#don't come for me but Beyond is just kind of mid for me??

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

37 Minutes [pre-outbreak!Joel x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/f!reader

Tags/warnings: Cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, (kind of) forced orgasm, squirting, PiV sex.

Summary: You wake up one morning needing Joel, and he comes as soon as you let him know that. And while his life may be busy, he takes the time to thoroughly satisfy you.

Words: 2,092

A/N: This is inspired by this post by @swiftispunk. It came across my dash around Easter and it's been living rent-free in my head since then. Finally had time to write it. Enjoy!

It’s just one of those mornings when you wake up with that itch that your own hand or your box of toys can’t do anything about.

Getting out of bed and pulling on a t-shirt, you grab your phone and go out to the kitchen to put the coffee on. You send Joel a text, short and to the point: Got time?

He calls you immediately. You smile as you press the green receiver.

”That was fast.”

”You read my mind,” he tells you in a muffled voice. ”I woke up thinking about you.”

”Then come over. And you could’ve texted me that.”

”Texting takes twice as long, I ain’t got time. See you in fifteen.”

You barely get to finish your coffee before you hear Joel’s truck on your driveway, and you’re not even by the front door when he knocks on it. As soon as you open the door, he’s through it, arms around your waist, lips on yours. He’s in a hurry, you can tell, but you love these hurried meetings, if only because he wants you so much. You love being wanted this much, this hard, this desperately.

He tastes of coffee, same as you, and a little sweat on his upper lip. It’s early, but the temperature is already in the mid-eighties. Your AC is keeping your home nice and cool, though.

You shove the door close and wrap your arms around Joel's neck, kissing him back and groaning when his hands slide down to your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pushes you up against him. He is already stiff, and you wonder if he’s been so during his entire drive here.

"Don't have long," he lets you know between the kisses. "Gotta get to a building site across town in an hour, and - "

"Then make it count," you cut him off, and Joel reacts immediately, grabbing the hem of your t-shirt, and pulling the garment off of you. He presses his lips on yours again, hands on your tits as he walks you backwards to the bedroom. The kiss breaks only for as long as it takes him to get rid of his own clothes before he pushes you down on the bed. He immediately kneels before you and pulls down your panties before leaning in to kiss your cunt. You sigh out the first little hint of pleasure, but that sigh turns into a moan as Joel wastes no time teasing you. His tongue, quick and agile, starts to work your clit.

“Joel…!” you keen, legs opening wide to give him better access between your thick thighs. He’s sloppy and loud, but not aimless in his endeavor. His hands travel up your thighs to your belly, then to your breasts, where he rolls your nipples between forefingers and thumbs. You buck against him, keening to encourage him to go on, take hold of his hands and push them against your tits to make him grab them. He hums against your clit, looking up and grinning at your enthusiasm. How he can smile and have his tongue do that to you at the same time is beyond you, but you do not dwell on it as Joel puts it into a higher gear. Tongue on your clit, he pushes you quickly towards your peak, and when the pleasure turns more intense, you start to grind against him, your fingers plaiting with his and holding on, head thrown back to your Yes, yes, yesyesyes! until his tongue takes you over the edge. Your legs twitch as you try to catch your breath, but Joel doesn’t give you much of a respite.

“’nother one, beautiful,” he murmurs, licking his lips and letting go of your hands. “You taste so fuckin’ good.”

He attacks your clit again, licking, pushing, and prodding. Your hips buck up but are immediately locked down to the mattress by one of his strong arms placed across your lower abdomen. Your pussy clenches when you feel his fingertips at your opening. The second after, he slides two fingers inside you, his tongue and lips still on your clit as he finds that magical spot on your front wall. You shout out, back arching off the mattress, hands digging into the sheets as he massages that spot.

“God, Joel, oh God, don’t stop, fuckfuckfuck!”

He’s breathing heavily against your folds, but his tongue doesn’t stop, and his fingers are insisting on drawing a second orgasm from you. It’s almost too much, but you woke up wanting him, needing him, so you let your mind go blank and surrender, your moans turning more and more breathless the further you go. When you come, there is no sound, only a momentary stiffness in your entire body before you fall apart. You’re trembling all over, but Joel still goes on licking you. Your clit is on fire, your pussy is clenching, but goddamn him, he doesn’t stop.

“Joel,” you cry out, “stop, I can’t, I need a rest!”

“One more,” he tells you gasps, letting your clit be for just a moment. “I know you can, baby, be good for me now, gimme one more.”

You shake your head and press your thighs together, trying to crawl away, but Joel exhales sharply and grabs your waist.

“Just stay where you are, sweetheart, it’ll be over soon.”

He pries open your legs again, and this time he plants his mouth on your clit, and sucks. Your upper back shoots up from the bed but Joel already has his arms around your thighs, holding them open, locking his head firmly between them. The pleasure is almost painful in its intensity, shooting through your entire body, and you’re desperately trying to hold onto his head, the sheets, yourself, anything to relieve the force with which he’s sucking your overstimulated clit. But Joel doesn’t budge, and when you start to kick, he gets up onto the bed and lifts your lower body up into the air. Never once does his lips leave your clit, and you feel his scorching, labored breath on you, but nothing else suggests that he’s having any trouble lifting half of your heavy body off the bed. You kick, and he growls, finally letting go, but only to grab he backs of your thighs and bend you double. Your swollen pussy is obscenely on display, and you don’t get to ask him to wait before he slots his lips over your clit again.

You’re helplessly trapped, bent double and held in place by Joel’s strong builder’s hands, moaning and cursing until the pressure becomes too much. You hear a splash, Joel who hums and slurps, and you laugh without knowing why. Warm liquid is running down between your ass cheeks, and Joel latches back onto your clit, this time gulping the wet before getting a hold.

The third orgasm finally tears through you, and Joel releases you to tremble before him. You want to close your legs, but your hamstrings are so intensely stretched that you have to roll over onto your side to press your thighs together. Your clit is throbbing painfully, the skin around your pussy is grated raw by Joel’s facial hair, but he’s already nudging you to return onto your back.

“You did great, darlin’,” he praises you thickly, his tongue stiff after its service. “Just lemme grab a rubber, and I’ll fuck you good, okay?”

You whimper in return and blink your eyes open. Joel’s face, blurry at the edges, is somewhere above you, smiling at you before disappearing out of sight. You can dimly see the ceiling fan rotations, but truth is you can barely see at all, so you rub at your eyes before drawing your fingers through your hair.

Joel returns next to you, and you dimly hear the rustle of the condom wrapper. He takes his place between your legs, opening them gently.

“Be a good girl for me, or I’ll eat you out again,” he asks you sweetly, and you know you won’t survive that, so you let your knees fall to the sides, even if your hips are getting tense.

He slides into you slowly but surely, one inch after the other until he’s fully sheathed. Bending over to kiss you, his tongue slow now, he gives you a moment to adjust before he straightens his back, takes you by the waist, and starts to pump into you. It’s fast and shallow, and he gets breathless quickly, huffing out each quick breath before sucking in new air in time with his thrusts. You don’t even know if you’re breathing at all anymore, but you’re catching up with him now, and raise your hips slightly to meet his thrusts. He growls and comes down onto his forearms, getting in deeper. You embrace him, pull him down and into you, guide his head right next to yours where he hides his face in your neck as you pant your encouragement into his ear. You kiss, bite, and suck his neck, scratch your nails down his back, and slap his ass.

“Harder, Joel, harder, I need it harder!”

He snarls, his head snaps up from your neck as he gulps air into his lungs. His arms curl around your head as he picks up the pace. His cock is so deep, so hard, filling your pussy to the brink of annihilation it seems, and he doesn’t stop, he just goes on and on fucking you, his body slick with sweat that rubs off on you, his breaths growing increasingly audible for each thrust.

“Fuck!” he finally grunts before pulling out. “Roll over, baby.”

You obey, getting on all fours, and are immediately shoved down onto your chest as he slams into you. Hands on your hips, he goes hard and fast, groaning now as he breaths, one hand scrambling for a grip on your lower back without finding. His cock keeps assaulting your pussy, you are in heaven, and you still keep asking him to go harder. He pushes you down, hands pressing into your lower back as he goes on fucking you, reaching impossibly deeper each time, until you’re screaming and have to muffle yourself by pushing your face down into the sheets. Joel swears, his hips start to move erratically, and then he drives himself deep inside and stays there as he roars, pushing even deeper.

He slumps down next to you, panting like after a marathon. You turn your head to better breathe, but you can’t turn move your legs. Joel lies next to you, eyes closed, mouth open as he draws shallow breath after shallow breath, skin glistening with sweat. You want to say something but have to lick your lips several times before you can form words.

“Fuck, but you’re good.”

He blinks, and slowly turns his head towards you.

“What?”

“You’re so fucking good at this.”

“Am I?”

His cluelessness is adorable.

“Yes, you are, Joel!”

“I don’t know…” He makes a move that resembles a shrug. “I just enjoy you.”

Like this is just any ordinary fuck. You smile widely, a new kind of warmth spreading inside you. Joel just is that kind of humble person.

He now draws a deep breath, sighs it out, and then sits up. He leans over you to kiss your back, shoulder, neck, and finally mouth.

“I gotta go.”

“Sure.”

He leaves the bed, throwing a glance at the bedside clock radio.

“37 minutes. That’s a new record.”

“Jesus Christ.”

You hear the rustle of clothes and manage to roll over onto your back. Everything hurts so good, and you’re grateful you don’t have work today.

Joel sighs. “You look so fucking pretty, baby.”

You hum, smiling at him. As he picks up his t-shirt, you remember something. 

”Put it on the right way.”

“Huh?”

“You had your t-shirt on backwards and inside out when you got here,” you giggle. “Make sure it’s the right way now.”

“But then Tommy will notice, and he’ll know where I’ve been,” Joel points out pragmatically, still putting the t-shirt on the right way. It immediately gets dark spots in the front.

“I think he’ll know either way,” you yawn. Joel returns to bed for one last kiss.

“Fuck, I wanna stay.”

“I want that too.” You cup his cheek to keep his lips on yours for a moment longer.

“Mmm…” he hums into your mouth. “See you this weekend?”

“Absolutely.”

He presses one last kiss on your mouth before leaving you to your boneless rest.

[cuddlytogas]

So I accidentally almost got into an argument on Twitter, and now I'm thinking about bad historical costuming tropes. Specifically, Action Hero Leather Pants.

See, I was light-heartedly pointing out the inaccuracies of the costumes in Black Sails, and someone came out of the woodwork to defend the show. The misunderstanding was that they thought I was dismissing the show just for its costumes, which I wasn't - I was simply pointing out that it can't entirely care about material history (meaning specifically physical objects/culture) if it treats its clothes like that.

But this person was slightly offended on behalf of their show - especially, quote, "And from a fan of OFMD, no less!" Which got me thinking - it's true! I can abide a lot more historical costuming inaccuracy from Our Flag than I can Black Sails or Vikings. And I don't think it's just because one has my blorbos in it. But really, when it comes down to it...

What is the difference between this and this?

Here's the thing. Leather pants in period dramas isn't new. You've got your Vikings, Tudors, Outlander, Pirates of the Caribbean, Once Upon a Time, Will, The Musketeers, even Shakespeare in Love - they love to shove people in leather and call it a day. But where does this come from?

Obviously we have the modern connotations. Modern leather clothes developed in a few subcultures: cowboys drew on Native American clothing. (Allegedly. This is a little beyond my purview, I haven't seen any solid evidence, and it sounds like the kind of fact that people repeat a lot but is based on an assumption. I wouldn't know, though.) Leather was used in some WWI and II uniforms.

But the big boom came in the mid-C20th in motorcycle, punk/goth, and gay subcultures, all intertwined with each other and the above. Motorcyclists wear leather as practical protective gear, and it gets picked up by rock and punk artists as a symbol of counterculture, and transferred to movie designs. It gets wrapped up in gay and kink communities, with even more countercultural and taboo meanings. By the late C20th, leather has entered mainstream fashion, but it still carries those references to goths, punks, BDSM, and motorbike gangs, to James Dean, Marlon Brando, and Mick Jagger. This is whence we get our Spikes and Dave Listers in 1980s/90s media, bad boys and working-class punks.

And some of the above "historical" design choices clearly build on these meanings. William Shakespeare is dressed in a black leather doublet to evoke the swaggering bad boy artist heartthrob, probably down on his luck. So is Kit Marlowe.

But the associations get a little fuzzier after that. Hook, with his eyeliner and jewellery, sure. King Henry, yeah, I see it. It's hideously ahistorical, but sure. But what about Jamie and Will and Ragnar, in their browns and shabby, battle-ready chic? Well, here we get the other strain of Bad Period Drama Leather.

See, designers like to point to history, but it's just not true. Leather armour, especially in the western/European world, is very, very rare, and not just because it decays faster than metal. (Yes, even in ancient Greece/Rome, despite many articles claiming that as the start of the leather armour trend!) It simply wasn't used a lot, because it's frankly useless at defending the body compared to metal. Leather was used as a backing for some splint armour pieces, and for belts, sheathes, and buckles, but it simply wasn't worn like the costumes above. It's heavy, uncomfortable, and hard to repair - it's simply not practical for a garment when you have perfectly comfortable, insulating, and widely available linen, wool, and cotton!

As far as I can see, the real influence on leather in period dramas is fantasy. Fantasy media has proliferated the idea of leather armour as the lightweight choice for rangers, elves, and rogues, a natural, quiet, flexible material, less flashy or restrictive than metal. And it is cheaper for a costume department to make, and easier for an actor to wear on set. It's in Dungeons and Dragons and Lord of the Rings, King Arthur, Runescape, and World of Warcraft.

And I think this is how we get to characters like Ragnar and Vane. This idea of leather as practical gear and light armour, it's fantasy, but it has this lineage, behind which sits cowboy chaps and bomber/flight jackets. It's usually brown compared to the punk bad boy's black, less shiny, and more often piecemeal or decorated. In fact, there's a great distinction between the two Period Leather Modes within the same piece of media: Robin Hood (2006)! Compare the brooding, fascist-coded villain Guy of Gisborne with the shabby, bow-wielding, forest-dwelling Robin:

So, back to the original question: What's the difference between Charles Vane in Black Sails, and Edward Teach in Our Flag Means Death?

Simply put, it's intention. There is nothing intentional about Vane's leather in Black Sails. It's not the only leather in the show, and it only says what all shabby period leather says, relying on the same tropes as fantasy armour: he's a bad boy and a fighter in workaday leather, poor, flexible, and practical. None of these connotations are based in reality or history, and they've been done countless times before. It's boring design, neither historically accurate nor particularly creative, but much the same as all the other shabby chic fighters on our screens. He has a broad lineage in Lord of the Rings and Pirates of the Caribbean and such, but that's it.

In Our Flag, however, the lineage is much, much more intentional. Ed is a direct homage to Mad Max, the costuming in which is both practical (Max is an ex-cop and road warrior), and draws on punk and kink designs to evoke a counterculture gone mad to the point of social breakdown, exploiting the thrill of the taboo to frighten and titillate the audience.

In particular, Ed is styled after Max in the second movie, having lost his family, been badly injured, and watched the world turn into an apocalypse. He's a broken man, withdrawn, violent, and deliberately cutting himself off from others to avoid getting hurt again. The plot of Mad Max 2 is him learning to open up and help others, making himself vulnerable to more loss, but more human in the process.

This ties directly into the themes of Our Flag - it's a deliberate intertext. Ed's emotional journey is also one from isolation and pain to vulnerability, community, and love. Mad Max (intentionally and unintentionally) explores themes of masculinity, violence, and power, while Max has become simplified in the popular imagination as a stoic, badass action hero rather than the more complex character he is, struggling with loss and humanity. Similarly, Our Flag explores masculinity, both textually (Stede is trying to build a less abusive pirate culture) and metatextually (the show champions complex, banal, and tender masculinities, especially when we're used to only seeing pirates in either gritty action movies or childish comedies).

Our Flag also draws on the specific countercultures of motorcycles, rockers, and gay/BDSM culture in its design and themes. Naturally, in such a queer show, one can't help but make the connection between leather pirates and leather daddies, and the design certainly nods at this, with its vests and studs. I always think about this guy, with his flat cap so reminiscient of gay leather fashions.

More overtly, though, Blackbeard and his crew are styled as both violent gangsters and countercultural rockstars. They rove the seas like a bikie gang, free and violent, and are seen as icons, bad boys and celebrities. Other pirates revere Blackbeard and wish they could be on his crew, while civilians are awed by his reputation, desperate for juicy, gory details.

This isn't all of why I like the costuming in Our Flag Means Death (especially season 1). Stede's outfits are by no means accurate, but they're a lot more accurate than most pirate media, and they're bright and colourful, with accurate and delightful silks, lace, velvets, and brocades, and lovely, puffy skirts on his jackets. Many of the Revenge crew wear recognisable sailor's trousers, and practical but bright, varied gear that easily conveys personality and flair. There is a surprising dedication to little details, like changing Ed's trousers to fall-fronts for a historical feel, Izzy's puffy sleeves, the handmade fringe on Lucius's red jacket, or the increasing absurdity of navy uniform cuffs between Nigel and Chauncey.

A really big one is the fact that they don't shy away from historical footwear! In almost every example above, we see the period drama's obsession with putting men in skinny jeans and bucket-top boots, but not only does Stede wear his little red-heeled shoes with stockings, but most of his crew, and the ordinary people of Barbados, wear low boots or pumps, and even rough, masculine characters like Pete wear knee breeches and bright colours. It's inaccurate, but at least it's a new kind of inaccuracy, that builds much more on actual historical fashions, and eschews the shortcuts of other, grittier period dramas in favour of colour and personality.

But also. At least it fucking says something with its leather.

[jksian]

When the end comes

You loved him with all your heart, held onto the person you knew will never be yours; but, the only regret you had was, you weren't able to tell him about those feelings.

Pairing: best friends brother JK x reader

Genre: ANGSTY, unrequited love

W/c: mid length?

warnings: depressing thoughts and implied suicidal thoughts, character dea*h, workplace harrasment, illness, family drama and step-parent, one sided love from oc' s side, tattoo artist Jk, age gape

A/N- This story is incomplete and I don't intend to continue it, but I'm still posting it because I wanted to share it with you guys and since many of you expressed your desire to read it :⁠-⁠)

It was during the autumn season when he first met you.

Not in a literal sense; but that was the day he thought he finally come to knew you. A side of you, he never thought he would be able to witness.

Just like the sight in front of him right now.

He did not even fathom the idea of seeing you like this. Beautiful eyes which once shined so brightly under the sun; are now closed. Not even a hint of flickering of your eyelashes which you usually do while being extremely nervous.

Now, autumn has returned again; but, despite the comforting warmth of the cozy weather being replaced by the harsh wind blowing away the leaves from the trees, creating the atmosphere unbearably gloomy and dull.

Because the warmth is gone, along with you.

…

15 years ago…

“Why is he coming, now!? Fuck, I have to meet Sam!” Jia was beyond frustrated after knowing that her brother was coming to picked her up from the school.

Both you and Jia had been friends since your childhood. From being scolded by teachers to helping each other in anything and everything and being the ‘crime in partners’ duo, everyone in your school knew you two were inseparable.

She was always been a free-spirited girl. Generous and helpful, she was kind of a friend who stick by your side in bad times. Other than that, there were many good things about her and one of those were, her brother.

Jeon Jungkook.

The first time when you laid your eyes on him, you couldn’t able to remove the image of his glowing face ever since then. He was gorgeous as well as kind. You were smitten by his beauty. He was popular among girls. With a face like that, it was a very common fact, girls often got trapped by his good-looks which wielded them to the world of imagination.

And, you were one of those girls.

You often found yourself daydreaming about him, made silly scenarios in your little head. Your weekly visits to his sister’s house and getting to watch him closely more than any of those girls could, doesn’t help with your increasing amount of fake scenarios growing inside of your mind.

It was a stupid little crush, but you still held onto the possibilities of those cringe worthy romantic stories in your head to manifest it into reality.

Whenever he was around, every time you got a little bit shy but you tried your best to hide it from others.

“Someone clearly isn’t happy to see me.” Your best friend’s brother sing song those words towards his sister, pointing out her scowl which was very much evident on her face upon seeing him. The fact that she was planning on meeting her so-called-date in the name of fake extra classes would be caught red-handed, made her panicked and mad.

“H-hello.” You asked him even though your heart was racing at the speed of 100 mph and your hand was sweating like the Niagara waterfall, you still conjured up some courage to start the conversation.

“Moon? How are you?” He immediately replied with a sweet smile on his face. People often compared his face with the bunny and you can say why. There are some significant similarities.

You got a little bit flustered whenever he used that name. He gave that name to you because you loved the moon. So much so that you escaped from your school with your Jia to watch the night sky.

It was the first time you witnessed the true beauty of the moon. Sitting on the edge of the river near her house, you both admired the shinning moon light spreading on the water as it sparkled.

You both got scolded for your little escaped not just from your parents but your teachers also. From that moment, he gave you the name ‘moon.’

He was in his sophomore year of college, got an scholarship to study in abroad. It was winter at that time when he got back in his own country during holidays. Even though the atmosphere was cold, Jungkook radiated warmth wherever he goes. He was always been the one who shined brightly in whatever he did.

Jia’s endless pleading didn’t helped much in convincing her brother, so she didn’t had any choice but to went back home. Through out the way to her home, she kept on cussing him.

“You go on dates too! Even, you have a girlfriend!” That was the first time you experienced your first heart break. It felt like someone had put a knife into your heart.

“So? Are you the same age as me?” Jungkook reasoned with her but the thing you noticed that, he didn’t denied it. Your friend wasn’t lying.

The brother-sister duo busy their selves in an argument about “Jia should go on a date or not” where you went silent, had a emotional turmoil within you. It was so random, your little heart weren’t prepare for that news.

The thought of your crush loving someone else who was never gonna be you, shattered your heart. That day, you cried your heart out into your pillow at night when no one was around to heard your broken sobs.

…

Thanksgiving came and it was time for celebration. It was the time for eating delicious food, show our gratitude to the universe and spending time with our loved ones.

But, you weren’t particularly enjoying.

Every year, the Jeon’s and your family celebrated most of the occasions together, due to your father and Mr. Jeon being friends apart from your friendship with their daughter. But , this year, one more family joined in. You didn’t mind if it was just another random someone, but it wasn’t someone random.

The food was excellent as always. Mrs. Jeon had always been a great cook. All the food was mouth-watering but still, you found your self concentrating more on the scene unfolding in front of you rather than your food.

Jungkook invited his girlfriend to his house on Thanksgiving. That was the first time you saw the girl, your crush was in love with.

She was beautiful would be an understatement. Long, silky hair which was dyed brown, tall with a sweet personality. Anyone could have said on the first glance at them that, they were made for each other. There were many similarities between them too, like both were studying at the same college, Jungkook being art major and she was in the literature department, both belonged to the same city but never met each other before and the most importantly, both were at the same age.

Where you were four years younger than him, basically same age as his sister.

He probably think of you as his sister. No. Definitely he did.

You were burning with rage when you saw them holding hands. Even though everyone was around them, they didn’t seem to care much. It also seemed like Jungkook’s family liked her so much. They were happy that their son have met someone who made him happy. Both their families were happy about their relationship.

When it was evening, everyone was chattering and laughing inside the house but you were on the balcony, standing alone. You couldn’t help but cry. It was too much for you. You’d been crying for days now, but now that you’ve seen his girlfriend, there was no denying that it was real. Their relationship was real and you didn’t had a chance anymore.

“Moon is watching the moon?” You didn’t noticed when Jungkook came here. You abruptly wiped your tears away from your cheeks. He came closer to you and stand beside you, you took a step away, tried harder to hide your face from him.

When he noticed you hadn’t answered his question, he continued “I picked the right name for you, didn’t I?” he asked again, tried to humor you but you were nowhere near to laugh or even smile at his jokes.

You were standing there silently, not staring at the sky anymore. You lowered your gaze and your head fall downwards, shoulders slumped. He must had sensed that something was wrong with you, that’s why he asked “Hey, are you okay–,”

Before he can finish his sentence, an ugly sob slipped past your mouth, unable to held it back anymore. This time he didn’t held back, he placed his hand on your shoulder and made you look at him. You were insistent on not to face him so he settled with just holding you by your shoulder.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks without any resistance but his hands felt comforting even though he was the one hurting you at that time.

“What happened? Does someone hurt you?” you could sense the concern in his voice, his voice was so soft like he was afraid of hurting you. That made you cry even harder.

“____, please tell me what happened?” This time he was rubbing your arms up and down, a gesture of comfort. He patiently stand there until you calmed down and was ready to talk.

When he saw you finally wiping your tears away, he took a loose strand of your hair and tuck it behind your ear. That little affection felt like someone poked a needle into your heart.

“I like someone.”

You whisper to him , tried your hardest to not burst out crying again. You saw his expression turned into confusion, so you continued “But, He doesn’t like me.”

Again, your eyes were filling with tears. The image of them together encrusted into your mind will always hunt your down for sure.

Jungkook seemed to contemplate on how to respond to you. Then, he asked “How could you know that he doesn’t likes you?”

“Because, he has a girlfriend.”

Jungkook was taken aback by your statement. He looked at you with sympathy in his eyes, like he was sad about the situation you were in.

“I- are you sure? Also, do I know them by any chance?”

You avoided his gaze but nodded to his question. You were afraid that he might know about your secret crush on him. What if, he hates you after knowing that he was the person you likes?

No no, you couldn’t let that happen.

“how old is he?”

“Same age as yours. And, I’m sure that he has a girlfriend. I’ve seen them together the other day. You- you might know him but I don’t know…” You shifted on your feet, fidgeted under his curious gaze. He was staring at you, you felt that even though you were looking at the other direction.

“May I know his nam– ,”

“No.” Before he could ask the question, you dismissed immediately. There’s no way in hell you were gonna tell him that.

After seeing your defensive state, he didn’t push that question onto you anymore.

“Okay. You know, you’re a beautiful girl, right? You’ll find someone better than him in the future who will love you.” His smile was surreal, he was looking at you like you were the only one existed in the world, Eyes so gentle.

He was such a kind person, always helping who was in need, from offering jacket to a random person at a cold night to rescuing you from getting embarrassed in front of thousands of people on your first day of period. Even if you tried to assume that he was being caring only to you, that you’re special to him, you knew it wasn’t true.

You were just a random girl who was happened to be his sister’s friend.

He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to you. Your tears were as stubborn as you were, “If he is my age then, that means he is older than you –,” the realization hit him.

“–___, he didn’t do anything to you right?” his worrisome expression made you think that why does that matter? His brows were pinched as he searched for your eyes.

“N-no, why are you asking that?”

“You should be careful from people, especially older guys. I’m not saying all the older guys are bad, but you haven’t see much of the world yet, so it might be difficult for you to identify who is good. You also haven’t matured enough–,”

“What do you mean by that!?” you got offended by the those words. Matureness doesn’t comes from age, also why was he acting like a seventy years old grandpa?

