father is talking about. Instead, he watches Taehyung, who is unusually quiet and still. Jimin wants to blame Taehyung's standoffish attitude on nerves, but it feels like something more. Despite his polite language and concise answers to even the most probing questions, Taehyung comes across as apathetic, even cold. He isn’t making an effort to lighten the mood, even though Jimin already prepped him for what being around his parents would be like, particularly his mother. Before Jimin’s parents arrived, he and Taehyung had agreed to have each other’s backs and to stay positive. Now, Taehyung won’t even look at Jimin.

The confusing tension Jimin feels strumming between him and Taehyung – tension he isn't even sure Taehyung notices – snaps when Taehyung abruptly stands from the table after Mrs. Park asks him about his past love life.

"Please excuse me," Taehyung mumbles and avoids everyone's gaze as he rushes out of the kitchen without a second look.

With his nostrils flared, Jimin stares his mother down as they hear the bedroom door slam shut. 

“Eomma.” Jimin doesn’t say anything else. If he tries to articulate his thoughts, he may be the most disrespectful he has ever been to his mother. Even though she may deserve it, Jimin was raised too proper for that.

"All I asked was if he had been in a serious relationship before this," Mrs. Park sniffles and pats her cheeks with the corner of her napkin as if there are tears to be dried.

“Eomma,” Jimin repeats with frustration, “you shouldn’t ask someone a question like that.” 

The fake tears are quickly forgotten when Mrs. Park narrows her eyes at Jimin. “Jimin, I just want what's best for you, and I don’t feel confident that Taehyung is. He is not right.”

Jimin takes a deep breath as the room tilts. His mother continues talking and complaining, and his father chimes in to likely lessen the blow of his mother’s words, but everything sounds like Jimin is underwater. He doesn’t think he’s going to pass out, though he never has before. Everything is still in color. There’s no ringing in his ears or spots in his vision. He can’t breathe, though. It’s as if there’s a hole in him, a leak somewhere, and each breath is air that passes straight through his lungs without bringing him any sense of calm.

“Taehyung is just different,” Jimin whispers through the tightness in his chest. “Different isn’t bad. He just… he has a different way of thinking, eomma, and he’s shy. He was nervous to meet you.” 

Mrs. Park scoffs, “How am I supposed to accept him into this family when he can’t even be polite?”

What hurts the most is that there is truth to her words. Jimin thinks back to the tension between him and Taehyung the day before. It’s always the same: Jimin seeks a connection Taehyung won’t give him, and Jimin wonders if it means Taehyung doesn’t want him. Is that what everything comes down to? Is Jimin fighting for a partner who doesn’t even want him? 

“Different isn’t bad,” Jimin repeats as if saying it again might convince her. It sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself. 

Jimin’s parents leave by midnight. At some point, Taehyung returned from the bedroom, quietly apologizing. Only Mr. Park paid the apologies any mind. 

Jimin doesn't speak to Taehyung after his parents leave. Jimin goes through his routine in silence. He deliberately avoids looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he changes into his pajamas and washes and moisturizes his face. The sight of the frustration and self-doubt etched into the lines on his forehead and the deep creases that form around his mouth is too much to bear.

Ignoring Taehyung may seem unnecessarily cruel since the night wasn’t particularly great for either of them. The thing is, Taehyung ignores Jimin, too. Two wrongs don’t make a right, but Jimin doesn’t care. He’s tired of getting his feelings hurt and pretending it doesn’t matter. 

When Jimin and Taehyung first moved in together, Jimin felt like every night was a sleepover with his best friend. Now, Jimin just feels cold as he climbs into bed with Taehyung, who stares silently at the ceiling. 

“Goodnight, Tae,” Jimin mumbles as he reaches over to turn off the bedside lamp. 

If Taehyung responds, Jimin doesn’t hear him.

Jimin wakes up in the morning still pissed. Despite brushing his teeth the night before, he has a bad taste in his mouth, and a god-awful headache throbs in the middle of his forehead. Overall, it's a shitty way to start a Sunday morning.

When he gets out of bed, Jimin can hear the steady thump of music from down the hall. The sound is muffled by the closed door of their guest bedroom, which has recently been transformed into a workout room. Jimin rarely uses it, but when he does, he prefers peaceful yoga routines or guided meditation sessions from his favorite calming app. Taehyung utilizes the room far more often than Jimin and prefers more rigorous activities, such as weightlifting and cardio. 

