#heartbreak is right around the corner Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[redhairedgirl95]

writing update

Chapter 6 is all ready and proofread! Who's excited for tomorrow? I am <3

Here's a little treat:

“I could never hate you, Radius.”

(If you say so, Luna ... But don't we all know how it's gonna end? </3)

[tojikai]

Sundered 7: TIES

Pairing: Gojo x reader

• Part 1  |  Part 2   | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Alt. Ending

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments, mentions of sexual assault

word count: 6.0k

And he was happy. But never the happiest.

Naomi couldn’t count how many calls she had made but the wetness in her cheeks is proof of how frustrated she already is. “Please, pick up.” She bit the inner side of her cheeks, tapping her feet on the tiled floor. Naomi regrets what she did. She regretted that she still proceeded despite knowing how wrong it was.

She warned herself not to be greedy at the beginning of their relationship. She remembered telling him they’d take it step by step, not rushing anything because they were determined to make it work. Now that she’s thinking about it, maybe he’s only determined because he wanted to forget about you so badly.

“Mom, please. He threw me out.” Naomi spoke on the phone, tapping her feet as she stood in the middle of her room with her things around her. She took all the things necessary and left. Satoru would probably put everything she left in the trash but that’s the least of her concern right now. She lost everything she had with Satoru and it’s all because of her stupidity.

“What did you expect? You sexually assaulted my son and you want me to help you?” The woman hissed at her. Naomi was naive; thinking that she’ll have her back just because she wanted her for Satoru. “If anything I could even get you arrested—” She began but Naomi was quick to defend herself.

“You’re part of this. Didn’t you basically tell me to use a child to keep your son?!” Tears of anger pooled in her eyes as her hands shook in fear, fury, and heartbreak. Naomi remembered when Satoru’s mom would free her schedule so she could spend time with him and Yui. She would suggest activities and let Naomi tag along and that’s how they started to fall for each other.

Or rather, that’s how she started to fall for him while he just wanted an escape.

“But I never told you to do that to my son! Naomi, do you really think someone would side with you on this?” Every corner of Naomi’s room felt like they were closing in on her, ready to squeeze her till she was nothing but dust. Of course, no one would be with her. No matter what Satoru’s mother told her, she still chose to follow it so the blame’s on her.

“For someone who finished school with flying colors, your mind is dull.” She chuckled, letting Naomi hear all she truly is. “You got a pretty face, you know? That’s another reason why you caught Satoru’s eyes easily.” At that point, Naomi didn’t know if it was still a compliment. She’s pretty and kind, and smart and perfect for him, like she said. But why can’t she have all of him?

“But I’m afraid that pretty face would be useless now. If I were you I’d go start over alone somewhere far.” She clicked her tongue, cutting Naomi’s thoughts off every time she tried to voice them out. “Like, imagine graduating only to get jailed over some dumb, desperate shit? Naomi, you screwed up. And that’s why you lost all chances with my son.”

Naomi shook her head, the warmness of her emotions dampened the smooth skin of her face. “No, you made me…” She breathed out, covering her mouth before running her fingers through her hair. “I didn’t want to do that…No.” She bawled and bawled but the line only went more and more silent.

She fucked up and she’s right. The shame and the loss of self-respect are not something she could live through in this city. She must go, she must leave. Like how they always did when she was a kid; fleeing the scene with her embarrassment of a family who can’t live without humiliating them. They have no decent source of living so they gotta strive.

Now, she’s doing all of it again, all while losing all of it. Again.

“Save yourself. I won’t let them know of your plan. After all, you were once of help to my child. I’m truly sorry.” With that, the call ended; with Naomi sitting on the floor as she put a balled hand over her throbbing chest, and the thought of going away to start as someone new settled in the middle of her head. Naomi learned a lot from all the troubles she went through.

This time, she learned that you could have someone's body but their heart could still be somewhere else.

—-------------------------------------------------

“What is it?” Satoru heard through the phone speaker. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes, letting relief flood his veins and calm his shaking flesh. “When are you free?” There was a long pause before Satoru’s father replied, “You know I can make time.” Clearing his throat, Satoru massaged his temples, thanking the heavens that his nightmares weren’t real.

“Let’s meet later if that’s alright.” He whispered, scared that his voice would break. Satoru knows that he is the only link between the relationship of his parents. Just like how his older brother would’ve been the connection his father was hoping to keep his first, real love close. Until they got tired of it all; the matters brought by his mother. And him.

Just like how she drained Satoru out. And right now he just wanted to run away from her too.

“Of course, just send me the exact time.” Satoru nodded as if his father could see him, “Are you alright?” He asked after a few seconds as if sensing the trouble from his son’s voice. “Yeah, much better now, at least.” Satoru rubbed his eyes as he shook his head, eyeing the negative results of the vaginal swab test. “Dad, Mom can’t know.”

He’s almost sure that the request would prompt questions from his father, knowing that he’s aware of how close he is to his Mom. But he was surprised when he simply agreed, murmuring an “Okay.” before letting his son end the call. Satoru pictured him on his office chair as he nodded away, brows furrowed with worry like he always is when it comes to family matters.

When Satoru was a child, his nanny would tell him that his father wasn’t always so workaholic when his ex-wife was still there, co-parenting with him. After she ran away and left, his father started to immerse himself in work more. He knows that he tried with his mother since they were already there and married. But it was just never the same.

His father was happy with them. But he could never be the happiest again.

Leaning back on the chair, he put a hand over his eyes and let his frustrations stream down his cheeks. He let out a shaky sigh, grabbing the papers before looking at them in a brighter light. It’s negative. Nothing happened. You woke him up just in time. He tapped on Naomi’s contact, quickly typing his last message before attaching a photo of the results.

‘I’m mailing the rest of your things tomorrow.’ It only took a minute for her to respond with an apology but Satoru doesn’t care anymore to read it. He blocked the number as soon as he made sure that she received and read the message. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near her.

He knows he is wrong for not telling her about his feelings as soon as he can. But that doesn’t equal what she did to him and what she almost got them into. Satoru checked the clock before sending the time to his father, hoping to end all of this mess before the mess ended him.

His mother has been calling him nonstop, and he always had to pretend that he was not home during the previous days. He stayed in watching movies with his little girl, sending you videos and pictures every now and then. He slept in her room during those days, a desperate attempt to calm his brain down. His head hurts from overthinking.

Putting the papers back into the envelope, Satoru took it with him to his room. He made sure to put it in his bedside drawer, just in case some other shit comes up. If this happened before, he’d probably think that Naomi is not that kind of person. But after what she did to him, all of the trust and admiration she has for her went to waste.

Changing into something more comfortable, Satoru tried to take a quick nap. He doesn’t want to look this tired when he meets his father. He’d probably convince him to get a general checkup just to make sure that nothing was wrong. Satoru knows that if it weren’t for him, his father wouldn’t ever put up with his mom. He’d probably spend his whole life searching for his ex-wife.

A few hours of nap felt like nothing because when Satoru woke up, he still felt tired. The only difference is his heartbeat doesn’t sound like it’s trying to come out of his chest anymore unlike when he was waiting for the results. A little progress is still progress; just like how he’s trying to make it all up to you.

If Satoru’s being honest, he’d fall down to his knees and beg you to take him back if you asked him to do it. The only thing stopping him is his brain telling him how happy you are right now and how he wouldn’t want to destroy that. He can’t force himself to stop thinking about you but he can force himself to move on if it’s for you.

Satoru leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, reading a text from his father saying that he was on his way. Another text was from you; it was a picture of Yui holding up a coloring book and a crayon. He was just with her earlier but he misses her already. He wondered if he could visit when he doesn’t have other things to do even if it’s not his schedule yet.

Sending a response with a small smile on his face, Satoru heard the doorbell ring, signaling his father’s arrival. He peeked through the spaces of his window curtains to ensure that it was him before opening the door. Satoru’s still unsure of what he’ll say but he hopes that his father can give him a better solution.

Satoru thought that if he ever cut ties with his mother, it’d be for you and Yui’s safety. He didn’t think that it’d be for him too. “Dad,” He gave his father a hug as he stepped in, following his son as they walked to his house. “What’s going on?” He asked as soon as Satoru closed the door. They walked to the kitchen, settling on one of the barstools.

“It’s because of mom…” He began, placing a glass pitcher atop the counter.

—---------------------------------------

“Smile~ We’ll send this to Dada.” You cooed, pointing at the camera as you tried to take a picture of your daughter. At first, she didn’t want to do it, wanting nothing but to play with her book and crayons but when she heard that her Dad wanted to know about it, she got real creative with the pose. “You don’t listen to Mama, anymore.” You pouted at her as you hit send.

She scrunched her nose, sticking out her tongue at you before picking on her colors. You still can’t forget how dead Satoru looked when he dropped Yui off. You wondered what he talked about with his mother that caused him to be like that. Even with the soft tone of his voice, you could hear roughness that probably came from the lack of sleep.

If it concerns you, then you definitely have to know. His mother probably said something bad about you, but you doubt that it’s affecting Satoru by how he was talking and looking at you. He just looked so done with all of it, but even so, there was still a tender look in his eyes when they met yours.

You sighed while looking at your phone as you waited for a text from Toji. He’s been so busy with work lately, you’re just glad that you already talked about your problems. You had a feeling that it wouldn’t end well had it stayed unsaid for a couple more days. It wasn’t completely back to normal, but at least, you’re both trying to make it better for each other.

“I would try,” He whispered to your ear as he hugged you from behind, “I can’t promise not to think of her–“ You turned around, looking up at him with a solemn look in your eyes, “I’m not asking you to not think of her, that’d be selfish of me.” He nodded, kissing your forehead, “Alright, what I mean is, I won’t make any comparisons.” You hummed.

“I need you to stop worrying about Satoru and I.” You put your head on his chest, “I know it’s easier said than done, but I just want you to know that I am with you.” Your fingers traced figured on his skin, “I’m keeping that in mind.” He placed his cheek on top of your head, sighing deeply as he let go of you.

“I’m taking Megumi to my Mom’s.” He pushed your hair back with his fingers, making your eyes flutter close as you felt his face get closer to yours and his breath ghosting on your lips. “I’ll see you later.” He pecked your lips, “Take care, I love you.” He murmured as he gave you a long kiss, before turning to get their stuff.

One thing that you notice about Toji is that he never waits for you to say anything back. You don’t want to take the words lightly, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t feel the same way as him. You still have a long way to go, and you don’t want to rush anything. When you mention it to him, he just says that he needs you to hear it.

“Mama, look!” Your daughter pulled you out of your head as she showed you a picture of a cat, “Dada buy Yui.” You looked closely at the picture, laughing as you realized that she was talking about the cake that they ate. “Yeah, you're right! That's what Dada bought you!.” You patted her head as she giggled.

“Yui, baby. Did meemaw come to see you?” You held her small hands, trying to keep her attention to you. “No. No meemaw.” She pulled at your hair gently, trying to color it with her crayons. “What about…what about Naomi?” You can’t help but chuckle as she pretended to think, eyes looking up as she pouted her lip.

“No Naomi!” Her answer gave you a bit of an insight. You would assume that maybe she was just busy, but hearing about how Satoru’s mother reduced her workload made you doubt it. Satoru sent you tons of pictures during his time with her but you thought that Naomi just wasn’t in the frame.

If the ‘talk’ between her and Satoru didn’t end well, you could only assume that he already told her about it. He’s probably down because he wouldn’t want to hurt her like that. With all the progress Satoru has made, you doubt that he’d be so happy to have broken a heart. She was still once a friend to him.

A heavy feeling settles in the middle of your chest, like an anchor weighing your heart down, thinking about how his mother would probably find a reason to drag you for it. But if that’s the case, you’re sure that Satoru wouldn’t let harm come to you.

With how gentle Naomi was, you couldn’t think of a worse thing to happen.

——————————————

“What did she do this time?” His father looked away, clicking his tongue. If one would ask Satoru, his parents would’ve probably divorced years ago if it weren’t for him. His father knows how he is with his mother, and the thought of giving him a hard time switching between the two of them pained him.

Satoru wished that he thought about it too before he decided to go and selfishly start over with someone else. Your words the night he confessed to you echoed in his head. He came to a realization that you probably wanted to ask him to come back but held yourself back as he let you know how happy he was with Naomi.

And he was happy. But just like his father, he was never the happiest.

“I don’t really know how to open this up to you…” He bit his lip, “…But I just want this to be over, Dad.” Satoru felt so vulnerable at that moment. The only time he had a talk this serious with his Dad was when he found out about your pregnancy. It was just more of a news, unlike right now, which is a call for help.

“Naomi…Mom and Naomi talked about…” His father’s eyes coaxed him as if sensing his distress. “Naomi tried to…” Shaking his head, Satoru breathed out. “Naomi wanted to conceive. Because our relationship was falling apart.” He can see his Dad’s brows pull together to a scowl, probably getting a hint of what happened.

“She talked to Mom about it and she…” The man sat up straight, bouncing his leg like he already knew what his wife did. “She said Mom brought up the thing about how you and him got together.”It was hard to talk about this to his father, knowing how sensitive it can be for him. “Naomi told me about it. I recorded it, just in case—”

“Satoru, what did your girlfriend do?” Satoru looked down, fingers fidgeting like he was a kid again. “And your mother’s involved? What happened?” Rubbing his face, Satoru threw away all his fears. If he’s not going to fix these problems, then who will? “She got me drunk, and then she tried to sleep with me.” He blinked fast, watching his father’s face.

“I heard her talking to Mom on the phone, and I took it from her. That’s how I found out that she played a part in all of it.” It was hard for him to accept. The person he used to protect, the one he always tried to understand was the same person who betrayed and put him in this position; the position that also made his father the person he is today.

Another long silence surrounded them. His father’s hand was balled into a fist, covering his mouth as he blankly stared at the marble surface. “Where’s Naomi?” His father pulled out his phone, and Satoru could tell just what he was about to do. “I don’t know. I’m sending her things away. I’m cutting her off. I’m filing a protective order against her and mom–“

Satoru didn’t get to finish his sentence before his father spoke again, probably finally taking in the information he just provided him. “I’m divorcing your mother.” His mouth fell half-open. His voice was low, serious, and full of all the grief that he’s been feeling for years ever since he lost his first wife and son. “And I’m sending that woman to jail.” He added, raising a finger.

“There’s…I don’t want that.” He breathed out, earning a questioning look from his dad. “You don’t have to send her to jail. I…I messed up if I just told her that I still have feelings for Y/N, then she wouldn’t have resorted to that. She wouldn’t have talked to Mom and this wouldn’t have happened.” He stood up, leaning on the counter as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Satoru thought about it too when he caught her in the act. But after some reflection, he realized his shortcomings, his mistake of not just telling her about what was really going on. Even though there was no excuse for what she did, Satoru can’t help but feel like he’s the one who caused all of this to happen. And he probably really is; a victim of his foolish choices.

“But other than that, I don’t want Y/N and Yui to be caught up in this. I don’t want to expose them to this kind of problem, they’ve been through so much because of me already. I just want to do better this time.” Thinking about dragging you into another mess made Satoru feel weak. He promised to make it up to you, and he’d do anything to prove that.

His father put his phone down on the table, taking in a deep breath just to calm himself. “But you’re not stopping me from divorcing your mother.” Satoru doesn’t know if it’s right to agree to that. It felt like he was encouraging the separation of his parents; celebrating his mother’s heartbreak.

But his father’s been suffering heartbreak for years. It’s only fair to set him free.

“It’s up to you. I…” Satoru shook his head, sure of the decision he was about to make. “...I don’t think I can just forgive and forget what she did. It’s not something small, and I’m not a kid anymore, Dad.” His eyes itched, ready to let his tears go any minute. “I don’t even know if I still want to be associated with her.” He turned away, sighing as he blinked away his pain.

When he and Naomi went for the examination, he made her spill all the details regarding the said conversation with his mother. It took everything in him not to fly into a rage while breaking down as he heard of it. All this time, his mother saw him as a pawn to keep his father, regardless of whose life she was tearing down; Satoru’s, his father's ex-wife, and his first son.

“I wanted to take you away when you were a kid.” His father admitted, looking ahead as he reminisced of the decisions he made. “I wanted to just take you and raise you with your brother. Of course, with the hopes of getting my ex-wife back.” He leaned back, tapping on the screen of his phone. The bitter tone in his voice can’t be missed.

“That was my plan when I found out about you. But when you were about a year and a half old, she disappeared. All I knew was she was…tired; drained of all the chaos that our son and her were exposed to. What with having to co-parent with me as I was with your mother.” His eyes played the emotions he chose to hide away many years ago.

“I know you know about this. She and I got divorced. I thought it was over for us, I thought I made the right decision to turn away and try another start. And I was dating your mother. Then we had you.” His arms were crossed and Satoru could almost see the similarities between his feelings to how he used to feel about yours and his relationship.

“Then, realization came running for me; haunting me in my sleep. I was ready to get her back again, but it was too late. She was already gone.” Satoru absently poured water for his Dad, listening intently to his story. “So, I felt like the only thing to do was to marry your Mom. I reminded myself that still have you, I can’t just spiral down.” He smiled at Satoru.

“I tried to convince, tried to brainwash myself that it’d be fine. That I could learn to love her and I did. Just not the kind of love that lovers have.” If his mother could hear his Dad right now, she’d get shattered. Satoru doesn’t want to see that, but she would have to. She has to understand that she’s putting this man through.

“I loved her because she loves me; because she cares for you and me.” Leaning over to pick up his glass, he looked his son in the eyes. “But true love is unconditional, Satoru. It should not have a reason.” He took a sip, pursing his lips before continuing. “Reasons might vanish, and when it does, so will the love you feel for that person.”

In the middle of it all, Satoru could only think of you. Why does he love you? When did he realize that he loves you? How did it happen? He doesn’t have an answer for it. He cannot find a reason for it. He doesn’t remember loving you just because you put up with him, he doesn’t remember falling for you just because of the life you created together.

All that he knows is that one day, he woke up and he already knew that he was in love with you. Like he’s been doing it for years; like that’s all he’s ever known.

—-------------------------------------------------

“I’ll keep in contact with you regarding the proceedings.” Satoru’s father spoke on the phone, stepping inside his mansion and smiling at his helpers. He asked Satoru if he wanted to have a word with his mother but the thought of having to look at her after what she tried to make his ex-girlfriend do makes him feel dizzy.

“Honey, you’re home.” The woman tried to welcome him with a kiss and open arms but he quickly turned his head, rejecting her. “Come up to my office, we got something to talk about.” The mask of a loving wife was quickly covered with fear and dread.

“What about in our room? So, you can rest.” She nodded her head once, trying to coax him but he was tired of closing his eyes and numbing his heart from feeling the pain and regret of having to lose the love of his life for the comfort that this woman offered him before. “In my office. It’s not a small matter that I could sleep on.”

Leaving the woman baffled, he made his way upstairs, not waiting for her to walk beside him. There was a deafening silence in the big room, save from the footsteps of her husband and the door of his office slamming with such force that it sent a crack in her heart.

She took a deep breath and ran her palm on top of her dress, thinking of all the reasons she could give him just to prove her innocence. She didn’t want any of that to happen. She didn't think that Naomi could be so dumb as to come up with such a heinous and unpleasant plan.

That wasn’t even what she did to Satoru’s father. It was just working to keep them together. And that’s why Satoru came.

With her found determination, she held her head high. Swallowing the terror rising up her throat as she let her thoughts convince her that she did nothing wrong. She never explicitly told Naomi to do that, she’s the one who schemed that. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

She walked up the stairs, caressing the smooth, cold surface of the handrail. Satoru wouldn't allow anything to happen to her. He’s her boy, her pride and joy. He’s the only ally she had when his father was openly pushing her away.

Satoru wouldn’t just ruin what she and his father had because of baseless information from his sick girlfriend. Entering the office, the man sat on his swivel chair. Forehead pressed to the heel of his hand. “What is it, dear?” She smiled sweetly at her husband, appearing unaware of what he had in mind.

Oh, how she wished she was just unaware of it all. She wished that she didn't know what the problem was. She wished it wasn’t what she thought it was and that she was just overthinking because of how– “I want a divorce.” Those four words halted the spinning of her world.

“What?” She raised her brows, checking if it was just her mind playing tricks on her and making her hallucinate. “I want a divorce. And I want it as soon as possible.” His eyes no longer held any emotions towards her; no sadness, bitterness, fading love. None. Not even pity.

“Listen, honey, I didn’t think that Naomi would do–“ She took quick steps towards him, hoping to get him to listen. “So, you knew about it?” He glared at her, “You knew about it and you didn’t tell me anything?” He shook his head, and she could only open her mouth.

“Doesn’t matter. Satoru told me everything.” He stood up from his seat, towering over her as he stared her down. “It’s nothing like that–“ She breathed out, panicking. “I’m not really interested in what you told Naomi. I’m just thankful that my son’s safe.” He stepped away from her.

“What I want to do right now, is to be free from this.” It’s over for her. All the alibis that she was composing, thinking of for this moment are useless. He doesn’t need an explanation, this was simply the final push that he needed to kick her out of his life. And probably out of Satoru’s too.

“Please, don’t do this. We’re already too old to–“ She tried to grab his hand and he only grabbed it with the other to put it away. “You’re right. We’re too old, our son’s too old for me to still pretend that we want to be in this position.” Shaking her head, she stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “Please, listen. I wouldn’t do something that could harm–“

“I know,” His voice was calm. “Of course, to harm him wasn’t your intention, right?” She nodded eagerly, thinking that he was finally listening to her. “But you wanted to decide for him. You got in between him and Y/N, then pushed this woman on him because you thought you knew best for your son.” Tears fell down her eyes, and she lost all hope.

“Now, look at what you did to him.” He gritted his teeth, stepping forward to get her out of his way. “But this is not just about our son anymore. This is also about me, finally choosing to do what I should’ve done a long time ago.” Opening the door, he spoke to her one last time. “All you have to do is sign. The actions that your son will take is all up to him.”

With that, he left her with all of the nightmares of their past coming back. How he only wanted the best for his sons, how he wanted to take full custody of Satoru, how he wanted to get back together with his ex-wife, and how he only married her because she was gone. She was never the first option. She was never the original pick.

She wasn’t chosen, she just happened to be already there.

—————————————

“Hey,” You heard Satoru speak as Toji opened the door for him, nodding. This was kind of similar to how they first saw each other but you’re just glad that this time, it’s a lot calmer. Megumi ran to his father, peeking up at Satoru as he waved at him.

“Yui, your Dada’s here.” Toji left the door open to let Satoru in. Megumi was holding onto his pants, staring back at Satoru. “Yui Dada,” He picked his toy up, staring at a distance before walking closer to him. “Blue!” You laughed from the kitchen, as you packed some snacks for the little girl.

Today, you’re going to the zoo as Yui requested. The animal drawings from her coloring book got her asking you to call her Dada late at night, just to babble about it. “He’s referring to your eyes,” Toji spoke as he went back to the living room to pick up some of the toys.

“Megumi, it’s not good to point at people, what did I tell you?” He warned the toddler as he went back to your room, eyes meeting yours as you made your way to Yui's room. “Ah, yes. Yui and I have the same eyes.” Satoru smiled at the child.

“Dada!” Yui ran towards him, stomping her shoes extra hard to show him how they light up with dancing colors. “Woah! Did Mama buy you those shoes?” He opened his arms, urging the little girl to run to him and she happily did, giggling as she nodded. “It’s awesome!” You smiled at how he tried to flatter his child, encouraging her to do a little jump.

“Where are we going today?” You asked her in a playful tone as you put the lunch bags on the coffee table in front of them. “Zoo!” You watched a Satoru give her a sincere smile, patting her hair gently while complimenting her little butterfly clips. “I’m sure Megumi’s been to the zoo before.” He poked the little boy's tummy.

“Yeah. Animals. Bears and lions.” He stood behind you, peeking at Satoru as he talked. Megumi isn’t usually shy, but he doesn’t easily warm up to people. “We went there on his second birthday.” You almost jumped at Toji’s voice behind you as he picked up his child. “He’s a smart kid.” Satoru answered with a friendly smile.

“You guys should come. If you want..” It surprised you that he was initiating something like that. Although, you know that Toji wouldn’t be so comfortable with that and would most likely reject the offer, it’s still nice to see that Satoru’s trying to make an effort to get along with him.

“That’d be nice but his grandma's waiting for him,” Toji answered, chuckling awkwardly. “Dada work,” Megumi added, earning a hum from his Dad. Making sure that the bag is packed with everything Yui needs, you zipped it up. “You ready to go now?” You tapped the toddler’s cheek, feeling Satoru’s gaze at you.

“Alright, let’s get going.” Standing up with his daughter in his arms, he took the bag from your hands. He put the toddler down to hug her friend goodbye, before walking hand in hand with her outside. You laughed at how she kept squealing with each step she took, looking up to see her Dad’s reaction.

“You guys have fun, alright? I’ll just lock the doors before we go.” Toji pulled you to him, giving you a kiss. “I’ll be back later.” You put your hand around his neck, standing on your tippy toes before pecking his neck. With that, you walked out the door to join your toddler who was patiently waving at you from her car seat.

“Okay, it’s zoo time!” You wiggled your brows at her as you slammed the door shut, making her giggle. You checked your face in the mirror, trying to ignore Satoru’s soft eyes as he watched you. “How are you?” You tried to start a conversation but it was quickly interrupted as you searched around for your daughter’s binky.

“Maybe we left it inside,” Satoru spoke, opening Yui’s bag to help you find it. “Yui, where did you put it?” Remembering how she placed it on the coffee table as she showed off her outfit to her father, you started to unbuckle your seatbelts but Satoru stopped you. “It’s alright, I’ll get it.” He was already stepping out of the car before you could stop him.

Satoru jogged up your steps, knocking a few times before proceeding to open the door. Toji was just about to open it for him when he entered, “It’s Yui’s pacifier. She left it.” He put on the most polite smile he could muster, wanting nothing but to get rid of the awkwardness between them if they were both going to be in your life.

“Oh, alright. I thought it was someone else.” Toji let out a rather awkward chuckle, not knowing how else to react or what else to say. But just as Satoru uttered ‘thanks’, Toji remembered the thing he’s been thinking of for almost a week now. “Uh, Satoru,” He called, making him pause as he held the door open.

Her brows raised, waiting for him to say something. Toji doesn’t know if you’d be happy about this but it’s better than just letting his feelings, thoughts, and opinions all pile up inside of him. This is for you and Yui. Not just for him.