He got off guard from the sudden change in your tone. Shifted on his feet, he tried to make you understand his prospective, “I mean, many guys in our college targets younger girls like you to take advantage of, and… I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“W-why?” you wiped your nose with his handkerchief as you asked.

“Who wants something bad happens to the people they care about?” his smile was so genuine, the way he looked at you back then, made you feel things you’d never felt for anyone else.

That night you realized that, maybe, your silly little crush on him wasn’t just a crush. It was more than that. Something that might ruin you in the end but, still you let that thing to engulfed you completely.

That night, you found comfort in the person who was the reason behind your heart break.

…

That year, your father got transferred to a different country, so without a doubt, it was the time when you part your ways with your best friend.

It was painful, parting ways with the friend you’ve spend your almost entire life, but what’s more painful, was not able to see your childhood love ever again.

That was the last time you saw Jungkook on your way to the airport, walking hand in hand with his girlfriend.

You didn’t knew back then when someone’s in love, how they looked like. That radiant smile on his face and the glitter in his eyes when he looked at her shined so brightly made you think that, maybe it was the face of a man in love.

But, the sad thing was, you were not the reason behind that smile on his face.

…

8 years ago

Life wouldn’t be anymore shittier.

After you left your country, you tried your hardest to overcome and forget about Jungkook.

You left everything behind and those memories you’d made with some of the closest people there, weren’t leaving your mind even for some moments. Every little thing you did back then, reminded you of them, especially Jungkook.

Still, you managed.

You did graduated from a college and got a job. Everything was going fine until you found out that you had pancreatic cancer.

Doctors said that it wasn’t in it’s last stage yet but after thousands of medications and appointments for half an year, before that day, they declared that you only had 10 months to live only.

Not even an year.

It was so unfair. You had dreams and goals which you still had to achieve but life had other plans for you.

Your health wasn’t well enough to maintain a 9-5 job, but, you still did it because you didn’t wanted to be a burden on your family.

You were twenty-four when you realized your life was going to end soon.

“What is this!? Are you gonna present this in front of the client?” Your boss shouted at you, that bald-faced nuisance who doesn’t even know how to pronounce ‘future’. Yeah, his future was as clear as his empty bald-head.

You’ve submitted the same project for the third time, because he wasn’t ‘satisfied’ with your work, but the truth was, he doesn’t even turned the first page of it to check. Clearly, he was just messing around with you or to be honest, harassing you.

The reason behind it – rejection. You rejected his offer of ‘get a promotion just by spending a night with him’. He was adamant on sleeping with you. His flirty remarks wasn’t very subtle, you knew this pervert would come to this point at sometime.

“Make this again!” he threw the file across the table towards you. It hits you and you cursed under your breath.

“What was that?” he asked, his chimpanzee like face contort with anger once again.

He got a pretty punchable face.

“Have you checked my project, sir?” there was mockery in your voice which his one brain cell wasn’t able to comprehend.

“What nonsense are you talking about?” his brows were pinched together, flared his nose like a fucking dragon.

“I submitted the same project for the third time yet, you didn’t noticed that. Is your ego got hurt so much so that after my rejection, you’re doing this pity things to me now?”

His face goes through seven stages of grief, fear flashed through his eyes but, soon turned into rage. He abruptly stood up from his chair, banging his fist on the table, “What the hell are you talking about!? Have you forgotten your place? Don’t cross the limit, ____. You’re nothing, a good for nothing! You should know that, I’m your senior here, talk to me with respect! Or –,”

“Or what? Are you gonna complain? You know, I’m also going to complain about something…” You said, your tone as calm as ever but eyes hard as a rock.

He knew, what filthy texts he had sent you and obviously, you didn’t deleted them even though he had told you to. You thought, he might explode right at that moment out of anger, “Are you threatening me? Huh? What? Are you gonna complain about me now?”

“Yes, you asshole.”

“Bitch–,” He was going to hit you with a file but before he could do that, your colleagues interrupted and he stopped midway, pretending like nothing happened.

You stormed out of his office, never minding him calling your name continuously. Everyone in your office looked at you like you’d grown two horns on your head. You didn’t gave them any attention and straight up went to the CEO’s office.

He had threatened you countless times about how you were gonna lose your job if you don’t work how he wants you to, accordingly.

But, you had nothing to lose anymore.

After you filed a complain and submitted the resignation letter, you left that company. For good.

On the way to your home, you called your parents and told the you left your job. Your step-mom was more furious than your own dad.

Of course, you knew that would happen but what was the benefit of continuing the job when you won’t be alive anymore.

You hang up the call as soon as you heard her shouting from the other side.

You felt lost. What were you doing all these years?

Barely surviving.

You didn’t even know how it felt to live life. Not surviving, living.

All you did was, earning money with your fragile health to make it stronger but instead, it worsen even more at the end.

Now, you were on the brink of death.

Is it okay to leave everything behind? You thought. It wasn’t like you had much left in your life anyway. Your parents were stressed all the time because of you. Your sister were depressed after knowing about your condition.

Is it too soon to die in this moment? You asked yourself while standing at the edge of the bridge which connected two cities together. Staring at the river below, almost 136 meters high. You kept on staring blankly at the way water flows by, wondering where it might took you if you jump at this instance.

Before, your intrusive thoughts controlled you, your eyes landed on a bird, it’s wing crippled. It kept on chirping and tried to fly, but every time it does, landed on the surface of the barrier.

You slowly shifted closer to it, not wanted to scared it away and held it in your palms gently, “Hey, let me bandage you, okay? You will be able to fly again then!”

Fortunately, you had a small box of fast aid kit with you. Being a full-time patient and a regular visitor to the hospital, you got accustomed with the medical kits and medicines.

You swiftly bandaged the wounded wing carefully while rubbing its back.

“Do you have a name?”

The bird wiggled into your hold a little. You realized how dumb that question was, but you’d always liked talking to animals even though they couldn’t reply back to you or even understood you. All they did was, stare at your face dumbfoundedly, probably judging the crazy women in front of them.

After you were done, you released it from your hold and you saw the bird flying again.

The happiness you felt at that moment was indescribable. It felt like, you were cured from your deathly disease and your death sentence has been halt for a long period of time.

You felt like, you could live your life, just like that bird.

You felt…alive for a moment.

You didn’t knew when you started crying, tears ran down on your cheeks, on their own. You saw the bird fly happily. It wasn’t fully recovered yet, but still, the determination and courage ignited something inside of you.

At that moment, you regain the courage to live your life.

Not surviving anymore but, living your life to its fullest. At least for once.

…

Convincing your family wasn’t easy, especially your step-mother.

You had decided that, you want to spend your last days of your life in your hometown, which meant, you all had to move back to your old country where, once you left everything behind.

“I want to live my life before I die, dad. I want to live and do all those things while I’m still alive… because I don’t want regret it on my last days. Please, let me fulfil all those dreams before I left this earth?”

You father rarely saw you crying since you’d grown up. Not that you often cried in front of people, you always preferred crying silently in the dark of your room, hiding from everyone.

It was surprising to him.

But, the most surprising thing was, when you saw tears in his eyes. Your father was someone who believed that, crying was a sign of weakness.

But, he didn’t showed that to you, hiding his face from you, he said, “Then go, start packing your bags.”

You didn’t believe your own ears, did you heard it right?

You couldn’t contained your excitement as you hugged your father from behind and said, “Thank you.”

Tears breamed from your eyes after realizing that, finally you were going back to your country.

…

The streets still looked almost the same where you had spent your entire childhood, just not as much calm and warm as it used to be.

So many residents were built there now, it was more hectic and crowded. Thankfully, your old house was on sale at that time. The owner whom your father had sold that house to, wanted to sell it and your father bought it.

The walls of that house held so many memories, many untold truths and evidence of your cruel sleepless nights. The whispers of heart break buried in a corner of your room. All those memories came back to your mind and you found yourself day-dreaming about your old crush again.

“Where Jungkook might be right now?”

“What are you thinking about?” your sister came up behind you, noticing your eyes fixed on the direction of his house.

Your sister had graduated at the same year when you guys moved here. You were more than happy that she decided to start her career here and stayed with you, at least for that reason, you were able to spent your last days with her.

She knew about every single thing happened in your life and Jungkook wasn’t exceptional.

“Nothing…”

“Don’t lie. You were thinking about Jungkook, right?”

Oh god. Hearing that name after so many years, felt surreal. It only intensified the longing you were feeling all those years. Your eyes slightly widened but you dismissed immediately.

“No, you idiot. Go and do your work.”

“You don’t? Okay then, if you say so… but you should probably call Jia, she will be so happy to see you again!”

“I’ll call her later but now, my head is aching! Can you please make me some tea?” you pouted at her, gave her those innocent doe eyes. She glared at you in return, with bombastic side eyes, she left the room.

You giggled and heard her cursing back at you. You laughed a little more at that. Your bond with your sister was special. Something very close to your heart. She was the only family you had, according to you.

Your parents got divorced when you were only twelve years old, so figuring out what was going on and adjusting to the situation was difficult for you. Separating from your mother was especially harder, you thought of her as your best friend but…

No one’s gonna stay with you for forever and you learned it the hard way.

Ever since then, so many things changed in your life. Your father married again in the hope that, you and your sister might be able to experience the motherly love from her, but instead you got more pain and suffering.

She was at your throat for every single second, peace was something you used to crave, if not love. You never felt at home. When you found out about your disease, it was a disaster; but still, all she cared about was money.

How thoughtful!

You decided to take your sister’s advice and called your best friend. After eight years, you were again in your hometown. It was so nostalgic that you got emotional.

All the furniture were yet to be settled, your bed wasn’t ready to be used so you took a seat on your window, staring outside.

As you saw the canvas of the evening sky transforms into a masterpiece of hues, a tapestry of twilight unfolds, painted in soft pastels — a symphony of peach, lavender, and whispers of indigo. That moment felt celestial as your heart filled with an unknown warmth and you found yourself embracing your own body into your arms.

You had called her few times in all those years and she did too; but, with time, the busy schedules and hectic day to day life forced both of you to grew apart. The calls kept on reducing in number and, then it stopped altogether.

The call rang for four times before she picked up. For some moments, you were just staring at each other’s faces, network wasn’t working on your favor so it took time to get a clear picture of her face.

“You’re still alive?” was the first thing she asked you, very typical ‘Jia’ like behavior.

“Yeah, I’m still alive. Thank you very much! How are you?” you humored her and you saw her scoffed.

“You tell me, where were you? Huh? NO calls! NO massages!… were you gone underground or something? Oh no, wait! You forgot about me, right?”

She kept on blabbering her nonsense, falsely accusing you, dramatically thrown tantrums at you. You saw her brows pinched together as she glared at you which was supposed to be intimidating.

“Well, I’m in our hometown.”

“…What?!”

She couldn’t believe your words so you turned the camera around and gave her the view of the street where you guys used to run and play.

You saw her eyes widened and mouth gaped at the view, she scrutinized the area a little bit longer and made sure it was indeed her hometown.

“Fuck, bro! why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because I wanted to surprise you, but well, looks like you’re not here.”

Her face turned into a sad expression from irritation, mirroring your own face.

You knew you would’ve told her, but you genuinely wanted to gave her a surprise with your arrival, in which failed miserably!

“It’s fine, I’m coming home in a few days.” That comforted you to some extent, knowing that you would be able to meet your best friend after all those years finally, before you die. It certainly gave you some comfort.

No one knew about your condition except your family, not even your best friend. The reason being, you wanted a normal life.

You didn’t wanted those sympathetic looks from others or them doing things for your just because you are gonna die soon.

No, you wanted them to act normal, just like they always did.

You didn’t wanted them to felt some urgency or pressure.

You didn’t wanted them to feel bad or guilty for you.

No, you wanted them to treat you normally, just like they had been with you ever since they met you.

Just a normal life before you die, where you can enjoy every second of your life and live it with others. Was that too much to ask for?

“Come back soon then,” Your smile held a sense of nostalgia and melancholy in it and for a brief second, you thought you saw tears in her eyes.

“By the way, have you informed others?” She changed the subject, probably didn’t wanted to cry at that moment of happiness.

“Yeah, we are going to meet at a club in this evening.”

“That’s great! Have fun then and also… is Jay coming?” she smirked at the camera and arched a brow at you.

Having a crush was different but this guy was on another level. He was head over heels for you. You never understood his obsession or love (what he used to say) for you. He was the same age as Jungkook. It wasn’t like he wasn’t good looking, on the contrary, he was charming. A guy for any girl would fall for. Topper of his class with that cute face of his, he got the whole package.

But, you never felt anything for him. So the first time he confessed to you, you straight up said ‘no’. Maybe it was a bit rude, not that you were denying but You never grasped the concept of leaving someone in ambiguity without providing a clear response, especially when it involved feelings.

“Do you want me to bonk you in the head? Why would he come to our reunion party? Come on…he isn’t even belong to our friend circle!” You said in disbelief and she rolled her eyes a little more.

“Dude, he was obsessing over you for such a long time! I’m sure he might be into you after all these year– ,”

“Jia–, you know how I feel about this–,” Yeah, she does. She knew everything, “Can we please drop it?”

She dropped the topic after your pleading. You always got irritated whenever she acted this way, teasing you by someone’s name who had a crush on you, constantly encouraged you to start dating one of them. You being you, never listened to her.

You both talked about things in general after that and then hang up.

Yeah, it was good. If not telling anyone about your sickness helped you live the way you wanted to, then, it’s okay.

As soon as you hang up the call, you felt a sharp pain in your stomach. You breathed in and out as you tried to endure it. Probably because you hadn’t took your medications yet. That’s why it was happening. You’d accustomed with all this by that time, so it wasn’t any thing new to you.

You were fine.

…

The city you lived in looked different but still, there was a familiarity in it.

Sidewalks hum with activity as people strolled, laughter echoed from cafes, and the distant sounds of traffic created a vibrant urban symphony. The evening air carried a blend of aromas from food vendors, filled your noses trills and made your stomach grumbled.

You met with your school friends at the club 15 minutes away from your house as planned. Coming to a club doesn’t made sense to you, because you weren’t able to drink alcohol, but.. well… you were there because of your… friends.

You sat on a stool which were lined the polished counter, where patrons sipped drinks and shared laughter. You watched your friends danced across the crowded dance floor, lost in their own world.

You saw Kai from your friends group, approaching you, came straight at the direction where you were seated. You quickly reverted your eyes to somewhere, acted like you hadn’t even noticed him just now, like any other introvert, focusing on your drink in your hand.

“Hey, ____! Long time no see.” Yeah, it would be longer if he weren’t just interrupted your peaceful time there.

He was grinning ear to ear like he just found some treasure. You adjusted yourself to looked at him, “Yeah, Hey! How are you?”

“Oh fine, just living the busy life of a busy man. You say, what you’re been up to these days?” oh, nothing special, just waiting to be embraced by death and, oh! Also trying to have a peaceful time which now has been disrupted. You hoped you’d be able to say that on his face but… oh, well… manners!

“Nothing special –,” He pulled a stool beside you and hopped on it, “You say?”

You watched him settling beside you comfortably. You internally rolled your eyes when you realized he probably wasn’t going anywhere soon.

He started talking about his life which you didn’t mind any attention to, you were busy finding loopholes to escaped the man in front of you. You eyes darted frantically everywhere around the club to found any of your friends, anyone, but the crowd made it harder to spot any of them.

He offered you a tequila which you politely refused. Then, he continued insisting on buying you a drink, his words laced with determination, the alcohol in his system clearly kicked out at that moment. The background buzz of the bar heightened as he tried to charm you into accepting, created a moment of tension which wasn’t a good kind.

Despite your clear signal of disinterest, he remained persistent. It ultimately left you annoyed than ever. The last time, your refusal was harsh, words came out of your mouth was rude but the situation particularly made it harder for you to be calm, “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want a drink? It would be great if leave me alone.”

He took that to his heart, it seemed, because the look he gave you was similar to Chihuahua dogs when angry. You never got what this boy’s problem was, even any other boy who tried to pursued you before.

Why boys don’t know when to stop and have no shame? Universal question. The whole world wanted to know the answer, included yourself.

“Why the attitude? I’m just trying to be friendly! Damn, seems like you don’t deserve that–,” He scoffed, “you’ve become more hot, not gonna lie; but, that hard-to-get bitchy attitude is still there.”

The audacity he had!

You raised an eyebrow but maintained your composure. “Friendly doesn’t usually come with comments like that. It’s about mutual respect,” You retorted.

He leaned against the counter, undeterred. “Come on, no need to be so serious. I’m just being honest here. You were always good looking and now, you looks irresistible, but the attitude…”

You sighed, contemplated on if you walked out of there or slap him across his face, “Honesty is appreciated when it’s respectful. Your comments are crossing the line.”

Unfazed, he chuckled, “I just call it like I see it. No harm meant.”

“Well, it’s causing harm. I value my personal space and expect to be treated with respect,” You stated firmly.

He scoffed again, “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to loosen up a bit. Not every compliment is an attack.”

As his audacity reached new heights with an attempt to grab your arm, frustration surged within you. You were on the verge of snapping back, but just in the nick of time, a familiar voice called your name, halting your impending outburst.

“Hey, there you are! I’ve been looking for you.”

You turned your face to your left and saw Jungkook standing there, a n knowing smile on his face which he usually made when he got annoyed or angry.

Relieved and equally surprised to hear his familiar voice, you redirected your attention, grateful for the interruption regardless.

You stared at him with wide eyes, still thinking that if he was real or not. He glanced at the guy who had attempted to grab your arm, his smile faded into a more serious expression. “Is everything okay here?" Jungkook asked, his tone carried a subtle warning.

The guy got tensed, visibly uncomfortable under Jungkook’s scrutiny, stammered, “Just a misunderstanding, man.”

Jungkook’s demeanor remained stern as he replied, “Best not to misunderstand personal boundaries. She’s not interested.”

His hand was on your shoulder in a comforting manner. With that, Jungkook subtly positioned himself between you and the guy, creating a clear physical barrier. The unwelcome intruder, perhaps sensed the shift in dynamics, made a hasty exit. His protective side kicked out.…

…Like any other big brother might had.

Being the protective big brother he was, Jungkook had a younger sister, so dealing with guys hitting on her became a familiar scenario for him. He had accumulated experience in handling such situations.

Yeah, he still saw you like his little sister.

“Jungkook…” Words came out breathy form your mouth like you still hadn’t believe him standing there. The feeling you had buried in a corner of your heart years ago resurfaced once again, the bittersweet warmth you used to feel whenever you saw him bloomed inside of your heart.

Jungkook’s gaze held a mix of familiarity and affection, and you found myself lost in the moment, the years melting away.

“Hey –,” He said softly as he stand in front of you, “Are you okay?”

When he smiled at you, you realized his smile was still the same, radiated warmth and playfulness. That boyish innocence was still there but with a mix of mature allure that time. That doe-like, expressive eyes that held a certain depth, his gaze was both inviting and enigmatic, in which you found yourself drowned.

There were significant changes in his appearance though, like the tattoos on his arm and those piercings on his eyebrows, ears and even his lips. You stared at him absentmindedly before he spoke, “Moon? I asked if you’re okay?” That name again!

“Yeah, right… I’m okay. Thank you, Jungkook.”

He smiled at your response as he said, “I didn’t knew you were in the town.”

“Yeah, no one does actually. I wanted to surprise Jia, but she is out of the country so…’

“Right, she is.” Then silence settled between you two. Before it could got more awkward, Jungkook said, “So…how is life going?” as he took the seat on which Kai was settled before.

How were you gonna answer that? Your life… you felt like it was never yours. You moved out of the country because of your father, you got a college degree so you could help your family financially, then you diagnosed with a disease which eventually going to kill you so you didn’t had much time left.

But, in all of these, what you did for yourselves? When was the time you actually lived your life?

You didn’t had an answer to that tbh.

“Nothing special. My dad got retired so we thought about coming back to our country.” You answered, swirling the glass of virgin mojito in your hand. “and, what about you?”

“Me?” He asked, his doe eyes staring wide at you, chucking a little, he replied, “Came back to my home after realizing, I’m not gonna get a job there any time soon, not bad though–,” He glanced over your shoulder as you saw something flickered in his eyes, “ –Then thought about starting my own business, now I got my own tattoo shop.”

You saw him frequently glancing over your shoulder, as if someone was behind you whome was trying to see.

“Oh! That’s awesome!”

He didn’t replied and kept staring at a particular direction behind you. When you attempted to look behind, he stopped you by grabbing your arm. “Yeah, it is.”

He let out a laugh which clearly indicated his nervousness. “Is everything okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Is someone behind me?”

“Yeah… it’s just my ex.”

He said that casually as if he wasn’t just trying to desperately snatch a glance at her. You didn’t understand, his ex?

You remember his girlfriend. What was her name again?

Nina? Nanny? Ah, no. Yes!

Nancy. She was his girlfriend whom he invited to the thanksgiving party. As far as you knew, they were still dating according to Jia even though she confessed that to you a long time ago.

“Umm– Jungkook? I need more context to understand what you’re talking about. So, fill me in what I’m missing out?” You squinted at him dramatically and he laughed a little at your ministration.

That same smile which was enough to make your heart flutter and skip a beat.

“It’s nothing, just that…” He paused midway and glanced over your head again before continuing, “We broke things up a few months ago. Decided to go separate ways because we didn’t work out eventually?”

There was a question mark at the end, you wondered why was that for. Was he not know why they broke up? That’s sounds silly. Maybe, he was confused after they broke things up and thought that he made a mistake there? He might still wanted to be with her?

Before your train of thought escalate even further, He tapped you on your shoulder and brought you back to the reality, “Earth to ___,” You saw him smiling at you, “What are you thinking?”

You were wearing off shoulders, so, the naked touch of his fingers upon your skin kindled a transient flame, imprinting an indelible mark of his presence that will linger unwelcomed for the next few days.

“N-nothing, what were you saying again?” shaking the dizziness from witnessing the stars in his eyes, you asked. It’s normal for a human being like you, feeling dizzy after touched by someone made of stars. Gotta be grounded, you aren’t allowed to touch the stars, you reminded yourself.

“I asked, if you want to dance with me. Would you?” He asked as he extended his hand for you. You knew, you shouldn’t touch the stars but the shining flow of it made you blinded to the upcoming consequences of your actions.

You should knew well, why he was asking for a dance. His ex was still behind you so the only reason would be to – made her jealous, still you reciprocated.

You warned him about your lack of knowledge in dancing, nonetheless, he pulled you to the dance floor.

Placed your hands on his shoulder and his on your waist, he instructed you to move. As soon as, you two stepped on the dance floor, the song changed to a melodic one from a upbeat song.

Apocalypse by cigarettes after sex started playing in the background and you found yourself staring at the men in front of you for a second before you broke the eye contact.

Even thought you turned you face to the other side you could feel his eyes on you, making your mind go blank.

He pulled you closer, bodies Pressed together as both of you started to move in sync with the music. His breath hit the side of your face, making your breath hitched after knowing the close proximity between you two.

“____,” He called, your name sounded pretty from his lips, “Look at me.”

It sounded like a demand but his tone suggested other wise. Tender and delicate, as his soft lips brushed against your hairline, made you gulped the lump forming in your throat.

You did look him in the eyes. His gaze, held galaxies within, each flicker echoing the poetry of an undiscovered universe, in which you found yourself lost.

“You’re doing good. Just don’t think too much and let your body move according to the rhythm –,” He said, his gaze focused on your face, closer than before. The ambient lighting casted a soft glow, accentuating his delicate features, his words gave you courage, an unfamiliar sense of comfort and his face made you thought that you had someone you could rely on.

In that shared gaze, time momentarily freezes and you found yourself falling for him, again.

“Aish…I sounded like some know-it-all, I think? don’t mind it, please.” There was nervousness in his voice, fleeting glances searched for reassurance to make sure you didn’t found that offensive.

You didn’t help but realized how thoughtful and considerate a person could be that he was worrying about something so small. It wasn’t even sounded offensive to you, it was just a suggestion, guidance to someone who doesn’t know the ‘D’ of dancing.

Like a delicate melody played on uncertain notes—a sincere expression that made his words all the more genuine and endearing and you found that oddly charming.

You couldn’t help but smiled at him, “Don’t worry, I didn’t mind at all, but… I might get offended if you don’t tell me the truth right now.” You teased, slightly grinding at him.

He pinched his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

“Are you. . . Somehow trying to make your ex jealous? Because if you are, I think it’s working.”

His eyes widened a bit, clearly wasn’t expecting something like that. He, again, glanced over to the girl who was still standing at the same spot for ten minutes, observing every move you two made.

“I– No–, I mean not exactly,” He looked at you with a hint of guilt in his eyes, giving you an apologetic smile, “Well, not gonna lie. I did tried to make her kinda jealous – but it wasn’t the entire reason why I asked you for a dance.” You found a hint of panic in his eyes, again looking like he didn’t wanted to offend by any means, which you found enduring. Why does he cared so much? You thought.

You couldn’t help but saw this little things in people, especially the people you held close to your heart.

“Then, why did you asked?”

“Because, I wanted to.” He said casually, as if he didn’t just made you skipped your heart beat a little faster. You shifted your gaze to the other side, feeling weird emotions about the person you wouldn’t felt. Nonetheless, you chuckled a little bit.

“You would have told me earlier, then I might have put more effort.”

“So, you aren’t putting effort yet?” He giggled, eyes gleamed under the light.

“No – I didn’t mean that, but, now we have a mission in our hands, so we better win it!”

He made a look of knowing, realized what you were implying. He let out a chuckle, shook his head at you adorably and gripped your hand a bit firmly, pulling you a little bit closer as if there were any gap in between.

Your chest flashed against his, the burning heat of your cheeks might be visible by then, you felt his thumb rubbing slowly at your waist where he was holding you. That small gesture was supposed to be comforting but it only made your cheeks grew a shade brighter.

You thanked the dimly lights of the club.

The evening went by just the two of you holding each other close as you swung your bodies to the unfamiliar melodies. This time, there was no barrier in between you two, like, ‘he see me as his sister’ or ‘he has a girlfriend.’

…

Sometimes, It was hard for you to understand Jia.

That one time when she asked if she could borrow your white gown on her birthday. Of course you gave that to her. It was her birthday party in the evening, so you didn’t grasp the fact why she wanted to wore something …old, when she had a new dress waiting for her in her wardrobe.

But, then switched her dress to that very new black dress in the middle of that party. When you asked her, she refused to gave you an explanation, which baffled you and left you confused.

Even though you didn’t liked her odd behavior that night, you let that slipped.

“Taehyung is looking at your direction –,” one of the girls from your class whispered in your ears as she giggled like a typical teen girl next to you.

All of your friends were sitting at the cafeteria, munching on your food. It was a typical boring day at school until your eyes landed on Jungkook. He was in the senior year and also the captain of school soccer team.

When you were busy drooling over him, your friends started making their own theories.

“Yeah, I’ve seen him staring at ___ quite often.” Other girl from your same table passed a comment.