Based on the beat of the music, it sounds like Taehyung is listening to a hip-hop playlist. Jimin knows that means he's doing cardio and probably woke up pissed off, too. Jimin hopes so; he doesn’t want to be the only one seething. He wants to slide down the hardwood floors of their hallway in his fuzzy socks pulled loose at the toes from being slept in, bust into the room with hell’s fury, and be met with Taehyung’s own fury, ready to combust with his. 

Instead, when Jimin flings the door open, he's greeted by Taehyung casually running on the treadmill as if nothing is wrong, as if the bullshit from the previous night never happened, as if meeting Jimin's parents and fucking everything up means nothing to him. It's as if he doesn't care at all.

Taehyung presses a few buttons on the treadmill, gradually slowing down to a leisurely walking pace. When he runs his fingers through his hair, Jimin is reminded that Taehyung is one of those insufferable people who seem to never sweat. For some reason, it makes Jimin even angrier.

"What is wrong with you?" Jimin raises his voice just enough to be heard over the music playing from the Bluetooth speaker.

Looking over his shoulder, Taehyung furrows his brows as his eyes scan Jimin, probably noticing his crumpled pajamas, unwashed face, disheveled bedhead, and arms folded tightly across his chest.

Taehyung hits the stop button on the treadmill. "What do you mean?"

"Obviously, there's something wrong, Taehyung,” Jimin scoffs and hates that he hears his mother in his own words. “It's either you or it's me. It's probably me. Am I really so repulsive to you? Do you really despise being with me to the point where you won’t touch me, won’t fuck me, barely even kiss me, can't even pretend to like my parents for just one night?" 

Taehyung steps off the treadmill but doesn’t move toward Jimin. They stare at each other from across the room, Jimin hovering in the doorway, Taehyung with one hand wrapped around the arm of the treadmill to steady himself. His face crumples as Jimin speaks, his frown melting into a pained expression Jimin has never seen on him before. 

"Little moon..." Taehyung starts, but Jimin interrupts him. 

"Don't call me that," Jimin snaps, blinking back unshed tears that burn the corners of his eyes. 

It isn’t fair how things have devolved so quickly. It has only been a few months of living together; Jimin thought being together would improve their relationship. He thought the insecurities and confusion would be resolved if they spent more time together. It doesn’t help that Taehyung’s hours at work are chaotic, and Jimin has revolving shifts at the restaurant bar he bartends at. It doesn’t help that Taehyung is so private, not letting Jimin around when he changes or showers. It doesn’t help that Taehyung has no family from which Jimin can learn and gain insight into Taehyung's life before meeting him.

Jimin thought they would be closer, but instead, he feels like he’s losing his mind. 

Taehyung’s expression softens, though he doesn’t look any less upset. It’s the most emotion Jimin has seen from him all weekend. 

"I don't hate being with you, Jimin."

Even though Jimin insisted that Taehyung call him by name, it still stings when he does. 

"So what is it then? You don't hate it; you just dislike it?" Jimin inhales sharply through his nose as he tries not to cry. "Do you even want me, Taehyung? Because I can't do this. I really can't."

Sighing, Taehyung lets go of the treadmill, reaching for his phone to turn off the music. Jimin thinks he will step toward him, but instead, Taehyung wraps his arms around his own torso. He embraces himself tightly as if holding himself together with his arms.

"You have no idea how much I want you," Taehyung says softly. The tender look in his eyes makes Jimin's heart crack even worse than it had when he watched pain twist Taehyung’s face. 

“Then what’s wrong?” Jimin quickly swipes his fingers across the apple of his cheek, gathering the few tears that have managed to escape. 

Taehyung's gaze darts to the floor. “I can’t tell you," he murmurs.

“Taehyung, I want to help you,” Jimin pleads. “I don’t understand what’s going on with you, but I want to help you, okay? Even if it’s me… if you don’t want me to be here, I’ll leave, okay? I just hate how… I just hate this.” 

It isn’t even about sex, not really. If Taehyung told Jimin right now that he never wanted to have sex, Jimin wouldn’t even care. He would hug him, tell him he loves him, and never bother him about it again. But not knowing why  Taehyung pulls away from Jimin and why he won’t even stick around to spend time with Jimin’s parents despite knowing how meaningful those relationships are to Jimin… 

All Jimin ever gets from Taehyung are evasive answers and forced smiles. It’s eating away at him. 