“I’ve been thinking about our situation with Y/N and… I was wondering if you could set aside a bit of your time for a chat?”

PREV | NEXT

taglist: @forever-war @astral-hydromancy @witchbybirth @starshinedowo @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @lost-lonnie @haitanifxn @dearsunaa @clairdelunaax @anxious-chick @tigerchaeee @gingerspicelattemix @tsukkisrightpinky @crowiechan @makimais @infinitemoonlight @iloveblogging2 @cloudsinthecosmos @uchiwife @bellaadonnas @lawlietily @lilxnvm @poopoobuttsy @yihona-san06 @luhvbot @sagekko @asbony @uhremmi

@kurookinnie @why-am-i-here-again-shitheads @galaxyfever @guenievresworld @y2kcy3brz @chocokaylarobin @hopeannalea @shizuuuuuuuu @tojirin @teapartyspilled @ackermendick @shadowarchon @vinkiesz @awkwardaardvarkforever @nvvacanesworld @wolffmaiden @underburningstars @rntrsuna @vampgguk @doulcha @creolequeen11210 @reosnagi

[catssluvr]

𝓬𝓸𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓮, spencer reid

spencer x shy!r

spencer brings you coffee <3

warnings: mentions of stress? just fluff 🫶🏻

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You sighed as your eyes scaned the paper in front of you, not bothering to take a look at the mountain of files standing at the corner of your table. You were pretty much sure that if you did, your headache - that would soon turn into a migrane - would start showing signs way too soon in the day. 7am was definitely too early for that.

This week was particularly kicking your ass and the only thing you wanted was to go back home, curl into your sofa with some takeout and watch a junkie romcom.

You couldn't help but frown at the empty chair of the table in front of yours that belonged to spencer, it was unsual for him to be this late. Well, technically he wasn´t late but knowing him he would usually arrive 30 minutes earlier.

Before you could think too much about it, Derek´s voice sounded behind you, "You alright, pretty girl?" He asked with one of his teasing but loving smiles plastered on his face.

"Yeah, just tired of paperwork. Hotch knows how to make me get as grumpy as him." You joked with a smile, trying to mask your tiredness.

"Well if you need me to kick his ass just reach out." He joked, looking aroud to make sure there was no sign of your boss before walking back to his desk.

You were about to get back to your paper when you noticed Spencer walking through the doors, clumsly carrying two coffees and what happeared to be a box from the place where they sell your favourite bagels.

You couldn´t help but smile as you watched him take small steps to his table, careful not to spill the coffee. You would have helped him if your mind wasn´t concentrated on how much you miss him lately. Aside from the fact your stomach errupts in a thousand butterflies when you see him, he is the best bestfriend in the whole world and having to cancel friday´s movie night was probably one of your most heartbreaking decisions. You usually wouldnt miss it for nothing but files don´t yet fill themselves alone so it was your only option.

Friday nights were the only oportunity you had to relax completely, Spencer was probably one of the only people that you were completely comfortable around, he understood you like no one else - which leads to the big question: how could you not fall in love with him?

"Hi." His voice interrupted your thoughts, he was now standing beside you with his signature smile, a cup of coffee in one hand and a bagel wrapped up in a paper in the other.

"Hey Spence." You smiled shyly at him, embarrassed for getting caught in your daydream. Gladly, he hadn’t ´t even noticed you staring, him being just as oblivious as you when it came to the feelings you shared for eachother.

"I- uhm- bought you this. I just noticed you haven´t been taking breaks at all, not even for lunch. And if you're not eating enough during the day, particularly carbohydrate-rich foods, you may have decreased levels of serotonin, a hormone that has a calming effect. That increases the chances of getting stressed." He rambled on, not that you minded - at all. In fact, your heart skiped a beat at the thought of him caring so much about your health that he came in late just to buy you breakfast.

"Oh Spence you really didn´t have to. But thank you so much." You grinned sheepishly as you got up from your chair, taking both the coffee and bagel from his hands and setting it on your table, blushing when his knuckles brushed against your hand. It was silly, really silly, but you couldn´t help but get flustered every time.

"It´s no problem, really." He mumbled softly before going on, "I hope i got everything right. Four cubes of ice, three fourths of milk and one fourth of coffee. Oh and i made sure to choose the bagel that contained more carbs so you would have energy for the day." He smiled proudly at you.

But honestly your attention was mostly focused on the way his fingers were fiddling with the cozy sweater that covered your arms as he rambled on. It had became an habit of his, he claimed it helped his concentration (it was a pretty lame excuse to get to touch your fluffy sweaters) but you were pretty sure he did it when he was feeling nervous about something.

Reality hit you suddenly as you realised he might feel like you were upset at him for canceling friday night, after all it was a very unusual for you to cancel plans with him.

"Hug?" Was all you could muster out, the longing you had felt throughout the week from barely even talking to him finally coming to the surface.

His hands pulled at your sweater, bringing you close to him before you could overthink your request. He wrapped his arms arounds your waist without hesitation, his face snuggling against your neck.

Your arms went around his shoulders, trying not to squeeze him too hard, as you stayed there for a few moments. He made no sign to pull away from you until you did, you loved that about him - you loved a lot of things about him.

When you were finally out of his embrace, mourning the lack of warmt right after, he smiled as he whispered softly, "Let me know if you need any of those again." Before walking back to his desk, almost tripping over his desk as he looked at you with those doe eyes of his the whole way.

How could you not fall in love with him?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

love you,

cat 🤍

[gojobbg]

friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt.7

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: im back!!! with part 7!!!! (i hope i tagged everyone who asked to be in the taglist). thank you all for your patience, and for your kind words from the last part! it brought up my mood entirely :) im sorry im so repetitive, but truly i am grateful. i hope this is well written (looked over it like 8 times)

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Wednesday 

It was around 2 A.M. when Haibara grudgingly entered the small speakeasy. 

It was a small, cozy bar inside the facade of a greasy burger joint, which Haibara gladly ordered from. He peeled the wrapping of his hot smash burger like a banana while making his way towards the back of the restaurant. The bar was separated with a curtain, and it was immensely dim. The only goers were a few guys in the corner, and Nanami at the bar itself. Haibara squinted through exhausted eyes about 4 empty cups near Nanami’s folded hands. 

Drunk, are we? He thought. 

Haibara casually laps at his greasy fingers, crumpling the wrapping paper with his other hand as he strolled over to Nanami. With a now somewhat clean hand, Haibara pats on Nanami’s shoulder. “You look like a loser, and I’m tired. Why don’t we call it a night right now and do this some other time?” 

“I can’t sleep,” Nanami begins quietly, wagging his finger in the air to beckon the bartender. “Please, two on the rocks.” 

“Whiskey? Tequila?” 

“Anejo, dark rum, please,” Nanami requests, bringing his hands up to his chin to rest on. He was pensive, but somewhat lost, as Haibara noticed the distance in his hazel orbs. It was unfamiliar, this version of Nanami. 

Haibara grimaces, already unenthused by the selection of drink, “we work in a few hours, you know. Are you sure we want to drink this much? Because I’m not.” He passes the crumpled burger paper to the waitress that came over.

“I’ve seen you come into work after getting black out drunk, and run on an hour's sleep. Sit.” Nanami grabs the seat next to him and pulls it out for Haibara. His close friend stares at him skeptically, but takes a seat. 

Haibara begins to take off his coat, the warmth of the bar melting him completely. Draping it over the back of his seat, he rubs his hands together, preparing himself for the night. “I’m never a responsible drunk, I can admit that. But you… this isn’t like you at all. What’s going on?”

Nanami emits a shaky sigh, trying his best to keep himself relaxed. But even slightly drunk, nothing to waive his nerves and the weight of his sporadic thoughts. “I feel like… I’m going crazy,” Nanami begins quietly, his eyes not daring to leave the bar. The two requested drinks make its presence known as they sat before the two men. “I just don’t understand why.” 

“Let’s start with what happened,” Haibara begins. You called Haibara, once again in tears while you explained what happened just a few hours ago at the steakhouse. You fall asleep with that same woe, allowing Haibara to nap for a few hours until Nanami calls him up. “Did something happen between you and Y/N?” 

Nanami raises his eyebrow, “how do you know?” 

Haibara’s tongue was too slick, “Y/N came back down by herself, and returned to the office because you gave her ‘extra work.’” 

“I could have, for all you knew,” Nanami huffs before taking his glass. 

“You came back down and didn’t say a single word,” Haibara grabs his own glass. “Whenever you were spoken to, you’d shake your head and say ‘repeat that.’” 

“All of a sudden you want to be meticulous,” Nanami murmurs before taking a sip of the dark brown booze. He looks up to meet Haibara’s eyes, which were stern and looking straight through Nanami. The blonde gives in, and carefully puts his cup down. “Y/N and I had a talk.” 

“Clearly.” Haibara downs his drink immediately. Might as well get drunk while Nanami was paying. He waves at the bartender and silently asks for another round. “Give me the rundown.” 

Nanami adjusts the collar of his crewneck, clearly becoming a bit shy, “No need for all of the details. Y/N, she um…- she confirmed the rumors regarding her feelings for me. They… aren’t just rumors.” 

Haibara had to bite his lip to keep a smile from forming, “is that right?” Nanami’s eyes narrowed down at his glass, staring at the large ice cube slowly melting. The struggle to keep from smiling disappears when he realizes that this wasn’t Nanami. “I assume you rejected her? Like you always do.” 

Nanami grimaces, looking away as if trying to shield his expression from Haibara. It was almost like… he was lamenting all his decisions that led him to this point. “...I did.” 

“So, what’s wrong?” Haibara starts, his words emitted slowly as he wants to carefully tread this new side of his friend. “You aren’t interested in relationships, Kento. Was there something else that happened?” 

“N-no, it's… exactly that, actually,” Nanami hums, his tone ornate with perplexity. “I rejected her… and it has made me unsettled since.” 

“What makes you unsettled?” Haibara asks, curious over this new side of Nanami. “You can’t reciprocate her feelings, so you rejected her. She can’t blame you for being honest.” 

“A-and, that’s the thing, right?” Nanami runs a hand through his hair, closing his eyes a bit. He’s drunk, Haibara noted. “I was honest, and told her… not really politely, but I told her I did not feel the way she does. But now, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“Alright, let’s make this easier for the both of us,” Haibara sharply interrupts. He slightly slams his glass down, gaining the eye contact of his dear friend. Guilty hazel eyes meet his own, but they don’t flicker away. “Just tell me what’s bothering you. Let it all out.” 

Nanami stares at him for a moment, fixing his eyes on each of Haibara’s. He could feel the pit in his stomach, working with the feeling of his drunkenness. His body felt hot, but goosebumps danced along his skin as though he was freezing. He could feel his cheeks warm, not just from the ethanol, but from his unaddressed feelings. Feelings that he’s not even aware of. Feelings he didn't even know he had. 

“I…” Nanami begins hesitantly. He downs another glass of liquor, a growl-like sigh leaving his dry lips. He was working up the courage to admit what was bothering him, but the conflict of why was keeping him silent. Haibara noticed this and quickly tapped his friend's shoulder. “Hm?” 

“Bartender,” Haibara calls, “two cups of absinthe, please.” 

Nanami lets out a chuckle, despite his feelings, “what do you know about absinthe?” 

“A lot, actually,” Haibara amuses him, “you’re not gonna get me fucked up without having at least one sweet thing.” 

“Absinthe is gonna fuck us completely,” Nanami replies, genuine laughter leaving him. A rare curse coming from Nanami. The two cups arrive, which both gentlemen take one. “You know it’s not that sweet… and it’s diluted.” 

“Just drink,” Haibara hisses, the two lifting their cups and downing the alcohol. They immediately cough, leaning against one another to suffer the coughing and the laughter that follows. “Shit, I always forget how strong it is.” 

Nanami covers his lips with a closed fist, laughter running around it, “it’s watered down for a reason.” 

After the sea of laughter calms, Haibara nudges Nanami. He could tell they were both tipsy, Nanami more so as he was here for an unknown amount of time before his arrival. “Please, tell me everything that’s bothering you. Better to get it out of your chest than keeping it in and suffering that.” 

Nanami gulps, but finds comfort in his friend's words. Haibara was right. He called him out here to do exactly that. And Nanami would feel worse if he dragged Haibara outside just to not confide in him. Carefully putting down his cup, he straightens his back and clears his throat. The liquid courage must not go to waste. 

“I mean… what am I bothered by?” Nanami whispers. The tip of his index rubbed along the rim of his glass. “We’ve grown up together, Yu. You’ve never seen me with a woman, nor was I ever really interested.” 

“But?” Haibara’s curiosity saunters with the alcohol in his system.

“I guess what really bothers me,” Nanami hums quietly, “is that of all the women I’ve met. From our school days, from outings, from work– it’s her. Why… is it her?” 

“Is it bad that it’s her?” 

“It’s not bad– not at all,” Nanami quickly says, “but how come I’ve become so taken by her? Without even realizing it? Am I that out of touch with my feelings?” 

Haibara chuckles at Nanami’s small panic, “it’s not that you’re out of touch with your feelings, Kento. You’ve never had these exact feelings to begin with, so this is foreign for you.” 

“But… as people, we aren’t that acquainted,” Nanami’s eyes lowered to his hands. “I don’t know anything about what she likes, her family, her hobbies. How can I like someone I know nothing about?” 

“Let me put it in a different perspective then,” Haibara suggests. “What are things that you like whenever you two work together?” 

Nanami looks up at Haibara and pauses for a moment. Then, his lips part, “I like that she always does things exactly as I request, even before I ask.” 

“She’s quite the assistant,” Haibara agrees. 

Nanami nods, “she is detailed in her work, extremely meticulous and doesn’t let any detail get past her.” He doesn’t pause at all this time, and keeps going. “She always knows what I like to have. I come into work knowing she has my cup of coffee, and wait for her to tell me what I want for lunch because I need not tell her.” 

Haibara fights off a smile. It was extremely relieving to see his friend finally like someone. It was almost destiny that life had kept his heart dormant until now. Until you. 

“I like that she’s honest without being rude,” Nanami says slowly, the ends of his lips forming a soft smile. "She has a sweet tooth, but she wanted to try my coffee after I confided its context to her.” 

“She has a good head on her shoulders,” Haibara concurs, encouraging him to keep talking about you. 

"I like the way she pushes back her hair whenever she has to deal with a more tedious task. And the way she smiles whenever she finishes all of her work for the day."

Haibara was cheering for you in his mind.

"I like..." Nanami begins hesitantly. "...that she's my assistant, and nobody else's." Haibara felt his own feels warm from his admittance.

Nanami finally feels his body go completely hot, his chest taking on the most warmth. He could feel his smile tickle his own cheeks, insistently forcing him to cup his mouth. It was overwhelming– realizing that he was wrong this whole time. He lied to you when he rejected you, albeit his newly discovered feelings. His free hand cups his chest, feeling his heart pumping at a speed alien to him. 

“Yu,” Nanami begins quietly. He looks over at him, face suddenly pale, “I think I’m having a heart attack.” 

Haibara finally breaks, and starts laughing. He quickly wraps his arm around the blonde man. Haibara leans his forehead against Nanami’s, soothing his nerves from the simple gesture. “You’re not having a heart attack, Kento. You’re drunk and feeling things we both didn’t think you had.” 

Nanami nudges him off, rolling his eyes. “It wasn’t like I’d never like somebody,” Nanami huffs, bringing his cup to his lips to sip at the watered-down remaining alcohol. 

“I can’t even count in 20 hands how many women you’ve rejected in the many years that I’ve known you,” Haibara scoffs. “You are sculpted like a Greek god, and yet somehow you’ve managed to waste it until now.” 

Nanami shoves Haibara a bit, but chuckles escape his lips. Haibara joins him. It felt like to have such a heart-to-heart, especially with someone like Haibara. Nanami raises his hand to the bartender, pretending to sign a check in the air. “I’m so sorry for keeping us so late for my foolishness. But, thank you very much for being my friend, Yu. I know it hasn’t been easy, but I really appreciate it.” 

Haibara rolls his eyes, “you’re right; it has not been easy, and I deserve to be compensated.” He then laughs through already soft words. “But honestly, it’s no biggie. I’m glad that you actually feel comfortable enough to talk about this with me. You’re usually one to keep to yourself.” 

Nanami’s drunk smile remains, “that’s fair. But please feel free to call out if you don’t feel well rested. I can absolutely vouch that you had a family emergency.” 

Haibara held his chest, his eyes full of surprise, “the work-obsessed and policy-abiding Nanami is willing to lie for me? You really do love me.” 

The bartender comes with the check, and Nanami reaches into his pocket for his wallet. Although under the influence, Nanami couldn’t get rid of the smile on his face. “Yeah, well. I asked you to come out, so this is the least I could do.” 

Haibara watches as Nanami tosses his credit card onto the bill. “But I have no plans of leaving you on your own tomorrow. We gotta really seal the deal, and finally be finished with our clients.” 

Nanami nods in agreement, watching as the bartender returns and collects the closed bill. “You just reminded me that I should send an email to both Marketing and Sales to warn them about our new clients.” 

Haibara nods, “yeah, they’re a bit much, aren’t they? Especially with how they stared at Y/N at the restaurant. Weird pervs.” 

Nanami, without meeting Haibara’s eyes, says simply, “it was why I didn’t let Y/N assist me during this time. A bird informed me about their crude manner with women.”

Haibara chuckles, but immediately stops and looks over at Haibara. All the dots were connecting like the stars in the Big Dipper. “No wonder you kept mentioning that Takada shacho assigned you his assistants. I thought you kept saying it to boost your rep!” 

Nanami shows a cocky grin, “that’s a given. But, I didn’t want Y/N to be a victim of that. Especially now that I understand what I’m feeling– I don’t think I would have acted decent.” 

Through slurred words, Haibara chuckles, “you’re so whipped, Kent.” 

“Whipped?” Nanami looks over at his friend, innocently tilting his head in confusion like a pup. “What does that mean?” 

Haibara gets off from his seat, his body warm and stomach satisfied. He lifts off his coat from the seat, and begins to pull on the sleeves. “Come, I’ll tell you outside.” Nanami signs the check, and retrieves his credit card. 

Walking slowly behind Haibara, Nanami couldn’t help but feel something. It felt like the cross between relief and anticipation. Suddenly, he felt at ease about the future, almost as if his unrecognized worry was now washed away. He felt hopeful that he could remedy his mistake, and start something new… with you. 

Of course, that won’t be easy, as you were currently sleeping with a hollow, broken heart. 

Taglist: [Now Closed]

@blossomedfloweroflove @numblytemporary @everyoneandtheirmothers @animechick555 @inthedarkshadows000

@m-arj-1 @julk4e @hadassery @swoozleee @angxlsatvrn

@v1x3n @s-witch-bitch @furgusonn @watyousayin @thechaoticarchivist

@simp-manhwa @5sos-wdw @ffyona1214 @phantombaby @evangel44xxcds

@ukiyodestiny @jasminelee324 @eurydxceorphxus @moonlightazriel @s3rp3ntsssc0ve

@dusty-dweller @wifenanami @bokuatsubro @ayesayman @starry-eyed--dreamer

[joonsytip]

Only for Love || Mingyu - Part 1

Pairings: Mingyu x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Husband!Mingyu, Cold Wife!Reader, Arranged Marriage au, Contract Marriage au, Divorce au

Synopsis: When an accidental discovery has your perception of happy married life crumbling down, you do what you think is the best for everyone involved. Naturally, your opinion of the best doesn't cater to your husband's. So what happens when things spiral out due to unforeseen events?

Warnings: This part is SFW, Reader is cold & blunt but also shy, Mingyu is gullible and impulsive, lack of communication, profanities, heartbreak, breakup alluding to emotional cheating.

Word Count: 6.5k

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

The sun is shining brightly in the clear sky with white, fluffy clouds drifting across in it. Just like the clouds, Mingyu has been drifting away in his pool of thoughts. As he sips his favourite beverage which he decided to get before starting work for the day, the smile on his lips never leaves.

Life has been good to Mingyu lately. His boss has boosted to him about the surety of him being promoted to the Head of Brand Marketing, a position he has been eyeing for a long time, which would also mean an upgrade in paycheck so he could contribute more in the care of his parents, pampering his sister a bit more even though they have always been content.

A notification breaks his blissful reverie and the contact name on the screen widens the stretch of his lips. It's a text from Sora, his girlfriend of five years. But his lips curl down as he reads the message stating she's extending her stay at her home for some reasons again, for the third time. A frown sits on his face at the thought of spending another series of nights in his empty shared apartment without being in the embrace of the love of his life.

Mingyu wears his heart on his sleeves. He can be defined as a pure romanticist, an absolute sentimentalist. He's liked by everyone. Apart from sculpted physique and height, he's lovable because of his nature as well.

It's a daily routine, he walks into his workplace and a swarm of bee like people come to greet him, some wanting just a glimpse of him, some wanting to get running guidance on how to maintain work-life balance, others just to confirm that Kim Mingyu isn't just a myth but an actual existence.

It's also evident that Mingyu is popular not only because of looks but also how he always helps his coworkers, a great leader to his subordinates, an outstanding resource to his bosses and a reliable asset to the company. The year-end performance evaluation knocks around the corner and everyone is busy to clock details, set the impression right. Mingyu has a good feeling about it.

He isn't much of a private person, he flaunts everything he is proud of, never to rub off arrogantly but with a sincere smile and soft eyes. But only his family and group of close friends know that he's planning to propose to Sora once she returns, that he has already bought the ring that sits hidden in his apartment closet.

After work, he decides to visit the Game Parlour where he can't be dimed as a regular but he definitely visits it often. Mingyu had a knack for gaming since childhood, he was a pro gamer during his university days often being called to participate in the championships, winning many of them. Though he would have loved a career in the gaming industry but that teenage boy wasn't courageous enough to take the risk.

The first thing he seeks after logging into his gaming account is for a specific Id. As soon as he sees the green dot beside he puts on his headphone and pings in the chatbox.

phoenix_726 is another gamer whom no matter what Mingyu is never able to beat nowadays. He always bags the second position and when they team up, it's a given no other can be the winner.

Mingyu often throws banter to the gamer, to whom he assumes is another closely aged man from the voice he has heard while gaming. They stay anonymous to each other and share bits and frustrations of life. No one else knows but Mingyu has another friend in form him, whom he ocassionally confides in, there's an sense of goodfaith. Having a great sense of humour and gaming skills, he definitely helps Mingyu shake off his worries and have a good time. So Mingyu casually slips that he's gonna propose to his long time girlfriend soon and invites him to the wedding already. All giddy, he says he can't wait for the day to come.

Mingyu is a crying mess when that day finally comes. He's inconsolable. He feels like his world has collapsed. Not only did Sora slap a rejection to his proposal, she also had admitted to emotional cheating on him before leaving. Another batch of fresh tears stream down his cheeks when he remembers her words from before.

"I'm sorry Gyu, I can't do this anymore.", Sora says urging him to be off his knees, closing off the ring box, "I don't love you anymore, I've outgrown you."

Mingyu stands frozen. He can't believe his ears, none of the people present believe what they're hearing.

"I had gone back home to take a break from everything, to sort out my feelings. Your presence was overwhelming, it was suffocating me.", she says tearily, "And I realised a lot of things. The reason I kept delaying my return is because I was preparing myself to tell you the truth."

Mingyu snaps out and quickly grabs her hands, "I'm sorry. Please give me another chance, I'll be better.", he swears in tears, "I'd not bother you much, let's start afresh, I'm willing to do everything you want me to.", he begs, "Please, just don't leave me. I love you, I can't live without you."

Sora's sobs echo throughout the venue, "I can't, I have developed feelings for someone else. So please let's end it."

That served as the last nail in the coffin. Mingyu stands straight looking at her and says in hollow voice, "Go. Empty the apartment before I get back. And never show yourself again."

"Come on buddy, let's go my to place.", says Jeonghan, trying to get Mingyu up but failing nonetheless, "What are you doing? Come help me.", he side-eyes and hisses at Soonyoung.

The said man quickly scrumbles on his feet and they both manage to take him to the car.

"Seokmin & Hansol have gone to drop uncle, aunt & Minhee. And now we'll head to my place not Jeonghan's.", Junhui says as he waits in the driver seat patiently for the other three to settle in, ignoring the protests from Jeonghan.

Mingyu takes a whole week off, which is something he has never done before. He also hasn't got his heart crushed before so....

The guys regularly check upon him, dropping by casually. There are some calls from his family and they always keep it short. Everyone hopes for him to be okay but the pain in his chest never subdues. The whole apartment reeks of Sora. The memories flash before his eyes and he hates that he wants them back, wants to go back to the time when they were happy, when there was only love and bliss. He checks his phone every now and then in hopes of getting a text or call from Sora saying it was a mistake and she wants him back but that never happens.

Mingyu thinks he might die from this heartache.

But he tries, tries his best to go on with his life. People notice the change in his demeanor but they don't pry because of the respect they have for him.

Seokmin, one of his closest friends and also colleague visits his cabin to check upon him.

"You don't have to babysit me, Min.", Mingyu sighs as he looks at the chocolate box, his friend places on his table.

"I'm not, Min. But you don't exactly look good currently and I'm afraid more people will come for me now that my rival is lacking.", Seokmin dictates dramatically.

Mingyu laughs, "Yeah sure. The throne is all yours. Don't you have work?"

To that Seokmin instantly deflates, "I'm knees deep in work.", and looks at him with expectant eyes, "We're gonna crash at Jeonghan's tonight."

"Oh, does he know that we're gonna crash at his place for the whole weekend?", Mingyu snorts already knowing the answer.

"Why does he have to know?", Seokmin says, "We're just gonna barge at his place, that guy's bitchless so that shouldn't be a problem--"

Seokmin bites his tongue but it's already late.

"So am I", Mingyu tries to joke smiling sadly and looks at him, "You don't need to feel bad, I'm getting used to it."

The second betrayal comes to him in succession and rather quickly after a month and half later, when in the year-end evaluation it was announced that it's not him but Kim Hanjun, the relative of someone who works in a higher slash powerful position, gets promoted as the Head of Brand Marketing. His hardwork and dedication gets defeated against connections.

Since that day, Mingyu is a changed person within the work space. Once a bubbly personality now is nothing but aloof employee who comes to office and is off his desk as soon as the work hours are over. He doesn't indulge in conversations or attend adhoc works. He already has a resignation letter drafted and saved in his laptop.

