#he has seemed distant in the way that change is hard for Cross (as it is for all the batch)

[moonandst4rs]

“You and I drink the poison from the same vine”

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Masterlist

DEAN WINCHESTER X VAMPIRE!READER

WC: 1.1k

Summary: You and Dean are more alike then you both thought.

Warnings / Content: Inspired by 'Daylight' by David Kushner, angst, no use of y/n

A/N: Sorry posts are slower, i'm hoping to be able to post more soon !! Any requests or feedback is helpful, even if you're just chatting -- they don't need to me music related !!

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The flickering light from the motel room lamp is the only constant, it casts faint shadows against the faded paint on the walls. It’s a dirty, forgotten place, much like all the others Dean Winchester has passed through on his never-ending hunt. You sit across from him quietly, the hum of a distant highway flows through the cracked window. It’s the middle of the night, you assume. You don’t know how long you’ve been here.

It’s been hours since you were both forced into this room. The hunt had gone sideways, Dean had been tracking a nest, and you found yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Except for the fact that you weren't entirely wrong. You had your own reasons for being there.

You glance at him, the famous hunter, the legend whose name spreads fear and awe in equally. He’s every bit as dangerous as they say, sharp eyes, tensed muscles, always on edge. Even now, sitting across the small table from you, he’s ready. He’s always ready. For you. For whatever comes next.

But he doesn’t reach for the knife he’s surely stashed under his jacket. Not yet.

"Still can’t believe I’m not dead right now," you murmur, breaking the silence that’s been stretching for far too long. You can’t help the smirk that plays on your lips, though there's no real humor behind it.

Dean doesn’t respond immediately. His jaw clenches, that familiar muscle twitching in his cheek, the one that shows up when he's thinking too hard or holding back something he’d rather not say. Finally, his voice cuts through the still air, low and rough. "You’re lucky, I guess. If you want to call it that."

You lean back in your chair, your arms crossed, raising an eyebrow. "Lucky? Is that what we’re calling it?"

Dean’s eyes flick toward you, green like a mischievous cat. There's no trust in his gaze, but there’s no real hatred either. He’s conflicted, you can feel it radiating off him like heat from a fire. It’s not every day he shares a room with a vampire and doesn’t end it with a beheading.

"You’ve had your chances to take me out," he says, leaning forward just slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. "And I’ve had mine. So, what gives? Why am I still breathing?"

It’s an odd question, considering you could ask him the same. Instead, you look out the window, watching as the streetlights flicker to life in the distance. "Maybe I’m tired," you say quietly. "Tired of the blood, the running, the endless nights that never change. Maybe I’m just sick of being what I am."

The silence that follows is heavy. You don’t expect Dean to understand. How could he? But then, you think about him, this is a man who has spent his life drenched in the blood of monsters, driven by the same hunger for survival that drives you. He kills because he has to. You feed because you have to. Two different paths, but neither of you had much of a choice.

Dean exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "You think I don’t get tired? You think I don’t wonder why I keep doing this, why I keep fighting when it never seems to end? It’s all blood, all of it. Doesn’t matter whose it is."

You turn to look at him, surprised by the edge of vulnerability in his voice. You’ve heard stories about Dean Winchester, about how he’s a man made of steel, unyielding, relentless. But sitting across from you now, he looks more human than you expected. More broken.

"It’s different for you," Dean adds, his voice hardening again. "You’re a vampire. You chose to live this way."

A bitter laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it. "You think I chose this?" You stand up slowly, pacing toward the window, your reflection faint against the glass. "You think any of us wake up one day and decide we want to be monsters? To be hunted down, to live in the dark forever, watching the world move on without us?"

Dean’s silence is telling. He’s heard it all before, probably from other monsters begging for their lives. But you’re not begging. You’ve never begged.

"It’s the same for you," you continue, turning back to face him. "Maybe you weren’t bitten, maybe you weren’t turned into this thing that has to kill to survive. But you were made into something. The life you live…it consumes you. It makes you into something else. Something…less human."

His eyes narrow at your words, but he doesn’t argue. He knows it’s true. You’ve seen it before, hunters who become so consumed by the hunt that they forget why they started in the first place. They forget who they were before all the killing, before all the death.

"You’re not like them," He finally says, standing up, his hands sliding into his pockets. He moves toward the window, standing beside you, though he keeps a cautious distance. "You’re not like the ones I’ve hunted."

"Maybe not," you admit, your voice softer now. "But it doesn’t change what I am."

Dean’s gaze shifts from the window to you, his eyes searching yours, you don’t know what for. Maybe he’s trying to figure out if he should kill you now, if he should put an end to whatever this tense truce is. Or maybe he’s looking for something else, some sign that there’s more to you than fangs and bloodlust.

"It’s not just about what you are," he says, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. "It’s about what you do."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning. What you do. It’s always been about that, hasn’t it? The choices you make, the lines you’re willing to cross. You’ve killed before, and not always because you had no other choice. But you’ve also chosen not to kill. To walk away when you could have fed.

Dean’s eyes remain fixed on you, and for the first time, you feel a flicker of understanding between you. He doesn’t trust you, not fully. But he knows you’re not the same as the monsters he’s spent his entire life hunting.

"That’s enough for now," you say, breaking the tension. "For tonight, at least."

Dean nods, a small, almost undetectable gesture. He turns away from the window, heading back to the table where his weapons are stashed, he doesn’t reach for them. Not yet.

"Sun’ll be up soon," he mutters, glancing at the clock on the wall. "We’ll figure out what next."

You nod, but neither of you speaks again as the night wears on. You both know there’s no easy end to this. Tomorrow, Dean will have to decide what to do with you, and you’ll have to decide if you’ll stay or disappear into the night before he can make that choice.

Two souls lost in the shadows, bound by the blood on their hands, neither quite human anymore.

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[the-bi-space-ace]

I just thought of some very good dialogue between Crosshair and Echo and now I am tempted to write a fic of them in the very beginning after Echo first joins where Echo is just so stubbornly persistent and Crosshair is Crosshair-ing in the most 'walls up, let no one in' kind of way and it doesn't even need to have a plot it just needs to exist

[accioscarheadthings]

ULTRAMINE ~ CHAPTER 8

kenji sato x reader

summary: kenji gets his girls taken from him and is determined to get you and emi back.

pairings: kenji sato x fem!student!reader

warning: none, violence, use of missiles, fluff, lil bit of spice

masterlist !

you stirred from your sleep as you felt a hand gently caressing your cheek, followed by a trail of soft kisses on your neck. you slowly opened your eyes and found your lover hovering over you, a sleepy smile on his face. the outline of his body in the soft light.

his lips continue to explore your skin, moving down your neck and across your collarbone. his touch was soft and sensual, igniting a fire deep within you.

"mornin', beautiful," he mumbled against your skin, his gruff sleepy voice evident.

you hummed in acknowledgment, hissing in delight when he bit down on your skin gently, "how did you sleep?"

"surprisingly well," he laid his body on top of you, wrapping your legs around his torso under the sheets covering you both, "and you?"

"same," you admitted, holding the side of his face.

kenji's eyes fell on the wound dressing on your chest and trailed his fingers over it, "does it hurt?" he kissed your open palm, snuggling his face.

"no," you replied, raking your hand through his bangs.

"good," he sighed at your touch, lowering himself on top of you, lips hovering over yours.

"kenji," you pressed a finger against his mouth, pushing him back lightly, "can't kiss yet, i got morning breath,"

he supported hiself on his elbows beside your head giving you a look, "think i care 'bout that?"

"i care,"

kenji intertwined his fingers with yours and pinned them above your head. color rose to your cheeks.

"we've done filthier things together, babe," he ground his morning boner against your clothed core, "do i need to remind you again?"

he nosed up the side of your neck, nipping your earlobe,

you gasped at the contact, feeling the warmth of his cock, "kenji, but it's still disgust-mmphh!" the rest of your words came out as a muffled squeal.

kenji pressed his lips against yours, not wanting to hear any of your words. he devoured your mouth, tilting his head for better access.

he rutted his boner harder against you, groaning at the feel. your chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, "k-kenji,"

his pelvis grazed your clothed clit with the right amount of pressure, while he slipped his tongue into your mouth, relishing the pretty noises you made, "mm i love hearing you make those pretty noises for me,"

he pulled back, smirking proudly when you chased after his lips needily.

you glared up at him in mock frustration, "jerk,"

he smooched your forehead, his chest rumbling as he chuckled in amusement.

the two of you spent most of the day in bed, only getting out at noon. you checked in on both professor sato and emi, but in vain.

you swiped through the holograms of info displayed in front of you, trying to see if anything would give you any insight of emi's pupal stage.

the radio was distorted in the background, "it’s the first game of the series and it appears that sato is a no-show. he was absent during yesterday’s practice and team management has been silent on the situation. we’re all hoping he’s okay..."

kenji sat hunched over in the chair beside his father's life support cradle, elbows on his knees, "mina, any change?"

"no, ken. he’s stable but his internal injuries were severe. i’m sorry,"

he stood up, strutting over to where you had your holograms in front of you, "and emi?" he rested a palm against the pupa.

"it’s hard to tell, ken. my sensors can’t seem to penetrate the cocoon," the ai replied.

you shrugged, crossing your arms in front of your chest, "i got nothing. i don't know what would trigger her to get out of her cocoon. I'm going through every material i have,"

kenji sighed, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against your temple, arms wound around your body.

a distant kaiju roar was heard, causing you both to freeze momentarily. you both made your way towards the sliding glass doors.

you squinted your eyes in direction, having an idea of what it may be, "is that...? how is it even possible?"

"no. no, no, no. it can’t be," kenji shook his head, joining your side, "mina, where did that sound come from?"

"it originated from the east, a mile away," the ai responded.

a low pink glow emitted from the cocoon, your eyes widening in alarm, "kenji..."

he turned around to follow your line of sight, "oh, my god."

the pink cocoon slowly started to crack, a soft pink glow emanating from within. the pupa hatched, the chrysalis breaking apart.

tiny wings unfolded and fluttered at the sides to reveal emi waking up from her hibernation. her eyes half-open and still bleary with slumber. she stretched and yawned, adjusting to her surroundings.

"wings!" you gasped, "OF COURSE, IT'S WINGS!" you hollered in a cheer.

emi chirped at you happily, beak opened in excitement at the sight of you.

the very same kaiju roaring was heard once again and emi turned towards it, her ears perking up and she crawled towards the noise and made her way to the balcony.

"huh?" kenji stammered, "emi,"

the kaiju baby screeched, watching the setting sun, wondering where that sound came from and why it sounded so familiar to her.

"no. no, emi. no!" you and kenji ran after her.

"no, girl. emi, look at me," kenji attempted to get her attention, "look at mommy and daddy,"

"this is not good," you mumbled nervously, "emi!"

"mina, i need an analysis. what do you see?"

"scanning, ken," the ai hovered over to you both, "something’s approaching, entering the bay."

this time when you both turned toward the horizon, you could make the silhouette of a kaiju, wings spread at the sides, looking very similar to emi. the very same kaiju that kenji watched die.

kenji gasped, "that’s not possible,"

your mouth slackened, mind spiraling with all the information you had gathered from the kdf. everything they handled regarding the kaiju.

then it clicked: project surrogate.

you froze, "shit. shit,"

emi chittered, dashing towards the edge of the balcony and dove head first down the cliff.

"emi! no!" kenji yelled in terror.

"emi! no, stop!" you tried to stop her.

just before she hit the water below, emi fanned her wings at her sides, swooping through the air as she flew towards what she thought to be her mother.

"mina, take care of dad," kenji held up a fist to change into his ultraman form.

"danger. take evasive action," mina warned.

you looked up to see several missiles shooting towards the mansion, targets locked.

kenji quickly grabbed you, rushing in towards his father's cradle, "mina! shield!"

the smoke and dust settled after the explosion, and the mansion was in eerily silence. kenji began to return to his senses just as mina pulled the debris off of him, her mechanical arm moving the slab of wood from his body.

"kenji. ken?" her voice was distorted. the top of her robotic body was blasted off in the missile attack. she looked like she might collapse at any given moment.

"are you…" mina groaned, her mechanical arm whirring weakly, "ken, are you okay?"

kenji struggled forward on his foot, falling to his knees, "oh, god, mina."

"my systems are compromised. i’ll be offline soon."

kenji stumbled forward, clutching at his chest as he tried to catch his breath. "dad?" he called out hoarsely.

as he reached the edge of the balcony, he saw the wires of the life support cradle hanging lifelessly, a stark and ominous sight in the chaos. but the cradle itself was nowhere to be found.

"mina, is he gone?"

"i’m sorry, but my scans don’t detect life,"

but the heavy dust swirling around him muffled his words, and he found himself coughing and gasping for breath, unable to call out for you.

"kenji," mina spoke slowly, sparks emitting from her side, "i couldn't find her. the kdf took her,"

kenji's heart dropped to his stomach as the ai's words sunk in. he fell to his knees, the weight of her words crushing him. "no...no," he mumbled, a weak cry escaping his lips and he covered his face in remorse.

"ken?" mina dropped to the floor, losing almost all of her power.

kenji rushed to her side, holding her in between his palms.

"i’ve observed you since you were young. i know you have doubts about following in your father’s footsteps, but i see him in you. both of your parents. your mother’s sense of humor, her directness. and your father’s quiet strength. your love for y/n, in the same way, your parents loved each other. it is beautiful. you are an amazing baseball player, kenji. but you were meant to be ultraman,"

mina displayed several holographic videos one after the other, whatever she could reach:

kenji as a child giggling and playing with his parents. both of them sandwiching and hugging him tight in between their bodies.

the holographic video ended and mina cut them, "one more thing, ken. emi’s tracking device is still active. professor sato had a tracker on y/n's suit and i converged it with emi's. you can save them,”

kenji pursed his lips, her words touching him deeply, "mina, i don’t say this enough. thank you,"

"you’re welcome. now go save our girls," mina's voice cracked. she shut down completely, while one of emi's lullabies played from her speakers.

kenji exhaled sharply, resting his head against mina for a second.

his watch beeped, displaying the location of where you and emi were currently at. it seemed to be somewhere in the middle of the ocean.

fueled by a mixture of grief and resoluteness, kenji stood and took a few steps back into the rubble.

with a final glare at the destruction around him, kenji charged forward with a powerful yell, launching himself off the edge of the cliff.

he plummeted toward the water in a free fall, his body tense and focused. he changed into his ultraman form mid-air, shooting through the horizon. determined to get his girls back.

schuwatch!

TAGLIST !

@earth-to-mee @sassy-cat-in-town @breaddippedinorangejuice @nuhteyam @gameboigyu @byunpum @jennypenny-19 @doublebunv @moonjellyfishie @m00nd0v3 @despacito-uwu16 @reivelmin @seyoran @warlike-morning @crimson-mage-02 @b3e-sat0 @miffysoo @t4naiis @lovingyeet  @imsimping4life @mmeerraa @btszn @jusmango-shak @yobriisstuff @goldenpoison @fruchtgeschmack @iateurdad16 @bandolls @lovingyee @reivelmin @f-ergj @arrozyfrijoles23 @aise-30 @simp-hub @armycaratlover @taleiak @ellie-x0xo @femmefqtqle @mp-buezo @bakugouswaif @berryjuicyy @f-ergj @aise-30 @marshhbs @star-flecked-soul @bontensbabygirl @vynwan-cbq @scarasw1f3 @bakugouswaif @deimmortales99 

[keisgirl]

2.0 ; miya atsumu

pairing; atsumu miya x reader

wc; 5k

is being miya atsumus clone the best thing in the world, or will she find a way to carve out her own identity on the volleyball court?

you grew up with the miya twins, tangled in the mess of their rivalry and camaraderie, always in the middle, always keeping up.

they called you the girl version of atsumu, from the moment you first stepped onto the court. same position, same drive, same reckless grin when you won. number seven stitched onto your back like it was meant to be there. you were quick, sharp, loud-mouthed, just like him.

and they never let you forget it.

"oi, girl-tsumu," atsumu would call, slinging an arm around your shoulders. "yer servin’s slippin’. ya gonna let me take the crown this year?"

"dream on, miya," you'd shoot back, flicking his forehead hard enough to make him whine. osamu would snicker, always watching the two of you go back and forth, never stepping in—just there to witness the chaos.

as kids, it was fun. as kids, it felt like being part of something bigger than yourself, like belonging. you bleached your hair when he did, let the color burn your scalp just to prove you could. you matched him beat for beat, dive for dive, living in the shadow he never meant to cast but did anyway.

but then you grew up. and suddenly, it wasn’t as fun anymore.

because when atsumu got praised, you got compared. when atsumu won, you were just second place, the girl version of him, as if you weren’t your own person. the name ‘miya’ carried weight, and even though it wasn’t yours, they tied it to you like a leash. you thought you could be his equal, but all they saw was an echo.

“yer too sensitive,” atsumu says one day, after you snap at a teammate for calling you ‘atsumu with a ponytail.’

your hands curl into fists, nails digging into your palms. “maybe yer too blind.”

atsumu blinks. “huh?”

“yer too blind to see that i ain’t you.”

the words hang in the air between you, sharp and cutting. you see the moment he realizes, the moment he pieces together every forced smile, every tense laugh, every time you swallowed down the bitter taste of second place.

his mouth opens, but you don’t wait to hear whatever he has to say. you just turn and walk away, wondering if you’ll ever stop being a reflection.

suddenly, you don’t play volleyball anymore.

suddenly, you’re not inarzaki’s genius girl setter.

suddenly, you have black hair.

suddenly, you don’t feel like yourself.

suddenly, you don’t talk in class.

suddenly, you’re first in grades, not in physical education.

suddenly, the girl who used to be on the court screaming at her teammates is now the one sitting in the back of the classroom, silent, unnoticed.

and people start to notice.

your teachers hesitate before calling your name, expecting the loud, confident voice that used to answer so easily. your classmates steal glances at you when tests get handed back, murmuring about how you’ve replaced your talent for setting with perfect grades. the volleyball team stares at the empty space on the court where you used to stand, the absence of your presence a hole they can’t seem to fill.

osamu, usually unbothered by everything, nudges atsumu one afternoon. “ya talk to her lately?”

atsumu scoffs, crossing his arms. “she’s the one avoidin’ me.”

“yeah?” osamu raises an eyebrow. “or maybe ya just never noticed how much she hated bein’ ya shadow.”

atsumu doesn’t have a comeback for that. because deep down, he knows. he just never thought you’d actually leave. never thought you’d change so much, that the fire in your eyes would be replaced with something distant, unreachable.

so one day, he corners you after school, standing in front of your desk before you can escape.

“what the hell’s goin’ on with ya?” he demands.

you don’t look up from your notebook. “nothin’.”

“bullshit,” he huffs, grabbing your pen and tossing it onto the desk. “ya dyed yer hair, quit the team, don’t even look at me no more—how the hell is that nothin’?”

you sigh, finally meeting his gaze. there’s something tired in your expression, something he’s never seen before. “it ain’t sudden, ‘tsumu.”

and that’s what scares him the most. because if it wasn’t sudden, then that means it was happening all along. and he just never saw it.

“i left alive, but at the same time, i felt like atsumu miya, ya know?” you murmur, voice quieter than he’s ever heard it. “like i wasn’t myself. i was just... you.”

atsumu stiffens, his breath catching.

“besides,” you continue, leaning back in your chair, staring at the ceiling. “the girls’ volleyball team can manage just fine. it’s not like we ever made it to spring high anyway.”

third year. the last year.

atsumu feels the weight of your words settle deep in his chest. there’s something final about them, something irreversible. and for the first time in his life, he doesn’t know how to fix it.

atsumu tries to ignore it at first.

he tries to act like nothing’s changed, like you’re still the same person who used to stand shoulder to shoulder with him, the one who used to bicker with him over who had the better toss, who used to swear up and down that one day, you’d be the setter people remembered most from inarizaki.

but he can’t ignore it. not when you won’t even look at him, not when every interaction between you now feels like he’s talking to a stranger.

he watches from the court, gaze flicking to the empty space on the benches where you used to sit. back when you stayed after practice even if you didn’t have to, back when you’d drill him on his serves and let him rant about whatever was on his mind. back when he never had to think twice about where you’d be—because you were always there.

except now you aren’t.

he lasts a month before he finally snaps. before he marches into your classroom after school, ignoring the way your classmates whisper as he looms over your desk.

“we’re talkin’. now.”

“no, we’re not.”

atsumu’s jaw clenches. “yer bein’ real difficult, ya know that?”

“not my problem.”

his patience wears thin. “what the hell happened to ya?”

you exhale through your nose, flipping a page in your notebook like he isn’t standing there, like he isn’t practically shaking with frustration. “i grew up, atsumu. maybe ya should try it sometime.”

“bullshit,” he hisses. “growing up don’t mean abandoning everything ya cared about. ya loved volleyball.”

“yeah? well, maybe it didn’t love me back.”

that shuts him up. because he doesn’t know what to say to that—doesn’t know how to argue against something so heavy, so full of something he doesn’t understand.

his fists tighten at his sides. “ya really just gonna throw it all away?”

“what’s left to throw away?” you mutter, finally looking up at him. and there’s something in your eyes, something hollow and tired and so unlike you that it makes his stomach twist. “i was never really playin’ for myself anyway.”

he swallows hard. “that ain’t true.”

but you only shake your head, gathering your things before standing, brushing past him like he’s not even there.

“if it ain’t, then why did it feel like i had to disappear to be seen?”

and atsumu has no answer for that either.

“ya got it bad,” osamu remarks one afternoon, watching atsumu glare at his untouched lunch.

atsumu scoffs, stabbing his chopsticks into his rice. “shut up.”

“yer miserable,” osamu continues, undeterred. “and ya know why.”

atsumu doesn’t respond, just shoves a bite of food into his mouth like that’ll stop his brother from talking. it doesn’t.

“always hoverin’ around her, always lookin’ like a kicked puppy when she ignores ya.” osamu shakes his head, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “if ya ask me, it’s kinda obvious.”

atsumu scowls. “nothin’s obvious.”