Taehyung lets his arms fall to his sides and gestures for Jimin to come closer. Jimin follows, drawn to Taehyung as always, their strings attached and stars aligned.

“Please don’t be upset with me,” Taehyung whispers. He keeps his eyes on the floor as he talks. “And please don’t be scared.” 

Scared? Jimin frowns so deeply that his head hurts, and it only worsens when Taehyung reaches over his shoulder to grab the back of his shirt and pull it over his head. 

“Why would I be scared of you, Tae?” 

Jimin watches Taehyung fold his t-shirt and hang it over the arm of the treadmill. The only thing scaring him is how strange Taehyung is behaving. 

Taehyung's eyes close for a moment as he takes a deep breath. Whatever he's about to reveal is causing him even more anxiety than the previous night's discomfort. Jimin can sense it; he can see how Taehyung holds his energy in his body, with slumped shoulders and a tight chest.

Rather than respond to Jimin’s question, Taehyung opens his eyes and stares into Jimin’s. He adjusts his posture to stand at his full height. Jimin watches the fear in his eyes and almost misses the movement behind him. 

“Jimin, I’m–” 

“What the f–” 

Jimin's breath catches in his throat as he stumbles backward, bumping into the sharp edge of the doorframe.

Two long tentacles emerge slowly from Taehyung’s back. They’re smooth with a slightly ridged underside and tapered, ending with a flexible, rounded tip. One wraps around Taehyung’s bicep while the other rests on Taehyung’s shoulder, the tip occasionally moving in a way that reminds Jimin of a cat curious about its surroundings. 

Jimin’s eyes flit from the tentacles to Taehyung’s face and the insecurity that etches wary lines in his expression. His heart quickens in his chest, fluttering and forcing his blood to rush into his ears. He hears nothing but his own heartbeat and sees nothing but tunnel vision that darkens everything around him aside from Taehyung with fucking tentacles. 

“What the fuck, Taehyung,” Jimin whispers, tilting his head back to rest against the wall. His legs are on the verge of giving out.

"I'm not from Daegu..." Taehyung admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I can fucking see that!"

Jimin's voice is high-pitched and followed by shaky laughter. Taehyung cringes. The tentacle wrapped around his bicep quickly shrinks back, retracting until only one tentacle is left. Jimin has the strange feeling that the tentacle is looking at him. 

"The Korea Aerospace Administration discovered my planet three years ago," Taehyung speaks slowly, never taking his eyes off Jimin's. “In exchange for a peace treaty, a group of scientists came to Earth to be studied.” 

A flicker of pain scrunches Taehyung’s expression, tightening his brow. He lets go of it quickly, but Jimin sees it and understands. Taehyung doesn’t need to explain further; what has happened is clear. Nothing good can possibly come out of being handed over to the government to be studied. Jimin can only imagine what experiments were forced upon these unknown people. Aliens. 

Taehyung is a fucking alien. 

Jimin opens his mouth, but he finds he can’t speak. He can hardly even exhale. His throat feels dry and stuck like it’s closed off. 

“I’m so sorry…” Taehyung breaks eye contact once more as the tips of his ears turn pink. 

The remaining tentacle touches the side of Taehyung’s face, just along the edge of his cheekbone, before pulling away to curl around his forearm. It looks like it’s… comforting him.

“I don’t know what to say,” Jimin confesses, his voice trembling.

Taehyung responds with a forced smile aimed at the floor. 

“I won’t blame you for thinking I’m a monster. I am, at least, on Earth. At home, I’m just a regular guy,” Taehyung says with a dark chuckle. “I have a mother who complains that I haven’t given her offspring yet. My father is a scientist, too. I grew up wanting to be like him.” Taehyung looks up at Jimin again, this time with wide, pleading eyes. “My little sister is still in school. We have school, just like here. She wants to be a teacher of human studies. She finds all of you fascinating.” 

Tears slip down Jimin’s ruddy cheeks, trailing along his cheekbone to travel his jawline. He doesn’t wipe them away; more will come. 

Taehyung has a family. He went to school and became a scientist. He risked his life for the good of his people and ended up here just to argue with his boyfriend about secrets and intimacy. 

Everything strange that Taehyung has ever done flits through Jimin’s mind like rolling credits, one moment after another, clearly laid out. His behavior at dinner with Jimin’s parents, his knowledge of space, his quirky little jokes Jimin rarely understands, and the pet names he gives Jimin, his job as an aerospace engineer. 

