#healthy smile seniors

[happyteethcare]

Oral Health and Aging: How to Keep Your Smile Healthy as You Grow Older

As we age, maintaining oral health becomes increasingly vital. Proper oral care not only preserves the functionality and aesthetics of your smile but also plays a critical role in overall health. Aging impacts the body in many ways, and oral health is no exception. In this guide, we will explore how aging affects oral health and share practical strategies for keeping your smile healthy in your…

[spidybaby]

Silenced

Summary: Gavi noticed how suddenly you became quiet and shy around him. Thinking he did something bad, he confronted you about it.

Warnings: cursing.

Gavi and you are opposites. Everybody knows it.

You are an extrovert, you love to be around people, you love talking, you love attention.

Gavi is an introvert, he's shy, he's quiet, he prefers when people talk and when the attention is not on him.

You say that's what makes you perfect for each other. Because you motivate him to be more open and he calms you down when you need.

It's like having the best of both worlds, that's what his parents would say.

"Y/n, you are here!" Aurora runs to hug you. "I thought you were in Sevilla."

"I was, but I wasn't going to let you spend your birthday without me." You hug her tightly. "Open your gift."

She pulls you to the couch, opening the gift as soon as you hit the cushion. "No way!" She smiles. "You didn't."

"It was hard to get, I'll admit." You say. "But I know how much you wanted it." You hug her again.

"Thank you, you are the best." She kisses your cheek. "By the way, Pablo is with dad and mom. He's pouting, so I think you can fix that."

You laugh with her. Walking over to the garden where family and friends are. You walk slowly to Pablo, he was watching something on tik tok.

You sit next to him, his parents smiling at how distracted he is. "Hola, preciosa. It's so good to see you." His father says.

"Pablo, serve some water to Aurora's friend." His mom says, trying to get him to notice you.

He left the phone on the table, grabbing a cup and serving some water. He hands you the cup with his eyes still on the screen.

"Gracias, Pablo." You say, about to laugh at how cute he looks all focused.

He lifts his eyes, looking at you. "Guapa!" He smiles. The table laughed at how his eyes got shinny and his mood got better.

The rest of the evening, he didn't separate. He didn't look at his phone. He was focused on hearing you talk about your vacation trip and your last days at sevilla.

He loves hearing you talk, he finds all your stories very interesting. He loves how your eyes shine when you talk about the memories you made.

"Hola, Pablo." A elderly woman says. Touching his shoulders.

"Hola," he says in a serious tone. "This is my girlfriend, Y/n." He introduced you. You wave to her, smiling. "Y/n, this is my aunt Paloma."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am."

She sat in the chair in front of you two, talking with Pablo senior. You two keep talking, well you keep doing it.

"I got that recipe of those cookies you liked." You smile at him. Telling her all your plans. "I think I can make it for you, I just need some ingredients. And I saw this tik tok of a very healthy and non sugary glaze for cookies that you will love. Now that you are back on your diet, I think I can make the cookies more healthy with some organic ingredients." He smiles, knowing that you supported all his restrictions.

"I'm going to go get some juice. Do you want some?" He asks. Getting up from his seat. You nod, thanking him. "Be right back."

You check your phone, you answer some texts from your family, and answer some dms you got after posting a story with Pablo.

"You are such a sweetheart." His aunt says. Making you pay attention. "Isn't she one Pablo?"

"She is." His father smiles. "She's such a nice girl to our Gavi."

"But my oh my, sweetie." She laughs. "You like to talk, I don't know how you do it. I feel lightheaded just by hearing you ramble."

You shily smile, knowing you do talk a lot, and that can be stressful for some people. "Sorry." You say.

"Maybe that's why Gavi likes her." She says to his father. "He gets to be the quiet one like he always was."

They laugh, making you blush. You know you sometimes do talk about a lot of things in one moment, but Pablo never complained.

"Don't get me wrong, cupcake." She says, still laughing. "He totally likes it."

You smile. Pablo has no problem hearing you rambling all night if that's what you wanted to do.

"Here's your juice, Princesa." He says, taking a seat next to you again. You thank him, and he got closer to kissing your shoulder. "Now, why don't you tell me again about that museum you visited in Paris?"

You smile, turning fully to him to tell him again about your adventure at the Louvre museum.

"Fermin, can you get me a bottle of water too?"

Pablo and his friends from La Masia were at his house, they were visiting Pablo and having a little goodbye party for Marc.

You weren't there to bother, but Pablo invited you to go out with him and his sister and you were a little early, so they asked you to joined them.

"Hola, sorry about crushing the party. I was a few blocks away, and it made sense to just come by."

They all say hi back and tell you to enjoy with them the rest of the time they'll be there.

"Hi Marc, sorry to intrude your goodbye party."

"Hola, no biggie, sit and enjoy some cake." Marc smiles. "Gavi, get her some cake."

Gavi walks over to the table where the cake is placed, cutting a piece for you. You loved chocolate cake, so he gets you a big piece.

"How are you, Y/n?" Fermin asks.

"I'm good, been busy lately, college pre courses and things like that. How are you feeling after the Euros?"

"It was amazing, winning and being able to share my first tournament." He smiles. "Gavi wasn't there, but I know he will come back, and we will play together."

You love the relationship Fermin and Pablo have. They all have an amazing brotherhood. La masia really made them a family.

"What courses are you taking?" Fermin asks.

You began telling him about the pre courses you were taking to be able to graduate early.

If someone loves hearing other people talk apart from Gavi, was Fermin. He enjoys a good talk, being able to have long conversations.

So, to him, it was nice that you extended the conversation as long as you wanted.

You tell him everything, literally everything, and he asked things here and there for you to explain.

Hector is seated next to Marc, who is in front of Fermin and you. He was paying attention to the conversation.

"Hey, Guapa." Gavi says, getting your attention. "I forgot your drink." He smiles, handing you a soda can.

"Thank you, I'm thirsty." You joke with him. Making him chuckle, walking back to Ansu.

Hector is someone who's brutally honest. He had no filter when he wanted to say something. Not that it's bad, but sometimes he just says what he thinks without processing the words.

"You must be." He laughs. Making you turn to him. "After everything you told Fermin. You've been talking for a good ten minutes without stopping."

You look down to your untouched cake. Feeling shy about being called out for talking too much by two people close to Gavi.

"God, maybe that's why Pablo never talks." He jokes, not sensing that you don't understand he's joking. "Because he must be tired for you."

That makes Marc and Fermin laugh, they did understand the joke. But they don't notice how you don't laugh or smile.

"Sorry, I sometimes get carried away with conversations." You say, eating the cake and not lifting your sight to hide the fact that your eyes got glossy.

They talk with each other for a little bit. You excuse yourself to move upstairs. You don't feel like talking anymore.

You always got told to shut up by people around you when you were little. Always sensing the discomfort of people when you joined a party or a new group.

That changed when you met your friends from college, they encouraged you to talk and to be as open as you want with the stories you wanted to share.

And when Pablo and you met, at first you were careful, trying not to show how "crazy" you were by literally throwing words up.

But once you were in full trust mode, you started with the talking. Pablo then confessed that he loved how much you talked.

But lately, you were getting the comments you used to get. Feeling like you needed to be quiet and just say a minimum of ten words or less.

Thing you forced yourself to do, only ten words every time someone asked you something you made yourself answers with few words.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Pablo asks. Closing the door behind him.

"I was -" You stopped. You know he's very quick to get angry, and if you tell what happened, he was going to shout at Hector. "I just gave you space to be with your friends." You fake smile. "Go back, I'll have you tonight."

You kissed his lips and then pushed him out of the room. "I'll make them leave so we can spend some time alone."

"Don't" you point at him. "Go enjoy your friends."

But Pablo didn't mind hurrying the party to an end. Letting the others pick the mess while he watches.

"Thank you for everything, bro." Marc says, hugging him. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too." He says, smiling. "Have fun in Chelsea."

"Will send you a jersey." They laugh. "Tell Y/n goodbye for me."

"For us too. See you at training." Fermin and Hector say. Giving Gavi a high five.

He hurries upstairs carefully because he doesn't want to trip on the stairs and hurt himself. He opens the door, finding you watching something on the tv.

You smile at the sight of him, opening your arms. He smiles, throwing himself at you, settling between your legs and pressing you down the mattress.

"Dios mio, Pablo." You laugh, feeling his weight.

"Te amo." He smiles, kissing your neck and cleavage. "Let's call my parents and tell them we are not going."

You humm at the way his lips feel on your warm skin. How his hands are now on your ass, lifting you.

"Don't stop." You beg, moaning.

His hips move, creating a static feeling between your clothed body. A warm feeling that is making your roll your eyes.

Your hands pull his shirt off. His hands unbutton your pants, hand making its way down your most needed part.

He loves the way you moan his name, the way your eyes roll with every trust his hips make. He's intoxicated by you. The same way you feel intoxicated by him.

"Don't you think it is rude to leave your parents and sister alone at the restaurant?" You ask, seating on top of him.

"No, I don't." He laughs. "Arms up." He commands.

You pull your arms up, and he dresses you with his shirt. "Mmm." You exaggerate. "Smells like you." You laugh, kissing him.

He smirks, proud of himself. The look of you is worth like a work of art. Your messed-up hair and your dilated pupils, and the way you are bitting your lips while tracing his muscles with your fingertips.

"Te ves tan preciosa." He kisses your shoulders. Hugging your body and caressing your ass. Making you moan at the feeling of relaxation.

The moment is broken by his phone ringing. The ID caller showing the name of his sister. He groans, moving one of his hands to answer the phone.

"Hola." He says, putting the call on speaker. Leaving it in the night stand and focusing on hugging you again.

"Pablo, did you get my text?"

"No, what is it about?"

You kiss his cheeks. Drunk in love and still into the effects of the orgasms he gave you. Your hands comb his hair while you kiss his temple.

"We picked food and are about to get to your home. The restaurant had an emergency and closed the dining room, but they had takeout.

"Qué?" He asks, checking the text. She asked multiple times what he wanted from the restaurant, then what she was picking, she mentioned she texted you and also picked for you and that they were leaving the restaurant.

"We are like fifteen minutes away. Can you order something for dessert?"

"Si, I'll do it. Bye." He hangs up. "Preciosa, let's get dressed."

"No," you say, extending the o. "I want to stay like this with you."

"Mee too, preciosa. But my parents and sister are coming any moment now, so let's change and when they leave we can cuddle. Deal?" He asks, kissing your forehead.

"Deal." You bump your nose with his. "But I want to stay in your shirt. Please."

He kiss you. "Let's go get ready."

He helps you with your clothes. Sharing some kisses here and there. He tries to get the room to not look like the mess you two make. In case his mom or dad needed to get inside.

He goes downstairs, finding you putting the table together. "Guapa, what kind of dessert do you want?"

"Oh, maybe that pina colada cheesecake we tried the other day." You smile, feeling hungry for it.

He orders it. Just in time because his family git a few minutes later. They greet the two of you.

"I texted you guys." Aurora says.

"It was my fault, I asked Pablo to explain this NBA game, and the phone was silent."

"The Lakers one?" His father asks.

"Yes, they won." Pablo smiles. Kissing your shoulder.

They all ask Pablo how his trainings were, if he was has difficulty with how he's exercising. You stayed quiet, still feeling a little sensitive about the comment Hector did.

Aurora looks at you. She finds how weird it is for you to be quiet. She thinks that maybe something happened with her brother and that's why you are so quiet.

You received the cheesecake, telling them that you would cut it and serve it for them. Aurora took this as an opportunity to talk with you in private.

"Hey, are you okay?" She asks, noticing that you are quiet even with only her.

"Just tired." You half lie.

You were tired after yours and Pablos activities, but also not in the mood to bore people or to make them dizzy with your conversation.

"You know you can talk to me."

"Thank you, I'm fine." You hug her. "I promise I'm just tired."

Pablo noticed it too, you were silent.

You weren't as smiley as you were with his family around. You were more serious. He wanted to ask.

"Are you okay?" He asks, kissing your head.

You two were laying down in his bed, his fingers combing your hair, and his other hand was rumming up and down your back.

You humm, trying to drizz to sleep. He let it go. Blaming your mood on being tired and wanting to sleep.

"I can take you to class tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Si, I'd really appreciate it." You snuggle closer.

He knows you would tell him if something was wrong, if you were hurt, or if he did something. You were honest with him.

But you really weren't honest with him. You chose to retake what you used to do back in the day when people asked you to stop talking.

You fully controlled whatever came out of your mouth. When you were with Pablo or with his family, you were into this new mode.

That made them worry. You told them that you were just stressed with homework and with projects.

Pablo on the other hand didn't fully bought that story. He thought it was something else, but he was way too afraid to ask.

He felt guilty because he thought that maybe something he did was the cause of this behavior.

Aurora told him off, believing that you were just overwhelmed with college things. Maybe because she was, and she chose to believe you.

But when he picked you to go get lunch, he saw you with your friend, you were laughing and talking with such naturality that it makes him feel worse.

"Hola!" You say to him from outside the vehicle. "Bye, I'll call you later."

"Bye, have fun, please do call me. I need you to keep telling me more about the story." She smiles. "Hi and goodbye, Pablo."

"Hi and goodbye to you." Pablo says, smiling at her. "Let's go, Guapa."

The first part of the drive was very quiet. You don't think there's any tension. You just stayed a little too quiet, but it was not like you were mad at him.

To him, it was hell. Why weren't you talking? Why weren't you telling him about your day? He wanted to hear you.

"How was college?" He asks.

"Good." You smile, bringing his hand to your mouth and kissing it.

"What story was your friend talking about?" He asks, trying to get you to talk.

"Oh, nothing." You scuff. "How was your day?"

"C'mon, you know I'm a chismoso."

"It was just about my trip to Valencia."

"Okay."

"Venga! What the fuck is that yellow for?" Pablo says, angry at the referee on tv.

You two were watching a game, he was invited to go with the team but he wanted to spend some time with you.

He was getting busy and close to his comeback date. So for him, it was about spending all the time he could with you and his family.

"That was wrong." You say.

It's been almost six weeks since the incident at his house. You were very good at controlling how much you were talking.

But him, he was losing his mind.

He tried asking questions. Nothing.

He tried asking if something was wrong, not directly, but he did asked.

He tried making Aurora ask. Nothing.

He tried everything, but talking to you.

"Hey, do you remember that one trip we took to Ibiza?"

You smile at the memory, you loved remembering things you two did together.

"Yes, we need to find some time to do that again."

"We do." He smiles. "But I was asking because I tried to remember this story about that painting we saw at the museum tour."

"The one about the princess?"

"Yes, do you remember what it was about?"

"It was about an Aztec princess who -"

You got interrupted by the commentator screaming at a goal Raphinha just scored.

"Jo'er, that was good, and we lost it."

You got quiet again, thinking that maybe he got mad about missing that.

"You were saying, preciosa?"

You shake your head, hugging his waist. "I forgot what I was saying. That was an amazing goal. I can't wait to see you back on the field."

He forgot for a moment what he was trying to do, hugging you back and combing your hair while the fame continued.

"Aurora and I are going to a bonfire tomorrow." You tell him. You were happy about it because you missed your friends and Aurora.

"That's so cool, why for?"

"Just a nice after tests reunion." You smile at him.

"Don't burn yourself, but do eat marshmallows." He jokes, making you laugh.

You two continue to watch the game, enjoying each other's company. You love times like this because Pablo has such little free time that when you do get the time to just be on the couch in each other's arms. You can't complain about anything, just enjoy.

"Hola!" Aurora shouts to all your friends. "We are here, and we got the drinks." You lift the bottle and the package of red cups. "Ready to party?"

Your friends yell in happiness. Making you two laugh. "Hey, I have someone I want to introduce you to."

You followed her inside the beach house, leaving the bottles and cups in the snacks table where everyone dumped what they brought.

"Mikayla, come here." She calls someone in the kitchen. "Y/n, this is Mikayla. She's new in the faculty, Mikayla, this is Y/n."

"The girlfriend." She says.

"Yes, she's Pablo's girlfriend."

You smile at her, weird comment to make about how you are "the girlfriend" as if Aurora haven't told her your name just a second ago.

"Nice to meet you." You fake smile. "I'm going to go help outside with the fire and everything. Can you bring the things to make the smores?" You ask Aurora, not really paying attention to the girl.

You helped your friends with the fire, with mixing the drinks. You were having a lot of fun. You were talking with one of your class friends about how this project you two are doing.

The day was going great, you had so much fun talking and spending time with all your close friends.

You were sat on a beach blanket, drinking a piña colada and texting Pablo how the evening was going.

"Can I sit?" You hear someone saying. Making you look up.

"Sure." You say to Mikayla, going back to your phone. Pablo sent you a photo of him on the physio.

She takes a seat in front of you, "Aurora told me a lot about you."

You smile, knowing Aurora always talks about you with love and care.

"When she told me about you talking a lot, I never thought you were a word dumpster." She laughs.

You got serious, smile disappearing from your face. You want to smack that horrible grind and quiet down that laugh.

"You talk what everybody here doesn't talk." She keeps going.

"What are you talking about?" Aurora joined.

"For once, I think I'm the one talking because your friend right here was doing all the talking all day."

You didn't laughed, you didn't smile. You just looked at them laughing.

"But we love her very much, mom and dad love having her over and how much she loves Pablo."

"Oh, I'm sure she's a pleasure to be around." She says in this sarcastic tone. "I'm sure you love always hearing her talk."

"We do! Even tho sometimes I hear her more than I ever hear Pablo." Aurora jokes.

You got up, getting away from them. You went inside the house, picking your things and ordering an Uber. You don't want to be around people anymore.

"Hey, are you leaving?" Aurora asks, noticing you are walking away. Following you, trying to stop you.

"Go back to your friend Mikayla." You say, stern tone. "I'm leaving."

"Y/n, why are you mad?"

"Nothing Aurora, go back to your fucking friend. I'm sure you can tell her how fucking much I talk and both of you can have a laugh out of me."

You left angry, trying not to cry in the Uber. You felt like a nine year old after your family asked you to be quiet because you were giving them a headache.

You take a long hot and hot shower. Leaving the sand and the worries away. You eat something and watch your favorite movie.

Halfway through the movie, you heard a knock on the door. You roll your eyes, you are not in the mood for visitors.

You find a frowny Pablo on the other side of the door. You know Aurora told him about you leaving, he asked you what happened over text.

"We need to talk."

You walk back to the couch, not feeling like talking with him. "Please, not today." You whine.

"What's going on?" He asks, sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't want to talk."

"But why?" Hes worried, he holds your hands, caressing them with his thumbs. "Amor, I don't understand why you don't want to talk."

You feel your eyes watering, you hate feeling that way around him. He was your safe space, he was the person you feel more comfortable with.

"Because everyone makes fun of me for it." You confess.

He hugs you, letting you cry into his arms. He doesn't understand how people can do that to you when you are a sweetheart.

"Who is doing this?"

"Everyone, Pablo." You pout. "You friends, your aunt, and even your sister."

"My sister?" He asks, confused on why Aurora would do that.

You explained everything, how the comments of his aunt, Hector, how Fermin and Marc laughed, how this new girl made fun of you, and what Aurora said.

"And I just didn't want you to feel tired of me, I don't know."

He softens his expression, noticing how you are really concerned about him growing tired of you and leaving you.

You told him how you used to get these comments when you were little. How your mom and dad always asked you to shut up and to go away.

"Guapa, mirame." He sits next to you. "I love hearing you talk. I love how you tell me about your day, how you tell me about what you are doing in college, how you planned things, how was your trips, you hangings with your friend. I love you for you."

You smile, crying again while hugging him. It was the band-aid your heart needed.

"Te amo, and you would never bored me."

"Te amo, Pablo."

"Are you ready to yell at the referee in live?" You ask him, squishing his hand while laughing.

"I hope I don't have to." He jokes. "Menudo hijo de puta el anterior." (The last one was a son of a bitch)

You were with him on the corridor, the players getting ready for the game. You have the privilege to be able to go with him to all areas of the stadium.

"Wait for me here, I just have to go to the bathroom."

You sit on a bench that was in the corridor. Texting with your friends and updating them on what was happening at the stadium.

"Hey, Y/n."

You lift your head, finding Fermin and Hector there. They have their uniform on.

"Hey guys, good luck today!"

"Gracias, we wanted to talk to you before the game."

"Si, tell me." You smile, standing to talk with them. "Are you okay?"

"We are." Hector says. "I just wanted to say sorry about that one time when I joke about you talking too much, I didn't think it was that bad but now I know it was. Lo siento."

"And I'm sorry about laughing, it was mean of us yo do that, please forgive us."

You smile at them, knowing that Pablo was behind all of this. You can't help but feel thankful with him.

"It okay, no hard feelings." You hug them both. "Now go finish getting ready, you need to go out and score so much goals."

They say goodbye, and magically, Gavi appeared from a few seconds later from the same direction they left.

"You are such a sweetheart." You laugh, hugging him and kissing his lips. "Let's go to our seats, we need to cheer extra hard for your friends."

"Let's go, Guapa." He kisses your head. "Remember, after the game, we are going to my place. You still need to tell me about that presentation you have."

✨️✨️✨️

🏷: @gadriezmannsgirl hi 😝💕

[wheneverfeasible]

Because I’m terrible and the plots won’t leave me alone, I’ve now got an idea based on this post about a demon who feasts on pain and suffering being a medical practitioner for the chronically and terminally ill and the patients fully loving it. And then my brain rot had to say “make it Steddie” because I’ve lost all control of my life.

—

cw: terminal illness, minor and major character death (with a happy ending tho)

But imagine it. Eddie is a demon, a low ranking one at that originally. He gets a job at a medical facility for the chronically/terminally ill. Over time at the happy and consensual feasting he really does become one of the strongest demons because he’s constantly fed to the brim and he even has human worshippers, not that they’re traditional worshippers.

No, his followers are little old senior citizens who slip him butterscotch candies and other sweets they’re not supposed to have, which technically count as offerings. They thank him for his work, because he does actually take care of their bodies as well and even listens to their life stories, which count as praise and worship. They love and are devoted to him and they bring in their friends and family who are suffering too and Eddie’s accidental cult grows.

One day, things change. A young man, an anomaly in his youth, is brought in by parents who no longer wish to be burdened by their disabled son. Steve just shrugs it off and moves in with a smile, seemingly fine with being abandoned by his parents because he dared to be anything other than perfectly healthy.

He puts around the facility in his terry cloth robe and slippers on some days, others he dresses up in polos and slacks or even jeans when he’s feeling more casual, and always with a smile on his face. He makes those around him smile and laugh too, and his cheeks get pinched and he’s slipped candies too and he listens to others’ stories and he seems happy and content.

But Eddie feeds on his pain and suffering all the same, knows that behind that smile is a young boy who was told he probably wouldn’t live to see 30, who listens to the older folks knowing he would never get to live a life like that. Eddie knows that sometimes Steve cries himself to sleep at night.

Over time, Eddie and Steve grow closer. Steve hadn’t believed that Eddie was a demon at first, had thought it all just a joke, until one night Mr. Wozniak was laying in his bed, and Steve hadn’t meant to overhear, but he was passing by and the door was cracked open.

“Will I go to Hell now?” Mr. Wozniak was asking, but he seems peaceful all the same, like the thought wasn’t the terrifying ordeal so many people thought it was.

“No, sweetheart,” Eddie was saying, but his voice sounds a little off, huskier, like…like brimstone sat in his throat. “I’ve never claimed your soul. It’s still your own. Go find Irena. She’s been waiting for you for too long.”

Irena, Steve knew from speaking with Mr. Wozniak, was his young wife who had died decades earlier.

“Will I get to see you again?”

Eddie’s long fingers reach out, his nails long and sharp, dark in a way that was not nail polish. He lightly and gently strokes the papery skin of Mr. Wozniak’s cheek. “You will be at peace. You will find the afterlife is so much more than this Good-vs-Evil rhetoric so popular in this plane of existence. Go in peace, my child, and should you wish it, perhaps one day we might meet again.”

Mr. Wozniak smiles at that, and he closes his eyes with a softly whispered, “Irena, I’m coming…”

A moment later, he was gone.

Steve watches as Eddie seems to grow smaller, appear more normal, and though he knows he should be terrified, he isn’t. Instead he continues on his way, letting the knowledge of more percolate in his brain, though by the next morning when news of Mr. Wozniak’s passing spreads and Eddie assures everyone that he passed away peacefully and in no pain, Steve knows Eddie speaks the truth and he realizes that nothing has changed. Eddie is still Eddie.

They continue to grow closer. He spends more time with Eddie, lets Eddie in fully on how much he hurts, and tells the demon that he wished things had been different and that they could have met under better circumstances.

Eddie tells him that he never enjoyed the taste of regret. It was far too bitter.

They fall in love, encouraged by their friends in the facility new and old, who don’t seem to care that he is a mortal with a short life expectancy and Eddie is an immortal demon lord. What is all that in the face of true love?

And then it happens, and Steve is the one lying in bed, knowing his time has come. He smiles up at Eddie and decides not to regret any of it, not wanting their final moments to be flavored with bitterness.

“Stevie,” Eddie whispers mournfully, and he’s beautiful. It’s not his full true form, but his eyes are a dark blood red, his teeth elongated into sharp fangs, and his pale skin veined with reds and blacks. Horns curl out from his curly hair.

“You said once that I get to be with my loved ones after this,” Steve says, still smiling, and he reaches up to cup Eddie’s jaw with a weakened hand. Eddie nods against him, and Steve wonders if all demons can cry, or if it’s just his. “Then take my soul, darling. It already belongs to you.”

Eddie flinches back, like Steve knew he would, because souls are not little things. Eddie had explained before, after everything, that he didn’t even actually deal in souls, that that wasn’t the sort of demon he was. Steve had asked if he could, on a technicality, and Eddie had paused because saying yes, any demon could, but souls were priceless. When you gave one up to a demon, you gave up everything. You would be theirs until the end of days. Eddie had said he wasn’t that sort of demon.

“Baby, no,” Eddie breathes now, shaking his head gently enough not to dislodge Steve’s hand. “You would be—”

“Yours,” Steve interrupts. “But I already am. You already own my heart. I now willingly give you my soul. All you have to do is accept it.”

And Eddie protests, at first, because Steve is giving him complete control over him for eternity. Steve gives it freely with open arms, and in the end, Eddie can do nothing but accept it. He tells Steve that he doesn’t know if demons have souls or not, but his belongs to Steve just as assuredly as his own heart does.

Steve’s final mortal breath is gifted into Eddie’s crimson mouth, full of peace and love and the understanding that this thing between them will always beat eternal.

It turns out that, whether it was still unknown if all demons had souls, Eddie was the sort that does.

And it also turns out that, when you’re gifted a demon lord’s soul, you become a demon too.

Eddie’s cult ends soon after, disbanded into non-existence. In its place, however, rises a new one that worships not just one demon caretaker, but two as Eddie is soon joined by another with floppy brown hair and sparkling brown eyes that for once smiles without hidden pain. They take care of their charges, gently coax them into eternal rest when it’s their time, and together prove that true love is forever.

[thesassypadawan]

Big Boy (Master Anakin x PadawanFemReader)

Summary: After overhearing a conversation between you, his padawan, and your friends, Anakin is surprised by your declaration of wanting yourself a big boy. But you don’t want any big boy…you want your dear, 20 years older, master.

Warnings: 18+, because all the lovely smut. Size difference, age gap, and Ani’s big boy, pussy splitting dick. Padawan reader is of age.

Notes: I would love to know your thoughts, and I will be trying to post a fic for Ani every other Friday!

Inspired by SZA’s song Big Boy. I know it isn’t exactly the song’s definition of what a ‘big boy’ is, but, let’s face it, Ani is a big boy in his own respective way.

“Yeah, I’d love to have a big boy to ‘keep me warm’ for the colder months. I mean, I already know who I want to ask. It’s just…I’m not sure if he’d want me to be his winter-wife,” you admitted bashfully to your friends.

To say Anakin was shocked at what he overheard was a severe understatement. You, his sweet, innocent, little padawan wanted yourself a big boy. But not just any big boy…oh no, the thoughts you unknowingly shared between the bond revealed it all. You wanted him…in the worse way possible.

He was surprised, but not so at the same time. Surprised, because he was twenty years your senior…practically old enough to be your father. Not so, because he had caught some minor glances and feelings from you…he usually just chalked that up to his hopeful imagination. And, not to brag, because he did fit the description of a big boy quite well…what with his towering height and having packed on an extra healthy, all muscle, thirty pounds since his younger days.

He was also both happy and turned on by this news. But he wasn’t just going to sit there and wait patiently for you to build up the courage to ask. He would give you one week. If you failed to do so, then he would take matters into his own hands.

In the meantime though, Ani planned to have some ‘fun’ with you. After all, it was a master’s job to keep their padawan on their toes.

-------------------------------------------------------

He decided he was going to remind you how much of a big boy he really was. Starting out casually by grabbing things from the top shelf of the kitchenette for you, because ‘they were never that high up before’. To letting you borrow his oversized cloak, since yours ‘mysteriously disappeared’. And then slouching down to your height, acting like he ‘couldn’t hear you from way up there’.

Which progressed to not so subtly doing so. Taking your smaller hand into his larger one, so he wouldn’t ‘lose a tiny thing like you in such a huge crowd’. And getting on his knee to fix your braid, since it was ‘just easier to get on your level’. He made sure to flash you that dazzling smile after, ‘there you go, little one’, and kissed you on the nose.

And finally becoming outright blatant. Tossing you effortlessly over his broad shoulder, due to you ‘not being able to keep up with your short legs’. Coming up from behind and completely engulfing your entire form in his strong arms. Thanking you for ‘the delicious meal you made’ and telling you how lucky he is ‘to have a sweet, little padawan like you’. He even went as far as pulling you on top of him to watch a holomovie. The reason being that his long legs took up the whole couch and you deserved to have ‘a comfortable spot to sit too’…with his hard, fat cock pressing firmly against your ass the whole time.

Anakin really thought that would be the turning point, but you still didn’t ask. Instead, you said a small ‘goodnight, master’ and, like always, escaped to the privacy of your own room. Which was frustrating, but not all that bad. After all, he still got to enjoy all your delightful thoughts as you took pleasure from yourself. Thoughts that were not only tantalizing, but also inspiring.

Throwing out his original plan on how to finally confront you, he stealthily approached your door. Listening and feeling for the right moment…that came when a soft ‘master’ passed your lips and the image of you struggling to take three fingers, pretending it was his thick dick, into your tiny pussy.

Tinkering with the keypad, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. The smell of your perfume and arousal hanging heavy in the air.

You squeaked in shock and scrambled to cover your naked body. “Master, it’s not what it looks like!”

With a wicked grin, he began to strip. “What it looks like, padawan of mine, is that you’re in need a big boy…badly.”

Ani took great satisfaction in the way your jaw dropped as you gazed upon his absolute massive…everything. He twitched in anticipation of how he was going to split you in half.

He watched as you bit your lip, your hand boldly sliding down to rub your clit. Fingers dipping into your folds to gather wetness, wetness that he proudly knew was all because of him.

Crawling onto the bed with you, he spread your legs open. Dipping his head between your thighs; he inhaled deeply, making you whine pitifully.

“Let me take care of you,” he growled. Peeking up at you as his long tongue slithered between your folds. Lazily licking up and down, nipping at your clit teasingly.

You cried out as he sped up and he chuckled lowly. “You like that don’t you, angel.” His hand tightening on your thighs, your hips bucking. “You love the way my big, booming voice rumbles through you; straight to your aching core.”