Kim Taehyung was in the soccer team as well but a year older than Jungkook, but they were like brothers, the ‘IT’ best friend duo. It was quite usual for you to saw Taehyung whenever Jungkook was around. He was with him almost all the time.

But, you never noticed him staring at you. You thought they were making silly scenarios in their little head in hope of some Juicy gossip until you noticed, Kim Taehyung staring at your direction.

“Stop, guys! He is probably looking at somewhere else or looking for someone? Who knows!” You shrugged them off, not wanted to participate in their nonsense.

The men, they were talking about was the ‘sweetheart’ of your high school, every other girl was smitten by him, so it was a bit difficult for you to accept that he might had a crush on you.

“___, you are dangerously oblivious.” Then they laughed as if they just discovered the funniest joke of the century, their laughter echoed through out the cafeteria except from you and Jia.

It was easy to assume someone’s weight just by looking at the structure of their body until you had to carry them.

“Fuck! He is heavy dude!” Jia cursed under her breath, unable to hide the suffering of carrying Jimin all the way up to the 5th floor to Jungkook’s apartment.

“He doesn’t seem like–,” You were about to trip and fall, but adjusted yourself quickly. “yeah, he is heavy.”

The knock on his door wasn’t too loud as you made sure not to woke any neighbors up 2 in the morning.

You heard a groan along with some footsteps before the door swung open in front of you and you wished that you wouldn’t saw what you’d saw.

There was Jungkook, naked and standing in his full glory. Thank God, he had a sweat pant on.

You immediately looked down out of respect and…well, shyness? Because the way your cheeks heat up was embarrassing. You were flustered and you hoped, no one noticed.

Jungkook made a surprised gasped and scrunched his brows out of confusion, “What are you guys doing here at this hour? I- wait, is that jimin?”

“Yes!! Now help us, dummy.” Jungkook grabbed Jimin’s arm but not before shooting a glare at his sister’s direction, gave her a look of ‘you better shut the fuck up.’

He took jimin from you two and carried him like his weight was nothing, held him like a feather. Before the three of you could reach out to the sofa, you saw Taehyung came out of another room.

“What’s going on in the middle of the night?” His deep voice was an octave lower, clearly he was in his dreamland. With a scowl, he rubbed his eyes and looked at his very drunk friend, “Wait – Is that jimi– Is he dead?” He dramatically gasped.

“No. But, tell me, are you two…gay?” She asked them quietly, made it more dramatic by her expressions. Her mischievous eyes shifted to Taehyung from Jungkook, then again on Jungkook.

Taehyung gave a glare at her direction, no words left from his mouth. The poor guy just woke up at the middle of the night and accused of fucking Jungkook. You held your laughter back, didn’t wanted to make it more chaotic than it already was.

“No– I mean you look like you just had a rough night and–,”

“Jia, will you shut up?” Jungkook’s voice was stern, as if he was holding himself back. His sister knew how to get on his nerves, for sure.

Ignoring the fact that she was about to bring scolded by her elder brother, she took the responsibility and filled him up with the information.

“We were at this bar and we saw Jimin there…lying on a couch. The owner was searching for his friends but, since they weren’t there, we took him here.” She chirped, feigning innocence as if she didn’t just called her brother gay.

Jia decided to met you at this famous bar, again you went along with the idea even though you knew the fact that, you won’t be able to drink anything.

At least you liked the ambience of the bar, until you found a very drunk blonde haired guy laying on a couch, almost knocked out. The owner was literally about to kick him out if it weren’t for you and Jia arrived at the right time.

“He was supposed to join us.” Taehyung shook his head in disappointment, letting out a huff, he walked over to Jimin who was finally knocked out on Jungkook’s couch. Following Taehyung’s lead, you sit beside Jimin, scrutinizing his face for any discomfort he might had.

Your gaze briefly flickered towards Jungkook, caught him staring at you, before he quickly averted his eyes towards Taehyung. You knew, it wasn’t anything you might had thought of, but the way your stomach flipped over wasn’t something normal.

“What you guys were even doing?” Jia asked exaggeratedly, squinted her eyes at both men in front of her suspiciously.

Yes, Jungkook and Taehyung was like brothers since they were in high school, probably saw shits of each other which might had never been seen by anyone, their bromance was top-notch but that doesn’t allow people to question about their sexuality. You knew, Jia was just joking and probably pulling her brother’s leg off and besides, Jungkook has a girlfriend. Or so, had.

They might broke up, but the possibility of him having feelings for her was strong, because of the dance you two had that night at the club. No person who doesn’t had any feelings for their ex would did such thing to just made them jealous. He doesn’t said that, he doesn’t had to, it was all clear in his eyes or so you noticed.

[slut4abs]

Vi meets your parents for the first time except, things dont go wonderfully.

CW: VixFem!Reader, reader has religious parents, they are immigrants, homophobia, angst, maybe part two???

AN: SORRY YALL THIS IS MY FIRST EVER WRITING AND VERY SELF DIVULGENT IF YALL HATE IT IM SORRY IF YOU LIKE IT UM.. lmk .///.

___________________________________________

"I'm like... 75% sure this will go well, babe. So don't even worry about it!..." You murmured to a nervous, sweaty Vi.

Today, she will be meeting your parents. And no, it's no biggie- only that, she's metting thE PARENTS OF THE GIRL SHE'S BEEN IN LOVE WITH FOR MONTHS.

No big deal.

But of course Vi was nervous, she had to make a good first impression. She had to make sure she was the perfect girlfriend tonight (not that she wasn't already, but she often gets in her own head). She would be polite, uber punctual, and ever so graceful. Now, you knew your parents would love her, I mean, who wouldn't.

And no, you weren't worried about them disliking her one bit. What you WERE worried about, however, was your parents' mindset.

You had been out for a while now, loud and proud and unashamed. Everyone knew about it, you would scream it from the rooftops. Everyone knew, including your parents. Your orthodox and quite religious parents.

Being the chill 21st century parents they were trying to be, your parents weren't actually too strict. They let you wear whatever, do whatever and honestly, you loved it. However, they ARE after all 1st gen immigrants, who cared deeply about their religion, but above all, you.

That's why you thought it would all go well. Smooth sailing. Maybe with a small bump here and there.

.

.

.

Vi made sure to dress as sharply as possible, busting out her year-old dress shirt in an effort to impress your parents. She trembled as she rang the doorbell, though you tried to soothe her by rubbing your thumb against the back of her hands as you held hers tightly (a little nervous yourself).

They invited you in as you greeted them enthusiastically, motioning Vi to follow suit. You guys all arranged yourself around the table as you and your mum began to serve the food. And for the most part, it went well. Your parents were impressed with what Vi was doing in life, managing both Uni and a demanding apprenticeship as an enforcer in Piltover. And she was polite and charismatic, funny but respectful. You were beyond overjoyed that your parents seemed to love her.

Until, you and your parents left Vi at the dining table to put away the dishes, squeezing into your parents' tight kitchen. "She seems lovely, dear..." your mother started, and your eyes lit up immediately.

"Actually yeah, Mum, Dad, I need to tell you guys someth-"

"Well she kind of looks like a.. lesbian.." your dad continued, interrupting you mid-sentence. Your heart drops.

"C'mon be nicer.. What we mean to say is, she's sweet and all but.. we don't think you should be around people like that, honey..." Your mother held your hands gently, as if she couldn't see your heart shattering in your chest.

"People like what. Mum." you bit out, trying not to let them get to you and knowing they would come around eventually.

"It's just that," your dad started, "you have a very bright future sweetie. Soon you'll graduate Uni, ready to set off and find a great job and maybe evn your future husband-"

"Dad-"

"All I'm saying is, people like that don't usually get far in life. It isn't easy being.. one of them."

"I don't understand, i thought you loved her." You started to raise your voice,not realising Vi standing by the door right behind you.

"And we do, it's just that-"

"No mum.. i. I've heard enough. You've said enough. I thought that after all these years, you guys would finally come around and understand that this is a part of me. That that girl literally carries a piece of my soul in her hands and takes care of it so gently, that i couldn't imagine as much as breathing without her. I'm not being quirky or playing a prank, you should know that, because i love you guys too damn much to do that, but right now I'm just hurt. I- I think we're gonna leave now. Sorry.." You turn around, shocked to see Vi appear behind you, a grim look on her face and a million things dancing around in those damn misty eyes.

"I hope I'm not overstepping but... I know how much your daughter loves you. She won't tell you this, but she works extra hard on all her assignments to make you proud, she goes to sleep a little early on Fridays so she doesn't have to face the homesickness, she has a picture of your beautiful family on her desk and she... I don't know, I think she's beautiful and hard-working and gentle. And I understand if you think I'm not good enough for her, hell, i don't think i am either, but please. Never doubt how much she loves you and everything she does for you." Something shifted, your parents eyes grew softer but they did nothing to ease the tension in the room. Wordlessly and frankly hopelessly, you and Vi trudged back to you car.

.

.

.

"Soooo... that.. could've went worse.." Vi started, obviously noticing the tightness in your shoulders.

"FUCK VI, I don't get it! I've been perfect. I've never misbehaved or disrespected them because i know how much they do for me. I'm getting good grades, I have a loving partner who's also doing amazing in life, why.. Why can't they just..." Tears begin to stream down your face slowly, the heaviness in your throat fracturing your sentences.

"It's okay babe.. Let's just, head home for now." She sighed, hand in yours, softly rubbing her thumb against the back of your hand as you approached your shared accommodation.

___________________________________________

Part Two???

[reiderwriter]

🍷 Alcohol Free 🍷

Week 1 of my Playlist series! Inspired by Alcohol Free by TWICE.

Summary: You're the designated driver for half of your friends, and Spencer is the designated driver for the other half, so why do you feel so buzzed when you're around him? OR; taking every opportunity when you finally meet Spencer Reid for the first time ♡

Warnings: fluff, mentions of alcohol consumption, but reader and Spencer are both sober. A/N: Welcome to week 1 of the Playlist! I think we started with an absolute banger, and for such a fun, upbeat song with this, I had to make this a fluff (sorry to all my smut and angst enjoyed, please be patient 🫡). I hope you enjoy it! Don't forget to send me more song recs, as I'll be writing one follower chosen song fic per month 🥳

Check out my masterlist here~

“How much have you had to drink exactly, Pen?” You laugh as you watch her wobble back and forth, at her table.

“We started with champagne and wine. And then there was the cocktail round, so, a few margaritas here and there. And a mojito. Maybe a mimosa. I think a guy bought me a pint colada at the bar earlier,” her words were so sharp you almost couldn't believe she'd drank anything at all, but the fact that she said all this while swaying gently from side to side had you giggling at her antics.

“Don't forget the tequila!” Penelope's friend Emily groaned from the other side of the table then were gathered at, face already flat on the surface as if her hangover had already hit.

You'd been friends with Penelope for over a year now, so you were acquainted with all of the girls there, and had agreed to come and meet them on one of their girls nights out. You were never a big drinker though, so you offered to be the designated driver for the half of the gang that were committed to Uber-ing home.

They'd been drinking since the mid afternoon, and by the time you'd gotten off work and cleaned up for the bar, it was obvious that they were going to be a handful.

“Y/N, YOU'RE REALLY PRETTY, YOU KNOW THAT RIGHT?” JJ shouted from her seat beside you.

“Thank you, JJ, you already said that three times tonight. Maybe we should get you some water?”

“And so kind too, my princess in shining armour,” Penelope giggled.

For most people, being the only sober person on a night out was hell, but you found yourself enjoying it more and more as the years went by. Drunk women were so much like kindergarteners when they reaches a certain blood alcohol level, and you loved seeing what your usually serious and cool girlfriends would come up with.

You also wanted to make sure they stayed safe, and with the impressive list of multiple alcohols they'd just ingested, you wondered if you should be carting them off to the emergency room then and there.

“I THINK YOU'D LIKE MY FRIEND SPENCER. HE'S NERDY. YOU'D MAKE CUTE BABIES.” JJ was still shouting all of her words, despite the bar being relatively quiet and you almost did a spit take with your water as she kept on.

“Stop trying to marry Spence off, Jennifer.” Penelope giggled, over pronouncing JJ's name as if it were her first time ever using the word.

You'd heard a lot about this Spencer Reid since you'd become close with the girls at the table, and honestly, you were happy that JJ deemed you good enough for their Spencer.

From the sounds of it, all three of them nagged at him like elder sisters who found him endearingly annoying, and were fiercely protective of him. It made you curious.

“Are you seeing anyone, Y/N?” Emily asked, finally lifting her head up slightly, but in a way that made it look like it weighed 500 lbs more than usual.

“I'm not.”

“Why? You're smoking. Half the men in here have been circling your like sharks for the hour you've been here.” You laughed at that and pushed a bottle of water in Emily's direction again, encouraging her to take small sips of water.

“I'm being serious! I may be drunk beyond belief but this is a sober thought.”

“Emily, I love you, but none of these men are interested in me. I'm practically a spinster. I'm 27, I have no money and no prospects, yada yada, already a burden to my parents.”

“That was something nerdy, I know that was something nerdy, my Spencie Senses are tingling,” she quipped.

And as if right on cue, a quiet voice popped up from behind you and all the hairs on your neck stood on edge as it happened.

“It's a quote from the 2005 Pride and Prejudice movie, so it's not really all that nerdy, Emily.” You turned, slightly startled in your seat as you finally met the elusive Doctor Spencer Reid.

“SPENCE!” JJ cheered, and the other girls similarly whooped at his entrance. They were overjoyed, but you were slightly overwhelmed, because not once in their descriptions of Spencer Reid had they ever told you that he was quite possibly one of the hottest men to ever grace this good Earth.

His hair was slightly curly, a mess of waves flopping into his eyes, but shorter on the sides, highlighting his sculpted jaw. He was tall, on the lean side and craning your neck to look up at him was a happy experience to say the least.

He greeted his friends and looked down to you, and you felt all the blood suddenly rush to your brain when your eyes locked. Dear God.

“Spencer, this is Y/N, my wonderful, gorgeous, single and attractive friend. Say hello, Spencer.”

“Hello,” he gladly followed the instructions Penelope gave him, and you practically giggled at the sound of his voice. Giggled.

“Hello. I'm the wonderful, gorgeous, attractive Y/N,” you waved at him slightly, but your brain wouldn't stop thumping around as you enjoyed the sight of the man.

“Penelope actually told me about you before. You're working at the indie bookstore near Café Density, right? Castle Books? I got a first edition of T.S. Eliot’s Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats there a few months ago.”

“You!” You gasped the word, as a garage of words fell from your mouth in a stream. “You bastard, I was saving for months to buy that thing, and three days before my paycheck I turn up and it was gone! Oh my god, how does it smell? Are the pages mustard yellow or still A little white? They never let me touch it because I almost burst into tears every time I got close.”

To your astonishment, he didn't recoil from your spitfire speech, but laughed happily.

“It's great, the illustrations are amazing. I didn't know someone else had their eye on it when I went in, I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologise for finding treasure. You'd be a horrible pirate if you did that.” You brain really wasn't connected with your mouth anymore and you resisted the urge to turn and bolt away from the discussion.

“Thank you? I'm not a pirate, but I think that was a compliment.”

“See, nerds made in heaven, JJ was right.” The panic built up again slightly and you were sure your brain was going to explode with all the heat that was flooding to your face.

“What's JJ right about?” Reid inquired, and you almost grasped your chest to stop your heart from beating out of it when he cocked his head to the side.

You hadn't had a lick of alcohol the entire night, and yet you're entire body was reacting like it was drunk on Spencer Reid.

“Oh just that you and Y/N here would make beautiful-”

“BEAUTIFUL CONVERSATIONS HAPPEN.” You quickly cut Penelope off, sending her a warning look that was less subtle than just straight up telling her to shut her mouth.

“Can we go now?” Emily dropped her head to the table again as she threw out the words, looking suddenly three shades greener than she was a moment before. “I think that last shot was the drink that broke the camel's liver, and I'm the camel.”

You passed her the water again and slowly started to help your friends gently gather their things, noticing that Spencer was doing the same.

No wonder these girls were so protective of him if this is how well he treats them. He was their coworker, but he would have absolutely been confused for a filial son for any of the three women as he helped them each.

“Where do you live, Y/N?” He asked casually as you both helped the women out of the bar and into the fresh air. “My car is a bit small, but we can throw these three in the back together and they'll mostly sleep until they get back to their homes.”

“Oh no, you don't have to do that, I can go by myself-”

“I can't let a drunk woman go home by herself, Penelope would give me hell in the morning.” This earned a few giggles from the women beside you. You thought you heard Emily mumbling “some profiler he is,” under her breath as well.

You hesitated. You should've been explaining that you hadn't had anything to drink yet, that you actually drove here yourself and that your car was likely parked right by his. You should've offered to take at least one woman off his hands for the night to share the burden of making sure your friends didn't die.

But it was true that each of the women was likely to completely pass out when they got into the car, like newborns being rocked to sleep by their mothers. And that left Spencer Reid free for conversation.

“Thank you, that would be really nice, actually,” you smiled and followed the man to his car, lugging your wonderfully buzzed friends behind you.

[yyokkki]

Hiiii~ any headcannons on how we meet/court/rizz/woo malleus or kalim? Or even trey?

Hii!! You're my first writing request!! I'm sorry it took this long though, this trio in particular are hard to write for me,, 100000 character analyseseses later and I'm finally done TT Trey's is kinda mid cuz I'm actually so blank rn but I hope you don't mind!

---

Your mere existence is enough-

Jk jk, to be totally honest with you, even though I love the Malleus Otome Game allegations I don’t think he’s even considered you like that-

For one, you are first friend and rather than romance he’s more focused on the platonic bond you have.

It’ll take some time for him to see you as a romantic interest, most likely after he manages to befriend others at NRC.

Once that hurdle is passed, we can get to the wooing phase >]

He’s someone who has a very limited knowledge on human customs beyond what he’s learned in Biology class so you’d have to make a trip to the library to read up on fae courting rituals.

Offerings. Lots and lots of offerings. Ice cream, precious jewels, pretty rocks, basically anything you think is nice.

He’ll be quick to catch on.

I do think it’ll take some time for him to accept your feelings. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be in love and he can’t tell if his heartbeat speeding up whenever you’re around is because you’re his best friend or the love of his life.

That’s where peepaw Lilia comes in!

The self-proclaimed master of love himself!

He probably got impatient and decided to just speed things up by having the love talk with Malleus 50 years ahead of the schedule.

(Lilia is really cheering you two on. He’s grown on you as an individual and sees the genuine care you two have for each other.)

Malleus dates to marry, (It was straight up marriage before so thank Lilia) so he brings up the topic of royalty and its duties and dangers. 

He understands if you back out but if you stay? Prepare yourself, for when a Draconia falls, they never climb back out.

Now, making Kalim Al-Asim fall for you is no easy feat. It’s easy to have him like you, sure! But love?

He’s accepted that his future marriage will be arranged by his parents, and he plans to make the best out of it!

But if one day he discovered his smile got a tad brighter around you than anyone else?

Kalim is full of hope but he isn’t innocent or dumb. He knows how he feels and he knows what would happen if he were to act on said feelings. 

Your life would be in constant danger to the point that one day you might come to hate him and he dreaded that possibility.

So instead of running into your arms, he keeps his distance. It’s not obvious enough for you to notice but he keeps himself steadily behind a line.

To earn his love is to earn his trust.

Trust that you’d never make yourself unhappy just for him.

Trust that you won’t be burdened by his emotions.

Trust that you’d always appreciate his existence.

Trust that he doesn’t need to do anything grand to keep your love.

Trust that no matter what, you’d never be able to hate him.

Trey hates conflict. So much of his life is based around avoiding it.

But after Riddle’s incident he’s come to realise that letting something stew for too long will make the pot boil over.

Thus, someone who balances him out, knowing when to act to stop a problem in its tracks would be a godsend.

Someone who despite his ‘normalcy’ loves him for him. Not the completely average student, the kind and caring vice dormleader of Heartslabyul or the dental obsessed freak. Just Trey Clover. For all that he is.

Besides that, he’s always had a longing for domestic bliss. Icing wiped onto noses, matching aprons and the like.

If you were willing to live that out with him it would be all he needed.

While he does enjoy the occasional flirt, wooing him is as simple as that. Calling him out, loving every part of him and savouring the treats he’d made with you in mind.

Next thing you know, you’re receiving ulterior motive cupcakes every week!

[choikanghuening]

Beyond the Doors (or simply “Stay”)

now playing: Stay - Rihanna ft. Mikky Ekko

synopsis: Beomgyu, a charming idol, and you, a confident and independent woman with a mysterious allure, are completely different. As your paths cross, your connection clicks and deepens in unexpected ways, despite the challenges and risks that come with it. Navigating a world where appearances matter, you find yourselves questioning what you’re willing to sacrifice for something real.

pairing: idol!beomgyu x afab!reader

trope: forbidden/secret lovers to exes to lovers (what can i say...)

genre: angst, smut (mdni)

wc: 14.9k (i got carried away)

warnings: tw: major character accident, not proofread, feat. the rest of txt, the name Minji is used here, lots of drama, lots of flashbacks (alternating with present), alcohol consumption (just a glass of wine), fingering (f receiving), protected sex (yay), Imk if i forgot anything (i prob did)

elle speaks: you ask and you shall receive. this is the second part of Hidden Doors (or simply Hotel/Mil Veces).

elle speaks²: english is not my first language, so sorry for any typos and mistakes. also im too distracted, so i probably repeated lots of words. i'll correct it later. feedbacks/reblogs/likes are appreciated.

elle speaks³: it's a long one bc I tried to answer some of your questions and develop their relationship. i don't think you necessarily need to read the first part, but it would mean the world to me if you did 🥺 👉🏻👈🏻

fic below the cut

Present

The studio is buzzing with the kind of electric energy that comes with high-profile luxury brand photo sessions. Photographers are shouting commands while light meters are changed, hairstylists are adding finishing touches, and assistants are juggling clothing racks. The space is bustling with activity. You are at the center of it all, holding a clipboard and speaking steadily in the middle of the commotion.

You have established yourself as a highly sought-after fashion industry producer by organizing extensive photo shoots for some of the most well-known luxury brands. After being given the amazing chance to work with one of Korea's most prominent fashion publications, you relocated to the country in your mid-twenties, having previously lived abroad. After three years, you've made your mark in this fast-paced environment despite the flurry of adjustment and hard work.

You are well-known for your exacting diligence and your capacity to remain composed and confident in the face of the most challenging circumstances. You live by yourself in Seoul, juggling the demands of living so far away from home with the highs of your career achievements. Although it's a difficult profession, you enjoy the challenge and constantly plan ahead to make sure everything goes smoothly.

“Minji, check the accessory tray for Look Three one more time. The gold cuff and the sunglasses are non-negotiable. Lee, we're going to fall behind if the lighting shift isn't finished in two minutes,” you remark calmly and crisply into your headset.

Authority emanates from your presence. These intricate productions are orchestrated by you as a producer, much like a maestro leads an orchestra.

A junior assistant flies by with a look of panic on her face. “YN! The strap broke on the gown for the next setup!” You instantly reach out a hand.

“Give it to me.” The strap hangs uselessly as the assistant hands over the fragile fabric.

You grab a needle and thread from an emergency bag and squat at a neighboring desk. Your hands have years of practice and move with accuracy.

With anxiety, the assistant hovers. “Will it hold? The designer will—

You politely interrupted her. “It will hold. Calm down.” As you complete the repair, your attention remains fixed.

You give it back, your eyes steady. “Take it to the cosmetics department. We are now back on track.”

The assistant nods, her face displaying awe. “You're fantastic, YN.”

As the gown enters the model's body, the photographer looks over. Astounded, he asks, “You fixed that?”

“Part of the job.” You shrug.

He chuckles. “You might want to start your own crisis management company if you ever get bored here.”

Although you smirk slightly, you don't answer and go straight on to the next task. You must ensure that the shoot ends on schedule; any delays are unacceptable.

Catching your attention, your phone beeps. A notification flashes on the screen: New message from Beomgyu.

“Same time tonight?”

You smile, remembering the first time you met as if it were yesterday. You weren’t starstruck, but there was definitely something magnetic about him.

Flashback

The crew was fighting to hold things together on a chaotic set, and it had been one of those crazy productions where everything seemed to happen at once.

When Beomgyu arrived at the stage, you were fixing an unforeseen lighting issue. He moved with effortless elegance, but there was a hint of hesitancy in his manner, as if he wasn't totally at ease with all the attention he was receiving. His dark hair framed his face with ease, and his keen features might have captivated anyone, but you had been drawn to his quiet shyness.

Another delay had been brought on by a wardrobe problem in the middle of the well-organized mayhem. You immediately stepped in when the stylist lost a tie, as you always do.

“Here,” you had said in a steady but gentle voice, holding the tie out to him with a no-nonsense calm.

Beomgyu blinked, taken aback for a moment by your bluntness. As he took it, his fingers touched yours. With his voice hardly audible above a whisper, he had murmured, “Uh, thanks.”

You gave him a modest but sincere grin and said, “You're welcome,” before turning to leave.

Present

As you finish up the last elements of the day's shoot, you settle at your desk and listen to the constant hum of the office. The never-ending stream of tasks weighs heavily on your mind, but for a split second, your focus is diverted by your phone's buzzing, which briefly interrupts the continuous flow of your thoughts.

It's a photographer's text, but then you see Beomgyu's, which is now hours old. A tiny smile forms on your lips, which you promptly conceal behind a business mask. Naturally, you've already seen it, but you neglected to respond.

Beomgyu differs from the other people you work with. Most idols never stop performing and contributing to the spectacular show. However, he always has a certain silence and a certain timidity about him, regardless of how much attention he receives. You don't often see it, especially in the world you live in every day. And it's… revitalizing.

“Yes, I can’t wait.” With a swift reply and a straightforward affirmation, you put your phone back in your bag and resume the stack of work that awaits you.

Flashback

As the photo session went on, Beomgyu's eyes kept coming to you. You were aware of it, yet you continued to study your clipboard and the task at hand.

Despite the commotion of the team, he still stood there looking a little uncomfortable, as though he were waiting for something.

You were navigating the set when he came up, hesitant but resolute.

“You're really good at this,” he murmured softly, surprising you with the compliment. Your face softened as you looked up.

“I try my best,” you replied, offering him a friendly smile and a trace of experience in your voice—something that came from years of managing chaos like this. It was clear—this wasn’t your first shoot.

Just as you started walking away, he spoke again, the words almost spilling out before he could stop them. “So, where are you from?”

You paused, surprised by the question, but there was a moment of hesitation before you answered with a casual smile, “I’m from overseas. I came to Korea for an opportunity, and… long story short, here I am.”

Beomgyu tilted his head slightly; his curiosity piqued. “That’s very… bold,” he said, his voice thoughtful but gentle.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh, really?”

He shifted uncomfortably, as if he realized he might’ve said something too forward. “I meant it in a good way,” he added quickly.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly; the sound was light and genuine. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The conversation was short, but the air between you was thick with something unspoken. Beomgyu watched you for a moment longer, the curiosity in his eyes still lingering, as if he hadn’t quite figured you out yet.