“Do you actually go to work?” Jimin chokes out. 

For some reason, Taehyung laughs. His reaction makes Jimin's face burn with embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says once he has calmed down his anxious giggling. “I just… That wasn’t what I expected to be your first question after finding out you’re dating a monster.” 

Jimin frowns. "Are you going to eat me?"

"Why would you think that?"

"I don't know. You keep calling yourself a monster."

Taehyung laughs again, and this time, the joy reaches his eyes. "Little moon, I'm not going to eat you," he says, tentatively stepping closer. "I'm in love with you."

Taehyung has said it a million times, but hearing his love confession always makes Jimin’s stomach flutter. 

"Why didn’t you tell me?" 

Jimin peers over Taehyung's shoulder at the tentacles extended from his back. Since their conversation calmed down, two more tentacles have emerged, all of them peeking around Taehyung's body as if they're cautiously watching Jimin.

"I never told you because I didn't know how. I'd been on Earth for barely a year when I encountered the most captivating creature I've ever seen," Taehyung says, looking at Jimin with a soft smile. "Was I supposed to walk up to you and say, 'Hi, I'm Taehyung, the alien! My tentacles and I would love to get to know you!'?"

Jimin struggles to look Taehyung in the eyes. 

“You could have said that,” he mumbles as he watches two of Taehyung’s tentacles bat at each other.

Taehyung snorts. “I could not have.” The playful tentacles seem to annoy Taehyung because he swats at them, and they shrink back slightly, separating themselves so one is on either of his shoulders. “Aliens aren’t real.” 

The statement sounds silly coming from a man with tentacles, but Jimin thinks he understands. If their roles were reversed, Jimin doesn’t think he would ever share his secret with Taehyung. 

“Well,” Jimin takes slow steps until he meets Taehyung in the middle of the room, “I’m not afraid of you. And I don’t think you’re a monster.” 

Up close, Jimin can see that Taehyung has been crying, too. His eyes are red and puffy, and his cheeks are tear-stained. He’s still gorgeous, though, a pretty crier. He could be nothing else in Jimin’s eyes. Tentacles and all. 

“Thank you,” Taehyung reaches for Jimin’s hands and grins with Jimin, offering both for Taehyung to hold. 

Jimin keeps waiting for something to happen, something horrible that will have him packing his bags and getting the fuck out of there. But it's the same two hands holding his, with the same rough calluses from lifting weights and the same warm skin that always bring Jimin comfort. Taehyung is still the same, with soft brown eyes that stare into Jimin's with the intensity of the desire to know and understand. Taehyung is just Taehyung. 

“You don’t need to hide them. They’re cool,” Jimin says, smiling when Taehyung laughs again. He could listen to those giggles for the rest of his life – plans to, actually. 

One of Taehyung’s tentacles sneaks out further, hovering near Jimin’s forearm. It doesn’t touch him, but something about how it moves makes Jimin think it wants to. 

“Are they sentient?” Jimin asks, looking back and forth between the tentacles and Taehyung. 

Taehyung furrows his eyebrows, deep in thought.

"It's hard to put into words for a human to understand... It's like my tentacles are an extension of myself. I can control them, but sometimes, they act on my emotions and instincts without me telling them to. Sort of like your subconscious. They have their own little personalities, but I think it’s because each one is a concentrated piece of my personality. When I let them free, they know what my mind and heart want without me having to tell them. Does that make sense?"

It doesn’t, but Jimin nods anyway.

“I guess the most important thing to understand is that they’re a part of me, and they won’t harm you,” Taehyung’s tone is gentle but firm. "My people, we use them to communicate and understand each other's emotions." He squeezes Jimin’s hands when he talks, drawing Jimin’s eyes up to his. “Okay, moon?”

“Yes,” Jimin nods again, “I never assumed you would hurt me, Tae.” 

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Taehyung raises his eyebrows as he takes one of Jimin’s hands and directs it toward the tentacle still hovering near his arm. 

"What?" Jimin squawks, but he doesn't stop Taehyung from guiding his hand.

The tentacle first pokes at Jimin’s outstretched fingers. After testing the waters, it slides against Jimin’s palm, though he doesn’t dare try to grab it. As the tentacle glides along the inside of his wrist, Jimin feels the line of tiny bumps on the underside that send tingles through his skin. 