Kim Mingyu wishes nothing but misery for the people who have wronged him. He wants nothing but healing for himself.

Your trained gaze alone is enough to send the person lining infront of you six feet under.

"I gave you a whole month to come up with the concept of character design and you bring this to the table.", your tone is dangerously low, "Am I supposed to show this to the Design Director?"

The girl is sweating, as she manages to speak, "I-I'm sorry, I'll get back to you with new inputs."

"How long?", you ask.

"A week. I'll make sure to complete it in a week.", she says with scared eyes.

You sigh, taking your glasses off, "We have a deadline, keep that in mind. You can reach out to Kwon Soonyoung of Art and Naration Department for guidance. Don't bother him much, he's a busy man."

Before she leaves, you add, "Mail me the initial drafts and also coordinate with Dowon, the main characters should complement each other in the terms of their appearance, weapons etc."

Your walking out of the cabin, silences the whole office. As you pass by, all people do is bow to you, they never dare to look at you, nor do they dare to strike a conversation.

Neither are you interested in indulging in any kind of talks with these people who are plain gossipers and can only think of judging people by materialistic bases.

'Ice Princess', that's the cliche nickname you've acquired, which still confuses you but you could care less. All you could care about is work and getting it done.

The day continues and it's during the lunch hour that you get a call from your uncle. And you'd have never imagined, this meet-up would lead him to say something so bizarre, something that would change your life.

"You're getting married.", he says, with all seriousness making your stomach churn.

And before you could open your mouth, he continues, "Trust me this once. You know I would never compromise your happiness with anything less."

Next day, you suddenly find yourself sitting in front of the guy you're supposed to marry.

It's strange and beyond awkward, with neither of you clearly having no idea of what to talk about, where to start and above all how did it come down to something like this.

"Did my uncle threaten you to marry me?", you stay poised, voice stone cold, eyes looking out through the window glass.

Mingyu almost chokes on air but he's quick to regain composure, "Well hello to you too and no, he didn't."

"Then why did you agree on marrying a stranger? I'm sure you don't even know me."

Mingyu sighs, "You should know that your uncle is one of the Senior Executives in the company I work for and I respect him a lot. When he came to me with the proposal, I was taken aback but you sure are beautiful and independent and I have been also meaning to settle down so I couldn't find myself refusing it."

You scoff, "Do you know what you're getting into? I'm not easy to handle, I'm more than capable of making you rip out your hairs."

You continue further, "I don't treat the concept of marriage as some sort of joke or treaty where two involved parties would make a deal or whatever. Uncle has been nagging since forever asking me to get married but I have been pushing it back because...", your voice drops and gaze wavers, "Nevermind. I'm not doing it."

Mingyu gasps at your words before gruffing out, "No please, give me a chance. Look, I have been in a rough patch for past months. I want this marriage to happen just not to bridge connections or to push through any other motives, I want to start afresh."

You squint your eyes at him, "Doesn't sound sincere at all. But I trust uncle and he must have a solid reason if he chose you and you're good looking so it's a bonus. Hence, I'm willing to give it a chance."

You get up from your seat and walk up to him, one hand on the table, other on the armrest of his chair. Hovering over you say, "Kim Mingyu, I have already warned you, if I find any discrepancy after getting married, you'll be a dead meat. I can tolerate anything but betrayal."

Mingyu instantly breaks in cold sweat.

"You're gonna do what?", Minhee asks, in case she has heard it all wrong from her brother.

Mingyu sweeps his gaze across the faces of his parents, his sister and all his friends. They all echo the same expression, they all are utterly dumbfounded.

"I'm getting married", he repeats again, "to Lee Y/N."

"And who's that?", asks his father.

"What do you mean by getting married so suddenly?", this time his mother raises her voice, "Aren't you still silently moping over that girl?"

Silence falls upon the room, until Soonyoong's loud gasp erupts through the room.

That's not something abnormal for Soonyoung to do but Mingyu exactly gets the reason behind it and gestures him to keep his mouth shut.

"Do you know her--", Jeonghan gets cut off.

"Do you have a pic of--", Hansol gets cut off.

"Did you even meet her--", Junhui gets cut off.

"Does Y/N even knows that you're marrying her?", Soonyoung is the one who gets to finish his question.

Mingyu heaves a breath after getting bombarded with non stop questions. His head spins and he hasn't even started yet.

Seokmin is unusually quiet. There's seriousness ghosting him which is rare. Once Mingyu goes out to send off his family, it's Seokmin who tells the others about the whole situation because apart from Mingyu and your uncle, he's the only one who has the grasp of the situation to the fullest.

When Mingyu returns he sees a bunch of disappointed faces except one. Soonyoung is eyeing him with uncertainty, something one could mistake as remotely scare.

"I think Soonyoung needs a breather.", Junhui says, "Because he works with Y/N, not directly but he knows her well enough."

The said man throws a very curious gaze at Mingyu saying, "Nothing is making sense to me. You two are polar opposites, Gyu. And not the kinds that fit in the criteria of opposite attracts."

"I don't support it.", Jeonghan retorts, "This is wrong. If this ever gets out, you're so gonna regret it."

"I have made up my mind.", Mingyu tells him with all certainty, "This wedding is going to happen and I'm not letting anything get in the way to my happiness anymore."

And that's how the preparations of the wedding starts.

You and your uncle meet Mingyu and his family. Though you had expected it to be another one of the awkward meetings but it turns out rather pleasing. His family is welcoming, especially his younger sister, Minhee. While everyone inside discusses the date of engagement and wedding, Mingyu slips you out of the conversation.

You both take a stroll in the neighborhood.

"How was it, meeting them?", Mingyu asks.

You walk straight, not meeting his gaze, "I like them, they have an amiable aura surrounding them.", you suddenly halt and look at him, making him halt as well, "But not you."

Mingyu creases his brows, "You'll come to like me, that's me, I'm lovable."

You scoff, crossing over your hands, "We'll see about it."

The engagement date is set to a month later, followed by the wedding.

You gradually sink back into work and it's a relief that you don't hear from Mingyu but that's cut short when you receive a text from him a week later.

So that's how you landed in your soon to be fiancé's apartment. You sit quietly, gaze constantly sweeping back and forth on the new faces.

Mingyu takes a seat beside you and starts introducing his friends. The text Mingyu had sent primarily stated something along his friends wanting to meet you, which you had bluntly rejected. But when he called you immediately after, saying that they're his extended family and it's important for you and them to get along because it's them you're gonna have to deal with more than his own family, you scolded him for good five minutes for blocking your time during workhours before agreeing on a meet-up.

So far, you've learned that they all belong to almost same age group. Seokmin is a childhood friend who works in the same company as Mingyu, practically indicating that the two are inseparable. The rest are his friends from university days, some he acquired while playing tournaments, others from being a regular at the same game parlour etc.

Jeonghan is a lawyer and eldest among all. Junhui is a dentist and you're immediately setting an appointment with him. Hansol is a photographer who tells that he's gonna manage all the shoots starting from the engagement to the wedding.

And the last one is a very familiar face. You would rather introduce him well to the others because he works with you. And that's the reason he's seated stiff throughout.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?", you ask Soonyoung.

Yes, Soonyoung wants to say this but rather he settles with it a subtle shake of head. He breathes a silent sigh of relief when he feels your gaze off him.

"I guess Soonyoung has already made all of you aware of my reputation. But that's how I am at work.", you say smiling wide.

The rest all relax and exchange smiles before going stiff again when you add, "I'm exactly the same off work as well."

Mingyu nudges your elbow but you don't bother to look at him.

"Stop scaring them.", he says in a hushed voice and you quip back immediately.

"I'm just letting them know that I may not be the perfect sister-in-law they want or picturing me to be. When expectations are less, people on both ends won't get hurt."

The atmosphere turns rigid, the room turns silent.

"What about your parents, Y/N? Do you have any siblings--", Mingyu is late to hush Junhui's failed attempt to wave off the tension. Jeonghan is about to knock his friend's head when he remembers that Junhui was absent the last time when this topic was brought up.

"I'm sorry, Y/N.", Mingyu is quick to aplogize.

You look at a very confused Junhui and tell him, "My uncle is my only family. Sixteen years ago, I lost my parents, aunt and my cousin in a car accident. Since then it's me and uncle. We do have some distant relatives but they're not in touch. Hope this resolves your query."

Checking your watch, you get up, "I'll get going."

"So soon? Please stay till dinner", Seokmin requests, "We all have cooked for you."

Your eyes go wide for a brief moment, as you accidentally speak out your mind, "No one has ever made an effort to cook for me except my uncle."

And before you could slip out, you're almost being dragged into the dinning space. There's no denying that you haven't had this good food recently. And though you say that you've no shame but you don't meet anyone's eyes when you tell them to pack some of the leftovers for you.

You sit silently, watching the crowd, observing the people. You have just been engaged to Mingyu and though it was meant to be a private ceremony, you realised how you quantify it might be completely different from your fiancé.

The only person from your side who's attending is your uncle and it'll be the same in the wedding and all other ceremonies as well. But as you have counted there are a total of thirty people who can be deemed close by Mingyu and are attending the engagement ceremony.

And you can see that it's not a bluff. Everyone is smiling wide, dancing and singing to their hearts will. What made your heart swell once again is that you can sense how each one of them congratulated you both with goodwill and sincerity.

The corner of your lips are twitching to stretch in a smile as you watch your would-be father-in-law being successful in dragging your uncle to the dance floor. It's been long since you've seen him laugh heartily, enjoy wholly.

You wonder if that's what having a family feels like. To be always surrounded by the people you love, who loves you unconditionally. To always have someone to lean onto. The trauma has led you to suppress the memories but you do remember vaguely something similar, a familiar backdrop, smiling faces and warmth.

Your heart suddenly constricts within your chest and you find yourself in the balcony catching breaths. Staring into the abyss of darkness, you don't notice the tears those stream down your face.

"Found ya.", you hear your now fiancé's voice and as he situates beside you. You try to discreetly wipe away the tears but Mingyu sees it.

He doesn't evade your space though, he just stands beside you, speaking nothing which is unlikely but you get what he's conveying and you're thankful to him.

The pre-wedding shoot is a headache, you think. You should be working on finalizing the designs and launch dates of the game but rather you're here at a beach, all dolled up and in a beautiful dress, hues matching to the shirt Mingyu's wearing.

You hate how warm the weather is. You hate how calming the sounds of sea waves are. You hate how soothing the gentle breeze is. You hate how beautiful Mingyu is looking just donning a polo shirt and chinos.

"You're staring a little too hard."

You get startled and crane your neck to see Hansol now changing some settings in his camera with a teasing smile on his lips.

Clearing your throat, you ask, "How long would it take?"

"For how long do you want it to go on?", Hansol enquires back and you want to duck his water underwater for acting smart with you.

A lot of things happen during the shoot. The remarkable ones are you being too shy to hold an eye contact with Mingyu for which you knew you're gonna get teased. Mingyu being scared off by some bugs, shouting, cowering behind you which settles the score, neither of you are getting teased by the other. You are almost whacking Hansol every time he takes a little too long to click the shots when you both are posing, smiling ear to ear, arms linked or hugging each other.

"I'll kill your friend.", you say through gritted teeth while smiling.

Mingyu controls his laugh as his eyes turn into slits, "Be my guest."

Hansol suggests a shot where Mingyu is standing in the water as waves graze his feet while he's cradle carrying you in his arms.

"We're done for now!", Hansol shouts, "Let's get going to the next location."

You immediately link your arms strongly around his neck when Mingyu tries to settle you down.

"My legs are aching.", you say resting your face on his shoulder, so that he doesn't get to see your face.

Mingyu squints his eyes, saying teasingly, "I thought you didn't like me?"

"Correct. I don't like you", you tell him, "I'm tired. Plus what's the use of those muscles if you can't carry me?"

Mingyu doesn't reply rather he sprints towards the rest of the people making you scream for you life as you hold him tighter.

The whole team cheers and shouts and Hansol does what he does best, takes thousands shots of you both throughout.

You open your eyes to hushed murmurs and coos only to find all eyes on you as you wake up nestled in Mingyu's chest as he's still sleeping unaware of the disastrous, as you would state, state you both are in. Your gentle push wakes him up and they inform that they're at Mingyu's address and he drops off by asking Hansol to take you home safely.

"He's good guy, Y/N.", Hansol says as the van heads towards your location, "Not saying because I'm his friend but genuinely, he's keeper."

You just give a subtle nod, choosing not to say anything.

You hate your personal space being evaded but for some reasons it's tolerable as you watch your would-be mother-in-law cooking in the kitchen of your apartment while Minhee aids her.

You stand quietly by the counter, eyes quizzically moving along with the movements of the two people present along with you.

"I have cooked enough for you to last a week.", Mingyu's mother tells you, "Stop eating those instant, frozen, junk food.", she says unimpressed as she clears out the cupboards.

"Don't tell him that I said this but my brother's a great cook, have him cook for you both everyday.", Minhee telltales.

The three of you have chat where they're the ones mainly speaking and you become an ardent listener. It feels nice, you think, to have people care for you, to evade your space when you say you hate it but actually want them to have around you.

That night when they try to head off back to home, you don't let them go, rather you insist them to stay the night and they do stay back. It's not another usual lonely night at your apartment.

Your uncle gifts you both a new apartment, ignoring your protests. He insists, you both need to start afresh, on the right foot. Jokes about your own apartments to be cool off place to crash in if you both have fights.

"Why do I have to be here?", you ask sitting unfazed along with Mingyu's friends (yours as well but you won't admit yet).

Mingyu whines, "Who else would finalize on my wedding suit? They're of no use", he points at his friends who jokingly throw hurls at him, "And I don't trust her choice.", he says pointing at his sister who's too used to his antics to be bothered.

"Such a baby", you roll your eyes, "I have a meeting at 5. Be quick."

Oh you did well in muffling the gasps every time the curtains raised and Mingyu appeared in trying the attire.

Let me buy them all, is what you wanted to say. But sadly, you had to settle for one. But Mingyu doesn't get the privilege to choose your wedding gown.

He sees you walking down the aisle along with your uncle. Mesmerizing would be an understatement he's beyond that. He is nervous and shows. You're nervous as well but as always you're a master in hiding it. The vows are exchanged and as the crowd chants, your lips meet for a brief moment.

Your uncle starts off with teary speech, making you and almost all others cry silently. You walk up to him hugging tight because he has the only constant throughout your life, raising you as his own child, to be present and cheering on you on every important event of your life.

Mingyu has a long list of people lining up for giving speeches for him but what surprises you is even though they share tales about him, they include you in bits and your heart feels at ease thinking about how you might have found a family and people you can call them as your own. Which also leads Soonyoung to get too comfortable, almost getting an earful from you in front of the guests if Mingyu didn't intervene for daring to challenge you for a gaming match with all cockiness. Man lives as if he has nine lives.

You meet his colleagues and he gets to meets yours as well. Mingyu wonders, he has been wondering for as long as he has known you that where did you seek solace on hard days. How come you had no friends, not even one. Or maybe you had, but somehow you've lost touch. He can only speculate.

The first week for the newlyweds goes by settling into the new space. Everything sets in fine and you both divide the duties. Mingyu would be in charge of cooking, you'd do the groceries and he'd join in too obviously. You'd both would be aware of the each other's whereabouts and respect the spaces.

"I'm fine with everything and I want to make this marriage work.", Mingyu's tone changes to a defensive one, "Also, please never go to my office room, no matter what.", he says pointing towards the same, "It's a request and I hope you'd respect it."

You nod understandingly, you're also not a big fan of people messing or evading into your workspace so you agree.

Mingyu has gotten used to it but not the others so when his friends gather at your home one night to catch up they're gurgling out the drinks they're having when you hear you speak.

You call Mingyu, Husband.

"Husband!", you call him seated on the couch. Ignoring the turning of heads, as soon Mingyu comes in your sight, you say, "I have ordered the takeout, none of you needs to spend time in kitchen, rather spend time with each other."

Everyone smiles wide. The rest throw a knowing glance at Mingyu. You take it as a cue to give them space and get up to leave the room.

"I'll take a walk outside. Have fun catching up.", you say stoicly, already beelining towards the passage, "Will be back once the food arrives."

"You're one of us, Y/N. We don't need any space but if you do, then please go ahead..", Jeonghan says making you stop in tracks.

You turn back and sweep gaze among the faces, specially your husband's for any disagreement and when you find his pleading eyes, you see yourself beelining back to your seat.

Work's hectic as ever and you both try to adopt into the change of lifestyle. But what's not happening is work - life balance. With the new gaming launch event nearing, you are expected to stay in the office till late. It's nothing new but something is actually new.

And that's Kim Mingyu. You're still getting used to receiving texts asking about your expected time of return, extending the offer to pick you up if needed. It's also nice to have food served on the table when you reach home.

It's warm when you sleep into the sheets quietly but your husband somehow finds you, holding you in his arms albeit of his sleepy state.

"Why are you hugging me?", you ask with your voice muffled against his chest one morning.

Mingyu has just stirred from his slumber when your voice reaches him. He gets to look at the top of your head and cranes his neck to see the tangled limbs.

"You were spooning me as soon as I got into the bed.", you further add.

His eyes widen, as he tries to untangle himself mumbling apologies, "I'm sorry. I have a habit of clinging while sleeping. I'll try to be careful from today onwards."

And he misses to notice that one of his hands circling your waist is now in your grip, "Who told you to retract?", you down your head further into his so he doesn't get to see even an inch of your face, "I was just asking."

Mingyu goes silent. He's not in love with you and he knows neither are you. But moments like this make him realise something.

He reminiscences another fairly recent memory.

"There's something bothering me.", you come into his view as he pauses the movie he was watching.

Your eyes don't meet his, "I have noticed how your parents deflate whenever I call them uncle and aunt."

Mingyu listens, unsure of where this monologue is going.

You now turn to the front facing the television, your back facing him as your voice toning down as you continue, "I know being their only daughter-in-law they have some expectations. But I'm not good at coining terms, especially the terms like mother and father since I haven't... When I haven't--", you pause sucking in a sharp breath.

Mingyu gets up and turns you to face him, "You don't have to try so hard. Be easy on yourself. There's plenty of time and my parents do understand where you're coming from. And trust they're not disappointed or anything."

And he proceeds to do the most assuring thing, he knows of. He softly pecks your forehead.

Your eyes widen and you grab his arms gaping at him.

"Do it again.", you blurt out and though he smiles a grim realisation gnaws on Mingyu.

Many of the basic acts of proximity and affection, you're experiencing them for the very first time, hence it always comes to you as a surprise. Mingyu's heart constricts in the chest because as a person who has been surrounded by love and people, he can't fathom how you have managed to live on your own, in your lone company.

You're six months into the marriage and things have changed. Changed for good, you think.

You think being in the office and being at home are not the same anymore, it does make a difference. It's not bad, having someone checking upon you. It's not all bad having someone cooking for you. It's absolutely amazing to hear someone rant out, eating your ears off about work and whatnot and not expecting any words of comfort in return.

That someone being your husband. You think your husband is bearable, maybe a little more than bearable.

Mingyu sits still with the phone in his hand as his eyes trace over the photo repeatedly. There's an ache in his heart, he can feel his chest tighten. There are tears pooling in the corner of his eyes, throat closing up suffocating him.

During the lunch break, just to kill some time Mingyu decided to scroll through his abandoned social media account, the ones he hasn't bothered to check since the breakup. And he it turned out to be a mistake as the first picture that popped up on his feed was of the one Sora posted flaunting her new man.

And as he clicks on her account, it breaks his heart to see all of the photos they've posted together or if them clicked together were gone. As if it never happened, as if none of that were true whereas his account is still all about her and their memories.

"It's time for you to delete those pics as well."

He hears Seokmin's say.

"Are you seriously wasting your energy on her?", Seokmin takes a seat beside him, "When you're married and have a such a wonderful wife waiting for you at home?"

Mingyu gives melancholic smile, "Home? Sora was my home, Min. It was supposed to be her waiting for me at the end of day."

"You're sounding like a loser. And I might throw hands at you for uttering nonsense.", Seokmin gets up abruptly making the chair screech, "Don't ruin your present by living in the past."

Dealing with you is not easy and Mingyu had decided to marry you knowing all ifs and buts. At the start it felt more like living with an uncooperative roommate. Then, as days passed he became aware of your habits. Nowadays he thinks you've become habituated to him and it's a good sign but what tires him out is it's only him who's trying.

"I got promoted, Y/N!", Mingyu says all excitedly as soon as you're back from work and into his sight.

"Oh, congratulations.", you say plainly.

He waits with expectant eyes for you to say more but you don't. You don't pat him, neither do you smile. You just simply saunter towards the shared bedroom to freshen up. Eyes turned dull, heart heavy, dejected Mingyu goes to bed empty stomach, his appetite now gone.

You're still cold, to the extent that it's freezing a strain on the relationship. You don't open up, you never appreciate his efforts openly, neither are you interested in his matters. All that matters to you is work.

"Mom was asking if we could visit them anytime soon. As you know their wedding anniversary is approaching and I was thinking if we could spend some days with them around that time?", Mingyu asks you on a call one day when you had to work at office on a weekend because of some changes in timeline.

"You can go.", you tell him, "I don't think I would be able to attend the anniversary party."

"Could you please try? It would mean a lot--"

"Mingyu, you know I can't. I'm sorry.", you say hanging up.

Mingyu doubts if he'll ever love again, he doubts if he'll ever love you. And being a person who wears his heart on his sleeves, he wants being vocal and receiving affirmations, you do neither. Though he knows there are many things which you're experiencing as a first but that doesn't justify anything when he's trying, you should try as well. He contemplates every night if made a mistake by marrying you, if he was too much consumed by greed.

The company's hosting a dinner and everyone's expected to bring a plus one. Some take the opportunity to introduce their partners to their colleagues, for others it's free dinner and socializing. For the past years Mingyu attended the event just to flaunt his partner, Sora and make her aware how much he's looked upon at his workplace. He liked the way people worshipped them, deemed them as the perfect couple, he lived for the vibe of it.

But this year though there's a lot of anticipation about him bringing his wife, Mingyu attends the party alone. He hadn't informed you about the party, simply because he doesn't want you to be here. He's still disappointed at you, plus he knows you wouldn't even care to come even if he asked so to save his dignity from another rejection he decides not to inform you. And if your uncle asks, he'd make some excuse.

The dinner party swings on and it's kinda mundane for Mingyu with Seokmin also not attending because he's out of town until he hears everyone applauding. His gaze follows the crowd when he sees your uncle entering.

And he instantly freezes on the spot when he sees you walking behind.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

[autumnywinter]

Hiii! <3 Could you perhaps write something with Reader cheating on yandere Jingyuan?

I hope this isn't ooc! I love writing for HSR characters but I don't do it often.

Yandere!Jing Yuan x Reader

Tags: NSFW MDNI, cheating, spanking, patronizing behavior, light degradation, sex as punishment, gender neutral reader, implied kidnapping

You couldn't deny you felt shame. Jing Yuan was so sweet, so doting, but he could get so busy sometimes. You loved him, you truly did, but occasionally, it was too tempting to not hook up with someone else. Just a fling, that's all you wanted. Only enough attention to make up for the lack of his while he was on duty. You didn't expect anyone to get murdered over it.

Things were supposed to go out smoothly. Your husband would be gone for the weekend, so you'd have a one-night stand and sneak back home at midnight. You didn't bother hiding the hickeys since you didn't think he'd be home.

However...

"Welcome home, dear. Did you have fun?"

He was there when you walked in. He was lounging on the sofa, eyeing you as you came in, his figure relaxed with one leg crossed over the other. There was no anger on his face. On the contrary, he smiled and looked more content than he had been in a while. But you could see it.

The glimmer in his eyes, the dangerous red that clouded his pupils. He wasn't angry. He was furious.

You flinched, wanting to shrink away into your coat. How were you supposed to explain this? "I..." Your voice came out in a rasp, throat dry and tight. You swallowed down your fear and tried again. "Yes... I did."

Part of you was still foolishly hoping he didn't know about your disloyalty, that you were overthinking his mannerisms.

Perhaps he just happened to be home early because he wanted to see you, and not because he rightfully suspected anything. Maybe you could still cover this up.

He rose from his seat and came towards you. "Did you now?" His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his chest. Your hands shook as they hung by your sides. "Would you like to know what I did, honey?"

It wasn't a question. He didn't care if you did or didn't want to know. He was going to tell you anyway.

His face pressed into your neck, inhaling your scent, humming against your skin. "I followed you." His lips peppered your neck with kisses as his grip tightened. "I have lots of friends in the knights that patrol the area frequently. Imagine my heartbreak when I hear my darling spouse has been sneaking around. I didn't want to believe it, so I had to see for myself."

You trembled in his hold, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Jing Yuan's tone was frighteningly even, but that only scared you more. You could feel him smiling against your skin. Forced and cold.

"When I saw you enter that man's house, I thought to myself: No, there must be an explanation for this. There's no way you would do such a thing." The more he talked, the more painful his grasp got. His nails dug into your side, threatening to puncture your skin. "So I waited outside for a while and sure enough, you came out a mess." His gaze became more narrowed, trailing down to the angry hickeys covering your skin.

"You stunk of alcohol and sweat, with all these nasty marks all over you. Even on your collarbone. Absolutely shameful."

You winced. "I'm sorry-"

"Shh." Jing Yuan's lips covered your own in a deep kiss that tasted of wine. "You were lonely without me, right? You wanted attention. I understand. There's no need to apologize. I know I haven't been paying much attention to you, so it's natural for you to look elsewhere."

Despite his understanding words, you felt trapped. Jing Yuan kissed you again and again, tongue swiping against your lips. You didn't have a choice but to open your mouth and let him in, letting his tongue explore every inch of your mouth.

He usually took his sweet time tasting you, but this time, he was impatient and sloppy. You could only grip his arms, whimpering as he poured all of his pent-up anger into the kiss.

When he pulled away, your knees threatened to give out on you. His mouth remained close, the warmth of his breath grazing your lips.

"You'll just have to make it up to me." His hand slithered under your coat and slid it off, his fingers stroking the marks on your shoulders. "These look painful. I never knew you liked pain. But I guess I never knew you were a whore, either."

His words pierced you like daggers, tears spilling from your eyes as you choked back a sob. Jing Yuan's cold eyes softened at the sight, cooing at you.