Present

As the activities of the day wrap up hours later, you step outside, and the cool evening air greets you, brushing your skin and easing the tension of the day. The streets of Seoul hum with life, neon lights flickering in the dark as the city’s energy pulses around you. For a moment, you just stand there, inhaling deeply, feeling the heartbeat of the city sync with your own.

Your thoughts go to Beomgyu again. When you first met, he seemed so out of place, like a deer caught in headlights—unsure, polite, and navigating the chaos with a quiet grace. There had been something about him that made you linger a little longer than you should have.

And now, months into this affair, he’s a completely different person—mature, confident, and undeniably captivating. The boy who once seemed so awkward and uncertain has become a man who commands a room with just a glance. You’ve seen sides of him you hadn’t expected—sensual, caring, thoughtful. Every moment with him leaves you wanting more, even if he’s unsure all the time. Not that you cared. You just want him.

Flashback

During a break, you found yourself observing him more intently. Beomgyu’s every movement was deliberate, his demeanor polite and unassuming. Yet there was an undeniable charisma in his presence. He had a way of filling the room with an energy that didn’t demand attention but still managed to capture it.

After changing for the next round of the shooting, Beomgyu approached you, his steps measured. “Thanks for the tie earlier,” he said, his voice soft and sincere.

You glanced at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. His reserved nature stood out, and there was something disarming about it. “Don’t mention it.”

He smiled in return, the warmth in his expression lighting up his eyes even in the dim afterglow of the set. “I mean it. You are helping me more than you realize.”

You tilted your head slightly, intrigued despite yourself, though you quickly masked it. “Helping you? How?”

Beomgyu hesitated for a moment, a slight shift in his posture as he searched for the right words. “It’s just… with everything, you know?” He gestured vaguely to the crew packing up around them. “I don’t know how to explain; it gets overwhelming. But today, things are organized… you make it seem so easy.”

You studied him for a moment, something in his eyes catching you off guard. You quickly composed yourself, professional as ever. “I’ve been doing this for a while,” you said, your voice steady. “But trust me, it’s never easy.”

He nodded thoughtfully, with a quiet gratitude in his gaze. “Maybe that’s exactly what makes you so good at it.”

You chuckled softly; his sincerity took you by surprise, and for a moment, you wondered what it would be like to let your guard down with him. But you pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the role you had to play. “Well, we all have our strengths,” you said, offering him a nod. Your eyes met his for just a fraction longer than usual before you turned back to your work.

As you continued with your tasks, your thoughts kept drifting back to him—his quiet observation, his soft words, the way he seemed to make the chaos around you feel just a little more… still.

Present

As you enter your apartment, the day's exhaustion settles heavily, but your thoughts remain fixed on Beomgyu. You don't even bother turning on the lights, letting the dimness match the hum of your restless mind. Heading straight to the bathroom, the cool air brushes against your skin, grounding you momentarily.

The sound of water fills the silence as you step into the shower, the heat easing the tension from the day. Steam rises around you, droplets tracing paths down your skin as your thoughts return to moments spent with him.

Afterward, you towel off, the chill air raising goosebumps. You pause, considering what to wear tonight. A sense of determination rises as you settle on a deep red dress—sleek and form-fitting, with a daring neckline balanced by its sophisticated cut. It exudes confidence, commanding attention without trying too hard.

At your vanity, you apply makeup with precision: a flick of eyeliner to define your eyes and a soft nude lip, keeping your look understated yet striking. A spritz of your favorite perfume leaves a warm, subtle trace in the air as you smooth your hair, ensuring it falls perfectly. The clock catches your eye—it's time. Wrapping yourself in a white overcoat, you grab your car keys and step into the night.

Your phone buzzes; a message from Beomgyu lights up the screen:

“Are you on your way?”

A small smile forms as you type a quick reply:

“Yeah. See you soon.”

Driving through the city, you feel the familiar rhythm of these evenings. For Beomgyu, they’re an escape from the pressures of fame; for you, a break from your own demands. There’s an unspoken understanding between you—no strings, just moments stolen from the chaos of your lives.

Pulling into the hotel parking lot, you step out into the crisp night air. Your heels echo against the pavement as you approach the warmly lit lobby. Everything about this is routine now: the elevator ride, the quiet hum as you ascend, the anticipation sharpening with each step toward the suite.

At the door, you pause, the weight of expectation briefly stirring something deeper, then push it aside. You unlock the door and step inside, where the rest of the world falls away. Here it’s just the two of you, free from the complications of everything left behind.

Flashback

Later, as the shoot ended, Beomgyu lingered near the exit, his gaze following you as you gathered your things. You caught his eye and raised an eyebrow, sensing his hesitation.

“Something you need?” You asked, your tone calm yet still sharp, a subtle challenge in your voice.

He hesitated, a bit unsure, before finally speaking. “I just wanted to thank you again,” he said, his voice sincere, his posture slightly awkward as he scratched the back of his neck. “You made everything seem so effortless today.”

You gave him a small, knowing smile. “You really don’t have to thank me so much. It’s my job.”

Beomgyu smiled in return, but there was something more behind it. He paused before reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small paper bag.

“Here,” he said softly, his voice almost shy, as he handed it to you.

You raised an eyebrow in surprise. “What’s this?”

“It’s just a little something,” he replied, glancing away briefly before meeting your eyes again. “A treat from a café down the street. Thought you might like it.”

You took the bag, intrigued. Inside, you found two beautifully packaged pastries, still warm. The rich aroma wafted up, tempting your senses. You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as you glanced at him. “I didn’t take you for the type to bring food gifts.”

Beomgyu chuckled sheepishly. “I’m not, usually. But you looked like you might be hungry.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze softening. There was no pretense behind his gesture—just a genuine, simple thought. It felt real. “Thanks. I truly am,” you said, your voice quieter than before, as your eyes lingered on him for a beat longer than necessary.

Beomgyu smiled, the warmth in his eyes deepening. He stood there for a moment, unsure of how to respond. “I felt really at ease today… and that’s thanks to you,” he said, his voice almost unsteady.

You smiled back, a knowing grin tugging at your lips. “That’s what I’m here for,” you replied, your tone playful yet matter-of-fact.

Beomgyu chuckled, the last of his nervousness fading. “Seriously, though, you’re really good at this.”

You crossed your arms, a slight smirk on your face. “It’s not that I’m really good; it’s that most people aren’t,” you said, looking at him as if he should already know that by now. “You’ve done tons of shoots. You should’ve figured that out already.”

He laughed softly, his posture relaxing, feeling more at ease now that the shoot was over. “Yeah, I guess I have,” he said, with a smile that was both genuine and a little shy.

As you turned to leave, you heard him call out your name. “YN, right?”

You stopped and glanced back, an eyebrow raised. “Yeah. Why?”

He took a breath, his voice steady despite the slight smile still on his lips. “I just… I’ll remember it,” he said, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary.

Your smile deepened, though you kept your expression neutral, a playful glint in your eye. “You better,” you replied, before walking away. The sound of his soft laugh lingered in the air, a quiet moment between you as you disappeared from the set.

Present

The hotel room feels too quiet; the familiar luxury is now heavy with something else. Beomgyu stands by the window, gazing out at the city's endless glow. His breath fogs the glass as he leans against it, running a hand through his blonde hair. The soft hum of the heater in the background only amplifies the buzz of his thoughts. He checks the clock again—still early.

His phone buzzes on the nightstand. His heart stutters when he sees your name.

“Just parked. Be there in two.”

Beomgyu lets out a slow exhalation, his thumb hovering over the screen. He sets the phone down without replying. The room suddenly feels smaller, as if your presence is already here, pressing in on him. Why does it feel different tonight? Anticipation? Unease? It’s not the first time you've met like this, but something about tonight feels heavier.

The soft sound of the door opening breaks through his spiral. He freezes, his pulse racing as he moves to answer it.

You enter the room, shutting the door. Your overcoat goes to the hanger, and he notices the way your red dress hugs your frame. You’re not smiling, but there’s that quiet confidence in your expression that always unsettles him.

“You’re early,” you say. Your perfume lingers in the air, intoxicating and sharp, filling the space between you both.

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting,” he replies, his voice low and strained.

Your lips quirk into a faint smirk as you set your bag on the armchair, glancing at him over your shoulder. “You look tense.”

“I’m fine,” he says too quickly, his hands twitching at his sides.

You turn fully to face him, your eyes scanning him with that knowing look that makes his chest tighten. You step closer, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Every step you take is deliberate, sending a current of electricity through the space between you.

“Liar,” you say, your voice soft but firm.

Beomgyu clenches his jaw, glancing away, as if that will hide him from you. But you won’t let him. You never do.

“Something on your mind?” you ask, tilting your head slightly, your voice taking on a teasing edge as you close the distance.

He hesitates, his mind racing for a response that won’t betray him. “It’s been a long day,” he says finally, but even he doesn’t believe it.

You laugh softly, low, and throaty. The sound wraps around him, pulling him deeper. “I’m not here to interrogate you, you know.” You reach out, your fingers grazing his arm in a fleeting touch that burns more than it soothes.

“I know,” he mutters, his eyes flicking to yours.

Your gaze lingers, sharp and probing, before you give a small shrug and turn away, heading toward the minibar. Beomgyu lets out a breath, a momentary reprieve, but it doesn’t last long.

“So,” you say casually, pouring yourself a glass of wine, as if you were old friends catching up. “What now?”

Beomgyu hesitates, the question hitting harder than it should. He doesn’t have an answer. His stomach churns as he watches you, so composed, so unaffected.

“I don’t know,” he admits finally, his voice quieter than he intended.

You glance back at him, your expression unreadable. Then, setting the glass down, you step closer again, closing the gap until you’re just inches away. Your fingers lightly brush against the fabric of his shirt, sending a jolt through him.

“Don’t think so much,” you murmur, your breath warm against his neck.

Beomgyu’s breath hitches as you lean in, your lips brushing his in a kiss that starts soft, testing. His hands hover at your waist, unsure whether to hold you or maintain the distance he’s promised himself. But the pull of you, the feeling of you, is impossible to resist. And the tone of your dress only sparks a memory he really doesn’t need to remember right now.

Flashback

The lively hum of conversation and laughter filled the magazine's gleaming lobby, the celebration in full swing. Glasses of champagne caught the light as they clinked together, a subtle symphony beneath the energetic beat of the music. The walls were lined with glossy spreads displaying the magazine’s highlights, including the striking cover featuring Beomgyu himself. It was supposed to be his night—a chance to revel in the success of the shoot and bask in the admiration of his peers. Yet his mind wandered far from the festivities.

At a sleek black table near the center of the room, Beomgyu’s friends—Soobin, Yeonjun, Huening Kai, and Taehyun—were mid-conversation, their laughter rising above the crowd.

“Man, you killed it in that shoot,” Yeonjun said, raising his glass with a smirk. “Everyone’s calling it the ‘Rebel Beomgyu Era.’ Iconic, really.”

Beomgyu’s lips tugged into a faint smile, but the usual spark wasn’t there. His eyes darted around the room, scanning for her in the sea of faces.

“Beomgyu, you good?” Soobin asked, noticing the detachment.

“Huh? Yeah,” Beomgyu said, his response automatic. He took a sip of his drink, hoping to ground himself, but his gaze betrayed him, flickering toward the far side of the room.

There you were.

You stood near a cluster of staff, chatting. Your scarlet dress seemed to draw the glow of the room toward you, like you were the center of its orbit. Beomgyu couldn’t look away. Your confidence wasn’t just visible—it was palpable. You moved with a grace that felt untouchable, your laughter cutting through the hum like a melody just for him.

As if feeling the weight of his gaze, you glanced over your shoulder. Your eyes met his for a fleeting moment. You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a small, knowing smile, before turning back to the conversation. The gesture was simple, but it lit something inside Beomgyu—an undeniable pull that made the rest of the room blur into insignificance.

Huening Kai nudged him, snapping him back. “Earth to Beomgyu. What’s got you so distracted?”

“Nothing,” Beomgyu muttered, shifting in his seat. He tried to focus on the banter at the table, but his grip on his drink tightened, his pulse quickening with every second. He resisted the urge to act.

Moments later, you excused yourself from the group, weaving through the crowd toward the exit. Beomgyu’s chest tightened as he watched you slip through the bustling room, your red dress vanishing toward the lobby doors. You weren’t grabbing another drink or heading for the bathroom. You were leaving.

His chair scraped against the floor as he abruptly stood.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” Taehyun quipped, raising a curious eyebrow.

“Bathroom,” Beomgyu mumbled, the lie slipping out as he avoided his friend’s gaze.

He didn’t wait for a response; his feet were already carrying him through the crowd. Each step felt heavier, his heart pounding as he followed your retreating figure. The celebration continued around him, but it all felt distant.

Beomgyu wasn’t sure what he’d say when he caught up to you. All he knew was that he couldn’t let you leave without trying.

Present

The present surges back with intensity as Beomgyu gives in completely, his arms tightening around you as if you’re the only thing grounding him in the moment. The kiss is no longer just a meeting of lips—it’s a surrender. His fingers press into the curve of your back, desperate, unwilling to let go, as though holding you closer might silence the storm inside him.

You respond in kind, your own desires matching his. Your hands tangle in his hair, nails grazing his scalp, a deliberate pull that sends a shiver down his spine. You know the effect you have on him and lean into it, your breaths mingling in the heated space between you. For a moment, there are no questions, no doubts—just the undeniable pull of your bodies answering the unspoken call.

“Beomgyu,” you murmur against his lips, your voice low and teasing but edged with something darker, something that hints at how much you crave this too. You tilt your head slightly, deepening the kiss; your movements are deliberate, drawing him further under your spell.

He breaks the kiss briefly, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing uneven. “This is…” he begins, but the words falter as his gaze locks onto yours. His eyes are searching, conflicted, and unsure.

“This is what it always is,” you finish for him, your fingers sliding down to trace the line of his jaw. “And you always come back.” Your words are calm, almost detached, but there’s a challenge in your tone—a reminder that he’s here because he wants to be.

Beomgyu swallows hard, his grip loosening just slightly, though his body refuses to fully let you go. “I…” he trails off, his chest heaving as he tries to pull himself together. Every time he’s with you, it feels like stepping off a cliff—thrilling, terrifying, inevitable.

Your lips quirk up into a small, knowing smile, and you lean in close again, your voice soft but firm. “Don’t overthink it, Beomgyu. We both know why we’re here.”

He closes his eyes for a beat, the weight of your words settling over him. When he opens them, there’s a mix of longing and restraint in his expression. But then your hands move, invading his shirt with a slow, purposeful intention, and the last of his resolve crumbles.

Without another word, he captures your lips again, this time with even more intensity. The tension, the hesitations, the unspoken truths—all of it melts away in the heat of the moment. In his arms, the chaos of his world fades, replaced by something he can’t quite define but can’t resist either.

For now, at least, the consequences can wait.

Flashback

The hallway beyond the main party area stretched out like a quiet sanctuary, offering a reprieve from the swirling chaos of the celebration. Muted laughter and the faint thrum of music faded as Beomgyu moved through the corridor, his footsteps light against the polished floor. The air felt heavier here, the dim lighting casting soft shadows that mirrored the unrest in his chest. He hadn’t meant to follow you—it was reckless, impulsive—but something about you called him—a pull he couldn’t resist.

He turned a corner, and there you were, leaning casually against a stone pillar at the end of the hallway. The glow from the wall sconces bathed you in warm light, catching the subtle shimmer of your dress and the faint curve of your lips. You were on your phone, fingers trailing idly along the hem of your skirt, your posture relaxed, almost languid. You hadn’t expected anyone to find you here, least of all him.

The faint flicker of surprise in your eyes melted into something more amusing as you noticed him standing there, caught in your orbit. You straightened slightly, your lips quirking into a half-smile. “May I help you?” you asked, your tone light, teasing, but your gaze sharp, curious.

Beomgyu froze. Words, excuses, plans—all of it evaporated in an instant, leaving him standing there, exposed. “I…” His voice faltered, the weight of your attention making his pulse race. “I wanted… I just—”

“You just…?” you prompted, your head tilting slightly as you studied him, a playful edge to your smile.

His nerves were on fire, but there was no malice in your teasing. It felt like you were testing him, daring him to say more, to step closer. Every instinct screamed at him to walk away, to retreat before he did something foolish. But your presence, the way you seemed so completely in control while his world tilted on its axis, rooted him in place.

“I just wanted to say that you are stunning tonight, and I can’t stop thinking about you,” he blurted, his voice soft but trembling with the weight of the confession. The air between you thickened as the words hung there, raw and unpolished, leaving him exposed in a way he wasn’t sure he could recover from.

For a moment, your expression shifted, your eyes widening almost imperceptibly. Then your smile returned, slower this time, your amusement giving way to something more deliberate. “And what are you gonna do about that, Beomgyu?” you asked, your voice low and laced with challenge.

The question hit him like a jolt. His breath hitched as he searched for your gaze for an answer, but words failed him. The pounding in his chest drowned out every coherent thought, leaving only the unbearable pull toward you.

Before he could think, before he could talk himself out of it, he closed the space between you. His hands found your waist, tentative but firm, and then his lips were on yours. The kiss was far from perfect—eager and messy, driven by weeks of suppressed desire. It was a collision of pent-up tension and impulsive need, his heart hammering in his chest as the rest of the world faded away.

You stiffened at first, your body frozen in surprise, but then you softened. Your hands slid up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his blazer as you pulled him closer. You matched his urgency, your lips moving against his in a rhythm that felt both natural and electric. The kiss deepened, the intensity building with each passing second, until you were both breathless, clinging to each other as if the hallway itself had vanished.

When you finally broke apart, Beomgyu’s chest heaved, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His lips tingled, and he could feel the heat rising to his face. He searched for your expression, desperate for some sign of what you were thinking, but you were as unreadable as ever.

You touched your lips lightly, a soft chuckle escaping as your gaze locked onto his. “Well,” you said, your voice low and laced with amusement, “that wasn’t what I expected tonight.”

Beomgyu opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came. His mind was a whirlwind, and the only thought he could hold onto was how impossibly close you still were.

You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, holding it out with a teasing smile that carried an undertone of sincerity. “Here,” you said, your tone light but pointed. “Let’s exchange numbers. Maybe next time, you’ll know what you want before chasing after me.”

He hesitated, your words playful yet unsettling, like a challenge he wasn’t sure he could meet. Slowly, he took the phone from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch that ignited a heat he couldn’t suppress. His grip felt unsteady as he tapped in his number, the weight of the moment making every action seem heavier. When he handed it back, you slipped it into your bag with effortless grace, an ease that only heightened his own awkwardness.

Without missing a beat, you plucked his phone from his hand and entered your number, the slight smirk on your lips sending his heart racing. “Don’t take too long,” you said, your voice carrying an edge of both warning and invitation. With a final wink, you turned on your heel and strode away, your steps deliberate and assured, each one pulling his attention like a magnet.

Beomgyu stood frozen, the faint scent of your perfume lingering in the air. His heart was still racing, his lips still tingling. He had crossed a line he hadn’t even realized he was approaching, and there was no going back now. Whatever he had started here, it was far from over—and the thought both thrilled and terrified him.

Present

The room hums with a quiet tension, every breath between you both heavy with unspoken words. Beomgyu's hands gently trail along your back, each gentle stroke sending a shiver through him as he pulls you closer. The sensation of your skin against his fingertips is intoxicating, almost like he is trying to memorize every curve, every inch of you. His lips brush against your neck, light and soft, sending waves of warmth and electricity through your body; the warmth of his touch lingers long after, and the softness of your skin beneath his mouth made his heartbeat quicken. Every part of you felt so real, so tangible at that moment, and yet the swirl of conflicting thoughts in his mind threatened to pull him away.

Was he ready for this? Could he handle it? The questions came and went like fleeting shadows. But he tried hard to keep them buried. Now wasn’t the time. Not when everything about you felt so pure, so magnetic.

You let your fingers slide through his hair, tugging him closer, the heat of his body drawing you in, the rhythm of his breath synchronizing with yours. His chest tightens, and for a second, you both just stay there, as if trying to decide what comes next. The pull between you is undeniable, the way you both seem to breathe in sync, but there's a vulnerability in his eyes, something unspoken.

His gaze never leaves yours as he carefully undresses you, each movement thoughtful, as if he's afraid of breaking something precious. The weight of the moment presses down on you, but there's no fear, only the quiet thrill of being seen like this. When your dress falls away, leaving you in nothing but a delicate lacy black underwear, Beomgyu's eyes darken, his dick pulsating inside his trousers.

He can’t stop himself from leaning in, his lips brushing across your right nipple while his fingers play with the left. You just grab his hair strongly and moan. After swapping his mouth and fingers between your hardened nipples, he pulls back. His breath is shaky, but his words come out like a whispered confession.

“You look…” His voice falters slightly, thick with sincerity. “Incredible.”

You meet his gaze, the rawness in his words settling over you. You feel yourself getting wetter and bit your lower lip, lost in desire.

“Every inch of you,” he says, his fingers gliding along your waist, then dipping lower, reaching your inner thighs, his eyes locking with yours. “It’s like I’m seeing you for the first time all over again.”

Your breath is caught in your throat when his fingers start caressing your clit. You feel like you’re on fire as he fingers you in a gentle way. The intensity of his gaze, paying attention to your every reaction, makes you want him more. His fingers move to your hole and caress you lightly there.

“So wet for me,” he says, his voice low and sensual, making you roll your eyes in pleasure. “I love your reactions.”

His heart pounds in his chest as his fingers invade your pussy, thrusting with a reverence that almost startled him. You almost scream with pleasure, moaning loudly in his ear, which makes him smile. With his free hand, he holds you by your waist, helping you to stay on your feet as you lose yourself in his deliberate touch.

As the heat of the moment burns between you both, memories of your first night together crash into him. The way he’d kissed you then, the way you’d kissed him back, the rawness of that night… It felt like a lifetime ago.

Flashback

The hallway had seemed endless as Beomgyu walked, each step heavier than the last. He had told his friends he was stepping out to visit his mom—a lie he had convinced himself was necessary, but he knew the truth. He was heading toward you, toward the one person who had been consuming his thoughts for far too long. His stomach churned with both desire and fear, the pull between wanting you and doubting everything growing stronger the closer he got to the door.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, a sudden distraction from the storm brewing inside him. He pulled it out quickly, his heart skipping when he saw the simple message: “I’m waiting for you.”

Of course, you were. You were always waiting. He had reserved a room in the fanciest yet most secluded hotel in Seoul, under the name of Ben, to avoid any suspicion and meet you. Now, there was nothing left but to face you—face everything you two had built in the silence and secrecy. But the reality of it—the intimacy, the risk—felt overwhelming.

Beomgyu’s hand trembled as he gripped the door handle. There was no need to knock. He had the key, the access, but still, he hesitated. His breath was shallow, his mind filled with doubts and questions. The door creaked open, and there you were.

The room was dim, shadows stretching across the floor, the air thick with tension. You stood by the bed, your eyes locking with his, unblinking, unwavering. Beautiful. Unfazed. Waiting.

His throat went dry. He couldn’t move. The weight of it all crashed down on him, but still, you remained calm and poised. You knew what you wanted. You were steady, unlike him, who was spinning in circles in his own mind.

“Hi,” your voice was soft but confident, carrying the weight of everything unsaid between you. You weren’t questioning yourself. You weren’t hesitating.

“Hey,” Beomgyu replied, his voice rougher than he had meant it to be. His heart was pounding in his chest as he stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. And still, there was a distance between you, an invisible wall he wasn’t sure how to break.

You tilted your head slightly, the corner of your lips curving into that familiar smile. It was small, but it held something far deeper—something he had always seen in your eyes. You weren’t rushing, or pressing him either. You were just there, waiting for him to meet you halfway.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your voice quieter now, as if you could sense his hesitation.

Beomgyu swallowed hard, unable to speak for a moment. The questions choked him, tangled up in his throat. “I… I don’t know,” he finally said, his chest tightening with each word. “I’m not sure if we should be doing this, you know?”

The words felt foreign on his tongue, unsure, as if saying them might make everything real. But you neither pull away nor retreat. Instead, you moved closer, your hand brushing against his chest, sending a shock of warmth through him. The simplicity of your touch grounded him in the moment and reminded him that there was no need for words, no need for all the confusion in his mind.

“Then let’s figure it out together,” you said, your voice steady, unwavering. You weren’t concerned about the future. You were here now, with him.

Present

When he can’t take it anymore, he removes his fingers from you and throws you into bed. You just laugh, amazed by how he loses control when you are together. You couldn’t want anything better: he is stunning, charming, sexy, and knew how to use his mouth, fingers, and his long and thick dick that makes your mouth water whenever he gets naked.

His hands find the hem of your underwear, quickly freeing you from that piece of clothing. Your gaze is dark, filled with desire, which makes his dick ache inside his pants. “You don’t know how much I want to…”

“Want to what?” You tease, your voice low but dripping with challenge.

Beomgyu hesitates for a moment, unsure if he should let his thoughts slip, but then he just smiles. There is no use denying it now that you are fully naked in front of him, almost begging for some action. “Want to fuck you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You prop yourself up on your elbows and give him a daring look. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Smirking, Beomgyu gets up to remove his clothes and grabs a condom in his pocket, tearing it open with his teeth and rolling through his length. He doesn’t waste any more time and positions himself, invading you in a hurry.

The pull is undeniable, and as Beomgyu moves to kiss you again, he realizes it isn’t just the physical attraction or the heat building between you—it’s something deeper, something more. The uncertainty remains, but for now, it’s drowned out by the quiet intimacy you share at this moment, your bodies speaking their own language.

Flashback

You moved first, stepping toward him, the space between you shrinking with every breath. Your fingers brushed his arm, sending a shiver down his spine, and the air grew heavier, more charged. “You look good,” you whispered, your voice thick with something more than just a compliment. Beomgyu swallowed, his heart racing as he leaned in, closing the distance between you. His lips brushed yours, tentative at first, like a question without words. But when you responded, warm and eager, he knew.

Your kiss deepened slowly at first, but then it turned urgent, as if you both could no longer hold back. Your hands moved with practiced ease, sliding beneath his shirt, tracing the lines of his skin, your fingertips grazing his muscles like you were memorizing every inch of him. Beomgyu’s breath hitched, his own hands trembling slightly as they moved to your waist, pulling you closer. The heat between you grew, the world outside the hotel room seeming to fade into nothingness.

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, your gaze intense and unwavering. “So, are you gonna fuck me or not?” you teased, your voice husky, full of challenge. Your fingers tugged at the collar of his shirt, and without a second thought, he helped you pull it off, his movements desperate but eager.

The air between you crackled as your bodies collided, the intensity of your touch making everything else fade into the background. Your hands slid to the waistband of his jeans, slow but deliberate, each movement a promise. Beomgyu’s chest tightened, his heart racing, as he kissed you again, deeper, more urgently.

He murmured against your lips, “Are you sure?” But you didn’t answer with words—only with another kiss, one that swept him away, drowning out every doubt. There was no room for hesitation now, no space left for uncertainty.