“except that ya like her.”

he nearly chokes on his food. “what?!”

osamu raises an eyebrow, entirely unimpressed. “oh, come on. ‘tsumu, ya been in love with her since we were kids.”

“yer talkin’ shit.”

“am i?” osamu leans back, arms crossed. “then why does it bother ya so much that she’s not playin’ anymore? why can’t ya let it go?”

atsumu opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. because as much as he wants to deny it, the truth is sitting right there, laughing in his face.

he’s spent years trying to outrun it, masking it with teasing and rivalry, with stupid fights and mindless competition. but now that she’s gone—now that she’s slipping further and further away—he realizes that osamu’s right.

he’s always been in love with you.

he finds you after school, waiting outside the gates, hands shoved into his pockets like it’s just another day.

“what now, atsumu?” you sigh, stopping in front of him.

he exhales sharply, staring at you like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle he should’ve figured out years ago. “yer right,” he says finally. “i never saw it.”

you blink, caught off guard. “saw what?”

“that i was losin’ ya,” he admits, voice quieter than usual. “that ya weren’t just my reflection. that ya were yer own person this whole time.”

there’s something vulnerable in his face, something raw, and it makes your chest ache in a way you don’t want to acknowledge.

“i don’t want ya to disappear,” he continues. “not from volleyball, not from me.”

you hesitate, searching his expression for any sign of insincerity, but all you find is honesty. and maybe a little desperation.

“i dunno if i can go back to the way things were,” you murmur.

atsumu nods. “then let’s make somethin’ new.”

he’s close now, closer than he’s ever been, and suddenly, you’re not just thinking about volleyball, about rivalry, about anything other than the fact that atsumu miya is looking at you like you’re the only person in the world.

“i mean it,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t want ya to just be the girl version of me. i want ya to be my girl.”

your heart stumbles in your chest, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you’re standing in his shadow. you feel like you’re standing beside him.

and this time, you let yourself smile.

atsumu had already confessed.

it had been awkward and kind of messy, because he’s atsumu and of course it was, but it was real. undeniable. a moment so big and sudden that it left you standing at a crossroads with no map, no clear direction except the weight of his words anchoring you to the present.

so you said yes.

not just to him, but to volleyball. to trying again.

except trying again means stepping back into a world that’s always seen you as someone else’s shadow. and no matter how much you want to believe that things will be different this time, it’s hard not to slip back into old habits.

“damn, ya even move like him.”

it’s a passing comment from a teammate, said with no real bite, but it still sticks. the way it always does. the way it always has.

you shake it off, try to ignore it, but the more you play, the more you notice it too. the way your hands twitch into the same mannerisms, the way you call plays with the same sharp confidence, the way your presence on the court starts to feel less like yours and more like his.

and maybe that wouldn’t bother you so much if you hadn’t fought so hard to be something else.

“what’s goin’ on with ya?” atsumu asks one day, watching as you linger in the gym long after practice has ended.

you don’t turn to face him. “nothin’.”

“bullshit.”

his footsteps echo against the polished floors, stopping just behind you. you know he’s waiting for you to talk, but you don’t know what to say, don’t know how to explain the creeping feeling of losing yourself all over again.

“i just…” you exhale, gripping the ball in your hands. “it’s stupid.”

“it’s not.”

he says it so easily, so confidently, like it’s a fact. and that alone makes something tighten in your chest.

“everyone still sees me as your copy,” you admit finally. “i don’t know how to play without fallin’ back into it.”

atsumu is quiet for a moment, and then, gently, he reaches out, fingers curling around your wrist, thumb brushing against your pulse.

“then stop tryin’ to be different from me,” he murmurs. “just play like you.”

your breath catches.

because you never thought of it that way before. you’d spent so much time trying to prove that you weren’t just another miya atsumu that you forgot to figure out who you actually were.

“easier said than done,” you mutter, but there’s no real bite to it.

he grins. “yeah, well, lucky for ya, i happen to be an expert at bein’ myself.”

it’s stupid. it’s so stupid. but it makes you laugh anyway, and when he leans in to steal a kiss, you let him, because for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you’re drowning in someone else’s reflection.

you feel like you.

playing like yourself, as it turns out, is just playing like him.

but that’s okay, you think. because this time, you’re not fighting against it—you’re making it your own.

and maybe that’s why, for the first time in inarizaki’s history, both the boys’ and girls’ teams qualify for spring high.

It happened fast. one practice game, then another, and suddenly, the tickets are in your hands, the realization sinking in. you’re going to spring high. and apparently, word has spread fast enough that university scouts are interested in watching you play.

but that’s a thought for another time.

because right now, you’re in a gym, tying your freshly bleached hair back into a ponytail, watching as atsumu scowls at you like you personally offended him.

“what?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

he gestures vaguely at your head. “yer tryin’ to steal my look.”

“please,” you scoff. “if anything, i pull it off better.”

“ya wish.”

“i know.”

before he can throw a comeback, osamu saunters over, phone in hand, suna right behind him.

“oi, oi,” suna muses, tilting his head as he looks between you and atsumu. “this is gettin’ kinda creepy.”

osamu hums, nodding. “y’know, we always joked about ya bein’ the girl version of ‘tsumu, but now? now yer just his clone.”

“take a picture,” suna says, already pulling his own phone out. “this moment deserves to be remembered.”

“yer both the worst,” atsumu grumbles, but he doesn’t move away, and neither do you.

because as much as you roll your eyes, as much as you pretend to be annoyed, there’s something warm about the way osamu adjusts the camera angle, about the way suna snickers under his breath before snapping the photo.

it’s a moment that feels like childhood and the future all at once—like proof that, no matter what happens, you’ll always have this. always have them.

spring high awaits, but for now, you let yourself enjoy this. let yourself smile as suna shoves the phone in your face, as atsumu ruffles your hair, as osamu mutters something about how he’ll use this to embarrass you both later.

it’s stupid. it’s so stupid.

but it’s yours.

spring high is everything you expected and nothing like you imagined.

the energy is electric, the anticipation thrumming under your skin as you step onto the court. it’s bigger than anything you’ve ever played in before, and yet, it doesn’t scare you. not this time.

maybe because you know you belong here. maybe because, when you glance at the boys' court in the other venue, you know he’s there too.

it’s funny. for so long, you hated being compared to atsumu. hated the way people called you his copy, his shadow. but now? now you don’t care. because you’re not his copy—you’re his equal.

but not everyone sees it that way.

on the way to the restroom before your next match, you overhear them—two university scouts talking in hushed voices.

“she plays just like miya atsumu,” one says, almost amused.

something tight coils in your chest, the words digging under your skin, itching like an old wound. but before you can turn away, the other scout hums thoughtfully.

“or maybe,” they say, “miya atsumu plays just like her.”

that gives you pause. because for the first time, it isn’t a comparison meant to diminish you. it’s a statement that acknowledges you—your skill, your presence, your worth.

and suddenly, the tension melts away, replaced with something lighter, something almost giddy.

you hold onto that feeling as you return to the court, and later, when you catch atsumu during a break between matches, you can’t help but tell him about it.

“guess what i heard?” you start, rocking back on your heels as he tilts his head at you.

“somethin’ dumb, probably,” he says, deadpan.

“nah,” you grin. “somethin’ real nice, actually.”

you pause for effect, then smirk. “some scouts said i play just like miya atsumu.”

he scoffs. “duh.”

“but,” you add, savoring the moment, “the other scout said maybe miya atsumu plays just like me.”

that makes him pause. his brows lift slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching up as he considers your words. then, after a beat, he huffs a laugh, reaching out to ruffle your hair.

“‘bout time someone got it right.”

when you step onto the court again, you play the way you always have—with precision, with instinct, with a fire that matches his in every way. you don’t have to fight against it anymore, don’t have to deny the way your movements sync up, the way your presence commands the game just like his does.

it’s a hard game. the best teams in the country are here for a reason. but you push through, setting perfect balls, making impossible saves, throwing yourself into every point like it’s the last one you’ll ever play.

and then you win. not the whole tournament—not yet—but the match, the one that guarantees you another game, another chance to keep going.

when you walk off the court, chest heaving, jersey damp with sweat, there’s someone waiting for you near the sidelines.

“ya looked good out there,” atsumu says, arms crossed, a stupid grin on his face.

“you too,” you reply, shoving his shoulder as you walk past.

but he catches your wrist, spinning you back around before you can go. there’s something in his eyes, something different. something you’re still getting used to.

“yer the real deal,” he says, softer this time. “not just ‘cause ya play like me. ‘cause ya play like you.”

your heart stumbles in your chest, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you in this massive stadium, the rest of the world fading away.

then he grins again, tugging you closer, voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “but i gotta admit, we do look good together.”

“oh my god,” you groan, yanking your wrist free. “don’t make me regret bleachin’ my hair.”

he laughs, easy and warm, and when you walk away, you don’t have to look back to know he’s still watching.

because this time, you’re not walking alone.

nevermind, spring high is chaos.

it’s sweat and exhaustion, adrenaline and pressure, the deafening sound of the crowd screaming for a win. it’s the last chance for third-years. it’s everything and nothing at once.

the boys’ team blazes through their matches, tearing down opponents like it’s their only purpose, and you do the same. for the first time in your life, you’re not just keeping up with atsumu—you’re standing beside him, in your own court, your own battlefield, chasing the same dream.

but dreams don’t always end the way you want them to.

it happens fast. the boys make it to the finals, just like everyone expected them to. but across the net is karasuno. an unpredictable team, a team that shouldn’t have even made it this far, a team that plays with something reckless and untamed in their veins.

it’s a war. point for point, neither side gives in. atsumu is sharper than ever, his sets perfect, his serves cutting through the air like a weapon. you winced when his set was a bit off then sighed when osamu reached it. but on the other side, there’s hinata. and kageyama. and something about them just doesn’t break.

and then, just like that, it’s over.

inarizaki loses.

for a moment, there’s only silence. then the reality crashes down, the weight of it pressing against their shoulders. suna looks pissed but resigned. osamu looks torn between frustration and acceptance. and atsumu—

atsumu is staring at the scoreboard, jaw clenched, hands in fists, like he’s trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping through his fingers.

you don’t say anything, don’t try to tell him it’s okay, because you know it isn’t. so instead, you wait until the crowd thins, until the interviews and formalities are over, until he’s finally sitting in the hallway outside the locker room, staring at the floor.

“it wasn’t enough,” he mutters when you sit beside him.

“it never is,” you say.

he laughs, but it’s hollow. “yer not gonna tell me we did great?”

“nah,” you lean back against the wall. “you wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

he exhales, sharp and tired, then turns his head to look at you. you meet his gaze, steady and knowing, because you’ve both lost before. you’ve both fought for something and had it slip through your fingers. you know what it feels like.

but you also know that this isn’t the end. not for him. not for you. not for any of you.

“yer up next,” he finally says, nodding towards the girls’ side of the tournament. “ya better win.”

“duh.”

and maybe that’s enough. for now.

because even in the aftermath of loss, there’s still the next game. still the next step. still the future waiting for both of you.

and you’ll be ready.

when you step onto the court for the semifinals, the crowd stirs. whispers ripple through the stands.

“number seven…? looks exactly like that number seven on the boys’ team.”

“they play the same too, don’t they?”

“no, she’s sharper, her feints are cleaner.”

“nah, atsumu’s serves are better.”

“but she’s fast. like—really fast.”

you hear it all. you always have. but this time, it doesn’t weigh as heavy. this time, when you glance towards the stands, atsumu’s sitting there with his arms crossed, a smirk on his face like he already knows you’re about to shut them all up.

and you do.

by the time the match is over, there’s no more comparisons. no more questions. you make sure of it.

you blaze through sets, direct plays with the precision only someone like you can manage. the semifinals are grueling, the longest, most exhausting game you’ve ever played. your body aches, your lungs burn, but you don’t stop—because this is your last year. your last chance. and you won’t let it slip away.

when the final whistle blows, you don’t even register it for a second. you’re staring at the scoreboard, at the impossible score, at the realization hitting you like a tidal wave.

inarizaki’s girls’ team made it to the finals.

before you know it, you’re being tackled, arms wrapping around you, voices screaming in your ears. your teammates are crying, laughing, shaking with disbelief. and when you finally glance towards the stands, atsumu is on his feet, cheering louder than anyone else.

“she’s good.”

“she’s atsumu’s twin.”

“nah,” the voice comes from a coach sitting close to the court, watching you with interest. “maybe atsumu is hers.”

when you hear it, your lips twitch into a smirk.

later that night, you tell atsumu, smugly, playfully. he groans, ruffling your hair even though it’s already messy from the match.

“shut up.”

“not my fault you got overshadowed.”

“yer my girlfriend, you should be nice to me.”

“i am nice. i let you sit next to me.”

he flicks your forehead, but his grin is unmistakable.

and maybe—just maybe—that’s the best part of all of this.

not the wins, not the competition, not even proving yourself.

but knowing that no matter what, you and atsumu will always be standing next to each other, pushing each other forward, even if the world only sees one shadow.

but the night after the boys' loss is quiet, too quiet. (maybe cause they got lectured after being praised)

even with the weight of victory on your shoulders, you can feel the air around you, heavy with disappointment. the inarizaki boys were supposed to go all the way, to take the championship, to cement their names in history. instead, they lost. and no matter how well they played, no matter how hard they fought, the sting of it is still fresh.

atsumu hasn’t said much. osamu is silent, suna is brooding, and the rest of the team is lost in their own thoughts. but even with all that, they still show up for you. still cheer for you. because you made it. because the girls' team, the brand-new, barely-established girls' team, is in the finals.

“yer gonna win,” atsumu says that night, his voice hoarse from shouting during your semifinals. he leans back against the wall in your hotel room, arms crossed, eyes sharp. “yer gonna bring back that trophy.”

“you sound so sure,” you murmur, stretching out your leg, wincing slightly.

his gaze flickers to you, narrowing. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing.”

it’s a lie. your knee has been screaming at you since the second set of the semifinals, but you didn’t say anything. didn’t let it show. you don’t have time to be injured. not now. not when you’re one game away from winning it all.

atsumu watches you for a second longer, then sighs, ruffling his hair. “don’t push too hard.”

“i always push too hard.”

he lets out a breath, something almost like a laugh. “yeah. i know.”

later that night, as the team settles in, as exhaustion weighs down on everyone, you stay awake. staring at the ceiling. feeling the dull ache in your knee, feeling the pressure settle on your chest. you think about everything that’s led you here, about the hours, the sacrifices, the moments of doubt and frustration.

and then you think about tomorrow.

one more game.

one more chance.

and no matter what, you’re going to take it.

the finals.

the first set is smooth, clean. you send a perfect toss to your wing spiker, and they score. your movements are fluid, precise,muscle memory carrying you through. you can feel the weight of every pair of eyes in the gym, hear the murmurs in the crowd.

“number seven…?” someone whispers the same phrase heard multiple times again. “looks exactly like that number seven on the boys’ team.”

atsumu’s name is everywhere, floating through the stands. comparisons, expectations, judgments.

second set, things start slipping. your sets are a little off, the timing just a fraction of a second late. you don’t miss, but you don’t feel right, either. the moment the ball leaves your hands, you can feel the weight of atsumu and osamu’s stares from the stands. especially atsumu’s.

third set. you send a toss too far, forcing your spiker to stretch for it. you grit your teeth. something is wrong.

you dump the fourth ball yourself, surprising the blockers, earning a point. but your team is still trailing by three.

fifth set. you go for a quick set to your middle blocker, jumping–-

pain. your knee gives out mid-air.

you don’t hit the floor hard, but the moment your knee buckles, the entire gym gasps. you wince, not in pain, but in frustration, in disgust. because you already know what comes next. you can already hear atsumu’s voice in your head, his inevitable lecture. he cares—he always does—but the competition is bigger than that. and you? you didn’t even last the first full game to three.

as the referee calls for a timeout and your coach rushes over, you swallow hard, forcing yourself to sit up. you don’t want to look at the stands, don’t want to see the expression on atsumu’s face. you already know what it’ll be.

but the game isn’t over yet.

and you sure as hell aren’t done.

“you’re done.”

atsumu’s voice is sharp, cutting through the noise of the gym like a blade. he stands (spawns??) in front of you, arms crossed so tightly his knuckles are white. there’s a fire in his eyes, something between anger and worry, something barely held back.

“no, i’m not.” your voice is steady, but your body betrays you. your knee screams when you try to straighten up, the weight of your stance unsteady, but you refuse to let it show. not to him.

“yer knee just gave out,” atsumu says, voice rising with frustration. “you can’t even stand properly, dumbass. ya think yer gonna play like that?”

“watch me.”

he scoffs, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. “yer so goddamn stubborn. do ya even hear yourself? ya wanna wreck yerself for this one game? ya wanna throw away everything ya worked for, all for what?”

“you wouldn’t back down.”

the words are like a slap. atsumu flinches. his mouth opens, but nothing comes out. for once, he has nothing to say.

so you press on. “if it were you, you’d keep playing. you wouldn’t give up just because of some stupid knee pain.”

his hands curl into fists at his sides. “yeah, maybe i would. but that ain’t the point.”

“then what is?” you snap, stepping closer. “you don’t get to lecture me about pushing myself when you’ve done the exact same thing! you don’t get to stand there and tell me to stop when you never have!”

his jaw clenches. “it’s different.”

“how?!”

his voice finally cracks. “because i ain’t watchin’ someone i care about destroy themselves in front of me!”

the words hang in the air, heavy, suffocating. your breath catches in your throat.

the gym is too loud, the echoes of sneakers squeaking against the floor, the sound of the crowd buzzing in your ears. and yet, all you hear is him.

you swallow hard. “i’m playing.”

atsumu exhales sharply, shaking his head, something like defeat flickering across his face. “yer impossible.”

“and you talk too much.”

he lets out a dry laugh, bitter and frustrated, but he doesn’t stop you. he just mutters, “fine. go. see how far ya get.”

so you do.

the deuce drags on. and on. and on.

34-34. then 35-34. then 35-35.

you can hear the announcers losing their minds. you can hear the crowd buzzing, the tension so thick it makes the air feel heavy. no one is backing down. no one is letting up.

every muscle in your body screams. your legs are barely holding up. every time you land, the pain ricochets up your knee like a gunshot, but you bite down hard on the inside of your cheek and keep going. keep setting. keep pushing.

38-38. then 39-38.

one more point.

one more chance to finish this.

your hands tremble as you wipe your palms on your jersey, blinking back the tears blurring your vision. not from emotion, not from frustration—from pure, unbearable agony. you can’t feel your legs anymore. your arms are heavy, your body is screaming, but you refuse to stop. you refuse to let it end here.

atsumu’s voice echoes in your head.

“ya wanna ruin yourself for one game?”

“yer impossible.”

you take in a shaky breath, shaking his voice out of your mind. you have to focus.

the next serve flies over the net like a bullet. your libero gets under it, barely keeping it up. you sprint forward, nearly stumbling, fingers reaching for the ball—

you set.

perfect.

your spiker jumps, swinging, hitting clean, sending the ball crashing into the court on the other side.

40-38.

match point.

but you don’t get to celebrate.

because the moment the ball hits the ground, the moment the whistle blows, your legs give out.

you collapse.

the world tilts, your vision spinning, the sounds around you muffled and distant. you barely register the hands grabbing at you, the voices shouting your name. all you can feel is the burning in your lungs, the numbness in your legs, the tears slipping down your cheeks, unchecked, unstoppable.

you don’t know if you won. you don’t know if you lost.

all you know is that it’s over.

[enemiestolovershoe]

Hiii glad youre feeling better. I would love an angsty enemies to lovers with Noah Sebastian!

Maybe they finally confess their love accidentally during an argument after one too many drinks while on tour.

Unintentional Rivalry

Noah Sebastian x fem!reader

Enemies to Lovers / Band AU

Summary: Y/N has worked with Bad Omens for three years, never getting along with Noah. But one reckless, alcohol-fueled night changes everything.

Words: 5,6k

Warnings: Use of y/n, not proofread, alcohol, shouting and fighting, crying, making out, the other band members watch everything, lmk if i forgot something.

3 years ago

You hadn’t always been a die-hard Bad Omens fan. In fact, your journey to working for the band was purely by chance, the kind of thing that made you believe in fate—or sheer dumb luck. Three years ago, you were just another person looking for a way into the music industry, taking odd jobs here and there. Your friend had been a tour manager for another band when she called you up in a frenzy one day.

"Hey, you’re good with merch stuff, right? Like, sales and all that?"

You’d laughed because you were good—numbers, organization, talking to fans, you nailed it every time. That day, your friend explained how Bad Omens was looking for someone reliable to run their merch stand for the remainder of their tour, and they were desperate. You said yes because why not? A job’s a job.

You showed up the next day, met the crew, and got right to work. It didn’t take long for you to impress Nick Folio, Nicholas Ruffilo, and Jolly. They liked you right off the bat. Folio, always the outgoing one, made a point of befriending you first.

“Hey, merch girl!” he’d shouted from across the venue that first week, a big grin plastered on his face. “You’re killing it over there—fans are going nuts. You’re like the merch stand whisperer.”

You’d snorted at the nickname but accepted the praise. Folio was easy to talk to, always joking around and offering snacks between sets. Ruffilo, on the other hand, was the chill one, the guy who offered you tips on how to organize displays better, like he genuinely cared. And then there was Jolly—quiet but warm, the kind of guy who didn’t talk much but could communicate a thousand words with just a look.

Before long, you weren’t just a “random hire.” You were part of the family.

Everyone… except Noah Sebastian.

From the first day you met him, there had been tension. He’d given you a once-over when you’d arrived, dark eyes full of skepticism, and muttered something like, “Hope you can keep up.”

You were nothing if not stubborn, so you’d bitten back: “Don’t worry. I can handle it.”

That exchange had set the tone for your relationship. Noah always seemed cold, distant, like you’d somehow offended him by existing. You, in turn, found yourself getting increasingly defensive whenever he was around, snapping at his sarcastic comments or rolling your eyes whenever he brushed past you like you were in his way.

But it didn’t matter. You weren’t there to win Noah over; you were there to do your job. And you were good at it.