“They’re really soft,” Jimin notes in surprise. He shivers as the tentacle climbs his arm and slips underneath his t-shirt sleeve.

"You're the first human to touch them who’s not doing it to study them," Taehyung admits shyly.

It’s shocking how quickly anger creeps up Jimin's neck and flushes his face. Just the thought of someone poking and prodding Taehyung makes him feel sick to his stomach. 

“It’s okay, little moon.” Taehyung reaches up with his hand to run his fingers through Jimin’s hair. “I’m okay now. I don’t have to go through that any longer.” 

“Okay.” 

Jimin doesn’t see the point in bothering Taehyung about it. Maybe one day he’ll ask, but today has been a considerable step for Taehyung. Jimin doesn’t want to push him even further than he already has. There’s just one more question he’ll allow himself to ask. It seems within the boundaries of what has already been uncovered. Still, Jimin has to take a deep breath to dispel his nerves.

"Can I see the rest of you?"

Taehyung finally breaks out into a full smile, all crooked and boxy. 

"This is all of me," Taehyung says with a laugh. "What more did you expect? Antennae? Green skin?"

"Leave me alone!" Jimin swats at Taehyung, embarrassed by his own curiosity. It’s the damn movies! Jimin doesn’t even like watching alien movies. 

"My people aren't too different from yours," Taehyung says with a knowing smile.

Maybe for some humans, learning that one’s boyfriend is an alien would be devastating. For Jimin, as he opens his arms to wrap around Taehyung, careful not to crush his tentacles, learning this vital information about his boyfriend only helps him understand Taehyung even more. Gone are his concerns about being enough or Taehyung’s happiness. Knowing the secret of who Taehyung is is a gift. It’s a guarantee that Jimin will be able to care for Taehyung better and nurture their relationship with a better understanding of what Taehyung needs.

And right now, Jimin knows that Taehyung needs reassurance — something Jimin is more than eager to provide him with.

“I love you so much, my pretty moon,” Taehyung murmurs into Jimin’s silky hair. He cups the back of Jimin’s head, keeping him close as if he thinks Jimin might pull away.

“I love you, too. Always.”

Always is a bold statement, and Jimin means it with all his heart.

♡ series masterlist ♡

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[yutaspierced]

So I was rewatching the Eddie Gets Shot episodes (like one does late at night while catching up on admin) and ALSO thinking about Tommy’s comment that the 118 should have their own hospital wing, when my thoughts spiraled.

What if Tommy was on shift when the 133 called in Eddie getting shot? It was probably on an open emergency line, right? They identified him as “firefighter Eddie Diaz of the 118” over the radio on the way to the hospital. Hearing repeated and increasingly frantic “shots fired” and “firefighter needs help” over and over with gunshots in the background over the radio has to stick with a guy, you know? Plus, Eddie and the other firefighter who got shot were kinda infamous in LA first responder circles after that.

So when Chim introduces Buck and Eddie to Tommy before they fly off with Hen to rescue the cruise ship, that radio call echoes in his head so loud he can barely hear anything else. Oh. Eddie. Eddie Diaz of the 118.

Then he’s getting to know Eddie and hang out with Eddie and like Eddie. Of course he’d never ask, just like he’d never ask Eddie how he got his silver star. You don’t casually ask a guy to relive that kind of trauma. But it sits heavy in the back of his mind. This great guy he’s starting to be really good friends with was the firefighter that needed help.

And then he gets to hear Eddie talk about Evan and Christopher talk about Evan and he starts to truly understand the depth of Eddie and Evan’s connection.

Then he gets to spend more time with Evan and hear Evan talk about Eddie and that call over the radio rings through his mind again, because Evan. Dear god, if this is how closely these two are intertwined, what that day must have been like for Evan.

And then I got to thinking about Bobby radioing in a, “Mayday Mayday Mayday, this is Captain Nash of 118, we have a firefighter down …” and that probably made Buck a little infamous too but what if Tommy was also on shift for that and it doesn’t really hit him until the first time he sees Evan’s scar and everything clicks into place. That firefighter that got hit by lightening at the 118 was Evan and fuck that day must have been hell for Eddie.

But Tommy’s been over at Harbor for five years, right? So he might also remember the firefighter from 118 who got caught under that ladder truck because it was all over the news for a week. But it’s been a long time and the firefighter’s name kinda fell out of his head. He knows it was someone at the 118, but not anyone he’s familiar with. But Buck showed up to that first basketball game with compression sleeves and a brace on one of his legs and he made an offhand comment about an old leg injury acting up because of the rain the other night and fuck that was Evan too.