"Don't cry, sweetheart. It hurts me too when you cheat." His fingers stroked your cheek, catching some of your tears and licking them off his fingers. "I'll take care of you now, okay? Let me be your husband again." He guided you into the bedroom, pushing you onto the bed. "I'm going to fuck all of him out of you, so when I'm done, you'll only remember me. And all the other men you've seen."

Before you could protest, he flipped you onto your stomach and pulled down your pants. You squealed as his hand came down on your ass, leaving a red mark that would surely bruise later.

His palm was ice cold on your hot skin, soothing the sting from the impact.

"I want to forgive you, but I'm not going to lie to myself. You hurt me. I'd never hurt you like that." He paused, feeling between your legs. "And now you're getting aroused by this? Maybe I really have been neglecting you." He stood up to unbuckle his belt. "Let me remind you what sex feels like with someone who loves you."

You glanced back at him over your shoulder, watching him stroke himself. He looked down at you, an unsettling smile on his face.

"You know I love you, right?"

Jing Yuan climbed onto the bed, fingers tracing up your leg before pressing into your entrance. You whimpered as he eased them inside, not used to being stretched so suddenly. But he didn't care.

He thrust his fingers in and out of you, moving his fingers in scissoring motions to spread you more. You couldn't stop squirming beneath him, struggling to adjust to his pace.

"Answer me," he demanded. His fingers curled inside you.

"I do! I-I do!"

He hummed and removed his fingers, staring down at his hand covered in your wetness. He admired the way his wedding ring glistened in the low lighting, but not for long.

His gaze lowered to your reddened, flustered face, making his cock twitch.

"Good. Because I really do love you." He lifted your hips up, guiding the tip of his cock to your hole. He pushed into you and watched as you squeezed your eyes shut, desperate moans falling from your lips. Your walls wrapped around him, and he wanted nothing more than to absolutely wreck you.

So he did.

His hips snapped against yours at a rough pace, hands gripping your waist tight enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. Your moans and the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. But the way you cried his name was the best song to his ears.

If he weren't mad with jealousy and frustration, he would've taken a few seconds to grab his phone to record. But he needed to chase the image of that man out of your mind first.

He reached around you and started rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, grunting against your skin. His touch sent you spiraling into an orgasm, juices gushing all over his cock.

Your tightening walls drove him towards his climax as well, and he came inside of you with a satisfied groan.

Your eyes were blown wide as you felt his cum fill you up. Jing Yuan panted above you, not having the energy to pull out yet. After a few seconds, he did, watching his seed spill out of you. His hips gave a few lazy thrusts into you as if trying to push it in deeper.

"You took me so well, sweetheart." He laid down next to you, bringing your shaking body close.

"Are you still mad at me?" You breathed in his scent.

He chuckled. "I'm no longer mad. In fact, I'm happy. You just confirmed my suspicions that you can't be trusted on your own."

You didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"

He brought a hand to your neck, stroking the skin there. "You have a wild spirit. So it's only natural that I'd need to watch over you closely, right? So you don't wander off again. How can you cheat on me if I'm the only person you see?" He ignored your frightened expression and snuggled you close to him. "This is for the best. Everything I do is for you, Y/n."

[stars4gojo]

End of the world

Dad!Gojo x Fem!reader // Young Megumi and young Tsumiki // 1k words // fluff, angst if you squint. // Gojo and y/n are both teachers for first years

Your and Gojo’s three students are confused as to see why you and Gojo are walking past each other like you aren’t in love with each other as Megumi recalls yours and Gojo’s first serious fight infront of him.

More of my work 🤍

The three first year students at jujutsu high watched as their two teachers walked past each other as if they’ve never known each other. The usual silly jokes and overbearing affection between the two of you was nowhere to be seen and there was no doubt that the student were being wary of you two. 

Your usual kind demeanour was replaced by a cold hard stare that only seemed to show around Gojo. 

The students were not strangers to your bickering or little arguments but this one seemed different, as if someone had sucked all the warmth and love from the room only to replace it with heartbreak and angst. 

Nobara and yuuji quickly made their way to Megumi to ask him to explain why their two teachers, who seemed perfectly fine yesterday, were ignoring each other.

“Hey Megumi, what’s been going on with gojo and y/n?” Nobara whispered covering one side of her face with her hand as to prevent you and Gojo from overhearing.

“I’ve got no idea, I’ve never really seen them act this way either.” Megumi replied with a shrug.

“I’ve never really ever seen them fight this seriously either but they’re too in love with each other to let one fight end it.. right…?” Yuuji added with a slight frown on his face. 

“Well..There was this one time, a really long time ago where they both had a horrible fight.“ Megumi spoke softly putting emphases on the word ‘really.’

He looked over to Nobara and Yuuji who had an identically shocked face.

“I mean, I know not every relationship is rainbows and unicorns but really how bad was it?” Nobara spoke as her shocked impression settled down.

“I was really young back then so I can’t really remember the details but…” Megumi started speaking as his mind went back to that one night. 

Megumi recalls how one night, Gojo came home late, later than usual. He remembers how when you were preparing him and Tsumiki for bed your eyes couldn’t help but wander towards the clock that was hanging by the door. Even as a 10 year old he could tell your mind was full of worries. At the time, he was also aware enough to know why you were so worried. He can clearly recall how Gojo promised he would be home by dinner that day after skipping dinner for 3 nights in a row, you had accepted his promise with a tight lipped smile - the tension in the air was not gone unnoticed by the two children.

You were braiding Tsumiki’s hair while Megumi was drying his with a towel, you couldn’t help but notice how he’s catching onto Gojo’s habits, Tsumiki was humming a new song she learnt during her music lesson which was abruptly cut short as you finished braiding her hair. 

You called them both over so they could give you a goodnight kiss, Tsumiki went first and headed towards her room needing her alone time as a moody tween. 

As Megumi leaned over to give you a shy kiss on the cheek he paused in between and spoke softly, “Don’t worry he’ll be home.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at the kindness of the 10 year old. 

You gave him a toothy smile as you leaned to give him a kiss on the cheek instead, “Ofcourse he will! And I’m gonna beat his butt for being late again! You don’t worry about it, ‘kay?” You replied with a grin.

Which was responded by a loop sided smile and nod by Megumi as he whispered a goodnight slowly making his way to the bedroom. 

However, all your reassurances went to waste as Megumi woke up to a silent house, the usual lovey dovey atmosphere replaced by cold air.

Did Gojo forget to turn on the heating again? He wondered as he peeked through the kitchen to see you and Gojo in different corners of the room. Your usual humming replaced with silence as Gojo stole glances at you that you seemed to ignore.

Megumi looked at Tsumiki as if asking her what happened with his eyes, Tsumiki just shrugged as she played around with her food. 

Megumi took the seat next to her as he leaned into her ear asking, “Are they okay?” 

“They’ve been quiet since I woke up, i don’t know…but they love each other and they love us so it should be okay.”

Your heart broke at the mature conversation your 11 and 10 year old were having. 

“Oh shit! Look at the time.” Megumi heard Gojo shout as he dropped something in the kitchen.

“Well, don’t you care about being on time now.” You mumbled grudgingly only to be met with Gojo’s guilty eyes boring into your back. 

The entire conversation not going unnoticed by your children who seemed to just grow more worried by the minute. 

“Cmon kids pack your bags time to go! If you’re still hungry I’ll get food on the way. Quick quick quick!” Gojo shouted as he made his way to the living room clapping his hands.

As they were about to leave you went to bid them goodbye with a kiss, a routine you all gained after Tsumiki saw you giving Gojo a kiss everytime he left for missions which resulted in her shyly asking you to give her a kiss when she leaves home too. 

You kissed the children first and the kids held their breath when it was Gojo’s usual turn, and as you leaned into kiss him, the worried expressions turned into relief as they made eye contact with each other silently reassuring each other that everything would be okay. 

This is when Megumi realised that although the two of you may fight, and get upset it doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. 

So now at age 16, Megumi watches you two ignore each other over a fight you will definitely be over in less than a few hours, he can’t help but grin.

“What are you laughing at?!??” Nobara questioned as she kicked Megumi on the shin.

“They’ll be fine, let’s just get back to training.” Megumi spoke as he got up making his way to the field.

Nobara and Yuuji watched Megumi from the back, “Will he not tell us about the fight?” Yuuji questioned.

“What do i know” Nobara answered, “Whatever, if he says they’ll be fine then they’ll be fine…let’s go!” She added.

[crabsnpersimmons]

This one goes out to all the slow burn enjoyers, the dense Y/Ns, and the soft robo jesters that suffer in silence!

Inspired by @bamsara's “Solar Lunacy” fic.

If you feel like reading my ramblings and want to experience more heartbreak for fictional jester blorbos, check under the cut where I detail all the planning behind the frames!

so i heard this song for the first time in a while and the opening lyrics immediately made me think of moon, so i was daydreaming some scenes and then i decided to thumbnail some ideas:

and it all went downhill from there as everything became a metaphor and a parallel to each other, which i will now go into detail on!

you thought the animatic itself was sad?

*writing muse laughs maniacally* IT'S ALL A METAPHOR

Frame 1. "turn down the lights" We start with a back view on Moon. The lights are out, the Moon is out, but we do not see his face. The music and the greyscale atmosphere are enough to establish the weight of the moment and the weight on Moon’s mind.

Frame 2. "turn down the bed" We cut to a shot of Moon's body, kneeling on the ground of the daycare, like a padded cell. Moon’s hands are twitching with the effects of the glitch, with purple sparks coming from his hands. We still do not see his face.

Frame 3. "turn down these voices inside my head" Cut to an extreme close up on the dark half of Moon’s face. Now we see his face, but only a portion of it. His left eye is wide open, red and glitching out. The voices in his head can refer to the glitch but also his repressed feelings. Or maybe it could be Sun's voice in their shared headspace.

Frame 4. "lay down with me" Y/N's hand enters the frame from the upper right corner, lowering down to meet Moon where he kneels on the ground. Only a corner of Moon's face appears on the bottom left corner of the frame, his starry nightcap beginning to cover his glitched left eye.

Frame 5. "tell me no lies" An full shot of Moon on the floor and Y/N standing in front of him with their hand stretched towards him. A light spills out from behind Y/N, creating a boundary between them.

Now we see more of Moon. It is only when Y/N enters the frame—enters his world—that Moon’s body is shown in its entirely. When Y/N is here, he is no longer fragmented. He is whole.

Frame 6. "just hold me close" pspspspsps Playfully, Moon extends his own hand, beckoning Y/N to come closer, to join him. His right hand crossed over his body as he uses the playful gesture to hide his true feelings—to put distance between him and Y/N. His hat continues to cover his glitching left eye. He doesn’t want to worry Y/N.

Frame 7. "don't patronize" In response, Y/N’s hand pats Moon on the head, returning his playfulness. Moon looks surprised by the action. Moon, notably, does not lower his hand—perhaps he has forgotten it or perhaps his invitation is still open.

Frames 8-9. "don't patronize me" Moon rotates his faceplate so Y/N’s hand is touching the side of his faceplate, a more intimate gesture than a head pat. However, his hat is in the way. At this angle, his starry nightcap fully covers his glitchy eye and the dark side of his face, hiding his defect and acting as a veil between him and Y/N. A self-imposed boundary. So close, yet thinly separated. It's better this way. It's safer this way.

The lyrics are broken up by Y/N's arm, both to illustrate how the song is sung ("patronize" is drawn out and "me" is briefly added in before the chorus starts) but also to show how Y/N interrupts Moon's resolve, highlighting the irony between the visuals and the lyrics. Demanding not to be patronized, yet Moon happily accepts this play at intimacy. Don't patronize me, I am weak for it.

This is also the only instance where the red light of Moon's eyes glow and tint the surfaces around it. Visually, it makes it look like Moon is blushing (heavily inspired by @restinsodaroni's art). But also, in this moment of honesty, Moon's intrinsic light spills out, colouring the greyscale world. In this brief moment of honesty, Moon touches the world with his own colours, his own light.

(and this is also where i forgot to clean up the shading on Y/N's arm, but it's okay it doesn't need to be perfect it simply needs to be. And Moon will still love Y/N even if they are a continuity error.)

Frame 10. "'cause I can't make you love me if you don't" A parallel to a frame 4, Y/N retrieves their hand away and immediately Moon is reduced to the corner of his faceplate in the frame. Only now his glitched eye is fully covered by his hat.

The lyrics here (and in the next frame) in particular grow lighter to emphasize Moon's diminishing resolve and agency.

From here on out, the lyrics here are broken up, carrying on this theme of fragmentation. Y/N is pulling away, Moon is breaking up, the words are breaking up. Everything is coming apart.

Frame 11. "you can't make your heart feel something it won't" Y/N turns to leave. The lyrics, broken up as before, highlight the irony of the situation. Y/N, a human, can’t feel something they simply don’t feel. Whereas, Moon, the machine, feels something his code never intended him to feel.

Frame 12. "here in the dark in these final hours" Another full shot that parallels frame 5, as Y/N steps towards the light and Moon leans forward into the space Y/N once occupied. Y/N is leaving—that which makes him whole is leaving. And he is only capable of making it to the boundary where the light cuts into the darkness. The "final hours" suggest it might be the end of Y/N’s shift, or perhaps this scene takes place right before the glitch takes over—the final hours that Y/N has with the true Moon. Either way, time is running out—and only Moon knows it.

There is a contrasting display of body language here. Moon is on the floor leaning towards Y/N with his hand still left out. Whereas Y/N is turned away, walking away, and has already slipped their hand away and into their pocket. Y/N is closed off while Moon is limply open. Y/N is actively moving while Moon is on the floor, waiting, hoping, for that which he lacks the agency to reach for himself.

Frame 13. "I will lay down my heart" A close up on Moon’s hand, rising up again, perhaps to beckon Y/N back once more. This is a slight parallel to Y/N's hand reaching out to Moon. While Y/N can freely reach out and touch Moon, Moon cannot. He can't enter the light and more importantly he can't risk potentially harming his relationship with Y/N—be it through the glitch or by his feelings. He can only lay down his heart—put aside his feelings or hope that someone will pick up his pieces and make him whole.

Frame 14. "and I'll feel the power" Still on a close up on Moon’s hand, now clenched in slightly. This initially was going to have the glitch effects. However, I felt it more meaningful for it to be left without. Leave it up for interpretation why Moon pauses his hand. What is the power that he alone feels and stays his hand?

Frame 15. "but you won't, no, you won't" A parallel to frame 1, a view of on Moon's back with his hand stretched out towards the light, and Y/N walking into the light spilling through the open daycare door.

The placement of the lyrics suggest two different “you won’t”—Y/N who won’t realize Moon’s feelings, and Moon who won’t dare speak them into reality.

Another note on the parallel to frame 1, this time we also see Y/N's back, but it is notably different from our view of Moon's back. With Moon, we literally see inside him through the hole for his loop. However, Y/N is shrouded in shadow, just a solid, obscure silhouette against the bright light of a world Moon—and Sun for that matter—are closed off from. We don’t see into Y/N, just as the Daycare Attendant doesn't have any vantage point of Y/N's life beyond their time at the PizzaPlex. (The unfortunate reality of a being a character made for the purpose of being a vessel for the reader.)

Frame 16. "'cause I can't make you love me" We finally cut to face Moon head-on, frozen in place with his hand stretched out, unable to cross the boundary into the light. His eyes have gone dark. Where we began by seeing bits and parts of Moon, and never seeing his full face—now we, the viewer, see the full Moon, open and vulnerable—unbeknownst to Y/N.

Frame 17. "if you don't" But in the dark, behind closed doors, there is no one to perceive him—no one to receive him. The light dwindles as the daycare doors are closed. Moon stays frozen where he kneels. It is no longer the glitch that plagues him, but a far deeper dread.

But a lone streak of light peaks through the gap in the daycare doors. Perhaps that is just enough. A silver lining. A frail hope. A single, ethereal thread out of darkness and into light.

Thanks for reading and watching!

We'll be back to our regularly scheduled fun and games shortly!

[mikareo]

“ ࣭⸰ ★ HE'S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU . . . ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 呪術廻戦 ; gojo satoru x fem reader (1k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ valentine's day is approaching; and with a valentine comes love...or for worse...heartbreak.

contains; gojo satoru x fem reader, angst, mentions of fluff idk, there’s some swearing i think author's note; happy (almost) valentine's,, i’m projecting

1 day, 9 hours, and 47 minutes.

your last conversation wasn't anything out of the ordinary. there was no dry spell. no plateau. no failure to communicate. just you and satoru, plus the typical banter, talking about something as simple as what you were planning on making for dinner; to be more precise, what you were trying to make for dinner. you're a pretty awful cook according to him.

everything seemed to be going so well...really well...almost perfectly well— and with valentine's day right around the corner, you'd instinctively assumed that he'd ask you to be his. instinct is a difficult emotion, though. is it even an emotion? you're not quite sure, but your heart believes it is. your heart— which is practically pounding out of your chest at the current moment, stretching your skin, eager to feel the limitless fresh air and freedom that comes with floating on cloud 9— instinctively wants to believe satoru is your soulmate. you love him don't you? is the answer yes? it should be no.

you've known him for...what? four months? four months of your twenty years of life is seemingly small. that's only one point six-seven percent of your entire lifetime...one point six-seven percent of your life that you wish you could relive forevermore.

...he isn't going to text you back is he?

2 days, 2 hours, and 15 minutes.

each second passing is another flicker of hope that misses the candle wick. instead of lighting the path that leads to your eventual relationship, it lights a fire beneath your feet. your socks feel warm. there's coal beneath them. hot, burning coal withering away the sense of feel in your toes; breathing in the aroma of heartbreak until it becomes a roaring fire that consumes all of you.

why is he doing this? what did you do wrong? you haven't done anything wrong. he's just a man. a man who can't seem to stop playing with your heart.

you can hear his voice in the back of your mind. the part of your mind that connects to your heart. "can you facetime, right now? i'm having a bad day and i just want to see your face." he had to have meant that. "you don't need to apologize for talking over me, i love hearing what you have to say." a guy wouldn't just say that to say that. "don't be too hard on yourself, i know you'll figure everything out becuase you're you. you always know what to do." it couldn't have all been bullshit.

it can't have been bullshit.

because if that's all it was, then you're just a fool in love.

and fools in love are no better than clowns.

3 days, 14 hours, and 22 minutes.

you did what you hate doing. the thing that makes you want to scream into your pillow at the mere thought. the very thing that screams desperation and neediness and clinginess and insecurity all in one. you sent another message.

in the past, you've never had feelings strong enough to elicit such a response. your heart hasn't tied itself to another person's with a red satin bow. the fated string of fate hadn't found you yet. it allowed you to maintain a stable head and remain grounded with no hopes of love on your radar. you hadn't yet learned how to fly; until that day you met satoru and suddenly you had a hundred pilot lessons lined up day-after-day.

it was so easy being with him. everything was so easy.

for the first time ever you had no doubts. you weren't afraid of waking up one morning to find him gone. disappeared. nonexistent. you full-heartedly believed he'd never leave; and you believed he reciprocated those thoughts. now, though...now you may never know what bits and pieces he reciprocated— because your plane crashed. turbulence flew beneath the wings and drove the flight off course. the oxygen masks bellowed down upon the passengers, every seat being filled with your pounding heartbeats, and each and every one of them blew out of the window with no parachute. he didn't even try to cushion the fall.

4 days, 1 hour, and 39 minutes.

if there's one message you never expected to receive, it's surely 'seen 14 hours ago'.

you'd given him space and assumed he'd been busy with a million other things and hadn't had any time to send you a quick message. your last text wasn't even anything out of the ordinary, just a quick "are you okay?", you think that's pretty reasonable. it's reasonable, isn't it?

something could be seriously wrong with him. why else would he leave you on read? he's never done this before. usually, you're the one who's more distant between the two of you. that's how your relationship began, after all. he'd send five texts in comparison to your two; which later evolved into five rivaling five, and now to zero rivaling two. the scales have tipped. how do you rebalance them?

you trust satoru. there must be a perfectly good explanation for this odd irregularity that's occurring in your otherwise perfect relationship. after all, all of your friends love him— they think he's the greatest catch of the 21st century. he's never done anything in the past to warrant such strange behavior. this is simply a difficult week for him...and you'll be there whenever he's ready to vent.

5 days, 22 hours, and 7 minutes.

a broken heart isn't for the weak...but unfortunately, you're not one of the stronger warriors.

he's at another girl's birthday party. he hasn't messaged you back in almost six days...and he's with another girl? celebrating her? he could be holding her close and you wouldn't even know, because god knows he wouldn't tell you. he won't even say good morning anymore. he won't even answer your fucking three word message that you sent out of desperation and concern for his well being. instead, he's at the club with his friends, getting drunk and taking shots, having the time of his life; and you're sitting in your room watching his social media stories...believing that everything that went wrong is all your fault.

but it's not your fault.

it's not your fault you fell for someone like that.

someone like satoru gojo.

[torturedtypewritersdept]

proclivity - part two - the punisher

✯ pairing:

ex!bff!rafe cameron x diabetic!kook!fem!reader

✯ summary:

at one point in time rafe was your best friend. can summer romance erase all the damage he's done?

✯ [4.1k] warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, heartbreak, diabetes lingo, injury, ghosting, fluff and fear, domestic violence (not rafe), mean!ex!jj etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity and i have rewritten + reshared it here :) trying out a new format with this post, hope you like it!

You wake again, tangled in your pink satin sheets, legs slick with sweat from your incessant tossing and turning. The mattress is worn in. Well, for a kook it is. It was once pristine, you could’ve been compared to the princess and the pea now as it made slumber hard and your muscles ache. Though, you weren’t sure if you could blame it on the mattress or the sickness that lingered within your body. Your reality quickly crashes down around you and it looms like a sleep-paralysis demon in the corner of your room; lurking, waiting for the perfect time to pounce and grab you by the throat. You imagine that the pounce isn’t what’s the most terrifying part of it – no it’s the way it grabs your throat, the way you scream but there’s no sound, nothing will come out. That’s dramatic – the analogy, you know it is. But, you can’t stop yourself from wondering why in the fuck Rafe motherfucking Cameron was defending you against your ex-boyfriend a mere ten hours prior. You can’t stop yourself from wondering why after years of radio silence would Rafe have come to your defense. You can’t stop yourself from creating the comparison between the way the ache of his memory, his touch washes over you – chokes you the way demon does. You were an old friend, that had to be what it was – maybe the nostalgia got to him – yeah, that’s it. He doesn’t care, he hasn’t cared for a long time; maybe he never did at all. That’s the only option that makes sense. You quickly throw your blankets off of you as your phone chimes. You find yourself hoping it's Rafe, which is odd, you haven’t hoped that in years. The sting of his absence has truly never ceased the way you had originally hoped that it would. You swallow the disappointment feverishly as you realize it's one of your other favorite Cameron’s – Sarah Elizabeth. She is the only one of the pogues that you are still currently speaking to because she swears up and down that she didn’t know about JJ’s indiscretions. She’s also more kook than pogue and you’re sure maybe she always will be. You trust her – you have to – she’s never lied to you in thirteen years, not that you’re aware of anyway. She’s been begging you to come hangout for weeks and you had to bluntly tell her that if any of the pogues were invited you would not be joining, under any circumstances whatsoever. You look at your messages finally as you force yourself to turn your thoughts off. 

sarah elizabeth: can you please do me a favor? 

You reply, sarcasm oozing from every letter typed out. 

does the great sarah cameron need me? What for?? 

You wait, the three bubbles popping up quickly, bobbing up and down as she thinks of a way to frame the favor you need her for. You smirk as her reply comes through. 

sarah elizabeth: don’t be a dickhead. c’mon, pretty please?? 

You quickly type back. 

depends what it is, princess. 

Your tone is cheeky, yet playful. This – she can work with. That’s what she thinks as she presses send again. 

sarah elizabeth: be my plus one on The Druthers today. No pogues. No rafe. Pretty please. 

You roll your eyes, but quickly agree. You know you can’t keep her waiting forever. 

pick me up in five. You owe me btw. 

—

Your feet strut down the dock loudly, padding after Sarah. She’s evergreen – she always has been, though you don’t know evergreen is the right use of wordage. She’s lively and bright like golden hour at the beach or the cotton candy skies you love to see above the water in the summer. She’s bold and audacious and you love her more than anyone. She turns from her jog, looking back at you as she giggles. She reaches back to you, grabbing your hand and you run with her for a moment. She looks back again, eyes full of love. The moment ends abruptly as she rushes into none other than her brother. You gasp – surprised. Sarah is too, her face quickly falls and she becomes angry as she hits his rock-hard abs with her tinier frame. If you were any more of a loser, you’d probably be drooling at the sight of him, tan-skin glistening in the sun. His abs are rock-hard, you notate on the invisible legal pad in your brain, a pen full of imaginary ink that is definitely leaking all over your hands. Even your imaginary self – the one in your brain – is a clutz around him. You internally groan. His jaw is set with annoyance as his sister rudely runs into him. However, the anger is quickly forgotten as he looks up and your eyes meet. Even from a good distance away, you are lost in the pool of his eyes. They are blue with hues of green and white in places; another reason why he is truly a sight for sore eyes. His demeanor instantly changes, he swallows thickly and Sarah brings the attention back to herself, like she always does. 

“What aren’t you going to say hi?”

She smirks, winking at him. 

“Uh, Yeah – hi, y/n. I’m sorry for the surprised face, I just didn’t know you’d be here.” 

You don’t say anything. Instead, opting for a simple head nod. 

“Everybody on!” 

Ward calls out, waving the three of you in. You walk ahead of Sarah, eager to get away from the both of them. 

“Be nice to her. I’ve been begging her to get out of the house for weeks, okay? Don’t ruin this. Just be nice and let her have a good day.” 

He sheepishly nodded his head. 

“Y-Yeah, okay. I promise not to be an asshole.” 

She smiles up at him in return. She knows he’s worked hard over the last eight months and he is a better man than before. So leans up and kisses him on the cheek. 

“I know, buddy.” 