A whimper flew from your mouth. “Please!” You begged, squirming in anticipation. “Please, I want you inside of me!”

Pulling back, he shifted. His hips pressed firmly to yours, his cock rubbing against your stomach to emphasize his large size. “Sure about that? Think you can handle all of me?”

You reached down to stroke him, running his tip through your folds. “Please, master, I need you.” And then lined him up with your soaking entrance.

Anakin pushed forward softly. “All right, then this is where the fun begins,” he said smugly, shoving his length all the way in.

A small cry escaped you as he felt your tight cunt stretch, desperately trying to accommodate him. With his enormous hands, he gently guided you along. Slowly inching back and forth…trying to help you adjust.

“You okay if I move, little one?” He whispered sweetly to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You nodded at his words, giving him a shy smile.

“That’s, my girl.” He pulled back just a bit before thrusting back forward. His hips beginning to speed up, bouncing your body with each movement. Your eyes sliding shut, face contorting in pleasure.

“Hey, look at me,” he muttered huskily. “Want you to see how well you’re taking my cock. So tight around me, my little wifey.”

He could feel your walls flutter in response to his words, your eyes opening wide. “That’s right, you’re my little winter-wifey,” he grunted. “Going to be your big boy and ‘keep you warm’ during these colder months.”

Ani hiked your thighs up onto his hips. Pumping into you deeper. Bullying your cervix. Making a small bulge appear in your stomach.

Factors that had you mewling, helplessly clinging to his bulging arms. “Master! So close, master!”

“Me too,” he panted. His grip tightening, thrusts growing faster, heavy balls slapping hard against your ass. “So be my good little wifey and cum with me.”

Slamming his hips flushed against yours, he somehow pushed himself even deeper inside. Groaning as you screamed out his name, your walls clamping down on his cock. Hungerly milking him, while he shot rope after rope of hot cum into your tiny pussy. Pumping you so impossibly full.

Pulling out gently, Anakin collapsed on the bed beside you; his arms lovingly wrapping around you. “You know, I meant everything I said. Except…”

“Except, what?” You hesitantly asked him, your eyes filled with worry.

“It’s nothing terrible,” he reassured, stroking your back. “Unless you don’t want to be more than just my winter-wife.”

You turned bright red and buried your face in his chest. “Yes,” you replied bashfully. “As long as you don’t mind always being my big boy.”

Ani placed a kiss on the top of your head. “Of course, I would love to, my little wifey. All you had to do was ask.”

[azzifudd]

we just sort of get each other

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: insp by an article an anon sent me that said paige was with azzi the whole day before her senior prom

rated: teen

1.3k words

disclaimer: many made up events obviously

Paige sits on the couch, leg propped up on a pillow, hands fidgeting with her phone. She opens Tiktok for a moment, but closes it after a few quick swipes, jiggling her healthy leg as she waits for Azzi to emerge from her bedroom.

She had been in there about an hour earlier, watching as the makeup artist worked on Azzi’s face. In her opinion, Azzi didn’t even need all that, but she had been clearly enjoying the full day of pampering. 

But when the makeup artist had complained for the third time that Azzi would not stop laughing at Paige’s antics, Katie had sent Paige out and shut the door behind her. 

Jose and Jon are playing Mario Kart, pushing at each other as their characters race around the track. 

“You wanna play, Paige?” Jose holds out one of the spare controllers to her.

“Nah, man, I’m good.” She stands up, grabbing her crutches and limping into the kitchen to grab a drink. She’s walking back into the living room when Azzi’s door finally opens. 

Paige turns eagerly at the sound of heels on the wooden floor and drops her bottle of Gatorade at the sight that greets her. 

The bottle thunks heavily against the floor. 

Azzi smiles shyly at her, one dimple peeking out. 

“How do I look?” 

Azzi looks…

Paige has no words. Paige has a million words. She can’t seem to pick her jaw up from where it has hit the floor. 

Paige is nearly breathless as she runs her eyes up and down Azzi’s body. 

She’s wearing a floor length dress, a silver shimmery thing with pink and blue tones throughout it that bares the skin of her chest and arms. A slit runs up one leg, exposing what appears to be miles of tan skin and toned muscle. 

Paige clears her throat, hoping she isn’t blushing as hard as it seems as her cheeks heat up. 

“You look..” She hesitates, unsure if anything she says can even measure up to the emotions that swell in her chest as she looks at Azzi. 

She’s saved from speaking as Azzi’s parents round the corner. Tim has his phone in outstretched hand as he approaches.

“Baby, you look amazing!” He snaps a few photos as Azzi poses. 

Paige stands back and watches as Azzi’s parents direct her in an impromptu photoshoot. Soon her little brothers are roped in to take photos with her, and before she knows it, Tim is gesturing for Paige to stand beside Azzi. 

“Aw, no I don’t want my crummy outfit to make her look bad.” She’s in a wrinkled AZ35 t-shirt and a pair of Nike pants, boot heavy around her ankle. At least she brushed her hair earlier instead of just throwing it into a messy ponytail. 

“Paige, please?” Azzi holds out a hand. 

Paige is at her left side before she even realizes it, hand wrapping around her waist as Azzi leans into her. 

Soon, Azzi has to leave to go take photos with her date James at the National Mall. The family all load into the car, but Paige stays behind because it’s a little too much walking for her ankle. 

But before Azzi can head out, Paige grabs her hand, holding her back until they’re alone in the house. Paige leans her crutches against the wall, and grasps Azzi by the hips, pulling her until their foreheads touch. 

“I wish I was the one taking you.” Paige says, her voice a whisper against Azzi’s lips. For a moment, Paige wishes things were different, that she was just a normal girl who got to take the girl she liked to prom. 

But if she was just a normal girl, she never would have met Azzi, and that’s not a world that Paige can bear to imagine.

“You look beautiful.” 

Azzi’s responding kiss feels like a ‘thank you’ and an ‘I’m sorry' all at once. They are interrupted by a loud honk from outside and Jon’s voice yelling for Azzi to hurry up. Paige’s lips are sticky with gloss. 

“Have the best night,” Paige says, and then Azzi’s out the door. 

***

Azzi has a good night. She does. She spends the night dancing and talking with friends and just having a normal high school experience, something that has become more and more rare as her high school career has developed. The pandemic had ruined so much of what she had hoped would be a perfect senior year, so she is grateful that prom at least has gone off without a hitch.

But as the night wears on, she can’t help but think of what was missing. James is handsome and charming; a dream prom date for so many girls. But he isn’t who Azzi wants. She wants the annoying, sweet, beautiful girl who is waiting for her at home. 

Surprisingly, none of her friends question her when she tells them she will be heading straight home after the dance, rather than hitting up the after party that nearly everyone else is going to. 

When she gets home, she finds her family finishing up a movie in the living room. Strangely, Paige is nowhere to be found. 

“Did you have a good night, honey?” 

“Yeah, it was a lot of fun.” She doesn’t elaborate. “Where’s Paige? Did she go back to her dad’s?” 

Her mom looks unsurprised at her question, smiling as she tilts her head toward their basement door. “She’s downstairs, waiting for you. Don’t change out of your dress yet.”

Azzi is a bit confused, but she heads downstairs anyway. She takes her time going down the stairs in her heels, watching her feet, and as she hits the last step, she realizes there is soft music playing. She looks up and finds the room lit only by what seems like dozens of candles interspersed throughout the room.

All the furniture has been pushed to the edges of the room, and standing at the center of the room is Paige. She is wearing a button up that looks just a bit too tight around her shoulders and a pair of black pants. A baby blue tie is loose around her neck, and Azzi knows when she gets close enough that she’ll be able to see how it brings out the color in Paige’s eyes. 

“I know it’s not the same as if we’d gotten to go together, but I got us these. 

When she gets within arms reach, Azzi notices that Paige is holding a plastic box. She pops it open to reveal a beautiful corsage, pink and vibrant with a matching boutonniere. 

Azzi can’t stop herself from reaching out to hold Paige’s face in her hands and kissing her. Paige smiles against her lips.

“You like it?” She asks, laughing when Azzi nods and kisses her again.

With gentle hands, Paige slides the flower onto Azzi’s wrist and she stands still as Azzi returns the favor, pinning hers to her chest with shaky fingers. 

“Can I have this dance?” Paige loops her arms around Azzi’s waist, pulling her even closer.

“Will your ankle be okay?” Azzi asks, bringing her arms up around Paige’s shoulders. 

“Yeah,” Paige shrugs. “I asked during PT this morning, and they said swaying was okay.” 

“Then let’s sway.” Azzi giggles, pressing their foreheads together as they move gently to the music. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” 

“Mmhm.” Azzi nods. “I missed you though. I always miss you.” 

“Just a few more months and we’ll be together all the time.” 

“You won’t get tired of me?” Azzi scratches at the back of Paige’s neck, smiling as Paige’s eyes flutter and she leans into the touch. 

“Never.” Paige makes sure to look Azzi right in the eyes, her own piercing and honest. 

Azzi twists a hand into Paige’s tie, pulls her in, and kisses her and kisses her. 

[i-will-cry-you-a-river]

Yandere Bingyuan in this house? It's more likely than you think!

Luo Binghe would like to say that he was perfectly normal, thank you very much. He was sooo normal about everything; he breathed the polluted air in Beijing just like everybody else. He worked tirelessly, like the good, normal nurse he was, just like any other good healthcare workers did. He cooked for himself, and ate whenever he had time, just like other workaholics did. His heart beat, pumping his blood everywhere in his body, his muscles carried him to places, his brain focused on the important things. He was just like anybody else.

No matter what Mobei-jun thought, or how he judged him with those icy eyes.

He, Luo Binghe, was just a normal person, with normal hobbies and normal feelings.

Feelings that bloomed so unexpectedly, so gradually that he wasn't prepared for them, but… well. Nobody could ever be prepared for Shen Yuan. He was just so bright and kind, so full of life and opinions! It started as nothing but a subtle curiosity towards the patient the other nurses just called “The Regular”. It was nothing serious - until it was, within the first two minutes of their meeting.

He was immediately charmed by the kind, cute little chronically ill patient, seven years his senior. He was just so- there was something about him that attracted Luo Binghe like a moth to a flame. His movements, his gestures were always so graceful, his smiles so kind, and his headpats addictive. Luo Binghe had been immediately hooked.

It was quite easy to befriend with his ‘Yuan-ge’, as Shen Yuan agreed to be called. He spend as much time as he could while he was in hospital, and when he was discharged, they kept up their friendship. It was nice to help out. It was nice to be needed. A freshly baked breakfast here, a careful hand to take care of a new injury there…

It was nice.

It was nowhere near enough.

Luo Binghe didn't just want to be needed. He wanted to be the only person Shen Yuan had; the only person who could care for him, who could see him, who could speak to him. It was even easier to become Shen Yuan’s personal nurse. First, at the hospital, then, when he insisted it would be better for Shen Yuan's mental health to stay home with a live-in nurse, at home.

He never really had a place to call home. Shen Yuan's place quickly became that.

Within a day, they fell into an easy routine, as if they were an old married couple.

Every morning, Luo Binghe would wake up an hour early than Shen Yuan to make him a healthy breakfast and make sure that everything was spotless and perfect for his little patient. Then, after waking up, he would check his vitals, measure the blood pressure, examine if everything worked just like they should, if everything reacted perfectly to each stimulus. (They always did. Those perfect little cherry blossom colored nipples were always so hard within seconds. The skin under his hands also became a lovely red color after a little bit of pressure. Luo Binghe adored how reactive his patient's body was.)

Then, breakfast together, some work next to each other on the couch, lunch and a movie or just reading next to each other. Everything was so domestic.

Especially bath time.

Shen Yuan couldn't bathe alone because of his dizzy spells, so Luo Binghe spent each one of his nights barely holding himself together while carefully washing Shen Yuan's back with his Legend of Zelda sponge. It was maddening!

How lovely Shen Yuan was. How trusting and perfect… It made Luo Binghe want to consume him. To own him. To have him at his utter mercy.

And soon, it was time to get him completely.

Except.

Huh.

Luo Binghe stared blankly at the wall of the wardrobe he never really had to touch before. It seemed it had a reason why Shen Yuan never used it when Luo Binghe was in his room. The wardrobe…

“Surprised?” Came the amused voice behind him. He didn't turn around. His eyes were locked on the wardrobe that was basically a shrine dedicated to him.

Walls adorned with pictures of him (was that his graduation ceremony?), soft sketches detailed every inch of his body, similarly thick journals as he had at his apartment about Yuan-ge filled with notes about his preferences, friends, likes and dislikes, and his movements.

Luo Binghe stared in disbelief-

-and relief.

“You were so cute when you tried so hard to become my private nurse. As if I didn't already plan that even before you received the job offer from the director,” Yuan-ge said with a knowing smile on his lips. His presence was intoxicating.

“The job offer? Wait, so… it was you? You planned this? You… knew?” Luo Binghe stammered, staring at Shen Yuan with stars in his eyes.

His Yuan-ge stepped closer, his gaze never leaving Luo Binghe's eyes. “I planned everything,” he admitted, his smile widening. It should have been chilling.

It was fucking addictive.

“You weren't the only one watching. Or manipulating. People tend to overlook me because of my illness, so it makes everything so much easier. Like making sure you could graduate even if you almost went on a blind date who was unfortunately the brother of the vice dean, who hated your guts and was looking for the tiniest reason to get you out of the program.”

Luo Binghe was speechless. The thought of Shen Jiu always made his blood boil, and he tried so hard to forget that pathetic man's existence, but.

Oh, wow.

To think that all this time they could have been together…

He wondered if Shen Yuan would mourn his brother if he would be notified of his unfortunate passing.

“No murder in my family. It was enough to make all the clues disappear after your cousin's death. You are quite a messy puppy, aren't you?”

Luo Binghe felt the world tilt, his carefully constructed reality fracturing. “You… Yuan-ge…” His eyes stung by the withheld tears. “Why?”

“Because,” Shen Yuan said, reaching out to pat Luo Binghe's bouncy curls on the top of his head. “We are the same, the two sides of the same coin. Because your obsession matches mine, your mental illness fits mine perfectly. Because you are cute, because I want to ravish you and own you and be ravished by you and be owned by you. Because we belong together.”

It felt true. It felt right.

It felt exhilarating that the one person he'd ever wanted was just like him. They were one soul stuck in two bodies.

He thought it was enough to just own Shen Yuan, to have him at his mercy. But this? This was so much better!

Taking Shen Yuan's hand, he laced their fingers together. “You are so perfect, Yuan-ge,” he said, his voice a mix of awe and reverence.

“We are perfect, for each other,” Shen Yuan corrected, his eyes gleaming with the same maniacal intensity that mirrored Luo Binghe's. The smaller man grinned wolfishly, and pulled Luo Binghe closer, their bodies flushing together as they both wanted for so long.

“Now kiss me, puppy!” Yuan-ge ordered, and Luo Binghe had never been more eager to comply.

[cherryswisherz]

KARMIC BALANCE ✷ CHAPTER III

✷WARNINGS cursing, pining??? idk. mention of the nd game and h*annah h*dalgo

✷NIYAH SPEAKS aye we back! this one is just paiges pob

✦✦✦✦

SENIOR YEAR

We lose to Notre Dame every year. 

Every. Fucking. Year. 

And now that I’m home in Storrs, looking at everyone as they try to mask their disappointment, I feel the loss even more. 

Which is why I’m walking around in the middle of night, the December air biting into my skin. I can’t stop thinking about everything that went wrong. Why everything went wrong. 

I honestly have no fucking clue why, but I know what went wrong. Everyone does. Our defense was lousy, our shots were horrible, we got too tired. I could go on, but that won’t fix anything. 

I find myself at Xavi and Janes house before I realize it. I tell myself that it’s because Yanna’s there, and not because of the wisdom that Xavia seems to have about every aspect of life. 

When Xavia opens the door wearing a smile and a moo moo, I ignore that bubly feeling in my chest and ask to come in. 

Once inside, I see her apartment is almost completely dark. The big lights are off, the living room being lit only by a candle and two lamps in opposite corners. 

“So, what’s up P?” Xavi asks, running her hands down the silk of her moo moo. “It’s almost midnight and you’re usually dead to the world by 9.”

Knowing that Xavia knows my bedtime makes me smile for reasons I don’t want to admit. 

When I first met her, Xavia was like a mystery. She was funny and smart and absolutely fucking beautiful. She’d apologized for making a false assumption about me. It was the first and only time anyone had ever done that and I never forgot it. 

When she and Jane started coming around more, I forced myself to swallow the want I had to learn more about her, to learn from her because I knew that if I’d gotten to the root of who she was, I’d be even more enthralled than I already was at that point. 

Eventually my heart stopped beating so fast around her. I’d stopped avoiding being within 3 feet of her and trained myself to treat her like I’d treated all my other friends. 

Because that’s what she is. My friend. 

It didn’t matter that her not worshipping ground I walked on excited me. It didn’t matter that almost every conversation we had alone rested in the back of my mind at all times. 

Xavia is my friend and that’s all she’d ever be. 

“Yeah I know. I just can’t get the ND game outta my head and I thought Yanna would be here to talk to.”

I’m lying and I know it. Whether Yanna was here or not, I would have found a way to talk to Xavi. I always did. Not because I wanted to be around her, but because she always had the answer to whatever problem that I have. Anyone would do the same if they’d stopped to pay attention when she was trying to get a word in. 

“Oh, yeah, she’s not here.” Xavi pointed a thumb to the back of her house, where Her and Jane’d bedroom’s were. Her locs swayed with the turn of her head. “Her and Jane went to Urgent Care cause she hit her shoulder on the wall and-” She waves her hands anxiously, as if she doesn’t feel like explaining a complex situation. “It was a whole thing. I’m sure you’ll hear about it tomorrow.”

I know I should be worried about my teammate who can’t seem to stay healthy. And I am. I make a mental note to check in on Yanna at some point, but right now, I’m thinking of a way I can stay and talk to Xavi without making it a thing.

“Oh…” is what I came up with. 

“You can talk to me?” Thank. God. “ If you want.”

Of course I fucking want. It’s all I’ve done for the past three years. 

I want to be a better person. 

I want to be 19 again and do everything differently. 

I want to win the championship this year. 

But all those wants are null and void for the biggest want of all. 

I want to get drafted to the WNBA.

And I’ve made  too many shitty decisions to get there to just throw it all away. So what if I’m miserable?

“Uh, yeah. That’s cool.” I play off my desperation and take a seat on her orange bean bag. 

Xavi plops down on the couch in front of me, crossing her legs and folding her hands. All her attention is on me and a part of me feels like I don’t deserve the attention of this amazing woman. But a bigger part is screaming that this is how it should be. 

Me, admiring every part of her, and her, willing and ready for anything I give her. 

Of course, in this situation all she wants is to know what’s on my mind, but I would give her whatever else she could think up. 

“So whatcha thinkin ‘bout?”  She asks sweetly. 

Her voice isn’t obnoxiously high. It’s kinda deep and mellow, just like she is.

“Um… I just can’t get over everything.” I shake my head and look at my hands. Hands that are supposed to get me everywhere I want in life.  “Like, I get why we lost. What we did wrong on the basketball front. But we were off the other day. We’d run those plays over and over again in practice. Studied film. We should have been prepared, but we were just off.  Like no matter how hard we tried, we just couldn’t get there.”

Xavia nods her head like she understands everything I’m saying. 

“Like everything was against you guys?” she questions. 

“No. I don’t think that anything was unfair. I think that our all just wasn’t enough.”

“Well, I know you can’t speak for anyone else, and I’d never ask you to. But why do you think you were off that night?”

She sounds like a therapist. The kind that isn’t just trying to fix you, but trying to understand you. The kind that hangs on to every word, but not to hold it against you.

“I don’t know. I just kept getting madder and madder and it threw me off. I did everything I was supposed to do.”

She looks confused now. “What do you mean ‘supposed to do’?”

“Like everything I thought was right. Everything I've always done.”

“Maybe that’s the issue.” 

Now I’m confused. 

“What?”

Following my routine has taken me and my team to the Final Four, and for Xavi to tell me it’s wrong stings a little. 

“Maybe doing everything you’ve always done isn’t the answer. Paige, you’re a somewhat mature adult. Do you honestly think you’re right all the time?”

What does she mean ‘somewhat’ mature? 

“...No?”

“Right.” Xavi sounds so sure of herself, leaning in and starting to talk with her hands like she does when she’s talking about her coursework or something equally as interesting to her. “It’s impossible to be right in every situation because every situation is different. When you throughout your daily life, do you treat every person the same? Do you go into every conversation with the same mindset, expecting the same outcome?”

I mean most people are the same, so what else am I supposed to do?

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Well that’s no bueno, babe.” She huffs out, pointing at me. Then, she entrances me again with her hands as she speaks. “ Every human is different. They have different pasts, and different views. Even if the difference between one person and another is miniscule, it’s there. And that difference is why it’s so important that we don’t generalize people.”

I know she’s stopped talking but I’m so caught up in her voice, and her hands and her face, and her to contribute to the conversation.

“Are you understanding?” She asks, seemingly genuinely concern with whether I’m comprehending what she’s telling me. 

And the answer is no, I’m not understanding. Whether there’s a differenc eor not, each person want the same thing and should be dealt with the same, based on what they want. 

This is the code fucking live by,a nd she’s sitting her debunking it in the most intellectual, attractive way possible.

“Not really.”

“Okay so like…” She sighs, pauses to think and then continues. “Do you remember when we first met? When I assumed you were a whore like alot of college athletes are?”

The reminder of our first interaction brings a calmness to me. I remember everything abou that night in her dorm. She wore sweats with no bra, and I’m pretty sure she was stoned.

“Yeah of course. You apologized to me that night and it kinda weirded me out.”

“Right.” Xavia snapped her fingers, bringing me out of my memory. “I apologized to you, because I generalized you and made an assumption based on one aspect of your identity. And I think it weirded you out because you’d generalized every person who’d made an assumption about you. I guess it’s rare that people apologize after being an asshole to you.”

It was rare. So rare that she’s the only person who’d ever done it.

“Okay…”

“So. Incourpurating that into basketball. Every team is different.”

I nod my head to let her know I was following. “Of course.”

“Okay and so every player on every team is different too.”

She lost me.

“No.” Now I’m the one leaning forward, talking with my hands. “They all move as a team. Yes, they have differences, but they’re all working together.”

“I see it differently.” She shrugs like she’s the master of basketball and done copious amounts of research on the psyche of an athlet.  “I feel like every player on that court moves individually. Do they play for the same team, and have the same goal? Of course. But they’re all different. They all have different thoughts and concerns and ideas. You said that girl Hannah was the head of the snake, but I think you should see it differently.”

“How so?”

“Instead of thinking of a team as one snake, think of it like… Like cheetahs!”

“Cheetahs?”

“Cheetahs.” She finalizes. “Once the mama cheetah gives birth, she trains her cubs to survive in any situation. To adapt to any surroundings. She teaches her cubs how to kill different animals, to hide, all that. Eventually, the cubs form a sibling group and go out together to execute everything their mother has taught them. Are you getting the analogy?”

When she’s explaining it in laymans terms, of course I get it. She could probably explain thermodynamics to me and I’d understand it fully. Xavia just has a way of making everything in life seem so simple. It’s wonderful, really.

“Yeah. Like the coach is the mother, the players are the cubs.”

“Right. But each cub is different. There’s a more dominant one, there’s submissives and then theirs the runts. Each one has to edit their mothers lessons to make it useful to them individually. Does that make sense?”

I’ve decided that she’s blown my mind enough for tonight, once again by being right about everything. So I just chuckle and dismiss the topic.

“How do you come up with this shit, Xavi?”

She laughs like a seductress and leans back on the couch, “I dunno. I read alot.”

You read alot? Reading alot has given you the ability to break down a sport like you’ve played it your whole life?

“Well thank you for sharing your knowledge with my dumbass, oh wise one.”

I stand up from the beanbag and make my way to the door, ready to take my exit.

“I’m not wise, I just see from a different point of view than you. Sometimes you gotta get outta your head.”

“I guess.” I sigh, then open my arms. “Thanks, Xavi.” 

She steps into me, her head just below my chest and wraps her arms around me. Her body is warm, but the silk she’s wearing cold. She doesn’t hug me tight or aggressively. Just stands there with her arms around my waist. 

It feels terrifyingly comfortable. 

“Anytime P.” she mutters, pulling away and ushering me out of her home. 

The whole walk back, my mind is on her and everything she said. 

How is it that this girl that is the exact opposite of everything I’m looking for, seems to be everything I need?

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Rigor Mortis (part 9)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 8, Part 10

summary: You both come to a realisation.

warnings: smut! f! masturbation, grinding, humping, fingering, (implied) recreational drug use, alcohol, dubcon (-ish! reader is drunk but the interaction is consensual, tagging just in case xx), teeny tiny bit of mutual pining. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: yuhh

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 7.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

all that light lost in gaps

You're gone, in the morning.

…he should've expected it. Miguel stumbles out of sleep, groggy and disoriented. He finds himself reaching out for something in the half-light. 

He finds himself reaching for you. And when you're not there, leaving a person sized gap at the crook of his arm, his stomach churns. He pretends it's not disappointment, or the sharp crack of yearning ; settling at his chest like a crowbar, and prying open his ribs. It's worry, he decides resolutely, a perfectly normal, healthy amount of worry. As your roommate; and nothing else, he keeps reminding himself; he's just worried about where you've rushed off to, especially after yesterday. 

Senior year. He was assigned a bullshit paper in a Civics class – one he'd usually half-ass for an easy A. He'd wax poetic about morality – amorphous, vague platitudes about duty and societal expectations. By the end of the year, he had it down to a science: a couple thousand words remixed and plucked from lesser known philosophers, videos online, and overdue library books. Either he was getting too good at it, or his teacher was too stupid to notice; but regardless, he coasted through the class right up until graduation. His last paper, and he remembers it distinctly, was on the book of the same name; aptly titled What We Owe Each Other. A plodding, pluralistic read; of which he had only scanned through, anyways. Extra credit, anything to graduate early, and he'd had more than enough on his plate at the time. 

 And so, he wasn't expecting the B+ underlined and circled in red ink on the front page. It felt like his teacher had handed it back to him face down, slammed onto the desk like the thunderous crack of a whip. And he didn't need that A, strictly speaking. Yet, he had found himself staying over after class, crinkling that piece of paper in hand as he'd asked why. 

She sighs. Miss Hunter's glasses slip down her nose, as they are prone to do. 

"You're an outstanding student. I hear you're graduating early, and you're off somewhere prestigious in the fall. This is… definitely not a bad grade, and it's nothing, I promise you."

It doesn't work like that, for him. His teacher doesn't get it, but it will eat him up inside-out if he's not able to understand. 

"Was it my referencing?" He fumbles with the strap of his bag. 

"No. Not at all–" 

"I did the extra reading…the article you mentioned in class, and–" 

He's cut off by the scrape of a desk chair. Miss Hunter gets up to close the door, before settling on her desk. 

Arms crossed, she seems tired. Worried, maybe, but it doesn't register with Miguel. The thought doesn't even cross his mind, that there are others with the capacity to worry about him. 

"Technically, it's well written. As usual, Miguel." She gives him a weak smile. "It just… lacked heart."

His brows jump up. "...heart?" 

"There's not really a narrative voice, here."

He taps at the paper on the desk, frustrated. "You didn't ask for a narrative voice, though. You didn't ask for… for heart. I read the book, I did the extra reading, and I wrote a report. That was the brief."

"Not quite." She says it gently, but it still sounds like nails on a chalkboard to him. "The brief was vague, intentionally so. 'What Do We Owe Each Other? Discuss.' I gave examples, sure: excerpts from the book we touched on in class, articles, academic papers, etcetera. They were… suggestions."

"...suggestions." He's incredulous. 

She nods. "You followed it to the letter, Miguel. You gave me a summary, with a few key links. Fully referenced, yes. Well-written, yes. But this feels like a sum of parts. It doesn't tell me anything about you; your perspective, your angle. Your voice."

He's biting back choice words. It sounds like bullshit to him, for lack of a better word. Flowery, hoity-toity BS; served up to him on a steaming platter. That's it? 

Maybe it shows on his face, because she's asking, as delicately as possible, 

"Is everything okay?" 

Instinctually, he seizes up. 

"Yeah. Yes. I'm good."

"I know you don't take this class as seriously because it's not an AP, or an elective, or maybe not as challenging as you need it to be. And that's okay, Miguel. I'm happy for you to use my class as a break from all the other stuff." She swallows thickly. "You're not from our usual feeder schools. The Academy is particularly rigorous. But considering your… situation, we can make exceptions. If there's anything I can do–" 

"There isn't a 'situation'."

"Right. Of course, I'm sorry. But if you need a couple days off of school because of…" She pasues, saying the next part softly. "Because of the baby… I mean, you're already acing my class–"

"No." He says it firmly, eyes trained onto the wood grain peeking out from underneath piles of documents. He wants to ask how she knows, and how he's always the last to find out that rumours have spread, and–

"Miguel." Her voice cuts through dense fog. She repeats her previous statement. “If there's anything I can do–”

“If you want to help, you can give me that A.” It's bone dry, said with the kind of sarcasm he's grown accustomed to. He wears it over his shoulders, sometimes; draped to keep out biting cold, or unfamiliar warmth from a stranger - it all feels the same, now.

She gives him a rueful smile. “Need more than that, m'afraid.”

Heart. Voice. What We Owe Each Other – and he doesn't know why that phrase sticks in his throat. It's been drilled into him since childhood; family and community, helping each other out of the starting blocks; and beaten out of him during adolescence. The creaking and cracking of bones after each step, where out in the world it's a different matter entirely. 

His mama has bad taste in men, and he finds himself picking up the pieces. Gabi is more sensitive than he'll ever admit, trying not to cry amongst broken plates and chicken-wire hidden in a bouquet of peonies: prickly words that cut and hack, and it's Miguel that wipes the tears from his brother's cheek. That devastatingly gentle sigh when he had told his mama what he had done - how he had fallen for a soft bed and even softer lips at the ripe age of 16 and a half - and Miguel carries that weight. What We Owe Each Other – and he's only ever fed entitled egos. Not his family, of course, but he's been burned. He's had more than his fair share of it. 

He doesn't owe the world shit, he thinks. 

He doesn't owe you shit. 

It doesn't help that he's been stuck in place, grasping at cushion covers and a raggedy blanket. Trying not to drown in the heady scent of you, he's been dragging thick fingers over the fabric as if in a trance. You don't owe him anything, either. Nary an apology, an explanation; so much as a sorry spilling from pretty lips in that way where they quiver like a gentle flame. 

He's touched them, felt them drag across his skin like the finest silk, and dropped to his knees in search of something you've never given him. It doesn't matter if you don't; kiss him , that is; the swirling, desperate sort that leaves him heaving and creaking and begging for more. He thinks he'd still scuff up the denim at his knees if you asked, regardless - he'd do anything , if it was for you. 

It's not realistic to expect anything from you. You don't need to tell him where you've gone or why you've left so early. You don't need to, and yet he finds himself reaching for his phone. 

Miguel sends a well placed message; deft fingers tapping away at the screen. Before he changes his mind, it's sent; and he's chewing his lip whilst waiting for a steady three dots. Lyla is slower than usual, but she comes through. She doesn't ask questions - because she knows him better than he knows himself - and gives him a thumbs up. 

They'll call each other later, that much he's sure of, but for now he reads between the lines. Short bursts of text, like firecrackers flashing across a night sky, and only through nonsensical emojis and odd slang can they understand each other. 