Basically, what I’m getting at and what I wanna ponder more is Tommy and these two inseparable, gorgeous, strong men he’s suddenly got in his life. And Evan, who he’s probably starting to love a little bit even though he’s wayyyyy too old to believe in silly things like that only a few months in. And Eddie. Eddie, who Evan would die for and Tommy who doesn’t have their history but might not hesitate to either. And how much pain they both have stored up in their bodies. How many times the world has tried to take them and probably will try to take them again and again. How radio sqwauks are a little more emotional for Tommy than they’ve ever, ever been in either the LAFD or the army.

Anyway this is what I’m gonna be chewing on.

[dullgecko]

>>my bad kids overstimulation hcs<<

gorgug and adaine both get extremely scared when there's a loud noise. they will scream if they're caught off guard.

Fig needs COMPLETE QUIET in order to focus on her work (which is why she's failing since she refuses to stop listening to music for anything)

Fabian almost never gets overstimulated, so when he does the floodgates open and it's ALL THE EMOTIONS

all of the bad kids HATE talking to strangers. They've gotten better at it through their quests but when they're tired they still revert back to their default settings. (fabian, gorgug and kristen don't HATE it, but still don't like it) but they all deal with it in different ways

Adaine just freezes and goes semiverbal. Mostly nods and headshakes, Kristen covers for her by excessively talking and saying things she... maybe doesn't mean.

Fig gets REALLY aggressive and just starts thinking of MURDER. If she's silent, she's thinking about murder

Kristen wasn't really allowed to stim in their house because their parents would accuse her of faking mental illness (or insinuate Helio could heal them) so now (especially when they're overwhelmed) Kristen cannot stop stimming.

Every. Single. One of them has PTSD to some degree or another. Comes with the territory of being an adventurer and having to deal with some really fucked up stuff on the regular.

Adaines dad used to slam his hands on tables or slam doors shut when he was mad. It always triggered a panic attack instantly and he would berate Adaine and make it worse before storming off and leaving her to suffer alone.

Loud noises in Gorgugs house always meant that something had gone wrong in his parents workshop. He was in the room once when something exploded and his dad got pretty badly burned. Digby was healed up almost instantly but it's a pretty formative memory for Gorgug and he still doesnt like loud noises all that much.

Fig needs quiet to zone in but feels anxious without background noise so listens to music anyway. If she didnt have music playing in her room when her horns first started showing she could hear her parents arguing downstairs so the music was mostly to drown them out. She finds it easier to focus if she's listening to something quiet without lyrics so her 'do work now' playlist is all instrumental.

Fabian can get overstimulated by tight clothing or being restrained. Reminds him too much of falling in Leviathan and getting tangled up in all the washing lines. Especially doesnt like things tight around his throat because of how close a couple of them were to choking him. Tried to wear a turtleneck when it was cold once, lasted about two hours before he took a pair of scissors to the neckline of the sweater in a panic to get it away from his throat.

They try to keep their interactions with strangers to a minimum if possible. If they're specifically there to ask questions and get answers it's Rizs job (with a couple bardics thrown in to cover for his terrible charisma score) because he can do an interogation better than anyone else. Plus he's good at telling when people are lying to him. Otherwise it's Fabian and Fig who are the ones in charge of talking (though they tend to get very off topic if not given a specific goal).

They gave Kristen one of those spinny rings to wear when they noticed she would pick at her skin when overwhelmed. It gives her hands something to do so she doesnt hurt herself.

[xruiiii-blog]

Hi I’m literally obsessed with this au

I have a couple questions I’m so sorry if I’m bothering you but I’ve been analyzing this comic for way too long

Who is leading mountain to be killed? Who is getting crowned? Why is mountain being killed? Are the rest of the knights/other portraits other ghouls? Who is helping phantom unbury him? Is phantom unveiling him at the end?

I’m so sorry I’m obsessed, your art is amazing and thank you for your time

Thanks for the time and energy you invested into this!!! Wow! I might disappoint you after this haha. But u know! Always analyze and believe in whatever you think it’s the best explanation! I love when ppl have their own understanding of a piece :) that’s why there’s no dialogue

Anyway about the comic…

It supposed to be a simple “once upon a time” kinda thing. A bedtime tell, someone’s small piece of memory, a casual story that’s melancholy. Nobody’s really important, except the little prince and his knight. There’s no deeper meaning other than the lonely prince lost the only person he cares about to a war.