As you fell into bed, naked, things felt lighter, simpler, and easier. Every touch, every kiss, every movement brought you both closer, the tension thick in the air. And as you finally gave in to the pull and to the heat between you, the world outside the room disappeared entirely.

Nothing mattered except the rhythm of your bodies, the feeling of your skin against his, and the undeniable certainty that you were both lost in this moment together.

Present

“Oh, Gyu, faster!” You moan, pulling his hair. He simply obeys, thrusting quicker, biting his lower lip to your sight, completely covered in sweat and at his mercy.

At this moment, the world outside the hotel room, the doubts, the uncertainty—everything—fades into the background. There is no fame, no fans, no company, no magazine, no tasks. It’s just the two of you, tangled in each other, your bodies moving in sync, as if you were one, your hearts racing in time with the beat of something unspoken.

Beomgyu’s voice breaks the silence, thick with emotion. “You have no idea how beautiful you are,” he murmurs, his words making your chest tighten in an unexpected way. “It’s not just your smile… but the way your eyes light up when you look at me… It’s everything.”

The weight of his words settles over you, and you feel something warm unfurl inside you, something you haven’t allowed yourself to acknowledge until now. You moan louder, your hands moving to the back of his neck, pulling him into another kiss, slow and deep. Beomgyu follows your lead, his mind drifting to how easy it is to get lost in you and how the weight of his doubts seems to fade when he is with you.

Breaking the kiss, your breath becomes more erratic, and you plead for more, and he knows you are close. He massages your clit again, and it is too much for you. You explode, digging your nails on his back, which makes him hiss and lose control, filling the condom with his cum.

--

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Beomgyu lets himself fall deeper into your world, where you guide him effortlessly, showing him what it means to let go. For a while, he forgets about everything else, losing himself in the way you touch him and the way your body responds to his. It’s all too easy to get lost in you. But as the hours slip away, and he finds himself tangled in the sheets beside you, something shifts.

He watches you, your breathing steady and peaceful as you sleep, your bare shoulder glowing softly under the pale light spilling through the window. He can’t help but marvel at how you seem to have everything figured out. You’re everything he’s not—fearless, confident, unapologetically yourself. The complete opposite of him.

And yet, even though everything in him wants to stay, to surrender completely to the pull between you, his mind begins to spiral again. He doesn’t belong here. He can’t stay. The reality of his life is looming just outside the warm bubble you two have created together. It’s not that he doesn’t want you—it’s the opposite, in fact. He wants you in a way he can’t explain, in a way that scares him, because he knows what it means to let himself feel this much.

But he can’t. He can’t let this go on any longer. He has to leave.

The thought cuts through him like a cold blade, and he feels a pang in his chest. It’s almost unbearable. The idea of walking away from this, from you, feels impossible. But he can’t stay. Not when he knows what the consequences would be. Not when he’s already risking too much just by being here.

Beomgyu glances at you again, your features soft in the dim light, your body so close to his. Every instinct in him is screaming to stay, to keep holding on, but his mind knows better. You deserve more than this. You deserve someone who can be with you fully, without hesitation, without the fear of what’s coming next. And he’s not that person. Not in the way you need him to be.

He sits up quietly, the movement careful, trying not to disturb you. He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze lingering on you one last time.

A part of him wants to wake you, to tell you everything—to explain the battle raging inside him, to explain why he feels like he can’t stay. But he can’t bring himself to do it. Not yet. Not when everything is so raw, so uncertain.

Beomgyu sighs heavily, rubbing his eyes, trying to push away the guilt creeping in. He’s made up his mind. He has to leave.

But as he swings his legs over the side of the bed, preparing to stand, the weight of it all presses down on him. He stops for a moment, sitting in the quiet, the sound of your breathing the only thing he can focus on.

For a second, he wonders if he could just stay a little longer. If this moment could last. But no. He knows that’s not possible. Not in his world. Not in the life he’s built.

The room is still dim when you stir, soft light filtering through the curtains. The warmth of the bed beckons you back to sleep, but the space beside you is cold—empty.

You sit up slowly, brushing your hair away from your face. The rustling of fabric catches your attention, and you find him across the room, standing by the window, already dressed. His fingers fumble with the buttons of his coat, the movement deliberate but strained. His posture is rigid, like he’s bracing himself for something.

“Beomgyu,” you call softly, breaking the silence.

He pauses, still facing away from you, then slowly turns. His expression is guarded, but his eyes… His eyes betray him, full of hesitation, of something raw and vulnerable.

“I’m leaving,” he says, each word heavy, like he’s been carrying them for too long. “For good this time.”

You look at him for a long moment, but you don’t feel anger, not even sadness—just a hollow space where something used to be. Something you no longer recognize.

“I see,” you reply, your voice even, almost distant.

Beomgyu takes a step toward you but stops just short of the bed. His voice cracks as he tries to explain. “I can’t keep doing this, YN. This… whatever this is between us… it’s not sustainable. The secrecy, the lies, pretending it’s okay when it’s not—it’s eating me alive. I’m scared of what it’s doing to us, to me.”

You don’t interrupt, though his words fall heavy around you. You let them sink in, and you nod slowly, your eyes steady. “If that’s how you feel.”

His confusion deepens, a rush of desperation in his chest. “You… don’t have anything to say?”

You take a breath before replying, your gaze unwavering. “What’s the point, Beomgyu?”

The words hit him harder than anything else could. He wants you to fight, to pull him back, to make this hurt less for both of you. But there’s nothing from you—just acceptance, a quiet that makes his heart shatter.

“You’re not even going to argue?” His voice is almost pleading now. “You’ll just… let me go?”

You stand slowly, walking toward the window, leaving the space between you untouched. You’ve always fought for him, but as he stands ready to leave, you realize this was never truly yours to hold onto. Letting him go isn’t surrendering—it’s accepting the truth: he was never meant to be yours.

“You made your choice,” you say quietly, not looking back at him. “I won’t make it harder for you.”

His throat tightens. Every word you’ve said, every moment of silence between you, weighs on him. He doesn’t know what to say anymore. The words are stuck in his chest, useless now. He’s already hurt you too much to ask for anything else.

Beomgyu steps forward, but his feet feel like they’re rooted to the ground. “YN, I—”

“If you’re leaving,” you interrupt, your voice flat, “just go.”

“YN…” His voice cracks, but you don’t turn. You don’t move. You just stand there, looking out at the pale light of morning creeping through the window, letting the weight of his departure settle in.

“Goodbye, Beomgyu.” Your voice is steady, but it carries a finality that cuts through him.

He lingers a moment longer, hand on the door handle, but there’s nothing left for him to say, nothing to undo the damage. He takes one last look at you—at the calmness, the quiet resignation in your posture—and leaves.

The door clicks softly behind him, and you stand by the window, your heart pounding in the silence. You don’t cry or shout. You just stand there, letting the world move on, knowing that this chapter has ended.

--

After Beomgyu left, you stayed in the hotel room longer than you planned, the cold, empty bed feeling like a void you couldn’t escape. You stood under the shower for what felt like hours, letting the warm water cascade over your motionless body. Your forehead pressed against the cool tiles as you irrationally hoped the water could rinse away the heaviness inside you. But it couldn’t.

When you stepped out and caught your reflection in the fogged mirror, you barely recognized the tense, tired expression staring back at you. You wrapped a towel around yourself, your fingers trembling slightly as you picked up your phone. A reminder blinked on the screen—a client meeting in two hours. You swiped it away with a frustrated sigh. Work was the only thing you could control right now, and it was what you would focus on.

By the time you reached your office, the city had shaken off its sleep, and the bustling energy matched your hurried steps through the glass doors.

“Morning, YN,” your assistant, Minji, greeted you with a warm smile, handing over a folder. “Here’s the client proposal. Also, Mr. Park moved your meeting to 3 PM.”

“Thanks, Minji,” you replied, flipping through the pages without really seeing them.

“Rough night?” Minji asked playfully, eyeing your slightly ruffled appearance.

You forced a smile. “Something like that.”

The day passed in a haze of tasks—emails, back-to-back meetings, design reviews, and putting out fires caused by an unreliable supplier. Your colleagues moved around you with curious glances, sensing your unusual quietness but knowing better than to pry.

Even as you powered through your responsibilities, your thoughts betrayed you. Beomgyu’s face surfaced unbidden—his playful smirk, his uncertain eyes, the softness in his voice when he’d said your name for the last time. Each memory was like a small knife, sharp enough to remind you of what you’d lost, but not enough to distract you completely.

A few days later, the rehearsal studio hums with activity, but for Beomgyu, it's as if the world has slipped into a muffled roar. His body is there, but his mind is miles away, stuck at that moment—walking out the door, leaving you behind. He rubs his face, still feeling the sting of it—the hollow emptiness that settled in his chest when he walked away. Nothing is the same anymore.

“Beomgyu, focus!” The choreographer’s sharp voice slices through the fog of his thoughts, yanking him back to the present. The music stops suddenly, and Beomgyu blinks as the silence seems to swallow the room. “What’s going on with you?”

“I—sorry,” he stammers, his voice thick with exhaustion. His hands tremble slightly as he wipes the sweat from his forehead. He’s not sure if it’s from the workout or something much deeper. He runs through the steps in his head, but everything feels… wrong. Off. His body refuses to cooperate.

His bandmates exchange concerned glances. Soobin is the first to step forward, offering him a water bottle wordlessly. It’s a quiet gesture, a silent understanding between them. But Beomgyu can’t return it with his usual ease; the weight of his emotions is too heavy to mask.

“You okay?” Soobin asks, his voice low, measured, like he can feel the storm brewing just beneath Beomgyu's calm exterior.

“Yeah,” Beomgyu mutters, taking a long drink of the water, but the lie tastes bitter on his tongue. “Just tired.”

“You're more than tired,” Soobin says, his gaze sharpening. “You're uncoordinated, out of focus.”

The staff approaches, their eyes piercing, ready to demand answers. “What’s going on?”

Before Beomgyu can speak, Yeonjun steps in, sensing the tension rising. “We all had a rough night,” he says, his tone even but commanding as he glances at the staff. “Construction near the dorm kept us up. Let’s take a break and reset.”

The staff hesitates, sizing them up before reluctantly nodding. “Fine. Beomgyu, don’t let it happen again.”

Beomgyu feels their gaze linger on him as they disperse. He’s the one out of sync, the one causing the delay. The emptiness settles back into his chest as he sits on the floor. The sound of his own heartbeat echoes in his ears, drowning out the noise of the world around him. He doesn’t know how to escape from this.

In the days that followed his departure, you made a silent vow to yourself: you’ll stay late at the office every day, working until exhaustion drowns out the thoughts of him. The office becomes your refuge, a place where you can bury yourself in work, enough to keep the nagging ache in your chest at bay. The hours bleed into each other as you throw yourself into spreadsheets, meetings, and design revisions.

By the time the office empties and the city lights begin casting long shadows across the room, you’re still at your desk, your mind buzzing with tasks.

“You’re still here?” Minji’s voice breaks the silence, her concern clear in her soft tone.

You don’t look up. Your fingers continue to move over the keyboard, steady but mechanical. “Just finishing up a few things,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

Minji hesitates, studying your posture. “Don’t overdo it, okay? You’ll burn out.”

You force a smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, Minji. Goodnight.”

She nods and leaves, and the quiet returns, heavy with the weight of your solitude. The silence in the office presses down on you, suffocating, but you stay where you are. Leaning back in your chair, you close your eyes and exhale a long, slow breath. You don’t want to go home, so you bury yourself in work again. You don’t allow yourself to think, not for a single moment. It isn’t until your stomach growls, protesting the hours without food, that you glance at the time. 11:45 PM.

You gather your things and step into the cool night air, the chill brushing against your skin like a reminder of the world beyond your desk. The streets are eerily quiet as you slide into your car, the hum of the engine a familiar comfort. The drive home should be peaceful—empty streets and the steady rhythm of the road beneath your tires. But your mind won’t let you rest.

Why does it hurt this much?

You grip the steering wheel tighter, your knuckles turning white as memories of him flood back—his hand in yours, the fleeting vulnerability in his eyes, the regret in his voice when you parted.

Your phone buzzes on the passenger seat, dragging you from your thoughts. You glance at it, your heart skipping a beat. It’s not from him. You know it won’t be, but the automatic reflex to check, to hope, lingers. The screen lights up with a new message, but your hope fades quickly. It’s just an email—a distraction, but nothing more.

In that split second, your car hits a slick patch of road.

The tires screech, the car swerves violently, and your heart races in panic. Everything happens so fast—too fast. The world tilts sideways, your grip on the wheel futile against the forces that take control. And then, with a sickening thud, the crash comes—a violent collision of metal against metal, glass shattering around you, the deafening sound of impact filling your ears.

Then, silence.

The world stills. The weight of your emotions, the hum of your thoughts, everything you’ve been running from, fades into nothingness as darkness envelops you.

The dorm door creaks open, and the group shuffles inside, their usual laughter and banter replaced by a heavy, uneasy silence. Beomgyu’s shoulders slump as he kicks off his shoes, his bag dropping with a dull thud near the door. He barely manages a glance at the others before he collapses onto the couch, his hands covering his face. Exhaustion and frustration mix, pooling together like a storm inside him.

“Alright,” Soobin says, his voice cutting through the stillness as he shuts the door behind him. “Spill.”

Beomgyu groans, muffling the sound in his palms. “It’s nothing. Just a bad day.”

“Bullshit,” Yeonjun cuts in, his arms crossing tightly, eyes narrowed in that knowing way. “You’ve been zoning out for weeks. Since when do you miss steps?”

Kai leans forward on the edge of the coffee table, his expression serious. “Are you sick?”

The air is thick, everyone waiting for him to speak. But Beomgyu doesn’t know where to begin. The weight of their stares presses down on him. After what feels like an eternity, he exhales a shaky breath. His hands fall to his lap. His voice is quieter than usual, fragile. “No. There’s… someone,” he admits, almost inaudible.

Four pairs of eyes widen in shock, the sudden admission hanging in the room, thick as smoke.

“Someone?” Soobin repeats, disbelief lacing his tone.

Beomgyu nods, keeping his gaze down. “We’ve been seeing each other. In secret.”

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing at his lips. “Secret, as in ‘fans-can’t-know’ secret? Or ‘scandal-level’ secret?”

“Both,” Beomgyu mutters, the weight of it all evident in his voice, a heavy burden that sinks deeper with each word.

Taehyun leans in, his voice steady, cutting through the tension. “Who is she? And why all the secrecy?”

Beomgyu hesitates, running a hand through his hair. His mind races, but his chest feels tight. Finally, he looks up, meeting their eyes, and for the first time, he lets his guard down. “She’s a producer. We met at a magazine shoot.” A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugs at his lips. “She’s… amazing.”

The room falls silent as they process his words, the quiet intensity settling over them like a thick fog.

“Go on,” Yeonjun presses, leaning forward, his voice a mixture of curiosity and something more.

Beomgyu’s smile deepens, and for a moment, the weight on his chest lightens. He speaks more freely now, almost with reverence. “She’s a bit older than me, but she’s so beautiful. She’s confident, blunt, and incredibly smart. The first time we met, she didn’t treat me like an idol.”

Kai smirks knowingly, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Let me guess—she shut you down?”

“Completely,” Beomgyu admits, a genuine chuckle escaping him. “She was so professional that I was really impressed. And she’ll always make me forget about the world.”

“I see,” Taehyun observes, his voice a mix of amusement and curiosity. “And I assume you like that?”

“I love it,” Beomgyu says, the admiration clear in his voice. “She doesn’t care about the fame or the cameras. With her, I can just… be.”

Soobin’s expression softens, but there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes—the quiet worry that’s been with him all night. “If she makes you this happy, why are you falling apart?”

Beomgyu’s smile fades, the weight of the truth pulling him back down. His shoulders sag, the pressure of his own vulnerability heavy in the air. “Because it’s a mess. If anyone finds out, it could ruin everything.”

Yeonjun rubs his temples, the gravity of the situation settling in. “Damn, Gyu. But if she’s worth it, isn’t it better to fight for her?”

Beomgyu’s voice cracks, his next words barely more than a whisper, the raw emotion slipping through. “I don’t know,” he admits, his heart laying bare.

Kai reaches out, his hand resting on Beomgyu’s knee, a quiet gesture of solidarity. “You’re not alone, Hyung. We’ll figure this out together.”

Taehyun nods, his voice firm but understanding, the calm anchor in the chaos. “But you need to decide what you want. If she’s this important to you, you have to find a way to make it work.”

Beomgyu glances around the room, seeing the unwavering support of his friends, and something in his chest loosens just a little. “Thanks, guys. Really.” His voice cracks at the end, and he quickly clears his throat.

Soobin offers him a soft smile, his eyes filled with understanding. “We’ve got your back, Gyu. Always.”

Just as the silence lingers, a buzz cuts through the air. Beomgyu jumps, his stomach lurching as his phone lights up with an unknown number. His heart races. He swipes to answer, a knot of unease tightening in his chest.

“Hello?” He answers, his voice strained, almost panicked.

The voice on the other end is muffled, but there’s urgency in it. “Hello, is this Mr. Ben?”

Beomgyu’s mind races, that sinking feeling in his stomach growing heavier. He knows that name. Ben is the alias he used to rent the room. Only you knew about it.

“Yeah. Who is this?”

“This is Daewon Medical Center. We’re calling about a woman who’s been admitted to our facility. She listed you as her emergency contact.” The nurse’s voice is rushed and clipped. “There’s been an incident. A car accident.”

Beomgyu freezes, his breath catching in his throat. “Is she… How is she?” The words feel foreign in his mouth, the panic rising in his chest.

“We need you to come down here and provide more details,” the nurse continues, urgency mounting in their tone. “Please, come immediately.”

Beomgyu’s mind is reeling. He feels the blood drain from his face. His voice barely escapes him, shaken and weak. “I’ll be there.” He hangs up quickly, his hand trembling as it falls to his side.

For a moment, everything stands still. His friends are silent, their eyes wide, waiting. The room feels impossibly heavy.

“What happened, man?” Taehyun asks, his voice low, the concern unmistakable.

“YN,” Beomgyu’s voice cracks, his face going pale. “She’s in the hospital. She was in a car accident.”

“Oh my God,” Kai whispers, his voice trembling. “Is she… is she okay?”

“I don’t know,” Beomgyu chokes out, his eyes wide with terror. “I don’t know if she’s okay. I need to go to the hospital.”

Without waiting another second, Beomgyu grabs his coat, his movements frantic, almost desperate. His heart pounds in his chest faster than he can breathe.

Soobin is the first to move, his expression soft but filled with concern. “We’re coming with you,” he says, his voice steady, a quiet strength in the face of the storm.

Yeonjun is already moving toward the door, his teasing demeanor gone, replaced by a raw sincerity. “We’ve got you, Gyu. Let’s go.”

One by one, his friends follow, their steps synchronized with Beomgyu’s anxious heart. Every step feels like it’s taking him closer to something he’s terrified to face, but he knows he can’t face it alone.

You wake up in a sterile white room, the cold, harsh light above you making everything feel even more disorienting. Your head throbs, every pulse a sharp reminder of the crash. The beeping of machines and the low murmur of voices seems distant, muffled, as if you’re underwater, disconnected from the world around you.

You try to sit up, but the sharp pain that shoots through your limbs forces you back down. The ache spreads, deep and heavy, making you feel like a broken version of yourself. Your vision blurs as you blink against the light, trying to make sense of everything.

The last thing you remember is the argument with Beomgyu—the harsh words, the cold silence, the way everything fell apart. Then, nothing. Just darkness. You close your eyes again, willing the weight of the pain, both physical and emotional, to fade, but it doesn’t. It’s as if the ache in your head grows stronger the more you think about it.

A nurse enters, her voice soft as she asks questions, but you barely hear her, your mind lost in the haunting thoughts of Beomgyu. The kiss. The way he left you hanging. Was he really gone for good? Could you ever get past this?

“Can you tell me your name?” The nurse asks again, her voice gentle but firm.

You blink, trying to focus, your thoughts still cloudy. “YN,” you whisper, your voice hoarse and weak.

“Good,” the nurse says, writing something down. “Do you know what happened?”

Your heart sinks as you try to piece together the fragments of memory, but it all feels too far away, like sand slipping through your fingers. “I—I was in a car accident,” you murmur, the words small and distant.

“That's right,” the nurse replies. “You were brought in after midnight. There was nothing serious, but you'll need to stay here under observation.”

You shut your eyes tightly. You’re tired, your body is aching, and you just want the pain to end. You want to leave this sterile room and be anywhere else, anywhere but here—lost in a place where everything you’ve fought for has crumbled in an instant.

As your thoughts spiral, exhaustion pulls you under. The beeping machines, the nurse’s voice, the ache in your body—all blur together into a haze. You can’t fight it anymore. Your body is too tired, too broken from the accident, and from the emotional weight you’ve been carrying. Slowly, your breathing steadies, and the tension in your muscles begins to release.

Beomgyu’s heart pounds as he walks through the sterile hallways of the hospital, the weight of dread sinking deeper with each step. His friends—Yeonjun, Taehyun, Kai, and Soobin—follow closely behind, their faces tight with concern. They’re there for him, a quiet support, but their presence does nothing to still the frantic beating in his chest. The only thing on his mind is you: your face, your voice, and the crushing fear of losing you.

When he reaches your room, his breath catches in his throat. You lie still on the bed, your small frame framed by the soft hum of machines, the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor echoing in the silence. His body moves without thought, drawn to your side, but his heart is already breaking.

“Is she…?” Beomgyu’s voice cracks, turning to the nurse finishing her paperwork. She nods sympathetically, her eyes kind but professional, before stepping out, leaving him alone with you.

The room is too quiet; the only sound is the steady beep of the monitor and the soft shuffle of nurses in the hallway. Beomgyu stands there, rooted to the spot, his eyes never leaving your pale face. Each shallow breath you take seems too fragile, too tentative. It hits him then—this could be it. He could lose you. He has never felt more helpless.

Yeonjun places a hand on his shoulder, offering him a silent kind of support. “We’ll wait outside. Just… take care of her,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. One by one, they step out, leaving Beomgyu alone with you, the only person who’s ever truly seen him.

The door clicks shut behind them, and the silence becomes unbearable. His heart beats so loudly in his chest, it drowns out everything else. He can’t breathe, can’t think. His trembling hand hovers over yours, as though the simple act of holding your hand will anchor him to something real.

When he finally takes your hand, the warmth that lingers there shatters him. He had thought pushing you away was a way of protecting you, keeping you safe from the chaos of his world. But now, staring down at you, all those thoughts feel foolish. He’s terrified of losing you, and in doing so, he realizes he’s already lost you.

“YN…” His voice cracks, hoarse with emotion, each syllable slipping past the lump in his throat. He squeezes your hand tighter, desperate. “Please… please wake up.”

His chest tightens as he leans forward, resting his forehead against the edge of your bed. Tears fall freely now, his breath coming in ragged gasps as everything—the guilt, the fear, the regret—crashes down on him.

“I’m sorry,” Beomgyu whispers, his voice breaking. “I never should’ve pushed you away. I thought I was protecting you. I thought… I thought I could keep you safe, but all I did was hurt you.”

His fingers tremble, his grip tightening with each word. “I thought I was protecting us. If I stayed away… if I kept you out of my mess, everything would be okay. But I was wrong, so wrong, YN. I was just scared of how much I love you. I didn’t know how to handle it. And, to be honest, I still don’t.”

The rawness of his emotions overwhelms him, his voice cracking with each confession. “But I can’t hide anymore. I can’t hide from you, from what I feel. You’re the only person who’s ever really seen me. I’ve never been this vulnerable; never let anyone in like I’ve let you. And now, I’m just… scared of losing you. More than anything in my life.”

His breath hitches, his chest tightening with the weight of his confession. “I love you, YN. I love you so much that it hurts. And I’m so sorry. For making you feel like you didn’t matter. For letting fear get in the way of what we could’ve had. I was a coward. I thought I was protecting you, but I was wrong. And now… I don’t know if it’s too late.”

Tears fall faster now, each one carrying a weight of regret and guilt. Beomgyu wipes his eyes, but the tears keep coming. “I don’t care about the consequences anymore. I don’t care about the risks. All I care about is you. Please, wake up. Let me prove to you that I can be what you need and deserve. Please don’t let this be the end.”

He presses his face to your hand, as if holding on tight enough will pull you back to him. “I don’t know if you can hear me… But I just need you to know that I love you. I always have. And I always will.”

He cries quietly, his tears falling onto your hand, his heart laid bare in the stillness of the room. There’s no guarantee that you’ll wake up, no promise that everything will be okay. But all he can do now is confess his love and hope it’s enough.

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours as Beomgyu sits beside you, his heart pounding with every word he’s just laid bare. His voice wavers under the weight of his confessions. He had expected nothing—no response, no sign of acknowledgment. Part of him hoped you were asleep, lost in a peaceful dream, because the thought of facing rejection after everything felt unbearable.

But you remain still, your eyes closed, you're breathing slow and even. Beomgyu’s words hang in the air like a heavy mist, each confession a tender cut, yet you say nothing. Maybe you didn’t hear him. Perhaps the words were too much. Maybe he was just too late.

A sigh escapes him as he slumps in the chair beside you, the exhaustion of the moment taking its toll. He’d spilled his heart, and now uncertainty weighs on him like a brick. Will you laugh? Push him away?

And just when he begins to lose hope, he notices it—your hand. It moves—just a twitch of your fingers, but enough to make his heart leap in his chest.

“YN?” His voice falters, uncertain.

Your eyes flutter open, barely enough to catch the moonlight casting soft shadows on your face. You blink at him for a moment, and then, impossibly, a smile pulls at the corners of your lips.

“Well, if you’re done talking…” You murmur, your voice thick with sleep but laced with something mischievous.

Beomgyu freezes. “You… you heard all that?” His voice cracks slightly, more surprised than embarrassed.

You stretch, your eyes twinkling with humor. “I didn’t sleep through your grand speech, if that’s what you’re asking. Are you always this dramatic?”

His face flushes instantly, his heart still racing from the weight of his confession, but now heat rushes to his cheeks from pure embarrassment. “I… I thought you were asleep,” he stammers, his words tangled in the confusion of relief and discomfort. “I didn’t know what else to say. I thought I’d lost you.”

You sit up, propping yourself on your elbows, your grin widening. “Well, it’s a good thing I woke up, huh? For all the emotional confessions and declarations.” You wink at him, your teasing tone lightening the air.

Beomgyu stands there, caught between relief and awkwardness, unsure how to navigate this sudden shift. His mind is still reeling from the confession, but now there’s a new energy between you—one he wasn’t expecting.

“Are you… not mad?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper, uncertainty creeping back in.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “Mad? No, not really.” You pause, the playful edge in your eyes softening just a touch. “I just didn’t think you’d care this much. I didn’t think you’d be this honest.”

His heart skips a beat. “But… you’re not angry?”