This part, he can do. And he'll do whatever he needs to, not what he owes.

~~~

You make it to Pam's just after it opens. 

At 7 o'clock sharp, you've made the journey; in an empty subway car, spilling out onto the streets like treacle left in the neck of a bottle. It's not quite a squeeze, passing by only a handful of people, with nothing but a jacket thrown over last night's clothes. In a daze, you realise too late: it's Miguel's. A dusty, worn thing; brown leather crackling at the sleeves and heavy on your shoulders. It feels like a hug, and it feels like him : warm and stiff. It smells like him too, and you bury your nose in the collar on the subway, sleeves kissing your palm like his hand is in yours. 

It's a feeling that takes you all the way to the doors: past the slats bolted shut and down a familiar alley. You push past them, sneakers on slick tiles, and give a weak smile to the woman that perks up from behind the counter, kicking away the mop and bucket. 

"Hiya, welcome to Pam's! How can I–" 

"Oh, God , no." You wave her off. "Take your time. I need a minute, if that's okay."

Settling on the barstool, you watch as the young woman smiles, picking up a rag and wiping at the counter. You sit in it, for a while. 

Dregs drip in through the front. The bell at the top of the door chimes, tinny and cheerful in the relative gloom of a quiet morning. 

It's cold , outside. Autumn, biting at your fingers and nose. Eventually you opt for a coffee, piping hot to stave off that chill. Bitter, the aftertaste lingers at the back of your throat. You find yourself picking at the chipped mug, chasing away that taste with fluffy pancakes. The combination doesn't feel quite the same – not after many a morning with your roommate. 

You settle into the seat. You wrap that old jacket around you. You sip at tart coffee and pick at your nails. A quiet morning, one to yourself, one to keep hidden at the crook of your chest. Some semblance of peace , wrapped up in the spindles of a dandelion. That is to say; delicate and fleeting, whipped away by the breeze. 

You've decided not to think too hard about it. That kind of thinking ends dangerously, you've realised: with long, hot nights spent tossing and turning. It ends with a head full of cotton, and a pounding at your chest. With blood, with tears, with a stranger in your bed. And so, you go for the cleaner option. The safer one, all things considered, that's less likely to end in a broken heart. 

You float around for a while. Walking without a real destination, trying to ground yourself. Eventually, you end up home,  opening the door to an empty apartment. There's no traces left of a night spent in Miguel's arms. Good, you think, slipping your shoes off at the door. It doesn't feel good , but if you say it enough times you just might believe it. 

The cleaner option; the one with less gristle and bone; is a familiar one. You settle into a shower; steamy and soapy, taking your time to clean out the blood from under your fingernails. The grime, the dirt ; you watch it swirl into the drain, hands running across soft flesh. You try to do it like Jamie did, once upon a time. It doesn't feel right, and has you leaning onto the cool tile. The shower head sputters, a shaky pressure on your back but you lean into it and close your eyes. You rub a hand at the crook of your chest, and then down, down, down, circling your breast and then following the curve of hips to the apex of your legs. Tipping your head, letting the hot water stream through your hair and then your back; and you touch, feel , and you can almost taste him ; sweet and saccharine Miguel, at your lips. 

With two fingers flat against your clit, you rub little circles at the nub, dipping into your hole for much needed wetness. Your other hand travels up soft skin, pads of your fingers grazing collarbone, and then they curl around your neck. With a little pressure, your thumb grazes your jaw. Like he does, except your hands aren't as deliciously rough or as large. You slip a finger in, and then two, water pounding your back and eyes screwed. You push past that initial tightness, searching for a little give. When it comes, cunt clenching around your fingers, just shy of that sweet spot as you press your clit with the heel of your palm; you're imagining it's your roommate. He'd wrap those thick forearms around you, press his cock to the crest of your back and touch you like you deserve. 

You do it like Miguel would, reverent , touching you as if you were clay at a potter's wheel. In the hands of God herself, you cum; falling, falling, falling; tumbling down white water rapids and spit back up into the rushing water. You're panting, now, out of breath.

When you sink onto your bed, you realise it's not quite enough. Still in a fluffy robe, steam curls from your skin like clouds – ones that smell of cheap body wash and shampoo. Before you know it, you're reaching for your phone, sending two quick messages to a certain somebody. 

[Sent: 15:32]

hey mig

[Sent: 15:32]

where did u go? 

You don't expect a quick reply - he's never been much of a texter. But those three dots pop up in no time at all, much to your surprise. 

[Received: 15:33]

Out. 

[Received: 15:33]

Running errands. 

It's succinct and to the point – of which you expect nothing else from Miguel. Your thumbs fly to the screen to reply but another message tugs the rug out from under your shaky legs. 

[Received: 15:35]

Is everything okay? 

[Sent: 15:35]

yeah

[Sent: 15:36]

all good

When that provides no response, you're left chewing on your lip, anxious. He's seen the message, he's read the message; but for some reason, several minutes go by and there's no response. 

You're ready to give up and chalk it to your roommate's hot-and-cold nature, when your phone rings. 

Immediately, you pick up. 

" Don't believe you." His voice rings out, tinny, nestled amongst the covers. 

"Hey, Mig." You settle down on the bed, putting him on speaker and placing it by your ears. 

" Did you hear what I said?" His tone is deep and intense, making you shiver. It's not quite the same, of course, but you're reminded of nights spent with his lips tucked close the shell of your ear. 

You swallow. "Yeah. I… I did."

" You sure? Because you suck at lying."

"Don't be an asshole." 

" Think I get a free pass when you disappear for the whole day."

You roll your eyes. “You didn't call–”

“ Would you have answered?”

Ouch. He sounds frustrated, the quiet chatter of his background bathed in heavy silence. Silence thick with tension, and you almost choke on it.

He breaks it with a heavy sigh. “ You okay? ”

“No. Not really.”

“ Okay. ” He lets it sit for a while, before saying, “ I'll be home, soon. There's leftovers in the fridge, and you should eat, sweetheart. You want anything from the store? ”

His voice is so, so soft. It crackles like kindling on a fire: warmth that blooms and spreads to your chest. Like slipping off frozen gloves to thaw off in front of a heater, and he just makes you feel impossibly warm. 

“Not really, thanks.” You mumble it, and hear a satisfied grunt from the other end. Before you change your mind, you say, “Sorry. M'sorry.”

Miguel gives a light chuckle and you think you can hear him smile, the kind you always chase after a stupid argument: one that tugs at the corners of his pretty lips.

“ You've got nothin' to be sorry about .”

He gives you a moment to feel the weight of his words, and ends the call. That heat at your chest blooms. 

If Miguel O'Hara is the Sun, then maybe you don't mind being pulled into his orbit; bathing in steady light and warmth.

~~~

He comes home with flowers. A beautiful bouquet; delicate and balanced, featherlight wildflowers and brush, interspersed with sprays of blue and purple and pink. It's wonderfully dense, reminding you of the tangles of colour a child might decorate a picture with in wobbly crayon. Simply put, it's nothing short of a vision, and you notice how delicately he places it on the dining table.

With the rest of the grocery bags, Miguel clatters in, and you can't help but be curious. You're poking through the bags, sitting on the counter as he puts them away – after offering to help, of course, but he bats you away easily. Your bare legs bristle in the chill brought on by the window cracked open, and he just breezes past. 

The cabinet opens with a thud , and your roommate busies himself with putting away food. Carefully, you watch the way the muscles of his back flexes this way and that - cut and lean under that thin sweater. He’s otherwise occupied, and so you take the opportunity to stare, playing with a loose string at the hem of silky shorts. And so, it makes you jump when your phone buzzes beside you. Innocuously, you glance at the notification, and your eyes go wide.

“Who’s that?” Miguel asks, voice light. With that freaky sixth sense of his, he doesn’t need to turn around to know, it seems. 

“Lyla.” You murmur, reading the rest of the message.

“ ...And? ”

“Uh. Well…” Blinking, you can’t quite believe what she’s asking. “ Girl’s Night . I-I mean… she’s asking me to come with her for a Girl’s Night.”

“Really?” His tone is surprising, and you can hear how he beams by its lilting nature. Maybe he’s laughing at you, maybe he’s not, but you snap back regardless.

“ ... don’t act so surprised.”

“ You sound surprised.” He laughs.

“It’s different when I do it.” You say simply. “I just… I didn’t expect it. I didn’t even know we were close enough to–”

“Bullshit. You text her all the time.”

“A couple of times, Mig.” You correct him, trying to pin down a suitable response to give Lyla. You draw a blank. “I don’t want her to feel like she has to, or anything.”

He turns around, sleeves still rolled up. The look he gives makes you wither: one that could say about a million things. You think it means cut the crap , but he could just be constipated: you haven't quite mastered the art of reading Miguel O’Hara.

“Do you want to go?” He gets closer, hand flat on the counter next to your thigh. 

You nod, and his hand creeps up and up. 

Giving you a little smile, he shrugs. “Then go.”

It makes you shy. Bashful , even; and you’re wriggling as he squeezes the flesh. A hand on his forearm, and he’s close; so much so that all you can feel is the press of skin, and feel gentle breath fluttering past your cheek. You’re stuck underneath the gaze of his pretty lashes, and entranced at the way he licks his even prettier lips. A sudden thought seizes you - so heavy it makes your chest tight and leaden. 

Oh. You want to kiss him.

In a moment, it’s gone. A broad palm nudges your thigh aside, and you’re shifting so he can reach the drawers just by your legs. You oblige, falling back into familiar routine. 

Life moves on. Like Miguel said it would, and you find yourself entwined with the idea of time passing. Lying awake each night, picking out sand from underneath your fingernails, after clawing your way out of the hourglass. Steady, slow dregs; and it's tipped over each morning, restarting the clock. 

The flowers disappear from the dining table. Miguel retreats into the folds and dark corners of your apartment; you see him less and less. Passing ships in the night, you seem to miss each other by a fraction of a second. All of a sudden he's busy , and all of a sudden you're swamped with work. You only see each other at night, looking out for the bits and pieces left as proof of life: sometimes he'll leave a hot flask out for you in the mornings, and you'll greet him with a cheesy soap in the evenings. If he's not leaving later and later after work, that is. 

He looks tired, you note. Exhausted; prone to little yawns as you turn to him every now and then whilst watching on the couch. It's sweet, the way his frown has made way to a dopey smile, but it's frayed at the edges, tinged with something you can't quite place. You let him sleep that night, bringing pillows to lay his head on, and wrapping him up in that old blanket. 

Girl's night creeps up on you. It shakes you by the shoulders when you collapse on the sofa after a long day – and you're rushing to get ready. There's no Miguel to make sly remarks or prod you into action, this time. You wonder what he'd say about what you're wearing; a leftover dress buried in boxes from your ex's apartment. 