Something about the titan knights is that they don’t care about their identity. Their powers and skills are the things that matters. That’s their identity instead of who that person is under that mask. They are weapons and they like to keep it that way. Meaning that if any one of them dies during the war, a weapon has served its purpose. The others will move on and there’s no sorrow. I don’t want to talk too much about different species lore here it’s a lot…maybe next time :)

However, the two anonymous knights are rather closer to Mountain and Phantom than everyone else. They are also more human-like. They are more sentimental than some others on the team. It’s not anyone’s fault that the titans are this way btw, it’s just how things is. These two knights care about phantom more than the others does spiritually, they kinda understand how close their captain was to the prince and what Mountain meant to him. So they take him to Mount. Usually titans don’t even take the dead body back with them. It’s not like they don’t care, they do, but to them dead body it’s meaningless. No longer serve any purpose. Titans don’t ever grieve, mourn, or anything.

Phantom does. Be glad that he’s even able to contact with the corpse one last time cuz a lot of times soldier’s grave is just an empty tomb. That’s also why he digs. He needs to see it himself in order to let go. He places the veil back to place and sees what he’s familiar with for his whole life. The mere illusion that Mount is still with him.

…

Honestly this whole thing came to me at 2am and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I feel like its more of a vibe, very vague story and fear of death I didn’t executed it the way I wish I could (skill issue…) anyway my first actual try at drawing comics and it took me 2 miserable weeks(it was okay). I shared this before I have concentrate issue my attention span is short💀…ngl the process it’s challenging and I wasn’t expecting ppl to understand what’s happening or even read it. I didn’t expect myself to finish the whole thing even lol. Glad you like it and look at it with these much appreciation AND letting me know!!! :)) that’s what I was tryna say. 🖤🖤🫶🫶🫶

[autisticlalna]

don’t have the braincells to do anything with this, so i figure i could just throw this out there for, like. the five people who’d know what this is.

anyway: sbk shadow people au 👀?

YOU HAVE GIVEN ME INFINITE POWER

a quick recap of what Shadow People AU is: alternate universe where 1.15, on top of everythin else it Actually added, included a poorly-documented new mechanic where you could summon a black-and-yellow shadow copy of yourself. if you killed your shadow you would get a copy of everything you had in your inventory when you summoned it, but it would also be stronger with each death. if a shadow dies enough times, they can evolve to the point of being able to strategize, to build, and to communicate. oops! theyre self-aware!

there's a lot more to it than that, but ill explain as we go. because my favorite thing to do ever is apply this concept to different mcyt series and explore what might happen, and ive been toying with makin a variant for sbk. SO LETS GOOOOOOO

Viking would use his shadow to dupe materials and as an extra hand when buildin farms, so his shadow would develop to be more work-focused i think. zeroes in hard on a task and will not give up until its done. leave him alone he's got Shit To Do. either Viking gives him a cool mythology name, he continues the season nicknamin scheme to match Summertime, or Avid calls him somethin dumb and it sticks.

Vintage gets Antique. bottom text. i can actually just point at Antique as-is and go "yeah that's her shadow" LMAO. recolor the colored bits yellow and give her her eyes back and Antique is good to go. fun fact: the only* thing that can kill a shadow is their summoner or another shadow. run.

(* theres more than that but this post is already pretty long. spau is Big.)

Ruby is probably where we first run into the idea of "entity corruption", because god knows whats going on with Cherruby. basically if you've gotten corrupted by an entity in any way (eg Scar and Cub havin Vex magic, Watcher Grian, Karl Jacobs gettin put in the time travel blender), that bleeds over to your shadow and can cause... problems. i have a lot of thoughts about how this applies to TSMP specifically, but im squintin at Cherruby going what is your deal because there is SOMETHING messin with zhem and whatever it is is gonna mess with xis shadow too.

Avid would not risk havin a shadow. the most obvious reason is bc his shadow would be Super corrupted bc of basically everythin that happened in Nightmares, but the actual reason is that it would look like Avoid and that would freak Avid out too much :,D

rose suggested Marmalade would have the Old Shadows and OOGHGHHHHH FUCK . that goes hard. basically there's an associated dimension called the Shadowlands, and you can royally screw up your shadow's data by goin there before theyve finished forming for the first time. the outcome is a maxed-out shadow with a god complex that is capable of whatever you think its capable of. Marm might've drawn a connection between the Shadowlands and the Void, tried to use it as another way to get down to the Limbo border when the Void wasn't lettin her in, and instead got the Abyss equivalent. probably just named Void because of initially assuming theyre an extension of the Void itself.