—

Sarah asking you out for a day on The Druthers wasn’t completely unorthodox. You’d spent many summers where the only thing the two of you cared about was soaking in sun and letting the ocean’s salty kiss envelope you. There wasn’t anything wrong with that – especially if it was just going to be the two of you (no pogues). It’s currently the middle of June and you had a day off, so you thought, ‘Why not?’ There’s truly nothing wrong with enjoying yourself, even though you were surprised by the presence of Rafe and then John B showing up just as Ward was ready to set sail. The latter really fucking annoyed you, because well – Sarah had said no pogues and you were still feeling rather betrayed by all of them – John B included. You had agreed reluctantly to begin with and now – you were living in a nightmare; sandwiched between Rafe and Wheezie in 100 degree weather. If you could turn back time, if you could be someone else, someone with no history with him, with no longing for him to return to you like a phoenix, this would be your dream; his beefy arms pressed against yours.You weren’t sure why Sarah had even invited you now, because she was attached to John B’s hip and you could only watch in horror as they licked each other’s faces off right in front of everyone. Long forgotten was the ghost of who you’d met when you were seven, who she used to be; a princess in pigtails, and to think you considered her more kook than pogue just a few hours earlier. Rafe watched as you grimaced, looking on at them. He laughed, remembering your distaste for public affection, not just for Sarah and John B’s. You locked eyes with him and a grin made its way across your lips. It felt like you could look into his blue orbs forever. Forever was a strong word, since forever ended the second he looked away. This was all you got from him now, stolen glances and grins with no words to follow. It always left you wanting more. You immediately hated yourself for falling for his shit. You knew he didn’t mean it. It was so easy – falling back into it. 

You could feel the sweat pouring down your back right as Ward anchored the boat and decided it was time for a swim, so you got up, pulling your t-shirt off to reveal the gorgeous white one piece you had opted to wear so Rafe wouldn’t notice the scars on your stomach from your pump. You had taken the pump off and set a timer for one hour to remind yourself to put it back on after you were done swimming. Rafe still didn’t know about your illness and you wanted to keep it that way. He admired your body and the slender bathing suit that covered it, thinking about how in the world someone could be that beautiful. He looked on in awe as he watched you run and dive into the water and chuckled when the after effects of your splash came onto the boat to drench Sarah and John B. 

“Seriously?!” 

Sarah called out, shaking the water off of her like a wet dog. 

“Oops!”

You responded, sending Rafe into a fit of laughter. You swam for about 30 minutes before Rose and Ward called everybody for lunch below the cabin. 

“Y/N, come in. It’s time to eat.” 

Rafe called to you. You swam back to the boat, climbing up the ladder and Rafe dropped his hand down for you to grab, which you did, and he pulled you up. 

“You, you-uh look really pretty today.” 

He whispered. You couldn’t remember the last time you held his hand or felt the rough texture of the pads of his fingers wrapped around yours. It felt like ages. You almost fell for it again, but you quickly pulled your hand from his grasp; it felt like you had been scalded by a hot burner. 

“Don’t do that.” 

You bit out. 

“Do what?” 

He questioned puzzledly. 

“You know exactly what the fuck you’re doing!” 

You growled. 

“Just – just don’t, okay?” 

You replied, voice falling flat as the words cut through your core like a knife. You wanted to say yes, to say thank you, to say you too, but you knew how it ended. 

“Y/N, come join us!”

Ward spoke cheerily. 

“Just a sec, gonna sneak away to the bathroom.” 

You smiled in his direction and Rafe watched you intently, wondering how in the hell he was supposed to begin to fix anything when you so clearly wanted him dead. 

–

The next time you saw Rafe Cameron was at the boneyard, which you still loathed going to out of fear of running into JJ or any of the other Pogues. Things hadn’t ended well between the six of you, being that everyone knew about JJ and Kiara’s little Pogue affair and Sarah was the only one who had the decency to tell you the truth. You had cut ties with all of them. But, Sarah was still your friend and she begged you, for the second time, on this particular Friday to come out and enjoy yourself. So, you agreed. After an early morning shift at the island club, you spent time agonizing over what to wear in Sarah’s bedroom. Luckily, Rafe wasn’t home, and you decided on a pair of high waisted shorts and a crop top that went right above the waistline of your jean shorts. You adorned your neck with a rainbow colored beaded choker that Rafe had given you in the sixth grade, it was still your favorite necklace even though you knew you weren't his favorite girl anymore. 

You had mostly stayed away from the Boneyard since Rafe had relinquished his best friend duties, partly because of him, but mostly because the week after you and Rafe called it quits you got really really sick, had a seizure, and found out you had type one diabetes. You were angry with Rafe after that because you really, really needed your best friend. Had it not been for Topper and Sarah, you would’ve had to walk through it completely alone and you didn’t wish that on your worst enemy. 

As you and Sarah made your way on to the beach, she immediately locked eyes with John B and quickly disappeared. Fuck John B and his honey-colored eyes and the way they had a hold on her. You knew this was going to happen and you don’t know why you had convinced yourself any differently. You sighed heavily and made your way over to the Keg which was being run by Topper. 

“Hey, Top.”

You smiled kindly at him. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” 

He questioned, confusedly. He knew this hadn’t been your scene for a long time now. Though, that didn’t mean that he was unhappy to see you. 

“Sarah dragged me out of the house. Where are the other two stooges?” 

You questioned with a laugh.

“Around here somewhere, I think Rafe is upstairs with a girl or something.” 

He spoke without thinking and sighed when he watched your face fall. 

“Shit, Y/N. I’m sorry. I’m sure you don’t want to hear that shit.” 

He regretted his words immediately, knowing the hold Rafe had over you.

“It’s okay, Top. You don’t have to protect me from who he is.” 

He nodded slowly. 

“Just make sure I don’t leave him another embarrassing voicemail at the end of the night, okay?” 

You meant it as a joke, really. But, Topper did not think it was funny at all. 

“Wait, you’re not drinking are you?” 

His brow furrowed in confusion, knowing that any alcohol you ingested would drop your sugar levels significantly. 

“Don’t worry, dad. I’m only going to have one or two.” 

You replied, sarcasm on your tongue. 

“Please, no more than that. You remember last time?”

He asked bluntly. 

“Yeah, Top. I remember.” 

How could you forget?

You sighed for what felt like the fiftieth time and watched as Topper poured the beer into the red solo cup in his hand. The ‘last time’ Top was referring to was the night you had left Rafe the embarrassingly honest voicemail about how much you missed him. A voicemail he never returned. You had a seizure the following day, blowing off steam at the gold course with Topper and of course, Topper was there to pick up the pieces, like he always was. But, you wished it was Rafe. 

“Here, stay close by. Please.” 

He pleaded, handing you the cup of beer.

“I’ll keep you company until he shows back up.” 

You joked, sending him a wink and nudging his elbow with yours. After a few minutes of catching Top up on the highs and lows of your current life events, you caught Rafe out of the corner of your eye, making his way down to where you and Topper were with Kelce right behind him. 

“Well, well, well, Y/N, to what do we owe the pleasure?” 

Kelce spoke in a jokingly sexy voice. He had always flirted with you and it had always pissed Rafe off, though you never understood why. Kelce was harmless and revolting; way too much of a ladies man for your pleasure. 

“Yeah, what are you doing here?”

His tone came out gruff and mean, and your eyes went to your feet again, as you recognized the voice of your ex-boyfriend. You slowly turned your head to see Kiara with her arm wrapped around JJ’s bicep, a snarl ever present on her face. Rafe watched your eyes intently, the sadness and anger that lingered in them sent him into protective mode once again. 

“I-I don’t know.” 

You stammered. 

“What are you gonna drink yourself to death over him?” 

Kiara interjected, pointing to your drink, her voice sinister, as she mocked you and your health condition. 

Rafe looked on in confusion, wondering what it was that she was referring to - the break up or something more? It felt like he was missing a key piece of information. The Y/N that he knew didn’t have a problem downing any drinks. Topper was quick to jump in and diffuse the situation before your life’s biggest secret was revealed in front of the one person you didn’t want to know. 

“Okay, that’s enough.” 

Topper warned, a growl on his lips.

“No, it’s not. She has diabetes, I mean Jesus Christ, you guys gonna let her get killed just because she’s sad?” 

JJ asked incredulously. If you were a bystander, you might think he gave a shit about you, but you know he doesn’t. He’s telling Rafe that you’re sick. He’s doing it to be a cunt, because he knows you’ve kept it from him since finding out. 

“You’re a cunt, JJ.” 

You retorted, aggresively. 

“Woah – big words for a big ol’ girl, huh?” 

He piped up, hinting toward your weight which was one of your biggest insecurities since being diagnosed. 

“What the fuck did you just say?” 

Rafe spoke up, growling in JJ’s direction before grabbing the collar of his shirt pushing him into the sand. 

“What’s with defending her honor, Rafe? I mean twice in a week, you wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea, now would you?” 

JJ’s words are slimy – you wonder how you ever loved him as he resembles lord voldemort to you now. 

“And what idea would that be, Maybank?” 

He spits out in feverish anger. 

“I don’t know – that you give a shit about her?” 

He questions sarcastically. 

“That’s not the wrong idea – it’s the truth.” 

Suddenly, you can’t take it anymore. You don’t want to hear it from either one of these assholes. So you run away – as fast as you can. 

When Rafe had made it back to the party, after beating JJ into oblivion – his favorite activity this week, his eyes frantically searching for your slender form, Topper informed him you went off by yourself toward the water. He made his way down to where he thought you’d be and there you were, sitting on a piece of driftwood, your knees tucked into your body and your arms wrapped around them. It was almost as if you were giving yourself a hug. Rafe smiled at the sight. 

“Y/N.”

He called out.

“Oh, what, Rafe?”

You replied, questioning in your voice, wondering what the hell he was doing even talking to you. 

“Why’d you leave the party?”

He asked, innocently, even though he already knew the answer because he knew you like the back of his hand. 

“I’m just embarrassed – why do you care so much all the sudden, huh?” 

You chuckled angrily, trying to keep it as civil as possible so Rafe wouldn’t make fun of you for it later with a group of guys on the golf course. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed that Maybank is a dick. He didn’t deserve you anyway.”

“Yeah and what – you think you do? Cause from where I’m sitting, that’s not the case.” 

You growled. He was taken aback at first, but slowly began to nod his head with tears in his eyes. Although you weren’t friends anymore, you constantly analyzed his features, knowing what each grimace or grin meant. You hadn’t meant to make him sad, that wasn’t the point. 

“Do you not want me to talk to you?”

His voice grew quiet and feeble. 

“Rafe, I’ve wanted you to say anything to me for the last two years that wasn’t an insult or cutting me down. I mean we were best friends for god sakes and y-you just left me behind.” 

The tears clouded your vision, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting them fall. Unbeknownst to you, Rafe was crying, hot tears leaked out of his eyes and fell onto his cheeks and before you could look up at him, he pulled you in. You fought the hug at first, but it just felt so good and warm and right. Eventually, you melted into his touch, resting your head on his chest. You hadn’t had one of these hugs in so long, it almost felt like it wasn’t real. These hugs, his hugs, could cure disease, they could put all your broken parts back together. Fuck JJ Maybank, this is Rafe Goddamn Cameron and you are so Goddamn thankful. 

“What’s that?”

Rafe motioned to the bulge sticking out from under your shirt as he pulled away from the hug the two of you shared. You looked up at his piercing blue eyes and decided enough was enough and this moment with him shouldn’t be wasted. It’s time to tell him the truth.

“It’s an insulin pump.” 

You mutter.

“Why do you need an insulin pump? You have diabetes, he wasn’t lying?”

Rafe looked confused, you had been friends for so long and he had never noticed it before. 

“I-I have diabetes, type 1. He wasn’t lying.” 

You reply.

“What? Since when?” 

He looked bewildered, like he didn’t know what to think or say.

“Since freshman year.” 

Your voice is small as you tell him your reality of the last two years. 

“Is that why you stopped showing up to parties?”

He asks, earnestly. You can't remember the last time you saw him look like that. 

“Uh, yeah, I mean you stopped talking to me and I didn’t have a reason to come around anymore. Plus, I can’t have a lot of alcohol. It just makes my sugar low, which makes me sick.” 

You replied, looking down at your feet, embarassed, fully expecting him to make a joke about it or say something awful. That was his prerogative. But he didn’t. He was concerned, scared, confused, even, as he asked you about your disability. 

“How did you find out?” 

He asks. 

“The week after you stopped talking to me I got really really sick and I had a seizure. Almost didn’t make it and that’s when they found it. Topper was the only person who knew.” 

You admitted. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t Topper tell me?!” 

He’s borderline hysteric as he realizes what he’s done, how he’d left you alone when you needed him the most. 

“I begged him not to. I knew if you found out you’d wanna talk and I wanted you to do that under your own pretenses not out of obligation.” 

Your words gut him and he knows he deserves far worse than this feels. 

“Can you let me back in? I mean – not now, or right away, but can you let me show i’ve changed, can you allow me to do that? Like old times.”

He questions, scared as he awaits your reply. 

“It’ll never be like old times again.” 

You reply bluntly. His Adam's apple bobs up and down and he knows you’re right, that you’re not saying this to hurt him – not you. You wouldn’t. You’re saying it because it’s the truth. 

“Understood.” 

He finally whispers. He rubs his palms against his knees, they are sweaty. It’s a sign – a tell before he goes into a full blown anxiety attack and you have to steer this conversation in another direction before he’s hyperventilating beside you – like old times. 

“Look, I’ll give this a shot – this friends bullshit, trial basis kind of vibes. If you prove me wrong and don’t end up being a piece of shit after all, we can extend our contract.” 

You reply with a half-witted smirk. 

“You mean that?” 

He asks hopefully. You almost yell at him again, but you don’t want to be cruel. 

“Sure. We can try. Meet me at our old spot tomorrow and we can try to figure this shit out. But, I’m gonna need some answers from you, Rafe. I mean it.” 

You reply sternly. He rises, helping you up to your feet again. 

“Can I hug you? O-Or walk you home, maybe? O-Or drive you, I have my truck – it’s here.” 

He struggles as he does his best to offer you support, that’s what friends are supposed to do. At Least that’s what he used to do for you. 

“Don’t push it okay? We’ll talk tomorrow.” 

You replied and for the first time in any length of time that he can remember, he’s left wanting more and not just more, he’s a guy that has plenty, plenty of everything. But, he’s lacking in you and the absence stings just as bad as the day he left. He hopes that you'll accept his reasoning, his need to become better for you. He hopes you won’t leave him in return. 

taglist:

@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey @yagirlwrites @obxbabygirl @rafeecameronsbitch

[hoseoksluna]

VAPOR, pt II. | jjk ft. myg

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc 

genre: smut, a great dose of angst

word count: 11.9k

summary: hard times ask for extra care and like the healer he is, jungkook doesn't fail to give you his absolute best.

pinterest board: vapor | playlist: vapor

warnings: heartbreak, lots of tears, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), praise kink, sucking fingers, female masturbation, fingering, oc is extremely wet and jk is rly rly hard for her <3, squirting, multiple orgasms, jk tells her off kinda and it's hot, pet names, raw and rough sex, the abandonment issues are heavy in one part, mention of a sex toy

note: hi, my loves. this was absolutely painful to write, but i know i made a good decision. unfortunately for those who are waiting for the next series—i'm sorry, but this will have another part. it's already so long and if i kept going, it'd have probably like 20k plus words and i don't want to take up your time. i think i can manage to post the last part THIS week, so look forward to this. one part of the happy ending done. <3 i love you, guys, i hope you like this. don't hesitate to let me know; i worked hard and i want validation skfjslkfjsklfs. enjoy, my loves. <3

A dead man for the fifth time, Jungkook finds the unfolding of the events quite ridiculous now. And he’s not surprised, how could he really be at this point, that there’s radio silence within the chambers of his heart. 

The food court is muted, the lights are ever still bright, but the corners of his eyes gain peculiar shadows that cling to the side of your face as you swirl your spoon in your hot soup. His phone is ringing and its obnoxious sound is but a vibration in his hand and the only thing that’s delaying him from sliding his thumb across his device is some sort of consent in your solemn, yet saddened features. He can see translucent threads lining your rounded lips that have sown your mouth shut, preventing you from speaking out your tender heart and it’s predominantly this thing, among the obvious other ones, that drives him to make a scene in front of all of these people crowded around him. 

If he has to, he will rip those wisps. Make it as painless as possible because whether he likes it or not, he needs you right now. Needs your word of advice, needs your consent in order to do what the entirety of his organs yearns to do. And if you say no, he’ll willingly turn his phone off and refuse to speak to his once-closest friend. 

Just for the sake of your mental health. Just to outrun fate and grasp her wrist to stop her from furthermore scarring your heart. 

You have enough of them and he has only one pair of lips to heal them. 

Lifting the spoon to your mouth, you keep your gaze on its silver coat and it unnerves him—the fact you won’t look at him, the fact that you so evidently don’t want to be in this situation. Your own boyfriend is chasing you around town, even though he transmitted waves of nothingness your way when he had you under his roof. He doesn’t fucking understand it. Doesn’t understand how he’s capable of doing such a thing and fury rises in his gut, soars high to his throat, which constricts around it so tightly that it forbids him from inhaling any oxygen into his lungs. And he fears that if he speaks, it’ll soak you. Make you even smaller than you are and he’ll hate himself for the rest of his life for it. 

However… 

He needs to talk to you. Time is pressing down on his shoulders once again and here and now, he’s too burdened, too fragile to bear it. His stoicism has long been fractured, its shards cracking cacophonously under the soles of his sneakers and… the singular tear rooting on his pale cheek hasn’t even dried up. 

“Tell me what to do, sweetheart,” Jungkook says, his voice a soft, deep murmur; a plea. His surroundings gain volume, little by little, the lack of air in his lungs causing his mind to spin. His body grows cold and, unwittingly, he bounces his leg underneath the table. “If you don’t want me to pick up this call, I won’t. It’s your decision.” 

He knows that whatever it is that will come out of your mouth and change the trajectory of his fury, he’ll protect you nonetheless. No matter what, no matter what it takes. He’ll unleash what’s been swarming in him for a long time in private sometime later if you ask for it—he’ll gladly tell his organs no and they’ll have to listen. That’s certainly not an issue. 

What will be an issue is if you remain quiet. He doesn’t know what will happen to him under that circumstance. He has very little trust in something that’s out of his grasp and he has  strong disliking for the looseness of it all. Doesn’t feel right. 

A quick, soft slurp of your soup. A lift of your weary eyes. A kick in his heart. “I don’t want to make any decision. If you want to pick up the call, you should. I don’t mind. If you don’t, that’s fine, too.” 

He must be dead because he’s staring at his own reincarnation. 

You’ve walked so far on your pathway of suffering that you reached the point that you don’t care anymore. Don’t care that there’s a risk Yoongi will see you or hear you. Don’t care about what’s going to happen when he does and about the events after. It’s as admirable as it is disturbing and a faint pulse begins to sound in his chest. Thrill nips at his skin; a sense of responsibility uncoiling within, linking to the surety of his instinct to protect you. To stand up for you. To make things right in a way, way different manner than he’s ever tried before and it’s those inclinations that drive his thumb to swipe across the screen. 

Though he doesn’t look at Yoongi. No, he looks at you, studying your features. It’s not that he doesn’t trust your words, he does and vehemently so, but this is a difficult situation that you’re both in and it would be only understandable if the gravity of it washed over you all of a sudden and you weren’t comfortable with this anymore. He wouldn’t hesitate to end the call right away. Fuck what Yoongi thinks. 

But nothing changes about your weariness. It’s a still pool of water, unmoving and utterly impenetrable, like the pond behind his cabin during cold, winter times. When this is over, he promises to get warm and dip his fingers in, permeate your skin with rosiness and coziness. Stall the change of seasons unfurling in you. 

And Jungkook pleats that promise into the palm of your hand as he takes it, his thumb against your head line. Watches you stuff your mouth full with noodles. His own stomach churns, the fury half parting, making a way for his hunger to suffuse his senses. He’s so happy you’re eating that all he can think about is how he’s going to make your life better with this one singular video call. 

He leaves you to it and focuses his gaze down on Yoongi. His once-close friend is driving in his car and despite the shit view he has of him, due to his service and the way Yoongi’s phone is angled, he can still see the way he’s swathed by murkiness. The purple marks under his eyes are a stark contrast to the pallidness of his skin and his hair is a mess, tufts of black strands sticking in different directions as if he had been on the verge of ripping his hair out. He has one hand on the steering wheel, while the other runs over his upper lip. Over and over, back and forth, waiting, patiently, for Jungkook’s attention. 

He starts speaking once he knows he has it. 

“Sorry to bother you, I didn’t know who else to call.” He sighs and explains that he’s calling because of you, the mention of your name causing his voice to crack. “I drove up to her apartment, but she’s not there. She told me she was going to her place when she… when she… left.” 

So he heard you loud and clear, and yet he didn’t have the decency to respond to you, make you know that you were heard. Jungkook looks at you and this time you look back at him, too. A tight, painful exchange of glances. He squeezes your hand, even as Yoongi continues. 

“She’s not picking up the phone. I’m worried about her—”

Jungkook is swift with his words. “You should’ve thought of that before you let her leave,” he snaps, his whole body tense, hanging yet again by the thread. He keeps his hold over your hand gentle, despite it all—despite the fact that his form yearns to explode. “You’re too reckless. Leave her alone.” 

Your eyes widen while Yoongi’s narrow, but he doesn’t regret what he said. He knows there’s utmost truth in them, something that should scramble his brain until he comprehends it. Yoongi’s mouth purses in a tight line and his fist clenches before he places it on the steering wheel with a thud. 

“Don’t talk to me like this. I don’t need this,” Yoongi mutters, pulling out his hyung card and while it angers Jungkook even more, he also thinks that’s the biggest load of bullshit that has ever come out of his mouth. “I need to know where she is.” 

He gazes intently at you as he says, “It’s none of your business.” 

And those big eyes of yours round in a good emotion that he can’t really recognize and slowly, you swallow down your noodles. Speechless, he deduces. A tendril of adrenaline courses in him, strengthening his responsibility and protectiveness over you, kissing it ever so sweetly when you squeeze his hand. 

A validation. 

Jungkook could stay like this. He wouldn’t mind at all—it feels too nice. Feels like you’re his. And perhaps at this very moment you are. 

The feeling is so overwhelming that he doesn’t give two shits about the fact Yoongi is detonating on the other side of the screen. He keeps his eyes on you. 

“What the fuck do you mean it’s none of my business? Is she with you?” 

It’s at this moment that a proud smile curls Jungkook’s lips. And it’s joy that absorbs his organs, his heart beating loudly and clearly. Even the people around him seem happier in his peripheral vision. He thinks this night tops in the best days he’s ever had. 

Tension has grabbed a hold of you, too. But he will make it better. He’s got you. 

He continues with the truth and he’s not afraid of it. Not at all. 

“Yes, she’s safe with me.” 

Those words, most peculiarly, soothe Yoongi’s rage. Silence fills his car, one that forces Jungkook to flick his eyes to his phone because he truly can’t believe what’s happening. Yoongi runs his hand down his face and nods once, the murkiness loosening a fair bit before it pulps him. It’s now that he becomes small. A tiny boy, at the hands of his own repercussions. Displeased, but relieved. A strange, strange sight.

“Good,” Yoongi says and Jungkook’s stomach drops. “She should be with you. You’re better than me in ways I could never be. She doesn’t need me anymore.” 

Your mouth parts and a vexation of your own clutches you. Enough for you to drop your spoon and lift your hand, palm up. The adrenaline in Jungkook’s system thickens. “Give me the phone.” 

Yoongi's head turns to the screen at the sound of your irritated voice and Jungkook’s smile widens, handing you the device. He knows what you’re about to say will put an end to this difficult situation and he’s eager to hear it, eager for it to happen. 

“Careful, don’t make him crash his car,” Jungkook whispers, ever so smug, just for your ears, but on the other hand, he doesn’t care if it finds a way to your boyfriend’s as well. You gaze at him most solemnly, fleetingly, and he can’t read shit in your expression. He’s not troubled by it, however; he wants you to let loose in whatever form of your choosing, of your liking. You deserve it, to be boundless like that. It’s been a long time coming.

His phone in your hand is too large and he finds it so cute that it helps him relax. Without withdrawing his hand, he hunches over his soup, getting his utensils ready. 

And his first taste of his meal is as good as the first words you hurl at Yoongi. 

“Are you joking right now? Is that all you have to say after everything? You’re actually unbelievable,” you spit, shooting daggers at the screen, your brows furrowed, a lethal glare directed at him. Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but he hears him sigh. “I’d like you to know that it’s my decision that I’m with him. Not yours. You’re not in control of it and you never will be again. I’m with him because I want to be with him, not because you let me be with him or because you think it’s good.” 

Your voice rises in volume ever so slightly, respectful of your surroundings, but untethering your heart free nonetheless. A tortured pain coats it, despite the fact you’re holding yourself strong and it drives Jungkook to let go of his spoon, unable to eat when he feels your agony in all its raw immensity. You struck his awe and all he can do is watch you make order of your life. For your sake and also, most remarkably, for his. A beautiful, beautiful sight.

Love unable to be real turning away, slowly, from the dead end. 

“So, we’re over?” Yoongi asks, small—small voice. Jungkook has never heard it before and butterflies zap his stomach with the strongest electricity they could come across. 

Your face doesn’t change and you don’t hesitate to unleash your next words. “I think you should go see other people and heal from this mess. You’ve grown too attached to your own fucked up impressions and you need a reality check.” 

Such coldness, such brutality. Jungkook can’t breathe—finds it hard to believe this is happening right now, that angels are by his side, keeping his bloodstream flowing. He feels as though he’s dreaming again due to the speck of vagueness in your answer. Yes, you’ve told him to go see other people, but he’s also aware that Yoongi needs the raw truth on a silver platter. If there’s anything he hates with all his being, it’s the abyss of obscurities. It’s the space in his brain for him to make up for the emptiness of your words. 

Jungkook intertwines his fingers with yours, his thumb fondling the crook between your thumb and your forefinger, giving you the little strength he possesses in him—the last of it, all he has. 

Are you breaking up with him or are you taking a break? 

Jungkook longs to know, perhaps he needs it, too, even though both options are more than merciful for such a wretched dreamer like him. A dreamer that has stumbled upon gold in a poor, poor world. 

“Honey, please.” Yoongi breaks into sobs and it’s now, now as Jungkook hears the sound of a raw emotion from such a detached person that he softens, his fury snuffed out in a blink of an eye, and he can’t feel his arms, nor his legs. He realizes, most strangely, that it’s his friend, one he spent the last ten years of his life with. The aftertaste of copper pools in his mouth again and his own eyes wet. Yours, too, your chin quivering the more you take in his devastated state. “I can’t do this without you. I–I don’t know how to.” 