Present Day

The night after a packed show in some city you’d already forgotten the name of, Folio approached you as you packed up the merch stand.

“You done?” he asked, leaning against the wall with an easy grin, his arms crossed.

“Almost,” you replied, folding up the last few shirts and tossing them into a bin. “Why? Need something?”

“Yeah, you to stop being a hermit,” Folio joked. “We’re hitting up a bar. You should come.”

You glanced at him skeptically. “A bar? After that show? Don’t you guys want to sleep for a week?”

“Nah, it’s not that serious. Just some drinks, some billiards, maybe a little karaoke if I can convince Ruffilo,” Folio said, nudging you with his elbow. “Come on. You work your ass off—come have fun for once.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but smiled. It was hard to say no to Folio, especially when he pulled the whole “you deserve it” card.

“Fine,” you relented, pointing a finger at him. “But if you get me drunk, you’re carrying me back to the bus.”

Folio laughed. “Deal. I’ll even princess-carry you if you want.”

When you walked into the bar with the guys, the atmosphere was lively but not overwhelming. Music played softly in the background, and groups of people were scattered across booths and tables. Folio immediately headed toward the bar, dragging you with him to order drinks, while Jolly and Nicholas found a pool table in the corner.

You settled on a simple drink and found yourself relaxing as you took it all in. It was nice to unwind after weeks of nonstop travel and work.

“Hey, you’re smiling,” Folio teased, nudging your shoulder. “I knew you’d have fun.”

“Calm down. I’ve been here for five minutes,” you shot back, but you were grinning.

A voice cut through your small exchange like a blade: “I’m shocked she even agreed to come out.”

You didn’t have to turn to know who it was. Noah.

You spun on your heel, drink in hand, and fixed him with a glare. He stood a few feet away, dressed in black like always, his dark hair messy and falling into his face. He had that same unreadable look in his eyes, the one that always seemed to irritate you.

“Why wouldn’t I come out?” you challenged, raising a brow. “It’s not like I’m the one who locks himself in the bus after every show.”

Noah smirked, a slow, lazy curve of his lips that only made you want to throw your drink at him. “Yeah? Didn’t think you could stand to be around me that long.”

You scoffed. “Trust me, you’re not that special.”

Folio groaned, stepping between you both with his hands up like a referee. “Okay, okay, can you two not start?” he sighed. “We’re here to have fun, remember?”

You crossed your arms but stayed quiet, shooting Noah one last glare before turning back to the bar.

Noah, however, didn’t walk away. He ordered a drink for himself and leaned against the bar a few feet away from you, like he was challenging you with his very presence.

You ignored him, choosing instead to focus on Folio’s rambling story about something dumb Nicholas had done earlier that day. You tried to act like Noah wasn’t there, but you could feel him. It was like the air shifted whenever he was close—tense, electric, and utterly irritating.

What the hell was his problem with you anyway?

And why did it bother you so much?

The night wore on, and despite Noah’s presence, you found yourself enjoying the evening. Jolly destroyed Nicholas at pool while Folio attempted (and failed) to get someone to join him for karaoke. You stayed near the bar, chatting with Nicholas when he wandered over, the two of you laughing over a drink.

It wasn’t until you turned to grab your jacket that you noticed Noah watching you from across the room. His gaze was unreadable, intense in a way that made you pause for half a second. But before you could react, he looked away, like nothing had happened.

You shook it off.

Noah Sebastian was the last person you needed to worry about.

Or so you told yourself.

You didn’t mean to overdo it. You weren’t even a heavy drinker most of the time. But something about tonight made you want to let loose, to forget about the stress of work, the tension with Noah, and the constant grind of being on the road. Folio was laughing at your flushed cheeks as you waved down the bartender for a another round.

“Whoa there, champ,” Folio teased, nudging you. “Didn’t you say I’d have to carry you back if you got drunk?”

“Still applies,” you shot back with a grin, your words already a little looser than usual. “Better start working out, Folio.”

Nicholas laughed from across the booth, raising his drink in mock salute. “She’s gonna drink us under the table, man. Watch out.”

“I can handle it,” you declared, taking another sip, the alcohol warming your veins. For once, you felt light, unbothered. The tension you usually carried in your shoulders started to melt away.

Even Noah’s occasional glances from the other end of the VIP booth didn’t bother you—at first.

But as the drinks kept coming, and the conversations around the table grew louder, you found yourself growing more aware of him. Every time he said something, you heard it. Every time he shifted in his seat, you noticed. And every time his low laugh rumbled through the air, you hated the way it tugged at your attention.

Why did he always have to be there?

“Alright,” Folio announced, clapping his hands together. “I’m getting another drink. Who’s in?”

“Pass,” Jolly said, leaning back in the booth with a small smile. “I’m too old for this.”

“Ruffilo?”

“Already got one.” Nicholas raised his glass, grinning.

Folio turned to you expectantly. “What about you, heavyweight?”

“Let’s do it,” you said, standing with a little more enthusiasm than necessary.

You followed Folio to the bar, and while you waited for the bartender, you felt a presence beside you.

Of course.

Noah leaned casually against the bar, his dark eyes flicking to you as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “Didn’t think you were the type to cut loose,” he remarked, his tone dripping with that familiar sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes, already feeling your patience thinning. “Didn’t think you were the type to talk to me unless you had to.”

Noah smirked. “Just making an observation.”

“Don’t,” you shot back, turning your attention to the bartender.

But Noah didn’t leave. He stayed there, sipping his drink and watching you with that infuriating, unreadable expression.

“You sure you can handle all those drinks?” he asked after a moment.

You turned to him, your irritation bubbling to the surface. “What is your problem, Noah? Seriously. Do you get some kind of thrill out of bothering me?”

“My problem?” he repeated, his smirk fading. “You think I’m the problem here?”

“Yes, I do,” you snapped. “From day one, you’ve been cold, rude, and completely insufferable. I don’t know what your issue is with me, but I’m done pretending it doesn’t bother me.”

Noah’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. “You think I’m rude? You waltzed in here three years ago like you owned the place, acting like you knew everything, like you deserved to be here.”

“Because I worked my ass off to be here,” you countered, your voice rising. “Unlike you, I wasn’t handed everything on a silver platter.”

Noah’s face twisted, and for a moment, you thought he might actually yell at you. But instead, he leaned in closer, his voice low and cutting. “You don’t know a damn thing about me. And trust me, if anyone didn’t deserve to be here, it’s you.”

Your stomach dropped, the weight of his words hitting harder than you expected. But instead of backing down, you laughed bitterly, the alcohol fueling your courage.

“Wow. You’re such an asshole, Noah,” you said, shaking your head. “I don’t know what I ever did to you, but—”

“Maybe it’s not what you did,” Noah interrupted, his voice sharper now. “Maybe it’s what you are. A fake. A wannabe. Someone who only got this job because their friend pulled strings.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, the noise of the bar seemed to fade.

“What did you just say?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“You heard me,” Noah said, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve been riding everyone else’s coattails since the day you got here. You don’t belong in this world, and you never will.”

“That’s enough,” Folio cut in, stepping between you two with a frown. “What the hell is going on?”

But you barely heard him.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you said, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to hold it together.

“Don’t I?” Noah shot back. “I know enough. I know about your little reputation before you got here. How you burned through jobs like they were nothing. How you—”

“Shut up,” you snapped, your vision blurring as tears threatened to fall. “You don’t know what I went through. You don’t know why—”

“Hey!” Nicholas’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and commanding. “That’s enough, both of you.”

But it was too late. The damage was done.

You couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over as you turned away, shoving past Noah and the others to get out of the booth. You didn’t care where you went—you just needed to get away.

“Shit,” Folio muttered, standing up to follow you. But Nicholas stopped him, shaking his head.

“Let her go,” Nicholas said quietly. Then he turned to Noah, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “What the hell is wrong with you, man?”

Noah didn’t answer. He just stood there, staring after you, his glass forgotten on the table.

The cold air slapped you in the face as you shoved the bar door open, your breath hitching with sobs you couldn’t hold back. Tears streamed down your face, hot against the chill of the night. You stumbled toward the lot, the alcohol finally taking hold and making your vision blur.

But none of that compared to the embarrassment. The anger. The pain.

You knew they’d heard it. You’d seen their faces when you glanced back—Nick’s brow furrowed, Folio looking ready to intervene, Jolly frozen in disbelief. And Noah? He just kept throwing verbal jabs like they weren’t all sitting right there in the booth, listening.

Your chest tightened as you stumbled to the far edge of the lot, far enough away that you couldn’t hear the muffled music leaking out of the bar anymore. You sank onto the cold pavement, wrapping your arms around yourself as the tears came harder, shaking your entire body.

“You don’t belong here. You never will.”

His words echoed in your mind, sharper than any blade. You’d worked so hard to earn your place, and yet, in one drunken argument, Noah had reduced you to nothing. And the rest of the band had heard every. Single. Word.

Your stomach twisted painfully. They probably agreed with him. Maybe they’d always thought you didn’t belong and just never said it out loud.

You pressed your palms to your eyes, trying to stop the onslaught of thoughts, but it was no use. You were too far gone—hurt, humiliated, and drowning in the aftermath of the fight.

The bar door opened again, spilling voices into the quiet night.

“She came this way,” Folio’s voice was loud, clear.

“Do you think she’s okay?” Nicholas‘ tone was softer but laced with concern.

“She’s not okay, Nick,” Jolly said simply. “How could she be after that?”

You bit your lip hard, willing yourself to stay silent as their voices grew closer.

And then, “There she is!”

Folio was the first to reach you, crouching in front of you with a mix of relief and worry on his face. “Hey, Y/N. What are you doing out here? You’re freezing.”

You looked away, trying to wipe at your face. “Go back inside,” you muttered, your voice hoarse. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he said firmly, his brows drawing together. “What the hell happened back there?”

“I think we all know what happened,” Nick cut in as he and Jolly caught up, standing a few feet away. “The real question is, why the hell did Noah go that far?”

At the sound of Noah’s name, your chest tightened all over again, and fresh tears welled up in your eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Y/N,” Folio said softly, “you don’t have to protect him. We heard everything.”

Your breath hitched, and you turned your face away. “Exactly,” you said bitterly, your voice breaking. “You heard it. All of it. So just… save the lecture. I know what you’re going to say.”

Nick frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“That I don’t belong here,” you snapped, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “That he’s right. That I shouldn’t have been here in the first place—”

“Whoa, whoa, stop,” Folio interrupted, his voice sharp. “You seriously think we feel that way?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” you shot back, your voice cracking. “He clearly does. And maybe he’s right! Maybe I’m just some fraud who got lucky. Maybe—”

“Y/N, stop,” Jolly said, his calm voice cutting through your spiral. “You’re not a fraud. And Noah’s wrong—completely, absolutely wrong.”

You blinked up at him, your vision blurred with tears. “Then why does he hate me so much?”

Folio ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “Honestly? I don’t think he hates you. I think he’s an idiot who doesn’t know how to handle his feelings.”

“Feelings?” you repeated bitterly, shaking your head. “What feelings? He’s made it perfectly clear that he wants nothing to do with me.”

Nick crouched beside Folio, his expression softening. “Noah’s not as tough as he pretends to be. That doesn’t excuse what he said, but… he’s a mess. Always has been.”

Before you could respond, the bar door opened again, and you froze.

Noah.

He walked out slowly, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his shoulders tense. He glanced toward the group, his dark eyes locking with yours for a moment before flicking away.

“Oh, look,” Folio muttered, his tone sharp. “The man of the hour.”

Noah hesitated, his mouth opening like he wanted to say something, but Nick beat him to it.

“Do you even realize what you just did?” Nick snapped, standing and crossing his arms.

“I—”

“No, let me finish,” Nick interrupted, his voice growing louder. “She’s been nothing but good to us—good to you—and you sit there and tear her apart in front of everyone? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Noah’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.

Jolly shook his head. “We all heard it, Noah. Every word. And you’re lucky she hasn’t told you to fuck off for good.”

“I didn’t mean…” Noah started, but the words faltered. He glanced at you again, his gaze softening. “I didn’t mean to hurt you like that.”

You scoffed, standing up on shaky legs. “Well, congratulations, because you did. And I’m done.”

“Y/N, wait—”

“No,” you said firmly, your voice trembling but steady. “I’m done trying to prove myself to you. If you hate me so much, fine. But don’t pretend you’re sorry now, because I don’t buy it.“ Your legs wouldn’t move, and honestly, you didn’t want them to. Instead, you stood rooted to the spot, staring at the cracked pavement beneath your boots. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as you fought to control the tears that kept coming, your breath shuddering in the cold.

The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating. No one spoke, and no one moved, though you could feel their eyes on you—Folio’s concerned, Nick’s fuming, Jolly’s quietly calculating. And then there was Noah.

You didn’t have to look to know he was still standing there, just a few feet away. You could feel his presence, the weight of his gaze pressing against you. But you didn’t dare lift your head, didn’t dare let him see how broken you felt.

For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of music coming from the bar, and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

And then, softly, there was the sound of footsteps.

You tensed as they got closer, the familiar weight of a jacket settling on your shoulders. You looked up, startled, as Noah stood in front of you, his face unreadable in the dim light.

“Here,” he said quietly. “You’re freezing.”

You stared at him, confused. His tone wasn’t harsh or dismissive like it had been earlier. If anything, he sounded… apologetic.

“Why do you care?” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Noah didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed the gap between you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest.

Your breath caught in your throat.

The world seemed to still as he held you, his warmth cutting through the cold that had seeped into your bones. His touch was firm yet careful, as if he was afraid you’d push him away.

The rest of the band froze, their expressions ranging from shock to confusion.

“Uh…” Folio broke the silence, his voice trailing off as he exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Nick.

But no one said anything else. Not yet.

“I’m sorry,” Noah murmured against your hair, his voice so low that only you could hear it. “I didn’t mean what I said. I was drunk and stupid, and I—” He stopped, exhaling shakily. “I fucked up.”

You blinked, your tears still falling but slower now. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process this sudden shift in him.

“You… you can’t just say sorry and expect everything to be fine,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“I know,” he said quickly, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His hands rested lightly on your arms, his dark gaze softer than you’d ever seen it. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just—I needed you to know that I didn’t mean it. Any of it.”

You stared at him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity. But all you saw was regret.

“Why?” you asked finally, your voice trembling. “Why did you say it?”

Noah swallowed hard, his eyes flicking away for a moment before returning to yours. “Because I’m an idiot,” he admitted. “Because I don’t know how to deal with… with you. You make me feel things I don’t know how to handle, and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your heart pounding in your chest. “Noah…”

“I’m not saying it’s an excuse,” he added quickly. “Because it’s not. I was wrong, and I hurt you, and I hate that I hurt you. But I’m trying to fix it. Please… let me try.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken emotions.

Behind you, Nick cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Uh, not to interrupt or anything, but… what the hell is going on right now?”

Folio elbowed him hard, muttering, “Shut up, dude.”

Jolly just raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable as he watched the scene unfold.

You glanced over your shoulder at the band, feeling their eyes on you, and suddenly the weight of the moment hit you all over again. “I… I don’t know if I can do this right now,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked up at Noah.

For a moment, his face fell, but he nodded, taking a step back. “That’s okay,” he said softly, his voice laced with a quiet resignation. “I get it. I just wanted you to know I’m sorry. Really, really sorry.”

You stood there, frozen, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t know what to say, what to think. But when he stepped back, the warmth of his presence suddenly fading, something inside you snapped.

Before you could stop yourself, you surged forward, wrapping your arms tightly around him. Your head buried into his chest as you held on, your fingers clutching at his jacket like it was the only thing grounding you.

Noah stiffened for half a second before his arms came around you again, even tighter this time. He cradled you against him, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head. “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice trailing off as he held you.

“I don’t understand you,” you whispered into his chest, your words muffled but raw. “One second you hate me, the next… this. I don’t know what to do.”

Noah pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at you, his hands still resting on your back. His gaze was soft now, all the sharp edges gone, replaced with something warm and vulnerable. “I’ve never hated you,” he said quietly. “Not for a second.”

You looked up at him, your brows furrowing. “That’s not what it felt like.”

“I know,” he admitted, his voice thick with regret. “And that’s on me. I… I didn’t know how to deal with how I felt about you, so I pushed you away. I thought if I kept my distance, if I made it seem like I didn’t care, it would go away. But it didn’t. It never did.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“I don’t just care about you,” Noah said, his voice soft but steady. “I—God, this is so fucking hard to say.” He let out a shaky laugh, his hands tightening slightly on your back. “I’m in love with you, Y/N. I have been for a long time.”

The world seemed to stop at his words, your breath catching in your throat.

“When you joined the tour, I told myself it was just a crush. That it’d go away,” he continued, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection. “But it didn’t. Every time I saw you laughing with Nick, or working your ass off at the merch stand, or just… being you, it only got worse. And it scared the hell out of me.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. “So you… what? Decided to treat me like shit instead?”

Noah winced, his face crumpling. “I know. I’m an idiot. A coward. I thought it’d be easier to push you away than to risk feeling something I couldn’t control. But I was wrong. So fucking wrong.”

The vulnerability in his voice, the raw emotion in his eyes—it broke down the walls you’d built to protect yourself.

“Noah,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Why didn’t you just… tell me?”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Because I thought you hated me. I mean, I gave you every reason to. Hell, I deserved it. But I couldn’t stop myself. I kept thinking if I just pushed hard enough, I’d convince myself that I didn’t care. That it didn’t matter.”

“But it did,” you whispered, the weight of his confession settling over you.

“It always mattered,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “And I know I’ve ruined this, that you probably don’t feel the same way, but I had to tell you. I had to try. Because the thought of losing you for good? It’s worse than anything else I’ve ever felt.”

Your chest tightened as his words sank in, every bit of anger and confusion dissolving under the weight of his sincerity.

“I thought you hated me,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “This whole time, I thought you hated me.”

Noah’s face crumpled further, his eyes glistening. “I could never hate you, Y/N. Not even if I tried. And believe me, I tried.”

A watery laugh escaped you, and you shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks again. “You’re so fucking stupid,” you said, but there was no venom in your voice—only a soft disbelief.

“I know,” he said, a faint, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “The stupidest.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the world around you fading away. And then, slowly, you reached up, your hands resting on his chest. “You’re an idiot,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “But… I think I’m in love with you, too.”

Noah’s breath hitched, his eyes widening as he searched your face for any hint of doubt. “You… you mean that?”

You nodded, your heart pounding. “I mean it. And I hate how long it took for us to get here, but… yeah. I love you, Noah.”

He let out a shaky laugh, his forehead dropping to yours. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“Well, now you know,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the tears still lingering in your eyes.

Noah smiled, too, his hands cradling your face gently. “I’m going to make it up to you,” he said firmly. “For all of it. For everything I said, everything I did. I’m going to make sure you never feel like you don’t belong again. You belong, Y/N. With the band. With me. Always.”

Your chest swelled at his words, and for the first time that night, the cold didn’t feel so overwhelming.

“Don’t screw it up,” you whispered, your lips twitching into a teasing smile.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice soft but steady. “Not ever again.” The world narrowed to just the two of you. The warmth of Noah’s hands cupping your face, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch—it was like nothing else mattered. But as you stood there, the quiet around you began to sink in.

You weren’t alone.

Slowly, you glanced over Noah’s shoulder, and sure enough, the band was still there. Nick stood with his arms crossed, one eyebrow arched in confusion. Folio had a barely-contained grin stretching across his face, while Jolly’s stoic expression betrayed just the slightest hint of amusement.

“Well, this is… unexpected,” Nick said, breaking the silence with his usual dry humor. “Do you guys need a private moment, or should we start charging admission for this?”

“Shut up, Nick,” Noah shot back, though his tone lacked its usual bite. His hands dropped from your face, but he didn’t move away, his body still angled protectively toward you.

“I mean, don’t stop on our account,” Folio chimed in, a wide grin plastered across his face. “This is better than any soap opera I’ve ever seen.”

Your cheeks burned, and you ducked your head, biting back an embarrassed laugh. But before you could say anything, Noah’s hand found yours, his fingers lacing through yours with a firmness that made your heart skip.

“Alright, enough,” Noah said, his voice firm but not harsh. “This is between me and Y/N.”

“Sure it is,” Nick said with a smirk, clearly enjoying the moment. “But in case you forgot, we’ve been standing here for, oh, I don’t know, the entire time.”

Jolly finally spoke up, his voice calm but tinged with humor. “So… does this mean the rivalry is officially over?”

You laughed despite yourself, the sound breaking some of the tension. “I guess you could say that,” you said, glancing up at Noah.

“Yeah,” Noah agreed, his eyes soft as they met yours. “No more rivalry.”

Nick groaned, throwing his hands up. “Great. Just great. Now what am I supposed to make fun of during the tour?”

“Don’t worry, Nick,” Folio said with a laugh. “I’m sure they’ll give us plenty of new material.”

Before you could respond, Noah leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gesture so tender it made your heart ache.

“I mean it,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “I’m going to make this work. You and me. No more bullshit.”

You nodded, your chest tightening. “Me too,” you whispered.

Noah smiled, the kind of smile that made your knees feel weak, and then, without any warning, he leaned in and kissed you.

At first, it was soft, sweet, and tentative, as if he was still testing the waters. But the moment your hands found their way to his jacket, tugging him closer, it deepened. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him as the kiss grew more intense, more urgent.

The world faded again, the sounds of the bar and the cold night air melting into the background. All you could feel was him—his warmth, his strength, the way his lips moved against yours like he’d been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

“Okay, seriously, what the hell is happening right now?” Nick’s voice cut through the haze, dragging you both back to reality.

You pulled away, breathless, your face flushing as you turned to see the band staring at you like they’d just witnessed something out of a rom-com.

“This is happening,” Noah said firmly, his arm still around you as he shot Nick a look. “So get used to it.”

Folio laughed, clapping his hands together. “I can’t believe this. I mean, I can, but still. This is wild.”

Jolly just nodded, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “About time,” he said simply.

Nick groaned again, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. I’m going to need a minute to process this.”