Trog would be the runner-up for the Old Shadows, i think, but also they probably thought about it and went "nah" and forgot to warn anyone else that thats a thing. continues the trend with my Trog hcs of lookin perfectly normal and Not Being Normal At All. not entity corruption, just, like. corruption corruption. somethin broke here.

wait lmao i just realized something really funny and its that Fool's shadow would literally just look like him but all shadow-y. bc Fool already normally has the yellow/gold cracks. solar probably will have more ideas on what to do with this guy but i am proudly announcing that it is now Two Of Them Thursday

i cant decide if Leon's shadow shows signs of ender-ification before he does, or if he stays Completely Normal while Leon mutates. the latter is probably more interestin bc shadows gettin messed with is a pretty common trait in the au so havin a situation of "the shadow is normal while their summoner gets more and more fucked up" is fun. also: shitpost incarnate. this penguin cannot be stopped by any mortal means

i dont know how the tube thing would affect the shadows, is the fun part. like, "mechanically" the way the shadows work is they're tied to playerdata, so the likely idea is that Cloneby would have Cherruby's shadow. that's fun and fucked up!

fun side note: shadows are ground bound. they can do the kingdom hearts heartless thing of going flat to travel up surfaces and fit through spaces but they cannot jump over gaps. skyblock is maybe the worst experience for a shadow ever LMAO

[v-h-lupin]

Maurauders Era Characters if they were Demigods (with explanations)

ive been listening to Epic and rereadng my harry potter writing (really trying to work on my fanfic, im just stretched kinda thin)

anyway

this is pt. 1 because I will be doing more, and golden trio era characters too

Remus Lupin:

This boy is the most Son of Athena kid i have ever seen in my entire life look at him He is so smart in so many different ways I just he's so quick witted and brave, and he was so ready to throw himself into battle. strategizing to use his unique attributes even when his superiors (who had political leanings) told him otherwise. But his intellect doesn't mean he has a lack of empathy he's also really crafty but not in the "hot gluing pieces of felt in the basement" type of crafty he's just got such a good mind

James Potter:

Ok ok so hear me out Hermes. Hermes Hermes Hermes. Hermes is the god of so many things-- Jack of all trades, really, and James is just so damn good at everything he does. He's also incredibly fast on a broom. He makes friends wherever he goes (pretty fitting if your father is the god of travellers) and is mischevious without dipping into the villain area (most of the time).

Sirius Black:

Aphrodite. Hands down. Did not have to think when I said this. Everyone at school is fully aware that he is attractive and he can charm almost anyone. he is very charismatic. He can speak French and I BELIEVE Italian... ok it just... makes sense to me... (btw regulus will be in pt. 2)

Peter Pettigrew:

Also Hermes. Let me explain-- Beyond the fact that it would justify him feeling closer to James, we can use the other side of the Hermes coin for this. Hermes is the god of pretty much anything you encounter on the road. Hermes is not evil or anything-- but he does technically protect thieves and liars. Peter and James have parallels that make me believe both of them would be sons of Hermes, but their hearts were different.

Lily Evans:

This one was hard. I was thinking Demeter- then Apollo- then Athena- Hestia isnt an option but like, it might fit if it was-- I'm gonna say Athena because while YES, she does learn healing magic, she's also just incredibly bright in general. She and Remus are both brainchildren ok She's also very witty in her comebacks and stubborn-- im referring to her behavior in general, not just when it comes to james. For example, even though Petunia hated her, she still was so determined to have a good relationship with her sister.

Mary MacDonald:

OO, oo, i want to say Aphrodite, but then I remember that sirius is aphrodite and that would be WEIRD but if sirius was anyone elses kid, mary would be an aphrodite kid, i just, like? look at her. she celebrates her femininity, she's so confident in herself, i love her

other than aphrodite, I might say... Hebe. Seems like a deep reach, but she's the goddess of youth.

Marlene McKinnon:

APOLLO. Apollo. Apollo. Marlene has always wanted to be a healer. She's also a great flyer. I don't know what else to say about it but like- Apollo? yes, yes