“More like… frustrated,” you affirm, the weight of your words settling between you both. “When you left… I didn’t realize how much it hurt until later. I told myself I was fine, that it didn’t matter, but I was lying. I was upset. I was sad.”

Beomgyu’s chest tightens, his heart sinking. “You were sad?”

“Of course.” You nod slowly, offering him a faint smile. “I pretended it didn’t matter. But it did. It really did.”

The words hang there, unspoken for so long, finally finding their way out. Beomgyu reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours, the touch grounding him in the rawness of the moment.

“I didn’t know,” he whispers, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t know you cared that much.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of it all pressing on your chest. “Beomgyu, I never stopped caring about you.” The words feel almost too simple, yet they hold so much.

His eyes soften, the vulnerability in them making your heart ache. He doesn’t respond at first; he just watches you, as if letting your words settle into him. Then, finally, he speaks, his voice quiet but sure.

“I’ve been afraid too,” he confesses. “I didn’t know how to come back. How to tell you I never stopped thinking about you… that I never stopped loving you.”

A heavy silence follows, the unspoken truths filling the room like a melody. The distance between you two has always felt vast, but now, at this moment, it seems to shrink, drawing you closer with every beat of your heart.

“I’m sorry, YN,” Beomgyu whispers, his voice cracking with regret. “For everything.”

A small, sad smile tugs at your lips, and you reach up to gently touch his cheek, your fingers grazing the skin you’ve always known. “You don’t have to apologize. We were both just… trying to protect ourselves.”

Beomgyu leans into your touch, his eyes closing as he breathes in the softness of the moment. He takes your hand and presses it to his lips, kissing your palm with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he whispers. “I just didn’t know how to make everything right.”

You shake your head, your voice steady despite the swirl of emotions inside. “We can find out together.”

There’s a pause—a shared breath, a moment to let the weight of the confessions settle. The silence isn’t heavy now; it feels like a delicate thread connecting you both, fragile but real.

But then, to your surprise, Beomgyu breaks the tension with a quiet laugh, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “So, why am I your emergency contact?”

You blink, caught off guard, before a grin spreads across your face. “I put you there for fun,” you tease, enjoying the sudden lightness.

Beomgyu’s confusion only deepens. “For fun?”

You shrug, nonchalant. “Well, I don’t have family here, and you’re the last person who’d panic if something happened. So… I thought you’d be fine with it.”

Beomgyu blinks a couple of times, trying to process. “But I actually panicked when I got the call from the hospital.”

You laugh softly, a playful sparkle in your eyes. “Oops. Sorry, my bad.”

“I wasn’t prepared for that kind of responsibility,” he protests, his nervous laugh bubbling up. “You should’ve warned me, you know?”

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” You tease, your smile never fading.

“You really know how to keep me on my toes,” he admits, his voice soft but warm.

You smirk, a wink following. “What can I say? You make it too easy.”

The playful banter lingers between you, but as the laughter fades, the weight of the moment presses in again. Beomgyu's gaze softens, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to memorize every detail. The air feels warmer now, and the distance between you is almost nonexistent.

Without a word, he moves closer, his hand gently brushing against yours before he tentatively cups your cheek. Your breath hitches, the anticipation hanging heavy in the quiet space. His thumb strokes softly across your skin, and you close your eyes, surrendering to the warmth of his touch.

“YN…” His voice is barely a whisper, but it carries everything he's been holding back.

And before either of you can think, you both lean in, lips meeting in a tender kiss that speaks volumes. It's soft at first, almost reverent, as if the moment is fragile and new. But the deeper you sink into the kiss, the more it feels like something you've both been waiting for, something long overdue.

When you finally pull away, your foreheads rest against each other, your breath mingling, and neither of you moves to break the silence. There's no need for words anymore; everything is already said.

Time passes, each day flowing into the next, but this moment feels suspended—just the two of you, cocooned in this hotel room, far from everything that once held you apart. What started in secrecy, shrouded by uncertainty and fear, has now unfolded into something raw, something real. The past is behind you, and now there’s only the present, soft, quiet, and heavy with meaning.

You lie back against the pillows, fingers tracing the familiar lines of Beomgyu’s chest. The touch is subtle but speaks volumes—both of the comfort you’ve found in each other and of the unspoken understanding between you. But tonight, the question that has been hovering is finally voiced.

“So, what happens now?” Your voice is calm, though there's an edge of curiosity, of longing for something more. You’ve come so far, but there’s still that gap you need to cross.

Beomgyu looks at you, his gaze soft but filled with something deeper now. It wasn’t a question he expected, not after everything that’s happened, but now that you’ve both navigated the hardest parts, there’s no more avoiding it. No more pretending.

“I… I don’t want to hide anymore, YN,” he says, the words coming slowly but sure. “I don’t want to pretend this isn’t real. I’m not going to let fear stop me from being with you. Whatever happens—whatever the world says—I’ll handle it. I’m choosing this. I’m choosing us.”

The weight of his words settles in your chest, and for the first time in what feels like forever, a lightness fills the space between you. You’ve always known he’d reach this point. But hearing him say it, seeing his determination—it makes everything feel more real, more tangible.

“You’re sure?” you ask, your voice soft but steady. It's not doubt, not anymore, but a quiet understanding of what this means. “The world doesn’t always give us what we want. It’s not just about us. It’s everything that comes with it.”

He nods, a quiet certainty behind his eyes. “I’m sure. You’re worth it. All of it.”

Your smile grows, and the joy that fills you is quiet but deep. In the silence between you, it’s clear. You’ve built something strong, something unshakeable. And now, with this moment, with his choice, it feels like you’re stepping into something even more solid. The future is still unknown, but for the first time, you’re no longer afraid of it.

“We’ll handle it. Together. Whatever comes, we face it together.”

There’s no hesitation in your voice, just a calm, tender conviction that makes his heart swell. You believe in him, in both of you, in this—whatever comes.

Beomgyu smiles, a sense of relief washing over him, as if a weight he didn’t even realize he was carrying has been lifted. “Yeah. We will.”

The silence that follows isn’t heavy. It’s full of understanding. You both took a leap of faith. There’s no going back now, and neither of you is afraid.

You lean in first, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that’s soft, slow, and lingering. It’s a promise, a quiet understanding of everything you’ve chosen, everything you will face together. When you pull away, Beomgyu’s hand cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek, searching your eyes for any trace of doubt.

“We’re going to be okay, right?” His voice is quiet but sincere, filled with the kind of trust that makes your heart ache.

You smile, your eyes sparkling with affection and certainty. “We will be.”

And at that moment, you both know that the road ahead will be anything but easy. There will be obstacles and challenges. But together, you’ll face them. Because now, for the first time in so long, you’re not just surviving—you’re living together.

Beomgyu pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around you as you both settle back against the bed. The world outside might keep turning, keep shifting, but it doesn’t matter. You have each other. And that is enough.

Epilogue

The day Beomgyu decides to come clean about his relationship is chaotic, to say the least. It’s a decision he doesn’t take lightly, but one that he knows is inevitable. His team, however, is far from prepared. As soon as the news breaks, there’s a whirlwind of calls, meetings, and endless debates. His career, his image, the group’s future—they argue it all. But Beomgyu stands firm.

He’s aware of the risks. The fans, the media, the public—everything about his life will be under scrutiny. But for once, he refuses to let fear dictate his choices. This is his truth, his happiness, and he’s not going to hide it anymore.

Yeonjun, Taehyun, Soobin, and Kai support him all the same. They’ve seen the internal struggle he’s faced, and now they stand beside him, understanding that he’s choosing to be open, to face the consequences head-on. Despite the pressure, they rally around him, unwavering in their support.

After hours of difficult discussions, it becomes clear: Beomgyu’s decision stands. The agency will release an official statement.

--

“Hello, MOA, this is Beomgyu.

I’ve always tried to be open and real with you, and in turn, you’ve always shown me so much love and support. You’ve been with me through the highs and lows, and I can’t express enough how much that means to me.

Because you’ve always been so real with me, I want to do the same and share something important about my life. I’m in a relationship. It’s something that has brought me happiness and peace, and I want you to know that I’m truly content.

I understand this might come as a surprise to some, and there may be questions or feelings about it. But I want to assure you that I’m not sharing this to seek approval or to change anything about our connection. I’m sharing it because it feels right.

This relationship is something that makes me happy, and I believe it’s essential to be honest with you all, just as you’ve always been with me. I hope you can support me, as you always have, and understand that this is just another part of my journey.

I’m so grateful to each of you, and I’ll continue to give my all, not just to my work but to this connection I have with all of you. You’ve been my strength, and I’ll always be there for you, too.

Thank you for your understanding and love. I’m truly lucky to have you all by my side.

With all my heart,

Beomgyu.”

--

The aftermath isn’t easy. Rumors swirl, articles flood the media, and the scrutiny from the public is relentless. Yet through it all, Beomgyu doesn’t waver. And neither do his friends. Yeonjun, Taehyun, Soobin, and Kai all stand by him, united. They know his happiness comes first, and they’ve got his back, no matter what.

You are right there with them, offering the same unwavering support. You’re his rock in the storm, always grounding him. But you’re not just standing by him—you’re thriving in your own right. Despite the chaos surrounding your relationship, your career continues to soar. You lead new projects with the same passion and confidence that have always defined you. Whether you're presenting designs or making strategic moves, you do it all with an undeniable strength, showing the world that you’re as much of a force in your field as you are in your relationship.

Your resilience is contagious. Even in the face of media pressure, you handle it all with poise, refusing to let negativity seep into your life. You brush off the hurtful comments with the same humor and confidence you’ve always had, and your work only continues to flourish as you rise to the occasion, showing everyone that you won’t be defined by anyone else’s opinion.

At home, after long days of work, you still manage to keep things light. One evening, after yet another exhausting day, Beomgyu finds you lounging on the couch in your shared apartment. Your eyes are glued to your phone, a mischievous grin on your lips.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, his tone light despite the exhaustion in his voice as he walks over to you.

You look up, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh, just some hilarious tweets about me,” you say nonchalantly, your grin widening. “Mean ones, mostly.”

Beomgyu raises an eyebrow, concerned. “Why are you even reading that stuff?”

You shrug, unfazed. “Why not? It’s entertaining. People can say whatever they want. But at the end of the day…” You pause, your eyes locking with his. “I’m the one who gets this delicious man called Choi Beomgyu.”

Beomgyu laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re impossible.”

You lean into him, nudging him playfully. “Come on, you know you love it.”

Beomgyu’s laughter softens, the tension of the past few days fading with the sound of your voice. Your ability to find humor in the chaos is a reminder that you both will get through this, no matter what. You’re always there to lift him up when things feel heavy.

“I really do,” he admits, his smile genuine. “But I don’t want you to be upset with them calling you names.”

“Don’t worry, Gyu. I won’t be. I am what I am, and I don’t give a fuck.” With a mischievous grin, you meet his gaze, your confidence radiating. “After all, the mouth that’s eating me out is not complaining.”

elle speaks⁴: im not used to make second parts and this one demanded a lot from me, but i hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading ♡

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction created by me. the characters of TOMORROW X TOGETHER and the song mentioned are used for creative purposes only. this story is not affiliated with BigHit Entertainment or TXT, and all content is fictional and does not reflect reality. the song “Stay” is owned by its creators and used here without profit.

© CHOIKANGHUENING 2024. do not plagiarize, translate and/or post on any other site. minors DO NOT INTERACT.

[yoshikoooo]

WIND BREAKER HCS |

Featuring: Kaji ren, Sakura Haruka. Synopsis: You snapped. Similar to how Kaji snaps. Warnings: slight ooc, no established relationship, kinda long, violence ofc, mention of blood, overdose, a lil angst if you squinT.

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮Kaji ren✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮

He knows that. after all he have been through that. and still is going through that

Being childhood friends with kaji, he eventually knew that you had a monster inside you too. or maybe much worst than him..

it was one time when you guys were still in pre-school and you snapped at your classmate who was messing with your hair and that resulted to showing that side of you.

and that's where you guys found each other.

although you both have differences.

He uses candies and a headphones to block out the noises to stay human but you? you're a fucking monster who knows how to act sane enough.

you both hated that inhumane side, and with that similarities the both of you got along well.

He did sometimes question how you managed staying sane without any remedy and you simply looked at him blankly.

"Staying sane?" you chuckled softly "You assume I ever was."

and that's where it clicked to him. you were trouble.

you unknowingly met Kaji on the way.

"What are you doing here" the stick of his lollipop shifting between his teeth.

“A friend needed a little help,” you replied. The words felt hollow, you couldn’t bring yourself to explain. “Just wanted to return the favor.”

Your steps halted abruptly, your eyes widening at the sight before you—your friend, crumpled on the ground, surrounded by a group of men. Bruises painted their body in shades of purple and blue, their form barely recognizable.

Your cheerful facade almost cracked, your smile twitching as the weight of rage began to settle. Kaji moved to rush forward, but your hand shot out, gripping his wrist tightly. He glanced at you in surprise, but you didn’t say a word.

You had already lost it.

and he knew.

Within moments, the ground was littered with their groaning forms, some writhing, others motionless. One remained in your grasp, their face battered beyond recognition as your fists continued to rain down mercilessly.

The muffled voices of Kaji echoed faintly in the background, but they never reached you—not truly. you felt a pang somewhere deep within. You’d hit Kaji in the frenzy, hadn’t you? But the thought barely registered, drowned out by the roaring in your ears.

but before you could land another punch, a firm hand caught your wrist mid-air.

and that's where you finally snapped back to reality

“Don’t get in my way, Kaji-kun,” you warned, your voice low and unnervingly calm, a dark smile tugging at your lips.

“Are you an animal…?” his tone steady despite the tension in the air, ignoring your warning entirely.

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze at last. “Well, aren’t we all?” you murmured,

His grip didn’t falter. “You’re better than this, Y/N,” he said simply, his voice soft but unyielding.

His words pierced through the fog, and the strength left your arm. Slowly, his grip loosened, and you let the battered man slip from your grasp, his body crumpling to the ground.

'right.. I'm a human... I'm a human...I'm a human... I'm a human...'

'Am I..?'

You forced an apologetic smile, though it felt hollow. “Sorry… I lost control,” your gaze faltering. Kaji said nothing, the weight of his silence pressing on you.

“I even hurt you…” you added, reaching toward his cheek but stopping short, your hand trembling before you let it fall.

"Don't give me that crap." he started and the lollipop he was crunching at were making sounds. “Get your head on straight.”

He tapped your shoulder lightly, as if to offer some kind of comfort, though the gesture felt awkward coming from him.

The lollipop crunched again as he finished it off, the stick dangling from his mouth. “Now stop standing around like a broken toy. We’ve got stuff to do.”

His words were blunt, but there was something about the way he said them that made you feel less… alone.

you chuckled in defeat.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

ღ¸.🌸´`🌸.¸¸ღSakura Harukaღ¸.🌸´`🌸.¸¸ღ

he met you in the middle of your chaos.

didn't really end well since he had a hard time trying to stop you without trying to hurt you badly.

and when he saw an opening he finally got to make you snap out of it.

you were an easy going person and you latched onto sakura quickly.

the both of you developed some kind of connection after that encounter.

He tries to push you away at first, unsure how to handle your intensity, but secretly grows attached.

poor boy was just not honest

You tried resorting to meds and it somehow did work.

" don't use those white stuff too much you might get overused" he said as he looked away, you simply chuckled "You mean overdosed?"

he blushed intensely "jus' the same!" he huffed as he crossed his arms.

It was late, the dead of night cloaking the streets in shadows, when Sakura trudged home after an exhausting overtime shift at his part-time job. His thoughts were fogged with weariness as he approached his apartment.

As he passed by the rundown playground—a space that barely deserved the name—he froze. The scene before him made his breath catch in his throat.

“Y/N?” he called out, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet laced with disbelief.

Under the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp, you sat amidst a scattered mess of bodies—men beaten and groaning, some eerily still. Blood stained the concrete in dark splotches.

You, however, were unmoving, your gaze fixed on the empty expanse of the night sky. There was no expression on your face, no flicker of life in your eyes. You seemed utterly disconnected from the chaos around you.

sakura was already right beside you and you can't even notice him nor even hear any of his voice that is repeatedly chanting your name.

Finally, he reached out, his hand tentative as it moved toward your shoulder.

The moment his fingers brushed against you, your body moved on instinct. Your hand shot out, slapping his away with a force that made him flinch.

Your eyes met his at last, no longer blank but burning with something raw—fear, anger, or something he couldn’t quite place. It froze him in his spot.

Sakura exhaled shakily, lowering his hand. “Y/N,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, steady despite the unease. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

You simply stared at him, your silence more terrifying than any words you could have spoken.

Sakura swallowed hard, his throat dry as his gaze remained locked with yours. He didn’t dare look away, though every instinct told him to.

Before he could process it, you were suddenly in front of him, your fist raised, poised to strike. His eyes widened, but he didn’t move, didn’t flinch.

Your fist hovered there, trembling slightly, but you stopped just short of his face, snapping back to reality in the final moment.

The tension in your body drained as realization settled in, your hand slowly lowering.

Sakura’s expression remained calm, as though he’d anticipated your reaction.

Without hesitation, he reached out and lightly tapped your shoulder, a small, grounding gesture that felt heavier than words.

“Sakura…?” your voice wavered as you spoke his name, your features softening for the first time.

He hummed in acknowledgment, his voice low and steady. “I’m here.”

The simplicity of his words cut through the lingering fog in your mind, grounding you in the present.

The adrenaline that had fueled you drained, leaving behind only exhaustion and guilt.

“I…” you began, but the words caught in your throat. What could you say? Sorry for almost hitting him? Sorry for losing control? It felt meaningless.

He shook his head slightly, as if reading your thoughts. “Don’t,” he said softly. “Just breathe.”

The faint groans of the men you’d taken down reached your ears, and your stomach twisted. You took a shaky step back, your breath hitching.

“Hey.” His voice was sharp, snapping your attention back to him. “Look at me.”

You did, your eyes meeting his steady gaze. He wasn’t judging you, wasn’t angry. Just… there.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice softer now. “This place—it doesn’t need any more of you.”

He turned and started walking, his pace slow enough for you to follow. For a moment, you stayed rooted to the spot, torn between staying with your guilt and moving forward.

But his voice broke through again, this time over his shoulder. “You coming, or do I have to carry you?”

That earned a faint huff of laughter from you, and your feet finally moved. You followed him.

"Thanks sakura kun..."

[2005noroithecurse]

↳ MEA CULPA

Latin - an acknowledgement of ones fault or error, often said in apology

› my contribution to the sicko satoru agenda brought to u by nyquil & fever dreams <3

› yandere satoru x f!reader

› word count : 2.5k+

warnings : rilegious imagery, masturbation f & m mentioned, voyeurism, stalking, panty stealing, home invasion technically, hes mad obsessive, noncon revoked consent, taking advantage of a drunk person, alcohol consumption, satoru is a bit of a sadist & a masochist to me, creampie, prone bone, backshots, reader has hair long enough to pull, installing spyware on someone's phone

If there is such a thing as a soulmate Satoru knows you're his. Knew it from the very first moment he saw you buying coffee on that mid thaw spring day. He hadn't been able to ignore the ever growing thump of his heart in his ears, hadn't been able to forget the way you looked, nor how your eyes had lingered on him for a second longer than what was considered polite. The instant intrigue had him snared, helpless against the trap that was you.

Without a doubt you're what keeps his heart beating.

The sweetness that permeates your whole being sates him better than any treat could hope to. He sees it in the way you often chat with your next door neighbor if you two pass by either coming or going, a kind smile on your face or even an indulgent giggle here or there. Its in the way you stop to pet a stray cat on your walk back to your car, scratching under its chin as you coo at it.

He'd be lying if he said it didn't make something ugly twist in his gut, it should be him that gets to hear your laughter, him that you fawn over and speak so softly too. It's jealousy, he's aware enough to recognize it but couldn't ever bring himself to admit it makes his jaw clench and his fingers ache to cause some unfortunate mishap with your neighbor. The little cat would find itself whisked to a shelter, no longer diverting your attention on your way home.

But by far his favorite thing about you, and what makes him forget all about that foul envy constricting around his mind like a cobra, is seeing you in the waning hours of the evening when your bedroom glows faintly orange from the soft lamp at your bedside.

Never had the act of undressing looked so religious. His hands shake with pure need, the need to trace every plane of your skin and map you with his lips. When you lay down his breath catches in his throat, your hand disappearing between your legs has him groaning softly from just beyond the windowpane.

Self pleasure as some divine ritual with him as the figure observing the rite, breathless at every expression you make while your fingers play with your pussy until you're cumming and your lips part. He hopes his name will be the prayer that completes the sacrament, that one day he'll be lapping up your arousal to drip like wine down his throat instead of feeling himself spill into his own hands outside the confines of your home.

Still, Satoru finds your most convenient quality is that you don't possess much situational awareness. You never notice the aquamarine eyes peering into your window, nor the second shadow that follows you down streets. He's abundantly thankful you've never noticed a presence in your home: the one that switches on a second alarm so you're never over sleeping, or how many pairs of your underwear have been stuffed into his pockets, and have never woken to his lips ghosting over your forehead as you rest.

The feeling you give him is like when swallowing a shot of tequila, the straight burn up and down the throat and the accompanied warmth that spreads in the cheeks and chest. He almost giggles as he traces a finger along the bridge of your nose in the hazy dark of your bedroom, a lovesick smile on his face.

Getting you here hadn't been a big task at all, it's jarring how open to suggestion you are when you're drunk. It was easy, with smooth words and his natural overconfident air, to make you believe in a matter of seconds that of course he knew the friends that had left you at the bar. Of course, he'd been there all along, you must not have noticed silly girl. You were so cheery getting into his car, so open and gregarious. All too happy to have the convenient ride home.

"Have we met before?"

The question had stopped him dead, it felt like the second an airplane cockpit experiences violent decompression: all air sucked out and the flight left doomed.

That is, until he turned at the red light to see you drunkenly ogling him. Your eyes, even unfocused from the booze, didn't fail to notice that he was tall, well built, nor did it escape him the way you looked a second too long at his crotch and thighs. It made him feel like a blushy teenager again, the magic of you.

"Hm, maybe here or there," he said noncommittally, after all he had to keep up appearances as a mutual friend.

"Well, I'd remember someone as gorgeous as you," you giggle, clearly feeling the liquid courage blooming inside your head. Fortunate that it also blotted out your memory of seeing him at the coffee shop in the very beginning.

It was adorable, Satoru swears he's never seen anything on this earth as whimsically beautiful as you.

After a bit of flirtatious banter coupled with the drive lulling you into a drunken stupor he gets you right where he wants you: hanging off his arm like he's all that kept you standing as he guided you to your house. Luckily you never stopped to ask how he knew where your house was to begin with.

His lips find yours as soon as he walks you into your bedroom, the tang of leftover liquor on your tongue does nothing to dampen how sugary you taste. It made his head spin, cradling you in his arms and keeping you so firmly pressed against himself it was as if he were trying to merge you two completely.

You'd been just as starved, fingers winding through his ghost white hair and it had made his brain short out- touching you so freely was something he'd only fantasized about for the last six months, only allowing himself the barest of touches when he would slip into your already familiar bedroom, and this time there was no anxiety fizzing on the edges of his mind.

"Satoru," you'd sighed against his lips, nuzzling your nose to his while his saliva glistened on your lips. You'd pressed back into him, hands roaming his muscled back as he pressed sloppy, open mouth kisses to your throat. Your voice had been so low with lust it made him hard instantly, straining against his pants.

Visions danced across his mind, the way you'd sound beneath him, the way your ass would feel in his hands, what it would feel like to grope your chest and finally, finally be inside you, making you squeeze around his cock and cum until you're braindead. It was all right there, you were right there for the taking.

"Please just fuck me," you whined against his cheek and he could've cum before you finished speaking. Its the four words he ached to hear, they made him groan against your bruised skin as his hands slipped beneath your shirt to snake upwards, squeezing your breasts through your bra.

Desperation practically bled from his hands as he pushed you down onto the bed, grinning wildly climbing over you, his tongue sliding across yours as he tugged down your pants and underwear, yanked up your top and nearly ripped the bra from your chest.

You'd yelped into his mouth, clearly hadn't anticipated his movements to mimic those of an over eager animal tearing into prey. It hadn't deterred you though, hunger the constant note in all of the frantic little movements of your hands and the way your lips moved against his, all teeth and spit. He only reluctantly broke the kiss to yank his own shirt off, biting your bottom lip a little too hard in the process.

"You don't know how fuckin' hard you make me," he'd groaned leaning back over you, biting and sucking along the tops of your breasts, "How badly I've wanted you."

You were too overloaded by lust and liquor to catch exactly what he'd said, reaching for the waistband of his pants before palming his cock through the material. To him it was downright romantic and he'd made no move to stop you as you worked them open, wriggling them down with his boxers enough to let his cock spring free in your grasp.

Being that hard was painful, almost heart attack inducing. Your glossy eyes had widened, lips parting cutely in surprise as you'd taken in the way he was flushed pink with precum oozing from the tip to smear onto your fingers.

"You're massive," you'd mumbled, an adrenaline shot to his ego like no other. He'd even throbbed in your grip at your words.

His lips met yours in another tidal wave of desire, moaning into your mouth as you stroked him while his fingers frantically dipped down to spread your slick folds, rubbing circles around your clit to make you gasp and arch your back. So caught up in it you hadn't even heard what he whispered against your lips.

"You're even better than I thought you'd be."

His fingers became coated in arousal as he flooded you with the plush feeling of pleasure, his tongue exploring your mouth so thoroughly it was as if he'd been committing the map of it to memory. The way you stroked his cock had him impatient, rutting into your hand and whining each time your thumb would rub against his swollen tip.

"I need to fuck you," he whined in a daze, sounding almost close to tears, hips aching and eyes taking on a fishbowl perspective towards the string of spit connecting your mouths.

You rubbed his thigh, hand slowing its motions on his shaft. "Please-"

The word barely escaped your lips before he was gently replacing your hand with his own, sliding between your folds and encouraging you to hold your legs by the back of your thighs as he nudged at your entrance. "So beautiful," he choked out watching the way his cock disappeared inside your pussy, your walls constricting around him in a steady, massaging rhythm.

He'd had to focus hard on his own breathing to make sure he didn't cum inside you right then. "Gonna treat you so well, I promise-" the bite of your nails against his shoulders made him wince, but he'd take any pain so long as it came from your hands.

Pressing your chests flush together, his pubic bone grinding against your clit, his rhythm slow and deep as he'd pressed his forehead to yours and let himself become unmoored in your lust blown eyes, a willing drowning victim.

It was all he's wanted, and he never wanted it to end.

To him heaven is just a word, the real thing lives inside you, taking form in the way your pussy clenches around him, the way you moan and toss your head back into the mattress, the way the moonlight from the window plays across your skin and makes you look otherworldly beneath him.

You whined his name, hips rising up to meet his thrusts as you rubbed your clit and your eyes rolled back while Satoru had wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking hard and scraping with his teeth just to hear you yelp and feel you claw at his skin again.