Short, tight, snug; it has you feeling glamorous – but you hope it doesn't look as fanciful as it feels. Too much; yet again, you're worried about being too much. Even though you're running a little late, you take the time to carefully apply makeup; something shiny on your lids, a dab of blush, and gloss slathered onto your lips. When you sling on little heels, and snatch a petite bag from the hooks near the door, there's barely enough time to catch that last glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Down and out you go, into a dusky night.

~~~

“I had to go through her manager– and wait, can you believe this girl has a fucking manager, now?” Lyla bats at MJ's shoulder, and the redhead laughs good-naturedly. 

“It's not– she's exaggerating! My manager's just my mom, I swear.” 

“It's a good thing, no?” You smile, taking a healthy swig of a brightly coloured cocktail. 

“It means she is booked, and–” Lyla hiccups, raising an unsteady glass that threatens to tip. MJ straightens her elbow instinctually, before raising her own. “ – very busy .”

It's your turn to laugh, glass held high in the air. With a clink , there's a clash of crystal that's all but drowned out by the chatter in the upscale bar.

Somewhere fancy, courtesy of Lyla. One of those places that serves tiny portions in big, empty plates, a fusion of cultural food with white, upper class owners. No-doubt the result of summering somewhere in the ever-broad global South , Lyla had said slyly, under the lip of a menu. 

There's powdered sugar on the rim of your flute. It dissolves on your tongue. You down the rest. Sickly sweet, and you wipe what drips onto your lips. 

It has you checking your phone. Miguel hasn't called, not that you were expecting anything. Whilst Lyla and MJ talk, you scroll mindlessly through his chat; a smattering of one word answers. Missed calls. Unanswered messages.

" –what about you, babe?" 

Your eyes snap back up to meet Lyla's, expectant. 

"Uhhh…"

"Nevermind." Sharp eyes travel to your phone, and there's a flash of recognition. "Miggy said you're in school. He said you're gonna graduate early, this year."

"He said that?" You're confused. "I mean… I'm trying but it's not looking like that, right now."

She wags a finger, shaking her head like she's trying to remember something. "No, no, he seemed adamant. Said you're working hard, doing well."

"Doing better ." You correct her, shyly. 

" Bullshit. " She says it the way Miguel does, and it makes you laugh. You see it now; he's the product of the people he loves. A kind of Frankenstein's monster, he's stitched together those bits and pieces; he's made himself beautiful. You wonder what piece of you he carries. If he even holds you that close to his chest. 

"I bet you're doing amazing. " MJ finishes. Her smile is warm, and copper-coloured; it feels hazy and ambered in your little corner. "Better than me, anyways. I would rather die than go back to college."

"Back?" You ask. 

"Oh, of course! You don't know." She giggles, leaning in like she's about to say something scandalous - the drink is clearly doing its job. Her next words are an exaggerated stage whisper. "I dropped out."

" Seriously? " You play along, with faux shock. 

"...damn right she did." Lyla gives a drunken wave to a nearby waiter, asking for another glass of wine. Something expensive, she whispers, giving a deceptive smile. 

"It just wasn't for me, I guess. I went because everyone around me was going, even Pete. Uhh, English Lit, or something. And it didn't… I–I mean it just wasn't–" 

"It didn't click."

" Right!" She snaps her fingers. "It was too much. I didn't know what I was doing, I was 18, for God's sake. Think I stuck at it for a bit too long, honestly."

"...and the world didn't explode." You breathe. 

MJ answers with a knowing nod. She chugs the rest of a crisp Mojito, raising the empty glass once more. 

"To doing better ."

You're quick to follow. "To doing better."

Lyla frowns, looking for a glass that's tucked into the corner. The room must be spinning already, with the way she pats around for it. You nudge it towards her with an elbow, and she's raucous; crumpling into a fit of giggles. 

One drink turns to two, two turns to three, and then four ; until you're ready to spill out onto the busy strip. When the waiter places a slip of paper into the centre, one with so many zeroes it makes your eyes bulge, you don't even have to pretend to reach for your wallet. Gleefully, Lyla picks up the bill, sliding a shiny Amex card onto the dish. 

She's generous, you note, as she buys a bottle of wine to go when MJ picks up her bag. She's perceptive, too. You see it when MJ wrings her hands, still tipsy and stuttering in her heels as you pile onto the street. She's making apologies already - I've got an early start and need to see my May - but Lyla intercepts. There's the gentle clink of a bottle thrust into her hands, something expensive, and she kisses the apples of her cheeks before sending her off in a taxi. 

Her own cheeks are ruddy, rosy with drink and she splits into a wide smile. The back of her hand comes up to your neck. Warm , she whispers, before linking arms with you like a schoolgirl off to do something they shouldn't. 

Eventually, with shaky legs, you end up in a nightclub. She knows someone who knows someone, apparently, and you're ushered into a packed place just off 76th. Lights and pounding music, a flurry of limbs; you let the crowd take you in. If this is what it means to be a part of a whole; some writhing, heaving beast, to be more than your hand in someone else's and theirs in yours; then you could live here forever, you think. Forever, for the night, for the next ten minutes; you blink , and time passes. 

You're having fun, you think. Letting the blood rush to your head, hips swaying to the music and you don't push away the quiet snap of a phone camera, nor it's red recording light. Dancing, singing, many seem to be pulled into orbit around you. This is how it works , pushed into an ebb and flow of people held together by broken lyrics and a thumping bassline. You let it wash over you, all-consuming, dragging yourself into murky depths. 

You're in a booth, now, anchored by a dainty hand around your wrist. Pupils blown, she cups your face to inspect you, to figure out where you've gone. Someone's bought you a drink, there's a stranger's arm around your shoulders, but Lyla pushes them both away. Too much? It's a question, of which you shake your head firmly - lolling and with a distinct lack of fine motor skills - no. Not enough. 

You blink. Bitter liquor hits your throat, and you chase the taste of somebody else's lips. A stranger, and even under the influence you know it doesn't feel right. Bile rises, and you're gone, clamping onto your stomach and trying not to hurl. 

You blink. You're on the sidewalk, with a heavy head on someone's shoulder. The strap of your heels dig into your ankles and you fumble with it, trying to stop the road from spinning. Lyla holds you up, not much more up to task than you are. 

A car pulls up, and at first you don't recognise it; entranced by shiny rims coming to a stop. You look up, still buried in Lyla's thick jacket; and you see it. You see him. 

Miguel's wearing glasses. That's the first thing you notice, stumbling to your feet. Immediately, your face cracks into a dopey smile, leaning onto the lip of the open window. He gives you a once over, swallowing thickly, brows drawn. 

Quiet chatter flys straight over your head. Lyla arguing, Miguel wagging a finger at her; but all you can see is him. It's like you've got blinkers on, tunnel vision making you focus on the curve of cheekbone, and the way his eyes scrunch up around black rims and glass. 

You clamber into the backseat.

“Get in, Ly.”

The other woman seems resolute. “ M'not –”

“Did you take something?”

“Fuck you.” Flashing a middle finger, she wraps up her coat like a robe, walking away down the road. 

He's adamant, driving up next to her. You keep your head on the glass where it's cool.

“Let me take you home. Please. ”

Frowning, she stops. When he leans over to open the passenger's side, she slips off her boots, and sidles in.

Their voices feel like a blur. You can barely register, only picking up half of the words hissed under their breath.

“... I called you, you can't give me a lecture…”

“...not fair, Lyla…. can't keep babysitting…”

“... fucking hypocrite… not the only one… I'm going through some shit…”

“...too far…. always taking it too…”

He drops her off outside of the apartment. From the backseat, you're sobering up; able to catch his heavy sigh as he watches her through the window. It's only when he sees her walk in does he turn to you, passing bottled water kept in the console.

“You want to come out to the front?”

You like the way he says it, for some reason. Any anger or frustration he had towards Lyla dissipates. He doesn't bring that into a quiet conversation with you.

He's too solemn, too serious, and so you clamber into the front over the console; limbs and legs everywhere, as obnoxiously as you can. A slight elbow to his chest, a hand clutching his shirt; you want to make him laugh. As you settle onto the seat, you see it: huffing dramatically, he gives you a small smile.

Miguel reverses back out onto the road.

You blink, and you're home. Legs still shaky, he helps you up the stairs, settling you onto the sofa. Car keys clink onto the dish by the door, and he slips off his coat – that brown one, your favourite, you think.

Fumbling with the strap of your heels, it must be too painful for him to watch as Miguel settles by your feet. His big, strong hands are surprisingly deft when he undoes the dainty buckle.

“Are you mad at me?” Meekishly, you watch and he shakes his head, not making eye-contact. Maybe it's the alcohol, but you're staring; looking for that light in his eyes amongst the dark room. 

Now, he looks up. “What?”

“M'just looking.” You say, chewing the inside of your cheek as one shoe slips off. “ I'm not allowed to look?”

The other one comes off, and he hisses when he spots a little cut where the strap dug into your ankle. He can't help it, rolling it gently in his hands, trying to ease the pain with a massage.

“You wear glasses.” You say it softly, more to yourself than to anyone else. Giggling now, you cradle his face and he sits up. “I didn't know that.”

“ That's not – I've always worn glasses. You're just not paying attention.” He shrugs lazily, but he's smiling.

“Not true , Mig. I would've noticed.”

“You're drunk–”

“When it's you, I always pay attention.” Absent-mindedly, your hand curls into his hair. He keens . “Like… your hair's getting longer.”

Gently, he shakes out of your grip, getting up. “I know, I know. I need a haircut.”

“I like it.” Starry-eyed, you look up at him. “You're so pretty, Mig.”

It makes him heave. Still tipsy, your legs spread ever so slightly, hand taking his and pulling him closer. Placing his hand on your thigh, you let it trace up, up, up, catching at the hem of your short dress.

He practically caves in, collapsing next to you on the couch. 

“You should–” His eyes are glassy as you ease yourself onto his lap. “ F-Fuck . You should go to bed, sweetheart.”

Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you roll your hips, watching as he groans wantonly. 

“But I'm not tired.” His hand ends up on your waist, applying just the right amount of pressure. Underneath, you can feel him stir, increasingly hard under loose sweats. “And you haven't touched me in weeks. ”

You're exaggerating, but it goes to his head anyway. He buries his head into the crook of your shoulder, whispering into the bare skin.

“I know, I know…”

“Just the tip, Miguel.” You're grinding your clit onto him, pussy barely covered by a thin thong. Whispered into the shell of his ear, you're a siren, honeyed words dangerously close to breaking him down. “Just the tip, and I promise , I'll let it go. Please , baby.”

Your dress rides up, and his hands come down to palm at your ass.

“ Please…” You're pleading, lips on his neck as he squeezes, forcing you down to hump directly over his cock.

“Oh, shit.” His hips jump once, twice; and then he stills, hands at your hips and ass to stop you.

Desperate, you whine, trying to fight against it. He doesn't let up, hand cradling your chin so you can look him in the eye.

“ Bed .” He says, shakily. “Not like this.”

He slips you off, noticeably adjusting his pants. Legs spread wide, head tipped back as he sighs; he looks delicious , and you're fighting off the urge to let him take you right there and then. 

You stumble through the little hallway, pushing past some doors. Something clatters into your thigh, and you hear a dull thud as another thing falls to the floor. Frustrated, you strip down to your underwear, something light and lacy and it leaves very little to the imagination. 

There's a bed, and you collapse on it; swimming in the silky sheets. It smells like him - musky and oaky and gentle - and you think you must be dreaming already. And then, you sit up, realising too late - this isn't your room. 

Miguel wasn't too far off, hearing the thumping and clattering; hesitant as he opens the door. You're wrapped up like a present, spilling out of lingerie on his bed. He swallows, turning away to dig into his wardrobe, intending to pull out a baggy shirt for you.

“ Miguel .” You croak, but he ignores the want in your voice, so heavy it goes straight to his cock. “Miguel, please. ”

All his shirts blend together. He can't concentrate.

“Do you think I don't want it? Because I do, fuck, I need it. So bad, baby, please.” Your body heaves with a half sob. 

Heart splintering, he turns. Finally, you meet his eye. You spread your legs.

“ Here. Right here .” You tap your clothed cunt with shaky fingers, pulling your thong to the side. His eyes drink it up, the way you glisten when your cunt eats up the fabric. You know he's watching, and you take advantage of it, circling your clit with the pads of two fingers. “Like this . When I touch myself, I think of you… d-did you know that?”

Swallowing roughly, he can't take his eyes off of you.

“What… What else?” He croaks.

“I think of your tongue, a-at my pussy. And your fingers… God. ” You slip a finger in, and he watches as your cunt clenches around it; gushing and sloppy. “Your l-lips. Meant it, before. When I said you were pretty. Want to sit on that pretty face and watch you melt– oh-h- fuck- ”

He wants to lick it up, all that slick that sluices from your hole. His mouth waters, just thinking about it. 

“Put another one in, for me.” He says it low, sinking to his knees to watch you fuck yourself. 

Nodding, you oblige. 

“Does it feel good?”

“ Yes. ” You don't hesitate. 

“Can you fit another one? Want to see how good she looks when she comes, sweetheart.”

Three fingers in, now, and he slides your thong a little further aside; reaching up to press his thumb to your clit. Light streams in from blinds cracked open and highlights your thighs perfectly. Nevertheless, he adjusts his glasses to make sure he doesn't miss anything.

The twitch of your leg, the way your hand cramps up, the way your lips curl into a delicious O - he sees it all, commits it to memory.

“ Faster , please.”

“ Doesn't –” You're frustrated, clearly chasing something that refuses to surface. “Not the same. Can't fucking reach. ”

He titters, nipping at your thighs and soothing the bites with the flat of his tongue.

“Poor baby. Will you let me help?”

Fervently, you nod, slipping out your fingers as he takes off his glasses. They're discarded, too foggy to be useful right now.

“Did I tell you to take them out?” He sighs and gestures for your hand. Wrapping his lips around them he sucks them clean, humming lightly. He pats your clit with a wet slap, content. “Put two fingers in, sweetheart.”

Doing as he says, your head feels full - cotton wool and bubble wrap, only able to focus on the pleasure building behind your clit. And when he slots two fingers in next to yours , it rips out a gravelly moan. 

“ Here? ” He says dragging himself deeper, curling his fingers up. “Or is it… here? ”

You groan, limp against his hand as you feel impossibly full. It reminds you of the stretch of his cock; creaming around the base of his two fingers and yours. That wonderful curl as he pumps himself in and out, cupping your hand in the process to make sure you match his pace. He can feel your walls spasm around him, impossibly soft and velveteen. 

“Can't say no to you,” His eyes are low, grunting as he palms himself roughly. “Even though… fuck … even though I should.”

It's wet, the slap slap slap of skin against skin echoing in his room. Miguel sits up, pressing his lips to your neck, and you take the opportunity to slip your other hand into his sweats. You start pumping, in time with his ministrations, eyes blown as you swipe your thumb over his weeping slit.

You know he likes it rough, and you jerk him into your palm; fast and hard and you watch as he matches your pace. Even now, you're competing, trying to catch the him up; to see who can make the other cum first. 

You push back on his fingers, hips slotting against his, whispering nonsense into his neck. You're too fucked out to care; confessions you never thought would see the light of day. All the little things you like about him, things he says, things he does; and you don't even register the ochred flush smattered along the ridge of cheekbone.

He spills into your hand, and you're quick to follow; cumming around him as his fingers stutter in and out. It feels good , dangerously so, and has you pressing shaky kisses around his mouth, and nipping at his bottom lip.

He stills, but you're greedy, aching for more. You want him in you; seating his thick cock deep inside, painting your walls with hot cum, and pushing it back in with deft fingers. Every part of you is on fire, barely satiated by your heated foray.

You tip back onto the bed, and he joins you; caging you in with thick forearms, looking at you like you've stolen all the stars in the sky. That feeling , again, slams into your chest like a bullet. Messy hair, ruddy cheeks, hand gently tracing your jaw; he looks gone, and oh so soft. You want to kiss him ; and it's a thought that sticks, embedding itself somewhere you can't reach to dig it out.

“ Miguel .” You whisper, enough alcohol at the edges of your mind to stop thinking and spill your guts to him, unfiltered. “Are you sleeping with someone else?”

His eyes flit over your face before answering and he shakes his head. 

“No. No. Just you. Only you.” 

“ Don't believe you .” But you want to. So, so desperately. “Promise me?”

“I promise, sweetheart.” He swallows. “Are you?”

“No. Don't think I could if I tried.” It comes out watery, stuck at the back of your throat.

He just looks, for a moment, cradling the back of your head. 

“I want to kiss you.” It spills out from your lips.

“I know.” 

“Then why won't you kiss me?”

“Not a good idea.” He strains, kissing your forehead, and then each cheek. Hesitating, he places a gentle peck to your chin. “Ask me tomorrow.”

He says it simply, too easily; and it makes you want to sob. When Miguel slips away, and you hear the sound of a light turned on in the bathroom, you can't move. Catatonic; you blink, and he's cleaned you up, and slipped a shirt over your shoulders. Laying back in his bed, you watch as he lingers by the doorway, shrouded in shadow. 

Goodnight. Y ou think you say it out loud, but it echoes in your head. 

He says back, but not really. Instead, he leaves that goodnight hanging by the doorway like an old coat, and you wrap it over your shoulders. 

It keeps you a little warmer through the night.

_

_

_

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[wholesome-holland]

Cassie x male reader

She is really attached to him and is by his side 24/7 and she thinks he is getting tired of her and being clingy so he reassures her and it’s just fluff

Clingy

request for: anon!

paring: cassie howard x male!reader

warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, overthinking, negative self talk

     Cassie Howard was a lover girl. She loved love, she loved being loved and she loved loving others. She had been in a few relationships here and there, and she fell hard for every guy she was with. Many of those guys had just been with her for the sexual benefits that came with being in a relationship, some of them because they really liked her. Regardless of the reason, every one of those relationships ended the same way; her being broken up with.

"I'm not looking for anything serious."

"I'm not into you like that."

"I'm interested in someone else one."

"I just want to work on myself."

She'd heard every reason in the book, and they all hurt. Breakups always were painful, but having a bullshit excuse come with it made it even worse. Out of all of the excuses she'd heard, there was one that stood out the most. One that hurt more than all the rest, one that was more common for her to hear.

"You're just too clingy, it's too much."

She would rather hear anything but that. The word clingy cut her deep, it was a continuous wound that never healed regardless of who she was with. She couldn't help it, she wanted the person she was with to know she loved them and she wanted to feel that love was reciprocated. She often seeked out reassurance, none of them ever gave it. Her love ran so deep, all she wanted was that same type of love in return. Granted, she had also never been in a healthy relationship, until she met Y/n Y/l/n.

Cassie met him during her senior year a little while after her split from Chris McKay. She knew of Y/n, even if she didn't know him personally. He was a hockey player at East Highland, one of their best players. He was a senior just like her, and was relatively popular. The party— that was being hosted by someone whose name she couldn't remember— was being held at a large house with hundreds of people from their school. She and her sister Lexi arrived with their group of friends after spending hours getting ready together. She hadn't been single for this long until a while, but for once, she didn't mind. She was okay, she felt alright. She enjoyed spending the time getting ready and looking pretty for herself and not for someone else, it felt so good. Even knowing she would possibly run into McKay at the party didn't bother her or make her feel pressured to look perfect. She wanted to look perfect for herself. She was proud of herself for that.

     It had been a while since her and her friends went to a party together, they were making the most out of it and living it up. Maddy and Nate just so happened to also be split up, so they weren't spending the evening clinging to their man's arms. They were dancing with their girls, laughing, and having fun.

     At some point during the night, Cassie decided she wanted a drink, as anyone attending a party would. There was a bar area she had been told was set up in the middle of house, and as she made her way to said bar area, some people who were mindlessly dancing bumped into her rather aggressively. Which then sent her flying into another person, sending them to the floor. That person just so happened to Y/n Y/l/n.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! Are you okay? I'm so sorry," she frantically told him, helping him up from the ground.

"No worries, I'm okay," Y/n said, rubbing the back of his head as he accepted her help up.

"I feel horrible. I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to knock you over. I was trying to get through and there were people dancing and—"

"Hey, seriously, it's alright. No need to apologize," He gave her a small smile, "I'm used to it from Hockey." He joked.

Of course, that didn't stop her from feeling bad for knocking into him. Every time she tried to apologize, he was wave her off, assuring her that it truly was alright and it was no big deal. She offered to make him a drink as a final apology, claiming she knew a special recipe she could make with the liquor that was present. He took that opportunity to make an agreement; if he accepted the drink, she would stop apologizing.

      "Okay, fine. I can agree to that," Cassie chuckled, grabbing two cups and a couple of the bottles. Before she could start pouring, Y/n put a hand on her arm.

     "We have to pinky swear," He grinned, holding his pinky out to her. She playfully rolled her eyes before locking her pinky with his, squeezing it slightly.

     "Pinky swear." That lead to the two spending the whole night talking to one another, getting to know each other. He was such a gentleman and so kind right off the bat in a way none of the other guy's at their school were. He was also strikingly handsome, which was just an added bonus. They spent quite a lot of the night chit chatting, not realizing how long it had been until Maddy came looking for Cassie.

"There you are, come dance with me!" Maddy exclaimed, taking Cassie's hand and trying to drag her away.

"Hold on, one sec Maddy," The blonde said, motioning to the boy next to her. Maddy made an o"o" shape with her mouth before smirking at her, giving her a thumbs up and walking away.

Y/n chuckled the interaction, "Well, I better let you get back to your friends. I've kept you held up long enough," he stated.

"Yeah, I guess. It was really nice talking to you, Y/n. We'll have to talk more soon," Cassie responded, a large grin on her face.

"Yes, definitely," Y/n said before quickly grabbing his phone from his back pocket. "Would you... maybe want to give me your number? So we can keep talking more? Only if you want to, only if you're comfortable with that." His cheek flushed a light shade of pink as he waited for her response.

"Of course, I'd love that." They exchanged phone numbers before bidding their goodbyes, both smiling equally as wide.

That was just the start of their story. They quickly began texting all the time, every day. They would meet up every now and then at school, hang out after school, and before long Cassie began to develop feelings for the boy. This time, it was different. Y/n was unlike any other boy she had ever met; He was funny, kind, respectful, and cared about more than just her pretty face or body. He cared about all the little things, just as much as the big things. He knew all her favorite things, all her little habits and ticks, and he knew how to make her smile.

About two months later, Y/n decided he was going to ask the girl he had fallen so hard for to be his girlfriend. It started with him asking her in a date, to which she said yes. He had arranged a surprise dinner at her favorite restaurant and got her a big, beautiful bouquet of her favorite flowers. After dinner, he took her to his house where he decorated the finished basement with lights, flower petals, and candles. He set up a cozy movie station for them to watch her favorite movies.

During the movie, they went from sitting next to each other to Cassie snuggling into his chest. As the credits rolled, he shifted upwards causing her to look up.

"Y/n? You okay?" Cassie asked, her eyebrows furrowing together.

He took a deep breath in, preparing himself in his head. "Cass?" He said.

"Yes?"

"I need to ask you something," he kept his sentences short in order to not word vomit due to his intense nerves. Cassie sat up straight, looking him in the face as she felt her heart start to beat faster. Could this be it? Is he gonna ask what I think? She thought to herself.

"So, I'm sure you can probably tell based on me asking you on a date, but I really, really like you," he began, feeling himself blush.

"I really like you too, Y/n." She beamed, unable to hide the pure joy on her face.

"Yeah?" He asked, grinning like he'd just won an award. The girl nodded, and he inched his hand towards hers. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

"I would love to be your girlfriend, Y/n."

Just like that, they were officially boyfriend and girlfriend. Y/n swore he'd never been happier in his whole life, and he made it his mission to show her every single day. He brought her flowers on a daily basis, took her on all kinds of dates every week, made sure she knew how beautiful she was every day, and made sure make his devotion known.

In every relationship she had been in at this point, she had been spoiled, but not to this extent. Nobody had ever shown her this kind of affection, let alone kept it consistent no matter how much time passed. She had never felt so loved, and it made her fall in love with him even harder than she already was. She couldn't believe how lucky she had been to find him.

     Months passed, the two were more attached at the hip than ever. At school, Y/n walked Cassie to all her classes, sat with her at lunch, and drove her to and from school. After school, she would attend all his practices and games for both sports depending on the season. He would go to all her ice skating practices, and anything she found important. They spent all their free time together, it was hard to get one away from the other. Y/n's friends made fun of him, but he always shut them down and made sure they knew not to make any comments that were anything but nice about his girl. He didn't care what they had to say, all he cared about was Cassie. He pushed her to make time for her friends as well as him, but he didn't mind not hanging out with his friends that often. None of them were as close as Cassie was to her friends.

Eventually, they met each other's parents and families. Casie invited him over for dinner and it was safe to say Suze absolutely adored Y/n. She made sure to point out the drastic change she'd seen in her daughter since he came along, she hadn't seen her that happy in a long time. Not even with McKay. When meeting Y/n's family, Cassie was invited to their annual bowling night. It was the family's thing, it was very rare for them to invite newcomers. But, Cassie was different. They gladly made the exception, and ended up all loving the girl just as much as Suze loved Y/n.

Their relationship was relatively flawless, though they definitely had their struggles every now and then. Cassie had never been in a relationship that was healthy, and had plenty of work to do to make this relationship stay that way. She had insecurities and fears she needed to stay mindful of, and Y/n was there to help her every step of the way. He reassured her, comforted her, and was very patient and supportive of her. For the most part, she learned to feel secure.

One thing Cassie hadn't learned to handle though, was her clinginess. Sometimes, she wouldn't even catch herself being clingy. Other times, her ex's voices rang in her mind telling her she was "too clingy" and "too much" nonstop. When that happened, she would begin to pull away a little bit in fear he would think the same thing as the other's did. Y/n only ever noticed a difference when she would pull away from him, which left him confused. He would try to pry and talk to her about it, and every time she would just brush it off like it was nothing. He could clearly tell it was something, but she wouldn't budge.

That was until she began acting that way in the middle of date night. It was their date night in for the month, where they typically would cook together and watch whatever show they were currently binging together. One date a month they would do this, the rest of their dates they went out and about. Cassie was usually rather cuddly and touchy with her boyfriend, she never found herself overthinking during their dates. This particular day was a Friday, and at school she heard other cheerleaders talking very loudly about her boyfriend in the locker rooms after practice.

"I can't believe Cassie and Y/n are still together," one girl said. Cassie, who was in a bathroom stall, tried her hardest to ignore them. At first, she brushed it off, until they kept going and would not shut the fuck up.

"I know right! How is he not sick of her?"

"She literally throws herself at him 24/7, it's insane."

"She is so fucking desperate, he must get so tired of it. I swear I saw him move away from her when she tried to hug him today."

"It's about time, maybe he's realizing he can someone less pathetic."

The blonde couldn't get their words out of her head, no matter how hard she tried. If other people thought that way, surely he did too, right? People she barely even talked to could sense how clingy she was, and apparently how annoyed he appeared. That right there was enough to send her into an overthinking episode, one much worse than she'd had in a while. As Y/n dished up their places, she was leaned against the counter, staring off into space as she thought it all over. She was pulled from her thoughts when her boyfriend wrapped an arm around her, telling her the food was ready. She quickly shied away from him, bidding him a thank you as she took her plate and headed towards the stairs.

"Hey, babe?" Y/n called out, his tone laced with concern. She turned around to look at him as he grabbed his own plate and began walking towards her. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she whispered, staring at the ground and going down the stairs. The boy furrowed his eyebrows, following close behind her. They sat on the couch together with their plates in their laps, Y/n taking a seat close to his girlfriend. She scooted over the slightest bit, but wanting to appear like she was all over him. Many red flags were going off in Y/n's head, she wasn't being her usual, lovey, talkative self. Something was definitely wrong. The boy kept making advances in attempt to be close to her, just to be rejected each and every time.

After a half hour of them going back and forth, him silently trying to fix the problem, he decided to speak up. "Baby?"

"Hm?"

"What's going on with you today?" He finally asked, staring at her with a look of concern. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze as she tried not to make eye contact.

     "Nothings going on," she lied, looking everywhere but at him.

     "Yes there is," he stated. "I know you like the back of my hand and you've been acting super off since after practice. Talk to me, love."

     "I don't know what you're talking about," Y/n knew what she was doing; she was bullshitting him to avoid talking about the problem. If it was over something small, he would wait until she was ready to talk about it. This was different, and he wanted— no, needed to know what was wrong so he could fix it.

     "You've been really quiet, which isn't like you. You haven't really let me touch you, and you haven't been touchy with me either—"

     "What's so bad about that?" she cut him off, her voice just barely above a whisper.

      "What? What do you mean?" Y/n asked, feeling even more confused and concerned.

      "I mean I'm too clingy, anyways. And I'm too much, what's so bad about me not acting like that?" As she spoke, her eyes filled with tears. The moment Y/n noticed, he was taking her face in his hands and moving her head to face him. She still avoided his gaze as she tried to keep her tears at bay.

     "Baby, look at me," she shook her head no, but that didn't stop him. "Cassie, please. I need you to look at me,"

     After what felt like forever, she finally met his gaze and he swore he felt himself melt in her eyes.

“Cassie, you are not too clingy or too much.“ he told her firmly.

“But, I’m all over you all the time. It’s pathetic,” the girl scoffed as her boyfriend wiped her tears with his thumbs.

“Why would you say that, love? You’re not pathetic,” he whispered with a sad frown.

“Because it’s true, and you know it too.” She moved backwards away from his grasp before wiping at her own face with her hand.

“What?! No! I don’t think you’re pathetic baby, not at all. I would never, ever think that of you.”

“Maybe not now, but you will! They always do! I’m— I’m always too much, or I’m too clingy or desperate and everyone thinks so! Everyone always gets sick of me, just like you will because they’re all right!” Cassie cried out, letting her head fall into her hands as soft sobs escaped her lips. Y/n couldn’t believe his ears, it broke his heart right in half to hear that his girl thought so low of herself— and even more so that she thought he believed it, too.

“Woah, woah, woah. Who said that?” He was quickly moving to wrap his arms around her shoulders, being weakly shoved off. He didn’t let that stop him, and he pulled her into his chest and held her tightly as she cried. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead, rocking her back and forth. They sat like that for who knows how long before Cassie calmed down, feeling embarassed about her outburst.

“Are you ready to talk, baby?” Y/n asked as he reached for a nearby box of tissues. Cassie nodded before blowing her nose. After that, she told him everything from all of the things her exes had said to her to what she overheard the girls saying in the locker room. He felt his heart shatter even more, all he wanted was to scoop her in his arms and love her forever. “My love, I need you to know they are all wrong. So wrong! I could never get sick of you, and I will never get sick of you or annoyed with you. Sure, maybe you can be clingy, but I love it. I love your clingy, because I am just as clingy to you if not more. I love how attached and touchy you are with me, I love all of it… I love you, Cassie.”

Cassie’s head perked up, fearing she misheard him. “You what?”

“I love you, Cassie. I am so in love with you,” he whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear and cupping her cheek. “You don’t have to say it back if you’re not ready, but I just wanted you to know.”

“I love you too, Y/n.” She grinned, cutting him off.

Y/n chuckled as his own smile grew. He pulled her in and gave her a soft, passionate kiss. He knew he wasn’t going to just skip over what she was worried about, and was going to continue to reassure her, but right now he was so ecstatic to know that she loved him just like he loved her.

okay this turned out WAAAYYYY longer than this was meant to, and didn’t necessarily follow canon… but i’m not mad at it!! i hope you all liked it, and i hope the anon who requested it loves it!! i’m so glad to be getting back into writing. i have so much more planned to come out and i hope you’re all as excited as i am!!

[dat-town]

abcdlove

Characters: school radio club leader!Taesan & class president!female reader

Setting & genre: high school au, coming of age, first love, fluff, a hint of enemies to lovers but it’s only in the girl’s head

Summary: You convinced yourself that you hated Han Taesan after what he had done in sophomore year but now you have to work together on a senior project and maybe he isn’t that bad. Or maybe just for your heartbeat.

Warnings: stage names are used, OC has negative opinion about Taesan and Leehan in the beginning, mentions of social and parental pressure, the amount of banana milk consumed might not be healthy, hopefully not too ooc even though i wrote it within like 2 weeks after @restlessmaknae started sending me bonedo content

Words: 9.6k

Author’s note: this is the product of the amount of Ann Liang books i binge read recently, the instagram algorithm and @restlessmaknae’s marketing for Zico’s kids. this really pulled me out of my writing slump, so thank you for that! honestly my first impression of Taesan was that he looks like a tsundere, so that’s pretty much how it all started.

i'm pretty sure you guessed it; happy name day @restlessmaknae <3

read Leehan’s companion piece here

You had been following your well-planned route to success for years. You had already taken advanced courses at a prestigious hagwon, a private after-school academy for the subjects you totally needed to ace at CSAT. You also offered tutoring services to underclassmen, volunteered at the local library during summer and carefully chose your extracurriculars to align with the ideal student vision SKY universities had. You only needed to follow through the plan in your senior year too and you would be fine. You would finally make it.

Needless to say Han Taesan wasn’t part of your plans.

Yet, there he was standing right in front of the principal’s office where you were heading in all his 6 feet tall glory, his school uniform’s tie neatly done for once.

“What are you doing here?” You blurted out with no greeting when your steps slowly halted next to him, your jaw set and muscles tense.

Taesan turned his head slowly and looked at you impassively from under his dark fringe before speaking up in his raspy voice that made your classmates swoon whenever they heard him make a radio announcement.

“What does it look like?” He raised a brow as if he was telling you not to ask stupid things.

There could only be two kinds of reasons why somebody was called into the principal’s room: either very good or very bad. You had never gotten into trouble, so you were hoping for something positive but seeing the boy there wasn’t really promising. Not because he was a troublemaker or a bad student. He might not have been a straight A student like yourself but he was the leader of the school radio club and he was also generally liked among his peers as far as you knew. Your wariness was more so because you didn’t want to be associated with him in any way.

“Oh, both of you are already here. Wonderful! Come in, come in,” the office door opened and Principal Im rushed you inside with a welcoming smile.

At least, you could be sure by then that the news wasn't anything too bad.

You took a step to follow the man inside at the same time Taesan moved next to you as well which made you momentarily falter. However the boy merely reached out and put a hand onto the door’s edge to keep it from closing. You had to force yourself not to scoff at the fake gentleman-ish action and instead just duck under his arm to go inside the office.

You just sat down in one of the cushy chairs and smoothed out the lines of your school uniform skirt when you heard the door close and soon enough Taesan took the chair next to you.

“Alright, I won’t even waste your precious time since I know both of you are busy. I called the two of you here because as representatives of the senior classes, I would like the two of you to conduct interviews with your classmates and prepare a pre-recorded radio segment that can be broadcasted on graduation day. It can be about anything you want: what the students’ aspirations are or what they liked the best in high school. I trust you will do a great job,” the principal smiled at you hopefully but you could feel your own polite smile freeze onto your face. This was not how you imagined yourself spending the first term of senior year.

“But…”

“Yes, Y/N?” The principal looked at you expectantly and you could feel Taesan’s dark eyes on you as well which snapped you out of your confused stupor.

“Why the two of us?”

“Of course, you can get others to help too if you want but you have exceptional organizing skills as I heard and Taesan already has experience with our recording system and editing softwares. You two were the first ones we could think of, but of course I can’t force you…”

“It would be an honor, Principal Im,” you hurried to stop him there because there was no way you would have said no to a task like this. Not only because you could hardly say no anyways but also because it would look good on your resume. The only thing that bothered you was having to do it with a boy you could not stand. If you had that much time and you could do so, you would have gladly done it alone without his help but no matter how much you hated it, Principal Im was right: he had the skills to perfect a radio segment.

“Great! If you don’t have further questions, then good luck!”

“Okay, what about we meet after school to discuss the plans?” You asked immediately once you left the principal office because you had less than 5 minutes until first period and since you didn’t share a class with Taesan, you rarely ran into each other unplanned (thank god) and you would need your color-coded planner from your bag to plan any further than the afternoon.

“I have a radio club thing until 6,” Taesan simply said, not offering any alternatives, so you let out a sigh. Of course. What did you expect?

“And I have academy classes every other day,” you pointed out because he wasn’t the only one busy. “Then I can just email you your parts and we don’t need to–”

“So you can complain later that I’m freeloading off your hard work? No thanks,” the boy interrupted you and your gaze sharpened at him. He leaned casually against the corridor’s wall, a hand reaching up to loosen his tie and tilted his head at you as if to challenge you to protest. “We can make do during lunch hour.”

You opened your mouth, ready to tell him that you had plans already but going over your History notes, when it was just the first week of the term and you were ahead of the course work anyway, wasn’t that necessary even though you hated giving in to his idea.

“Okay, let’s meet outside at the benches then,” you agreed, telling yourself to be the bigger person, and turned your back on the boy before he could see the frustration bubbling up in you.