“You’ll live,” Noah said, rolling his eyes before looking back down at you. His expression softened instantly, the intensity from before replaced with a quiet, almost shy tenderness. “You okay?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Good,” he said, his voice low. “Because I’m not letting this go. Not now, not ever.”

Folio pretended to gag, earning a glare from Noah and a laugh from you.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Nick said, already heading toward the bus. “Let’s get out of here before someone calls the cops on us for public indecency.”

As the band started to walk off, Noah turned back to you, his hand still intertwined with yours. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice soft but serious.

You squeezed his hand, meeting his gaze with a newfound confidence. “I’m sure,” you said. “No more running. No more pretending.”

Noah’s smile was radiant, and for the first time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Together.

[fckwritersblock]

Something More…

Jinwoo Sung x Black Reader

Description: Drabble. Unedited AF. No real plot, it kind of just starts. A piece I was debating on whether or not I should turn this into something more but for now this is what I got.

A/n: I’ve been in my anime bag heavy lately and I just started bingeing solo leveling since I’ve been sick the past few days. Maybe that’s why I’ve been feeling angsty. Anywho enjoy

---

“Fuck me?!” Jinwoo exclaimed, disbelief etched on his face as he stormed out of his room, hot on your heels.

“Yes! Fuck you, Jinwoo!” You shot back, eyes blazing with anger. You pivoted sharply, jabbing a finger at him, each step you took toward him echoing with the weight of their unresolved issues. “You think I’m jealous of your newfound success? As if I’m the one who’s been blowing you off and acting different—”

“All of a sudden your the victim” Jinwoo interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he crossed his arms defensively, desperately trying to shield himself from the confrontation., trying to mask his own insecurities with bravado.

“Kiss my ass, Jinwoo! I’ve never needed somebody to come and save me!” Your voice was low and fierce, teeth clenched as you hastily shoved items into your duffle bag, the fabric crumpling under the pressure of you frustration. Each piece you packed felt like a part of your friendship being discarded.

“I knew it, I knew you always thought I was weak. That I needed you to save me. Without Y/n, poor helpless Jinwoo would be—”

“Oh, go to hell!” Your voice rose, filled with raw emotion. “That’s never been me and you know it. Who has had your back the entire time? Who has done everything in their power to make sure you come back to your sister alive? Me! Who has encouraged you, pushed you to see how bright you shine in the world before you even became…” you flailed her hands, searching for the right words, “whatever the hell you are now? Me! And you have the nerve to make it seem like your new found power is my problem?!”

“I didn’t mean—” Jinwoo tried to backtrack, the realization of his words crashing down on him as he saw the hurt swirling in your eyes.

“Yes, the fuck you did!” You practically screamed, her voice breaking with emotion. “I couldn’t figure out why you’d been so distant, so cold. Even now you’re standing there trying to hurt me. Me! But now I see it’s because I’m not constantly stroking your ego!”

“Y/n,” he pleaded, reaching for you, but you recoiled, your anger a shield around your heart. Jinwoo wanted to de-escalate the situation, but it was too far gone.

“I’ve always been in your corner, Jinwoo! I’ve always been your biggest fan!” Your voice trembled, the raw vulnerability beneath your anger breaking through the surface. “ Somehow you’ve become this power hungry hunter who won a little bit of attention from some girl and you let it change everything! I always thought we’d… I thought we meant something more.” You paused, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat, fighting to keep your composure. “But I know better now. As much as I want to blame you for making me feel…making me believe, I fucking knew. I always knew, I was foolish to think you could ever love me the way that I love you.”

The confession hung in the air like a heavy fog, and Jinwoo froze, the weight of your words crashing over him like a tidal wave. He hadn’t prepared for this moment, and the paralysis of shock rooted him to the spot. His mouth opened, but no words came—he couldn’t even move as you snatched your keys from the counter, your expression a mask of pain and fury as you gave him one last look before turning to leave.

“Y/n, wait!” he finally managed to stammer, but you were already out the door, slamming it behind you with a force that reverberated through the stillness of the apartment.

Silence enveloped him, the chaos of the argument replaced by a deafening void. He remained rooted to the spot, his heart racing as disbelief and guilt waged war within him. He could hear the soft sound of footsteps approaching and turned to see his little sister, Jinah, standing in the doorway, her expression a mix of disappointment and concern.

“Oppa… you screwed up,” she said softly, the weight of her words sinking deep into him.

“Yeah, Jinah… I screwed up,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, the gravity of his actions settling heavily on his shoulders. He felt like he had lost not just a friend, but a part of himself, leaving him hollow and yearning for a chance to make things right.

[twstowo]

Oya oya, i just need angst so... Can I ask for the housewardens that love a gn!reader but the reader don't love them back ? (One-sided love, my beloved)

♡︎Bestie if you want angst, you came to the right person

♡︎Also, I'm separating this into various posts, I hope that's fine.

[Here] ☆ [Azul and Kalim] ☆ [Vil and Idia] ☆ [Malleus]

⋆⋅☆Riddle

Oh, Riddle was so down bad. He tried his best to remain composed when around you, but how could he even do that? As soon as his eyes landed on your figure, he turned into a blushing mess. All he ever wanted was to hold your soft hands, for it to just be the two of you, for him to stare at your face while you smiled softly at him.

He hates to admit it, but he keeps on daydreaming about you. It annoys him so badly since he wants to focus on his studies, but your face keeps showing up in his mind. By that point, he knew that he had to do something about his feelings, he had to confess.

He had planned everything to the last detail, the way that he would confess to you would need to be perfect, and no mistakes could be made. Trey had watched him go through a list of infinite details that he had written down, lose sleep over making a mistake and he even caught Riddle once daydreaming in the middle of his studies. And as his friend, he had to set in and give him a push towards you.

So there he stood, Riddle dressed up, roses in hand, hair brushed back waiting for you to arrive at the place he had told you to come. He had sent you a message to meet him for tea. The two of you would be surrounded by the cute hedgehogs, as he would give you the bouquet with a shy smile, and by mustering all his courage he would look you in the eyes, determination coming back and he would tell you how much he loved you.

“Y/N for the past few days you are the only thing that has ever crossed my mind, I…I love you.”

“I’m sorry…” he hears those words come out of your mouth and he feels his heart stopping, he tries to speak but the words are still repeating inside his head. You were sorry that you didn’t like him back? Even while rejecting him you were being nice. He tries to remain composed even when you try to return the flowers to him he tells you to keep them, they are yours. But it’s not just the flowers that belong to you it’s also his heart, even after you broke it.

He will be a little distant in the next few weeks, but he could never be rude to you. You had every right to not like him back, and he respects that. Even after months have passed, he thinks about you from time to time. He thinks about what things could have been if you had loved him back, and he questions if he will ever get over you, for you made him feel a way that he had never felt before.

⋆⋅☆Leona

Leona would never admit it, but lately, your company has been making him feel weird, and he isn’t dumb to notice what types of feelings are tugging at his heart. He has fallen for you, and hard, even if he would rather never admit it. He tries to remain as uninterested as ever, but how can he do that when you keep bringing him his lunch to the botanical garden, when you lay down next to him and start talking about your day, when you always seem to show up next to him no matter how much he is trying to avoid you?

He gives up trying to run away from you, but his pride is way too big to confess, so he just starts acting as if the two of you were together. He strangely becomes more affectionate, in his ways, and it takes you a while to realize this strange change of behavior. So, as any sane person would, you ask him why he was acting like that.

“I thought it was clear, aren’t we dating?”

“What are you talking about? I don’t like you that way…” he has this bewildered expression. How come you don’t like him that way? You were always so nice and kind to him. Are you like that to everyone? He is so pissed, beyond pissed. Not even Ruggie can deal with his rude ass. He skips more classes, and if he ever spots you, he gets this annoyed expression that scares everyone around him.

He eventually romantically gets over you but even after months, he holds a grudge against you. He really did feel a connection with you, something he had never felt with anyone else. You made him feel as if he could lower his guard down; you made him feel important as if he was your first option. But clearly, he was wrong about you. He was just another person in your life.

[moon3verland]

Offside Love S.JK

·˚ ◌༘₊· ͟͞꒰➳ Sim Jaeyun (Jake) x Fem!Reader GENRE! Angst, Hurt/Comfort ✎SYNOPSIS! Jake Sim, the star soccer player, is dating (Name), but she feels insecure because of his many female fans, including the popular bully Hyeri. As Hyeri and her friends secretly bully (Name), Jake remains unaware, straining their relationship.〘WC:8.5k 〙 『 ↳✧･ﾟ Warnings ; Bullying ↳˳;; ❝ ʙᴏᴏᴋꜱʜᴇʟꜰᵕ̈೫

The late afternoon sun bathed the campus of Decelis University in a warm, golden hue. The sound of distant chatter and laughter filled the air as (Name) walked through the bustling courtyard, her backpack slung over one shoulder. She had always loved this time of day, when classes were done, and the campus felt alive with energy. But today, her mind was elsewhere—fixated on a single person. More Undercut

Jake Sim.

The thought of him made her heart flutter. He was her boyfriend, after all, but sometimes it felt surreal. Jake was the golden boy of Decelis—star soccer player, popular, and effortlessly charming. Everyone knew his name; everyone wanted to be around him. He was the kind of guy who could light up a room with just a smile.

And he had chosen her.

It seemed like a dream at first. They’d met in a shared literature class, and at first, (Name) had only known him as the guy who sat at the back, half-listening with his cap pulled low over his forehead. But then, one day, they were paired together for a group project, and everything changed. He wasn’t the aloof jock she’d expected; he was funny, attentive, and surprisingly sweet.

Now, a few months into their relationship, (Name) still found herself wondering how she’d gotten so lucky. But with that luck came a creeping sense of insecurity she couldn’t quite shake. She wasn’t blind to the attention Jake got. Girls constantly hovered around him at practice, in the cafeteria, and even during their walks across campus. It was hard not to notice.

She wasn’t the jealous type—at least, she hadn’t been before. But Jake was special, and she couldn’t help but feel a little anxious about all the attention he received.

She entered the library and made her way to their usual study table. Jake had texted her earlier, saying he would be late from practice, so she pulled out her notebook and started reviewing her notes for the upcoming exam.

As she tried to focus on her studies, a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Perfect,” Hyeri sneered, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. (Name) looked up to see Hyeri standing across the table, her perfectly styled hair and designer clothes instantly drawing attention from everyone nearby. She was flanked by her usual group of friends, all wearing the same smug expressions.

Hyeri was beautiful, confident, and undeniably one of the most popular girls on campus. But she had never been friendly toward (Name). Ever since (Name) and Jake started dating, Hyeri had made it her mission to make (Name)’s life difficult. She would leave cutting remarks whenever they crossed paths and spread subtle rumors, always with a perfectly innocent smile.

“Hey, Hyeri,” (Name) greeted cautiously, trying to keep her tone neutral.

Hyeri’s smile widened. “Waiting for Jake again? It must be so tiring, constantly trying to keep up with him. I mean, he has so many admirers. It’s a wonder he even has time for you.”

(Name) felt a sting in her chest but kept her face composed. “Jake makes time for the people who matter to him,” she replied calmly, though she could feel her hands trembling slightly under the table.

Hyeri’s expression faltered for a moment before she quickly recovered, laughing lightly. “Of course. But, just a little friendly advice—you might want to up your game. Not everyone finds a plain, bookish girl like you interesting for long.”

Before (Name) could respond, Hyeri turned on her heel, her friends following like a well-rehearsed routine. (Name) watched them go, her heart pounding in her chest. She hated how much Hyeri’s words got to her. She knew Jake cared about her, but it was hard not to feel threatened.

She sighed, turning back to her notes, but her concentration was completely shattered. She couldn’t help but wonder if Hyeri was right. What if Jake got bored of her? What if he found someone more exciting, more… everything?

A few minutes later, Jake finally arrived, his face flushed from practice, hair slightly damp with sweat. He was wearing his soccer uniform, the jersey hugging his toned frame. He spotted her immediately, a grin breaking out on his face.

“Hey, sorry I’m late!” he said, dropping his bag on the chair beside her. He leaned down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, but she pulled away, pretending to focus on her notes.

“Is everything okay?” Jake asked, his smile fading slightly. He could sense the change in her mood immediately.

“Yeah, just a lot on my mind,” (Name) replied, forcing a small smile. “How was practice?”

“It was good. Tough, but good,” Jake said, still eyeing her with concern. He reached over, placing a hand on hers. “You sure you’re alright?”

She nodded quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

Jake didn’t look convinced, but he decided not to push her. He knew (Name) well enough to recognize when she needed space. “Alright,” he said softly. “But you know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

(Name) nodded, but she couldn’t bring herself to open up. How could she tell him about Hyeri’s words without sounding petty or insecure? She didn’t want to be that girlfriend—the one who couldn’t handle a little competition.

Jake squeezed her hand gently, offering a comforting smile. “Hey, don’t worry. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together.”

She appreciated his support, but she couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. She knew he meant well, but the insecurities were hers to deal with, not his. Still, she managed to return his smile, squeezing his hand back. “Thanks, Jake.”

Jake leaned back in his chair, looking relieved. “Good. Now, let’s focus on this exam. You’re the genius here, so I’m counting on you to help me pass.”

(Name) chuckled, grateful for the light-hearted change in topic. “Alright, let’s get started then. But don’t blame me if you fail.”

Jake laughed. “Deal. But I won’t fail. Not with you around.”

They settled into a comfortable rhythm of study, but (Name)’s mind kept drifting back to Hyeri’s words. She hoped she could push them away, but something told her it wouldn’t be that easy.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

The next few days passed in a blur of classes, soccer practice, and study sessions. (Name) tried to push her insecurities to the back of her mind, focusing instead on her studies and her time with Jake. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling of doubt that crept in whenever she saw him surrounded by his admirers.

It didn’t help that Hyeri seemed to be everywhere lately, her presence like a shadow that (Name) couldn’t escape. She’d catch glimpses of Hyeri in the hallways, always with that knowing smirk, always whispering something to her friends whenever (Name) walked by.

On Thursday, (Name) decided to stay late at the library to catch up on her assignments. She’d promised Jake she’d meet him after his practice, but she needed some time to herself first. The library was mostly empty, the quiet hum of the air conditioning the only sound in the otherwise silent space.

She found a secluded corner and sat down, pulling out her books and trying to concentrate. But her thoughts kept drifting back to Jake. She knew he loved her; he’d never given her a reason to doubt him. But she couldn’t help wondering if she was enough for him.

Was she interesting enough? Pretty enough? Could she really keep his attention when he was constantly surrounded by so many beautiful, confident girls like Hyeri?

Just as she was about to lose herself in another spiral of doubt, a sharp voice cut through the silence.

“Oh, look who it is,” Hyeri’s voice rang out, echoing through the quiet library. (Name) looked up to see Hyeri approaching, a smug grin on her face. She was flanked by two of her friends, who snickered as they followed her lead.

“What do you want, Hyeri?” (Name) asked, keeping her voice calm and her gaze steady.

Hyeri chuckled, crossing her arms. “Just wanted to check on you, make sure you’re not feeling too… overwhelmed. I mean, dating Jake must be exhausting. All those girls throwing themselves at him… it’s got to be tough.”

(Name) felt her heart rate quicken, but she refused to give Hyeri the satisfaction of seeing her react. “Jake and I are fine. Thanks for your concern,” she said, her tone polite but firm.

Hyeri raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. “Are you, though? Because, honestly, I’ve been seeing a lot of him around lately… and not with you.”

The words were like a knife twisting in her gut, but (Name) held her ground. “Jake has practice and games; he’s busy. But he always makes time for me.”

Hyeri laughed. “If you say so. But remember, sweetie, there’s always someone waiting to take your place. Someone who can keep up with him in every way.”

(Name) felt a surge of anger. “Why do you care so much about what Jake and I do?”

Hyeri’s smile faltered for a split second, but she quickly recovered. “I’m just looking out for you. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt when you’re so… out of your depth.”

(Name) clenched her fists under the table, trying to stay calm. “I’m not going anywhere, Hyeri. So, whatever you’re trying to do, it’s not going to work.”

Hyeri’s smile turned cold. “We’ll see about that.” With a final, disdainful look, she turned and walked away, her friends trailing behind her.

(Name) let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her hands trembling slightly. She hated how much Hyeri got to her. She hated feeling this way—unsure and insecure, constantly questioning herself.

She glanced at the time on her phone. Jake’s practice would be over soon. She needed to clear her head before she saw him. She packed up her things and headed out of the library, deciding to take the long way to the field.

As she approached the soccer field, she saw the team wrapping up their practice. Jake was in the center, laughing with his teammates, his jersey clinging to his frame, hair damp with sweat. He looked so at ease, so confident. She felt a pang in her chest, a mix of love and doubt swirling inside her.

He spotted her from across the field and waved, his face breaking into that bright, boyish grin that always made her heart skip a beat.

“Hey!” he called, jogging over to her. “You’re here early. I thought you were going to be at the library until late.”

“I finished up sooner than I thought,” she replied, trying to sound casual. “Figured I’d come watch the end of practice.”

Jake chuckled. “Well, you missed the best part—me scoring the winning goal in our scrimmage.”

(Name) smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m sure you were great, as always.”

Jake tilted his head, noticing the slight edge in her voice. “Hey, are you okay? You seem�� off.”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, then sighed. “Just… a long day.”

Jake studied her for a moment, then reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

(Name) nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. She wanted to tell him about Hyeri, about everything that had been bothering her. But she didn’t want to sound like she was complaining or insecure. She knew Jake loved her, and she didn’t want to come across as needy.

“I know,” she whispered. “I just… I’m fine, really.”

Jake frowned but didn’t press further. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Okay, but if you need to talk, I’m here. Always.”

She nodded, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. “I know,” she whispered again, leaning into his touch.

As they walked away from the field, Jake’s arm draped over her shoulders, (Name) felt the weight of her insecurities settle in her chest. She knew she needed to find a way to deal with them, to stop letting Hyeri get under her skin. But she also knew that it wouldn’t be easy.

For now, she would just hold on to Jake’s warmth and try to believe that everything would be okay.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

Over the next few days, (Name) tried to shake off the encounter with Hyeri, but the words kept echoing in her mind. Every time she saw Jake surrounded by his female fans, her heart clenched with a mix of jealousy and fear. She hated feeling this way—so uncertain, so fragile. But she couldn't help it.

Jake, ever the social butterfly, didn't notice the subtle change in her mood at first. He continued his usual routine, grinning and waving at everyone who crossed his path, chatting with teammates and classmates alike. He’d often invite (Name) to join him, but she found herself making excuses to avoid the large crowds. She couldn’t stand being around the girls who so openly fawned over him, who looked at her like she was just a temporary fixture in his life.

But Jake was perceptive. He soon noticed the hesitation in her eyes, the way she would look away whenever one of his admirers approached. He’d catch her staring at the ground or fiddling with her fingers, and it didn't sit right with him.

One afternoon, after soccer practice, he decided to confront her. They were walking toward the student café, Jake’s arm casually slung over her shoulders. He felt her tense under his touch, and his brows furrowed in concern.

“(Name), what’s going on?” Jake asked, stopping in his tracks. “You’ve been… distant lately. Did I do something?”

(Name) looked up, startled by his directness. “No, Jake, it’s not you. I’m just… tired, I guess.”

He shook his head, not buying her vague excuse. “Tired? You’ve been tired for days. Come on, babe, talk to me. I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

She sighed, her eyes avoiding his. “It’s nothing, really. I just… I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

Jake gently cupped her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. “Like what? You know you can tell me anything.”

She hesitated, biting her lip. Should she tell him about Hyeri? About the bullying, the snide comments, and the doubt that had been gnawing at her for weeks? But what if he thought she was being childish, or worse, weak? She swallowed, trying to muster up her courage.

“It's… just some stuff with Hyeri,” she finally muttered. “She and her friends have been giving me a hard time.”

Jake’s face darkened immediately, his grip on her chin tightening slightly. “Hyeri? What’s she been saying to you?”

(Name) shook her head. “Nothing… nothing you need to worry about.”

Jake’s jaw clenched. “Tell me, (Name). What has she been saying?”

She sighed, knowing he wouldn’t let it go. “Just… stuff about how I’m not good enough for you. That there are other girls who are better for you.”

Jake’s expression hardened, his eyes flashing with anger. “She said that to you?”

(Name) nodded, her heart pounding. “Yeah… but it’s not a big deal. I can handle it.”

Jake’s hand slid down to grip hers, squeezing it tightly. “It is a big deal. I don’t want anyone making you feel like that. I’ll talk to her—”

“No!” (Name) interrupted, her eyes widening. “Please, Jake, don’t. It’ll just make things worse.”

Jake hesitated, torn between wanting to protect her and respecting her wishes. “But she’s hurting you, (Name). I can’t just stand by and let that happen.”

(Name) squeezed his hand back, her voice soft. “I know, but… if you confront her, she’ll just make it worse. And I don’t want you to get dragged into it.”

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay… okay. But if she does anything else, you tell me. Promise?”

(Name) nodded, relieved that he wasn’t pushing it further. “I promise.”

Jake pulled her into a tight hug, resting his chin on top of her head. “I just want you to be happy, you know that, right?”

She nodded, closing her eyes as she leaned into his embrace. “I know.”

But deep down, a small voice whispered that it wasn’t just about Hyeri. It was about her own fears and insecurities, about feeling like she didn’t belong in Jake’s world—a world filled with confidence and charm, where she always felt like an outsider.

That night, as (Name) lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, she couldn’t stop thinking about Jake’s words. He wanted her to be happy, but she wasn’t sure she even knew how to be happy right now.

Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up, seeing a message from Jake:

Jake: I’m here if you need to talk, okay? About anything.

She smiled a little, her heart warming at his concern.

(Name): Thanks, Jake. I appreciate it.

Jake: Seriously, I mean it. I hate seeing you upset. You’re everything to me, babe.

Her smile widened, and she felt a flutter in her chest. Maybe… maybe she was worrying too much. Maybe she just needed to trust Jake more.

She put her phone down, deciding that tomorrow, she’d try to be more open with him, let him in on what she was feeling. Maybe then, they could work through this together.