Despite your tenderness, your words remain firm. “I think you’ve managed quite well these past few days. You’ve pushed me away, needed space. So go have it. I won’t suffer through it, though. I’ll do what I want, you should, too. You need to heal in the only way you know how. Alone.” 

Yoongi sniffles, taking long breaths to seemingly calm his shuddering lungs. And pity enfolds his heart, pity for his friend that he’s become such a wreck and that he’s a witness to it, more than the cause behind it. He puts the latter to the side, now is not the right time for it. 

He knows what will happen to him once he breaks the dam of self-blame. It’s not what you need right now and he will make sure to keep that dam of your own safe and stable. It’s his duty. 

“Will you wait for me?” Yoongi asks and Jungkook feels that question curl around his gut. With a light layer of sadness, he returns to his food, his stomach grumbling. 

You sigh, swiping your fingers under the skin beneath your lower lashes, perhaps so Yoongi doesn’t see your weakness. Jungkook watches you as he slurps on his noodles, nervous—terribly, terribly nervous. 

“I don’t know if I’m able to trust you like that again,” you conclude, taking a big breath and Jungkook chokes on his food, coughing so hard that you untangle your hand from his and slap his back. “Gotta go. I’ll call you later.” You end the phone call and gently lay down his phone, rubbing his back soothingly as Jungkook splutters. “Are you okay? What happened?”

What happened? You gave him life. Made a pathway for his dreams to come true. Gave him a leeway to walk upon this earth with no weight on his shoulders. Turned something inaccessible accessible. 

Love unreal becomes real, running headlong in the opposite direction of the dead end. 

The last of his aching coughs emit out of his throat and he swallows, lungs heaving with freedom and easy, easy breaths. The air is different, the oxygen much sweeter. You put his tall glass of water into his hand, encouraging him to drink, never letting go of him as Jungkook takes a big sip, the cold liquid washing away all of those dark ashes left from the fire of his fury. His vision blurs once he looks at you in this new, shifted reality and there’s a smile to his face, calmness surging through his body, exhilaration most needed twining around it. 

“You tell me,” Jungkook says, almost out of breath—out of his mind. “What just happened?” 

You go back to your soup, squeeze your fried egg open with your chopsticks. “I’m not letting him hurt me again. I don’t have to be strong and take it, do I?” With the yolk spilling in, you push the entirety of the egg white into your mouth, huffing in delight, rolling your eyes back and chewing, cheeks puffed up like a little squirrel. His own utensils go slack in his hand, watching you enjoy your food, his heart enlarging. But then you furrow your brows and stop chewing. “Fuck, it’s cold, but it’s so good.” You sigh and resume chewing, your eyes flicking across the table, your body bouncing excitedly in your seat. You act as though you didn’t just break your own boyfriend’s heart—as if you led a normal conversation with him, in which he was just checking up with you. Jungkook’s awe is so struck that he can’t speak. Can’t eat. Can’t do anything but watch you with all that love abounding in his being for you. And then you flick your eyes to his and the wrinkle between your brows deepens. “Why aren’t you eating? Is it too cold?” 

He calls your name, firmly. Leans back in his seat with a big sigh. Rubs his eyes with his fingers. “What just happened?” 

There’s simply no way this is real. 

You devour your noodles, swallowing spoonfuls of soup. “I ended things with him, Jungkook, and I’m not coming back to him.” 

His mouth dries, heart picks up speed. How are you saying this with such ease? Isn’t your heart split in two? Your devotion clung to his guy with every breath you took and back at his cabin, you wouldn’t let him play with you unless Yoongi was present. How come it seems like you’re anything but heartbroken right now? 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks in all honesty, confounded by your behavior. 

You push away your bowl, cradling your full belly. “Yes, I’m okay.” 

He doesn’t really believe you. Losing your appetite was proof enough. “Positive?” 

You look over to the side and your chin begins to quiver. There it is. Your hand flies to your face and you hide the rupture of your pretense behind it. The corners of your face, the only parts he gets to see, flush in red and Jungkook grabs your things with a heavy, sinking heart. Walks over to you and gives you his hand. 

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.” 

The weeping clouds have migrated not just to your eyes but to his, too. The night is deep and Jungkook feels it, ardently, coming to rest beneath his skin, floating on its back upon the stream of his tears that he’s stifling. He’s holding your hand and your purse as he’s leading you to his place. You didn’t want to see the face of your apartment. As a matter of fact, you couldn’t stand anything that reminded you of Yoongi and you begged him to take you somewhere you’ve never been before. Jungkook only nodded, brushing away the tears that managed to escape. Thought he’d bring you to any place you’d ever ask, just as long as you stuck with him. 

He’s gained what he wanted for a long time, but at what cost? The two people he loves the most are broken. One, his dearest, he’s grasping tightly so she wouldn’t fly away. The other is becoming but a memory, ten years going down the drain—never to be seen again, never to be continued. 

He has you, but he lost Yoongi. And the realization hangs, heftily, over his clavicles, swinging back and forth, kicking into his chest. 

He can’t stand the sight of him either, however. How strange. 

Once inside the warmth of his apartment, he can’t help but rid you of the hideous flannel of his that you’re wearing, bunching it up in his fists and throwing it away to the corner of his bench on the side of his wall without you knowing. With his hand on the small of your back, he guides you to his living room and he lets you skim your sight all around it, slipping his fingers under the hem of your tiny top, just touching you there. White walls, brown leather couch, a TV that takes up the most of the space alongside the kitchen with a plain dining area consisting of an old wooden, rectangular table with four chairs. A huge singular space of nothingness that has never felt home-like, not until you’ve stepped inside. 

Now, all of a sudden, it has colors. Vibrant, yet soft-toned with each inhale of his breath. You bring your oxymorons everywhere you go and they stay where you reside, even if you move someplace else. The evidence of it is in his very body. While he feels at his most fragile, he also senses himself to be strong. Strong enough to take care of you right at this moment, be there for you and give you anything you’d ever want. And while his eyes are still wet, cheeks bedewed by his softness, he also wants to break this place—self-blame creeping in, threatening to emerge from the hidden spots somewhere within the battlefield of his chest. 

This is his fault. Had he never said yes, you wouldn’t be in pain and neither would his friend be. But in that scenario, he wouldn’t know you existed. Wouldn’t have you. Would lead a forlorn life, with his paints and his alcohol. 

You would be happy with Yoongi. Radiant, glowy. With your glitters, your little dresses. Your nighttime robes and your little lingerie. 

Would you? Has he ruined your happiness? Has he ruined you? 

Jungkook turns you around to him. He needs to ask you; he needs to have the certainty, otherwise he won’t sleep tonight. Won’t even close his eyes—the thoughts would eat away his drowsiness. Leave only wakefulness in their wake. Jungkook presses his lips against your forehead, lingering there, formulating his words, carefully. His hands clutch your shoulders. Your frail, slender shoulders. 

Yoongi devastated your appetite enough that you lost all your soft fleshiness. He took it away and he doesn’t even perceive it. It was clear to him by the way you pushed your plate away, when your emotions rushed through; you didn’t have to say a word. And although he grieves the personal loss, still this is something he’ll never forgive him for. 

“Would you have been happy if you never knew me?” he asks, subduedly, torment clawing at his vocal cords. “Would you have been happy with him?” 

A teardrop spills down your cheekbone, plopping onto the material of your top, soaking it. You furrow your brows, seem angry at his choice of words and he regrets them, enough that his mouth rounds in a tender emotion that he’s too weak to stifle back. And then you bunch up his T-shirt, just like you did earlier in the dressing room, and there’s a tendril of relief that maybe he didn’t fuck up so majestically. He wants to weep; holding them back pains him too much and that ease, that repose is all he wants. It’s not that he’s shy or unwilling to let out his feelings—it’s just that he’s putting yours above his, deeming them more important. He wants to be strong for you, someone you can lean on—and how can he do that for you when he’s crumbling on the inside? 

“How can you say that to me?” you ask in disbelief and Jungkook wants to rewind back the time. Wants to keep quiet and just hold you through this fateful night. He winces, looking away, his own chin quivering this time and he can’t—he can’t hold back. He possesses no strength. A tear trickles down his cheek, one full of agony, hot against his skin and he whimpers, he whimpers when you cradle his face in your hands, step on your tippy toes and press your lips against his. Your mouth is so warm and he’s shivering with cold; silky while his are ruined by the constant biting he did in the car. He is a ruination—how can you want him? He ruined your relationship. And now even his tears have stained your angelic, pure face. 

“I feel like I’ve ruined everything,” he admits and his chest hurts, lungs tight, body trembling in that persisting cold. “I’ve ruined your relationship. I’ve ruined your life. Yoongi’s. Caused so much pain, so much trauma. Only because I let my friends convince me into going out when I came back from the military.” 

The wrinkle between your brows smooths down and you pout, caressing his face. Jungkook can’t halt the rivulet of his liquid emotions. Not when he feels your love so awfully intensely, embracing him around and around, tightening, giving him a sense of safety. 

“Can I tell you something?” You take his hand in yours and Jungkook already misses your warm touch on his face. He nods. “Where’s your room?” 

He leads you there and you crawl onto his bed, patting the space beside you, curling on your side. He mirrors your position and you prop the side of your leg on his, intertwining your fingers with his on the bedding, moving his hand to your mouth. 

And your words seep into his fist. 

“We were together for five months and I never met his family. Never met his friends, except you. I never really thought about it in depth because he kept me busy, despite the fact all we did was fuck. It was enough for me, I guess, because I’d been alone for a long, long time before I met him. And I’m a bit of a loner myself so I didn’t mind that we spent all of our time in his apartment, fucking and watching movies. It wasn’t until I met you, Jungkook,” you pause, taking a big breath in, fondling his knuckles with your thumb, soothing him, soothing the drowsiness that is suddenly falling upon him like a blanket, waving off his tears, drying them. “That I realized it’s not really supposed to be like this in my life. I remember that night when he was out with you and I was in the bathroom. I thought about when was the last time he took me out and I shivered. I shivered, Jungkook. It was the first seed sown and I didn’t know. And when you came into my life, I spent my weekends out with you. You took me to your cabin, you took me out to dinner dates. Even today you took me to the mall. I realized it’s supposed to be like this. Yoongi never did that.” 

Your words tingle across his fist and he’s quick with his own. “But were you happy?” 

So are you. You don’t hesitate. “I thought I was, but the way I’m happy with you can’t compare to the way I thought I was happy with him.” 

The truth wafts in the air, sweetening it and another onrush of tears come out of his tear ducts. He leans in closer to you, nose to nose, sniffling, sobbing quietly and you kiss his hand. Over and over, breathing against his skin. Light opens in him as the truth unfolds—with the little time he had with you, he managed to make you happier. Not just happy, but happier.

“I had a lot of time to think about this. It wasn’t just today that he didn’t speak to me. He barely did throughout the week, but today was the worst of it all and I couldn’t take it anymore. It hurt, it hurt so much,” you continue and Jungkook knows how much it pains you, when Yoongi abandons you over and over, clawing his fingernails in your scars. He’s glad, brims completely with that gratefulness that it also rolls down his cheeks, mingling with his tears, that you were strong enough to put a stop to it—as hard as it was. “And you know what I think? Yoongi needs someone like that. Someone who’s a much bigger loner than I am. Someone who’s okay with staying home, with keeping things casual. He needs a friend and I’ll continue being that for him, but not in the way he wants. I’ll be there for him, but not as closely as he was used to, you know? It has to be a process. I can’t just disappear out of his life. I don’t have the heart to do that.” 

Extending his arm, Jungkook invites you to rest your head against his bicep—only because he yearns to touch you. Without untangling your intertwinement, you lay against him, breathing in his scent and Jungkook wraps the same arm around your shoulders, cocooning you in. Body to body, his lips against your forehead. You look up at him and he looks down at you, a profound exchange of glances. The reality shifts once more, the energy deepens, filling it with something beyond affection and love—fate thickening the air, intense, earnest and impassioned. And submitting to it, Jungkook raises your chin and kisses you, deeply, slipping his tongue inside just briefly. Kisses your cheek, your neck, your shoulder, hides himself in that crook, breathing with you and nothing else.

A brand new reality. 

He can’t help but think about how smart you are. How admirable, how good. How well you handled everything, how well you made an order out of your life and ultimately out of Yoongi’s, too. Like Jungkook will take care of you, you will take care of Yoongi—not leaving him on his own with his shattered heart and mental health. He just hopes that sometime soon, he will be able to have a part in it, too. It’s his utmost wish. No matter how upset he was with him, how strongly he disliked him in certain moments, it’s still a person he loves, a person he spent the last ten years of his life with. A family, almost. 

“Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?” Jungkook whispers, squeezing you against his body, drawing you closer until your lungs and his gain that singular synchronization. Your leg straddles his torso and he grows greedy, needing you even closer. Needing to get underneath your skin. 

“I’ll try my best to make it happen,” you whisper back, running your fingers through his hair. The light that shines in your eyes faintly illuminates his shadowy room and it’s precisely the one he longed to see. Something tells him it’s here to stay and it drives his thumb to caress your wet lashes, the skin beneath your eyes, your rose-kissed cheek. 

Jungkook trusts you. You’re such a badass that you will succeed in anything you set yourself out to do. And he tells you. Asks you if you want to take a bath. Thinks it will distract your heart from what it knows, from what it’s used to. Teach it something new—something you will connect only with him.

And your reaction enlarges his heart to the point that it breaks his ribcage. Your eyes widen, its light erupting, blinding him, and you gasp, lifting your whole body and grabbing his shirt in your fists. He chuckles in endearment. 

“You have a bathtub?” 

And your eyes almost fall out of their sockets at the sight of it once he carries you to his bathroom and sets you down. He kisses the back of your head, his hands on your hips, guiding you closer to the bathtub, reaching over to lift the tap and let hot water pour down. You both need it after such an emotionally-exhausting day and Jungkook is eager to get in with you. 

“Stay here. Don’t strip. I’ll get your candle,” Jungkook says, lowly, squeezing your hips once and caressing your bum as he turns around and heads to the kitchen. 

He wants to be the one who takes off your clothes. Plans to do something with you he hasn’t done in a long while, something he deems you deserve after everything you’ve been through. He grabs your mango-scented candle, your bag of cheese balls, a lighter and a chair and returns to you. 

You’re crouching by the bathtub, your hand flowing in the hot water, its steam curling, tenderly, your hair cascading down your back. Jungkook pats the back of your head to announce that he’s come back and you smile up at him, your eyes big and twinkling, so magnificent that he grows weak in the knees, butterflies fluttering their wings in his stomach. 

Lighting up your candle, you watch as he does it, each three knots flaring up to life and suffusing the air with a balmy, tropical scent. He sets it down on the chair and, helping you stand up to your feet, he doesn’t waste a second. His fingers hook under the hem of your top and fling it out. And because he knows you’ve never bared yourself like this before him, he hides your nakedness by pressing you against his chest, your soft breasts a pleasure, his digits sliding beneath your leggings and dragging them down your hips, looking over your shoulder. You shimmy out of them, moving your hips ever so delightfully and before he knows it, he’s on his knees—kissing the apex of your thighs as he takes your feet out of the pant legs. And he thinks he could stay here all his life. 

Jungkook looks up at you as he removes your socks, kissing your knee without breaking the gaze, and he hopes that you can sense his love for you in it, the unyielding stability that he will cling to you with his body and soul—simply, with his entire being. 

Rising slowly, he kisses his pathway up, leaving behind the translucent evidence of that love. Your mound, which makes you giggle, a celestial symphony to his ears, your full tummy where he hopes your invisible rose tattoos still are, both sides of your ribs, the middle of your breasts, your sternum, your collarbones, your throat, your chin—up and up until his lips find yours. And he devours them. With such vigor that you hum into his mouth, your hands reaching for his shirt again. 

Oh, you want him to get in as well. Very well. 

He wanted to be the witness to your relaxation, but if it’s your desire that he shares it with you—by all means. He lets you take off his shirt, lifting his arms for you, and you’re quick to allow your hands to discover the parts they don’t know. His mole beneath his left pec that he caught you staring at shortly after that turn of events at the cabin. You press your mouth against it, unravel your love for it there by grazing your teeth against it before you lick it over with your tongue, going as far as marking the spot right beside it. Jungkook sinks his fingers in your hair, reveling in it, tummy tingling, holding you like that as you do what you please. Your own digits descend to his pants, setting him free from them and when you get on your knees just like him, his cock tightens in your face. 

And he dies, angels know for how many times today, when you rub your face in this intimate part of him, his heart bursting.

Not now—he can’t let you do that now. He wants your muscles to relax first before he can strain them all over again, in a much different way. 

“My sweetie,” he starts, sighing, rubbing your scalp. He takes you by the back of your neck, sliding his hand underneath your armpit, and drags you up. A healthy, radiant flush adorns you and he’s glad for the paleness to be gone. Glad his body is the cause of it. It makes his heart happy. “Not now. Let’s get in the tub.” 

Your stiffened nipples brush against his bare chest and he almost doubles over, loving the feeling of it. The sigh that leaves your mouth, so akin to his, too. 

“But you’re hard,” you whisper, tugging down his boxers until his cock springs free and you immediately wrap your small hand around it, squeezing him lightly. 

He can’t help but to grunt, the faint pleasure dizzying. He missed your hand, missed your touch. Haven’t had it in so long. It fits so well in your fist and he believes, in all seriousness, that it belongs to you. It’s yours. 

He brushes his lips against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. His brain malfunctions a little bit, the pleasure you’re giving him zapping his dominance. “You like holding me like this?” 

You fondle his tip with your thumb and he hisses, sparks of electricity coursing down his body and he hums at the aftershocks. So good. He feels his arousal drip for you; feels himself lengthening in your hand. You nod, watching it happen, and while it feels nice to be looked at like that, he wants your eyes on him. He cradles your face in one hand, making you look at him, and he pecks you. At the contact, you finally nod your head. Jungkook envelops his palm around your fist and guides you to squeeze him harder, groaning onto your mouth. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises and embraces you, hiding himself in the crook of your neck again, inhaling you. Petrichor, mango, your personal scent. It’s all he wants to breathe in for the rest of his life. It’s what heaven must smell like. Actually, heaven must be what he’s hugging. 

You whimper and for it Jungkook tightens his hold around you. Skin to skin. He’ll never get over it. “I love being good for you.” 

He hums his approval, following the cascade of your hair down your back with his palm, rooting at your bum, grasping the flesh. “You’re the best girl. Let’s get you clean.” 

The loss of contact aches and he can see it even on your face, an adorable pout forming on your mouth. Helping you get in the bathtub, you wait until he joins you and it’s only then that you sit down, unsure of how both of you are going to fit in such a small space like this. Knees in between his, you exchange a few giggles in the awkwardness of it all before Jungkook kisses them and leads you to lean back against him, your spine against his chest, your body getting lost in his. 

Turning off the tap, the water is scorching but pleasant, his muscles relaxing, the very little remnants of the fight of his self-blame tearing apart at last. It must be as enjoyable for you because once you settle in and you take in the heat, the effect of the candle, the dimmed light and the soft shower of rain pittering against the windows, you let loose completely, your head slack against his sternum, breathing steadily, eyes fluttering closed. Jungkook wraps his arms around you, your breasts pressed against them, and he loves the feeling of your raw femininity in his hands, in such a nonsexual context. His arousal might be alive and longing for you, but that feeling, somehow, overweighs it in a way he’s unable to understand. 

He doesn’t mind; he could stay like this. 

And both of you do for some time, feeling each other’s top halves of bodies, resting, thinking of nothing, until you tip your chin and, puckering your lips, you ask for a kiss. Arch your back until your breasts bounce free from his hold. His cock twitches against your back from the sight and you smirk. 

Sly little girl. He cages them once again, though this time quite differently. One hand grabs the flesh at the base, the other sneaks to your chin, your other breast nudged in the crook of his elbow. His finger traces the lines of your lips, flattened now, kissing it every once in a while. And as if it was a signal for you to open up when he stalls his movement in the middle, you open up for him. And the feeling of your tongue, the suction of your lips, the sound of it all—it drives him to head down the path of absolute madness. 

He might have just found his ultimate weakness. 

Jungkook adds a second finger in, when you angle your body, so he can have a good view of it, your head propped against the bathtub wall, lidded eyes fixed on him. 

So much for relaxing. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, swiftly, causing your brows to knit in confusion. It humors him, but you’re not getting your way that easily. 

“You should relax,” he scolds in a teasing manner, not meaning a word of it. “You’ve had a long day of shopping.” 

You laugh through your nose, a soft smile gracing your lips and for a split second, Jungkook wonders if he didn’t ruin the moment again by altering the reality again, bringing back the memory of what’s happened. If he didn’t invite in your guilt, perhaps. You’re here with him, about to be made love to, while the person you still love is dealing with brokenness on the other side of the city. 

And he tells you in the form of a kiss sunk into your cheek, drawing your body closer to him, cradling the back of your neck, squishing you against him. It causes you to turn your body to the side, slightly, and Jungkook hikes you higher, letting you lean your face against his cheek like that, pecking you over and over again. There isn’t enough body of water to overspill from the tub, but your shifting caused small waves to lap at your body and Jungkook finds himself transfixed by the sight of it. It seems as though the ripples are worshiping your body and an inkling to do the same, to do better, rises in him—as well as the impulse to tell you with words this time. 

He should verbally communicate with you. Just to be safe. 

“Did I remind you of it again?” 

Your fingertips follow the valleys of his abdomen, half dipped in the water. 

“Remind me of what?” you say and there’s a striking gentleness to your voice, some kind of blissfulness that feels terribly foreign to him. “Of my freedom?” 

A bearable tightness clutches his chest, interlaced, most heartily, with the simplicity of his shock. Freedom. With his directions, you set yourself free. It should be something to perhaps honor and rejoice over—so why is there still a morsel of pity swarming in him? He needs you to tell him. 

A streamlet of tears blurs his vision. Because his clinginess to you intensifies with each move forward, for the most part. Because he feels bad for his friend, for the lesser. 

“Why do I feel so bad for him?” Jungkook questions, pressing you harder against him until there isn’t any more space to push you into. 

You plop your body onto his. Chest to chest. Tummy to tummy. His cock, a bit soft now, against your femininity. Nonsexually, in all its beauty. You drag your thumbs under his waterline, collecting his essence of pain. His heart constricts. 

“My freedom is his,” you say, still holding him like that—both palms on his cheeks. “We’d be stuck in a circle like this. We’d go round and round until one of us would burst and end things eventually. He’d never fully heal in this environment. He’d never look past his own insecurities, not when I’d continue to enjoy myself with you the way I always did.” 

He thinks the merry go round had already begun the moment he and Yoongi made up and tried again. And considering the last thing he said to him on the phone today, there’s nothing left to do but to accept it. 

Your freedom is his. Those words ring in his headspace, settling there. By unbuckling yourself from the seat of that ride, you did the same for him. And while you got off, Yoongi still remains seated. 

For now. 

He’ll get out of there. Jungkook believes in him. 

“I’m meant to be with you,” you say and his heart goes wild, violently, under your forearm. For you. You’ve said it. You’ve made it official. Brought it into this new reality and Jungkook could weep again—and he does. Touched by his emotions, you kiss his tears, sighing against them. “I’m yours, Jungkook. Have been the moment I looked into your eyes the very first time.” 

Your bare, boundless truth drives him to reveal his, too. Such power you have, such strength. 

“You know I have feelings for you, right?” he murmurs, an allusion to the way you wept together in the dressing room, brushing your hair back, feeling his tenderness radiating off of his eyes, immensely. How easy it is, to tell you something groundbreaking like that, even as absurdly as he did. “Don’t let go of me. Don’t let go of those feelings. Keep them safe.” 

Your own tears pool in your waterline and you nod, a smile glinting upon your lips. So you knew, felt the love like he did, enkindled by your mutual release. He wasn’t wrong. His heart pounds and for the first time upon this trajectory, this doesn’t feel unreal. It feels real. Alive, possible, full of life. 

“I do, too. Held them in for so long. Never admitted it to myself for his sake. But that’s over now. I’ll keep it safe. All of you, Jungkook.” 

You love him. 

His sobs gather in his sternum, his lungs too small to capture them in place. 

You love him. And it’s real. 

Gripping your hair, he kisses you, deeply. And both streams of tears turn into one river—and both of you can’t halt the hunger creeping in. The hunger for more, for your love to burst at last and absorb your reality. Tongues mingling, tasting something new. Teeth clashing, lips tingling. Breaths hard and ragged. Jungkook can’t take it. Can’t hold back his body from lifting off of the rounded wall of the tub, the water sloshing and splashing all around. 

And then you say something that grazes his madness ever so unmercifully. 

“Put it in.” 

He groans, biting your bottom lip, fingertips making dents on your small waist. Horny girl, asking for something you can’t handle. He swears, his arousal awakening yet again in full speed, taking over him wholly. “I haven’t stretched you out yet.” 

You grind your femininity against his tightening cock and he’s done for, feeling your pulse. “Stretch me out like this.” 

He squeezes your ass hard, making you moan onto his mouth, in effort to make you listen to him and submit to his better knowing. “It’ll hurt, sweetheart.” 

Your breath wafts over him as you close your lips over his, sucking. “I can take it.” 

Such a stark contrast to the words you uttered in the dressing room. His madness heightens. So much that he moans into your lip lock, dipping you in the water to make you laugh, clutching onto him as you yelp, your adorable laughter vibrating through the bathroom, bouncing off of the walls and sneaking, in the long run, into the chambers of his heart, coming to live there.  

This is happiness. 

And the vibrations are too, too much for him to handle. So unusual, so beautiful. 

“Hold onto me,” Jungkook commands as he wraps your legs around his torso tighter and rises, stepping out of the bathtub and reaching for a towel in his cabinet while his other hand holds you steady by his forearm under your bum like a child. 

Leaving you to your own strength for a second, he wraps the large fabric around you both, bunching the ends in his fist on your back, exiting out of the bathroom and laying you down onto his bed. Your hair sprawls on his bedding and he thinks you look like an angel, maddened just the same by something beyond lust, by something way purer. He kisses your lips, fleetingly, and begins to focus on your neck, unfurling his love there. He sucks your wet skin, licking it all over, scattering his hard kisses there—the ones that drive you wild, moaning loudly and bravely, deservingly so. And he marks this victorious day there with pretty, pretty colors of red and purple. Doesn’t stop. Not until you beg him, writhing underneath him, excited and eager. 