You and Han Taesan had the kind of history that you didn’t really like to revisit. That’s why your initial reaction was to roll your eyes whenever you heard his voice on the school radio or to puke your guts out when girls gushed about his ‘tsundere charm’. Their words, not yours.

Actually you would have probably not cared about the guy if it wasn’t for your model student campaign which he had ruined. Last year the school had run an event to choose a student representative by voting and every candidate could have a pre-recorded segment on the radio. You had your own carefully recorded and edited audio file with the best convincing speech you could prepare and emailed them the sharing link on time just to hear yourself sing your go-to karaoke song through the radio on the big day. In panic, you ran to the school radio broadcasting station only to find Taesan sitting there by the control panel with headphones over his ears, calmly letting the audio play well past the two minutes mark, seemingly not finding it weird at all that somebody tried to win the campaign with a karaoke rendition of a love song instead of saying a few words. As it turned out, you managed to share your entire recordings folder with the radio team but the club president, instead of playing the file titled campaign_speech_final.mp3, decided that AUD_20230326_192251.mp3 was the right track for your model student image. That week you not only lost that title to the grade’s pretty boy, but you lost your pride as well and it was all Taesan’s fault. Not that he ever thought to apologize or right his wrongdoings. So no, you weren’t looking forward to working with him at all.

He was late.

You had already dotted down six different questions and a rough program outline with your half-finished, now cold rosé pasta lunch menu  on the side by the time Taesan put his tray down on the outdoor table.

“You are late,” you picked at him right away which earned you a rather confused look.

“It’s still lunch hour,” he pointed out and dug into his own kimchi jjigae like he had all the time in the world. His behavior was seriously dancing on your nerves.

“Whatever. Let’s get into it,” you prompted because you didn’t have time to argue about semantics or his attitude. “We should divide the related tasks this week, finalize the questions and gather people for the interviews, then we can start on those next week.”

“What’s the rush? We have months until graduation,” Taesan questioned and while he was right (or because), you had the sudden urge to strangle him right there. You forced yourself to stay calm.

“Well, I don’t like to leave things to the last minute. Closer to graduation, we will be busy with the exams and college applications anyway.”

“As if you don’t already have everything prepared,” he muttered absentmindedly, scooping more kimchi on his spoon, eating without a care.

You pursed your lips, annoyed. You needed to remind yourself again that you had no time nor the energy to argue with him if you wanted to get this discussion done before your upcoming English class.

“Khm… so we can agree on splitting the interviews between us, right? You interview your classmates and I will do mine. We just need a common question sheet,” you said, tapping the end of your pen on the table.

Whether it was the repetitive sound or your words, it managed to get Taesan’s attention. He looked up from his food and leaned forward on his elbows, his dark eyes sharpening their focus on you.

“How would you record the interviews?” He asked, simply yet you had a feeling it was a tricky question.

“On my phone?” You furrowed your brows. Wasn’t it obvious? How else did he expect you to do it?

“That won’t be good. We would have a huge difference in audio quality. So unless you are fine with that, you need proper equipment. I can borrow a portable mic from the radio club, but I’m not trusting you with that.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyes widened in disbelief but Taesan didn’t elaborate on his reason. Ridiculous. He was just looking for faults in your ideas.

You let out a huff of frustration.

“Are you that desperate that we work together?”

“It’s called professionalism, miss class president,” he taunted you, looking completely serious. “I don’t want to broadcast anything under my name that’s just ‘good enough’.”

“Do you now?” You snorted and rolled your eyes. As if it wasn’t him who played your singing for the entire school. Where was his professionalism then? Who was he to lecture you about it? But okay, you could be the bigger person if he was so freaking stubborn. “Fine. We can do the interviews together with your fancy mic. These are the initial questions I thought of.”

You slid your open notebook towards him with questions about what they used to dream of becoming as a kid, what they want to be now, what colleges and majors they considered as well as their most memorable moment at the school and what they would tell their younger selves or their underclassmen. Taesan furrowed his brows as he was reading through the draft, probably dissecting each of your questions like a poor lab rat but eventually didn’t say anything. You raised a brow at him when your eyes met and he just shrugged.

“Sounds good to me,” he said which didn’t really added value but at least he didn’t find something to pick on in everything you did.

The rest of the discussion went easier as it was obvious that he would be the editor and you would organize the interviews. You were already mentally preparing a survey to send out to the students via the group chats you usually used for class president duties to see when they would be free to conduct the interview among the slots you offered. Taesan wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about the hectic and busy scheduling in the upcoming weeks but eventually agreed to get it over with within two months tops. He must have realized too that the earlier you finished with this project, the sooner the two of you could part ways.

You had the first batch of interviews at the end of next week. After ruling out inconvenient locations, you ended up with the obvious option: doing the recordings in the school radio clubroom. You were against it at first because the last time you had been there you faced public humiliation, whispers behind your back for weeks about your singing and messed up campaign, but objectively speaking you knew it was the most reasonable choice, so you bit the bullet.

You arrived ahead of time, of course, but you were quite surprised that Taesan was already there too, setting up who-knows-what on the professional equipment. He looked up when the door opened, the sun hitting the side of his face, giving it a natural warm glow, a stark contrast to the coldness he often radiated. He acknowledged your presence with a nod then went back to his work, so you just put your stuff down next to the round table in the middle of the room and got ready with your nicely printed questionnaire.

For the most part, the interviews went well, the students showed up more or less on time for their own slot, Taesan let you do the talking, merely letting you know when a recording started or ended. It all started going down when the last interviewee for the day didn’t show up. After five minutes passed, you texted Wonyoung asking politely whether she forgot the interview but she didn’t answer. Ten more minutes of awkward silence while Taesan was playing (or texting, you couldn’t tell) on his phone, you tried calling her but with no success. You started getting restless and frustrated.

“She could have at least told us if she wasn’t going to come,” you muttered more to yourself than anything when your next call went to the voicemail as well. It was such a waste of time just waiting.

“Why do you always assume the worst of people? Maybe something happened and she can’t make it. She could be too sick to care about you blowing up her KakaoTalk,” Taesan looked up from his phone and there was something in his eyes that made you feel like you were in the wrong, like you were a sulky child because generally it wasn't like you were always this pessimistic about people, but before you could have argued, Taesan sighed. “You can go. I can interview her if she shows up until 6.”

Well, you could have taken his word and left. Wonyoung was his classmate and he probably didn’t have anything better to do anyways. There was a set list of questions and not much to mess up. But just as he didn’t want you to handle his beloved mic alone, you didn’t want to leave it to him alone. So you just stubbornly held his gaze, trying to come up with a more profound reason when the clubroom’s door opened and Wonyoung stepped inside in the cheerleading squad’s PE clothes.

“Sorry. Practice got delayed. Thanks for waiting for me,” she panted and Taesan sent you a ‘told you so’ look which made you want to commit atrocities. You hated not being right and even more to be reminded of it.

“It’s okay. Catch your breath,” you turned to the girl with a reassuring smile but you were undeniably relieved when you could finally bid goodbye to her and pack up. It was getting late.

However, when you saw that Taesan was still saving the audio files and uploading them to your shared cloud folder, then putting away the recording device and the mic, you stalled around the door, feeling inconsiderate to leave earlier.

“Just go,” the boy muttered gently when he noticed your hesitation and you didn’t need to be told twice.

On your way to the bus stop, you stopped by at your favorite corner convenience store for some banana milk and almost missed your bus but luckily the driver saw you running and stopped.

“Thank you,” you bowed to the middle aged man who just mumbled something about youngsters these days, then tapped your transportation card against the sensor before looking for a place to sit.

Since it was past the rush hour, there were quite a few empty seats but there was one next to a familiar face close to the door. He had put on a hoodie over his uniform and had his head against the window, eyes closed but you would have easily recognized his long ass limbs everywhere. With the taste of your hurt pride still fresh on your tongue you walked past him, sitting down in the very back, only checking on Taesan a few times to see if he managed to wake up in time to get off at his stop.

Even without the interview project, senior year was busy. You felt like your days were piles of classes, homework, mock tests, real tests, tutoring and studying. Sometimes you memorized English vocabulary or dates for History class even during your lunch breaks or on bus rides because that way you could make the most out of your time. Some might have argued that you took it too seriously but if you wanted to get into the top universities of the country, you had to.

No wonder you spent the two hours you had between classes and tutoring on Friday in the library too, working on your Literature essay. It was kind of boring and you had a long week; you justified your frequent yawns and slow blinking. You didn’t even notice when you slipped into a dreamless sleep, not until you woke up with your head over your folded arms on the table.

As you were still in the haze, instead of panicking that you might have missed your tutoring class, you slowly blinked yourself back into consciousness and the first thing you saw was a pair of eyes.

The boy sitting at the table next to yours was looking at you with something akin to the mix of concern and amusement but you were too busy committing the lovely almond shape and chocolate brown shade of his eyes to your memory to be bothered by it.

Then the realization hit you like a truck because it was no other than Han freaking Taesan.

Oh, did he always have such pretty eyes?

Realizing that you were staring, you quickly turned your gaze away, sat up properly and fixed your messy hair while mentally reprimanding yourself for letting your sleepiness take too much control over you.

You hastily checked the time on your watch, sighing in relief that you only napped for about 15 minutes, so you still had time to finish what you were doing. Which was…? Ah, right, your essay.

You cleared your throat as you focused back on your homework, pretending not to be hyper aware of every chair creaking or pen against paper scribbling sound coming from the table on your left.

The next batch of interviews were scheduled a week later and you did everything in your power to avoid Taesan, hoping that he would forget that embarrassing little encounter you had in the library. Not like he was looking for you either but now that you have become more aware of his presence, you suddenly noticed him everywhere. He wasn’t just the subject of your classmates’ talks and an annoying voice from the radio anymore, he was in the canteen, on your regular bus, on the corridor between classes. Really, you wondered if it was your mind’s self-sabotaging doing or you just managed to ignore him previously. Since you tended to be laser focused on what to do, often walking by people you know without recognizing them, it wouldn’t have surprised you that much.

Still whenever you saw him, he was usually alone if not with juniors from the radio club, so you were a bit taken aback (and you weren’t sure you were hiding it well) when a bunch of his friends from his class were already in the clubroom by the time you got there. The door was left ajar, so you could hear Jungwon’s bubbly laughter and Gyuvin teasing Taesan for ‘working oh so diligently’. They all fell silent when you pushed the door open wider and suddenly their attention was on you. Leehan patted Taesan’s upper back with a grin and muttered something about ‘boss lady is here’ which earned him a glare.

“We will be on our best behavior,” Jungwon saluted with a promise when it turned out they booked the first three slots of the session on purpose, so they could sit through each other’s interviews. While you interviewed people by themselves, since the entire school would hear the edited version anyways, you supposed it couldn’t be a problem if they really did behave. They were friends after all, if they wanted to share them why not?

Them chuckling at some parts of each other’s answers or whisper-shouted hollering about future ambitions was a bit distracting but nothing seriously annoying. You could only hide your laugh with burying your face in your hands when Gyuvin recited a freshmen memory as his most memorable with a prank that ended with the four of them becoming friends. Apparently the day before the first term’s end, right on the edge of the summer holiday, Taesan had brought soap dispenser-shaped water guns into the PE changing rooms, so whenever somebody just tried to wash their hand, they got wet. It shouldn’t have been funny since it was rather childish, but glancing at the always stern and intimidating Taesan and seeing him smile at the memory turned it into something lovely even if it ended with the four of them arguing about whose was the best prank out of all the ones they did over the years.

It was truly one of a kind to see Taesan interact with his friends, people he felt comfortable around. He suddenly became talkative and loud yet warm and gentle when he scolded Gyuvin like an Asian mom for falling asleep at Miss Lee’s class again but promised to send him his notes once he got home.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged when he caught you red-handed watching him still after he literally pushed his friends out of the door.

Despite witnessing this side of him, if you wanted to be honest, it didn’t quite sit right with you that he was friends with Kim Leehan. The popular boy might not have ever rubbed salt into your wounds by reminding you that he was chosen as the model student representative of the school instead of you who was the grade’s academically best student, the defeat still hurt. You didn’t like to lose in general. So while you knew it was a far-stretched idea, your mind couldn’t stop coming up with scenarios to prove that Taesan sabotaged your campaign speech on purpose to help his friend and it made you irritable and restless during the rest of the interview sessions.

When you were finally alone, it made you blurt out:

“Was it a prank too?”

Taesan froze mid-movement when you spoke up. He was doing the finishing touches, getting ready to leave as it was just the two of you. He slid the headphones, which he used to make sure the recording quality was good, down around his neck.

“What?” He furrowed his brows, visibly confused and you weren’t surprised, he had probably long forgotten how he had humiliated you.

“My model student speech last year,” you said, your nails digging into your palms, bitterness sweeping into your features.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the boy claimed, firm in his standpoint which made you snort.

“Of course, you don’t,” you muttered, then grabbed your bag and walked out of the door before you would say something you would regret.

A part of you thought that Taesan would ignore you the way you ignored him, especially after your callout (or whatever he wanted to call it), so it took you aback when the opposite happened.

As a class president you often had to help the homeroom teacher. It was nothing out of the ordinary when he called you into the teachers’ room and gave you a box of university application help books to hand out in class. It wasn’t really heavy but there was no proper handle on the box, so you had to hold it against your chest and it made it hard to see the stairs in front of your feet as you walked up to the classroom.

Students came and went both ways around you, nobody really paying attention to you struggling not to fall and you let out a little sigh of relief when you reached the first landing of the staircase without tripping. You adjusted your grip on the big brown box and was about to go on when the box crashed into somebody’s chest… or more like, stomach.

“Sorry, I…”

You were about to apologize automatically when you saw Taesan standing in front of you, very clearly on purpose. However, before you could have told him to move out of your way, he did the unthinkable: he easily took the box out of your hands, his knuckles brushing against your open palms as he did so.

“Hey! Give it back!” You reached out for the box again once you snapped out of your stupor but the boy’s hold on it was too strong.

“Stop being so stubborn for once,” he said, his quiet, deep voice washing over you in waves and then you could barely do anything but watch him turn around and walk up the stairs with ease, the box in his hands and his bag thrown over one of his shoulders.

You shuffled after him a bit awkwardly, halfway torn between being grateful because out of all people in the school only him was considerate enough to offer help and being offended and angry because what if he only did so because he pitied you now that he knew that you still held grudges over what happened last year.

That became a smaller worry though as you realized he was heading straight towards your classroom and you didn’t even want to guess the rumors starting if even just one gossipy girl saw him help you. You grew more anxious the closer you got but Taesan’s steps halted right before he got to the door. You almost bumped into his back at the sudden pause.

“Here,” he turned to you with the box that you took gingerly, making sure you didn’t touch this time.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, actually meaning it but you couldn’t tell with Taesan’s low hum and light on his feet disappearance if he believed you or not.

The third week of interviews went without a glitch. You were almost done which also added to your good mood. One less thing to worry about, one less to-do during your already busy weeks.

Taesan stayed behind in the clubroom this time too, hunching over the computer setup with the headphones on like always but for the first time you said bye. Or well your version of it.

“Don’t stay too late,” you told him loud enough, so he could hear you through the headphones but turned on your heels before you could have seen his reaction.

It was a good day, you decided. You got praised by your Literature teacher for your essay on the themes of social class and Confucian values in your recent obligatory read. The interviews went smoothly and the corner CU had a 1+1 promotion for your favorite banana milk. You even caught the bus just in time, getting on the vehicle after two giggling students. It was busier now than usual because lots of students had to stay longer in preparation for the Freshmen Open Day.

Apologies falling from your lips, you made your way through the crowd in the front of the bus and looked for a seat in the back. That’s where you caught sight of Taesan with his bag on the seat next to him and when your eyes met, he pulled his stuff into his lap. You hesitated for a moment but that was pretty much the only place left and it would have been more awkward if you didn’t take it. So you dropped the ignoring act, swung your bag to your front and sat down, drumming with your fingers on your knees. The bus departed from the stop and took a turn, the silence between the two of you becoming louder than the chatter around you.

You unzipped your bag and pulled out the banana milk bottles you just bought and held one out towards Taesan. The boy turned his head towards you, his dark eyes unsure and… was that blush on his cheeks? Your hands touched when he took the bottle from you, sending little tingles over your skin.

“Wanna listen?” He held out one of the earbuds of his wired earphone that he always seemed to have with him. So old-fashioned, so cool.

You felt shy as you looked him in the eye because it was like sharing something intimate. Still, you took the audio device and put it inside your right ear, smiling as the unfamiliar beats of a slower western song played. You pierced through the lid of the banana milk with your straw and hid your smile behind your drink when you saw Taesan do the same.

Maybe you were just warming up to each other after weeks of working together but it gave you the push you needed to ask about what you were listening to and it started a whole monologue about the kind of music Taesan liked and how his father introduced it to him. Honestly, he listened to a lot of bands you heard of but couldn’t really associate songs with and quite a few you hadn’t even heard about. You didn’t mind though, you liked listening to him talk about it, watching him gesture and slur his words when he got excited. It was a lovely side of him.

The bus ride never felt so short.

That one conversation and shared banana milk somehow led to daily song recommendations from the boy. He was always curious about your opinion even if you didn’t like it. Soon enough he could guess pretty accurately if you would like a song or not, so he even created a Spotify playlist just for you that he updated frequently. This turn of events was surely unexpected but not at all bad.

You also got to know that he would have liked to study sound engineering in university and you told him about your own ambitions and why it was so important for you to have near perfect grades and all those achievements. Belatedly you realized that you had never told anybody how much impact it had on you that you were constantly compared to your cousins.

It was a new side of Taesan you got to know, a side he didn’t show to just anybody and you realized it was the same with you. You hated showing weakness in front of others, yet it wasn’t too bad to admit to him that you tended to be judgemental with people because nobody had really been patient with you either before labeling you this or that.

But texting over the phone was one thing, you weren’t sure it would change anything in person. Sure, you had been seen together due to the interview project but that would be over soon. Not to mention you really didn’t want to deal with high school gossip in your last school year. And yet, you couldn’t help but look for Taesan whenever you were in the school canteen or near his clubroom. You caught yourself anticipating the radio announcements just to hear his voice. It was pathetic really, how fast you went from finding it annoying and purposefully ignoring him to waiting to see him.

Your heart did a little somersault when you actually saw him in the library one afternoon and only when you walked closer did you notice that he wasn’t just leaning over his papers but he was sleeping soundly, his pencil still in his hand, his textbook getting wrinkled under his weight. Briefly you wondered whether you should have looked for another place since Taesan must have chosen this corner table far in the back to have some peace but you would have liked to believe that he wouldn’t have minded you joining. After all, he waved to you casually like you were friends when you ran into each other on the corridors earlier that day.

Eventually, you pulled out the chair on the other side of the table and quietly put your study material down. You squinted at the books and printed papers around Taesan recognizing them as advanced Maths exercises on trigonometry. While you were trying to see if it was a sheet you had already done, something else caught your eyes instead. The light reflected on the silver bands around Taesan’s index and ring fingers down to the similar thin, metal bracelet he wore. You had never noticed that he wore accessories but you had never really paid attention to what he was wearing either (except his unmade tie). Or maybe due to the long sleeved uniform you couldn’t even notice it but now that he had his sleeves rolled up and arms outstretched, you couldn’t help but notice how long and elegant fingers he had, unfairly nice for a guy.

Taesan suddenly exhaled sharply which made you act on impulse. You leaned back in your chair and looked down at your randomly opened book just in case he woke up. However, his quiet sleeping noises soon returned to normal, so you deemed it safe to look up. You let out a relieved sigh when you saw his eyes still closed, his eyelashes casting a light shadow over his cheekbones. Dark strands of hair fell softly over his eyes and you weren’t sure what came over you but maybe all those silly romance dramas were right when they thought girls couldn’t stop themselves from brushing a boy’s fringe out of his eyes just once in their life. But just as you reached out, Taesan straightened his back and yawned like a cat, stretching his arms towards the sky. He blinked himself awake slowly but he froze the moment he noticed you right in front of him.

To make the situation less awkward for both of you, you smiled at him as casually as you could (which wasn’t much thanks to your racing heartbeat but still, you tried) and turned to your book, flipping to the correct page you wanted to review. From the corner of your eyes, you saw Taesan fix his clothes and sit up properly before arranging his rumpled papers to continue the Maths exercises. He must have been stuck on a problem though because he kept sighing and going back to the same page in the workbook. After his sixth or so frustrated sound, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“What are you stuck on? Maybe I can help,” you spoke up, closing your own book, so he would see your focus was on him.

“It’s fine,” he dismissed your offer so fast that you could tell he didn’t even think about it. You were sure because that was what you tended to do too: claiming you could handle everything on your own. But still, sometimes wasn’t it nice to receive help? Like how he had helped you with that box?

“Okay, then what about explaining it to me?” You changed your strategy because sometimes even that much could help: offering a listening ear. Maybe he could realize the mistake he was making in the equation while telling you about it.

You didn’t even think about it, you just stood up and walked to Taesan’s side of the table, sitting down next to him, leaning closer to see his scratchy handwriting and the calculations he had been doing. You might have blushed when you realized just how close you were but you refused to show it. You took studying seriously after all. So you looked the boy in the eye with a challenge in yours until he gave in.

Four minutes later he found the trigonometric identity he used incorrectly.

After sharing songs through texts and studying together at the library, the next thing that became a routine for the two of you was visiting the corner convenience store whenever you left the school together. When it first happened, Taesan claimed he needed to buy something too but he was looking around in the snack aisle suspiciously long (you missed your usual bus that day), so the next time you told him that you would catch up to him at the bus stop, he didn’t need to come with you. But more often than not, he went along with you anyways and ended up buying candies or chocolate bars. When you told Taesan about your go-to emotional support banana milk reminding you of your childhood, he told you that he wasn’t really into sweet things, so he bought all these snacks for his younger siblings. One time he bought a pack of four cream milk breads just for the freebie Pokémon toy that came with it because his little sister liked that character. It made you coo internally.

It wasn’t always just the two of you though. One day you were going over the English vocabulary with Jihan from your class in the library when Taesan and Jungwon walked in and took the desk next to you, eventually joining the English quiz. Another time Leehan needed to stay after school too because of his model student representative duties (a photoshoot for the Freshmen Open Day brochures apparently and suddenly you weren’t so sulky that you didn’t get the title) and he decided to tag along when he saw Taesan and you head over to the nearby CU.

“Ah, senior year is really hell. Everyone’s so busy we barely have time to hangout after school anymore,” he justified himself while throwing an arm around Taesan’s shoulder. “Jungwon told me you went to the library to study the other day. Since when do you do that? I thought you said being around so many people is distracting.”

You still heard Leehan’s voice as they disappeared into the snack aisle with the purpose of getting jellies and you walked forward to the refrigerated section, trying not to think too much into it. Maybe senior year changed Taesan’s mind, maybe he found the presence of others motivating now. Or maybe he just wanted to spend more time with you. The thought alone made you shy.

You were on schedule with the interviews and soon only the intro and outro as well as your own parts were missing. You wrote a script for the introduction and ending which Taesan improved with his experience of radio shows at school. You argued about whether your version with the ‘high school memories forever staying with you’ sentiment was too cringy or his ‘it’s only the beginning’ version was too vague but this time there was no harshness in your voice, there were no grudges held, it was only friendly banter as you went back and forth with arguments supporting your own ideas.

Eventually you managed to find a common ground, mentioning both the importance of keeping one’s high school memories as a reminder of their formative years and youth as well as being ready for what was coming. It was not even a question that it would be recorded by Taesan because he really had a nice voice and while you tried to stay professional and pay attention to his pronunciation and the flow of the speech rather than him, you failed miserably. Luckily, Taesan had enough radio experience to know exactly what to do. He introduced the segment with ease and charm, captivating the audience (you, for now) and you had to clear your throat to focus when he finished reading.

“We can start the interview with me,” you said, eager to get on with the tasks before Taesan could call you out on your behavior. He must have known your reason for the sudden change of attitude though because he smiled to himself, quiet but obvious about it, as he held the microphone out for you and hit record.

You knew all the questions by heart but still you waited for the boy to ask before you answered.

“When I was young, I wanted to have my own karaoke room. There was one on the basement floor in the building where I used to live and the owner auntie always gave me homemade honey biscuits. She seemed to be so joyful humming songs happily,” you said at the first question, glancing in Taesan’s direction briefly.

He must have been surprised – you were too –, because it wasn’t the model student-like answer everybody was expecting of you like saying your dream had always been to become a doctor or lawyer. Honestly, you had your own answers prepared and memorized ever since the questions for the student interviews were finalized and approved by your teachers. But looking back at it now, you felt embarrassed because even though it was just an interview, it wasn’t graded or judged, yet you had felt obligated to answer according to what other people would think of you. However, in the recent weeks as you got to know Taesan better, you realized that people would judge others without reason, without knowing them, even you. So you shouldn’t have changed your whole personality just so you would fit into this image they had of you. Even if it was about your parents’ or teachers’ expectation or your classmates calling you the teacher’s pet behind your back. You had been okay with the prejudices since high school was just one step in your foolproof plan to lead a successful life, you had been okay without building deep connections with other students because you had known that you would drift away after graduation anyways but only lately you realized that you could have had fun while also working hard. You could be yourself and let people closer. The world wasn’t going to crumble, it wouldn’t ruin your plans. You could be honest, both with yourself and others, because what was the worst thing that could happen? That they would judge you? They are doing it anyway, so it didn't matter.

“And now? Now I’m applying for business majors. I’ m not sure what exactly I would like to do with my life but I will get there. Who knows, maybe one day I will open a karaoke room, too,” you chuckled even though your ambitions were to build a bigger company, something creative and useful. You still had time to figure out the details.

In the beginning of the term you would have felt vulnerable sharing these about yourself in front of Taesan or the entire school because everybody expected you to know what you want to do with your life but now, it felt okay. You actually felt lighter, relieved. Especially because there was nothing akin to judging in Taesan’s eyes as he smiled at you from the other side of the table.

“Please tell us about your most memorable high school memory,” he recited the last question after you went over all the others.

Previously, you would have said it was being chosen as a class president because it was an honor and a proof of hard work but now, your academic achievements didn’t seem that important. What will you really remember when you will be older and think back on high school?

“Honestly, senior year so far has had some unexpected surprises, it’s hard to choose just one but maybe this one. Now,” you and me, just the two of us in the radio club room, being vulnerable yet not being judged. “I like the person I have been becoming ever since this senior interview project started and I think it's going to be a great memory one day.”

Silence embraced you as you finished talking, a bit nervous but without regrets. Taesan pressed a button and the recording stopped, ready to be saved.

“So karaoke room, huh?” He asked and you kicked his shin under the table for that teasing grin on his face.

“Your turn,” you reminded him as you passed the mic and adjusted the headphones around your ears. By then, over so many interviews you were sure Taesan knew what was coming too but just for the show you asked him about his dream job as a child versus now as well as his higher education plans.

“Becoming a musician was my childhood dream. My entire family loves music, many of us play an instrument, so it felt natural,” Taesan said and even though you didn’t know this, it wasn’t hard to imagine given his love for music and all that knowledge about genres and classics. “After I joined the radio club, I realized that I like it a lot despite the fact that here we don’t usually play music. So it would be cool to be a radio DJ on a music show one day but I’m interested in the technology behind it all, that’s why I will study sound engineering.”

You smiled to yourself because you had already known that latter part and it felt nice knowing you had come so far. After a few more answers, you got to the last question about his most memorable moment and Taesan’s feline eyes turned mischievous.

“Hm, a fierce girl yelling my head off during a live school radio radio–”

“Yah, be serious!” You interrupted him when you realized he was talking about what happened last year but your voice was more amused than scolding.

“I am serious,” Taesan claimed but there was a teasing tilt in his mouth. “It’s pretty memorable.”

“So you’re saying I was the only girl interrupting you during a broadcast? Shocking,” you raised a brow at him, a small part of you feeling triumphant about the fact that in a way you were special even if your first actual meeting didn’t have the best circumstances. Thank god that his microphone wasn’t on when you showed up and straight up started questioning him. “Also, just to clarify I wasn't yelling. I just expressed my bewilderment about why you were playing that audio.”

“That was the only one under your name.”

“What?” You blinked, confused at Taesan’s quick response. He sounded like he meant it but you knew that couldn’t have been true, they got access to your entire recording folder accidentally. So if he didn’t see that, it meant he wasn’t the one checking their emails.

“To make sure things are running smoothly, we always have a script about our broadcasts and all the audio files are organized in linear order in a folder for that day. I just played what was prepared for me,” he explained and gosh, you felt so stupid.

All this time you thought he had been the one who chose the wrong file on purpose maybe to help his friend, maybe to just have a good laugh but it made sense that his juniors were more likely the ones doing such preparatory work.

“But still, you could have stopped it instead of just letting it play,” you muttered, trying to justify your reaction.

“Well, at first I thought it was actually a pretty unique tactic and then…” Taesan scratched his nape and looked away, then shrugged as if he just convinced himself to tell you something that might be embarrassing. “To be honest, I just liked your singing.”

At his words you felt the tip of your ears burn and heat spreading all over your cheeks. You were glad that the lighting in the room hid it well.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You found yourself asking quietly because thinking back you weren’t exactly nice to him.

Taesan gave you a look. Okay, true, you didn’t really give him a chance to explain before antagonizing him. And then it must have been weird to just bring it up.

“Right. Um, sorry,” you mumbled, embarrassed due to your too quick judgment but the boy just shook his head as if he had never been mad at the injustice in the first place. “About your answer though, you have to cut it out.” 

Obviously with 60 people answering 6 questions, not everything would make it into the final cut, it would be more of a montage of answers, a glimpse of the seniors’ lives and you didn’t want to be reminded of that incident in front of the entire school. Not again.

“Nope,” Taesan protested, popping the ‘p’ sound, teasing just to be difficult.

“I’m deleting it,” you warned him but you seriously miscalculated several things: there was no way you could have reached the computer before him and with him standing in front of the monitor and keyboard you didn’t see anything. You tried to get hold of the mouse at the same time as looking over the boy’s shoulder but he made sure that he was always in the way which somehow turned into a one sided (struggle) wrestle match and honestly at that point you weren’t even trying to achieve anything and both of you just laughed at your poor attempts.

“Am I interrupting something?” Spoke up a newcomer you didn’t even notice. Sullyoon, another radio club member from the year, stood by the door visibly surprised to see you or well the current situation you were in: Taesan leaning against the desk in front of the computer and you pretty much plastered over him, trying to reach something behind his back.

“No!” You objected vehemently and took two steps back, stumbling a bit. Taesan reached out to steady you by the forearm and only after he made sure you wouldn’t fall did he turn to the girl from his club.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just forgot my buju here,” Sullyoon got over her surprise too and quickly retrieved the prettily decorated journal from one of the shelves. You watched her go and then buried your face in your hands because of embarrassment.

“Emotional support banana milk?” Taesan prompted after he saved the files and turned the computer off.

You smiled at him and followed him out closely. If you were any better off, you would have teased him about his flushed face but instead you just made him race you to the convenience store, so both of you would have an excuse if anyone asked about your red cheeks.

Now that all interviews were done, only the editing was left from the project and while you could have left it all to Taesan since he did the actual editing, you were there keeping him company all through it. First of all, you listened to all the raw material and decided which answers to include from each interviewee in the final cut and then you could help out when he needed a second opinion on the order or cut parts or whether the transition was smooth or not. When he was deep in the concentration mode, you just did homework or studied for upcoming tests. It took three sessions to finish it (you had to force Taesan to get his ass out of school during the second one because he was determined to finish it which past you would have appreciated but not even this project was worth losing proper meal schedule or sleep over it) and when you listened to the final version you were proud of what you had done, together.

“Should we celebrate?” You suggested once the file was sent to the principal and his secretary. You finished it pretty much on schedule and yet, you weren't as relieved as you thought you would be when you had first started it. But still, it was an achievement and you liked to celebrate small wins like this because if you didn't, who else would?

You meant it as in going out to eat something good. For example, in the tent restaurant two streets down the auntie was selling the best tteokbokki you had ever tried. But Taesan had his own idea.

“What about karaoke?”

“Yah! Stop teasing!” You glared at him but you weren't actually mad, it started to turn into a private joke between the two of you.

“I’m not!” The boy insisted and all it took was his almost pout to convince you.

There were karaoke rooms on pretty much every other street in this neighborhood, so it wasn't hard to find one where you booked a room for an hour and bought snacks and drinks at the counter from the girl who looked like a bored university student.

You usually went to sing with a small group of girls from your class, so it was the first time that it was just you and a boy. And not just any boy but Han Taesan. Somehow it felt more special. Sure, he might have already heard you sing and said that he liked it, but you were shy, so you insisted that he would pick a song first. He chose Dean's 21 and totally nailed it, the karaoke machine's high score proving that you weren't just biased when you told him that. You had already liked his speaking voice but when he sang, oh boy! You could have listened to him for hours.

You went with a girl group song you were confident in and it was fun. Song after song you both hyped each other up and the one hour passed by quickly. A part of you wished you could just pay for one more and sing until your voice became hoarse but the rational part knew that you shouldn't have stayed out too late. You still had homework to do and Taesan needed to memorize those English words for tomorrow's test.

It was the same T side of you that went a bit ahead of you and started thinking about the midterms and then how busy you would get once summer ended and the last term rolled around. It was still months away and yet, you wondered if it took that much for you to drift apart or the end of this interview project would be enough. You were a bit scared to know the answer, just how you were scared to answer Jihan's question the other day when she saw you walk to class together with Taesan. Admitting out loud that you liked him would have made it real and it would have made you vulnerable. You weren't sure you were ready to do that but it was certain that you didn't want to lose him.