But little did she know, Hyeri wasn’t done yet.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

The next few days passed in a tense blur. (Name) tried her best to keep up appearances, to act like everything was normal. She wanted to believe Jake’s words, to trust in their relationship, but every time she saw Hyeri or one of her friends sneering at her from across the campus, her confidence wavered.

She avoided Jake's fan club and the soccer field, choosing to spend her time buried in books or at her part-time job at the library. Even though Jake would text her constantly, asking her to come watch him practice or join him and his friends, she often made excuses, saying she had too much homework or wasn’t feeling well.

Jake wasn’t blind—he could see the change in her. He noticed the way she avoided his friends, the way she seemed more withdrawn. His frustration grew, but he tried to keep it in check, knowing she needed time. But he was determined to get to the bottom of this.

One day, after a particularly grueling practice, Jake sat on the bleachers, his face set in a frown. His teammate and best friend, Sunghoon, nudged him with his shoulder. “Hey, man, what’s with the long face?”

Jake sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “It’s (Name). She’s been acting weird lately. I think something’s going on, but she won’t talk to me about it.”

Sunghoon leaned back, stretching out his legs. “Have you tried asking her directly?”

“Yeah, but she keeps saying everything’s fine. I know it’s not.” Jake shook his head. “I think it has something to do with Hyeri.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “Hyeri? That girl’s trouble, man. If she’s involved, it’s definitely not good.”

Jake clenched his jaw. “I know, and I’ve tried to get (Name) to open up, but she doesn’t want me to confront Hyeri. She thinks it’ll make things worse.”

Sunghoon nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe she’s right. But you can’t just sit back and do nothing, either.”

Jake stood up, determination burning in his eyes. “Yeah. I’m going to find out what’s going on.”

The next day, Jake was on high alert. He watched as (Name) moved through her day, always with a slightly anxious look in her eyes, glancing over her shoulder as if expecting something—or someone. He felt his frustration building; he hated seeing her like this, so on edge and unhappy.

During lunch, Jake spotted Hyeri and her clique at their usual table, laughing loudly, tossing their perfect hair, and occasionally casting disdainful glances in (Name)’s direction. Something inside Jake snapped.

He walked over, his steps purposeful and determined. The table quieted as he approached, all eyes turning toward him. Hyeri’s expression shifted into a coy smile. “Jake, what a surprise,” she purred. “What brings you here?”

Jake’s face was stone-cold. “We need to talk.”

Hyeri feigned innocence, blinking up at him with wide eyes. “Oh? About what?”

“About you leaving (Name) alone,” Jake replied, his voice low and menacing. “I know you’ve been harassing her.”

Hyeri’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, letting out a soft laugh. “Harassing? Oh, Jake, you’ve got it all wrong. We were just… chatting. Girls talk, you know?”

Jake leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing. “Cut the crap, Hyeri. I know what you’re doing, and I’m telling you to stop. Now.”

Hyeri’s eyes flashed with anger, but she kept her voice sweet. “I don’t know what she’s told you, but it sounds like she’s just trying to make me look bad. Why would I care about her, anyway? She’s nothing.”

Jake’s fists clenched at his sides. “She’s not nothing,” he said firmly. “She’s everything to me. And if you don’t back off, you’ll regret it.”

Hyeri’s smile turned cold. “Is that a threat, Jake?”

“It’s a promise,” he shot back, before turning on his heel and walking away.

Hyeri’s expression darkened as she watched him go. “Fine,” she muttered under her breath. “If he wants to play that game, then so be it.”

Later that evening, Jake went to (Name)’s dorm. He knocked on her door, his heart racing with a mix of anger and concern. When she opened it, she looked surprised to see him. “Jake? What are you doing here?”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “We need to talk,” he said, his tone serious.

(Name) felt a knot form in her stomach. “About what?”

“About Hyeri,” Jake replied, his eyes searching hers. “I confronted her today.”

(Name) felt her heart drop. “Jake, I told you not to—”

“I couldn’t just stand by and let her treat you like that!” he cut her off, his voice strained. “She’s been making your life hell, and I’m not okay with it.”

(Name) sighed, rubbing her temples. “I know, but now it’s going to be worse. She’s not going to stop just because you told her to.”

Jake’s expression softened slightly. “I don’t care if she stops or not. I care about you. And I can’t stand seeing you this unhappy.”

(Name) looked away, biting her lip. “It’s not just about her, Jake. It’s… everything. All the girls who like you, who want to be with you… It makes me feel like I’m not enough.”

Jake’s heart ached at her words. He reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands. “(Name), look at me.” She hesitated but finally met his gaze. “You are more than enough for me. I don’t care about those other girls. I only care about you. You’re the one I want. The only one.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she nodded, feeling a small bit of relief. “I just… I hate feeling like this. I don’t want to be insecure, but it’s hard when I see how perfect they are.”

Jake shook his head. “They’re not perfect. They’re just loud. You’re the one who’s special. You’re smart, kind, beautiful… everything I could ever want.”

She let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch. “I’m sorry, Jake. I’m trying.”

Jake pulled her into his arms, holding her close. “I know, babe. And I’m here for you. Always.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, just holding each other. But (Name) knew that this wasn’t over. Hyeri wasn’t going to back down easily, and there was still a long way to go. But at least she knew she had Jake by her side.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

The days following Jake’s confrontation with Hyeri were tense. (Name) tried to brace herself for what was coming, knowing Hyeri wouldn’t take Jake’s warning lightly. As much as she appreciated Jake standing up for her, she couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get much worse.

It started small. A few whispered insults in the hallway, snide comments thrown her way when she walked past. (Name) tried to ignore them, keeping her head down and focusing on her studies. But Hyeri wasn’t satisfied with subtlety.

One afternoon, (Name) found her locker door slightly ajar. Frowning, she opened it to find a pile of crumpled papers, candy wrappers, and a half-eaten sandwich shoved inside. Her textbooks were scribbled over with permanent marker, and her neatly organized notes were torn to shreds. Her heart sank, a wave of humiliation washing over her as she looked around. A few students snickered from a distance, watching her reaction with amused expressions.

She took a deep breath, trying to keep herself from breaking down. She had expected Hyeri to lash out, but this felt personal—crueler than before. Swallowing her pride, she quickly cleaned up the mess, shoving the ruined papers into her bag. She didn’t want to give Hyeri the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

That evening, she sat alone in her dorm room, staring at the ruined notes. Her frustration built up, her chest tightening with anger and hurt. She felt trapped, unable to confront Hyeri directly for fear of making things worse, yet unable to ignore the constant harassment.

Just as she felt tears welling up, her phone buzzed. A message from Jake:

“Meet me outside in five?”

She sighed, wiping her eyes. The last thing she wanted was for Jake to see her like this, but she also knew she couldn’t keep avoiding him. She grabbed her jacket and headed out.

Jake was waiting by the entrance, his hands shoved in his pockets. When he saw her, he smiled, but the smile faded quickly when he noticed her red-rimmed eyes. “Hey… What happened?”

(Name) shook her head, trying to smile. “It’s nothing. Just… had a rough day.”

Jake frowned, stepping closer. “You’ve been having a lot of rough days lately. Is it Hyeri?”

She hesitated, then nodded slowly. “She messed with my locker today. Ruined all my notes and textbooks. I don’t know how much more of this I can take, Jake.”

His expression darkened, his jaw clenching. “I’m sorry. I thought… I thought talking to her would make her stop, but I guess I underestimated her.”

(Name) sighed. “I just don’t know what to do. I don’t want to drag you into this any more than I already have.”

Jake shook his head firmly. “You’re not dragging me into anything. I’m already in this with you, whether you like it or not.” He reached out, gently brushing a tear from her cheek. “We’re going to figure this out together, okay?”

She nodded, leaning into his touch. “Okay… but I just don’t know how.”

Jake was silent for a moment, then his eyes lit up with an idea. “I think it’s time we play this a little smarter. If Hyeri wants to act like a bully, then maybe we need to show her that she can’t push you around without consequences.”

(Name) looked at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

Jake grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I have an idea. But it’s going to require some guts and a bit of creativity.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What kind of idea?”

“Let’s just say,” Jake smirked, “we’re going to give Hyeri a taste of her own medicine, but in a way that shows her she can’t mess with you—or us.”

Over the next few days, Jake’s plan slowly took shape. He started by gathering information. He watched Hyeri and her friends closely, taking note of their routines, their favorite hangouts, and the little things they valued. He recruited Sunghoon and a few of his soccer teammates, who were more than happy to help, tired of Hyeri’s antics and eager to support Jake and (Name).

Meanwhile, (Name) focused on keeping up her appearance of being unaffected. She attended classes, smiled in the hallways, and ignored Hyeri’s taunts as much as she could. It wasn’t easy, but she felt a new sense of determination growing within her, fueled by Jake’s support and her own desire to stand up for herself.

One day, as (Name) was leaving the library, she received a text from Jake:

“Meet me by the soccer field. It’s time for phase one.”

Excitement and nerves fluttered in her stomach as she made her way to the field. Jake was already there, leaning casually against the bleachers, his soccer teammates gathered around him. When he saw her, he smiled and waved her over.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Jake began, his tone serious. “Hyeri and her friends are always at that little café off-campus on Fridays, right?”

(Name) nodded. “Yeah, they go there after their study group.”

Jake grinned. “Perfect. We’re going to create a little… inconvenience for them. Nothing too drastic, but enough to make them think twice before messing with you again.”

(Name) raised an eyebrow. “What kind of inconvenience?”

Jake leaned in, lowering his voice. “Let’s just say they’re going to find their favorite table reserved for someone else… with a little surprise waiting for them.”

Sunghoon chuckled. “And by surprise, we mean a group of very rowdy, very enthusiastic freshman boys who think Hyeri’s group is there for a… study date.”

(Name) couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you serious?”

Jake nodded, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Dead serious. It’s harmless, but it’ll throw them off their game. And if they react badly… well, the whole café will see their true colors.”

(Name) giggled, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. “Okay, I’m in. Let’s do this.”

That Friday, (Name) sat with Jake and his teammates at a nearby table in the café, watching as the plan unfolded. As expected, Hyeri and her group arrived and headed straight for their usual spot, only to find it occupied by a group of loud, overeager freshmen.

Hyeri’s face twisted in annoyance, and she tried to shoo the boys away, but they didn’t budge. Soon, the whole café was watching, amused at the spectacle.

Jake leaned over to (Name), whispering, “See? This is just the beginning. We’ll make sure Hyeri learns that she can’t keep getting away with this.”

(Name) nodded, feeling a surge of confidence. For the first time in weeks, she felt like she had a chance to take control of her situation. And with Jake by her side, she was ready for whatever came next.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

The café buzzed with hushed conversations and soft laughter, all eyes on Hyeri and her friends as they struggled to maintain their composure. Hyeri’s face was a mask of irritation, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as the freshmen continued their antics, oblivious to her growing fury.

One of the freshmen, a particularly eager boy named Minsoo, leaned in closer to Hyeri with a wide grin. “So, what’s your favorite subject?” he asked, his voice a little too loud, drawing even more attention.

Hyeri’s eyes narrowed. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way,” she hissed, but Minsoo didn’t seem to take the hint.

Jake and (Name) watched from their table, trying to hide their laughter behind their drinks. (Name) felt a rush of satisfaction, seeing Hyeri squirm under the unwanted attention. For the first time in a long while, she felt a sense of control over her life, and it was exhilarating.

Hyeri finally snapped, standing up abruptly and knocking her chair over. “This is ridiculous!” she shouted, her voice echoing through the café. “Who let these idiots in here?”

The manager, an older woman with a stern expression, approached cautiously. “Miss, I’ll have to ask you to calm down or leave,” she said firmly.

Hyeri’s face turned a deeper shade of red. “Do you even know who I am?” she demanded, but the manager remained unfazed.

(Name) could see the tension building, the entire café now engrossed in the scene. Jake leaned closer, his voice low. “Wait for it…”

At that moment, Sunghoon, pretending to be an innocent bystander, approached Hyeri’s table. “Hey, Hyeri, I think everyone’s watching,” he said with a mock-concerned tone, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Hyeri’s eyes widened, realizing that all eyes were indeed on her, and she let out an exasperated growl. “Come on, let’s go,” she muttered to her friends, storming out of the café in a huff, her minions trailing behind her.

As soon as they were out of sight, the café erupted in quiet cheers and giggles. Jake leaned back with a satisfied grin. “Mission accomplished.”

(Name) couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a mix of relief and triumph. “That was… actually kind of brilliant,” she admitted, looking at Jake with newfound admiration.

Jake shrugged, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “I told you, we’re just getting started.”

The next day, the story of Hyeri’s humiliation spread like wildfire throughout the campus. The once-feared queen bee had been dethroned in the most public way possible, and people were talking. (Name) received a few encouraging smiles from strangers, and even her professors seemed to be in on the gossip.

But (Name) knew better than to think Hyeri would let this slide. She braced herself for whatever retaliation might come. She knew Hyeri well enough to know that the girl would not take this public embarrassment lying down.

Sure enough, by midday, rumors began circulating that Hyeri was planning something big. (Name) overheard snippets of conversation in the halls—something about a party, something about revenge. Her heart sank a little, but she kept her head high. She wouldn’t let Hyeri see that she was afraid.

As she walked to her next class, Jake caught up with her, falling into step beside her. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his expression more serious than usual.

(Name) nodded. “Yeah, just… you know, waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Jake frowned. “I heard about the party. Are you worried?”

She shrugged. “A little. But I guess I knew this was coming. Hyeri isn’t the type to just… let things go.”

Jake’s expression hardened. “Don’t worry. I won’t let her get to you. Not again.”

(Name) smiled softly, touched by his determination. “Thanks, Jake. I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He stopped walking, turning to face her fully. “You don’t have to thank me. You deserve to feel safe. To be happy.” His voice was earnest, his eyes locking onto hers.

Before she could respond, Jake’s phone buzzed. He glanced down at it, his brow furrowing. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered, showing (Name) the screen. It was a text from Hyeri:

“You think you’re clever, Sim? Let’s see how clever you are when your precious little girlfriend is humiliated in front of the whole school. See you at the party.”

(Name)’s stomach twisted with anxiety. “What does she mean?”

Jake’s jaw clenched. “I don’t know, but we’re going to find out. And whatever it is, we’re going to stop her.”

Later that afternoon, Jake and (Name) sat with Sunghoon and a few of their close friends in the campus café, strategizing. “We need to be prepared for anything,” Jake said, leaning over the table. “Hyeri’s not going to hold back, so we shouldn’t either.”

Sunghoon nodded. “I can ask around, see if anyone knows more about what she’s planning. She might have let something slip.”

(Name) sighed. “I just don’t want this to turn into some kind of war. I just want her to leave me alone.”

Jake reached over, squeezing her hand. “I know. But she needs to understand that she can’t just push people around and get away with it.”

They spent the next hour planning, going over different scenarios and coming up with counter-strategies. Jake was determined to be one step ahead of Hyeri, to make sure whatever she had planned backfired.

Finally, they agreed to attend the party together, but with a clear plan in place. “We stick together,” Jake said firmly. “And if anything happens, we’re ready.”

(Name) nodded, feeling a mixture of dread and anticipation. She wasn’t looking forward to whatever Hyeri had up her sleeve, but she felt comforted by the support of Jake and their friends.

Jake smiled, squeezing her hand once more. “Whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

(Name) took a deep breath, nodding. “Together.”

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

The night of the party arrived, and the atmosphere was electric. The house was filled with students, music blaring, lights flashing. (Name) felt a knot of anxiety in her stomach as they stepped inside, Jake’s hand firmly gripping hers.

Jake scanned the crowd, his expression tense. “Stay close,” he murmured.

They made their way through the crowd, exchanging polite nods and smiles. (Name) felt her nerves slowly calming, the familiar warmth of Jake’s presence reassuring her. But as they moved deeper into the house, she spotted Hyeri across the room, watching them with a cold, calculating smile.

Hyeri sauntered over, her friends flanking her like a pack of wolves. “Oh, look who decided to show up,” she sneered. “I hope you’re ready for a fun night, (Name).”

Jake stepped in front of (Name), his voice low and firm. “Whatever you’re planning, Hyeri, it’s not going to work.”

Hyeri’s smile widened. “We’ll see about that,” she purred. “You might want to keep a closer eye on your little girlfriend, Jake. You never know who might be looking to… have a little fun.”

Before (Name) could process her words, Hyeri turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd, leaving a trail of hushed whispers in her wake.

(Name) felt a chill run down her spine. “What do you think she meant by that?”

Jake’s grip tightened around her hand. “I don’t know, but whatever it is, we’re not letting her win.”

As the night wore on, (Name) couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen. The tension was palpable, the air thick with anticipation. She stayed close to Jake, trying to keep her nerves in check.

Then, just as the clock struck midnight, the lights suddenly went out. The room was plunged into darkness, and a hushed silence fell over the crowd.

“Stay close to me,” Jake whispered, pulling (Name) closer.

A spotlight flickered on, illuminating the center of the room where Hyeri stood, a microphone in hand. Her smile was wide, almost sinister. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she announced, her voice ringing out over the silent room, “I have a special announcement to make.”

(Name)’s heart pounded in her chest. She glanced at Jake, who looked equally tense. “What is she doing?” she whispered.

Jake’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know, but whatever it is, we’re ready.”

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

Hyeri's smile broadened as she paced slowly around the center of the room, basking in the attention. The crowd murmured in anticipation, curious and eager to see what drama she was about to unfold. (Name) could feel the anxiety tightening in her chest, her heart racing as she squeezed Jake's hand. She knew Hyeri wouldn’t have brought everyone’s attention to herself without a reason.

“Tonight,” Hyeri continued, her voice dripping with faux sweetness, “is a night to celebrate friendships, old and new. But, it’s also a night to remind some people of their place.” Her eyes flicked briefly toward (Name), and (Name) felt a cold shiver run down her spine.

Jake’s grip tightened around her hand. “Stay calm,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving Hyeri. “She wants a reaction.”

Hyeri clapped her hands, and suddenly, the large screen behind her flickered to life. (Name) felt a lump form in her throat as images began to flash across the screen—pictures of her, taken secretly over the past few weeks. In class, walking on campus, sitting alone in the library, even a few of her and Jake together, laughing. The crowd gasped and whispered as the images continued to play.

“Recognize anyone?” Hyeri asked, her voice mocking and playful. “Our little (Name) here seems to have quite the admirer, don’t you think?”

(Name) felt her face flush with embarrassment. The pictures weren't anything compromising, but the very fact that someone had been following her, taking photos without her knowledge, sent a wave of discomfort and fear washing over her. Jake was fuming, his expression dark and dangerous.

“What the hell is this, Hyeri?” Jake demanded, stepping forward slightly, shielding (Name) with his body. “This is low, even for you.”

Hyeri laughed lightly, as if Jake had just told a joke. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Jake. I just thought everyone should see how precious little (Name) has been… living her life. Don’t you think she’s just adorable?”

The crowd was murmuring louder now, a mix of shock, curiosity, and discomfort. (Name) wanted to disappear, to melt into the floor and escape this public humiliation.

Jake’s voice was low and cold. “Turn it off. Now.”

Hyeri shrugged, a malicious grin on her face. “Oh, but why? We’re just getting started.” She gestured, and the images changed, now showing photoshopped images of (Name) in compromising situations, ones that were clearly fake but still enough to make (Name)’s blood run cold. The laughter from the crowd grew louder.

“See, (Name)?” Hyeri continued, her voice dripping with insincerity. “This is what happens when you try to play in a league you don’t belong in. Stick to your books and stay out of my way, and maybe next time, I won’t have to make things so… entertaining.”

Jake had had enough. He surged forward, pulling (Name) behind him. “Shut it down, Hyeri, or I will,” he threatened, his voice like ice. The intensity in his eyes sent a clear message: he was done playing games.

Hyeri seemed unfazed, but there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. “Oh, what are you going to do, Jake? Hit a girl?” she taunted.

Jake smirked, his calm returning as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “I don’t need to hit you. But I do have friends who’d be very interested in knowing what you’re up to… including the dean and the campus police. How do you think your daddy’s going to feel about his precious princess getting expelled?”

For the first time, Hyeri’s smile faltered. “You wouldn’t dare…”

Jake’s smile widened, dangerous and confident. “Try me.” He pressed a button, and suddenly a recording of Hyeri’s earlier taunts and threats played through the speakers of the room. The crowd gasped again, turning their attention back to Hyeri, whose face had gone pale.

(Name) felt a surge of pride and relief. Jake had been prepared. He knew Hyeri would try something and had come armed with his own evidence.

“Now,” Jake continued, his voice carrying across the room, “if you don’t shut this down and apologize, I will make sure everyone, including your father, knows exactly what you’ve been up to. And trust me, I have more than enough proof to back it up.”

Hyeri’s face twisted in anger and fear. She knew she was cornered. With a huff, she waved at the tech guy controlling the screen. “Turn it off,” she snapped, and the screen went dark.

The room was filled with a tense silence. Hyeri glared at Jake, her fists clenched. “This isn’t over,” she spat, before turning on her heel and storming out of the room, her minions trailing after her like lost puppies.

The crowd erupted into murmurs, and (Name) felt the tension in her chest slowly dissipate. Jake turned to her, his expression softening. “You okay?” he asked gently.

(Name) nodded, though her hands were still shaking. “I… I think so. Thank you, Jake.”

Jake smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You don’t have to thank me. She messed with the wrong person, and I wasn’t going to let her get away with it.”

The room began to fill with quiet applause and cheers, people coming up to (Name) to offer words of support. Jake squeezed her hand, a proud smile on his face. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” he whispered. “I think we’ve had enough drama for one night.”

(Name) nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude and affection for Jake. “Yeah,” she agreed softly, leaning into him as they made their way out of the house and into the cool night air. She knew there would be more challenges ahead, but with Jake by her side, she felt like she could handle anything.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

The night air was cool and crisp as Jake led (Name) down the quiet path away from the frat house. His arm was still wrapped protectively around her, and every now and then, he’d give her hand a gentle squeeze as if to reassure her that she was safe now.