“Please, Jungkook, take me.” 

Such sweet, innocent words. He listens, cooing, dragging you further up on the bed, so he can lie on top of you and take his hard kisses further down, marking all the places where your invisible tattoos are, bringing them to life all over again. Above both of your nipples, especially on the right one, where that frilly rose was, covering the peak. And he feels you melt, feels you soak his lower abdomen when he sucks on that nub, flicking his tongue, making you cry out so beautifully, so desperately that his arousal for you rigidifies. And when he looks at his artwork, fists propped on either side of you like his knees, it steals all of his breath. 

“You look so beautiful like this. All mine.” 

All his, wet with the last drops of water, with the pearls of his saliva, with your essence coating your folds. Adorned with red tattoos. He has his own on his arm and hand, except on his chest and he thinks the one he gave you make up for it. Thinks they’re his as much as they’re yours and it causes his length to twitch against his stomach, so terribly needy for you. 

“And you look beautiful like this. All hard for me,” you mimic his words and he grows feral, even more so when you continue. “It’s all mine, isn’t it?” You take him into your hand again, but he pins both of your wrists down, above your head. And the smile you grace him with—it makes him yearn to make love to you like this. Bound, while the rest of you would remain the quite opposite. 

He growls, kissing you. “All yours. All yours for you to take and come around. All yours, my sweetheart. Always has been.” He kisses you harder and you whimper. Pulls away just to swirl his tongue around yours, open mouth and all, before closing his lips down again in a profound, warm and homely lock. “Spread your legs for me. I’m gonna get you ready for it.” 

He does it himself, folding you in half, the glistening of your folds visible even in the slight lack of light in the room. Oh, he can’t have you like this. Reaching behind himself, he turns on his bedside lamp, bathing you in a soft, yellow light that suits you the most. You’re holding your legs apart for him and he places wet kisses on the back of your thigh, ravagedly, to reward you for it, trailing them down until he’s face to face with your drenched princess parts. And it’s a groan of relief that emits out of him when he’s this close to you, hands pushing your knees down, spreading you even more to gratify his hunger. 

He’s starving. Terribly starving. 

And he rolls his eyes back when he takes the entirety of you into his mouth, tongue dragging upon your slit, up and down, drinking your dew, penetrating only a little bit just to tease you, just to mess around with your madness. And when he flattens his tongue against your swollen clit, you cry out. Surprise him when you grip his hair, enough to cause him to flick his eyes to you. Your mouth is parted, but grinning nonetheless, your own eyes heavily lidded, emitting light and joy and Jungkook simply decides to make this experience better for you. 

He lifts your hips in the air and devours you, lapping at your clit over and over again, letting you see what he’s doing to you without taking his eyes off of you, nose pressed against your shiny mound. You whisper your vulgarities and he’d let it pass if he didn’t consider this a holy, spiritual occurrence. He withdraws and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him, the way your slick trickles down your clit and your mound, rooting in the squishy part of your lower tummy. He hums, delighting in the sight. 

“Be good,” he scolds, smiling down at you and your grin widens. You nod your head, your hands still crossed above you without his to hold them down. Scratch his words—you’re already the best girl. He licks up the trickle of your essence trailing down your clit, making you writhe again. “Feel how wet you are for me.” 

Carefully, you skim your palm down your soaked belly, gasping, until your fingers reach your nub, the concoction of his saliva and your arousal seeping into your skin. He encourages you with noises of approval to keep going, bending you even more in half, your back leaning against his thighs, the pads of your fingers circling your center, eyes wide at the discovery, able to see just how celestially aroused you are for him. So beautiful. He bites onto the flesh upon the side of your thigh, only because he can’t help it, soothing down the sting with his tongue. And he hums at the sound of your moans, at the sound of your slipperiness when you drag your fingers down to your clit and stop there. 

“Hm, yes, sweetheart, rub that pretty clit for me,” he murmurs and his chest explodes at the principle that he’s able to say that to you. That he doesn’t need anyone’s permission or approval. That he can do whatever he pleases with you without any consequences to reap. That he’s free. You must be thinking about this, too, but in a different way, because you hesitate. He’ll destroy that dubiety. It won’t show its face again—as long as he lives on this earth. “You can do it, my love. You’re free.” 

The reassurance washes over you and rids you of that fleeting negativity. He understands this is new for the both of you—there’s some still getting used to, so it’s completely normal. He’ll try his hardest to make this as much of an easy ride for you as he can. It’s his duty. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he continues, adding your name, softly. “You’re here with me and you’re safe.” 

Jungkook leans over and kisses you. You nod into the kiss and he returns to his position, catching you rubbing your clit, slowly, with two fingers, the other spread on your folds. And both of you moan simultaneously. 

“That’s it,” he whispers, enthralled, making way for the sound of your slick to overpower the atmosphere. “That’s my good girl. Make yourself feel good for me.” 

You whimper his name, buckling your hips in his hold, squeezing your eyes shut and Jungkook can see the waves of pressure charging your tender body. Now is the time for his participation. 

He sinks his middle finger inside, making your eyes pop open and stare him down, just for you to submerge yourself under the surface of that sea of lust and let your irises whisk back. Your walls clench around him and he waits until you speed up your circles to join his other finger, biting his lip to push back his desire to sink himself inside you. He tries to pay little attention to the way he drips for you. 

But then you use the rest of your fingers to bring yourself to your climax and Jungkook takes it as a sign. Another finger in, he curls them, fucking you the way you like. Fast, grazing your sweet little spot that beckons your sweat out of your pores and when your pussy drools even more for him, he adds another. You gasp and he knows exactly how you’re feeling, how good this is for you. 

“You feel so full, sweetheart, don’t you?” he coos, jackhammering his hand harder and you drench it, completely. He flattens his fingers, allowing you to see the thick sheen and you mewl, a litany of his name spilling along. “You’re so wet. So horny for me, aren’t you? You’re gonna come?” 

You scream your agreement, squirming, strumming your fingers harder and this is it for him. He changes direction. Fucks his fingers up and down and your toes curl, chest heaving heavily and you just keep on screaming. A delightful sound. 

“Come for me, then. Like the best girl you are.” 

You clench around him. So much that he can barely move his fingers, sunk in so deeply. He just flexes them, drawing out your orgasm and you give it to him. 

And you’re wet all over again. Sprinkled by pearls upon pearls of your pleasure. He is, too, and it worsens his desperation for you. 

You’re panting, but he’s not done with you. Setting you down, he laps up the violent evidence of your orgasm, making you twitch in overstimulation and he eases the pressure of his tongue for you. Sucking on your folds, he decides to mark you there. Just below your hip bone, too. Such intimate places. Perfect for a temporary keepsake like this. 

Hovering above you, he circles his tongue tinged with your taste around yours, forcing you to moan again. And he kisses you softly. “You deserved that orgasm.” 

You whine, red all over, and Jungkook understands you need more. He pulls away, clutches himself to line up at your entrance, but you stop him. 

“I want you.” 

He smirks, longs to hear you be more specific. “How?” 

You huff. So adorable. “In my mouth.” 

He chuckles. Should’ve asked where, but he’s at your service—he’s willing to give you anything you want. “All right, but just for a little bit, okay?” You nod, vehemently, and he pats your cheek. “On your knees.” 

Oh, he’ll never tire of the view of your submissiveness, of your hunger for such a private part of him. He makes a mess for you on the towel, dripping more than he ever has, and he holds himself at the base, grabbing your jaw in his hand. Brutality, the one he’s obsessed with, swims past your irises when you gaze up at him. A feral animal, an angel in hiding—he’d love to embellish you with the sticky traces of his fixation, but he shouldn’t, no matter how much he craves it. He can’t stain you, not today. Can’t ruin the holiness. He’ll let you play with him before he seals it for all eternity. 

Tomorrow he will. Smear you with it until it’s all your pores know. 

Jungkook traces the lines of your mouth with the tip of his length, just like he did with his finger in the bathtub, and you hum, liking it. He can vividly see your yearning to rub your face against him again and he lets you, encourages you in fact, pulling you closer until you nuzzle your nose against his girth, his skin caressing your cheek, and you kiss him all over. Place your hands over his and suck him inside your mouth, drinking his precum. Only to withdraw right away, sit back on your legs without lifting your hands, and look up at him with the vastness of your overbearing innocence and love. 

“You’re mine,” you purr, fucking him with your fist. 

Jungkook nods, just once. Doesn’t even feel his butterflies anymore, too numbed by you, by the pleasure you’re giving him. “That’s right, my love.” 

You suck in a breath, biting your lip hard as if it took all of your energy not to make him come at this very instant. And you lengthen your spine, asking for a kiss again, and he bends at the waist, kissing you nastily, pushing your head back to his cock, inciting you to do what you truly crave to. 

And you take him so well, your cheeks hollow, and he’s unabashed, free to let out his male noises, whimpering for you, panting heavily as you bob your head, slurping him, spitting on him. You toy with his tip, tugging at his length, colliding into his fist and it isn’t until you rub your face against his balls that it becomes his undoing. He stalls his orgasm, strains to do so, just to please you and he pries your hands away from his length, lets you focus on his sack. The least he could do to last. But then you grab it into your fist, sucking his balls, one by one, into your mouth, even try to take both of them at once and that’s it. He can’t breathe, his heart wringing painfully with all the love that brims in him for you. No one has ever done that to him. 

You flick your tongue against them, your other hand wrapping around his tip again, tugging and he nears dangerously close to the bursting of his orgasm. 

“That’s enough.” 

He draws you away from his cock, using all of his strength, and pins you down. A splutter of your giggles waft in the air, your chin wet with your spit and he moves his mouth so rapidly against yours that you struggle to kiss him back, growing calm all of a sudden, as if overcome with the gravity of it all. 

He looks at you for a long while. Puffy, red mouth, that he craves to bite onto—and he does. Darkened eyes, full of freedom and exhilaration. Neck, chest, tummy and the rest of the delicious parts of you scattered with hickeys, with his own personal keepsakes. He loves you so much that he becomes frustrated, needing to let it out somehow. All of his muscles tense and he clenches his grip on your wrists. 

“You want me to die? Is that what you want?” he hisses, speaking of the sloppy blowjob you gave him, gliding his wet cock across your seashell. You lose a breath, drowsy eyes fluttering, spreading your legs for him. No wonder you’re tired—you gave it your all. He sinks his teeth hard into his bottom lip, his frustration rising, brows knitted. “You can’t play with me like that. I was seconds away from coming all over your pretty face.” 

“I wanted you to,” you say, loud and clear, and Jungkook is hot all over. 

Turning you over to your side, he squeezes the flesh of your bum until it hurts as a punishment, knowing you’re not ready for the full thing. It’s too soon. Your wincing breaks into a low, alluring moan and it fills him with adrenaline. And then you smile at him, light flashing in your countenance. You’re anything but punished; you’re pleased. 

Looks like you need another form of punishment. 

Fuck it, fuck all spiritual aspects of this. The angels in heaven need to look away for now and cover their ears. He’s going to make love to you in a way they’ve never witnessed before and it’s good that they never will. 

“What did you say?” Jungkook feignedly questions, pinning you back down and burying himself in your heat. Having stretched you out well enough, he gives you his half right away, but he doesn’t stop there, not when you lift your chest off of the mattress, not when you lose yourself in the sudden fullness and the music of your mutual moans. You grip him so tight that he forgets, for a split moment, what he’s punishing you for. 

You stammer, seemingly forgetting, too. And when his mound kisses yours, your words falter altogether—a crescendo into silence. Eyes wide, unblinking, taking him most courageously. Jungkook hums, immensely proud of you, slowly pounding you into the mattress with hard strokes. 

And when he gives you a particularly unmerciful one, you scream, shaking all over in his hands. 

“Yes, sweetheart, that’s what you get,” he purrs, grinding his hips, loving the way he toys with your senses, your peaked nubs digging into his chest, and you can’t catch your breath, your whole body tense. “Too deep?” 

You nod. “Too deep, baby, I can’t take it, fuck. It’s too much.” 

Cooing, he kisses you. The pet name, your tightness—he’s losing his mind and it’s your fault. Your wonderful, wonderful fault. You don’t even let him pull out, you keep him caged in, your walls fluttering against him and he whimpers, shaking like you, unable to continue kissing you. 

“Relax, my love, or you’re really gonna kill me,” he croaks out, ascending to heavenly places where they don’t, in most certainty, don’t want to see him. Sitting back on his feet, he thumbs your clit, helping you calm down. “Good girl. Feels good, stuffed full like this? My thumb rubbing your sweet little clit, hm?” 

It is a miracle, the way he knows your body and knows what to do with it because your walls loosen, enabling him to fuck you, sloppily, your slick squeaking along with your quickening breaths. You scream out your yeses, driving him to give you his all. 

“Just like that,” he whispers, approving, his balls tightening already, the pressure in his lower tummy becoming bigger. 

You deserve the full thing, though. Jungkook places your knee on his shoulder. And with each stroke, his mound stimulates your clit, getting you nice and fast to his level. 

He cradles your blissed-out face, the heel of his palm putting pressure on your throat. And onto that expression of elation, he uncoils his love for you, brutally fucking you until your whole body ripples beneath him. 

“Whose are you, huh?” he moans, driving into you, rearranging your guts. Sweat drips off of his forehead. “Whose pretty girl are you?” 

Your own sounds of pleasure rise in pitch and volume and he senses, he knows you’re about to come for him. 

“Yours, Jungkook, yours,” you choke out and he’s so proud of you that he hums, his balls slapping against your bum, and he kisses you, giving you his tongue. You suck on it, getting him right there to the edge of his orgasm. 

“Fuck, such a good girl. All mine. You know that I love you, right?” 

And the once reappearing absurdity of his choice of words pushes over that edge and you squeeze him, squeeze him hard, milking his cum out of you and he growls into your mouth. You take over each and every one of his senses, making them yours, and he fucks his cum into you, his mouth smacking against yours, as you whisper your I love you’s and he swallows them down. 

Heaven or something beyond. You created it and he wants to spend the rest of his life there. 

Panting, he kisses your jaw, marking you there for the last time. Unbelief grasping him that he finds himself in such a place glazed with love. “You love me?” 

You whimper, shuddering all over, your orgasm still seizing you. “I love you so fucking much.” 

He licks into your mouth, ending your release. “My best girl. I’ll take care of you. I’ll never let you go. You’re never getting out of my sight again.” 

Jungkook lets go of your wrists. They must be cramping, tingling and he massages them in the air, sitting back, his length still inside your homely heat. Your eyes wet again, sobs break out of your mouth and he shushes you most affectionately, his heart twinging. He lifts you and sits you down on his lap, hugging you close to his chest. Skin to skin. You cling to him with everything in you and he holds you together, so you don’t fall apart. 

“You’re my savior. My healer,” you wail, gripping his hair. As if your breaking wasn’t enough, your words hit him hard and his vision soaks along with yours. You’ve never told him that before—never told him the roles he has in your life. He appreciates them so much, holds them dear to his heart. Never wants to forget them. “Don’t ever leave me, please. I beg you.” 

It’s him who now breaks. Right there on your shoulder, beneath the waterfall of your hair. 

“I could never. You’re my life. You’re my everything. How could I ever leave you?” 

You sob harder, lifting your head, and the sight of your rawness makes him fall even more in love with you. Jungkook smooths down your hair and wipes away your tears. Kisses you, deeply, and lingers there. And along with the kiss, you and him exchange your last I love you’s for the night. 

Tub drained, candle snuffed out, cheese balls devoured, the rain finishing like that chapter of your life—Jungkook feels himself entering a brand new one with you, one where Yoongi isn’t present, as he dresses you in his clothes. For panties, he slinks your legs into his boxers, keeping them warm with a pair of his own joggers. Then, he tugs his hoodie down your head, pushing your arms through the sleeves. Smirks at the way his clothes fit you well. As if they were your own. At the way he matches with you. 

He overflows with a thrumming life. 

A brand new chapter filled with myriads of different, ecstatic possibilities. And you seal them to completion, when tucked in bed, lying on his chest, you sleepily utter the first prospect that you want to bring to life.

“Will you take me to your cabin tomorrow?” 

His breath hitches in his throat. He never thought he’d be returning there so soon, especially not with you. His mouth quirks up, body suffused with a foreign excitement, and right away he deduces the reason why you want to go there. 

“You really want that dildo, don’t you?” 

You merely laugh through your nose. 

Oh, he’s calling in sick tomorrow. Will take you there first thing in the morning. Will do absolutely anything for you. 

“I’ll fuck you hard with it until you completely drench it, then. Sleep for now, so we can get to tomorrow.” 

You kiss his clothed chest. Nuzzle your face in it. Whisper your thank you. Jungkook pretends he didn’t just get hard all over again. 

“Good night,” you say. 

He pecks your hair. “Good night, sweetheart.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[zarnzarn]

part three of the reverse odyssey au! polites' pov this time, cause I thought a constantly changing motive explanation would be fun

1/2/3/4

||

Later, they find that it is the prayer of a terrified Elepnor clinging to the mast that saved them.

He'd called out in fear in the prayer he'd heard the most, growing from a boy of ten to a youth of twenty in the Trojan War, under Odysseus and his quick, odd prayers to his patron goddess- and half-surprised, half out of reflex, Polites had thought later by the look on the goddesses' own face-

Athena had answered.

She'd guided their ship to shore through the storm, somehow, and then stood at the wheel, taller than anyone Polites had ever seen, straight-backed and proud. Staring at them all as they slowly got to their feet, bowing and muttering prayers under their breath as they prostrated, more than half of them trembling in fear.

They'd all known their captain was blessed by the Goddess of Wisdom, in a way that was more than a mere touch or grey eyes. All known the way he'd sometimes stop talking and stare into the distance, and bark out orders for a convoluted, twisted, wonderful plan after.

Polites had known it was something more the day his friend had stumbled out of the forest all those years ago, silent as an owl and grin sharper than it used to be. Eyes no longer Hermes' kaleidoscope-amber ones that hurt to look at, but a gleaming silver that struck you still where you stood to listen.

But this was still more terrifying than any battle they'd ever faced.

(He saw so much of Odysseus in her, even standing still, that it hurt.

They had been so close.)

"Owl Lady!" Telemachus cheers, and runs out from behind his mother's skirts to the Goddess of War. Penelope makes an aborted movement towards him, dredging up some mortification beyond the haunted expression on her face (if only they'd had one moment more, to grab each other's hands even a little, if she'd just grabbed at him tightly, if they hadn't forgotten to get rid of that accused windbag-) at the way Telemachus runs to Athena with even less fear than his father had, grinning wide up at her as he hugs her shins in greeting.

"Telemachus," She says, bemused and fond. Her voice is... familiar, actually. Polites can't place it for a second, until Penelope makes an odd choking sound next to him and memory assaults- of Odysseus running around shouting with joy after his son's birth, proudly showing him off to everyone around as if he looked anything more than a raisin, Penelope tiredly laughing as she lay against the pillows. Of him suddenly pausing and turning to the strange cloaked woman in the corner and dragging her out into the light to gently hand her his son.

"Odysseus," she'd hissed, sounding panicked, yet he'd just laughed and shifted her hands to support Telemachus' head. Polites and Penelope had frowned at each other, confused, but Odysseus had only teased the woman about a newborn baby being the thing to scare her and offered them no explanations, and what the fuck, that had been Athena.

Penelope's eye twitches a little bit, some of the heartbreak clearing up in her face in favour of a strong wish for strangulation. Polites empathized. What was wrong with Odysseus.

She stares at them now, expectant, and Polites realises what she's waiting for the same moment her lips curl into a sneer of rage. Shit, right, she and Odysseus had had some sort of falling out after the cyclops-

"So," She says, dangerously low. "Does the King of Ithaca think himself more powerful than the Goddess of Wisdom, that he spurns my presence in such a way? Or-"

"He's been taken by Poseidon."

Polites doesn't know the words come from him until Athena swivels her head around to face him.

Oh fuck.

He takes a shuddering breath as he pushes himself to his feet. Glances out to the side and feels his heart drop at the unfamiliar waters, so far away from-

He turns back to Athena and gathers his courage. "Poseidon appeared before us, one year ago. Demanded reparations for the hurt we dealt to the cyclops, his son."

"So then why target-" Athena cuts herself off, teeth gnashing. Her hair starts rising, even though there's no breeze, feathers appearing across her visible skin. "I had rescinded my blessings from him! For this very reason, so Poseidon wouldn't-"

She stops talking with a hiss, pinching the bridge of her nose in barely contained fury. Polites' breath catches. She'd taken her blessings back- to protect Odysseus, of course, her feud with Poseidon was well-known to everyone and anyone, so the ocean god wouldn't take it out on her favoured.

Did Odysseus know that, Polites wants to ask her, remembering the absolute mourning devastation on his friend's face for that one day before it all went to shit, but knows it won't help anyone.

He swallows and continues. This part is going to anger her beyond anything, he knows. "Poseidon cursed him into a creature of the sea," He says cautiously, watching strange colors dance across her armour in her growing anger, looking less and less like a woman as he spoke, eyes glowing fire-hot. "His legs melted and turned into the tail of a fish, and he no longer could breathe above land, so we had to put him in the sea. And-"

His throat closes up, and the sailors around wince back, gathering Telemachus and pulling each other away from the wheel, knowing what's about to come.

"And?" Athena says, deceptively calm, as she watches them stumble away from her.

Polites gulps and feels tears run down his face as he says it. "And he ripped out his tongue."

Athena screams.

||

After they've all wiped the blood from their ears and eyes and huddled down in the belly of the ship, holding onto each other until they've stopped trembling-

They're going to write songs about that scream, Polites thinks vaguely, staring up at the wood. His hands still are shaking. The rage of Athena will be recorded for the ages, in songs and poems and books.

Still, he can't bring up any secret resentment against her for nearly killing them- he felt the same, that first day, when he'd found the bloody tongue on the deck and had vomited over the side of the ship, sobbing.

Odysseus, his silver-tongued friend, wisest of the Greeks, able to talk his way out of anything, tongueless. An unimaginable cruelty, especially to the favourite of Athena.

Although, that was probably why, wasn't it.

They all stiffen as the door creaks and Athena ducks to walk inside. Someone whimpers. Polites doesn't blame him.

She looks at them with Odysseus' eyes, staring around at them once more with a blank expression.

"The continuation of this quest will ruin your kingdom," She says simply, and Polites barely holds back five different protests that will get them all killed.

Penelope stands up, walking to the front. "I will not abandon my husband." She raises her chin, meeting the Goddesses' gaze without fear. "Not ever."

Athena rolls her eyes. Eurylochus chokes, and Polites has to hold back some hysterical mix of a laugh and bursting into tears. Gods, she acts just like him.

"I did not expect you to," She says dryly. "But it will take years, and you can't expect Ithaca to finance your search for that long without a ruler."

Penelope's expression wavers, voice cracking to a whisper. "Years?"

Athena looks remorseful at least when she nods. "Years," She says kindly. Someone puts their head into their hands, but Polites can't tell who, because his vision is blurring out with tears. "He has been blown to the far eastern shores, where the sands stretch over a land a thousand times the size of Sparta. It will take a year alone for him to make it back to the ocean, and Poseidon will fight to keep him away from you all. And by then-"

She closes her eyes and purses her lips, swaying back like someone has dealt her a physical blow. "By then," she continues, steeling herself back to untouchable Goddess. "He will have been of the wild waters for so long that he will be little more than an animal. You will have to catch him, with nets and boats and ropes- and then find a way to bring him back to normal."

They are silent for a while.

"So be it," Eurylochus says, standing up and placing a hand on Penelope's shoulder. He nods to the Goddess, even though he's close enough that Polites can feel him shaking to do it. "What would you counsel us to do for Ithaca in the meantime, Goddess?"

"Ctimene has an equal claim to the throne, as does Penelope," Athena muses. Polites starts and feels the men murmur. Still, who would argue with-

"How will Ctimene rule, though?" Someone pipes up. Nevermind, then. Clearly, Odysseus took everyone's common sense with him when he was rolled off the side of the ship.

Eurylochus snorts before Athena can answer, turning around with a wry smile. "Odysseus may have won us the Trojan War," he tells the lackwitted man. "But never has he once won a single fucking fight with his sister in all the time I've known them. She is a terrifying woman."

Polites feels a laugh slip from him before he can stop it. "She's your wife."

Eurylochus nods grimly. "And I am scared."

"She is rather... shrill." Athena agrees, mouth curling in distaste. "Still, she and you can rule when Penelope is on the waters and the kingdom will not suffer for it. But you cannot both abandon Ithaca to possible invaders."

Penelope sobs and quickly tries to muffle it with a hand, screwing her eyes closed. Polites puts his hand on hers, trying to be reassuring even though his own chest aches. Years.

They will do it, he knows. But still.

"You will find food to eat on these shores," Athena says, turning around. "Ithaca is twelve days west from here."

"Where are you going?" Telemachus pipes up.

A smile props up on Athena's face, small and lacking joy. Cunning and cruel. She still feels so much like Odysseus. "I was dealt a great insult," She tells the child. "And I must return my reply to it."

When they set out the next morning, all the fish in the waters are floating at the surface, dead.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Difference of Opinions (Part 1)

Fandom: Spider-Man, Spider-Verse, Across the Spider-Verse, Miguel O'Hara, f!Reader Summary: You went against the man you loved and helped Miles escape. Now you must face Miguel's wrath. Word Count: 1821 TW: Angst, Betrayal, Anger, Glitching, Left for Dead, Miguel has a temper Notes: I told myself I wasn't going to get sucked into writing for this movie, but this idea wouldn't stop nagging at my brain so here you go!

Prequel, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Series Masterlist

*Spoilers for Across the Spider-Verse*

As you watched Miles disappear in a flash of the Go Home machine, you couldn’t help but smile. For a moment, you had been afraid that he wasn’t going to make it. That despite everything you, Hobie, and Margo had done to help him, Miguel was going to stop him before he could escape. But he got to go home to try and save his father. He had a chance.

However, the smile slowly faded from your face as Miguel roared and ripped the arm off of the Go Home machine. You had been so focused on getting Miles off of Earth-928 that you hadn’t considered what happened afterwards. This was going to be bad.

The room had filled with other Spider-people who had all been involved in the chase for Miles and they all just stared at Miguel. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Margo’s avatar disappear and you sighed in relief. At least she would escape Miguel’s fury. 