“Taesan…” You spoke up quietly, swinging your feet back and forth on the bench in the bus stop after you spent the walk from the karaoke room to the stop in silence, lost in thought. The boy turned his head towards you, his fringe getting into his eyes, messy and beautiful. Your heart ached with the certainty only first love could. “Now that the radio segment is ready, will we go back to how we were?” You asked barely in a whisper as if speaking louder would have had its consequences. That was also why you had to rush to clarify. “Because I don’t want that. I… I would miss you too much.”

You didn’t mean to say it like that and it was a scary thing to admit but it was worth all the extra beats of your heart to see Taesan smile, a shy little thing stretching slowly from one side to another, his eyes sparkling under the moonlight and street lamps’ glow.

“Me too,” he said and you reciprocated his smile. There was a short pause, an inhale of the universe waiting, then Taesan called your name and you looked up immediately.

“Hm?”

He looked you in the eyes with those dark oceans of his. Once you associated them with the cold depth of the sea but since then you realized that you were wrong. You knew only a few people who had warmer souls than this boy.

“You are my most memorable high school memory for a reason,” he whispered like it was a secret and a promise at the same time.

It left you speechless a moment too long and the bubble around you burst when the bus pulled up in front of you with a loud screeching sound. Taesan was quick on his feet but instead of getting on the bus right away, he looked back at you and held a hand out for you. You blamed it on not having time to think about it with the bus driver yelling at you impatiently and took it, following the boy onto the vehicle and to your usual place in the back with a smile on your face and a new rhythm in your heart.

Taesan didn't let go of your hand during the entire ride. As you closed your eyes and listened to the music he put on, you hoped he wouldn’t let go for a long time.

[gay-dorito-dust]

in journal 3 ford got hit on his forehead by a “vampire” bat if it actually was a vampire bat & he got turned how would he react? Would he hide from his s/o or just ignore the elephant in the room. Tbh i want your thoughts on how this scenario would play out cus everything u write is awesome. (If you do write for this could it be with enby reader with they/them pronouns? Thank u if u write this in advance have a lovely day/afternoon/night!!! (≧◡≦) ♡ )

I think there are instances in journal three where it’s hinted that Ford had tried/experimented with human blood or something of a similar nature. So it’s not out of the realm of possibility that Ford has to fight back his new…urges.

Ford knew something was wrong after his encounter with a vampire bat, he had gotten hit but he didn’t think much about the hit until he noticed subtle differences within him from moments prior.

He could smell the faintest of smells, hear the smallest of sounds amongst silence, and so much more that it was almost overwhelming for him to understand because of how much was happening simultaneously; almost as if his sense were cranked up to eleven and put into overdrive.

Ford even felt stronger, less fatigue and bodily aches, as though he wasn’t in the body of a 60 something year old senior citizen. Yeah he did try to keep himself healthy as possible but age catches up to everyone regardless of their dietary preferences, it was only natural for all humans, and yet here he felt as though he was transported into a body thirty years younger then he actually was.

It unnerved him a little to say the least but unfortunately Ford couldn’t act upon his fright as he could hear you call for him from the shack, which was a good couple of feet away, but his heightened hearing made it seem as though you were right in front of him with how crisp you sounded in his ears; almost like a melody carried upon the winds to greet him from a hard day.

Yet your voice wasn’t the only thing he could hear, but Ford could also hear your heart at it hard at work in keeping blood flowing throughout your entire body. Such an innocent sound was yet enough to bring up a visceral urge within Ford that blossomed within his chest, brining forth an almost animalistic hunger to test just how delicious you’d taste.

Ford had to force himself to blink out of the haze he has found himself under the moment he heard you call, forcing himself to calm down and ignore the ache to act upon this urge, however he didn’t wish to worry you or let you suspect something was wrong with him at least not until he figured out what he was undergoing first. So when he was close enough you brought him in to a tight, welcoming hug like you always did whenever he came back from his recent anomaly hunts.

‘Welcome back Ford,’ you said as you pulled away, ‘did you catch that pesky vampire bat?’

Ford however was once again lost in the haze from before as a devilish voice within his head told him, no encouraged him to tempt the taste of human flesh, of human blood and end the curiosity that lingered within his head of how you’d taste in comparison to others. This voice and urge blocked everything else out within his head as his eyes honed on your bared neck, swearing to himself that he could see your pulse move beneath the skin, the action wasn’t anything to behold at; and yet it was still enough to have Ford’s breath come out a little uneven as his pupils were blown wide open from behind his frames.

His prolonged silence scared you as your smile faded. ‘Ford?’ You asked softly.

He blinks twice. ‘Yes my dear?’

The feeling of unease didn’t fade from you, if anything it lingered in the air between you as your mind suspected that something had happened to Ford during his hunt, something that had altered him somehow in ways you could’ve understand and it was beginning to worry you. However you only smiled at him in hopes that you could safely get down to his lab later on tonight and consult the journal about his…change in habits should you catch them through observation.

‘I said did you catch that vampire bat.’ You reiterated as you squeezed his hand, feeling your stomach drop when you felt just how cold he had become but steeled yourself as not to raise suspicious within your dearly beloved.

‘It got away, unfortunately. I lost sight of it but I’ll be sure to get it next time.’ Ford replied, instinctively reaching up to rub at his forehead where he had gotten hit by the bat in question, not that you needed to know that but he joked it was good enough to satisfy you for the time being.

‘I’m sure you will fordy, you always do.’ You replied comfortingly as you dragged him into the shack, replaying the image of him rubbing his forehead within your mind along with the intense stare towards your neck, more specifically your pulse point; something was wrong, very, very wrong and suddenly you were thankful that Ford had taught you everything he knew when it came to the supernatural, all in hopes that it would one day save you in the future.

Ford on the other hand thought he had you under the guise that he was okay, that nothing was out of the ordinary either him which he hated doing, but if something was actually going to happen to him he would have to consult the journal later tonight for help. Ford didn’t want you to see him as anything but your lover should anything come to pass and he became something more then human, he wanted you to be safe and as far from him as possible should he take a path of no return.

He knew he couldn’t keep this under wraps for much longer as each second with you was agony, everything within his was screaming at him to drain you do every ounce of blood you held within your body and then some, but he was trying his hardest to resist the temptation, the curiosity and desire to consume you in your entirety.

He didn’t want you to come to harm in any possible way, even if that harm was coming from himself, he didn’t want to be the reason you were in pain or worse and so he’ll try his hardest to conceal this secret form you as long as possible.

But with Halloween coming closer, Ford fears that the truth would come to light for you sooner rather then later but even then he wasn’t quite sure how much he could hold back for before breaking; after all the journal can only help one so far before they were left on their own with a creature of the dark.

[seresinhangmanjake]

It's What You Make It

Dad!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female reader

Summary: Jake hasn't been on the best of terms with his parents since they found out about you and his baby, and now his mother decides she wants to meet her granddaughter.

Warnings: cursing maybe? Protective Jake

Notes: Suggested by an anon / Part of the Oh, Baby Universe.

Words: 4200

-----

“Jake, dear, your mother would like to meet her granddaughter.”

It was cruel, really, to have such devastating words leave the lips of one of those he loved the most, but maybe that was why she of all people was tasked with it. He wasn't likely to listen to another on the matter. Hell, had anyone else but she called, he wouldn't have answered, and he struggled not to see it as a bit of a betrayal. A trick.

"Gram," he sighed into the phone, running a hand through his hair, "I'm not doing this with them. After everything we just faced with her mother, why should we put ourselves through dealing with mine?"

"You know she had nothing to do with that email."

"Yea and nothing to do with discouraging it, either."

The other end of the line went silent. Jake looked to his left where his daughter was being bounced on her mother's lap just out of earshot. You smiled at the girl, but the stone now sitting on Jake's heart kept it from swelling as it normally would at the sight of your brightened face. 

His perfect little family. Safe and sound in California. Far from Texas. Far from the people you'd yet to learn criticized you for your past choices. 

When you first asked about them, Jake couldn't hide the fact that his parents were displeased with the coming of his daughter. He'd blamed it on their lack of open-mindedness to the girl being brought into his life under ‘unique’ circumstances, and while that was in fact a part of it, the bulk of their problems they placed solely in you and not trusting why you bothered to return when you left him to begin with. They buried you under a mountain of their judgment and you were completely unaware. But that was how he wanted to keep it. He wanted you in the dark. Oddly enough, the darkness was where you were safest. And that plan had been working so well, too. You had a healthy understanding of the difficulty of parents, and after the way your mother treated him the month prior you hadn't pressured him for more information on his. 

I only care about the three of us, Jake. As long as we're together, nothing else matters—that's what you'd said. You sealed that promise with a kiss that led to hours in bed full of sex and naps and cuddles and what felt like hundreds of exchanges of 'I love yous'. 

The issue with his parents wasn't brought up again.

And now his grandmother was ruining it. 

"What do you expect of me, Gram?" he asked; the first of his rapid-fire questions. "To bring them there? To subject them to that? You really want me to hurt my girlfriend? My daughter? What even makes you think Mom cares to see Eve? There's no way she admitted—"

"Breathe, dear," she soothed. And Jake did as told, but it didn't make him feel the slightest bit better. "I saw it in her eyes."

He sighed, chest noticeably deflating. "Oh, come on. I love you, Gram, but seriously?"

"Jacob Seresin, you hush," she scolded, her voice raised and tinny through the speaker. "You asked me a question, so listen up."

Jake grumbled, defeated. The senior Eve had that power over him. She was the mother his mother should have been. She taught him plenty and raised him well. He knew how to respect his woman because of his Gram. He treated you the way you deserved because she made sure to instill in him the value of women where his own parents had failed to do. 

So he listened. 

"When I returned from my visit a couple of weeks ago, your mother snuck in the casual question or two whenever your father wasn't around," she explained. "And I told her. Anything she cared to know. That Eve is beautiful and her mother is a stunner." Jake's lips curved upward despite the anxiety building in his chest. "That your girls are perfect. That you are happier than I've ever seen you."

"...And?"

"And she nodded and got a little grin on her face."

Jake waited for more, but it didn't come. His hand rose and fell, smacking against the side of his thigh. "That's your only argument to encourage surrendering the happiness of my family to a couple of snakes?"

"Snakes?" He could practically see the roll of her eyes. "Really, dear?"

"I read you the email."

The email he'd received a few weeks after he got you back and learned of his daughter's existence. The one that spat aggressive levels of disappointment in him, and called you an abundance of names that nearly had him crushing his phone in his palm. The one that expressed very clearly his parents' refusal to acknowledge the woman he loved and his baby as their family.

"No," Jake said as he shook his head. "No, I'm not doing it."

"I'm not saying you have to, dear. I'm just telling you that there is someone else who might want to be a part of your daughter's life. That's more family for Eve to be surrounded by. Another person to love her."

—-

He’d promised her he’d think about it. And while he really wished he could forget her words, they were persistent, nagging, and unwilling to get out of his way; like a damn fly buzzing around his face during all hours of his days and nights. 

His grandmother was wise and she was clever to tap into one of his life’s motivations: to provide his daughter with as much love as possible. Though Eve did have love—from him, from you, his team, his grandmother—the potential for so much more was taken away from her. 

She didn’t see your family. They lived across the country and after the way your mother behaved, you’d pretty much cut her off for the time being. His sister’s husband was in the Air Force, stationed at Aviano in Italy with no set date of return. And his parents had made their opinions clear, so he felt it best to never let you or Eve around them. But doing what he believed was best didn’t stop the guilt of denying Eve her family, of not giving her enough. He thought about Christmas coming up and how she wouldn’t have her grandparents. He thought about the major events in her life to come; the birthdays and school plays, the graduations, and the, hopefully only, wedding. 

Wait, he stopped himself, scratch the wedding. No wedding. How could his daughter possibly have a wedding if she would never be dating to begin with? 

But there was still enough remaining to worry him. 

Jake didn’t want a day to come when Eve looked around the room and wondered why she didn’t have the people in her life that her friends at school did. She deserved everything he could possibly give her, and his grandmother calling to inform him he wasn’t providing that was a stab to the heart. 

“You’re lost.” 

The voice—your voice—was one of two powerful enough to crack the thick shell surrounding his thoughts. 

Your fingers wove through his hair as he focused his vision on your face, letting the fog clear to make out the perfection he saw in each feature. You wiggled on the mattress, inching your body closer to his and he lifted his arm to drape over your waist. 

“What’s going on?” you asked. “You’ve been zoning out for three days.”

He wouldn’t lie to you—never could. And even if he tried, it would be a waste of breath with the way you managed to sniff out untruths like a damn bloodhound. The information he didn’t tell you he always preferred to label as ‘omissions.’ Those could just barely slip by your clever brain. And he’d only ever done it twice; when he’d neglected to spill his hidden love, and when he hadn’t provided you with all the details of his father’s email. Both seemed like good ideas at the time. Necessary. But now…

“According to Gram,” Jake sighed, “my mother wants to meet Eve.”

You tried to control your face, but the ceasing of your nails grazing across his scalp was enough to tell him you were plenty shocked. Likely plenty terrified, too, with the trauma of the last parental interaction.

“Oh.” You blinked once, twice, three times, as your lips parted and sealed and parted again. “So, that means…what? They're fine with everything now?"

"I doubt it, but…" Jake bit the inside of his cheek. Shook his head. “Honey, I’m really not sure.”

“You trust them?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

He didn’t know, not even after three days of thought. He cared about protecting his family, but whether or not introducing his mother to you and his daughter would be a choice he'd come to regret was hard to say. “What do you think we should do?”

“Baby, your family, your decision.”

With a groan, Jake pulled you closer and turned onto his back, settling your body on top of his. 

“But you’re so much smarter than me,” he said, wrapping his arms snuggly around your waist and tilting his chin up for a kiss.

You let him kiss you, despite the weight of the conversation surely causing you as much unease as it was him. You let him kiss you for as long as he wanted. Like you knew just how badly he needed it in that moment. How badly he needed you. 

“You’re no idiot, Jake Seresin," you said when he decided it was fair to let you breathe. "I’ll do whatever you think is best.”

He hummed, pushing some of your hair back behind your shoulder. “Why do you have to be so damn supportive and reasonable?”

You smiled so sweetly. Leaned in closer. 

“Because I trust you," you whispered, letting your lips slowly travel around his face, pressing gentle kisses where you could. "And I believe in you."

You pulled back, locking your eyes with his, and as you stroked his cheek, you said, “Because you’re my teammate, Jake.” 

He let your words soak in—filling him, sating him—before taking a deep inhale through his nose. On the heavy exhale he released a breathy “Fuck.”

You chuckled. “What?”

“It’s just extremely hot when you say shit like that and I am trying to make a decision that really isn’t helped by my dick getting hard.”

He swelled larger in his underwear as he spoke and he could see the very second that mischievous glint took root in your eye.

“Aw," you pouted, slightly grinding your hips into his, making his breath hitch, "Does my man get turned on by commitment?"

His fingers dug into your waist to hold you still, and with a scowl, he said, "You already knew that so quit teasing me."

“Who's teasing?" You asked as you gave him a peck. "You've been distracted for three days, and I miss you. So let me take your mind off it. Then we can get some sleep and talk it over in the morning."

He loved you for that. That you knew him enough to refrain from pushing him in any direction. You knew enough to know when he needed a distraction from the things that most bothered him. 

"Deal," he whispered. Then his fingers tangled in your hair and he pulled your face closer to his. 

—-

It wasn't talked about in the morning. Not that one nor the weeks worth that followed. The distraction Jake had been so thankful for continued to find itself in the forms of wake-up sex, and invigorating work days, and evenings filled with dedicated family time—things he actually cared about. Thinking about what to do with his mother had been bothersome enough that at the first chance to brush it aside, it slipped from his mind without effort. And he didn’t care, just as he didn’t care how his life had completely split after his father sent that email. 

It was a clean severing, like a hot blade through butter, and the two new parts were far from equal. You and his daughter occupied one chunk of his divided world—the larger of the two—and the other chunk was where his parents remained, dwarfed under the shadow of its massive counterpart. It was too easy to let go of that extra bit that was hanging off the end of what was an otherwise perfect life, so he did. 

He didn’t follow up with his grandmother—

A mistake he discovered when his mother walked through the front door of the Hard Deck and disrupted the peace surrounding his little family.

His trio had decided to have lunch with Rooster at the bar well before opening hours, and it was the lack of overlapping voices, clinking glasses, and occasional drunken shouting which allowed for the clicking of heels across hardwood flooring to echo clearly throughout the room. 

Three voices went eerily silent, the only continuous sound being that of Eve shaking her rattle toy, lost in the sweet ignorance of childhood and completely oblivious to the thickness that had just swelled throughout the bar. 

Jake glared at his grandmother who was just off to the side of her daughter-in-law. She stared back, a look of complete innocence on her face until she grew bored with silent standoff and, with a roll of her eyes, made a beeline for you and Eve. She smiled wide, immediately popping the bubble that was holding everyone hostage, to give you a little hug around the shoulders before kissing the top of Eve’s head. 

“Oh, I missed you,” she said as huddled beside the small girl.

Jake stood from the rounded table and crossed his arms over his chest, the movement broadening his shoulders and thickening his muscles, like an animal determined to protect his mate and cub from any predator bold enough to test him. And as far as he was concerned, that was exactly what he was looking at. The woman standing still as a statue twenty feet from him was not someone he recognized anymore. He couldn’t guarantee that her next move would not be in the form of a threat, so he didn’t risk it. 

His mother raised her hand in a wave weakened by uncertainty. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Her voice was meeker than he expected, and she stood less confidently than he’d ever known in his thirty-four years. Her styled hair and perfectly painted nails and carefully applied makeup suddenly seemed unnatural on the woman before him, like an ill-fitting costume hanging off her body with an uneasy facial expression to match. 

“Gram,” Jake began, a deep grit to his tone. He didn’t tear his eyes away from his mother. “What did you do?”

Without glancing her way, Jake knew his grandmother had taken his seat at the table, holding his daughter and likely making silly faces at her as she inserted herself in what was his pleasant weekend.

“You two need to talk,” she said. There was a smile in her voice. A giggle from Eve. “You weren’t going to make the first move, and she was coming either way, so I figured it would be best if I tagged along.”

The crease in Jake’s brow deepened. That was not enough for him. “No warning?”

“Nope. You wouldn’t have agreed.”

He shook his head. His mother still hadn’t moved. 

"Is he here?" Jake finally asked her.

His mother startled at his directness, but she recovered after a moment’s passing and took a step closer that Jake immediately made up by taking a step back. She paused. "Jake—"

"Is he here?" he snapped.

The new silence in the aftermath of his sharp tone was loud, terribly loud, and long-lasting. Painfully so.

"Uh, family?" Rooster suddenly said from behind him. "Why don't we take a little walk on the beach."

Chairs scraped across the floor and Jake couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so thankful for his friend. Rooster was the only other person to know the full truth of what was said about Jake’s girlfriend and daughter, and he undoubtedly felt the storm brewing. A storm he knew Jake wouldn’t want his family to witness. 

No one argued, and as the others made their way outside, you appeared in front of him, breaking the tension of his steady stare. He looked at you, making sure to soften the hard edge in his eyes to soothe the worry in yours, but it didn’t work. His smile was tight-lipped and brief.

"Go with them, Honey," he whispered with a nod toward the door. He took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles before running his thumb over the top of them. "It's ok."

He tried that smile again, but the expression on your face made it known he was no more convincing than before.

With your free hand you cupped his cheek, then you stood up on your toes to press your lips to his—a little token of strength. When you stepped away from him, you snuck a quick look at his mother before you were on your way, following everyone else out the back door onto the beach. 

Only once you were out of his sight did Jake allow his eyes to land back on his mother.

She swallowed hard, her shaky hands clasped in front of her. "She's lovely," she said.

"She is," he replied, crossing his arms once again, stony glare back in place. "Where's Dad?"

Her nerves radiated through the room. He could practically see them—thin wiggly lines emanating from her form. 

"He's on a business trip. He doesn't even know I came. I just wanted to meet them. I'm only here for a couple of days and—"

"What happens when he finds out?” Jake interjected. “He'll lose his mind. He’ll show up here, and he won't walk away without making his point clear when it comes to my girlfriend and baby."

He could feel his voice raising as he continued to speak, but he couldn’t restrain himself. The pure rage he’d been trying to tamp down for months was yanked to the surface now that he was looking directly into the eyes of someone who had no issue insulting you, and therefore, hurting him. 

She said his name again, but the overwhelming combination of her gentle tone and the pain swirling in her irises had tears beginning to coat his own, a stinging at his nose. 

It pissed him off.

"He isn't coming anywhere near them,” Jake practically growled, that internal animal determined to protect his family slipping through the calm demeanor he’d been so close to regaining. “Do you understand me? After the things he said, the things he called her? It's not happening."

His mother nodded. "I understand."

"That little girl is mine. I'm not being tricked into raising someone else's kid!"

"I know, sweetheart,” she said as she attempted a step closer. He flinched but didn’t move away. She took another step. “Gram showed me a picture of her. She looks just like you." 

He frowned at her hint of a smile, at her hand extending his way like to earn the trust of an aggressive puppy. 

"Jake, I'm so sorry,” She near whispered. She was closer than he realized—he blamed it on his blurring vision—and her palm tentatively landed on his forearm. “This is not how I wanted things to be. You’re my son. The woman you love is outside that door and she birthed my granddaughter.” Her fingers lightly squeezed. “The last thing I want is to be alienated from the family you’ve made.”

For what felt like the hundredth time in the last week, Jake didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think right. He felt lost, and the only things capable of bringing him to safety were not within grabbing distance, separated from him by a door that might as well have been a mile away. 

Another palm met his other forearm and his arms were carefully untwined. One of his hands was sandwiched between two smaller ones. He couldn’t decide if it was comforting. 

He’d never been terribly close to her, less close to his father, but it didn’t change that she was, in fact, his mother. He’d always feel a bond, in some form. And knowing that her actions, her words, or lack thereof, were too often influenced by being under his father’s thumb stuck in the back of his mind. Rarely did she drift, knowing she’d have to face his frustration, but she had this time, for him, for his child, and it made things all the more difficult. Confusing. 

"I know what was said was…horrible. And—" Her eyelids briefly closed as she shook her head. She blew out a subtle breath before looking up at him. “I know I didn't do anything about it. I didn't call you and tell you I wasn't on his side in this. But that's what I'm doing now."

His lips parted but she continued.

“If it doesn’t work, if you don’t want me around them, then I’ll go. I’ll respect that, sweetheart, but I just wanted to try.”

The longer she stood there, the longer she had her hands around his, looking as desperate as she did, the harder it was for Jake to maintain the same depth of anger that he’d been so attached to. It seeped away with the nagging obligation to let her try to be a grandmother to his daughter. Not just for his mother, but for Eve. His baby girl, for whom he would willingly spend his entire life trying to provide everything she deserved and more. 

Jake sighed. 

“You can meet them,” he said, “But—”

She smiled. “That’s enough for now. I wouldn’t ask for more.”

Good. He wouldn’t give her more. Not now. Not until he saw for himself how she behaved around you and his baby. 

Nodding, he said, “Come on, then.”

He could feel her nerves again as they stepped out the back door of the bar, but the moment he saw your face, all of his attention went to you and what you were going to think about what he’d just agreed to. 

You only gave a brief look to his mother, a small smile with it, before your eyes were back on his. The question in them he responded to with a nod, then his mother stepped out from behind him. She hadn’t a chance to get a good look at Eve when she arrived, but now that the girl was right in front of her, snuggled in your arms, his mother couldn’t peel her eyes away. 

Her hand raised to cover her mouth and muffle the light sob that escaped as she stared in awe at the girl. She eased over to you.

"Could I—" She started but hesitated.

Jake understood her pause. His mother was asking another mother—a woman she didn’t truly know—if she could hold her baby. And what mother would hand her child over to a stranger? He respected her for recognizing that. For not assuming she had a claim on his child. 

A relationship with Eve would be a gift to her, but not one she could demand. It was a gift that must be granted. A decision; His and yours. And while he had decided he was ok with his mother being around Eve, you, too, would have to agree. 

“Would it be alright with you if I held her?” his mother finally asked. 

You looked at Jake again and he nodded again—extra reassurance that he trusted the intentions of the woman asking you to hand over your entire world. 

Smile spreading across your face, you said, “Of course,” and lifted Eve in his mother’s direction. 

"Oh…gosh,” she breathed, settling the girl on her hip. "You're so wonderful, aren't you." 

Her words were breaking as they left her lips, but she continued to murmur sweet praises as she hugged the baby girl close, and kissed the top of her blonde head, and ran her fingers over the much smaller ones. His mother looked at and held her son’s daughter as if she were unreal, delicate, breakable. And that’s exactly what she was. Eve was a miracle—one that brought her parents together again when it seemed so horribly unlikely, and she needed to be treated as such.

Jake’s heart squeezed so beautifully at the sight, and the tears he thought had come and gone threatened to reemerge. He felt full. Oddly complete in a way he didn’t anticipate. 

It was uncomfortable to realize how much he wanted that acceptance, for himself, for you, for his child, but he couldn’t deny the relief of seeing his mother care. Not judging but loving the way he chose to live his life despite it being so different than what was expected of him. 

A brush against his hand pulled him away from the scene. You tugged on his fingers and grinned when his eyes met yours. You pulled more, but Jake was already moving to sit beside you on the bench. 

“You ok?” you asked as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You leaned into him. 

“I’m giving it a chance,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’ll see.”

----

A/N: this will have a 2nd part.

Turn on notifications for this blog or @seresinhangmanjake-library if you would like to keep up with my writing.

[homestead-akatsuka]

"Good day, grasshopper!"

for the first time ever, i - nephilapothecary 'trout' homestead-akatsuka - have finished a ref, and i want to crumble into dust

would you believe this is a 'cover page' ref? as in the actual ref i posted as a wip isn't even done? and neither are joro's expression sheets nor design notes done? sigh... long long way to go!

more info of joro and other credits under the cut because i'm scared of long posts. by long, i MEAN long i am very sorry in advance.

'name' ✧ Mai/Mugi Jorō (麦 ジョロ—) age ✧ late 20s to 30s (generally a good two years older than the sextuplets for reference) height ✧ 4'11 / 151cm birthday ✧ March 14 nationality ✧ Singaporean, Chinese (Cantonese/Hokkien) gender ✧ Non-binary pronouns ✧ They/He/She – doesn't mind any pronouns, but generally prefers them in the order shown. orientation ✧ Sapphic/Lesbian, Polyamorous, Demisexual voice-claims ✧ Saiga Mitsuki (JPN), Stephanie Beatriz (ENG)

playlist ✧ "And the sunshine greets you again, my scarab!" (to specify, the voice-claims for both JPN and ENG are Rika from Pokemon Horizons and Rosa Diaz from Brooklyn 99 respectively!)

Jorō is the current and only farmer that owns the now-revitalised land on the outskirts of Akatsuka Ward, the quaint Furusato Homestead (故郷農場). Without so much as a tie to the country, it seems as if they've appeared out of nowhere.

They are known by quite a few of the seniors in Akatsuka Ward, though mostly by the stay-at-home parents and local cooks. They make a decent living off of their crops and own a reliable little flock of hens and wild geese, with barn cats that seemed to settle in of their own accord.

One of the few friendlier citizens quickly become a familiar face to them; Jorō becomes fast friends with Matsuyo, someone who frequents their produce at the farmers' market - the fact that Jorō never charges all that much and looks way too young to be a farmer must have drawn Matsuyo in out of curiosity. They see her almost like a second mother, with her kind words and reassuring smile, whose meetings at the markets sometimes come with little gifts of food. Their meetings with Matsuyo soon extend beyond exchanging produce and small talk, and Jorō's presence in the Matsuno household become known to the sextuplets living there. Well, the few instances of their name are accompanied only with a healthy dose of motherly nagging.

A collective decision to put a stop to this endless harassment from their mother, the sextuplets attempt to confront them - and hopefully, scare them off so they wouldn't have to hear about getting jobs again.

An... unfortunate incident leads to a very rocky first impression of Jorō, but the lot of them sort it out in due time.

In the present, the idiosyncratic farmer finds themselves to be good friends with all six of the Matsuno brothers, each with their own little oddities. They are especially fond of the second, fourth, and fifth brothers: Karamatsu, their go-to buddy for so-bad-its-good western movies and playful, sometimes heartfelt talks. Ichimatsu, their quiet companion whose candid - and also morbid - conversations make for great company. And Jyushimatsu, an almost-rabid ball of energy who never gives them a day of mundanity.

𓆣

Jorō's personality and looks are a strange mismatch. Covered neck-down in intricate tattoos of insects and botanical illustrations, one would assume them to assert themselves like a delinquent would, or at least assertively enough to give off a threatening aura, even at a glance. This could not be further from the truth.

They carry themselves with an air of whimsy and have a level-headed mindset. Jorō's language, though warm and homely, can sometimes seem eccentric - choosing to refer to their friends with insect-related terms of endearment and speaking almost in roundabout manners. They rarely hold grudges, but have learnt to be quite wary of people who they find to be shady or untrustworthy. Despite the mellow persona they hold, if they ever aren't being taken seriously, they can and will make their stance clear as day, through words or force. A very 'do no harm, take no shit' attitude. Don't worry though, they're very placid most times.

Jorō comes off as polite and charming to acquaintances, but by god, do they have a potently concentrated ball of anxiety hidden in deep layers within their heart. They easily tire when they're around unfamiliar people, having to keep up the cool, composed act and having to figure out what to say to certain people so they don't come off as impolite or strange. Around friends, they loosen up quite easily and can get a little vulgar. They mean well, it's just natural habit to swear.

A hoarder of hobbies, the king of trinkets. They have a dedicated room for their old, current, and transient hobbies, as well as display shelves for all the little items they collect. You can find quite a lot of stuff in there; guzhengs, violins, embroidery, pottery wheels and more. Their current interests lie heavily in the arts and sciences, mostly illustrations, insect identification, and insect pinning. They love beetle fighting but only ever conduct it under very strict, specific circumstances – they despise hurting beetles for entertainment, and would rather have them fight naturally than force it.

An individual with a vested interest in entomology, environmental sciences, native biodiversity, and ecology. They've earned a Bachelor's Degree in Science and minored in entomology in Australia, they WILL talk your ear off about insects do NOT mention insects around them you will REGRET IT.

Jorō Trivia 𓆣

✧ They speak English, Japanese, German, Mandarin, and some Cantonese! It's mostly swears for Cantonese but they can also converse in it too.

✧ Aside from the Matsuno family, they're cloae buddies with Chibita! They sell daikon and fresh eggs to them and accepts coupons for free oden sometimes.

✧ They hand-embroider a lot of their shoes and pants! A habit they developed from their university days, in which they'd cover all the accidental acid spills and bleach stains with floral and insect motifs.

✧ Their parents enrolled them into a lot of extracurriculars as a kid, so they end up being decent at a lot of things; first aid, singing, violin, guzheng, etc. They're no master though.

✧ A lot of animals seem docile around them. They've managed to befriend a family of geese on their property, formed an alliance with the feral barn cats that take residence in their shed, and somehow managed to figure out a compromise between the crows that always want a bite of their crops. How they do it, nobody knows.

𓆣

god okay I took a LOT of inspiration from @/puffpawstries and @/flowerakatsuka's refs for honno and kuroba respectively, my apologies if i might have mirrored a few things too much GWAHAH

my style's usually quite clashing with the ososan style but i think i managed to balance it! here's the blue linework version even though it's. ngl it's a lil ugly HAHAGSJ

falls over and turns to dust

[nanaooyoo]

nct jisung oneshot

request for anon: you have a kid without your highschool boyfriend ever finding out. sorry this request took a long while my life has been so insane lately that I haven’t had time to do much of anything besides work. Anyways enjoy ✨

warnings/headsup: light swearing • teen pregnancy • tiny bit of angst • major fluff fest • 7.8k words • female reader • light proofread • jisung x reader kiss • melodrama • crisp autumn vibes • dad!jisung • D/N = daughters name • miscommunication • so much cheesiness

Moving On: Jisung x Reader pt. I/I

High school was a complicated time for Jisung. He was managing school, keeping up with friends, dealing with his overbearing family, and a slew of extracurriculars, all while making sure to pay attention to you; his girlfriend. Sometimes it all felt like too much, sometimes he felt like he should just quit. Nevertheless, you were always there to support him. You were constantly by his side and that’s what really mattered. Whether it was bringing him snacks in between classes, helping him study during free periods, waiting for him at the dance studio while he practiced, or just being a shoulder to lean on and a safe space to vent whenever he may have needed it you were there... Jisung couldn’t even express how grateful he was for having you around! Even with all his appreciation and love for you however, he still wasn’t aware of just how far you were expending yourself to keep him happy and healthy.

People often joked about just how close you two were, how you were like second mother to Jisung and his entire friend group, the way you were always ready and able to give them rides and take care of Jisung and all the people important to him. Jisung’s mother would have probably said the opposite. Though she was never overt about it you know she didn’t like you. She would scowl whenever Jisung left you two alone together and the smile she forced on her face whenever he brought you home was just about the fakest thing you’d ever seen. Jisung always tried his best to talk you up to his parents, but where his mother was stubborn and resentful, his father was uninterested and indifferent. He didn’t want to believe that the people that had raised him couldn’t see in you what he saw, it pained him to think about so he just didn’t. He was in complete denial most times about the relationship between your two families and the fact that you came from much lower economic means didn’t help your case. When he first pitched the idea of you being his girlfriend to his mom and dad that was the very first thing they pointed out in fact! That didn’t stop him however. He would just tell himself that they were overly protective and that you and his mom were actually quite similar. You two would have to get along at some point… at least he hoped you would…

Jisung almost never failed to point out your motherly instincts: to protect him from bad news, to make sure he excelled in everything he did, to simply keep his head afloat. Unfortunately, no one knew just how that instinct would eventually have to develop. For better or for worse that instinct might have just been the end of the life you were once so used to.

It was late spring when you started noticing a bizarre sense of dread in the air as the reality started to set in for everybody that lives were starting to shift and change, and relationships were experiencing a much different sort of ebb and flow. No wonder you felt a little sick, it was the dread in the air! Right?

Sometimes your period was late… but it was never this late... You had no idea what you were supposed to do in a moment like this! A wave of anxiety washed over you and your body as you began to feel queasy. You felt nauseous, and even a fair amount afraid. This might have been the absolute worst time in your life for something like this to happen! You were so close to wrapping up high school. Senior year was supposed to be the last year of you and your peers lives before becoming "real" adults. You were deciding which university to go to and what subjects to major in. You were getting ready to say goodbye to friends and unfortunately hadn’t yet had the sit down talk with your boyfriend about if he was comfortable going long distance or even staying together at all…

You loved Jisung, you really did, but you also loved the idea of a bit of freedom. You would never explicitly say that to him for fear of hurting him or just sounding like you wanted to complain, but you were tired. Tired of being so busy, tired of so many people depending on you, tired of always being referred to as Park Jisung’s girlfriend, tired of his family looking down on you and yours. You honestly thought that most people had forgotten your name at this point. You wanted something of your own, something to explore outside of and away from Jisung, however sweet he was. You thought that college might be time for a change! A chance to reinvent yourself apart from your high school boyfriend and the hovering hand of his mother. No matter how lovely and accomplished he was, you two couldn’t be together forever right? At least that’s what you told yourself. You thought of your parents, you thought of Jisung’s parents. You were sure that if the Park family didn’t already detest you they surely would now. You dreaded what two little lines on a flimsy piece of plastic might mean for all of that. His parents already thought of you as unsophisticated, a burden to Jisung’s future and this would not help your case. You knew you had to tell Jisung while he was still around but you just didn’t know how… but first you had to be sure what you were planning on telling him.