(Name) leaned into his side, the warmth of his body calming her nerves. Her mind replayed the events of the evening—Hyeri’s cruel scheme, the embarrassment of those photos, and then Jake stepping up to defend her in a way she hadn’t expected. The relief she felt in his presence was overwhelming, but it also made her heart ache with a strange mixture of joy and uncertainty.

Jake was quiet as they walked, his expression softer now but still a little tense. She wondered if he was upset about how things had unfolded or if he was thinking about how she had been dragged into the mess because of him.

They stopped when they reached the small campus park, the dimly lit path framed by large oak trees and benches scattered around. Jake gently guided her toward one of the benches, and they both sat down. The silence between them stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was more like a pause, a moment to gather thoughts before speaking.

“Jake,” (Name) began, her voice quiet but steady. She felt like she needed to say something, to break the tension in the air. “Thank you for what you did back there. I don’t think I’ve ever been so embarrassed in my life, but… you stood up for me.”

Jake turned to her, his eyes softening even more at her words. “You don’t need to thank me, (Name),” he said, his voice gentle. “I wasn’t going to let Hyeri or anyone else hurt you like that. She crossed a line, and I wasn’t going to just stand there and do nothing.”

She smiled weakly, looking down at her hands in her lap. “I guess… I just didn’t expect you to be so—” She paused, searching for the right word. “—so protective. You’ve got so much going on with soccer, the frat, and all those people who want your attention. I guess I thought I was just… another part of your life.”

Jake’s brows furrowed, and he shifted closer to her. “Hey,” he said softly, lifting her chin with his fingers so their eyes met. “You’re not just another part of my life, okay? You’re important to me, (Name). Really important. And I’m sorry if I haven’t made that clear enough.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, but the lingering insecurity from earlier gnawed at her. “It’s just… I know how popular you are, Jake. I see the way people look at you—the way girls look at you. And Hyeri… she’s right in a way. I don’t belong in your world. I’m not like them.”

Jake’s expression softened as he cupped her face with both hands, his thumbs gently brushing her cheeks. “(Name), you don’t have to be like them. I don’t want you to be like them. I like you for who you are—just you. You’re smart, kind, and you keep me grounded in a way no one else can.”

Her eyes began to well up with tears, but she held them back, biting her lip as she listened to his heartfelt words.

“I know I can be a little… clueless sometimes,” Jake continued with a small, self-deprecating smile. “I didn’t see what Hyeri was doing to you, and I’m sorry for that. But I promise, I’m not going to let anyone make you feel like you’re not enough, because to me… you’re more than enough. You’re everything.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at her as if she was the only person in the world that mattered, made her heart swell. She had always known that Jake was sweet beneath the frat-boy exterior, but hearing him say these words—it was like every insecurity she’d ever had about their relationship was melting away.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and Jake gently wiped it away with his thumb. “Hey, don’t cry,” he whispered, his voice soft and soothing. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

She shook her head, a small laugh escaping her. “No, it’s not that,” she said, her voice slightly choked with emotion. “I’m just… happy. I didn’t expect you to say all of that.”

Jake smiled, his own eyes glimmering with affection. He leaned in closer, his forehead resting gently against hers. “You make me want to be better,” he whispered. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. And honestly? I don’t want to feel this way about anyone else.”

Her breath caught in her throat at his confession. The warmth of his words and the closeness of his presence made her feel like everything was falling into place. She couldn’t hold back anymore.

“I love you, Jake,” she whispered, her voice soft but steady.

Jake’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then his lips curled into the most genuine, heart-melting smile she had ever seen. Without hesitation, he closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers in a slow, tender kiss that spoke louder than any words could.

The world around them seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s affection. The kiss was sweet, soft, and filled with all the feelings they had been holding back for so long.

When they finally pulled away, Jake’s forehead rested against hers again, and he smiled against her lips. “I love you too, (Name),” he murmured, his voice full of warmth and sincerity. “More than you know.”

Her heart felt like it was about to burst with happiness. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, and he pulled her into his chest, resting his chin on top of her head.

For a long moment, they sat there in the quiet night, holding each other close, their hearts beating in sync. It was peaceful, it was perfect, and it was everything she had ever hoped for.

Without a word, Jake leaned in and kissed her, deep and intense. It wasn’t like their usual soft kisses—this one was filled with all the emotion they had held back. His lips moved with urgency, and she responded just as passionately, her fingers tangling in his hair.

They finally pulled away, breathless but smiling. Jake rested his forehead against hers, his thumb brushing gently across her cheek.

“I don’t care how many people are out there,” he whispered softly, “You’re the only one I see.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, and with a shy smile, she replied, "And you’re the only one that matters."

© ★ Moon , 2024— all rights reserved to me. Please do not copy or steal my work in any way. 

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[tsumuus]

You were always the first to smile at him in the mornings. It didn't matter that Katsuki Bakugou had already walked into the agency with a scowl on his face, the kind that made the interns cower and the other heroes roll their eyes in exasperation. You'd still flash that bright, almost blinding grin at him, chirping out a cheery "Good morning!" as if his mood could be fixed with just that simple greeting.

And, for a while, you thought it was enough. Your optimism and kindness seemed to balance out his rough edges. You believed, perhaps foolishly, that if you were just consistent enough, cheerful enough, you could break through the walls he had built around himself.

But Katsuki Bakugou was stubborn, and his walls were fortified with years of being closed off from others. Each time you tried to get closer, to share a bit more of yourself, he pushed you away. His gruff replies were always curt, his dismissals borderline rude. He’d brush off your attempts at conversation, his tone cold and distant.

“Why the hell are you always so damn cheerful?” he’d snap, glaring at you like your very presence irritated him.

You’d laugh it off, brushing it aside with a wave of your hand. “Someone has to balance out your grumpiness, Bakugou. Can’t have you scaring everyone off, right?”

His only response would be a grunt, and he'd walk away, leaving you standing there, feeling like you'd just run into a brick wall. But you kept trying, day after day, because you liked him. More than that, you believed in him. You saw the good underneath all that bluster, the determination and the loyalty that made him such a fierce hero.

Yet, it wore on you. The constant rejections, the way he never softened even after months of working together. Every smile that he didn’t return, every kind word he brushed off, chipped away at your optimism. It was exhausting, trying to brighten someone’s world when they were determined to live in the dark.

Then came the day you reached your limit. You hadn’t even realized it was happening, not until you found yourself standing outside the agency’s doors, your usual smile feeling forced and hollow. You were tired- bone-deep tired- of giving so much of yourself only to be met with cold indifference.

That morning, you didn’t greet him with your usual enthusiasm. Instead, you simply nodded in his direction, a tight, strained smile on your lips. You went through the day on autopilot, not bothering to try and engage him in conversation, not making any extra effort to be cheerful around him.

It didn’t take long for him to notice the change. You caught his puzzled glances out of the corner of your eye, the way his scowl deepened when you didn’t seek him out during lunch like you usually did. But you didn’t have the energy to care. Not anymore.

As the day dragged on, you could feel the weight of your decision settling over you, a dull ache in your chest where your hope used to be. You’d tried—God, you’d tried so hard- but you were done. You couldn’t keep pouring yourself into someone who gave you nothing in return.

That evening, as you were packing up to leave, Bakugou finally confronted you. He stood in front of your desk, arms crossed over his chest, a deep frown etched into his features. “What the hell’s your problem today?”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sudden confrontation. For a moment, you considered brushing him off like he always did to you, but then you realized that you were too tired for that. Too tired to pretend anymore.

“Nothing,” you replied, your voice quiet but firm. “I’m just... done, Bakugou.”

His frown deepened. “Done with what?”

You sighed, pushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “With this. With trying so hard to be your friend, to get close to you when you clearly don’t want that.”

His eyes narrowed, confusion flashing across his face. “What are you talking about?”

You met his gaze, finally letting him see the weariness in your eyes. “I’ve tried, Katsuki. I’ve tried to be there for you, to be your friend, but you keep pushing me away. And I’m tired of it. I’m tired of giving so much of myself only to get nothing back.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes- regret, maybe?- but it was gone before you could be sure.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you continued, your voice breaking just a little. “I can’t keep pretending that it doesn’t hurt when you push me away. So... I’m done. I’ll still be here, but I won’t try so hard anymore.”

You finished packing up your things and walked past him, feeling his eyes on you the entire time. But he didn’t stop you. He didn’t say a word as you left, your heart heavy with the weight of everything you hadn’t said.

As you stepped out into the cool evening air, you felt a strange mix of relief and sadness wash over you. You were free now, free from the constant effort of trying to make him see you, to care. But it also felt like you’d lost something- something that could have been, if only he’d let you in.

And maybe, just maybe, he realized that too. But it was too late now. You’d given up on the sunshine and decided to let yourself fade into the background, where it was easier to exist without constantly fighting for a place in his life.

And perhaps, someday, he would realize what he had lost. But by then, you would be long gone, your light no longer shining for him.

masterlist

[thesirencult]

PAC READING : WHO HAS A CRUSH ON YOU?

1---2

3---4

PILE 1

The Tower, The Fool

This is someone you would never expect to have feelings for you. You view them as distant, private an cold towards you and others. There is something magnetic to them and, at times, they let their cold façade go. Then, you get to experience a different side of them. They may have played with children in front of you or taken care of an elderly person, assisting them to cross the street. This person loves animals and has a soft spot for them. This reminds me of a strong, tall man who build a sanctuary for chihuahuas after his wife left him. Now he takes care of them and encourages other men to break the stereotype and adopt a smaller dog.

So, this person could also be tall and either lanky or lean-muscular. Others see them as intimidating and may try to avoid them in social situations (like coworkers not inviting them out for a drink after work).

I don't think they'll express themselves. They feel very ashamed of their feelings for you and believe that you see them as "not good enough". This has nothing to do with the way you treat them and has everything to do about their own perception of themselves.

They are very innocent at heart and get hurt when people exclude them. This tells me that you must have treated them like your "chihuahua". You are the one who encourages them and offers help or a few kind words. They love your kind and sweet nature but it's hard for them to show their true emotions. You will notice them get shy and anxious around you, like a little kid. Give them a chance by letting them get closer to you.

PILE 2

Judgement, The Magician, 5 Of Wands

This person is very fair and just. They will love every single inch of you and they won't shy away from telling you that. You see yourself as "not being good enough" and the person who has a crush on you will pick up on how you feel immediately. They will try to get you to see your beauty and will get sad when you talk bad about yourself. They just don't understand how someone as perfect and beautiful as you doesn't realise their own strength and beauty.

This person is a master manifestor. They just know how to alchemize energy and change their physical reality. They will see that you have this ability too and they will admire how you are trying to forge your own path. They have probably manifested you into their lives and they'll idolize you a lot.

If there is an age gap (5+), this person will try to hold back and act as a mentor towards you but, they are very competitive with others and possessive. Their feelings will shine through when they sense someone else trying to get with you. You'll notice their absurd behaviour, call them out and they will just kiss you.

"I'll show you why I'm acting this way." And then smooch 💋.

PILE 3

Queen Of Cups, 7 Of Pentacles, 5 Of Pentacles

Okey-dokey! My sweet Pile 3, if you are not into girls or feminines, I would advise you to choose another pile. Otherwise, if you choose to stay, this energy could resonate with your personal journey towards love and abundance.

I'm seeing a very sweet soul waiting for you. This energy is very light and free-flowing. You may not have met this person yet, because of divine timing. I'm getting that when you meet them it will be "love at first sight". You'll catch them doing something random, like picking up a dumbbell at the gym or petting a dog, or even voting (?).

This "exchange" from afar will drive you crazy cause you will know nothing about this person and you'll think you will never see them again. I see that fate has other plans for you.

This feminine is your future spouse and she is very into personal development at the moment. They will be preoccupied with finances and they are trying to clear up "abundance blocks".

At first, they will seem reserved and preoccupied with other things. You'll exchange a few looks and sparks will be flying, so this is a case of a reciprocated crush.

They are quite happy with being by themselves and working on their coins and foundations for their future. I bet you'll hear them talk about that and you'll think "Baby don't worry, I'm your future 💋."

Slowly you'll start talking and I hope you make the next step otherwise they'll never ever let you in.

But, after you get closer to them, you'll realize that they are a very deep and wise person and not just sunny all the time. Actually you'll think of them as darker and lunar. You will love their passion and mysterious disposition. Be their fearless protector and their rock to climb up to and watch the sunrise.

PILE 4

The Hierophant, 9 Of Cups, Queen Of Pentacles

Right now you are going through a "level up" phase. I don't even know why you are waisting your time here. Lol. You are quite independent, fierce and unstoppable. You are also trying to manifest someone like you.

The person who will soon come towards and confess their crush on you is not someone overly "hard". They are quite dreamy and soft. They like ice-cream and long walks. They will take you on romantic dates and worry that you don't like the scenery because you are not talking that much.

This person sees you as a boos b*tch. They admire you and have put you in a pedestal. I'm hearing "Let me service you Queen.". They like "ice-cream" ! Oh my! This person really wants you and they would jump through hoops to get to you.

They'll pass all your tests with flying colours and you will keep wondering how they are such a good match for you. Let them feel like you are in control and they'll submit to you.

[tikosblogg]

The Scars We Bare….❤️

Summary: After a traumatic accident leaving your body scarred for life, Noah makes it his mission to remind you of your worth.

Warning: piv sex, unprotected sex(don’t do that), slight choking. Body worship?, mentions of blood, fighting. Let me know if I forgot anything.

A/N: This is a little heavier than I usually write about, but I thought it was so sweet. I’m sorry if it’s trash, I wrote this while watching Summer slam🤪

The energy inside our house was insane, the house pulsing with the music and the laughter of friends. the ambiance was alive—a perfect backdrop to celebrate the end of their successful tour. I had always been the glue that held this ragtag bunch together. Growing up alongside Noah, and the guys meant our lives were intertwined in a way that made this party feel like a reunion of sorts, no matter how long we’ve lived together or how often we saw each other while they are on the road.

As I mingled among partygoers, I felt an undeniable sense of pride for these guys who had worked so hard, now basking in the glow of their accomplishments. But tonight wasn’t just about them; it was about me too. I had hopes of taking my relationship with Brent to the next level.

Brent is the first relationship I’ve had since my accident 4 years ago. We have been seeing one another for about a month, and in my gut, I felt tonight could be the night we solidified what we both wanted. Nobody has seen my body since that traumatic day, except for Noah. My family lives out of state, so as soon as I was released from the hospital Noah moved me in here.

He was my rock during the whole ordeal and helped me heal. Our friendship is a special one, that I hold dearly in my heart. He bathed me, cooked for me, cleaned the cuts and incisions on my body everyday. He was the shoulder I cried on, about my insecurities of my forever changed body. Always reminding me that I was beautiful. He has helped more than I think he realizes.

Excusing myself from a lively conversation with Noah and Jolly, I slipped outside to check on Brent. The cool air hit my skin, refreshing yet a little uneasy. I dialed his number, only to be met with an annoyance I couldn’t quite place. "I've been here for the past 45 minutes," he huffed, the edge in his voice making me flinch.

My stomach twisted as he gave me his location. I ended the call, worry gnawing at the edges of my mind. What had gone wrong? He’s never sounded so annoyed with me. I shook it off and decided to find him, determined not to let it ruin our night.

When I finally spotted him, leaning against the wall of the house with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face, my heart sank. Why did he look so displeased? I swept in for a hug, wrapping my arms around his body, hoping to draw out a little warmth. He hesitated for just a moment before returning the embrace, but the spark I had anticipated was absent.

"Hey! Glad you made it," I chirped, forcing a smile even as a twinge of frustration bubbled within me. He didn't reply, only allowed me to grab his hand and lead him inside.

As we entered, I could feel the vibrant energy shift slightly. The laughter and chatter continued, but the warmth of the party felt overshadowed by the tension emanating from Brent. I introduced him to the guys Noah, Jolly, Folio, and Nick—all of whom were mingling and laughing, filling the air with their unique energy. However, I noticed something peculiar: the way the guys eyed Brent, especially Noah. There was a hint of concern in his gaze, the kind that screamed, I’m onto you.

Ignoring the unspoken judgment from my friends, I pulled Brent closer, trying to ignite that spark between us. We stood there, surrounded by music and laughter, yet he seemed distant, his smile faltering as the guys began to chatter amongst themselves.

“Everything alright?” I whispered, leaning closer to him. I wanted an opening, a doorway into whatever was bothering him. But he merely shrugged, his gaze wandering, refusing to engage. I softly grasped Brent’s hand, politely excusing us from the group. I led him through the crowd of party goers, and up the stairs to my room.

As I closed the door behind us, the thumping bass of the party dwindled into a distant murmur, the laughter of friends fading away as I turned to Brent. The vibrant energy of the gathering felt worlds away, and the four walls of my bedroom suddenly wrapped around us like a protective barrier.

“Brent,” I started, my voice wavering slightly. “I’m really sorry if I overwhelmed you back there. I just wanted you to meet my friends. They’re like family to me.” I stepped closer, finding comfort in the small space between us. “I like how you’re different from everyone else,” I reassured him, reaching to cup his face. “I want you with me, Brent. I really like you, and I was hoping tonight could be something more.”

At last, he looked up, a smirk playing on his lips as he wasted no more time, and leaned in and captured my mouth with his. The kiss ignited something deep inside me; I melted into him, the world beyond my bedroom eclipsed in a frenzy of sensation. But then, as he pushed me down onto the bed, his body pressing into mine, I felt a rush of vulnerability sweep over me.

His lips were a warm trail, moving from my mouth and down the length of my neck. Nervousness coiled in my stomach, mingling with the thrill of it all. What if he hates the scars? But I shushed that voice; if Brent liked me, he would accept all of me, flaws and histories included.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes dark with desire, he removed his shirt, revealing his toned body. I felt my pulse quicken. The intimacy of the moment escalated as he reached for mine. But then, as the fabric glided off my skin, a sudden silence enveloped us. Brent froze, his expression shifting from desire to something unreadable as his eyes traced the long scar running down my chest, then mapping the smaller scars scattered along my ribs and stomach.

“Are you okay?” I paused, my heart pounding painfully against my rib cage as I reached up, uncertain and vulnerable.

The moment hung heavy in the air; he shook his head vehemently, climbing off me so quickly that the sudden loss of his warmth sent a chill racing down my spine. I sat up, confusion flooding my senses. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Brent stood there, the remnants of our intimacy dissolving between us. He tugged his shirt back on, the fabric crumpling around his torso, and ran a hand through his hair, the gesture laced with frustration. “Why do you have scars all over you?” His voice was low, a mix of concern and discomfort.

As the words spilled from my lips, the weight of the memory resurfaced. “I was in a bad car crash four years ago. I had to have open heart surgery,” I explained, trying to keep my tone steady. I watched the color drain from his face, his brows knitting together in discomfort.

A long sigh escaped him, heavy and laden with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that’s...bad. I didn’t expect…” He trailed off, shaking his head again as if trying to clear it.

“It makes me feel… kind of squeamish to touch them” he admitted, his eyes glancing away, avoiding the testament of my past etched upon my skin.

My heart plummeted, the weight of rejection crashing down upon me like a tidal wave. I had let the hope and excitement build, only for it to crumble in an instant under the realization that my trauma had repelled him.

“I think we should just end it here. sorry,” he added, almost mechanically, before turning to leave the room. The sound of the party resumed its vibrancy, a stark reminder of the dissonance between our worlds.

I watched him walk out, feeling an emptiness settle into my chest. The door slammed behind him, and I sank back into the bed, wrapping my arms around myself as if trying to shield those scars from the world. Noah, My friends, my family—they had embraced me, scars and all. Why couldn’t Brent?

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me. My thoughts spiraled, wondering if my scars were always going to be a barrier, a reminder of a past I couldn’t erase. The party continued downstairs, but all I felt was the silence of my room enveloping me, a somber echo of what had just transpired.

I finally stood from my bed, my body shaking with each sob leaving my mouth. I walked straight into my bathroom, insistent on washing his touch, and this night from my tattered body.

Noah stood with Jolly and Nick, their voices a distant murmur, but his attention had drifted. His eyes were locked on the staircase that you’d just walked up with Brent. There was something about Brent—a way he carried himself, a cocky swagger that made his skin crawl. He didn’t like the guy, not one bit.

Fifteen minutes later, Noah’s unease was proven justified. Brent stomped down the stairs, his expression unfazed and arrogant. He brushed past Noah and the others, heading straight for the kitchen. Noah tilted his head, a knot tightening in his stomach. Where were you? He silently decided to confront Brent.

As he stepped into the kitchen, Noah maneuvered himself silently, standing a few steps behind Brent’s shorter stature. He was leaning against the counter, deep in conversation with some random dude whose name Noah didn’t care to know. Eavesdropping came naturally to him; he would justify anything if it meant looking out for you.

His heart raced when Brent’s laughter cut through the air. “Yeah, I was about to get laid,” he sneered, “until I saw her mangled scars. who the fuck would want to touch that?”

The breath in Noah’s lungs turned hot and escaped his body, choking him as Brent's words sank in. His fists clenched tightly, and he felt the world around him shatter. He could almost hear your voice, the way you’d always brushed off your past with a smile, how brave you were in the face of your demons. But Brent—he had the audacity to belittle you. That was it. Brent had fucked up.

Suddenly, the current conversation shifted; the guy noticed Noah standing there, confusion flickering across his face. It alerted Brent, and he turned around, the mocking grin fading as he saw the fury etched on Noah’s features.

“What’s your problem, man?” Brent started, but Noah didn’t give him a chance to finish. With swift motion, Noah reared back and swung, his fist connecting hard with Brent’s face. The impact sent Brent flying backward, crashing against the counter, glass bottles tumbling to the ground in a cacophony of shattering chaos.

Loud gasps erupted from the partygoers outside the kitchen, a wave of shock sweeping through the crowd. Brent scrambled to his feet, wiping blood from his lip, rage igniting his eyes. But it was too late to back down. Noah launched himself at Brent, tackling him to the ground, a flurry of punches raining down on him, fueled by the anger and pain he felt for you.

“Get off me, you psycho!” Brent shouted, trying to push Noah away. The struggle was chaotic, a whirlwind of flailing limbs and outrage. Just as Noah readied another blow, Jolly charged in, pulling Noah back with surprising strength.