What no one realizes about him is the longing for pain, both giving and receiving. What you don't know specifically is that there's nothing that can give him that, nothing he would allow except you. What could be more devotional than that, in his mind?

Its what makes him pause, ignoring your whines as he slips out in fact nearly ignoring you altogether, drunk off your body and a fervor that grips his mind like madness. The desire to both give and receive, all things in balance. He guides you to turn over, roughly pushing your ass up and forcing your head down into the duvet.

His mind had been entirely clouded, too focused on needing to see your soaked cunt greedily swallow him whole. It was mesmerizing, both the sight and the way your body grips him like it'll never let go again while the mess of slick against your inner thighs glints in the moonlight. Starved and desperate he fucked you without care, fingers digging into your hips and ass so hard bruises would stain your skin like watercolors, showing the exact position on his fingers come morning.

"I'm gonna make you cum, angel, all over my cock," he panted through rough, recklessly deep thrusts. He leaned down so one hand could fist in your hair, a cruel grip that had you crying out in pain. It was a sickening sort of thrill that overtook him watching your hands flail blindly above your head before scratching and gripping at his hand.

Now it's you who knows what it's like to be caught in the snare.

"Stop! It hurts!" You'd sobbed out, but he was beyond the point of stopping, beyond the point of reason. He did make an effort to placate you, pressing you down into prone bone flat to the bed and leaving messy kisses on the back on your neck but it was in the distinct tone of forgiveness.

You don't hold out much longer, sobbing and nearly wailing as your abused cunt spasmed around his throbbing length, liquid dripping down from the base of his cock to smear against his and your thighs as he fucked you through it before being unable to last against the onslaught of your pulsing walls, burying himself inside you and filling you up with hot, sticky spurts of cum.

He'd stayed pressed against you, laying on top of you for a while, simply listening to your sniffles as he fiddled with your hair. Really Satoru was loath to pull out of you, pull away from you.

Every silent pass of his fingers against your skin was an apology, and eventually those teary sniffles had subsided into even, deep breaths as sleep closed it's fingers around you instead.

So the moment had passed, the rope cut so that the rabbit might yet run out of sight, it's heart pounding and leg twinging in pain.

He'd been lost in reliving it already, coming back to himself and placing a chaste kiss to your lips as he tugged his shirt back on and made sure you were in a comfortable position beneath the duvet he'd tucked you into.

Of course he'd also taken a moment to unlock your phone with your index finger, installing just a tiny little program that would allow him to get copies of all your phone activity.

One last kiss to your temple before he slips out the door, down the hallway, and back into his car.

One last silent query of forgiveness.

[jimmedicated-jambino]

💊💚 Jimmedicated Mouthwashing AU Masterpost 💚💊

What is this?

The Jimmedicated! AU is a Mouthwashing Jimcurly AU where they go no contact after an argument in college and reconnect ~15 years later. Jimmy gets on antidepressants and he's still healing. The main "storyline" takes place after they reconnect, but there are flashbacks to the past and the no contact period. It's a wholesome comedy that is built on a mountain of pure angst. Tread lightly.

The main tag -> #Jimmedicated au

IMPORTANT NOTES:

TW: depression, mental illness, su*cide attempt, drug and alcohol addiction, smoking, self harm, antidepressants, medication

> Because Jimmy and Curly separated so early in the timeline, Curly never joined Pony Express and never became a Captain. Without Jimmy at his side, he has no reason to take or keep that shitty job. Instead he stays in school and gets a doctorate in Astrophysics.

> The canon storyline never happens as a result of the split!!! Curly never became a captain and Jimmy doesn't even know what "Pony Express" is. There's no Anya, Swansea, or Daisuke because, respectfully, this ain't about them. It's a Jimcurly AU. They're probably out there somewhere, but they won't ever be featured or mentioned beyond this post. So, don't worry, your comfort characters are safe.

Why did you make this?

This is all based on actual things that happened to me. Real experiences, feelings, and thoughts. I suffered from severe depression for 10 years and it got bad. Very bad. I turned to medication as a last resort and it saved my life. I can say with 100% certainty that I wouldn't be alive right now if not for my choice to take medication. I mean it. DON'T TAKE MEDICAL ADVICE FROM THIS BLOG!! I MAY BE SEXY BUT I'M NOT A DOCTOR!!! 🗣🗣🗣 Antidepressants aren't for everyone! I'm NOT saying that everyone should take them! It's not a one-size-fits-all deal. Everyone has different experiences with medication, some are good and some are bad. This is just MY personal experience with medication which just so happened to be a good one. Please don't do anything stupid.

Taking medication didn't "cure" me and I'm still healing, but I'm doing significantly better now. And I do experience a few shitty side effects that I have to live with. But, I'd rather have side effects than go back to where I started. In conclusion, this is me coping. 🥳

STORY BREAKDOWN:

Before Going No Contact (The past)

> Jimmy and Curly are in their early to mid 20s

> Childhood best friends. Inseparable. Bonded for life.

> Jimmy is an insecure little shit. Smokes. Drinks. Dark humor and dirty jokes. Lashes out easily. Has a hard time accepting and giving affection. Super touch-starved. Bad family life. Shitty mom and an even shittier dad. Is broke so Curly pays for everything. Internalized homophobia and will call you the f slur. Bisexual disaster in denial. Actually stupid, but thinks he's the smartest one in the room. Vain. Self-centered. Materialistic. Rude. Flaky. A moron. Hates himself, so he acts like he's better than everyone else. Abandonment issues. Loves Green day and Metallica. Thinks Curly secretly hates him. Door slammer. Always coming up with a scheme to get money. Puts Curly down at every opportunity. Doesn't like taking handouts from Curly, but does it anyway. Dry lips and no money and no future.

> Curly is the attractive, "perfect" one. Smart, athletic, kind, and caring. A pleasure to have in class. Gets in trouble only because he gets wrapped up in Jimmy's schemes. Everyone tells him to just kick Jimmy to the curb, but he refuses to let go. Thinks he can fix Jimmy. No he fucking can't. Feels sympathy and pities Jimmy. Knows that Jimmy has potential to be great, he just chooses not to. Level-headed. Reasonable. Friendly. Loyal to a fault. "I'm from Kansas guys 🤠" Rustic Hospitality. Wears stupid cowboy boots like that's his personality (Drives Jimmy crazy. He reminds Curly that he's cringe on a daily basis). Loves Dolly Parton. Bi but prefers men. Upper class family, but not "rich", just well-off. Loving mom and dad. His special interest is space. Majoring in Physics. Wants to become astrophysicist and work at Nasa.

> They both have feelings for eachother but have different ways of dealing with that:

Curly genuinely loves Jimmy and wants to spend his whole life with him. He is kind and gentle, but a complete doormat. Lets this little toothpick, Jimmy, walk all over him and call the shots despite being the bigger, stronger one. His greatest fear is losing Jimmy. He decides to shoot his shot and confess his feelings. Jimmy doesn't take it well.

Jimmy has feelings for Curly, but his internalized homophobia and inability to accept love and affection hold him back and cause him to lash out when Curly confesses. He's terrified of commitment and is overwhelmed by Curly's grand display of affection, believing that he's not good enough for Curly.

> Curly's confession backfires because Jimmy starts berating him and yelling about how he's not gay. Starts concocting this idea that the entire thing was a set up, just so Curly could get in his pants (it wasn't).

> Jimmy packs his shit and leaves.

During No Contact (14-20~ year split)

> Curly becomes ultra famous. Writes a book, works at NASA, my boy is thriving. Fuck Pony Express!! My boy is breaking bread with Neil DeGrasse mother fucking Tyson and finding fucking black holes and shit! Tulpar be damned!!! He got beef with Bill Nye because he's not a FUCKING SCIENTIST!!! HE'S AN ENGINEER COSPLAYING AS A SCIENTIST!! QRTs Bill Nye on Twitter every time he posts anything just so he can insult him in some way. Probably gets canceled and has to do a notes app apology. Goes back to bullying Bill Nye after a month. The beef continues. Hides his southern accent very well except when he's around friends or arguing with someone. Sounds exactly like Arthur Morgan. He retired the cowboy boots bc he realized it was cringe. Voted the Sexiest Astrophysicist Alive 4 years in a row. That award got discontinued bc there are no more sexy Astrophysicists alive Curly the only one lmao 💀

>Jimmy drops out of college and spirals without Curly in his life. Becomes an addict. Severe depression. SO much mental illness in this man. Cries himself to sleep in a puddle of his own vomit. He SHs and has attempted to end his life 4 times and failed. Collects newspaper clippings, books, everything and anything that has Curly’s face on it. Says he's only collecting them to burn them in a bonfire. Doesn't ever burn them. Found Curly’s book in a store once, bought it, read the "Dedicated to" page and it didn't have his name on it. Skims the whole thing trying to find any possible mention of him. Finds nothing because it's not even a memoir, it's a book about astrophysics. Takes that personally and has mental breakdown. Jimmy is not doing good guys :( Bro lost the one good thing in his life. He has nothing and nobody to live for. No dreams or aspirations. No family no friends nothing. The only he wants now is an end to his pain and suffering. He carries out his final attempt and while he lays on the ground and waits for death, he has a life-altering epiphany. Decides to get better. To at least TRY and give life another shot. It's not easy, but he does make progress. Gets on the right meds, recovers from addiction, has found hope. The thing that keeps him going is the thought of seeing Curly again as this better version of himself. Ponytail Jimmy time!! It's symboliccccc!!

Reconnection (The present)

> Jimmy pretty much just shows up at Curly's doorstep and immediately moves in until he can "get back on his feet and find an apartment."

>At some point they do get married (Curly proposes ofc)

>They argue at times, but it's more like banter? Literally an old married couple.

>Curly has had time to finally grow a backbone. He's still warm and kind, but he will NOT be taking ANY of Jimmy's shit. Jimmy is in HIS house now. So yes he tops....(and yes... he's uh big...) Curly is fat. He's stopped weightlifting, so all the weight had to go somewhere, right? 🤷‍♀️ (Jimmy loves it bc dad bods are so fucking hot he's so DILF core it's crazyyy I want him I want him I want him I want him I wan) His new hobby is fishing (He just does it for fun and lets the fish go afterwards). He talks Jimmy out of most of the "Get-rich-quick" schemes he comes up with. Loves Chappell Roan and LOVES "The Giver". Malewife. Has doctorate in Astrophysics. That's right. Dr. Curly is in the building UGHHH he's SO fucking fi—

> Jimmy's still a chaotic little creature who will get into arguments and insult people, but he's a lot more mentally sound. He's better at taking care of himself. He's not perfect, far from it actually, but he's making good progress. He's an unemployed bi disaster loser. He makes hyperpop music because he can just say whatever crazy nonsense pops into his head. (Main inspo for this is Food House's new album, Two House. That's the type of music Jimmy creates. That exactly. Entire album. Yes.) Also he needs glasses REALLY badly... bc he's BLIND!

One last thing:

I'm a Bottom Jimmy believer till I DIE dawg. I will DIE on this hill. Fucking CRUCIFY ME and make me a bottom Jimmy MARTYR bc There's no top Jimmy content in this house. Only bottom Jimmy content. 🥳

That's pretty much it! Hope u guys like the AU! 💚

[rwrbficrecs]

First monthly faves for 2024 !! ❤️

Leave a message by @sherryvalli (book-verse)

@dot524: In the mood for some cute, heart-melting fluff? This is a one-shot that recounts Alex’s voicemail messages over the years from those who care about him - including Henry.

would you be my love, my love? (would you be mine) by ohprongs (book-verse)

@wilmonsfolklore: a strictly come dancing AU with a lot of feelings that I've been thinking about ever since i read it!!!

even though we know it isn't true by @matherines (book-verse)

@wilmonsfolklore: for everyone struggling with academic pressure, or anyone, really. it's pretty sad but of course there's comfort personified in Henry!!

beyond infatuation, how obsessively i adore you by @waterloolovers (book-verse)

@wilmonsfolklore: a new fandom classic if you ask me. Henry works at the daycare Alex's daughter goes to and their relationship progresses really naturally. the kid content in this fic is some of the cutest i have ever read and this is the perfect fic to go on your reread list for comfort.

And They Were Roommates by @14carrotghoul (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Alex and Henry get to know themselves and each other after they move in together. This story is not sugarcoated at all, very realistic - just how life is, and so so sweet. Also, unfortunately, rather short, but still worth the read - as are many other stories by this author, such as the 'Las flores' series.

Spirit of the Season by @pridepages (book-verse)

@heybuddy-drabbles: A little late to the game but I finally read E.J's Christmas story. Her way of story telling doesn't disappoint in this shorter tale (by her standards). It's not lighthearted and it touches some difficult topics (mostly canon) but it's all worth it because of the way they fall in love through Christmas Eve/night. Can't recommend it enough!

Where There Are Octobers by @iboatedhere (book-verse)

@na-dineee: 31 short chapters that are just really fun to read! Some are post-canon or canon-compliant, others are AUs - but in all of them the characters are so beautifully drawn, true to how we know and love them! A vet AU, a hospital AU, major fluff, even an X-Files AU - and who knows, maybe one or two dribbles will turn into more?! Fingers crossed!

The Art of Losing by bigfishbigpond (book-verse)

@dot524: If you think the mid-story breakup should have been longer and more angsty, here’s the story for you. An interesting and heartfelt story of what Henry and Alex are like apart, and what pulls them back together.

I know that you hate me (Do you though?) by @arand0mdutchgirl (book-verse)

@magnificentandcoolfez: A bit of good ADHD angst (with some comfort ofc). I like the focus on how hard adhd can be and it's a short and good read for those who like comfort that comes in the shape of your crush holding you until you feel grounded again.

blushing ears and beating hearts by @kill8a (book-verse)

@na-dineee: This story is not just slow burn, it is glacial burn. It's an college AU, set in New York, and so slow, so tender, so fluffy - after reading it I was floating on cloud 9 for quite a while. I don't know if you feel the same way, but it's funny how changing one given variable somehow changes the whole dynamic between the two of them. Or is it just me?! Either way, it's so wholesome to tag along as their love blossoms, I still feel so hugged and cared for.

all so human with our guards down by @maxbegone (book-verse)

@myheartalivewrites: a post-apocalyptic story that is unlike any other. There are no zombies or gore, but instead it focuses on rebuilding and the softest love growing between Alex and Henry, surrounded by family and friends. I kinda wanted to live there by the end of it.

The Snow Prince by @orchidscript (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: several fairy tale tropes meet to create this absolutely amazing story. It has dreaminess of a fable, best kind of yearning of your favourite slow burn fics and a little bit of adventure of a fantasy novel.

but to say that I'm a rainbow, to tell me that I'm bright (when I'm so used to feeling wrong, well, it helps me feel alright.) by What_Is_A_Mild_Opinion (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: Fandom is really sleeping on this one! This story is a canon rewrite with characters reimagined as creatures with animal characteristics. The wordbuilding is so fantastic that even if you are not a fan of long fics following canon step by step, it's absolutely worth to check this even for a chapter or two and get to know these wonderful versions of Alex and Henry. (Alex is literally rainbow.)

safe with me / more than I ever (in a thousand years)by @indomitable-love (book-verse)

@na-dineee: I think the author is very well known among all rwrb fanfic readers. I really, really liked these two stories, like a lot: Two 5+1 fics, one from Pez's point of view, the other from Bea's - unfortunately both characters are given too little attention in the book imho. As expected, both narrators are sharply observing, protective of Henry, loving, honest, tender - and you end up loving Henry (and Alex) even more.

check out our past Monthly Faves here ❤️

[ak319]

Yan G!P Princess x fem reader

Part VII ➺Prev ⤷ Series m.list Your name is Deniz here

It was your first night in Marrakech, and all you wanted was to erase the events of the day from your mind. Standing in the middle of the suite, your eyes were fixed on the footage of your arrival at the airport. Despite Kade's insistence on keeping it discreet, the Prime Minister and his wife had still shown up to welcome you. Their gesture was kind, but it only heightened your anxiety. In two days, you’d be heading to Rabat, where the real pressure awaited--meeting the royals.

Kade was in the shower, so you seized the chance to turn off the television and call it a night. Too much Kade in one day was migraine-inducing.

Moments later, Kade emerged from the bathroom, humming softly. She paused mid-step, towel in hand, as her eyes landed on you, curled up on the couch with your back to her, the comforter draped protectively around you. She sighed, but despite your obvious avoidance, a faint smile tugged at her lips. It was just like you to be headstrong and determined--especially when it came to avoiding her.

"Darling?" Kade's voice was low and raspy as she stood over you, but you kept your back turned, refusing to acknowledge her presence.

"You really gonna sleep here?"

"Absolutely. Now go away. Don’t wanna hear another word."

"Deniz, how about I sleep here, and you take the bed, love? Hm?"

"I said not another word."

"Fine, love, fine. Have a good night..." Kade’s tone softened with reluctant acceptance as she walked to the bed, but her eyes never left your form on the couch.

‘Is this how our first night will be? Or worse... every night? No, Kade, she just needs time, that’s all.’

The thought weighed heavy on her, the distance between you more painful than she'd anticipated. She lay down, heart aching with a quiet, unfulfilled longing to have you in her arms. But sleep didn’t come easily, the empty space beside her a sharp reminder of what she wanted--and couldn’t yet have.

════∘◦❁◦∘════

"Try this, it's so good. Here," Kade said, offering you a spoonful of tagine, the fragrant stew rich with saffron, preserved lemons, and olives. Without a word, you took the spoon from her hand and ate it yourself.

"Yum, right?" she grinned.

The breeze slips through the open window beside the sofa where you two are currently eating, your head peeking from the window gazing out. The air enters carrying with it the scent of spices and distant wood smoke. From here, the sounds of the streets drift up, muffled but unmistakable--the chatter of traders haggling over rugs, the calls of vendors selling fresh oranges and carpets. The view stretches further, past the bustling marketplace to where the city melts into the horizon, the Atlas Mountains looming beyond, their snow-capped peaks a sharp contrast to the sunbaked desert landscape. The room behind you is quiet, luxurious even, but it can’t hold your attention the way the city does, especially when she's here, in front of you.

You took a slow sip of your tea, savoring the warmth, when Kade’s morning voice reached your ears. "Today, we’re going shopping for you, love. So when you meet the Queen, you’ll be as Moroccan as she is," she teased, a chuckle slipping through.

You rolled your eyes. "You couldn’t have sounded more like a colonizer."

Her smirk widened, never faltering. "What?! How- even--Damn, you really just love blaming me for the sins of my ancestors for everything, don't you, love?"

"Well, not my fault you talk and even act like them."

"Oh, I do?" Her eyes gleamed, her voice dropping an octave. "If that’s the case, darling, let me tell you something. That Kohinoor sitting in a museum---worthless when compared to you. Offer me a million of those, and I’d still choose you."

" Nobody offered it to you anyway. And I would always choose the diamond." She ignored your comment.

"I’m not joking. And damn right, I’m colonizing--" she leaned in slightly, her voice taking on a dangerous edge, "I’d colonize any country if it meant having you."

You could barely believe your ears as you backed away, disbelief washing over you. "Kade, for fuck’s sake! You sicko!" You couldn't wrap your head around the fact that she was romanticizing colonization first thing in the morning.

Her playful smirk didn’t falter, though her eyes glinted with an intensity that made you uneasy. "Oh, come on, love. Don’t act like you don’t enjoy the finer things in life."

"Finer things? At the expense of someone else’s unwillingness and by force?! Wow," you snapped, unable to hold back any longer.

Kade’s teasing expression faltered, replaced by something colder, darker. “What’s wrong with me giving you finer things?” Her voice had lost its playful edge, now tinged with frustration.

You crossed your arms tightly, standing firm. "Just--listen Kade! You might not realize it, but the way you talk sometimes... it’s too much and all bullshit. Just stop."

Kade sat there, confused, her brow furrowing as she watched you storm off to the dressing room before deciding to follow you. Her presence was right behind you as you started rummaging through your bag, searching for something to channel your anger into.

She took a step closer, towering over your frame, her presence overwhelming as her voice dropped to a low, almost dangerous whisper. “I only want to give you the world, but if you’re going to fight me every step of the way…" The intensity in her words sent a shiver down your spine. As her hand reached out, you jerked your waist away, refusing to be drawn into her grasp. Without a word, you headed to the bathroom, leaving her standing there. Her smirk returned as she inhaled the faint trace of your scent lingering in the air, lips curling in quiet satisfaction.

════∘◦❁◦∘════

With no more than three bodyguards and in disguise, she took you to the bustling markets, where you did feel a thrill of excitement as you browsed and shopped. A feeling that you had become unfamiliar with. As your fingers traced an intricate piece of jewellery, her low voice brushed against your ear, making you jump. You shot her a glare through your shades, but she clearly didn’t care, a grin spread across her face. She was enjoying this way too much. Why wouldn’t this bastard will?

"You should buy it. Come on. You know, if you command it right now, Princess," she said, cocking her head to the side and leaning closer as you looked away, "I’ll empty every stall for you."

"No, thank you. And yes, I am buying these." You pulled out your own saved money---something your dad had withdrawn for you--and paid the vendor.

"Wha--Deniz? What was that?" She demanded, her tone sharp as you continued browsing another stall, smiling at the vendor.

"I’m asking you something. Why did you do that?"

"Why did I do what? Pay for myself? With my own money?"

"Deniz, we talked about this! I told you not to bring your wallet, and yet you did."

"Exactly, because it's my wallet, and I can." The frustration on her face was evident, but she fell silent. "Give me your wallet."

Ignoring her only made her more annoyed. "Deniz, don't make a scene. Give me your wallet--" Without waiting for your response, she snatched it from you and tossed it to her bodyguard.

"What the fuck--" You started, but she placed a finger on your lips.

"Shush." She dragged you into an indoor shop, her grip on your hand unyielding.

════∘◦❁◦∘════

"Why the fuck are you so insecure?! YOU DON'T EVEN LET ME DO SOMETHING THAT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE I STILL HAVE SOME, LIKE SOME FUCKING AUTONOMY LEFT IN MY LIFE!"

She shook her head with a mock laugh as she set the last bag on the sofa and walked toward you.

"Right, and how long does this autonomy of yours last? One week? One month? Because that wallet, along with the bank details I just received, only says... about three months, love." She is still stalking you even after marrying. Of course.

"Can you fucking stop looking into my things for once , you creep!? Do you think I’m not going to get a job after this? I definitely fucking am."

"Deniz! You need to accept that you are now a PRINCESS! A DUCHESS! That is going to be your job! Are you telling me you want to do your old job or something?" At your approving silence, she pinched the bridge of her nose, laughing in disbelief.

"I just don’t understand why you say such... it hurts to say it, but it’s plain dumb, Deniz. You’re being childish. Whether on purpose or not."

"Just--give me back my wallet--"

"NO! Do you even realize how pathetic and spineless I felt letting you buy the very first thing on our HONEYMOON? Deniz, my money is YOUR money, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you spend your own here! Is this what you wanted? To marry some... civilian who just stands there and watches you buy things with your OWN MONEY?! Was that your dream life?"

"YES! Because, Kade, you are foreign to the idea of free will! That is what normal people DO! I TOO FUCKING FEEL SPINELESS!" Tears brimmed your eyes but you didn't back down. "You can't keep doing this shit to ME!"

"Oh, well, call it whatever you want. Now, I’m going to give you a few minutes to clear your head, and when I come back, this topic should be forgotten." With that, she stormed out, leaving you sitting dejectedly on the couch. You got up with a huff and poured some water for yourself.

"God, this is going to be so hard." Your eyes drifted to the bags on the sofa, and you decided to put them in the dressing room. Facing the mirror, a sigh escaped your lips. Is this your life now? To just always listen and accept things? You had to decide something here for your own peace of mind, otherwise, you would go mad. Either you keep being like this, make her life hell and pray daily that Kade realizes her mistake and divorces you, or just accept your fate and start living like before.

You scoffed at the idea of the divorce.

"Can you get me divorced from her in the future, then?"

"That would be possible when I become Queen. I could grant you permission. But that time seems far off, and...There are other factors to consider, including Kade’s own consent."

And the way Kade always used a contending tone whenever she expressed her love for you---always, forever, irrevocably. Will she even consent? "But I still love you. Never forget that. Ever. I won’t let you."

You were scrolling through your phone when she returned, her expression calmer and a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

A talk with your father about the money had helped ease her frustration.

"Deniz, love. Here." She handed you your wallet, and for a moment, you weren't sure how to respond.

"Take it. Spend it if you want. But just don’t stop me when I want to buy you things, okay?" You accepted it, curious about what had changed her mind.

"Now get ready, we’re going out for dinner."

"Why not just eat here?"

"Deniz, we can’t dine at the hotel all the time. Come on, get ready. I made a reservation."

And the days in Marrakech passed like a gentle breeze. Waking, shopping, eating, and dozing on the couch became your routine. What frustrated you was the long list of things you wanted--or needed---to do, yet couldn’t bring yourself to. The fear of being publicized, even while you diligently avoided your name on the internet, gnawed at you. And then there was Kade. You hated wearing the ring she insisted on checking before every outing. The thought of presenting a sombre face to the Moroccan royalty felt suffocating, it would only fill you with guilt instead of hurting Kade, and you weren’t rude by nature.

Kade, on the other hand, relished how you remained kind to others, fully aware of your internal struggles. Her hands and voice offered consistent comfort, even as you subtly rejected it, hiding your turmoil behind forced smiles. This was what she admired about you, your ability to shine for others despite your own darkness--a quality befitting a royal, especially as her wife. But it also drove her mad. She longed to be the one who elicited your genuine smile, not the one left in the shadows of your charm.

“Just a few days more…”

════∘◦❁◦∘════

The 13-day honeymoon in Morocco finally ended, and as you stepped onto the plane, waving for what felt like an eternity to the endless crowds, you collapsed into one of the plush seats with a deep sigh. Your body ached from forced smiles, from playing the role you never wanted.

“Tired, love?” Kade’s voice came from behind you, dripping with the warmth you had grown used to but never invited.

“Duh.” Your response was flat, lacking the energy to engage with her usual teasing.

She chuckled, settling into the seat across from you, a sparkle of amusement in her hazel eyes. “Wear your seatbelt,” she instructed softly, watching as drinks were brought over.

The cabin hummed softly with quiet luxury, but the tension inside you never quite unraveled. You lifted your drink, not in a celebratory mood but simply seeking any kind of relief.

“So,” Kade leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand with a mischievous grin, “Now you know what it feels like, being royal and all.”

“Mhm. How nice of you to give me the full 4K experience, Kade.” Sarcasm laced every word, but you couldn’t muster the strength to fight her today.

“Mention not, wife,” she replied, eyes glittering with something deeper as she settled back. “But of course, this is just the beginning...” Her voice trailed off, a promise hidden beneath her words that sent a shiver down your spine.

For her, this was a game--one she was winning. For you, the game had barely begun, and you were already exhausted.

After waking from a nap, you blinked groggily, realizing it had been three hours--and you were still in the air. Confused, you rubbed your eyes and glanced out the window, expecting to see the familiar descent, but all you saw was the endless sky.