You sat on the cold porcelain of the toilet seat all alone but face still flushed with warmth from embarrassment. You got up and washed your hands and gave yourself a once over in the mirror. You barely recognized your own visage. The bags under your eyes had bags, and the dark circles looked more like new permanent attachments than temporary indications of sleepiness. You subconsciously prayed to whatever god was out there that your period was just late again this time. “It’s just two or three weeks” you told yourself looking back to your reflection in your bathroom mirror and plastering on your best cheery smile. It only lasted a moment but for a fragment of a fragment of a second you were almost smiling genuinely no matter the result.

You went and did a quick lap around your house to release as much pent up stressful energy as possible but also to make sure your parents really were out of the house. You peeked out through the living room curtains one last time just making sure that there were no cars other than your own parked in the driveway. You ran back up the stairs as soon as you heard the faint ringing of the alarm you had set on your phone. You couldn’t stop the trembling of your hands as you picked up the little pink and white pregnancy test you had set on the edge of the counter. You sucked in a deep breath, inhaling sharply through your nose as the sheer terror and excitement of what you were looking at created a blockade in your throat. You felt a tingling sensation all over, unable to properly breathe, only sucking in air for another few seconds before finally letting out your first breath in what felt like several minutes.

Although, it wasn’t just any regular breath, it was a laugh. Well less of a laugh and more or a low groan that slowly turned into a chortle. You practically keeled over as you fell to the ground on your hands and knees, stomach and back heaving as sloppy tears fell down on the sides of your face and almost splashed back into your eyes with the velocity at which they hit the tiled floor. You didn’t know what your reaction would be once you looked at the test but you definitely did not expect this! You were so afraid before, so worried, so adamant that you wanted, needed it to be negative! Now here you were staring at the two thin lines on the near microscopic test screen indicating a positive result and all you could think of was how you hope’d it’d be a girl.

𖦹

“So I have good news and I have bad news” you whispered to Jisung as you two sat in the back of the school library “do you want to hear the good news or the bad news first”?

“Uhm I don’t know… I guess the bad news” he said.

You screamed internally, wondering why he just had to choose the bad option first. Jisung rifled through several books struggling to pick one for a final paper, paying you little mind as he laced his fingers through yours absentmindedly and dragged you down each aisle of bookshelves behind him.

It had been about a day or two since you had taken the test and you had even talked it over with your parents. They were understandably uneasy at first when you said you planned on keeping the child but you assured them that you would absolutely keep working on your studies. You told them you would talk to Jisung yourself and figure out the rest from there, and all your parents could do was support you and whatever decisions you made, the best they possibly could. They could see the stress in your eyes as you mentioned next steps. Though your parents supported your relationship they weren’t too fond of Jisung’s family either. The pretentious nature and lack of grace when talking about their son’s girlfriend, your parent’s daughter, it made them upset to say the least. The thought of having to join your two families was the last thing they wanted to think about right now. You explained to them in detail exactly how you wanted to move forward with your life and what you planned on telling your boyfriend in the process. “Just let him down easy” your mother said, knowing how difficult of a conversation this would be, especially to have so young “don’t tell his mom… tell him.” Your mother’s voice was emotional and awkward and your dad gave you a half hearted smile and stiff hug. Their words rang in your head as you looked up at Jisung.

“Are you sure you want to hear the bad news first?” You asked, hoping that if you told him the good news was that you were pregnant, he would already be on board to end the relationship and you wouldn’t have to say what you had to say next and his mom would never have to be proven right about how messy she thought you were.

“No I want to hear the bad stuff first and just get it over with” he said reaching over you with ease to grab a book off the highest shelf. “Hey do you think this would work?” He clicked his tongue paging through whatever novel he had picked up this time.

You sighed… “okay but it’s really important so I need you to really listen!”

Jisung continued checking out books and only really half listening to you. “Of course” he said as he carried on skimming all the literature around him.

“Jisung I’m serious! I didn’t want to do this here but this is the first time we’ve been alone together all week!”

“Totally…” he responded

“Jisung look at me!”

“I am looking at you…” (he wasn’t). He kissed your hand tenderly, muttering the words on the page he was looking at to himself.

“Jisung!”

“What babe?”

His nonchalance angered you. Couldn’t he tell how upsetting this was for you? “Jisung I want to break up!” You swore you could hear a pin drop on the complete opposite side of the library. You felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest in the time it took for Jisung to fully absorb what you had said. Those few seconds felt like an eternity, but once they were over you already wanted to go back to before you had said anything.

“You’re joking…” he said, actively scoffing in your face.

What ensued was potentially the first and only ever argument between you and your then, now ex boyfriend. All you really remembered was how he kept asking "why". You told him all the little reasons, how you wanted space, how you couldn’t do long distance, how your families would never get along, but you omitted the most important reason... Sure those other things were true but you also just couldn’t see yourself raising a child with the first guy you had ever slept with, and Jisung had so much going for him, you knew there was no way a dance career could have him stationed in one place long enough to focus on a new family. His mother would never let him have a kid with you, you just knew it! She would think you were trapping him, his father would question you incessantly, and Jisung would eventually have to choose between his prospective future or yours. So you decided to choose for him.

“So we’re just over then” his voice was hoarse and defeated “you don’t want to see me again”…

All you could do was nod “this one should work well, it fits all the criteria for the paper”. You said, handing Jisung a hefty book of the shelf, helping him for seemingly the last time…

You couldn’t completely avoid Jisung the last few weeks of school. You both had sort of silently agreed to keep as much distance as possible, only speaking to each other when absolutely necessary. When people asked why you two had broken up you both had slightly different answers but they both went along the lines of “growing apart.” It really hurt to think about, especially all that was left unsaid but you simply had to trudge forward. The last time you saw Jisung was at graduation where you each exchanged a friendly yet faintly sour handshake and wished each other good luck. You watched the smug smile on his mother’s face as you two parted ways and the way she turned up her nose when your dad foolishly went in for a cordial handshake.

You sort of regretted not telling him about your ‘situation’ but you also felt like it was for the best! You thought you might never see him again and once your daughter D/N was born nothing else mattered. You put off school for a bit, moved to a new town and got very used to living alone with just you and your little girl. You put all your best skills to use once you had entered university. All your experience planning, keeping others organized, staying on task, and being a mother really lended itself to your field and your incredible business acumen was undeniable. You worked hard to make sure that you and your daughter could live in the best house, afford the nicest dinners, get the very best babysitters, and whatever else would make the little one’s life easier.

Obviously you still thought about him. Every time you looked at your child’s face you saw him. Every laugh, every cough and sneeze, every silly statement, every whine just reminded you of him. She never asked about her father but you wondered if she would eventually start. You sort of did want her to meet Jisung but your life had changed so much since, you wondered if after all these years if he would even care. You weren’t immune to looking him up every now and then or asking your parents if they had heard any news about him or his family. You suspected he would be angry or hurt if he found out, and he had every right to be. Despite that though, you still just wanted to see him again, even if it was just to yell at you for lying or cuss you out, even for just a brief moment you wanted to see him…

𖦹

“There’s no way… there’s no way…” Jisung muttered to himself slowly bringing his shopping cart to a halt and planting his feet firmly in the middle of the aisle. People gave him dirty looks and confused stares. He stood there, oblivious, only focused on a woman about his age, a woman he’d recognize anywhere even from a hundred feet away, a woman who nearly shattered his heart into a million pieces and broke up with him before moving across the country and becoming the most successful person from their high school by a mile. It couldn’t be, or rather it shouldn’t be!

What were you doing back in your home town? He wondered. The last he had heard you graduated college with about a million academic achievements under your belt, and were making more money than he could ever dream of at some big conglomerate. Though there you were, same put together appearance, same pretty face, same sweet voice, bending over to talk to a little girl who looked just like you. He did a double take, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses just to make sure he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing. He squinted and blinked and did just about everything he could to clear his vision but nothing changed. All he saw was you.

He felt like he had to say something… if he didn’t he thought he might go insane. What kind of guy would he be to just ignore your presence. Sure you two hadn’t ended things on the best note but that was years ago, and you were just kids at the time! Maybe you’d forgiven him at this point. At one point Jisung wasn’t sure if all the resentment he once held for you was gone but seeing you in person just confirmed that it was. There was no reason to be mad anymore. He really missed you. He just wanted to talk to you again…

Was it really you standing there? The child didn’t look that old but was she really yours? Had you moved on so quickly after leaving town, after leaving him? Who were you with now? His head was spinning like a freshly oiled revolving door and full to the brim flooded with questions.

Jisung felt like his stomach did a 360 degree flip as he tepidly approached you. “Y/N” he stated more than asked hoping but already knowing it was you. Though, in case he was wrong he braced himself for a much more awkward encounter.

You almost dropped the can of food you were holding blinking rapidly and registering the person before you. “Jisung?” You said, giving him a once over. He was somehow even taller now with jet black hair and dark thick rimmed glasses slightly covering his tired brown eyes. He was as cute as ever. There he stood looking pretty much the same as he did when you left, but boy was he handsome!

“Jisung what’re you doing here?” You asked out of impulse, already knowing the answer. You acted like you hadn’t heard he was in town from your mother who ran into his folks a couple weeks ago, who proceeded to unabashedly brag about their son to her. Of course you then immediately went and stalked him on social media.

“I- I came back recently for a family reunion…” his face was a bit strained as he said it and then he trailed off, noticing the little girl who shyly held your hand once more. Up close she looked ever more like you, down to the way she looked him up and down and examined him with curious eyes. She stared without a shred of recognition on her face or in her eyes but still refused to break eye contact with the strange adult towering over her. He also couldn’t help but notice the way her cheeks rounded out the same way his did as a child and how her face transitioned into the same confused expression he made, mirroring him perfectly.

“What are you doing here?” He said trying his best to look at you and to not stare back at the little girl clinging to your side examining him like a foreign creature trapped behind bars at the zoo.

“I’m visiting my parents” you said clearing your throat a bit “with my daughter.” You raised her little hand trying to make her wave.

“How old is she?” He asked, mentally doing the math of just how long ago you two broke up.

“She’s five…” you said bashfully. You tried to run every possible scenario in your head about what the best course of action would be in this moment. Was it selfish to just keep the information to yourself, or was it better to just tell him now. Maybe the grocery store wasn’t the best place to let Jisung know that you’ve sort of been hiding a secret daughter from him for the past five years, but also the longer you hid it from him the worse you felt. You had to tell him, it really felt like now or never. You had kept her from him for so long it just felt cruel at this point. Plus, even though your daughter was young the way she eyed Jisung up and down made you feel paranoid enough that she had already figured it out herself. Maybe Jisung already knew too, maybe he wanted nothing to do with you or more importantly with her, but you still had to tell him. The words had to come out of your own mouth whether you wanted to speak them or not! You had to make up for the immature decision you made at that time. It was like you were in that library all over again...

“Hey do you want to meet up- I mean we should probably talk, it’s been a long time”. You fumbled over your words not sure exactly what to say.

Jisung perked up “I’m free tomorrow. If you wanna grab coffee!” He was happy you took the initiative to invite him out because god knows he didn’t have the courage to do it himself.

“That sounds... nice!” you said as the little girl tugged on your arm mumbling something about wanting to watch some tv show at grandma and grandpa’s.

“I assume your number’s still the same.” He said remembering all the times he meant to text you but stopped himself out of fear.

“Yeah it is.” You said. You felt the same giddy feeling you got on the first day of high school when a cute boy in your homeroom asked for your number for “study purposes.” There was that cute boy once again standing in front of you giving you the same smile he gave you when you first met. A smile you hadn’t seen in years, but healed a hurt you didn’t know you had inside instantly.

You had to chew on your cheeks to hide your smile as you drove home. You could see your daughter in the rear view mirror drumming her little fingers on the arm rest of her car seat along to the music on the radio. You would peek at her every once in a while and try to gauge her focus. What was she thinking about? Was she afraid of him? Was she curious about him? Did she even care?

You cleared your throat only half getting her attention as she sang along to the words of whatever song was playing, mostly making up her own lyrics and swaying in her seat. “So what did you think of mommy’s friend?” You asked.

She didn’t respond for a bit or even give you any indication that she heard you. She was silent for a few minutes before speaking. “He’s nice… but… too tall…” she said.

“You might be tall like that one day” you chuckled “would you ever want to meet him again?” You wanted to at least have an idea of what to tell Jisung when you saw him next. In your mind, your daughter’s opinion (though still young and uninformed) mattered the most. If she wanted nothing to do with him at this time it didn’t matter what Jisung’s response was. All that mattered was her and what her needs were.

“Is he good at playing games?” She added out of the blue.

“What?”

“Mommy’s friend... Is he good at playing games?”

“Uhm, I guess so? From what I remember he was always fun. I’m sure he’d be good at playing games.” You smiled at her through the rear view mirror a little “Why D/N? Did you want to play a game with him?”

Your daughter just looked out the window and nodded her head, soon after getting distracted. “When are we getting home? I wanna watch my show.” She huffed and grumbled almost like an adult. Almost like Jisung.

“Soon.” You said.

As you pulled into the driveway and walked into your parent’s house, your daughter was practically vibrating with energy. She practically dove out of the car as you unbuckled her seatbelt, running into the home as your mother opened the door and greeted her with a big hug.

“How was the store?” Your mother asked as she ushered your little one down the hall to go bother your father in the living room.

“It was alright… I ran into Jisung…” you walked over to the kitchen and placed a few shopping bags on the counter.

Your mother looked surprised “both of you?”

You sighed “both of us.”

“What did he say?”

“He asked to grab coffee, he actually seemed happy to see me!”

“Were you happy to see him?” Your mother asked.

“Of course I was! It was awkward but I have to tell him sooner or later. Whether he wants to be in her life or not I have to tell him.”

“-and you think the best way to do that is over coffee?”

“No!” You said. “But I might not have another chance.”

Your mother looked at you with this awkward guilty expression on her face. She started to unpack the groceries biting her lip and looking everywhere but into your eyes.

“What? Do you really think it’s that bad of an idea?”… there was silence as she opened the fridge and began to rearrange some condiments, suspiciously shaking her head as if to neither completely agree or disagree. “You think I should keep it from him? Mom it's been long enough, it would just be wrong to not tell him. D/N wants to meet him! Why are you being so weird about this? Aren’t you the one who told me I should tell him the next time I see him?”

“What if he already knows?” Your mother blurted out.

“So what if he already knows…” you furrowed your eyebrows “wait… what do you mean?”

“Nothing” your mother said.

You knew that was bullshit. “Did you tell him?” You asked in a frustrated tone. “You told him didn’t you—”

Your mother looked at you and then went back to avoiding your fiery gaze. She was never good at keeping secrets but you thought something of this magnitude would be able to stay hidden. She promised to let you tell him on your own terms, so why had she betrayed you?

It took her a while to fess up but eventually she did, sort of… “I didn’t tell him directly, it just sort of slipped out… I— I just had to say something she was so… ugh!” Your mother groaned.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You asked and took a deep breath. Your mother swallowed harshly and looked down at the floor. “I promise to hear you out, I just want to know what I’m getting into mom.”

“It was around last month… Your dad has been golfing so much lately, so he got us a membership to the country club with the money you gave him for his birthday. I don’t personally use it much but he loves it down there, and I like to use the pool, and the tennis court is nice, and every once in a while I like to just sit in one of the dining rooms with a glass of wine, and…”

You sucked in your cheek as your mom rambled knowing that she couldn’t avoid the point forever. “Yeah exactly.” You said dryly.

Your mother gulped once more “To make a long story just a bit shorter… The Park family also goes there and I ran into Jisung’s mother, and she was just bragging about him nonstop and she hinted that he was better off without you and I just remembered how much you loved that boy! She was talking about some date he went on and how great this girl was. Greater than my daughter? I doubt it! She thought her son could do no wrong! That he was so perfect and you were so not… I just couldn’t help but tell her that whether she liked it or not you two would always be connected! I- I looked at her and I said ‘ya know you may want to let your son know that you already have a granddaughter and she’s not related to that rich heiress you want him with so bad!’ That’s what I said to her for looking down on us all these years… I told her about how my daughter and my daughter’s daughter were just about the most wonderful thing in this world and she had no right to talk about you or even her own son that way.”

“You really said all that stuff?”

“Yes…” Your mother replied hesitantly.

You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes and a swell of emotion inside you. You put a hand over your mouth to stop the audible sobbing that threatened to leave your mouth. You could tell just how long your mother had been holding in those words. She was always so non confrontational but the fact that she said all that warmed your heart. You were angry at first but in this moment you realized that it didn’t matter what Mrs. Park or even your ex boyfriend thought of you. You had some choice words for Jisung’s parents as well but you knew it would create more trouble to let them out. All that mattered was that your mother loved you guys enough to be proud of you. You always felt a bit embarrassed when having to explain to others that you weren’t the babysitter you were just a teen mom, but your own mother didn’t even care. She loved you all the same and made sure that no one would let you feel ashamed of yourself. “I should’ve known you couldn’t keep a secret anyways.” You said choking up a bit. You gave your mother the biggest hug you had probably ever given in your entire life, and she hugged you right back!

“You aren’t angry?” She asked.

“Oh I’m furious” you said “but not at you. I have no idea what I did to make that woman hate me so much but I’m glad you stood up to her!”

Your mother sighed. “I know you wanted to do it on your own terms but I feel like she might’ve already told him… I just don’t know for sure.”

“It’s alright.” You said. You and your mother finished unloading the groceries, tearfully laughing at how strange the whole encounter must have been. The thought of your soft-spoken mother raising her voice at a stern and snarky lady filled you with joy. Just imagining the shocked look on Jisung’s mom’s face was enough to keep a slight smile on yours for the rest of the day.

Later that night, after putting D/N to bed, you sat on the couch with your parents commiserating about all the awful experiences you had with the Park family over the years. It had been pent up for so long that all of you took the opportunity to air out even the smallest of grievances.

“I don’t know how such a sweet kid could be related to such obnoxious people” your father said as a small ping emanated from your phone.

You couldn’t stop the butterflies in your stomach as you saw the first text from Jisung in half a decade appear before you.

“Wanna grab that coffee around noon tmrw?” It said.

You considered being coy and waiting a few more minutes to reply but your fingers worked faster than your brain. Before you knew it a “sure!” was sent in response.

Then there was one more ping. One more text. It was small. It was innocuous. It could have meant nothing. But to you, it meant everything. It was one small red heart, one little emoticon that hinted to you that he still might feel the same…

𖦹

The next morning was an early one for you. You spent hours perfecting the exact right image that would make you look good enough to go on what was essentially a date, but not so good that Jisung would immediately clock that you two were on a date. Sure meeting up with an old fling to talk about a secret child over coffee wasn’t the most romantic premise, but you couldn’t help but want to put your best foot forward when it came to him. It was almost shameful to admit internally how much you felt for him, but it was the honest truth. You still loved him.

The ding of the coffee shop door seemed to ring out like a chorus of hollow bell chimes in your ears as your head began spinning. Jisung was sitting at table to the far end of the cafe. You could see the rays of somber light peeking in through the window, diffused by the dusty oranges, reds, and browns of the fall leaves. Jisung fidgeted in his chair looking down at the table, and then his watch, then his phone, and back to the table. Two brown paper cups stood tall on the table in front of him, steam rising from them and collecting on the lenses of his glasses. He cracked his knuckles and gnawed at his fingernails nervously until finally catching a glimpse of you walking towards him. “Y/N” he exclaimed, clumsily getting to his feet and lightly tripping over a leg of his chair.

You tried your best to hold back laughter as he bumbled around, rushing to pull out a chair for you. You smiled and thanked him as you sat down. The rich pungent smell of freshly ground coffee beans and sweet steamed milk filled your nostrils and Jisung gently pushed one cup over to you.

“I assumed you still drank the same coffee. If that’s okay.” He cleared his throat hesitantly.

You could just about burst into tears at this very moment. After all these years he still remembered your coffee order. He was only missing one thing...

“Wait just a second…” he fumbled through his pockets for a moment and pulled out two small packets of sweetener. “I know you like to stir in your own sugar” he said.

Now it was perfect!

“Did you sleep okay?” He asked.

Jisung’s consideration for others, you in particular was always so evident. It’s like he couldn’t stop himself from making the kind of small talk that involved checking in on people. “I did.” You replied.

The two of you spent some time just sitting and catching up. You talked about school, work, old friends, tv shows, and just about everything you two would have talked about and experienced together had you been in contact for the past five and a half years. You didn’t really realize when, but the both of you had slowly transitioned to taking your coffee shop 'date' outside of the coffee shop and made your way to the park across the street. The air was cool and refreshing and Jisung couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud but the way you were bundled up with your scarf, gloved hands clutching your coffee like it might run away from you if you let it go was adorable. He also took not of how your coats subtly matched. Yours a light brown, and his a deep tan color made you two look complimentary, almost like a couple… almost.

“Did your daughter make it in time to watch her show?” He asked out of the blue.

You chuckled “You remembered that? She did actually. She even talked about you a bit after… before she went to bed she asked if I was meeting up with you soon.”

“No way!” He said and bumped your shoulder lightly with his coffee cup.

“Really I mean it! She’s so interested in what I do. She always asks about my friends.”

“Are we still friends?”

Your eyes went wide, your hands tensed up and a chill ran down your spine. “I mean- We were good friends at one point!” You choked on your words not knowing what to say.

“We were more than just good friends Y/N” he said.

“I know…”

Jisung bit his lip and you both looked at each other sheepishly, you caught his gaze and he caught yours before you both broke out into a fit of laughter. You two as a pair had a way of bringing out a silliness within yourselves that had you cackling like hyenas together but looking like absolute madmen to any onlookers passing by.

Your walk in the park was peaceful and comforting. So comforting in fact that you had almost forgotten why you wanted to meet up with him in the first place.

𖦹

“So what was the good news?” He said, taking a sip of his drink.

“What?”

“The good news! Remember before we broke up you said there was good news and bad news… the bad news was the break up and the good news was…” he giggled awkwardly “well I never got to find out”.

Why now of all times did he have to bring that up? What could you even say? You couldn’t run, you couldn’t hunker down somewhere and hide. You had to talk to him. It was now or never.

“Yeah about that… the good news was mostly good news for me”. You were internally facepalming at your high school self’s method of delivery when it came to something so important. ‘Good news and bad news’, how idiotic could you have been.

“That’s okay, I still want to know-” Jisung gently placed your hand in his, picking it up to wrap your fingers within his warm grasp. He knew it might be wrong but he really didn’t want to ask about your relationship status right now. “I was obsessed with everything you did back then, that part of me still really wants to know… Like would it have changed anything? I know that sounds stupid but it’s true…”

You couldn’t help but melt a little being in his hold once again. It lulled you in a way that made you forget the gravity of what you were about to abruptly spit out. “The good news was D/N”! You felt a lump form in your throat and you were jolted back a bit as Jisung stood there frozen in the midst of the cobblestone path. You immediately went into panic mode. Why wasn’t he saying anything? “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, it just felt like the right thing to do at the time and my parents pretty much told me to do whatever I thought was best! I didn’t want to push something so big on you right before graduation” You rambled on and on watching as Jisung seemed to only take in bits and pieces of what you were saying. Still you weren’t sure if he was buying your excuses or if they were going in one ear and out the other. He continued to just stand there stiff as a board tightening his hand around yours as you tried to usher him to a bench to sit down. It took a few minutes, but eventually you two found a quieter more private area of the park to talk it out. Jisung mostly sat and listened to you explain your reasoning for keeping D/N a secret from him for so long but he also acknowledged how this wasn’t information he would have wanted to receive any other way than in person and face to face.

He had always wanted to hear something like this from you but he always imagined it was going to be far in the future after you guys got married. Jisung’s thumb lightly caressed your knuckles and you thought your fingers might go numb from the prolonged hand holding. He looked down at your hand and as quiet as a mouse he laughed.

He laughed… Right there on the bench as the cool breeze swept his hair out of his eyes, he laughed. He slowly met your worried gaze, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes just as they did in yours. “Of course you went on to have the perfect life and be the perfect mother all without me.”

His words caught you off guard “Perfect? I’m like a mess ninety percent of the time, I just keep it together in front of my daughter.” You sniffled a bit “I did- I mean I still do want you to be in her life, it would be good for her…”

“Just for her” he asked playfully, tears still welling in his eyes.

“...and for me…” you looked down at the ground.

“Would your boyfriend be okay with that?”

“Boyfriend?” You felt the embarrassment return to you. “I haven’t dated anyone since you and I-” you could barely finish your sentence before Jisung’s lips were crashing into yours. His hot breath made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. His eyelashes gingerly brushed against your cheeks as he caught his breath. Exhaling through his nose he went back for more. Maybe it was because it had been so long, maybe it was because he was older and more experienced, but Jisung had never kissed you like this before. There was quiet desperation in the way your lips melded together as if he was asking you, begging you to be his again.

“Me neither” he said breathlessly finally letting you come up for air.

“I thought you had a girlfriend?”

“No way, I haven’t gone on a real date since I started college…”

“But your mother said-“

“My mother has been trying to set me up with some girl whose parents own a couple buildings downtown for ages now.” Jisung cupped your cheek affectionately. “She seems nice and all but it’s hard to go out with anyone else when all I do is think about you!”

“I think about you too.” You treasured the way such simple touches and matter of fact words could flip your worlds upside down. “I wish I had told you sooner… I really wish I told you so much earlier…” You really couldn’t stop the tears from flowing now. You imagined just how crazy you looked crying on a public bench. “One second” you said reaching into your purse and pulling out a few tissues and some baby wipes. You lightly dabbed at the corners of Jisung’s eyes.

He reached over to you and used his thumbs to wipes your face simultaneously. “You’re such a mom.” He joked.

“I don’t understand how you aren’t mad at me right now?” you said.

Maybe he should have been, you wouldn’t have held it against him if he was. “Being with you is the only thing I’ve ever wanted. If that makes me crazy then so what. I’m crazy about you.”

It was hard to hide the shock on your face, you couldn’t believe he had just outright confessed his feelings to you before you even had time to process that wonderfully unexpected kiss.

“Anyways, it’s a relief that D/N is mine. If you had a kid with some other guy I don’t know what I’d do…” he planted another small kiss on your forehead.

“I think your parents would have been elated…” you trailed off.

“Who cares what my parents think! We’re not in highschool anymore!”

You couldn’t help but smile.

“I always knew we were meant to be family, it doesn’t matter how long it took. Just never keep a secret like that from me again” he laughed.

“I promise it’s all honesty from now on” you replied as Jisung pulled you into a warm embrace. He brought your body closer to his, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you two took in the autumn scenery.

𖦹

It took a few weeks of coordinating but Jisung had finally come up to visit you in your home in the city. D/N was probably more excited than you. Your last couple days back at your parent's were spent watching Jisung play with your (now his) daughter in your parents living room. He seemed to have lived up to all her expectations and she had gotten over her qualms with his height one she realized how high up she could sit when on his shoulders.

You still hadn’t told her he was her father. You and Jisung agreed to wait to tell her until you two were more established. Sure you had dated before but this was now a whole new relationship. Your daughter practically leaped from her spot on the couch once she heard the doorbell ring and her dad’s signature tepid knock on the door.

You opened the door to see your boyfriend’s smiling face as he reached down to pick up D/N as she peppered him with questions. “Hey you!” He said nuzzling her nose and leaning over to give you a kiss as your daughter winced in disgust. He lugged in a large rolling suitcase with his one free hand as you ushered him through the front entrance.

“That’s all you brought?” You asked.

Jisung nodded “yeah for now… I was so eager to get over here that I only packed the essentials, I didn’t want to overwhelm you with all my stuff at once.”

“Please Jisung you’re getting ready to move in. You’re going to overwhelm me anyways” you teased.

“I’ll get the rest later! Right now I just want to hang out with you guys!” He put your daughter down and ruffled her hair. “So are you going to give me a tour?” He said leaning down to talk to her at eye level.

She just wordlessly dragged his wrist along to show him all her favorite spots in the house as you trailed along.

Much to the behest of his mother Jisung planned on having many more days like this and little did you know that the ring burning a hole in his coat pocket back in your hometown was the thing he was most excited to bring back in the next suitcase...

- 🍌🍶

[dearsnow]

TWO MONTHS

- work is taking a heavy toll on your boyfriend. (patrick verona x gn!reader, angst and slight fluff, established relationship)

word count: 657

a/n - another patrick fic :) i love him so much it’s not even funny. he’s my current hyperfixation- that being said, to all my patrick lovers out there, i’m planning a 3 part series for him <3 it’s called the summer before senior year and hopefully i get around to finishing it lol

Patrick closes the door to your apartment with a heavy sigh. The day rests heavily on his hunched shoulders, leaking through his pores as grease and dejection. You stir from your place on the couch. It’s 12:24 AM, and he is just returning from work. His hair is messy, tied up in a frizzy ponytail, and his eyes hold no sparkle. He doesn’t look like himself anymore. Your brows furrow, the weight of his condition nearly bringing tears to your eyes.

“Pat, it’s past midnight.” You murmur, reaching up to cradle his face in your hands. There is a smudge of dirt on his face, which you wipe away with delicate fingers. He melts under your touch. “This isn’t healthy.” He takes both of your hands in his, kissing each one gently.

“I have to.” He grimaces. “Rent’s gone up, baby. You know that.” You lead him to your bed. The sheets are messy, as they always are. In his exhaustion, he does not care; not like he ever did, anyways. “The boys at the car shop offered me this, and I took it.” It hurts you so badly to see him like this. He seems flat, dull, lifeless. Nothing like the Patrick you met, and nothing like you ever wish him to be again. You need him to be happy. He deserves it, if nothing else. He deserves everything good- he deserves the sunshine and tender love and a quiet kiss of calm, but you can only offer him so much.

He lays back, and you pull the sheets over his chest. “I can take a second job.” You say, tracing circles on his chest. He’s too tired to take off his clothes, and you won’t force him to. He’ll be out of the house by 5:00, and he needs all the sleep he can get. He shakes his head at your suggestion, looking at you with soft eyes.

“You have college and the diner already. You’re stretched as thin as you can be.” He whispers, threading his hand through yours again.

“I still have free hours. Not much, but enough to get you some proper rest.” You manage to say. The bags under his eyes speak for themselves. He’ll end up dead if he keeps working like this. You can’t do this without him, any of it. If he dies, if he ends up in some hospital being fed by the few coins you have left dripping through his veins, you wouldn’t be able to handle it. You would gladly work every hour of every day just to see him healthy again. That isn’t realistic, though, and you know it. He’ll never let you take on that burden. You love him for it, but sometimes, his stubborn nature takes hold of him.

“No. This works, what we’re doing. We’ll be fine.” His voice is scratchy and low, but with just enough force to let you know he means it. When he looks at your face, eyes shining with unshed tears, his heart shatters. He kisses your hands again. “I promise, baby, we’ll be out of this soon enough. In two months we’ll have the money to take a break for a little bit. I’ll work lighter hours and we might even have enough saved to take you out on a proper date.” He smiles. You laugh quietly, though the sound is choked. Hot tears force themselves out of your eyes.

“Two months.” You repeat. He nods. “Two long ass fucking months.”

He starts to laugh, slowly at first, until you join. You wrap your arms around him as you giggle into his chest, and his whole body is shaking with the force of his snickering. 

“Two goddamn bitches of months.” He offers, still grinning like a madman. He laughs, and you laugh in his arms, and for the first time in a long time, you think that things might end up working out.

Taglist (misc): @skeletonfromthecloset

[arxims]

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 ᴼᴺᴱ

Returning to Seoul was a decision that you finally ended up in , given that it was the place where you spent your past years. Leaving your messed up past behind, you made the conscious choice to return to Seoul in order to breathe new life into your existence. Little did you know that this decision would change your life. For the good or bad. As you reconnected with an old friend from your past, you were introduced to his younger brother, whose presence became far more significant in your life in a twisted way than you thought.

Pairing : jungkook x reader

genre/au : lot of angst, killer!Jungkook, non idol au, smut.

Warnings : graphic depiction of violence and gore, lots of blood, mentions of rape, smut?, sexual activity, toxic Jungkook, walking red flag Jungkook, psychopathy, mentally disturbed characters, suicide, murder, depictions of torture, serial killing, lots of trauma, depression, criminal behavior, ex criminal lawyer Jungkook, murderous tenancies, possible major character death, mentions child abuse and child pornography, extremely graphic torture.

Rating : mature

Word count : 8.5 k

Part 1/?

MASTERLIST

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“Moonstruck : unable to think or act normally, especially as a result of being in love.”

7 months ago

Returning to Seoul was a straightforward decision for you, given your comfort with the city's atmosphere. Once the conditions were favorable, you were eager to return.

It's been a few years since you last saw him, which was when you left Seoul for a job.

Taehyung, your college senior and the nerdy heartthrob, was once your friend.Those were your mentally healthy years, a phase where you felt free. Your university life represented the last few years where you genuinely felt normal - a calm before the storm. Taehyung was one of the few who made those years memorable and fun.

When you stepped into the random bar you recently discovered, you never expected to see that familiar face again. The moment you saw that boxy smile, you recognized it. He seemed to have the same reaction.Standing in the midst of a crowd, amidst a mix of sweat, smoke, and alcohol, you felt a surge of happiness upon spotting your old friend. It took you a moment to respond with a small wave.

Taehyung battled his way through the crowd, intoxicated with dancing as he approached the woman "(Y/N), Is that you?" he asked, peering at you.

You two had kept in touch after his graduation, but with his hectic career and your college commitments, your communication had gradually faded.The recognition in his eyes was unmistakable, matching the surprise in yours. His boxy smile widened, a hint of nostalgia glistening in his eyes. The memories of your shared past bubbled up to the surface, as vivid as if it were yesterday.

"Taehyung," you whispered, your voice barely audible amidst the loud music. You blinked back tears, a mixture of joy and the sharp pang of missing the good old days.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" he said, his voice thrumming with warmth. You nodded, unable to voice the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. when life was simpler.

Without hesitation, you enveloped him in a warm embrace, your voice a soft murmur in his ear, "Where were you?"

Taehyung held you close, finding comfort and familiarity in your embrace. He had missed you as well."Let's move over there, I can't hear you clearly," you raised your voice slightly so Taehyung could hear you over the noisy atmosphere, with the bass pounding in your ears. You both settled on bar stools.As you both settled on the bar stools, the world seemed to slow down. The blaring music became a distant hum, and the flickering bar lights seemed less intrusive.

"So, how have you been?" Taehyung asked, turning to face you. His voice was a soothing balm amid the chaos around you. You took a moment to collect your thoughts.

"I'm... I'm doing okay," you replied, forcing a smile. You had so much to say, so many emotions to convey, but you were at a loss for words. The truth was that life hadn't been easy since you left college, and seeing Taehyung again, stirred up a whirlwind of emotions.

Taehyung looked at you, his gaze full of understanding. He reached out to gently squeeze your hand, a silent promise that he was there for you, just like old times.

And in that moment, despite the loud music and the overwhelming crowd, you felt a sense of peace. You were home again, with an old friend who understood you more than anyone else.