“Noah, stop!” Jolly shouted, his grip firm as he held Noah at bay. “What happened!”

Noah was seething, panting heavily as he glared down at Brent, who was trying to push himself back up, shaking with anger and disbelief. “Get the fuck out of my house,” Noah growled, his voice low and menacing.

Brent’s eyes widened, the cockiness draining from his face. He looked around, seeing the eyes of the few witnesses, the trepidation in Jolly’s grip, and the fire behind Noah’s glare.

With a rage still shimmering in his veins, Brent muttered something under his breath, stumbling out of the kitchen and pushing past a few confused guests. As the tension dissipated, the music seemed to swell once again, an unsettling backdrop to the upheaval that had just occurred.

Noah, freed from Jolly’s hold, took a moment to catch his breath, the adrenaline of the fight slowly beginning to wane, replaced by a deep concern for you. He didn’t care what anyone else thought of the scene he just created; all he could think of was you and how he could protect you from people like Brent. The real battle would be making sure you knew how much you were worth, scars and all.

The steam curled and twisted upwards like tendrils of a ghost, enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth and moisture, yet I felt anything but comforted. My sobs echoed against the bathroom tiles, reverberating with the music of the party that throbbed beneath me. Laughter and music pulsed through the floorboards, but they were alien sounds in this moment, distant and muffled, a reminder of a world I felt unfit to join.

With trembling hands, I wiped my tears away, attempting to compose myself. “Y/n?” A soft voice echoed through the bathroom, as my breath hitched. “I’m fine,” I called out weakly, trying to sound more convincing than I felt, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. Just as I braced for another wave of tears, the shower door opened and Noah stepped in.

his clothes still on, clinging to him like a second skin. His arms wrapped around me, and I melted against him, the warmth radiating from his body bringing some semblance of solace. I could feel the steady beat of his heart through the fabric of his shirt. The gentle thump soothed me as I softly cried into his chest, his hand combing through my damp hair, as if he could weave away my pain with each passing stroke.

It took a moment to gather my composure, but when I finally pulled back to look at him, I noticed the water swirling around our feet, tinted a soft pink. Panic flared within me as I glanced down at his hands, noticing the cuts marring his knuckles. “Noah, what happened?” My heart raced at the thought of him getting hurt.

His response was almost too casual, a hint of bravado underneath the weight of his words. “I beat Brent’s fucking ass.” The smile that flickered onto my face was unexpected, born from a blend of relief and admiration. I laid my forehead against him, the warmth of his body a protective barrier against the world below.

Noah was gentle, taking the shampoo from the rack and lathering it into my hair, his fingertips pressing against my scalp in a way that felt simultaneously tender and powerful. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the comfort of his presence, letting him wash away not just the remnants of the night, but the anguish that had been clawing at my heart.

He grabbed my loofah, and bodywash, bathing me next. Sending me back 4 years ago, when he did this for me everyday. Once the water turned off, he wrapped a towel around me, the fabric covering me in warmth as he stripped off his wet clothes, every inch of my cheeks heating more at the sight. He returned, focused, practical, and somehow that made my heart swell. Lifting me effortlessly onto the counter, he took the cotton pad and my makeup remover, carefully cleaning away the smudged remnants of the night while stealing glances at me, gauging my reactions.

The simplicity of his gestures, the kindness radiating from each one, made my insides flutter. He was mending not just the mess on my face but the turmoil inside me too. When he disappeared momentarily and returned with one of his old t-shirts and a pair of my underwear, I felt a warmth. He pressed the towel into my skin, drying me off with an intense focus that made me feel seen, cherished.

He pulled the tshirt over my head, before slipping my underwear up my legs. I carefully lifted my hips from the counter, so he could pull them up over my hips. The deep scary feelings I’ve tried to bury for the past few years, slowly making their appearance.

Once I was dressed, he took my hairbrush and began to detangle my hair with the ease, each stroke a reminder of how he understood me, how he always knew how to take care of me when the world felt too heavy. I watched him in the mirror—his brow furrowed with concentration, his lips pressed together in determination.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice softer than the droplets of water still clinging to the tiles. He met my gaze, kindness dancing in his eyes.

“No need,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “I’ll always be here for you.” The thudding of my heart, beat wildly against my chest. Our eyes stuck in a heated stare down, waiting to see which of caved first. His hand slowly lifted to cup my cheek. His thumb softly rubbed against my cheek, as he leaned in the tiniest bit closer.

“Noah..” I breathed, my voice just above a whisper. The uncertainty that once filled his brown eyes, were now gone. Filled with a darkness, that I was more than ready to fall into. His lips finally connected to mine in a simple kiss. Almost as if testing the waters.

He pulled away for only a moment, before his other hand slob into my hair, pulling me in for another kiss. He didn’t hold back, as he squeezed himself between my thighs, attacking my lips with so much force. His tongue entered my mouth, as he groaned at the taste of me.

I whimpered against his lips, wanting, needing more of him. He pulled away again, resting his forehead against mine as we both panted. “I love you so fucking much y/n, and I’m tired of fighting it.” He shook his head, before pecking my lips again.

I smiled, wrapping my arms around his naked waist pulling him flush against me. “I love you too Noah.” I smiled softly up at him. He grabbed my thighs, wrapping them around him, before lifting me off the counter, and walking us over the threshold back into my room.

He softly dropped me onto the bed, as grabbed him hand pulling him on top of me. I grabbed the towel still wrapped around him, and pulled it loose. He smirked down at me, before reaching up and pushing my hair off my face. “Are you sure about this?”

My eyes flew back up to his before I nodded my head. “I’m positive Noah….please.” Without another word, he leaned down catching my lips into another kiss. As he kissed me, his hand trailed up my thigh, pushing it back and spreading me open.

His tongue slid in my mouth, as his fingers carefully moved my panties over before sinking two of them into me. I moaned against his mouth, as he pulled away smiling. “You sound so pretty baby.” His voice was low, and rough. I whimpered, as I softly bucked my hips into it.

After a few more thrusts he pulled his fingers out, sticking them in his mouth pulling them out with a groan. “And you taste even better.” He lifted himself off of me, grabbing the hem of my shirt.

He slowly pulled it off as I laid underneath him, a rush of warmth and trepidation surging through me. The lamp light in my room, casted a golden hue on everything in the room. It felt as if the world outside had ceased to exist—a serene bubble where only the two of us resided.

Even though Noah had seen my scars a million times before, an insidious wave of insecurity washed over me. As his gaze drifted over the pink lines that traced my skin, I couldn’t help but hold my breath.

A shaky exhale escaped my lips, a reflection of my nerves. Noah, always attuned to my feelings, noticed immediately. His eyes softened, filled with a understanding that spoke volumes. He leaned down, and before I could fully process what was happening, I felt the warmth of his tongue glide along the long scar that ran down my chest between my breasts. An unexpected jolt of pleasure coursed through me, mingled with vulnerability.

He continued his descent, his lips softly placing tender kisses upon each of my scars. With every touch, he seemed to dissolve the doubts that gnawed at the edges of my mind. I could feel each light brush of his lips, each gentle kiss, healing parts of me I thought were beyond repair.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered against my skin, his voice barely above a breath. The words lingered in the air, wrapping around my heart like a soothing balm. It surprised me how true they felt, even after what happened tonight. He looked up, deep into my eyes, his sincerity gleaming like a beacon in the dim lighting.

My pulse raced, and from deep within me, the knots of self-doubt began to unravel. Noah had a way of making me feel seen, as if he could peer into my soul and appreciate every scar etched into it. Each imperfection, every faint line was an emblem of survival, milestones of resilience—but in that moment, they felt less like burdens and more like beautiful parts of my story.

He returned to my lips, kissing me softly, allowing the heat and intimacy of our connection to wash over us. I melted into him, giving in to the moment, and for the first time, I felt as if I could shed my insecurities, if only for a while.

He grabbed the sides of my underwear, pulling them off. He laid back onto me before kissing me hotly, and taking no time to slowly push into me. I gasped, digging my nails into his back at the burning stretch. He grabbed my jaw softly bringing my eyes to his. “Are you okay baby?”

I nodded, lifting my head to kiss his lips. I softly bit on his bottom lip, pulling on it softly. He grunted, as his hips roughly snapped against mine. “Please Noah…” I whined, pulling him into me. He lifted up, caging my head in between his arms. He stared down at me, as he pounded into me mercilessly.

“Fuck baby you feel so good” he groaned, above me. The pleasure on his face made me feral. I dug my heel into the mattress, using all my force to flip our bodies over. His eyes widened in shock, as huge grin formed on his lips. “Fuck baby, you gonna ride me?” He almost whimpered.

My pussy throbbed at his words. Having my big tatted mainly best friend whimpering underneath was not something I ever imagined, but am so fucking lucky to experience. I leaned down, trailing kisses down his throat while he groaned. I leaned back up, grabbing his dick, and hovering back over it.

We both let out low groans, as I sank back down. “Fuck Noah you’re so big.” I whined, slowly rocking my hips back forth. “Yeah?” He breathed, gripping my hips tightly. I nodded my head, placing my hands against his chest.

He groaned at my sluggish pace, as I smirked down at him, enjoying my teasing game. After a few minutes, he was done with my teasing. His hand shot up, wrapping around my throat. He pulled me down until our noses were touching, as a cocky smile made its way to his face.

“You really thought I was gonna let you take control?” He growled, brushing his lips against mine. “I-..” my sentence was cut short, as his hips fucked up into me hard and fast. My nails dug into his chest, gripping on for dear life.

His fingers tightened around my throat as he finally connected our lips into a sloppy kiss. Lips, tongues, and teeth clashing. He pushed me back, making me sit up straight on top of him. He reached up, shoving two fingers in my mouth, as I moaned around them, sucking on them hard.

He slowly slid them out, running them down my throat, down my chest and stopping to squeeze my tit. “C’mon baby. You gonna cum for me?” He panted, continuing his decent until his fingers reached my swollen clit.

I threw my head back with a moan, in love with how he was making me feel. I leaned back, placing my hands right above his knees behind me, as I continued riding him. “Fuuuuck…” I groaned as his fingers sped up.

I felt my orgasm rising with each thrust of his hips, and stroke of his fingers. “I’m gonna cum.” I whined, looking down at him. The sight was beautiful. His brows were furrowed, and his lips were parted, as he released ragged breaths.

“C’mon baby give it to me. Cum on my dick.” He groaned finally looking up at me. As soon as we made eye contact, my orgasm shook my body. “Good fucking girl.” He grunted, as he fucked me through it. I huffed, falling onto his chest as thrusted a few more times finally releasing into me with a groan.

We laid there for what felt like hours, catching our breaths just holding each other. He placed a kiss on top of my head, before gently pushing me off onto the bed beside him. He reached down grabbing the towel he wore earlier, and cleaned us off.

Once we were clean he grabbed my comforter, pulling it over us. He pulled me into his arms, as I snuggled deep into his chest. “I love you so much y/n. You’re the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on. I will spend every minute proving that to you from now on. Please don’t let some dick head make you think differently.”

I felt my eyes well up with tears again, as I placed a gentle kiss to the middle of his chest. “I love you.”

[thewulf]

The Last Time || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - Hotch x reader fic based on the last time by taylor swift and gary lightbody

A/N: I just love a good angst to comfort. Thanks so much for the request anon! I had a good time writing this :) Let me know your thoughts!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

Word Count: 2.6k+

“Hey A.” You grinned leaning up on your tip toes to kiss your husband on the cheek. You noticed the small breath he let out before putting on a façade, a smile on his face.

“Hi sweetheart.” He pulled you in without much thought. Smelling the top of your head you instinctually melted into him. You knew how hard his job was. The horror of the cases he saw on a daily basis. Choosing which serial killers, he and his team went after and which ones they had to ignore, for now. You knew how he felt like he played God with people’s lives. How heavy those decisions weighed on him.

When you pulled away you studied his face. He looked utterly exhausted. When was the last time he’d taken even a day away from the office? You knew it usually didn’t lead to anything good, so you’d shut up about it, “How was your day babe? Jack aced his math test, took him out for some ice cream.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together, “He had a math test?”

You nodded hiding the disappointment of his increasing absence over the last few months. The BAU seemingly taking over his entire life, “Pre-algebra. He’s been studying all week.” You didn’t want to make him feel worse, but you didn’t want to lie either. Jack had been studying. Vying for his father’s attention which seemed to be entirely elsewhere.

A curt nod. One you were sure was reserved usually for the team, “Thanks for letting me know.”

You sighed, tired of his absence, “Yeah, sure.” Breaking from his embrace you walked over to the fridge not having a plan in mind but not really wanting to be around him.

“You’re mad.” He stated sitting down at the barstool underneath the kitchen island.

Closing the refrigerator door, you looked at him with your eyebrows raised, “You’re good at your job Aaron.” Placing an emphasis on the word job you crossed your arms over your chest careful to keep your voice down. You’d just gotten Rosie, your toddler, down for sleep and God forbid Jack here a nasty spat between his parents.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He stood from the barstool making his way toward your slowly.

You shrugged, not really wanting to pick a fight right now. He was home now, you wanted his time not an argument when he was home, “You’re a profiler, figure it out. I’m tired A. Can we just watch a show and order some takeout?” You tried to change the conversation away from the looming fight and into a calmer one.

His eyebrows scrunched together further. Something was wrong. You were acting weird. When was the last time he’d even talked to his you, his wife he adored more than the world? Sure, he knew he’d gotten caught up at work over the last few months, but he might not have realized just how severely he’d been absent from your lives.

“We’ll talk about this in the morning. But for now, that sounds perfect honey.” He smiled letting you lead the way.

But of course, his fucking work phone had to ring. You shuddered hearing the infamous, “This is Hotchner.” After two damn rings. It was like his body was on autopilot.

You sat down on the couch praying that he wouldn’t be leaving. You didn’t even get a night anymore?

“That was Strauss. Emergency case in New York…” He trailed off seeing your distant gaze. One that wasn’t even sad. Wasn’t anything, neutral. Terrifyingly neutral.

Blinking a few times, you looked back up to him, “Do you have to go?” It was a long shot, but one, nonetheless.

He nodded, “I’m sorry honey… I should be back soon.” Even he cringed hearing how indecisive that was.

“When’s soon? Jack has that soccer game on Sunday. You promised you’d be there. This was your weekend off.” You knew how badly you were hurting him, but you just couldn’t find it in you to really give a damn any further. Jack had begged his dad to be there. He’d made the seventh-grade soccer team and wanted his dad at the first game. The odds were slipping away rapidly.

He sighed looking away, “I’ll try honey. Really, I will. But I can’t make any promises, you know that that.”

You gave him a dry laugh, tired. So tired of him choosing the job over you guys. Did you even matter anymore?

“Be sure to make it home, case solved or not Aaron. It’s not that fucking hard.” You rarely cussed in front of him knowing it set a bad tone for the kids, but they weren’t here, and you were at your wits end. He wasn’t listening to you. So, you had to pull out the big boy words. Words that caught his attention.

He cocked his head to the side in surprise. He was looking at you curiously, profiling you surely, “Now sweetheart, you know that

You squinted your eyes feeling the frustration bubble up on over, “Don’t patronize me right now Aaron. We’re tired of you never fucking being here.”

He frowned taking a step forward, “Just let me get through this case and we can talk about it. Yeah?” He tried reasoning. But you weren’t having it, not anymore.

You shook your head, “What happens when Strauss calls again Aaron? Are you going to keep picking her over your wife and fucking kids? Does your daughter even know what her dad even looks like anymore? I don’t think she does.” You spit out with venom in your voice knowing that was an extremely low blow

“Y/N.” He bit back before stopping himself, “You know this is important…”

You cut him off, “More important than me? Rosie? Jack?” You knew a tear had slipped down your cheek, how dramatic.

“Honey, I have to go.”

You couldn’t believe he was going, running, “This is the last time Aaron. I swear to God if you walk through that door…”

He cut you off this time, “I have to. We’ll talk when I’m back.”

You watched in horror as he grabbed that damn bag and walked out the door murmuring a soft ‘I love you’ before vanishing. You had to do something to get his attention because this wasn’t doing it anymore. You texted your mom, asking her to take the kids for the weekend as you needed to go see Allie, your best friend who lived a few hours downstate. She’d agreed no questions asked. Then you were off. You’d dropped the two kids off the next morning at your parents place before hightailing it down to Allie’s.

When you got there she helped you craft a message to your husband. She and her husband had gone through a similar rough patch not that long ago and you could use her help. So why not use it?

‘Hey, A. Kids, are at my mom’s. I’m at Allie’s for the next few days. I’ll be back in time for Jack’s game on Sunday. Need some time away to think about things.’

You’d sent out before waiting for a response. But Allie wouldn’t let you wallow. She took you out making you leave that damn phone at home. You knew you’d be getting chewed out for that later, something about how unsafe that decision could be.

When you’d gotten back to Allie’s home tipsier than you’d care to admit you went straight for your phone. 13 missed calls and five texts. You cringed before opening your phone and reading the string he sent.

‘Please answer the phone.’

‘Why are you at Allie’s? Please just answer the phone.’

‘I’m on my way home. Please call me back, are you alright?’

‘Dammit, please Y/N. You can’t do this to me. I messed up alright. Please just call me. Or text me. Something. I love you.’

‘I love you.’

You shook your head letting a few tears fall freely reading through them. You’d begged him to stay, and he left. Now that you wanted space he was coming to talk? You felt your hands shaking thinking of something to say back to him, your husband. You felt so detached from him, why were you so nervous?

‘I’m fine. Just went out and the phone died. Please don’t come. I need space. Please.’

You wanted to set your phone down, but he replied almost instantly.

‘I’m almost there.’

He wasn’t giving you an option.

‘How? I’m downstate. Go back with your team. They need you or something.’

You were picking a fight and you knew it. You were tipsy and tired and pissed off at your absent husband. The love was always there it was just laying low right now. A caged animal crying to be let out.

‘Flew into another airport. I’ll be there in five.’

You groaned deciding to call him instead. You didn’t want to see him. Afraid you might say something you may regret. You’d gotten exactly what you wanted, his attention. You’d never done something so drastic. But then again, you never had to do anything so drastic before.

Before he could speak when he answered you started talking, “Please don’t come Aaron. I just want to be with my best friend right now.” You knew how little your voice sounded. So distant from the person you always were.

A still silence and his driving vehicle is all you could here before he responded, “I shouldn’t have left. I’m sorry. Please Y/N. We can talk. I need to talk to you. I can’t lose you.” He spit out. You knew that was a big fear of his, after what happened to Haley. Jack now only realized what happened to his biological mom who loved him more than life itself. You couldn’t fathom carrying that around with you.

You had to give in. That soft voice let you know he was actually going through it, “You could never lose me Aaron. I just needed advice and some comfort. My mom didn’t have a problem watching the kids, you know it’s a treat for her.”

“I know.” Aaron sighed as he pulled into the driveway right next to your car. He knew exactly where she lived, he’d visited a fair share of times with you, “I’m here honey.”

You felt your heart rate quicken, “I’ll be right out.” You called out to Allie letting her know what the hell was happening. The one thing you loved and hated about the man. He was relentless. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Walking out a few steps far enough away from the house so that Allie and her husband couldn’t here you watched as Aaron spotted you and made his way right towards you. Gently, he placed his calloused hands on your shoulders pulling you into himself tightly. He brushed the back of your head with his hand while he held your body tightly into his.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart. I don’t…” he paused collecting his thoughts, “I don’t know what I was thinking, I can’t lose you.” At that he gripped you just a little tighter. Calming his nerves you squeezed him back, not nearly as aggressively but a reassurance for his racing mind you knew so well.

When you pulled away you looked up to him with teary eyes, “You stopped listening. Jack’s been all but begging you on his knees for you to pay attention. Rosie asked where you were yesterday Aaron. We miss you. We need you back. I can’t do this alone either. It feels like I have been for the last few months.” You let the tears fall and the damn burst open. You let yourself feel every pent-up emotion, every frustration as you cried.

He pulled you back into his embrace with a frown on his face, “I’m so sorry honey.” He squeezed you tightly while you let the tears flow free. It felt good to have let them out, let pent up emotions you’d been holding back go.

“Just listen.” You mumbled into his chest letting yourself have the breakdown you’d needed.

He squeezed you once more letting you know he’d heard you, loud and clear, “I will. I’m so sorry you had to do this. That I made you feel this way. I just want the promotion so bad that… that I feel like telling Strauss no will hinder it. But I’ll talk to her. I promise. For you. For Jack and Rosie.” He kissed the crown of your head feeling that overwhelming feeling of dread pool in his stomach. He’d done this. He was the reason for your tears. He’d neglected you., the kids.

“I can’t beg you anymore Aaron.” You whispered after the sobs had long since died down and the tears were slow to come, “This is the last time.”

He nodded seeing the seriousness in your eyes, the hurt you’d usually hidden so well, “I hear you.” He brushed a gentle finger over your forehead as he looked over you. He then ran his thumb beneath your eyes collecting the stray tears that were lingering on your skin, “I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

The intensity of his gaze was hard to hold. He was everything and more to you. A sweet crush turned passionate romance that led to where you were today, ten years and a kid later. You knew what you signed up for when you got married but this was on another level. Being single when you’re married is one of the loneliest things you’d gone through. Especially when you’d practically begged for his attention for weeks now. You’d given him one last shot with a Hail Mary attempt, and he’d caught it. You’d never been so unsure of decision before, always being so sure with him. Nobody was perfect, you knew that. But you needed him to see. Thank goodness he did.

When you didn’t respond but instead hugged him he let you do as you needed. Whatever comfort you needed he was willing to provide. But after five minutes of holding each other he needed to break the silence. You certainly weren’t going to.

“Let’s go home? Kids can stay at your moms. Let’s have a day to ourselves tomorrow. Sleep in, make you breakfast and do something fun. How’s that sound?” He asked you softly, continuing to rock you in his arms.

“Yeah, that sounds lovely.” You yawned feeling the late night and the emotions of the day taking its toll on you.