“Kade?” Your voice was thick with sleep as you yawned. “Um--why haven’t we reached yet? Isn’t it late? Like...”

Without even looking up from her book, Kade responded in her usual composed tone, “Oh, we took another route, love. Have some tea. We’ll land in about an hour.”

You sighed, a bit annoyed but too tired to argue, and took the tea offered by the attendant. The cup was warm in your hands, the scent of spices soothing, but as soon as you took a sip, your vision blurred. Two Kades swam in your gaze.

“K-Kade...what’s...um--” Your voice slurred as your body felt heavy, your limbs turning to lead.

Before you could process what was happening, Kade stood up swiftly and scooped your limp form into her arms, her touch firm but surprisingly gentle. She carried you to the cabin room, her strength never wavering as she placed you carefully on the bed.

“Sleep well, love,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Sorry, I had to.”

Her voice, soft yet resolute, echoed faintly as darkness pulled you under. There wouldn’t be another screaming match, not tonight. She couldn’t bear to see that look in your eyes again--the fear, the resentment. She was going to fix it. She had to. All those negative feelings clouding your heart... she would take care of them. For sure.

Next

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Hey man..

Coming back cause idk your my go too person for comfort rn you just make me feel safe... I really hope your okay with this if not feel free to ignore it

Ik theres prob gonna be some people who know who I am saying this but I've been trying to hype myself up over the possible speculations about a MW4 even if its prob gonna be shit... but idk someone elses take on it sorta crushed my hope.

My mental health is like... on a steady decline rn. I haven't felt like this in forever and its really disheartening bc I came so far from my mental health only to be going straight back down.

Ngl I'm scared for my future. The one job I want.. idk what i'll do if i can't get that. I'm really scared. Schools almost over. Idk what I'm going to do.

Just,... thank you for writing. They help me a lot. Idk if this sounds weird but u mean a lot to me. Thank you for being you. I'm prob gonna have a cry, drink and sleep. Or try too.

<3

I've been sitting on this a while, bud. I hope you're ok. I wasn't sure what to say, or how to help. I guess I can only tell you that if you keep putting one foot in front of the other, eventually the tunnel ends. It does.

I became a teacher because I got to the end of university and panicked. I knew I'd die in an office. But I'd spent so much of my time as a young person just surviving that I hadn't really considered the "long game". There was no plan beyond: what immediately next? But also, I have friends restarting their lives right now following divorce, I have friends starting their second career, friends who are still at home mid-thirties. Don't think you have to achieve right now. That job might be yours in five years time, even if not right now.

Also, I say this with all love, spread your passions out a bit. Find other things you love and then the impact of one franchise, fandom or hobby won't be too heavy if it crashes. Stepping on a single Lego piece hurts far fucking more than a whole pile. If that makes sense. MW4 may suck scrote, but that doesn't mean the stories, the characters, or anything, are gone. Just means they're ours now. Price is doomed by the narrative, mate. He's the kind of character who will lose everything and everyone. But! We can give him them all back in fandom.

[yokowan]

It was early in the autumn last year, just as the leaves were beginning to turn, that I found myself in the company of the most peculiar maid. Or, so I call it, for want of a better word. You see, by my very nature I am extremely disorganised. My clothes cycle between the floor and my person, maybe finding themselves in the wash from time to time if I feel so daring. Papers and writing implements are strewn about every level surface of my residence. Soiled dishes pile high and are not cleaned until I entirely run out or the smell becomes intolerable. My absent and aimless mind has led me to live in a kind of squalor that the most rancid maggots might turn up their noses at.

One weary late night, I readied myself to sleep. As I always do, I picked up the pile of clothes off of my bed and tossed them approximately in the direction of a chair. Imagine my surprise, then, when I looked over and saw the clothes had somehow perfectly folded themselves as they flew through the air and landed in a neatly squared stack. If not for the dreadful hour of night I probably would have stepped in to investigate, perhaps attempting the same a few more times. Instead I laughed at the bizarre coincidence, and collapsed in my bed.

That following mid-afternoon, after I had awoken and persuaded myself out of bed, I lumbered into the kitchen to prepare a cup of coffee. As I approached the counter I stopped and rubbed my eyes. There was already a cup of coffee there, piping hot. Perhaps I sleepwalked? I've always known myself to be a restless sleeper, tossing and muttering through the night, but never have I seen evidence of myself walking about, let alone brewing an entire cup of coffee. Well, I've never been one to refuse a spontaneous gift, even one from an unconscious version of myself, so I picked up the beverage and took a sip.

It's sweet.

Perfectly brewed, just as I like it, but I always take my coffee black. In my waking state I don't even know where my sugar dish is!

I brushed the miscellaneous on papers on my couch to one side and sat down to ponder the event as I drank. Had I, in some trance, managed to go through my entire morning routine and then return to bed with absolutely no recollection of these events, I surely would have at least made my coffee by muscle memory. Somehow not only had I made the drink, but I'd also found the sugar which I most certainly purchased at one point but has never been used since. And all this done without disturbing a single thing in my kitchen! It's so unlike me!

Perhaps it wasn't me. Perhaps some strange and bizarrely covert infiltrator entered my house and helped themselves to my kitchen before being turned away by guilt. Or, perhaps I could have been under the spell of some benevolent coffee-making warlock, or possessed by a spirit, or somehow otherwise under the influence of some magicks beyond my comprehension. Or perhaps, and oh how I laughed when the thought crossed my mind, the coffee just did that on its own! Remembering the spontaneously folded pile of clothes from the preceding night, I considered that maybe the clockwork of the universe aligned just so that the moisture in the air would come to rest in my cup and powdered coffee would fall from my shelf in just the right measure and sugar would appear from God-knows-where and…

What a preposterous idea.

I arose to investigate around the kitchen some more. The dishes on the counter and items in the cabinets were all in precisely the same order, or rather disorder, which they were in the night before. Odd. Absentmindedly, my fingers find themselves brushing against the kettle. It's stone cold. Even more odd. The coffee was hot as if just brewed when I found it, surely the kettle wouldn't have had time to cool down by now. I checked the stove, too, for good measure. Cold as well.

I sighed and stared vacantly as I took the last sips of my coffee. What a perplexing mystery indeed. I set my cup down on the counter. I nearly failed to notice before walking away, but it had just barely caught my attention that the bottom of the cup was entirely clean. I picked it back up and scrutinized it further. Not only was it clean but it was completely dry. As if there had never been any coffee in it at all! Perhaps I had hallucinated the whole ordeal, maybe the beverage in its entirety was illusory? But I could still taste the coffee on my breath! I ran to the closest mirror to look my teeth and indeed the residue of coffee still stained them slightly. No, the coffee could not have been an illusion.

I sat down on the couch with a frustrated "harumph!" What sort of silly games is the universe playing on me. Perhaps this is all a dream? Maybe, but it feels much too real. And besides, it would be a completely useless wager to make; if I'm wrong I'll wake up anyways.

My eyes wandered to the other end of the couch, where I noticed the pile of papers that I'd shoved off to the side. They were organized. Neatly in a stack. The unpaid bills that I'd intentionally shoved to the bottom of the pile some days ago had all found themselves on top, as well.

What sort of treacherous divine mockery is being made of me! Is some bored ancient deity teasing me for my carelessness? Or has the machinery of creation at last taken pity on this dreadful sloven? "What is happening to me!" I cried out in desperation.

As if in response, a stiff draft blew through an open window, lifting an empty bread bag into the air, from where it drifted ever so gently into my wastebasket. I slumped back in my seat. It seems lady luck has made herself a maid.

[6azia]

Research | Silco x m!reader

—summary. Y/N goes back to Viktor

—content warning. Shimmer

—word count. 3,2k

—azia‘s notes. Oh gosh I'm soo bad in summaries

Part 3↞ ↠Part 5 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝕾𝖍𝖎𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖗'𝖘 𝕷𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

The lab was quiet again, save for the faint bubbling of a few beakers and the scratch of Singed's pen as he recorded observations in his journal. Silco stood by the doorway, his cigar now extinguished, but the scent of burnt tobacco lingered in the air. His sharp eyes flicked toward the far corner of the lab, where Y/N was wiping down his workstation. Jinx had long since wandered off, content to tinker with her latest project.

Silco stepped closer to Singed, his voice low and deliberate. "Tell me about him. Y/N. Where did you find him?"

Singed paused mid-sentence, his pen hovering over the page. He tilted his head slightly, as though considering how much to share. "He came to me," he said finally, his voice calm and measured. "Desperate, like so many others in Zaun. Smart, though. He learns quickly, faster than most."

"And his past?" Silco pressed, his tone edged with impatience. "What does he want?"

Singed set his pen down and looked up at Silco, his expression unreadable behind his mask. "I don't pry into the pasts of those who come to me, Silco. It's irrelevant. What matters is what they can do now."

Silco's jaw tightened. He didn't like vague answers. "And what can he do, beyond meddling with shimmer?"

"A great deal," Singed replied cryptically. "He has potential, though his motivations are his own."

Silco narrowed his eyes, dissatisfied. His instincts told him Y/N was hiding something, but Singed wasn't the type to betray confidences easily. With a curt nod, Silco turned away, his thoughts racing.

Later that evening, Jinx was clinging to Y/N like a shadow, her arms wrapped tightly around his as they sat in the workshop. "Don't go to Piltover, Y/N," she whined, her voice muffled as she pressed her face against his shoulder. "It's boring up there! And those fancy topsiders don't deserve you."

Y/N chuckled softly, the sound strained as if his mind were elsewhere. "It's just for a bit, Jinx. I need to... handle some things."

She shook her head violently, tightening her grip. "Nope! You're staying here with me! We can work on my bomb together. You promised to help me make it work."

"I will," Y/N said, his voice soft but firm. He gently pried her arms off him and crouched down to her level, looking into her wide, pleading eyes. "As soon as I'm back, we'll finish it together, okay? First working bomb, I promise."

Jinx's pout melted into a bright grin. "You'd better! If you're lying, I'll blow up your lab." She giggled and skipped off, already scheming what modifications to make to her invention.

Y/N watched her go, his smile fading as he exhaled deeply. He grabbed his bag and headed for the door, his movements deliberate but heavy with a kind of weariness.

The trek to Piltover was uneventful, though Y/N couldn't shake the weight of Silco's gaze from earlier. He lit another cigarette, the glow of the ember lighting up his face in the dark. The bitter smoke filled his lungs, grounding him as his thoughts spiraled.

He hates me now, Y/N thought bitterly, flicking ash into the wind. I can feel it. He doesn't trust me, and he probably never will.

And yet... There was something about Silco that intrigued him. Maybe it was the intensity of his presence, the way his sharp words cut to the core of a person. Or maybe it was the twisted sense of loyalty Silco inspired, the same loyalty that made Jinx adore him so much. Y/N didn't want to understand it—didn't want to admit that some part of him almost admired the man.

He took another drag, exhaling smoke into the cool night air. Piltover's glittering skyline came into view, the stark contrast to Zaun never failing to make his chest tighten. But tonight, it wasn't Piltover itself that occupied his thoughts.

It was Viktor.

The small vial of shimmer in Y/N's pocket felt heavier than it should have, its purpose clear in his mind. He didn't tell Jinx, and he certainly wouldn't tell Silco, but he was here for Viktor. Whatever judgment or disdain Silco had for him didn't matter right now. All that mattered was reaching the one person who might truly understand why he did what he did.

Y/N snapped out of his thoughts, realizing he was standing just inside Viktor's modest apartment. The space was small but orderly, filled with bookshelves crammed with journals, blueprints, and strange trinkets from his experiments. A faint scent of oil and paper lingered in the air, along with the comforting warmth of a kettle simmering on a small stove. Viktor turned from his desk, his cane resting against the edge, and smiled faintly at the sight of Y/N.

"You're finally here," Viktor said, his voice carrying a hint of teasing. "I was beginning to think the streets of Zaun had swallowed you whole."

Y/N shrugged, setting his satchel down on a nearby chair. "Let's just say I had some... distractions. But I made it."

Viktor gestured toward the seat opposite him at the small dining table. "Come, sit. I've been going through some theories that I think you'll find fascinating."

Y/N settled into the chair as Viktor poured two cups of tea. The table between them was covered with scattered notes and sketches of intricate designs, but what caught Y/N's eye was a diagram showing a series of overlapping spheres, each labeled with equations and annotations.

"What's this?" Y/N asked, picking up one of the papers.

"A thought experiment," Viktor began, his voice laced with quiet enthusiasm. "The multiverse theory. I've been contemplating how every choice we make could lead to entirely different realities—branching off like rivers into an infinite sea of possibilities."

Y/N tilted his head, intrigued. "You're saying there could be other versions of us? Other... worlds?"

Viktor nodded. "Precisely. If the theory holds true, every decision creates a divergence—a new universe born from that choice. Somewhere out there, there may be a version of you who never left Piltover. Or a version of me who..." He trailed off, glancing at his cane before continuing. "... who walks without aid."

Y/N leaned forward, his curiosity growing. "But how would you prove it? The math alone must be impossible, let alone the technology needed to observe another universe."

Viktor's eyes glimmered with determination. "It's a monumental challenge, yes. But not entirely impossible. If we could manipulate quantum particles—the building blocks of reality itself—we might be able to create a connection. A doorway, so to speak."

"And the risks?" Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow. "If you open a door to another universe, how do you ensure it doesn't destroy everything? Or that what's on the other side doesn't come through?"

"That's the delicate part," Viktor admitted, tapping his fingers on the table thoughtfully. "Stability would be the key. It would require precise calculations and energy levels beyond anything we've harnessed before. But imagine the knowledge we could gain. The advances in medicine, technology, even understanding the nature of existence itself."

Y/N smirked faintly. "Let's just hope the other versions of us aren't better at this than we are."

The two laughed softly, the tension of the heavy topic easing. After a moment, Viktor reached for a loaf of bread sitting on the counter. He tore it in half, offering one piece to Y/N.

"It's not much, but it's all I have to share," Viktor said, his tone apologetic.

Y/N took the bread with a grateful nod. "Better than nothing. Besides, it's good to see you're still eating. You forget sometimes when you're caught up in your work."

The two ate in companionable silence for a moment, the simplicity of the meal grounding them after their abstract conversation. When they finished, Viktor rose carefully, gesturing toward a small couch near the window.

"Come," he said. "Let's rest for a bit. My mind is already spinning with possibilities, but I doubt either of us has the energy to theorize further tonight."

Y/N followed him, settling onto the couch as Viktor took the nearby chair. They sat quietly for a moment, the dim glow of the city beyond the window casting soft light into the room.

"You know," Y/N said after a while, his voice low. "Even if there are other versions of us out there, I think this one's not so bad."

Viktor chuckled softly. "Not so bad indeed. Though, I wouldn't mind stealing a bit of luck from one of those other realities."

Y/N leaned back, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "Luck's overrated. We make do with what we have, right?"

Viktor nodded, his expression thoughtful as they both fell into a comfortable silence, the weight of their shared musings settling into the quiet night.

"Do you have it with you?" Viktor suddenly asked, breaking the wholesome moment with a hesitant voice.

Y/N hesitated, a syringe in his hand trembling slightly as he looked at Viktor. The faint glow of the Shimmer within the vial reflected off Viktor's determined expression. This wasn't just experimentation; this was risk—unknown, uncharted, and potentially deadly.

"You're sure about this?" Y/N asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

Viktor nodded, his face calm despite the slight tremor in his hands. "We've theorized enough, Y/N. The composition makes sense—at least in principle. If it works..." He trailed off, his gaze flickering to the sketches of the Hexcore scattered across the table. "It could give me what I need. The strength to keep going."

"And if it doesn't?" Y/N countered, his voice sharper than he intended. "We don't know what this will do to you. This isn't some minor serum—it's untested, unstable. It could... it could kill you."

"Or it could give me time," Viktor replied, his voice soft but resolute. "And time is something I don't have in abundance."

Y/N sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew Viktor wasn't going to back down. The man's resolve was as unyielding as steel, and his desperation to continue his work was palpable. "Fine," Y/N muttered, kneeling down beside him. "But we don't push it past this one dose. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Viktor said, rolling up his pant leg to expose the pale, thin skin of his upper thigh. His muscles were taut, his body tense with anticipation.

Y/N filled the syringe carefully, every movement deliberate. The faint luminescence of the Shimmer seemed to pulse in rhythm with his own heartbeat. "This will hurt," he warned.

Viktor's lips quivered into a wry smile. "Pain and I are well acquainted."

With a deep breath, Y/N positioned the needle and pressed it into Viktor's thigh. The Shimmer flowed into his body with an almost hypnotic glow, disappearing beneath his skin.

At first, there was nothing—just the faint hiss of Viktor exhaling sharply. But then his body convulsed violently, his hands clenching the edges of the couch as a searing, white-hot pain ripped through his leg. His head snapped back, a guttural cry escaping his throat as his muscles seized uncontrollably.

Y/N's eyes widened, panic flashing across his face. "Viktor!" he called, gripping his shoulder. "Stay with me!"

Viktor's hands shot out, one of them clamping onto Y/N's upper arm with a bruising grip. His nails dug into Y/N's skin as his breath came in ragged gasps, his face twisted in agony. The veins in his thigh began to glow faintly purple, the light spreading slowly through his body like cracks in a fragile glass.

"It—burns," Viktor choked out, his voice barely audible over the sound of his labored breathing.

"I know, I know," Y/N murmured, his own voice trembling. He stayed close, his free hand hovering uselessly over Viktor's arm as if he could somehow will the pain away. "It's the Shimmer taking effect. Just breathe through it—it'll pass."

Viktor's grip on Y/N's arm didn't loosen; if anything, it tightened as the convulsions grew more violent. His entire body felt like it was being torn apart and rebuilt simultaneously, the Shimmer coursing through him with a ferocity that left no part of him untouched. Every nerve was on fire, every muscle straining against the overwhelming surge of energy.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the spasms began to subside. Viktor's body slackened, his grip on Y/N's arm loosening as he slumped back against the couch. His chest heaved, each breath ragged and shallow. The glow in his veins dimmed to a faint shimmer, the only evidence of the Shimmer's presence.

Y/N exhaled shakily, rubbing the marks left on his arm. "You're insane," he muttered, though his tone was more relieved than accusatory. "That could've killed you."

Viktor managed a weak chuckle, his head lolling to the side to look at Y/N. "And yet... it didn't." His voice was hoarse, but there was a spark of something in his eyes—determination, perhaps, or maybe triumph.

"How do you feel?" Y/N asked cautiously, his eyes scanning Viktor's face for any signs of distress.

Viktor flexed his fingers slowly, then shifted his leg experimentally. "Stronger," he said after a moment. "But... unsteady. As though my body is unsure what to do with this new energy."

"That's because it doesn't know," Y/N said, his tone still laced with worry. "Your cells are adjusting to the Shimmer. We don't know how long this effect will last—or what it'll do to you in the long run."

Viktor nodded, his expression thoughtful. "But for now... it is enough."

Y/N didn't look convinced, but he said nothing, choosing instead to sit back and observe Viktor carefully. The room was quiet save for their breathing, the faint hum of the Hexcore sketches a distant reminder of the weight of their actions.

Viktor glanced down at his thigh, where the faint shimmer of the injection site still lingered. "Perhaps," he said softly, more to himself than Y/N, "this is the first step toward understanding what the Hexcore could truly achieve."

Y/N didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the faint glow in Viktor's veins. Somewhere deep in his chest, unease began to coil, tightening with every passing moment.

Viktor's breathing slowly evened out as the pain began to ebb, though his body remained tense from the ordeal. Y/N stayed close, kneeling by the couch, his eyes never leaving Viktor's face. There was an exhaustion in Viktor's expression that went deeper than just the Shimmer's effects—an exhaustion borne of years of relentless struggle.

As Viktor's body finally relaxed, Y/N let out a soft sigh. He reached up hesitantly, brushing a strand of damp hair from Viktor's forehead. The small, vulnerable gesture surprised even him, but in that moment, Y/N didn't care. Viktor looked so fragile lying there, his usually sharp, determined features softened by fatigue. It made something tighten in Y/N's chest—an ache he couldn't quite name.

"You push yourself too hard," Y/N whispered, his fingers lingering near Viktor's temple for a moment before pulling back.

Viktor murmured something incoherent, his head lolling to the side as sleep overtook him. Y/N watched him for a moment longer, his expression softening with a mixture of pity and quiet affection. "Stubborn genius," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head fondly.

Realizing Viktor wouldn't be comfortable staying on the couch all night, Y/N carefully slid one arm under Viktor's shoulders and the other beneath his knees. He stood, lifting Viktor with surprising ease despite his own lean frame. Viktor stirred slightly, his head resting against Y/N's shoulder, but he didn't wake.

Y/N carried him to the bedroom, the sound of his own footsteps muffled by the quiet hum of the city outside. The room was small but neatly organized, every surface cluttered with notes, diagrams, and tools. Gently, Y/N laid Viktor down on the bed, adjusting the pillows to make him more comfortable.

As he pulled the blanket over Viktor, Y/N hesitated, his gaze lingering on the scientist's face. Then, with a sigh, he sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned back against the headboard, pulling Viktor close so that his head rested on Y/N's chest. Viktor's body was warm, and Y/N could feel the faint, rhythmic beat of his heart beneath his palm.

"I'm not letting you go," Y/N murmured, his voice barely audible over the sound of Viktor's breathing. He closed his eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of Viktor's heartbeat. It was a comforting sound, one that grounded him in the present and soothed the gnawing anxiety in his mind.

It wasn't long before Y/N felt his own exhaustion creeping in. His eyes grew heavy, and before he knew it, he had drifted off, his arms still wrapped protectively around Viktor.

The soft creak of the apartment door opening went unnoticed by the two sleeping figures. Jayce stepped inside, his brow furrowed as he glanced around the dimly lit space. He had come to check on Viktor, worried after not hearing from him all day, but what he found stopped him in his tracks.

As Jayce approached the bedroom, he saw them: Viktor and Y/N, tangled together on the bed, their expressions peaceful in sleep. Jayce froze, his chest tightening as he took in the scene. For a moment, he simply stood there, unable to look away.

Viktor's head rested against Y/N's chest, and Y/N's arms were wrapped securely around him, their bodies fitting together as though it was the most natural thing in the world. There was an intimacy to the scene that struck Jayce like a physical blow—a closeness he hadn't realized he craved until now.

He clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw tightening as a wave of emotions crashed over him: anger, jealousy, confusion. He and Viktor weren't in a relationship—had never been—but Jayce had always considered their bond special, something unspoken and unique. Seeing Viktor like this, with someone else, made him feel... betrayed.

Jayce took a step back, his mind racing. He wanted to wake Viktor, to demand answers, but as he looked at his partner's peaceful expression, he hesitated. Viktor looked calm—more at ease than Jayce had seen him in weeks. And Y/N... Y/N wasn't a threat. At least, not to Viktor.

With a heavy sigh, Jayce turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Whatever this was, it wasn't his place to interfere. Not now. As much as it hurt, he would let Viktor have this moment—this fleeting reprieve from the struggles they both faced.

Jayce stepped out into the cool night air, his mind a storm of conflicted thoughts. Inside, Y/N and Viktor remained asleep, undisturbed, the faint sound of Viktor's heartbeat a steady reminder of what Y/N was trying so desperately to protect.

[adriwatchestoku]

Gavv ep 7

Kamen Rider buddy has commandeered my arm. no picture of that because i can't take a picture one handed very well

but here she is before

"i don't know if i can trust the shady guy but i'll be his guinea pig anyway" hanto plz

Okay Kamen Rider Buddy has freed my arm. Correct-ish typing resumes

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAA "is that a gochizo?" "OH FUCK WE STOLE IT DOES HE KNOW"

I AM VINDICATED IN CALLING GOCHIZOS LITTLE DUDES BY GEOSUBS

this fucking scene, said with a smile and a laugh at the end. the visual gags. hanto being a dork.

Oh my god the two of them coming to similar conclusions but at the wrong end of each. Though, Hanto's is actually half correct (Shouma is half human) while Shouma's is… correct if you use some lateral thinking

i mean in order for Hanto to be a Kamen Rider he had to get a Granute organ (what the fuck suga where did you get that) so it's like……. Shouma is kinda? right?

DORKS. ALL OF YOU

This conversation is so fucking funny

Valen. Short for Valentine's. Still chocolate themed. My god you two how are you such dorks

"red gavv. UH I MEAN JUST GAVV YEAH THAT'S BETTER" dude

FUCK why is this so fucking good. why are they so fucking funny

oh hello nyelv

what the fuck do you have in mind

oh that prosthetic on the guy's stomach looks… mm… it looks like someone didn't properly smooth and blend it

I do like the music that plays over the scene of Gavv riding the… what the fuck is that thing called? The pink and blue thing. But the music that sounds like the gochizos chanting in unison. very cute, and it sounds kind of familiar, like they might have sampled something from the early to mid 2000s.

"I thought of your agency" fuck yeah, and you also got her adopted brother to help

they are now siblings in my head because Sachika is a good role model for Shouma and cares a lot for him

oh this montage is precious

Shouma you are so enthusiastic you're forgetting your strength

Oh.

HAHAHAHAHAHA

"Little Red Gavv" is giving Little Red Riding Hood vibes but I don't think that's the intended meaning. I think the twins mean it just derisively.

Oh hey Glotta

she fucking towers over the twins jfc

her outfit reminds me of Gaia's in Final Fantasy XIV. Give her Gaia's hammer. Watch me combust.

everyone is terrified of Glotta. yesssssssssss

what I fucking hate is I love Suga's fashion.

"if there are I haven't met them" well I mean there's dente and I do NOT want you to meet him

protecting Shouma from Suga. Yeah, good call

Being able to see what the gochizo have seen… oh that'll be extremely useful

"Maison gochizo" OH MY GOODNESS

the colour palette for hanto being so different from Shouma and Sachika… Gavv has such a strong visual identity that his darker colour palette really helps cement his personality

oh this gonna be interesting

and yet while Hanto sticks out so much in this brightly coloured series, he is one of the biggest goobers in the cast

the visual of Shouma running behind Hanto while Hanto is thinking about what to do next…

yeah saying "the person went to paris to be a famous artist" is a pretty good cover for why they never returned

but also the gochizo's voice is just. I want that toy.

I love when the henshin can be used offensively or defensively. Like in Build, or when anyone in Kabuto uses Cast Off

who is the fight coordinator in this series give them a massive raise this is great

oh Hanto, Glotta is beyond who you can fight right now. Run

FUCK I am loving that Hanto is actually a competent investigator. Go meet up with Shotaro. He's also competent as a detective, even if he's constantly made to be uncool. He'll teach you some stuff

(Also we get more Kiriyama Renn and I'm always up for that)

I love the personalities that the gochizos have holy shit

… they're cats. They have cat personalities

okay for a second I was like "is… is each chocolate shot making the granute bleed" but no that's just chocolate. damn

Sachika… you tried. You really did. You just… went at it from the wrong angle

oh she has a scythe

ohno

fuck i'm gay