"Still slaving away at the same job?" You asked casually, taking a sip of your tequila. He laughed heartily before responding, "Nah, staying put? That's for rookies. I've switched companies, of course." He shook his head in amusement. “It's really great to see you again, Dumb head.”

“Me too” you gave him a genuine smile. The conversation went for a healthy amount of time. You both shared all the years missed out and lost the track of time. “What made you think about moving back?. I thought you hated Seoul”

"Actually, I don't hate it. I just wanted to experience living in another city. Nothing compares to Seoul, I agree. The new company gave me a massive raise. Who would ever turn down such a tempting offer?" you replied, tilting your glass. You

were beginning to feel tipsy, just a little.

"Did you come alone?" he inquired just before ordering another shot. "No, I came with a friend. She was whining that I'm not partying enough.; she probably hooked up with some dude by now. You know how she is." You explained, using a gesture that described craziness. "It's nothing I can't handle."

After draining the shot, you put on a brave face. "Glad you found someone crazy enough to match you."The laughter faded from your face. His words had unintentionally dredged up painful memories. Some memories you despised.

"(Y/N)?" he asked with concern when he noticed you were acting distant. "I swear I'm joking."

"I know... I know," you said with a half genuine smile, trying to mask the turmoil within.

"You haven't changed one bit. Horrible liar and emotionally repressed. So what's up?" he continued, his eyes filled with a mix of worry and familiarity.

"It's nothing, honestly..." you lied, not wanting to burden him with your troubles.

"Right, your favorite line," he said sarcastically, seeing through your facade as always.

"You know I'm here for you, right?" he asked, his voice soft and reassuring, reminding you of the unwavering support he always offered.

"Taehyung, it's okay, really. Just some minor growing pains, you know? Nothing major," you reassured, brushing off the uneasy emotions tied to those haunting memories. The psychiatric ward, the padded cell – distant echoes of the past.

"Do you think your friend might have been kidnapped by now?" Taehyung attempted to inject some levity into the conversation, eager to keep the mood light. It had been four years since he last saw you, and he didn't want the day to end with you feeling down. Taehyung was known for his outgoing and cheerful nature, a true social butterfly who is good at connecting with others.

Despite your efforts to mask it, Taehyung could tell something was weighing on you. It wasn't a simple matter easily forgotten; the shadow of it was written all over your face. The key might lie in his earlier comment, "Glad you found someone as crazy as you." Choosing to set aside that train of thought for the moment, Taehyung tried to support you through whatever was troubling you.

“Oh, no worries about her. she'll pop up bright and early tomorrow after the nasty deed, you know. By the way, you're drinking a lot. Looks like you've upgraded from a casual drinker to a full-blown alcohol enthusiast. And you're driving home with all that liquor in your system?”

“Hey, I'd live around longer to witness your wedding day, (Y/N). I already gave Kook a call , and he's on his way to scoop me up. We can swing by to drop you off since your buddy seems to have her own.. Pleasure” He put on a weird smile and an eyebrow raise. His words are starting to get a bit fuzzy now, probably about an 8 out of 10 on the drunk scale.

"Kook?" Now, that name caught your attention.

"Yeah, my bro," he confirmed.

"You have a brother?" You leaned in, intrigued. You couldn't recall him mentioning a brother before. How did this new information come about?

"Well, not biologically. But emotionally, Jungkook is like my baby bro. Wait, don't you remember? I've brought him up... a few times," he reminded you.

You were never one to hold onto memories well. Back in the day, you'd forget names and facts left and right. "Oh, I must be a bit... tipsy," you chuckled.

A tall, muscular man suddenly appeared, pulling Taehyung's arm to help him stand.

"Come on, Hyung. Let's get you up,"

The sudden appearance startled you a little but, You started checking him out without you knowing that you're creepy staring. At his biceps. He's got this arm full of tattoos that instantly make you think how cool it is. You never had a thing for tattoos and you never knew someone would look hot in tattoos. And it totally amps up his hotness and makes him look even more intimidating. And then, out of the blue, the man locked eyes with you for what feels like forever until Taehyung butted in.

Taehyung called, who is now fully drunk. , "Jungkookie, you're quick! I was hoping for more time. Oh, and (Y/N/N) needs a lift home. She's flying solo tonight. Cool to give her a ride?" And that's when it hits you – this Jungkook guy is the real deal.

Interesting

Jungkook couldn't help but roll his eyes "Sure thing, just don't go all Picasso on my seats," he quipped with a nod.

Having a pretty girl like you along for the ride didn't seem to bother him at all. After all, why not enjoy the company?

Taehyung, with his mischievous grin, assured Jungkook that he wouldn't be puking this time. But let's face it, Taehyung's track record with car sickness wasn't the best. Especially when drunk. Despite his best efforts, he always managed to leave a mess behind, mostly on Jungkook. Jungkook had seen it all with Taehyung, so a little vomit was nothing to be grossed out about. Compared to the things he had done

As the three adults settled into the car, you made sure to leave a quick message for your friend, informing her that you're leaving so she won't freak out. Despite your certainty that your friend might not pay much attention, you knew they were always there for you in their own way. ‘Their own way’.. Your friend's presence was always a delight at gatherings, even though they tended to get easily distracted, especially by the opposite sex, as was the case tonight.

Taehyung dozed off right after Jungkook threw him into the passenger seat, finding comfort in the car seat. Jungkook maintained a slightly more relaxed speed than usual, ensuring a smooth and enjoyable ride for which would not disturb the sleeping Taehyung. Also considering his car sickness. Meanwhile, you gazed out of the window, lowering the glass to let in the cool night breeze that gently tousled your hair. The sensation was relaxing, and you savored the peaceful atmosphere inside the car, interrupted only by the occasional sound of Taehyung's soft snores.

Jungkook made a slight adjustment to the rearview mirror to catch a better glimpse of you seated in the back, who seemed captivated by the nighttime scenery. You appeared so gentle and fragile. His eyes held a hint of desire as he silently observed you through the mirror.

Suddenly breaking the silence, the man in the driver's seat asked, "What's the address?" This unexpected interruption caused you to shift your focus to the driver. You couldn't help but notice his penetrating gaze in the mirror. He didn't come across as very outgoing; rather, he had a reserved demeanor with a touch of intensity and mystery. The look in his eyes spoke volumes, and it compelled you to engage with him further. You had this thing towards danger, mixed with your dumbness in making choices which always leave you in trouble.

You took a few moments to maintain eye contact with him through the rearview mirror before responding."113-5, Geonyeongapateu" rolled off your tongue smoothly.

Your eyes hesitated to look away from his intense gaze. Despite the slightly ominous aura he exuded, you found yourself drawn to the thrill of the unknown.

After a brief staring match, he shifted his focus back to the road ahead. The remainder of the journey passed in silence once more, but this time, a peculiar tension lingered in the air, adding an intriguing twist to the atmosphere.

The car came to a gentle stop right in front of your apartment building. With a graceful movement, you reached for your purse and stepped out of the vehicle. As you prepared to bid farewell, a thought crossed your mind - a cherry on the top. You decided to tap on his side window. He promptly lowered the glass, revealing a mysterious smirk playing on his lips, likely a predator looking at its prey. However, in this scenario, there was no prey in sight.

"Thank you for the ride," you expressed with a matching smirk, hoping to reciprocate the energy. Despite your attempt, his demeanor remained unchanged. He simply acknowledged your gratitude with a nod, almost a nod, before swiftly driving away. It seemed a bit abrupt, not even a simple 'You're welcome' thrown your way.

That moment marked the first meeting , a moment that seemed to be the only one. However, fate had other plans in store. He didn't step foot into your life to just leave randomly; it was his grand entrance into your messed up existence, poised to mess it up even further.

The next day, Taehyung woke up feeling like he had a tiny construction crew working inside his head. No matter how much water he chugged, that pesky headache just wouldn't budge.

He finally made his way to the living room, and The aroma of freshly made tea hit him like a ton of bricks. It was like all his worries melted away in an instant. Taehyung practically sprinted to the kitchen, where he found Jungkook standing there with a mug of tea in hand. “Jungkookie made Tea for his hyungie. How sweet”. He basically snatched the mug from Jungkook, took a sip, and his whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Dude, you've got serious skills in the kitchen," he told Jungkook, giving him a friendly pat on the back.

“Oh please hyung. I'm shy," Jungkook remarked, his eyes rolling in jest. He shared a knowing look with his brother. Taehyung settled into a chair at the kitchen table, where the daily newspaper lay open. The front page prominently displayed the headline 'The Shadow Reaper case: Another dead end.' This ongoing series of tragic events has gripped the city of Seoul, leaving its residents in fear. Despite the relentless efforts of the police, the mysterious perpetrator, dubbed 'Shadow Reaper,' continues to evade capture, leaving authorities and citizens alike puzzled and anxious.’

The mere mention of 'The Shadow Reaper' never failed to send shivers down Taehyung's spine. It was a name that filled him with fear and a tinge of guilt. Each time he caught sight of that name on the TV or in the newspapers, it only served to heighten his anxiety.

Taehyung harbored a deep-seated fear of losing his younger brother, Jungkook, the one and only murderer behind the name 'Shadow Reaper.' And his fear that one day the world will acknowledge the truth feared him to his bones. Whenever Jungkook returned home with blood on his hands, with news of yet another murder attributed to the Reaper, Taehyung couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt in his chest. He believed he could have intervened, could have helped Jungkook overcome his struggles and dark thoughts. Instead, he allowed his brother to seek his own form of justice, a decision that weighed heavily on Taehyung's conscience.

Despite the turmoil within him, Taehyung found solace in the fact that the victims of the Shadow Reaper were people who had committed heinous crimes - rapists, sex traffickers, and child abusers. Jungkook took pride in ensuring that those who deserved punishment were held accountable, even if it meant taking matters into his own hands.

In the midst of this complex situation, Taehyung grappled with conflicting emotions, torn between his desire to protect his brother and his own sense of responsibility.

It never failed to amuse Taehyung how Jungkook had managed to carry out those actions without a trace left behind for the authorities to follow, ultimately diverting any suspicion onto Jungkook. The investigation had been ongoing for about three months now, and with the current circumstances, it seemed likely that it would turn into a cold case. Fortunately, Taehyung found solace in the fact that his actions were not harming innocent individuals.

Jungkook, sensing the sudden shift in Taehyung's demeanor, turned to look at him. He noticed Taehyung's gaze fixed on the headline, a mix of anxiety and fear evident in his eyes. "Hyung," Jungkook spoke softly, trying to reassure him, "You don't have to worry about that.

"Jungkookie, I'm feeling anxious. The investigation is really picking up steam. What if... they discover everything?" His voice wavered as he struggled to voice his concerns, the words feeling trapped in his throat.

"Don't worry. Look at this headline. They've hit a dead end now. Hyung, we're safe," Jungkook reassured him, trying to ease his worries.

Taehyung's lips quivered as he questioned, "Why did you have to dump the body in a risky way? You could have done it secretly. Missing persons cases are easier to handle than being suspected of serial killings. I can't bear the thought of losing you, Kookie." Jungkook sensed the pain in Taehyung's voice and paused what he was doing to sit across from him.

"Hyungie, look at me," Jungkook implored, his affection for Taehyung evident in his eyes . "You won't lose me. If you want me to shake off the police tailing me, I'll figure it out. We can make them close the case as a cold one. But I can't promise to stop the killings. But I won't be caught red handed" He took a moment, gazing down at his hands resting on the wooden table. "I'm sorry, Hyungie. I've put you through so much.

"Don't say that, Jungkook," Taehyung gently urged, his voice filled with concern as a silent sob escaped his lips. Taehyung always saw Jungkook as a cherished brother, someone he vowed to protect at all costs. However, there was a lingering guilt in Taehyung's heart for not preventing Jungkook from embracing a path of darkness, allowing him to delve into the realm of killings, nurture his psychopathic tendencies. Despite Taehyung's self-blame, Jungkook firmly believed that his choices were his own burden to bear, not Taehyung's.

"Look, I'd be soo glad if you just ditch all this slaughter. I get it that this hitman job brings in good money, but the toll it takes on you, the countless lives taken... it's so messed up. And I always want you to find a way out of this chaos," Taehyung expressed, his worry evident in his eyes.

"I know, I'll try hyung. I'm too caught up in this web. But trust me. I'm trying" Jungkook reassured Taehyung, placing a comforting hand on his. Deep down, Jungkook grappled with the uncertainty of overcoming his addiction to torture, murder, and gore. Yet he held on to the thought for change somewhere in the corner of his dark heart, if only for the sake of his hyung, the one person who gave him a reason to live.

The one person who he couldn't bear to lose

Jungkook and Taehyung first met at the orphanage. Jungkook's recollections of his life before the orphanage were a little more than nothing, clouded by the tragic events that destroyed his family, which was once cherished with happiness and love. His parents tragically lost their lives at the hands of heartless criminals who invaded their home under the cover of night. His father, was the victim of their brutal attack, endured 18 stab wounds, 11 of which pierced his chest, while the rest inflicted harm on various parts of his abdomen. The attackers completely stole the family's belongings. To compound the horror, they abducted Jungkook's mother, leaving behind a scene of unspeakable violence. When law enforcement arrived, they were met with a horror sight - a 4-year-old Jungkook, lying head injured and bleeding beside his deceased father, his mother nowhere to be found. Tragically, three days later, Jungkook's mother was discovered, a victim of a heinous crime, having suffered a brutal murder and sexual assault by multiple assailants.

The authorities struggled to track down the culprits, ultimately leading to the closure of the case. The injury he sustained had a profound impact on his memory, causing him to forget many cherished moments spent with his parents. However, one memory remained vivid in his mind, clear as daylight - the events of that fateful night. The night his life turned upside down. Despite this recollection, the young four-year-old was left in the dark about the fate of his mother. Those around him were hesitant to disclose the grim truth, as they chose to shield him from the harsh reality by convincing him that the tragic incident was merely an occurrence labeled as a ‘Murder’.

Jungkook was placed in an orphanage due to the absence of suitable relatives to care for him. It was within those walls that he crossed paths with Taehyung, the one person who showed genuine concern for his well-being. Who later became the only guardian figure in Jungkook's life. Even though Jungkook was just two years younger, Taehyung gladly took the role of a protective older brother, shielding Jungkook from the hurtful remarks made by the older children at the orphanage regarding his mother. At that tender age, Jungkook was oblivious to the true nature of those comments until he uncovered the harsh reality himself. The intense fury that surged within him upon this revelation triggered a sinister side of his once innocent heart. A more grotesque side.

Taehyung vividly recalled the moment when 11-year-old Jungkook, fueled by a mix of grief and rage over the disgusting comments made upon his late mother, led into a drastic act - smashing a glass bottle on the head of the offender, Who was the warden of the orphanage himself. The intensity of the situation escalated to a point where Jungkook was accused as a serious threat to the orphanage. In the midst of the situation, Taehyung merely mistook the outrage of the boy as a ‘Hormone induced action’.Despite the shock and fear evoked by Jungkook's behavior, Taehyung's unwavering affection for him endured. Following the incident, Jungkook faced the consequences of his violent outburst, spending a challenging year in a Juvenile Detention Centre. Throughout this period, Taehyung grappled with constant concern for Jungkook's well-being, particularly troubled by the company he was forced to keep - surrounded by peers with criminal inclinations, Who could clearly be the victims of Jungkook's outburst. Or vice versa.

Jungkook was a mere 16 years old when Taehyung celebrated his 18th birthday. It was a significant milestone for Taehyung, who had finally found a place to call home and was preparing to move out. However, Taehyung's heart couldn't bear the thought of leaving his younger brother behind in the confines of the orphanage. Determined to rescue Jungkook from that desolate place, Taehyung made the courageous decision to bring him along on his journey to a brighter future. The way Jungkook's eyes shined that day… It was brighter than their future.

After their departure from Daegu, the brothers started a fresh chapter in Seoul. Taehyung, driven by ambition to provide Jungkook and himself with a peaceful life, prepared for and successfully passed the entrance exams with an outstanding rank. Opting to pursue a degree in Computer Science at the prestigious Seoul National University, Taehyung's decision marked the beginning of a promising academic journey for both him and Jungkook in the bustling city of Seoul. The Seoul where they dreamt to reach one day.

He secured a part-time job to provide for himself and Jungkook. As time passed, Jungkook completed high school and successfully gained admission to Pusan National University. Despite the physical distance, Taehyung couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in Jungkook's academic accomplishments, particularly in earning his degree in criminal law from one of Korea's esteemed universities. By blood they might not be related. But by heart, they were for each other.

Their life seemed to be falling into place seamlessly, with Jungkook graduating, finding a job in a law firm. However, amidst the apparent success, Taehyung failed to detect the subtle signs of an emerging personality disorder in Jungkook. It wasn't until the issue had escalated beyond control that Taehyung realized the fault.

Taehyung was sprawled out on the couch, mindlessly flipping through channels as if he had all the time in the world. Meanwhile, Jungkook was tucked away in the corner, engrossed in Taehyung's laptop like it was his own personal playground.

Out of the blue, Jungkook piped up, "Who was that girl?" without even tearing his gaze away from the screen. Taehyung, finally roused from his remote control reverie, shot back, "What girl?"

Jungkook couldn't resist digging for more info about You. It was like watching a detective at work, except with more drama and less Sherlock vibes. Taehyung's teasing was something Jungkook couldn't tolerate. Taehyung went back to casually flipping through channels like he wasn't dying to spill the tea. "An old friend," he said with a chuckle, trying to act all nonchalant.

Jungkook's tone came across as casual, as if he was simply inquiring. However, beneath the surface, his curiosity was piqued, eager to learn more. Yet, the thought of enduring Taehyung's playful taunts all day made him hesitant to delve deeper.

"Ah friend I haven't heard about?" Jungkook finally turned his attention to Taehyung, who was casually lounging on the couch. "How come I never heard about her before?"

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, though he didn't mind the questioning. "Well, I actually met her during my senior year. You see, you were in Busan at that time, so I couldn't really introduce her to you. And after we graduated, we sort of lost touch," he explained, shifting his gaze from the Television to Jungkook , who had the hood of his gray hoodie up.

“ Is that all you wanna know, little shit?” Taehyung laid back on the couch like he owned the place. Well, He mostly does.

"Oh, I'm not 'little,' or ‘Shit’ just so you know," he playfully hissed, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Why the sudden interest in (Y/N)?

Don't act like you didn't eye fucked her through the mirror. I was melting between the tension you two had" Taehyung teased, sitting up from the couch. During the car ride, Taehyung had pretended to be asleep at one point, a typical Taehyung move.

With a smirk forming on the younger one's lips "She works at Kang Industries, huh?" Recalling bits and pieces from the previous night, Taehyung struggled to remember everything that had happened, except for the moment he met you and when Jungkook had kindly dropped you off at home.

“Yes. If i remember correctly” Taehyung scratched his head, a little confusion lingering in his statement.

"How did you know? Are you keeping tabs on her online?" Taehyung's question hung in the air without a response. However, he quickly noticed something peculiar. "Hold on a second. Is that my laptop?" The realization dawned on him suddenly, causing a wave of surprise.

"Don't worry, Hyung. I just needed to find some information, that's all," the man reassured him calmly.

"You could have used your own laptop, you know," Taehyung remarked as he made his way over to the man relaxing on the bean bag, taking a seat beside him. "Ah, so you were checking up on her online after all! I had a feeling," Taehyung teased, playfully snapping his fingers in front of Jungkook's face. Jungkook swatted his hand away. "It's probably safer to do that from your account," Jungkook quipped with a smirk. "And by the way, I have some matters to discuss with this 'kitten'."

"Matters? Oh, come on. You mean a hookup," Taehyung remarked with a mischievous glint in his eye as he playfully nudged Jungkook's bicep.

"It intrigued me when she held my gaze for that long. There was an intensity about her, a fierce spark in her eyes. I got this urge to just unleash something within me onto her, and if I get a chance, I won't let it slip away" Jungkook confessed, his grin widening at the wicked notion.

“Don't harm her. She's a delicate person, wears her heart on her sleeve. If you dare to hurt, I'll kill you myself” Taehyung cautioned. To him, this portrayal of your personality was etched in his mind, and it fitted in with the truth. He perceived you as someone with a fragile heart, willing to offer it to anyone in exchange for a few sweetly spoken words.

It was your biggest weakness too. Love. And affection. You would blindly believe anyone who shows you love without even bothering to know whether it is love or they are just taking you for granted. One of the major reasons why your life is as fucked up as it is right now is also the said reason. A heart aching for love. And your naive beliefs

"She's tempting me more than you could imagine, Hyung. The girl is pulling me like a magnet and it hasn't been a whole day. And it's not just about her appearance. Actually it has nothing to do with how she looks. There's something about her that makes me feel completely…what should I say…… captivated," Jungkook mused, reclining as he pondered what exactly set you apart in his eyes. What made him hooked on you so much. Perhaps his inner predator had finally found its perfect prey.

"You're starting to lose it" Taehyung remarked, shaking his head in exasperation. He was done with Jungkook's tendencies. Jungkook was a master at the art of seduction, skilled in sweet talk and manipulation. But he never broke anyone's heart. He always made sure that she. Or sometimes he knows that there's no strings attached. Therefore Taehyung had made peace with Jungkook's flings. His list of body count rivaled his kill count. But Taehyung couldn't stand his reluctance to commit to a woman for something more than sex. But Jungkook's bars were set too high for that. He didn't believe in a constant relationship.

Maybe you unknowingly tugged at the untouched strings of his heart. That's what Taehyung liked to believe. The mere thought of him finding love in someone who truly reciprocates it was the only wish Taehyung wanted to fulfill before his death. The glimmer of interest he noticed in Jungkook's eyes gave a flicker of hope within Taehyung, hinting that perhaps Jungkook might finally feel those feelings, Eventually . Taehyung firmly believed that if you end up to be the one for Jungkook, you'll be the perfect match, capable of showering him with endless love and care, guiding him back to a sense of normalcy. But,

The weight of Jungkook's messed up past proved to be a burden too heavy for anyone to bear, even for someone as compassionate as you.

“But there's more to it than just that. I want her. Maybe just,keep her with me. By my side. I don't know" Jungkook shrugged, looked at Taehyung.

No matter how much time Taehyung spent with Jungkook, He found it difficult to come to terms with Jungkook's more ruthless tendencies.

“Stop looking at me like that, hyung.”

"Oh fuck. late again," you quietly sweared to yourself while briskly walking towards the office. The pencil skirt you were wearing hindered your speed. Just as you were about to reach the office door, a throat clearing sound caught your attention from behind. You recognized the person immediately - Jimin, the CEO's strict personal secretary.

"Late again?" Jimin's voice carried a hint of tease as he stood with his hand on his hip. You turned around slowly to face him, lightly scratching your head.

“ I missed the bus, Again" you gave him a sheepish smile. Jimin, with a cocky raise of his eyebrow, remarked, "Mr. Kang hasn't noticed yet. Unless I decide to report it. Should I?"

"Wait, no, no, no," you quickly responded, feeling the pressure. "One more late complaint and I'm fired. If you want to hang out more with me in the office, then shut your mouth and keep this between us.” You gave him puppy eyes and you knew it was irresistible for Jimin to go against it.

“ Fine” He scoffed ”but no more ‘Being late’ and the lame excuse of missing the bus”

"Wait, boss is here?" You exclaimed, feeling a wave of frustration wash over you at the thought of starting the day with a warning on a bright Monday morning.

"Mr. Hajoon yeah. But let me tell you, dealing with him is like walking on hellfire," Jimin replied sharply, adjusting his round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

“Like I haven't dealt with him”

"By the way, the meeting is scheduled to start at 10 o'clock. It's already nine thirty. Is the presentation all set?" Jimin's playful demeanor suddenly shifted as if someone had flipped his 'Workaholic' switch.

"Yes, captain," You responded confidently.

"And the report?" Jimin inquired.

"That too," You assured him.

You were a lot relieved that you weren't tasked with presenting the presentation. Instead, your responsibility was to prepare the PowerPoint and submit the report. You didn't even know what the point of having you in the meeting was.

The meeting itself was, well, quite dull, as meetings tend to be. It was as boring as one could imagine, to the point where you sometimes felt the urge to bang your head on the table. The room was filled with people who seemed to barely even breathe properly. Meetings like these were undoubtedly the least engaging aspect of your job.

As the meeting progressed, both you and Jimin couldn't help but notice the entrance of a new employee. She was a petite girl, exuding a striking beauty with almond-shaped eyes and full lips. At that moment, you couldn't help but think to yourself, ‘Jimin's got some competition now’.

As you observed Hajoon, it was evident that his attention was fixated on the woman's legs with great eagerness, like a hungry dog spotting a piece of meat after being deprived of food for a month. His desire to catch a glimpse under her skirt seemed so intense that one might think he would be willing to sell his company just for that opportunity. It made you wonder, are all men like this?

It was no mystery where the girl was headed after the meeting; Hajoon always seemed to effortlessly obtain what he desired. Throughout your time at this company, spanning over a month, you had walked into numerous occasions where women were seated on his desk, legs spread open. It has become a familiar sight for you by now. Perhaps it would be best to allow the boss some privacy after this. After all, voyeurism was not something that appealed to you.

Lunch break, the golden hour when you finally get to sneak a peek at your phone amidst the chaos of the day. You casually fish it out of your bag and start strolling towards the canteen. And then, out of the blue, Jimin pops up like a ninja. "Heading to the canteen?" he asks, all nonchalant.

"Yep, I'm starving," you reply, half-jokingly. Your stomach grumbled in response

"Let's roll together then. I'm starving too, could eat an elephant," Jimin quips as you both make your way.

Finding your usual spot in the corner, the one you and Jimin always claim when you're lunch buddies, you placed your orders and waited eagerly. When the food finally arrived, Jimin attacked his meal as if he'd been stranded on a deserted island without a crumb in sight. "Calm down dude. No need to inhale your food," you teased, biting back your laugh.

Between bites of tteokbokki ramen, Jimin manages to mumble, "I live for this stuff." You can't help but chuckle at his enthusiasm, digging into your own bowl of ramen, savoring each bite. It's no wonder Jimin's going at it like there's no tomorrow; this ramen is simply irresistible.

All of a sudden, a gentle ding emanated from your phone, catching your attention. Curious, you glanced at the screen to find a text notification from an anonymous number. This occurrence was strange, considering your limited circle of friends and your reserved nature when it came to making new friends .

Unknown number : Enjoying Your lunch, Angel?

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease at the unexpected message. You side-eye Jimin, who's attacking his food like it owes him money. "Someone texted me,"

"It says 'Enjoy your lunch, angel.' I think someone might be keeping tabs on me." Time to unleash your Sherlock Holmes, Jimin.But nope, he's too busy devouring his meal to care."Don't lose your cool, (Y/N). Maybe it's just an office prankster trying to mess with you," Jimin suggests, nonchalantly. "If this is a joke, someone's gonna pay.

Unknown number: No Angel, This is not a prank.

Then you were 100% sure you were getting stalked

So, you, being the curious cat you are, decide to shoot back a message, asking,

(Y/N) : Then who in the world are you?

And just like that, a quick response pops up.

Unknown number: You'll find out. Just hang tight until you're done with work.

Jimin, in his usual nonchalant manner, lets out a burp in response as you were having your detective moment. "Looks like this person will show themselves after work hours. Hey, Jimin, are you even listening?" you ask.

"Of course, I am. And I could really go for another bowl," Jimin declares with a grin.

As you got the mysterious message and suddenly you're more curious than scared to uncover the identity of this secret sender. And you've always been the cat with curiosity. And it played a major role when it came to errorism.

As soon as the clock hit five, you sprang up from your seat, bid farewell to Jimin and the gang, and sauntered out of the office. Your eyes were on high alert, scanning the area for anyone who might match the description of the elusive messenger. But, no luck. Jimin was right - it was all just a silly prank. You let out a frustrated sigh. Just as you were about to call it a day, a faint whistle caught your attention from behind.

You turned around and there he was, a dude decked out in all black, wearing a black helmet

, casually leaning against his sleek Kawasaki. Even his bike was as dark as night, like he took a dip in a can of black paint along with his ride.

he whips off his helmet, You catch a glimpse of his face and you instinctively blinked your eyes to make sure it's him. No way, "Jung... kook?"

He put on a smirk as he strolls over with the manliest walk you've ever seen. An epitome of masculinity.

"You were the unknown sender?"

"Surprised it wasn't someone else?" he smirks, subtly tilting his head as he stands right in front of you. And hold up, how did you miss that lip ring before?

"Wait a minute, were you stalking me?" you shoot him a narrowed look, trying to meet his gaze.

"Stalking's a bit harsh, Sweetheart. I was just keeping an eye on what's mine," he smirks down at you. She's got some fire in her eyes, and he can't help but feel drawn to her. It's like a spark igniting between them, making things even more interesting. “I was wondering why it took you so long to come”?

“ Come to where?” You raised an eyebrow

“To my life,”

"Seriously, what the fuck?" you exclaimed, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. what's the deal with him?. "Oh, so you know how to swear, huh? Impressive," Jungkook remarked with a smirk, poking his cheek with his tongue.

"Come on, Jungkook. Enough with the pranks," you said, rolling your eyes in exasperation. Just as you were about to storm off, he grabbed your arm firmly. "Hold up, listen to me, Angel," he said, pulling you back to your previous position. .

You couldn't help but wonder what he was up to next. "What now?" you asked, feeling his grip shift from your arm to your cheek. His fingers traced lightly over your skin, and suddenly it dawned on you what he was after. Ah, the classic move.

It was rare for someone to openly display their interest on you or compliment you. Hence It was like finding a unicorn in a sea of horses. You might not be on the cover of a magazine, but you're not blending into the wallpaper either. You're in that spot right in the middle. In the middle of the spectrum

So, it's no surprise that the number of love confessions you've received isn't hitting the double digits. You're not drowning in them, just a handful here and there. And It was your first time when someone openly showed interest and showered you with admiration, And you stood there, basking in the glow of it all, with a little smile creeping onto your face.

He leaned in close, a mischievous grin played on his lips “What about we take a ride around the city? Me and you?”. His voice, deep and smooth, tickled your ear as his warm breath brushed against your cheek. The tension was irresistible. "Don't tell me you don't like motorbike rides." That went smoothly.

You, fired back with a smirk, "I love it."

Jungkook revved up his bike, zoomed down the road at a speed that's definitely not within the legal limit. But you only live once. The rush of the wind, the thrill of the ride - it was like you were leaving a trail of excitement in your wake. With each passing minute, Jungkook pushed the speed even further, and you couldn't help but let out screams of pure exhilaration.

You clinged to Jungkook's waist for dear life, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. It was a choice between holding on tight or risking a tumble, and you were all in. Little did you realize, in your excitement, that your hands were inadvertently giving Jungkook's abs a bit of a massage. And He was totally digging it.

After a heart-pounding ride, Jungkook finally brought the bike to a stop.

You were clinging onto him like a koala, one hand gripping his black shirt tightly. He glanced back at you from his shoulder, catching your breathless state after all the screaming. It had been ages since you had this much fun. It was just fantastic. "You enjoying yourself, Sweetheart?"

You gazed up at him, a small grin forming on your lips as you nodded. "Absolutely awesome," you managed to reply before resting your head on his shoulder. Now that you noticed, he's quite muscular. His shoulder felt like a solid metal pillow.

"Of course you loved it," he chuckled, oozing confidence. You couldn't help but ask, "So, spill it, why were you creeping on me like that?" Your head still resting on his shoulder, you awaited his response. "I thought I already told you. I was just keeping an eye on what's mine," he replied, glancing over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

Raising your head, you quirked an eyebrow, silently urging him to elaborate. "And what exactly is yours?" you prodded playfully. He avoided your gaze, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Oh, come on, you really want me to spell it out for you?" he teased. "Why did you have to sneak your way into my thoughts that night? You could've just walked away” He played his cards right, knowing all too well how to push your buttons. You watched him intently, a mix of surprise and curiosity written all over your face.” What do you see in me?”

“You think there's nothing to see in you. Which makes you more attractive. Feisty but lacking confidence. I can fix that” He bit his inner cheek as he looked back at her and studied each expression blooming on her face.

“You don't know me Jungkook. You don't know anything” You warned him. Your past was burdening your present and him blindly being interested in you was pointless.

He raised his hand, delicately tracing along her lower lip with his fingertip “I know everything”

“No you don't, there are more which you have no idea abou-”

“About your days in the mental hospital?” He instantly interrupted her “I know that too. I know what you've been through. I know your conditions. And I know that it's weighing you down. You were even reluctant to tell Hyung. But (Y/N). Look at me” you were at a point where resistance was pointless. You looked into his doe eyes, the intensity in his gaze too much to bear.

"Your past does not define you,(Y/N/N)

. It is your present that defines who you are. And I have faith in that," he expressed gently, his gaze returning to study her expressions closely as if searching for a sign of understanding.

"I gotta go home," you stated wearily, feeling utterly drained to the core. The mere thought of revisiting the events of the past was something you wished to avoid. "I can give you a ride. Hop on," he offered, grasping the handlebars of his bike and nodding towards the seat, inviting you to join him.

His Kawasaki came to a smooth stop in front of your apartment building, the engine purring softly as he cut it off. You gracefully hopped off the bike, reaching out to steady yourself by placing a hand on his shoulder. "I... Uh... Thank you for the ride around the city. It's been a while since I had such a good time," you expressed sincerely. However, Jungkook, ever perceptive, was keenly observing your every expression.

"Then we should hang out more often" he suggested, tilting his head slightly as he gazed at you with a newfound intensity. "I'll try" you replied with a tight-lipped smile, nodding in agreement. The idea of spending more time with him was appealing; there was a sense of familiarity that belied the fact that you had only met him a day ago.

"Care for some coffee or are you in a rush?” you managed to ask without stumbling over your words. "I would be delighted, Angel," he responded smoothly. Jungkook was not one to beat around the bush; he knew what he wanted, and he was unapologetically direct about it. The air was charged with anticipation as you both headed inside, ready for a night that promised to be more than just a simple coffee.

You turned the doorknob of the apartment, the hinges creaking softly as you pushed the door open and flicked on the lights. Your taste in interior design was minimalistic, favoring a clean aesthetic with a color scheme of white and gray dominating the space. Jungkook followed behind you, closing the door with a soft click as he entered. His hands casually slipped into his pockets, a gesture that exuded a sense of ease and confidence.

"Let's cut to the chase, angel. We both know it's not just about coffee, is it?" Jungkook's voice was smooth, laced with a hint of mischief as he leaned in slightly, his magnetic presence drawing you closer.

"In a way, no, it's not," you confessed, your mind clouded with desire, unable to resist his charm. Jungkook's smirk widened in triumph, reveling in the thrill of the chase. While he was accustomed to effortlessly winning over women, getting them to the bedroom. But this conquest felt different, more satisfying.

Without hesitation, he gently cupped your cheeks, his lips meeting yours in a swift yet electrifying kiss. A gasp escaped your lips, the intensity of the moment catching you off guard. Despite the whirlwind of sensations, you found yourself leaning into him, surrendering to the intoxicating allure of his touch.

His kiss was nothing short of mesmerizing, each brush of his lips igniting a fire within you, stirring up a potent mix of desire and arousal. The mere contact left you breathless, your body responding eagerly to his every move. As you sensed your panties soaking from the overwhelming pleasure, you couldn't help but feel a wave of heat rush through you, a clear sign of your body's undeniable reaction to his seduction.

In that moment, you realized how much turned on you are. ‘Just from a kiss? Control (Y/N). Well how can I?’

Jungkook's movements were swift and deliberate as he found the sensitive spot on your neck, his lips leaving a trail of his intense passion. With one hand firmly gripping your ass, he held you in the powerful embrace. You were in the grasp of a beast, ready to devour you. As he deftly tugged down the strap of your top, revealing your shoulder, his lips and teeth left a trail of kisses and nibbles along your skin.

Drawing you closer to his strong, muscular body, he wrapped you in a cocoon of his heat and desire, the unmistakable presence of his arousal pressing against you. "Baby, I'm not going anywhere," you managed to whisper, your breath hitching in your chest. Unyielding in his pursuit, he continued his assault with his lips moving from your neck to your shoulder, each touch leaving an imprint on your skin.

He gently tugged at the sheer fabric of your top, a mischievous glint in his eye after playfully teasing you in it. With a swift movement, your bra joined your top on the floor, revealing your form to him. He stood there, taking in the sight before him, finding you perfect. Always. "Such a goddess," he whispered, his words leaving a soft blush on your cheeks. He could kiss those cheeks until his lips hurt, and without hesitation, he pressed his lips against your delicate skin. In that moment of heat and desire, you couldn't help but find his gesture endearing and sweet. Cheek kisses were a rarity for you, a simple act that stirred emotions you had seldom experienced in your 25 years of life.

"Have you done this before, or you want me to go gentle on you?" he inquired gently, pulling back slightly to give you the opportunity to express your desires. What a gentleman. "The choice is yours," you found yourself mesmerized by the warmth of his soft brown eyes, a gaze that could easily captivate anyone. "But I am not inexperienced."

“Then this night is gonna be long. For both of us”

@looneybleus