“Then we can pick the kids up on Sunday, take them to breakfast and go to Jack’s soccer game. That sound okay sweetheart?”

You nodded in his chest feeling the warmth spread over you. He was listening. He was going to do what he said he was going to. This was Aaron Hotchner after all, “That sounds perfect A.” You felt okay, content. It was going to be alright. Just a little rough patch is all.

He smiled down at you, “Let’s get you home then, go grab your things and tell Allie I said I’m sorry too.”

You let go of his torso looking at both cars in the driveway, “We have two cars.” You sighed not feeling up for the drive home. It was already pushing eleven o’clock.

He shrugged, “It’s a rental. I’ll have the somebody from the FBI come get it tomorrow.” He pointed to the car he’d drove in on.

You shook your head, “There are some perks to that job of yours.”

He nodded leaning down to give you a quick kiss on the lips, “That there is. Now, let’s get you home. I have some making up to do.” He shot you a wink before pushing you gently in the direction of your best friend’s house.

You turned around with a brilliant smile on your face nodding rapidly, “That you do Hotchner, that you do.” You rushed back inside careful not to let him get the last word in. It certainly was going to be alright.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds:

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[jujutsutrash]

Never mind me this is just my self indulgent weird scenarios. no real content warnings. maybe some angst.

Thinking about Noritoshi Kamo x Reader where it doesn't work out. he is too caught up in his clan bullshit and you don't want to get trapped in that baggage. he needs to become head of the clan, he will need to have a proper spouse. and you don't wanna be judged constantly by his family. so you run, leave the country even, and he never hears from you. he only knows you are alive because every now and again someone from the Tokyo School travels to visit. he doesn't see you for years. until one day he does.

A heavy hearted Noritoshi Kamo who has to visit the Tokyo School one day and ends up seeing you. after four years that seemed like an eternity, he sees you. you. with Yuuta Okkotsu brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. a small boy in his arm.

A phased Noritoshi who has to keep himself from staring in disbelief. you and Yuuta haven't noticed him yet but the boy turns his face around and his eyes catch Noritoshi's. it's only a split second but it feels like infinity.

It has been fours years since you left. you had always been close with Yuuta – and the special grade was always free to travel. it has been four years. Noritoshi tries not to think about it. but that boy looks nowhere under three.

The next time Noritoshi sees you, you are alone. you both exchange greetings, it's polite but distant. his eyes linger on what changed and what remained the same. your eyes have the same shape he knows so well, but they look tired now. your lips follow the same curves, but your smile has changed.

He doesn't ask about the kid, you don't comment either. your greeting is like a business transaction, done and over with. a braver man would have asked, but he isn't quite so brave. so you part ways, he doesn't learn the name of the kid, or his age for that matter.

Noritoshi later catches a glimpse of the boy with Maki – she was one of the few people he knew visited you with regularity, so it made sense. then he sees the kid again with Yuuta. it's through a window, and once more the boy turns around when Yuuta isn't looking.

He doesn't want to stare, not really. but Noritoshi can't help but notice his traits. the little boy has your skin complexion and the shape of your eyes. his hair is raven black, falling straight to his chin. Noritoshi never saw pictures of you as a child – and now he is left wondering.

Noritoshi walks away before he can be noticed. but not before he hears the boy call for his father. when Yuuta's gentle tone responds, Noritoshi feels a sting. he leaves the Tokyo campus that day. he doesn't return for over a year.

In the meantime, Noritoshi learns that you returned to action as a sorcerer. he overhears about where you had lived abroad, and the name of the boy. your son. Katsuhiro. it's a beautiful name, he thinks.

The next time Noritoshi sees Katsuhiro is when he needs to visit the Tokyo campus again. he'd made sure to arrange his trip when you'd be on a mission, but fate didn't care. he spots the kid with Choso, the half cursed spirit taking the little boy somewhere inside the school.

The kid should be about five by now - or closer to six by different calculations. Noritoshi tries not to think too hard about it. about how he is at the age where cursed techniques manifest. about how he heard nothing of it. about how Choso would be a good choice if one needed to train a child with blood manipulation without reaching the Kamo clan.

A braver man would have asked you, but he isn't brave. and now he lingers in the hallway, staring at the place where they turned around – one foot stepping into the sunlight coming through the window, and he doesn't know if he wants to move forward.

Noritoshi tries not to think about it. he really does. not to wonder about what lies behind the walls he cannot cross. not to muse on what ifs. he tries not to think about it. but now he can't even sleep – the thoughts won't silence for a second.

[suckerforprettyboys]

illicit affairs- g.hawthorne

in which a simple interview starts fierce rumors of a secret romance.

wc: 1.3K

my inbox is open for requests! xoxo

The backstage room was cloaked in an awkward silence, broken only by the distant echoes of the camera and make-up crew doing their last minute touches. You, a well known and respected interviewer, were sitting patiently waiting for your interviewee to enter the room. You had your papers neatly stacked, hair perfectly set how you liked it, and a bright smile ready. 

Interviews were nothing new for you, it was quite literally your job, but today’s interview would be rather difficult in comparison to the usual interviews. You were interviewing a well known businessman and entrepreneur, the heir to the Hawthorne fortune: Grayson Davenport Hawthorne. 

Your mind is sucked from your thoughts as the door swings open, a rather annoyed and stoic looking Grayson straightening up his suit. He walks over, sticking out his hand for a handshake.

“Grayson Hawthorne, pleased to meet you,” he introduces himself, not even cracking a smile. 

You introduce yourself as well, presenting a sweet smile to go along with your words. He just stares at you, unimpressed, almost looking bored. 

“Oh boy, he seems like a joy” you think to yourself, not letting the negativity of your thoughts slip into your kind and warm demeanor. 

As the two of you settle into the interview space, the atmosphere grows increasingly frosty and tense. Grayson was clearly not in the mood to answer any hard hitting questions today, answering with the most vague responses possible. This left you to navigate through a maze of one-worded answers and dismissive gestures. 

It soon became evident that this interview would be a test of your ability to crack the enigma that was Grayson Hawthorne. 

The minutes ticked by slowly, and you pressed on, determined to unravel the layers of the unyielding celebrity. Little did they know, this encounter would become a battle of wits, a dance between an interviewer seeking to break through his icy demeanor and a stubborn man determined to maintain his impenetrable facade. 

Despite the obvious tension in the room, you continue on with your hard hitting questions, determined to get something out of Grayson Hawthorne. The air hung heavy, each question met with unspoken challenges and calculated responses. Grayson wasn’t a lot in your eyes, but the bastard was good. 

In a subtle shift, you decide to take a less business approach to the questions and quite beating around the bush. 

“So,” You smile sneakily, leaning forward as you fold your hands in your lap. “The Heiress, Ms. Grambs. Any comments on her you would like the world to know, or are you gonna shut this topic down too?” You smirk to yourself as you see a slight glimmer in his eye from your boldness. Maybe it was just the set lights that hit his perfect face just right, but you knew damn well he had something to say from the way he brightened up ever so slightly.

“No comment.” He says coldly, shifting in his chair. He crossed one leg of the other in your direction, body language indicating his slight interest in your approach to the questioning. 

He didn’t trust you, but he was opening up. Ever so slightly.

You smile warmly, laughing softly to try and clear the atmosphere. “Well folks, there’s your answer.” You turn back towards Grayson, looking him straight in the eyes as if willing him to give you something, anything. “Not to sound too forward, but you are a very handsome and wealthy young man. You have stated in previous interviews that, and I quote, ‘dating is not your thing, never has been and won’t be for the foreseeable future if you can help it,” You smile sneakily once again. 

“Does that still apply, or has a special someone changed your perspective on that?”

Grayson goes slightly stiff at your words. You take note of this, deciding that this would be that last romance question in an attempt to get him to feel comfortable. 

“I stand by the previous statements made regarding that particular topic.” He says, unfazed and bored. 

You lean back in your seat, uncrossing you legs and sighing, “Mr. Hawthorne, you are one tough cookie to crack.” You laugh, smiling sweetly at him. “I assume privacy is one of the things you value most?”

“Yes, it is.” He nods, but gives no other indication of emotions.

Bingo. You’ve gotten him to talk. And you are running with it. 

You smile, locking eyes with him again, “And is there any particular situation that made that choice set in stone? Or has that just been something you’ve always lived by?” You watch his eyes flicker with something, but you aren’t sure what.

“I grew up watching what the media had done to family members and the little bit they showed the press and chose to just steer clear indefinitely. It is better to avoid a burning building and wonder what would have happened then to walk in and burn.” He folds his hands in his lap, re-cuffing the sleeves.

You smile from ear to ear, overjoyed that he had gotten out more than a few words. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

“You never had to.” Grayson cuts in, expression cold. It was clear this was a sensitive topic, so you decide not to push any farther. 

“I suppose I never did, my sympathy to those who found out the hard way.” You nod. Then, as if nothing had happened, your bright smile is back.

“Alright, Mr. Hawthorne. I believe that is all the questions I have for today.” You shake his hand again, thanking him for coming out and saying goodbye to your audience. Grayson gets up immediately, looking as if he was fighting to leave the room. 

You choose to ignore it, speaking with the camera crew and production team as the wrap up.

---

Less than a half hour later you are walking back to your dressing room, a nagging feeling in your cut. You feel guilty, not sure for what, but the feeling is there non the less. 

“Fuck it,” You think to yourself, heading towards the guest dressing room.

You knock on the door. No response. 

“Hello?” You call out, only to be met with no response once again. You continue to knock for a few more minutes, ear pressed to the door for any indication of life on the other side of the door.

Eventually, a staff member finds you looking like a creep with your ear pressed to the door. She tells you that Grayson was on his way to his limo and he was quite grumpy. At this news your stomach drops, concerned that you had been the root of his unhappiness. 

You weren’t sure why that particular fact bothered you.

You intercept him outside on the way to his car, hand waving in the air to catch his attention. 

“Mr. Hawthorne!” You yell, causing him to turn. His eyes narrow, brows furrowing as he looks down at you.

“Hi,” You smile, slightly out of breath from chasing him down. “Can I speak with you for a quick second?”

Grayson glances back at his bodyguard, giving a silent signal in the form of a nod. He steps off to the side, nodding at you stiffly. 

“Quickly.” He spits out rather rudely.

“I wanted to apologize.” You say softly, eyes locked on his to show your genuine intention.

This catches Grayson off guard, “Apologize for what exactly?” He slightly quirks a brow, still peering down at you.

“For overstepping the boundaries of the interview. The description of the question I sent your agent had nothing to do with personal life or romance and it was inappropriate of me to ask such things of a total stranger.” You ramble, talking with your hands, the complete opposite from your shiny and perfect interviewer persona. 

Grayson just nods stiffly at you once again, offering no answer as you continue on.

“I’ll have the production team cut anything other than strictly business conversation or we can cut the interview entirely if you wish.”

“No need.” He says quietly. “Just cut the things not described in the papers sent to my agent and myself.”

You let out a sigh of relief, smiling at him “Thank you so much, Mr. Hawthorne”

“Grayson.” He cuts you off. “Just Grayson is ok. Mr. Hawthorne makes me sound old.” He says curtly, turning to leave.

You just stand there as he gets in the limo, waving stiffly at you. Your eyes follow the limo as it leaves, confused as to what had just happened.

The picks up, causing you to shiver slightly, wrapping your arms around yourself. The shutter of a camera catches your attention in the distance. A group of maybe 3 paparazzi were huddled behind a group of bushes, holding their cameras in your direction.

You offer a sweet and warm smile, waving at them as they flick a few more pictures before walking off. You simply shrug, heading back inside for the warmth of the building.

Weird. 

---

Later that evening, you were finishing up with the production team getting the right clips in the right order and making everything look amazing. 

“Ok, guys. Looks great!” You smile proudly, thanking your team for all their great work throughout the day. The sound of your name being called catches your attention, causing you to turn.

Your eyes land on your agent, peeking her head through the door and asking to speak with you outside. You nod, slightly confused, and follow her into the small hallway. 

She looks at you with an odd look, “How are we gonna clean this up?” She says.

“Clean up what?” You laugh nervously, “What happened?”

She quirks an eyebrow at you, telling you to check your phone. You furrow your brows in confusion, pulling out your phone.

The second you laid eyes on it the screen glows with an endless amount of notifications: texts, dm’s, emails, and missed phone calls. Out of curiosity you click on one of the emails, leading you to an article link.

Hawthorne Heir Apparent and Heart-throb Grayson Hawthorne Spotted with Well-Known Interviewer and Possible New Girlfriend, and the cover was a picture of you and Grayson speaking in the parking lot.

Your stomach drops, “Shit.”

[bluelavendre]

Title: "Surviving Together"

Fandom: BTS

Pairing BTS ot7 x Reader

Zombie Au inspired a bit by All of us are dead series

Chapter 15: "Whispers of the Past and the Unseen Threat"

The world is silent tonight, save for the occasional crack of a twig or the rustle of the wind sweeping through the trees. You sit alone by the edge of the camp, your gaze distant, lost in the memories of a time before the world had turned into a nightmare. The fire flickers behind you, casting long shadows, but you don’t feel its warmth. All you can think of is the life you used to know, the faces of your family, your friends, the things you took for granted before everything changed.

Your mind drifts back to simpler days, to moments when the biggest worry was getting through the school day, or wondering if you'd make it to the next big event. You remember the quiet mornings, the laughter of friends, the smell of fresh food cooking, and the feeling of a world that felt stable—safe.

How long has it been since you’ve felt safe?

The air feels heavier tonight, thick with a mix of tension and uncertainty. The group has been trying to stay hopeful, clinging to the idea of finding a safe zone, a place where you can finally escape the madness. But deep down, you know there’s no real certainty left. This world—this new world—doesn’t have room for hope anymore. Only survival.

As you sit, lost in your thoughts, you sense movement in your peripheral vision. The others are watching you—Jin, Jimin, Namjoon, and even Yoongi, though he’s standing a bit farther away, as usual, keeping a protective distance. They watch you with an intensity that you’ve become familiar with over the last few days. There’s something in their eyes—something that makes your chest tighten. You’ve seen it before, but now it feels different. The way they look at you, as if you’re the last piece of something they’re trying to hold onto.

You can’t help but feel self-conscious, though they never say anything. Their attention makes you uneasy. The weight of it presses down on your shoulders. Their kindness, their concern—it's all starting to blur together, making it harder to tell where their genuine care ends and where something more... complicated begins.

You glance at Yoongi. He’s always watching from the shadows, but tonight his gaze is more direct, though he says nothing. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a subtle warmth in his eyes, something that makes your heart skip a beat. Then there’s Jimin, who’s standing with his arms crossed, looking at you with a quiet smile, as if trying to reassure you without words.

They don’t speak, but their presence speaks volumes. You wish you could say something to them, to explain how overwhelming it all is, but the words never seem to come. Instead, you look away, focusing on the dark expanse before you, trying to quiet the thoughts racing through your mind.

And then there’s Taehyung.

Taehyung is nowhere to be seen.

You glance over at the fire. He’s sitting with Hana, talking in hushed tones, their heads close together. You feel a pang in your chest—a sharp, sudden feeling you can’t quite place. It’s not jealousy. Not exactly. But it hurts, nonetheless. Taehyung and Hana have grown closer these past few days, and even though you try not to let it bother you, it does. Watching them, you can’t help but feel... left behind.

You lower your gaze, not wanting to make a scene, not wanting to show the others how much it affects you. But it’s hard to ignore. The tension in the group is palpable, and you’re caught somewhere in the middle of it all.

The quiet moment between you and the group is shattered by an unexpected sound. A soft, muffled scream.

It comes from the direction of where Taehyung and Hana are sitting.

You freeze. The sound is enough to send chills down your spine. Instantly, your body reacts, adrenaline surging through your veins. You turn around, eyes wide, searching for the source of the noise.

Taehyung is standing now, his face frozen in disbelief. Hana... Hana is on the ground. Her body twitching violently, her eyes wide open but unseeing, her mouth twisted in a grotesque snarl. The others jump to their feet at the same time, their movements frantic, but no one can move fast enough.

“W-what the hell?” Jin breathes out, his voice a mix of confusion and horror. His eyes shift toward Taehyung, whose face has gone pale, his hands shaking as he stares at Hana.

No one moves. It’s as if the world has stopped, as if no one can quite process what’s happening before them. The fire crackles, casting an eerie glow over Hana’s contorting form.

Taehyung is frozen in place, his mouth open, but no words come out. He watches as Hana begins to convulse violently, the unmistakable signs of infection taking over her body. Her skin begins to turn a sickly gray, her teeth bared in a wild, primal way. The unmistakable transformation is happening before everyone’s eyes.

And then, with a final, guttural scream, Hana lunges forward, her teeth snapping at Taehyung.

“NO!” Taehyung shouts, stumbling backward in a panic, but it’s too late. Hana, now fully turned, grabs hold of his arm, sinking her teeth into his flesh.

The others spring into action immediately, but you’re still paralyzed, rooted to the spot. You’re watching this unfold, and it’s hard to believe it’s real.

Taehyung’s scream is heart-wrenching, but it’s cut short as the others pull Hana away from him. She’s still struggling, still snapping her jaws, but now there’s nothing human left in her.

Yoongi is the first to react, pulling a makeshift weapon from his bag, but he’s careful. He doesn’t want to hurt Taehyung in the chaos. Jimin and Namjoon are already pushing Hana away, pinning her down to the ground as quickly as they can.

The sound of her snarling fills the air, a constant reminder of how fragile everything is. It’s too much to process all at once.

But in that moment, all you can do is watch as Taehyung stumbles back, blood dripping from his arm, his face a mixture of pain and confusion. He doesn’t seem to understand what just happened, and maybe... maybe he never will.

The group quickly moves to tend to Taehyung’s wound, and you can’t help but feel a deep sadness wash over you. Hana is gone—completely gone—and the reality of their situation hits you harder than ever before.

But it’s Taehyung who you focus on now. He’s bleeding, his arm marked by the teeth of the one person he thought he could trust. You want to say something, anything, but the words stick in your throat.

Yoongi is the one who steps forward, his hands gently taking Taehyung’s arm. There’s no panic in his movements, just a quiet determination to help.

“You’re going to be okay,” Yoongi mutters, but his voice betrays a hint of uncertainty.

The others look at you, their eyes filled with concern, but there’s nothing they can do to undo what just happened.

Taehyung’s eyes lock onto yours, a fleeting glance that speaks volumes in the silence between you. His face is pale, the shock still evident, but there’s something else in his gaze—a depth of emotion that cuts through the chaos. He’s hurt. He’s lost. And he’s questioning everything.

And in that moment, you realize that survival isn’t just about the infected—it’s about the people you’ve chosen to fight alongside. And as much as you may not want to admit it, you realize that the lines between friendship, love, and survival are becoming dangerously blurred.

To be continued...

[stranger-things-yapper]

fuck it, Madwheeler fanfic:

At some point after Max broke up with Lucas, Mike tries to talk to her. He says he wants to trades notes with her, since they have Spanish together and that class is kicking his ass. It's not a lie, but it is a pretext - he wants to check on her, too, since he's never seen Max be this serious about their breakups. It's been months, and she stopped laughing or smiling after that. Mike will never admit it, but he is worried.

Max, however, does not want to be checked on.

"Look, Mike, you don't have to do this anymore."

"Do what?" Mike asks, furrowing his brow in genuine confusion.

"Pretend that you tolerate me," Max answers, catching Mike off guard. "Me and Lucas are done, I don't intend to get back with him, so you don't have to act like you give a shit, okay? You won."

"I don't pretend to tolerate you," he starts, but Max scoffs.

"Oh please, Mike, you hated me since I moved here." Max says plainly, and Mike has a hard time refuting the claim. "You never wanted me in your party, and if it weren't for Lucas, I would have stopped talking to all of you way before," she looked at the floor, seeming very distant for a moment, "everything that happened. So just leave me alone, okay?"

She turns to leave, but Mike runs to face her again. "Wait, wait, wait. Can you just hear me out for a second?" Max crosses her arms in front of her, but doesn't leave. He takes this as his cue to keep talking.

"Okay, you're right, I didn't like you being with the party at first. But a lot has happened since then," Mike says, to which Max looks away again. He keeps going anyway. "And I know you might not like it, but you are the only other person that I know that had to deal with someone you cared about," he looks around and leans closer, lowering his voice, "being possessed by the Mindflayer." Mike stares at Max meaningfully. She holds his gaze, which Mike takes as a good sign. "We can't really talk about that with the school counselor, now, can we?"

Max takes a deep breath, rolls her eyes slightly and gives Mike a single nod. She's reluctant, but there's no denying it, he's right. He takes a step forward, voice still low.

"Look, I know it's not ideal, but we're the only ones who know how much that fucking sucks." Mike is staring straight into Max's eyes now. She stares back, unblinking, as if evaluating what he's saying. "So, it'd be nice to be able to talk about this with someone who understands, you know?" Mike shrugs. "We could take turns complaining about it, if you'd like. Or not. Either way, I'm here."

Mike deposits an awkward hand on her arm. She looks down at it, then back up to him. She didn't remove his hand, but her expression was indecipherable. They share that look for a moment too long, and Mike is suddenly aware that they are very close together. They've never stood this close before. He sees her eyes dart quickly from his lips and back, and his eyes do the same, almost like a queued response. Mike could be imagining things, but he thought he saw Max's expression soften just slightly. He felt his face start to burn.

He slowly removed his hand from her arm, taking a step back and straightening back up, trying to break the sudden tension between them. Not the best move to invade the personal space of a girl who admittedly hates you, specially when you are trying to convince her to keep talking to you. He saw Max's shoulders rise and fall in a deep breath before she finally spoke.

"Okay," she said, her voice serious, but without the sarcastic edge that was usually directed at Mike. A nice change of pace, if he was being honest. "I'll keep that in mind."

That relaxed Mike's shoulders - he didn't know they were tensed up until now. "Cool," he said, curving one corner of his mouth into a sympathetic half-smile. He said his goodbyes and rushed back to his sister's car, looking back to see Max skating to the opposite direction.

He hoped she would remember she could talk to him. And he tried not to think about how very blue Max's eyes were, and how close they had been just minutes ago.