Right now, his focus had turned towards Gwen. As they began yelling back and forth at one another and Miguel dragged her into the Go Home machine, you started to back out of the room as inconspicuously as possible. While part of you wanted to run to Gwen’s aid, she was being sent back to her own universe. It was heartbreaking to watch– especially knowing what was going to happen to her father when she returned –however, she was getting off easy considering her part in getting Miles involved in the Spider-Society in the first place. Things could have been a lot worse for her. As they would probably be for you if you didn’t let Miguel cool down for a while before confronting him.

You had just about made it to the door when you heard a snarl behind you. “And where do you think you’re going?”

Red webs coiled around your arms and legs pinning them to your body and making you fall to the floor. Before you could try to squirm your way out, Miguel yanked hard and you flew backwards into him. He caught your chin with one large hand, his nails sharpening into claws and digging painfully into your skin as he held you off the ground. 

His red eyes flashed dangerously as he roared in your face, “Did you think I wouldn’t see you trying to slink away? You helped him escape! You! Of the hundreds of us in the Spider-Society, you were the last one I ever imagined turning against me.”

“I haven’t turned against you, Miguel. You know I love you too much to ever do that.” With your face still pinned in his grasp, you tried your best to keep your expression calm and non-confrontational. You knew how he got when he was like this and it was better to not get him even more agitated. However, your voice remained firm and unwavering. “But right now, you’re letting your past cloud your judgment and you’re not thinking clearly. I was just trying to–”

“He’s trying to alter a second canon event! We still haven’t dealt with what he did in Mumbattan and you just let him get away to do it again!” He bared his sharp teeth at you as he growled deep in his throat. In all your years together as friends or as lovers, you had never once feared Miguel would hurt you…. until this moment. All reason seemed to have left him and all you saw when you looked at his face was fury and pain. There was no trace of the man you loved before you.

Trying to keep the quiver out of your voice, you calmly said, “You said it yourself. Miles is an anomaly. He was never supposed to be one of us so who’s to say he has to uphold the canon events? From what I can tell, the Peter Parker of that world already lost his captain before he died. So maybe Miles has a chance none of us ever got. Maybe he doesn’t have to bear this loss like the rest of us. Maybe he can change his fate.”

“‘Maybe! Maybe! Maybe’! You risked the lives of an entire universe on maybe!” Miguel’s grip on your face tightened and you mewled slightly as his claws broke skin. “Whether or not he was supposed to be Spider-Man, he is now. And that means he must follow the canon. If he was different than the rest of us, he wouldn’t have already lost his uncle.”

“Or may– possibly becoming the Prowler is what got that Aaron Davis killed, not because he was Miles’s uncle.” You tried to reach up to stroke Miguel’s cheek, to calm some of his anger, but your hands were still pinned to your side by his webs. “Miguel, don’t do this. I’m begging you. Please, let Miles try. Trust that I know what I’m doing.”

Slowly, Miguel’s fury faded from his face until there was nothing left but pain. Pain that you knew you had caused. He lowered you to the floor and loosened his grip on your face though he didn’t release you. Then, as he stared deeply into your eyes, he spoke in an agonized whisper. “I did trust you. I would have gone to the ends of the multiverse and beyond for you. I gave you my heart even after I swore never to open myself up to anyone again but you turned your back on me the first chance you had.”

Tears sprung to your eyes and you squirmed against the webs, desperate to touch him. To hold him and make him feel that your love for him never wavered. “You know that’s not true. I’ve stood by your side from the very beginning. I’ve loved you and helped you build this Society so we could uphold the canon across hundreds of universes. But I just… I just couldn’t stand by this time and not at least give Miles a chance to try and save someone he loves. I’m sorry.”

For just a moment, you thought you saw a glimpse of compassion or love in his gaze but it was quickly replaced by bitter cold indifference. “I’m not.”

His claws slashed through his webbing, freeing your limbs. But before you could move, Miguel grabbed your arm, ripped your portal watch from your wrist, and hurled it against the wall where it shattered into pieces. Still holding your arm, he tossed you across the room. You crashed into the floor and slid another dozen feet or so on your side. And just as you slowed to a stop, you glitched as this unfamiliar universe attacked your cells. 

You felt like your body was simultaneously being compressed and stretched in a hundred directions at once. When the glitch ended, you let out a small whimper but the sound didn’t cull Miguel’s rage any. Even as you lay in a heap on the ground, he tossed a disk in your direction and suddenly a red transparent field surrounded you. 

Unable to believe he was really doing this to you, you called out to him but he ignored your plea. Instead, he turned his back on you and growled, “Jess, Ben, come with me. And somebody catch Spot.”

Jess glanced at his retreating form then back to where you were now confined. “Miguel. You can’t just leave her like this. Without a watch–”

“She made her bed, now she can die in it,” he snapped without turning around. He simply opened a portal and said, “Let’s go.”

Ben fell in behind him, but Jess hesitated, her hand reaching out towards you. But you shook your head. Miguel had judged you and once that happened, no one could change his mind. Jess had too much to lose by trying to help you and despite hating to see her leaving to track Miles down, you knew she was just as trapped now as you were. So, reluctantly, she turned and followed Miguel and Ben into the portal.

Now alone, you pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your face in them. You didn’t regret helping Miles, but you never imagined this would be the consequence. Miguel had a right to feel betrayed yet the fact he would go this far– that he was alright with you slowly glitching out of existence – broke your heart. Miguel had never been a saint but you never imagined he could do this. Not to you. How could his love sour so quickly that he was willing to let you die rather than try to understand why you did what you did? 

No. I won’t accept that.

Miguel was just not thinking clearly after everything that had happened today. Deep down, he still loved you. He had to. Just as you still loved him despite him leaving you to die in this cage. If you could only show him that you were right and Miles was different, then maybe Miguel could forgive you for going against him. And maybe there was still hope for the two of you. Or maybe he would still want you dead. 

Wow, Miguel was right and you did rely heavily on “maybe”.

However, there was just something about this situation that made you believe in those maybes. For years you had protected the multiverse by Miguel’s side and you had never questioned his decisions or a canon event. But something in your gut– in your spider-sense –was telling you this time was different. That Miles really could break from the canon without the same consequences as the others. But you would never know unless you found a way out of this cage!

Suddenly, you remembered how Miles managed to escape the same sort of prison an hour before. You might not have his Venom Blast powers but maybe Miguel presented you with your own way to escape. Spreading your arms and legs out as far as you could, you pressed yourself against the force field so you covered as much area as you possibly could. Then you waited.

About four minutes later, it happened. You glitched again but this time, you were ready for it. Using all the strength you could muster, you fought against the glitch and kept yourself pressed against the field. As your body began to flicker and change, so did the force field. When things finally corrected themselves and you were left moaning on the floor, you opened your eyes to see what was once your cage had been transformed into a pile of random junk from across the multiverse.  

Giving it a slight push, the pile collapsed and you walked out of the remains of your prison. You were free. Now, you just had to find a way off of Earth-928 and back into the multiverse to find Miles before Miguel did. And you thought you had an idea about where to start….

Thank you for reading, liking, commenting, and/or rebloging! I am planning a prequel to this fic showing how Miguel and Reader met and I may also do a sequel fic to this one. If you are interested, please let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! Thanks!

[highvern]

Teach Me VI

Final

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom (Seokmin) x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor, college au

Warnings: angst, pining, crying, alcohol consumption, jealous pouty DK, meddling Seungkwan and Hoshi, eventual smut, dry humping, making out, face fucking, munch DK as always, unprotected sex, cream pie, they're simps for each and its disgusting!, DK wearing a chain that dangles in readers face bc im sick and twisted, kinda choking but not really?

Length: ~7.4k

Note: SURPRISE!! ITS HERE!!!! this series started in OCTOBER which is wild to think about. two months of these two plaguing my day to day and so many amazing readers interacting with the story honestly makes a little emotional for it to end. this is the first series i've ever done and now it's over so soon but there are bigger and better things on the horizon! (goes and cries in the corner) If you notice any errors or typos pls ignore.

This blog is intended for 18+ only! MDNI or you'll be blocked!

read more here

[MONDAY 11:23 AM]

YOU: Home

Mr. Boo: Thank you! Love you!

Mr. Boo: We can have a bff night when I get back

[MONDAY 4:48 PM] 

DOKYEOM: Hope you got home safe

DOKYEOM: I’m sorry, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that.

DOKYEOM: Can we talk this week?

Dokyeom doesn’t leave his room the rest of the weekend. A combination of fear of Seungkwan beating the crap out of him and absolute heartbreak keep him wrapped in the covers. Not even Soonyoung can elicit more than a half-hearted grunt when checking if his roommate is still alive.

The drive back to campus is no different. Staring longingly out the window, Dokyeom stares at his unanswered messages. When he goes to your Instagram he finds your account missing with the sinking realization you blocked him.

Seventy two of the best and subsequent worse hours of his life crumbled your fragile relationship. He thought you returned his feelings. 

After Soonyoung blabled a drunken confession on Dokyeom’s behalf, he worried you’d drive off in the night; swiftly rejecting him. But you wrapped your arms around him and held him as you slept. Kissed him awake in the early morning sun, nothing but a soft smile and presses of lips across his face. It was better than anything Dokyeom hoped for. He thought it meant you liked him back even if you didn’t say it yet.

But then you interrogated him and the hot tub and it all came crashing down. You were trying to let him down easy, buttering him up before giving him a reality check. It’d hurt of course. The tsunami of shame at thinking he had a chance and then adding insult to injury when you called him childish. 

Dokyeom knows he was wrong for his reaction but embarrassment sent him spiraling and he needed to get as far away from you as possible. 

And now that he’d succeed, he doesn't think he can find a way back.

—

Monday and Tuesday are spent suffocating under a mound of blankets, munching on a carton of ice cream, and crying till your head hurts and your throat is sore. The string of texts from Dokyeom remains thoroughly ignored; but each buzz of your phone raises your heart rate to unhealthy levels until you read the notification from some store offering a discount. 

You ignore the string of messages from Dokyeom, tempted more and more to block him as they come through; but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Just like you can’t bring yourself to delete the pictures of you two together peppered throughout your camera roll, or the most recent video that does nothing but make you sick to your stomach.

Tuesday night your roommate returns to campus, cheery and well rested from a weekend with her boyfriend back home. You hide from her friendly questions about your weekend in the bathroom, shrouded in steam and bubbles.

Looking at yourself in the mirror after you're sufficiently pruned and chilled from freeze drops, you notice the traces of Dokyeom still on your skin. 

A tiny maroon bruise is fading to a sick green right under your collar bone. Prodding it with the tip of your finger, you wince at the tenderness of the flesh. 

You hate it. 

Hate how somehow your eyes are thick with a gloss of tears at the sight of a hickey, they way you can’t catch your breath when you realize the shirt you brought in with you is another one of his you lifted over the months.

Dokyeom hadn’t been your boyfriend. You two hadn’t even been casually dating. Over and over again you remind yourself you were just friends who had sex, and you shouldn’t be this torn up over a guy. Dokyeom didn’t like you and that wasn’t something to hold against him. 

But the facts do nothing to stop the knot permanently lodged in your throat.

—

The first time you see Dokyeom post-not-breakup, he’s sitting in one of the rolling chairs at the mahogany table you two claimed for your usual study sessions. 

Blood frozen, heart clenching unbearably, you turn and walk right back out the revolving glass doors, hoping he didn’t see you.

But the echo of quick footsteps behind you say otherwise.

“Hey! Y/N!”

Faltering for a moment, you keep walking as if you hadn’t heard anything. And because the universe has a sick sense of humor, the crossing light turns red just as you approach, leaving you stranded with the one person you didn’t want to see.

You whip around at tap against your arm with such ferocity you nearly stumble.

Dokyeom has the gall to smile at you sheepishly before opening his mouth, “Hey.”

“Hi.” 

“You weren’t in lab yesterday.”

“Nope.” You respond monotonously, glancing behind you at the still red crossing light.

“Did you need notes or—”

“No, I got them already.”

“Oh, well—”

The light turns green, allowing you to race across the road before Dokyeom can finish his thought. The heat of his gaze doesn't leave your back until you turn down the next road leading you home.

—

Your second interaction with Dokyeom is in the same sterile lab your friendship started. You slip inside just before class starts, narrowly avoiding getting locked out by your grumpy instructor. 

Sliding into an open seat near the door, you stare straight ahead as he delves into the topic for this afternoon, pointedly ignoring the pair of eyes watching you from the familiar station at the back of the room.

“Finals are almost upon us people so I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that the lab is not open after hours. Meaning, you should prioritize your time in this room. Now let’s get started.”

The guy you’ve been partnered with is nice enough, willing to follow your lead as you read off the necessary equipment. He even manages to crack a few jokes, though not funny you’re thankful for the distraction.

You learn his name is San, he’s an underclassman and he doesn’t understand anything about the class despite attending every lecture and office hour available. 

When he leans over to copy the results you’ve scratched into your notebook, you hear a crack and shatter behind you. A dozen heads twist towards the source of commotion, finding a red faced Dokyeom staring at you.

“Mr. Lee! May I remind you our lab equipment isn’t cheap!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, shuffling towards the broom hanging on the wall.

You focus on ignoring him the rest of class, which is surprisingly easy with your new partner pestering you with inane questions. 

A lull hits, waiting for the digital scale to spit out a final reading. You managed to pull well ahead of schedule, calling over your instructor to verify your results before collecting your things. 

“So,” San starts, stuffing his own notebook in his bag. “Would you be down to tutor me sometime?”

“Oh, I uh—”

“No pressure! I just saw some of the old quizzes in your folder and thought maybe you could help me out.”

“Sure,” you smile, taking his phone to enter his number. 

Voices from the different stations echo off the blank walls, drowning your conversation out.

“Awesome! My boyfriend took this class last year but did about as well as I’m doing.”

Returning his phone back, you start walking to the door. “Oh, really?” 

“Yeah, he told me to take geology instead but I didn’t listen.” He laughs, stepping forward to hold the heavy wooden door open for you to pass.

You miss the sound of a second beaker breaking as you walk down the hall with your new friend.

—

“Dude, you have got to calm down.” Soonyoung pleads, head hanging off the couch as his legs extend into the air. He swears the increased blood flow makes him smarter.

Dokyeom nearly wears a rut into the carpet from his pacing across the length of their tiny living room. He’s been in a mood since that afternoon, watching his not-girlfriend-possibly-no-longer-friend giggle with some dude that wasn’t him. And then give her number to said dude. In front of him. All while she completely ignored his existence.

“He probably just asked her to study together.”

Jealousy isn’t Dokyeom’s thing. Sure he may whine and pout if he isn’t getting enough attention, but he’s never got the blood boil urge scream like he has right now. And about a girl that won’t even look at him.

Tangling both fists in his hair, Dokyeom tries to calm down. Soonyoung was probably right. You’re a genius at chemistry, you’re slated to officially tutor through the library next semester pending final grades, and the guy Dokyeom swears he’s never seen in class most likely asked you for help. It’s not his place to be jealous.

“Hate to be that guy but you need to get a grip”

It's easier said than done. There's four more weeks of class plus a four hour final and your Seungkwan’s friend. You’re not going to disappear after the semester ends and Dokyeom’s feelings surely aren’t going anywhere given he’s got a constant reminder that you’re the woman he lost his virginity to. 

If he knew inviting you to that party at the beginning of the semester would end up like this, he'd have sat somewhere else the first day of lab.

Soonyoung chokes on his own saliva when Dokyeom collapses on the floor with a reluctant, “You’re right.”

“I am?” Eyes bugging so hard they nearly pop from his head.

“I just have to move on.”

They both silently agree to pretend Dokyeom is capable of that.

—

San and his boyfriend, Jay, turn out to be horrible study partners. You are hardly able to focus from the way your abs hurt from laughter; Jay has a talent for self-deprecating humor.

“You didn’t!” You gasp, ignoring the daggers being glared into you back by other library goers. 

Typically you’d respect the needs of others, but they chose to sit on the first floor; if they needed real quiet they should have sat upstairs where it’s enforced by a graduate librarian with nothing better to do.

Jay nods solemnly, “I threw up on him during our first date. But he,” flinging an accusatory finger at his boyfriend, “insisted we go to some weird food truck so it’s his own fault.”

“You said you liked to try new things!” San defends.

“Not food poisoning!”

Descending into giggles, you feel sorry Seungkwan is missing out on two people he’d get along with. But he canceled at the last minute, leaving you at the large oak table all by your lonesome until you’d run into your classmate, looking for a seat.

From the corner of your eye, you see a familiar someone approaching. White blonde hair and trademark grin, Soonyoung stops at the edge of the table.

“Hey, Y/N” he grins.

Sending him a tightlipped smile you return the greeting.

Soonyoung introduces himself to your tablemates, both just as friendly as he. Thick palpable tension descends into the warm atmosphere and you’re about to rise and get another coffee just to escape it when Soonyoung turns back to you.

“Could I take a look at your results from the last lab? We didn’t get to finish in time.”

The unspoken half of ‘we’ is Dokyeom. 

You hate the flare of curiosity flashing in your head. When you partnered with Dokyeom you always finished on time if not early, even with his joking.

“Ugh, sure.” You agree, digging into your bag for your notebook.

Not waiting for an invitation, Soonyoung slides into the chair next to you, pulling out his own notebook to copy down your answers quickly. But even after collecting the necessary info, he lingers.

“So you’re in lab with us too, right?” He asks San.

“Yeah, but I’m probably taking it again next year even with Y/N’s help.” San smiles.

“And you?” Soonyoung asks Jay.

“No, I took it last year.”

“Glad to see someone can make it out alive! Do you guys mind if I hang out until my friend arrives?”

The friend is definitely Dokyeom but you don’t want to look like a bitch in front of your new acquaintances nor have to explain the mess of your love life to either of them. 

Soonyoung’s self satisfied grin when you flash a tight lipped smile and nod nearly tempts you into strangling him. Why is he choosing to torture you? It’s Dokyeom’s fault no matter how you look at the situation. He tricked you; had you falling for the saccharine persona and ambiguous confessions. Dokyeom rejected you at the cabin for everyone to see, humiliated you, and then had the nerve to act upset when you wouldn’t speak to him.

You try to focus on the worksheet in front of you, a proactive effort to prepare for the final exam still far away. Drowning in extra credit had been an exhaustive effort to get your mind off of your issues but Soonyoung had to ruin it. And now he’s laughing with San and Jay like best friends and it’s all too much. 

Shooting up from your seat, they all stop to stare as shaky hands pack up your materials. “Sorry, I forgot I had a thing. Somewhere else. Bye!” 

Halfway to the door before anyone thinks to question your eagerness to leave, you walk right into another person.

“Shit sorry!” The faceless stranger exclaims as your books and papers go flying.

“No, I should have been watching wher–”

And when you look up, Dokyeom is staring back. 

“Sorry, let me help you.” 

“It's fine!” You snap, scrambling to shove everything into your bag.

You will not cry in the library: not over Dokyeom, not in front of Dokyeom. But once the concrete steps out front greet you the first tear falls and they don’t stop until you fall asleep curled up in your bed.

—

Later that week, in the sanctuary of your dorm, you indulge in contraband alcohol and the hype of your best friend.

“You need to just rip the bandaid off.” Seungkwan announces, arms thrown wide to punctuate his point.

“And how do I do that? I still have class with him!”

“Okay but how much of his stuff is still here?”

“Only like a few things.” you shrug, glancing around the room.

“Oh, really?” Seungkwan asks, throwing himself from his perch on your bed, crossing to the basket full of laundry in front of your closet.  “Because this is a hoodie from his high school, this is the shirt I got him for his birthday a few years ago,” he shuffles around the collection of socks and pants to pull more of Dokyeom’s belongings out. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t wear boxers.”

Seungkwan launched the wad of clothing your way, disappearing into the bathroom in search of more evidence of your ex-friend with benefits.

“You let him keep a toothbrush here?” Seungkwan yells, head popping out with the neon green piece of plastic dangling between his fingers.

It's tossed into the growing pile at the foot of your bed, your rage-fueled focus on the smattering of objects on your desk. 

More cheap wine and outrageous laughter has Seungkwan encouraging you to race across campus and return everything as soon as possible.

Red faced, he steadies you by your arms, “Listen, the sooner you get rid of this stuff the better. You’re like subconsciously holding on to him or whatever.”

Mooney eyed, you nod at your friend’s wisdom, scrambling for a bag.

The tote of Dokyeom’s belongings you’ve accumulated over the months sits heavy on your shoulders; bulging with the assortment of clothes, a spare phone charger, and a book that was severely overdue at the library you’d found under your bed.

Each click of your shoe against the tile floor echoes in the eerie silence as you walk down the hall towards the door of his apartment. The sterile lighting and gray walls are familiar yet alien under the new circumstances you're visiting. 

You won’t be greeted with the smile you’ve grown to miss or the puppy-like excitement that once made you feel special. Both things of the past you hope to forget. No one had your heart fluttering or twisting in knots the way Dokyeom had. But those happy memories are just memories. And the sooner you cut him out, the sooner you can forget them.

Your fiery determination to get over him ignited in the walls of your bedroom had begun to smolder as the chilly wind and movement sobered you up. 

A large part of you hopes it’ll be Soonyoung answering the door, Dokyeom absent for whatever convenient reason as you dumped his belongings and walked away for the last time. Worse case scenario, neither are home and you're left feeling like an idiot, lugging the ridiculously heavy bag back across campus in the freezing wind and rain. 

Worse-er case scenario, Dokyeom is home.

The door to the boys’ apartment is like all the others, but the hot pink “please don’t do coke in our bathroom” doormat stands out. A gift from Jeonghan, if you remember correctly.

A quick rap of knocks announces your presence before you can lose your nerve, stepping back as you wait for it to crack open.

As luck would have it, Dokyeom answers the door.

“Um–” he starts, clearly confused by what he’s seeing.

Shoulders square, back pin straight, you thrust the bag at him. “Here’s your stuff.”

“Oh.” Dokyeom exclaims, still confused, but cradling the tote into his stomach.

“Well, bye.” You turn to leave but stop when he calls you back.

“I can grab your stuff real quick. Since you’re already here.”

It is a horrible idea. Alone with Dokyeom, in his apartment, where the only person to hold you accountable is yourself. But you can be done with this entire mess once you have the hodge podge of items you’ve no doubt accumulated here.

Nodding once, you follow as Dokyeom turns to head towards his bedroom.

Suffocating tension, thick as tar, fills the air. Dokyeom doesn't attempt to replace it with ill timed jokes as he digs in the black dresser in the corner of his room. The bottom left drawer had been long cleaned out of his own clothes, making room for the odds and ends left behind following your rendezvous. 

A sizable pile of clothes lands on his unmade bed, followed by some toiletries you forgot at the cabin in your haste to flee.

Your ears are ringing from the quiet at this point, unable to look at Dokyeom swapping his belongings from the canvas tote with your own. Focusing on your phone, you scroll mindlessly, as Dokyeom works slowly to prolong the torture. He unfolds and refolds all the shirts, lost pairs of pants and shorts, before cramming them into the bag. If you took a second to look at him, you’d see longing glances in your direction with each item he packs away. But you don’t chance it until he approaches you when he’s finished.

“Here,” he says, eyes downcast as he hands you back the full bag.

Lifting it from his hands, you move back to the living room, bee lining for the front door and the sobering cold air outside.

“Wait.”

The smooth metal doorknob is cold against the wrinkles of your palm. All you need to do is twist and it's over. Unlatch the lock, step outside and your relationship with Dokyeom, whatever it may have been, is done. No more crying, no more wondering. Only four more classes and you can leave the mess of the past semester behind you forever.

But you can’t do it. The smallest part of your heart, buried under the weight of anger and sadness, pleads for you to stay. To give Dokyeom one last chance.

You wait for him to say something else, not moving a muscle as you take shallow breaths. Body tense in preparation, you’re afraid you might shake out of your skin. Being alone with Dokyeom was a stupid idea. 

Realizing you're not going to leave, you hear him shuffle closer.

You jump when he speaks again, voice right over your shoulder. “Can we please talk?” 

“What’s there to talk about?” You frown. 

At his responding silence, you chance a glance over your shoulder, met with sad brown eyes. 

“I just—,” he shakes his head, chin tipping towards the floor to examine his socks.

Prompting him again, “What do you want, Dokyeom?”

“You asked me if I liked you… and I do.”

You squash the seed of hope rooting in your chest, afraid that if he tramples it again you’ll never recover. Turning to face him, you cross your arms pensively. His confession should send your heart racing and your cheeks flushing. But why does he sound so sad about it?

Dokyeom scrubs a hand down his face in frustration. “I should have told you sooner but I— I kept waiting for the right time and then that night happened and I thought I messed everything up. But then we started fooling around so I thought ‘there’s no way she likes me.’ You know? 

From where you’re standing, Dokyeom is exactly the kind of guy anyone would go for. Warm as a ray of sunshine, contagious laughter, thoughtful. Excited by life, and brimming with affection for anyone lucky enough to be considered his friend. 

It’s a shame he can’t see himself the way you see him.

“I know all you wanted was to hook up and I was fine with that until you came to the cabin. Soonyoung had to run his mouth, and I thought you were trying to let me down easy in the hot tub so I got embarrassed.”

Biting your lip to stop the rebuttal simmering on the tip of your tongue, you feel the scowl melt off your face, morphing into a questioning gaze.

“You’re like, the coolest person I know. You’re funny and you’re smart and pretty, god you’re so pretty.” he breaths, finally looking at you. “And I feel like every time I get to see you I can’t breathe. And us hooking up made it worse because I’ve liked you since the first day of class when you sat down next to me and smiled at me. I thought I was gonna throw up.” Dokyeom raises his hands in defense as you scoff, quickly clarifying, “In a good way! You just— you make me nervous and stupid and now you hate me.”

He finishes the last part in a whisper, face vulnerable, looking at you helplessly.

“I don’t hate you.” You warble, launching yourself into his arms, tangling your limbs around him to squeeze as close as possible. It’s ungraceful, your head knocking into his chin, his feet scrambling to balance the unexpected shift of weight. But Dokyeom barely hesitates before pulling you into his chest, face buried in your neck while trying to force you into his skin by his arms around your waist.

Two puzzle pieces, carved to fit perfectly together. 

“You don’t?”

Squeezing him tighter, you calm in the thud of his heart and the pine scent of his cologne. You both simply bask in the presence of one another. At a week and a half, this is the longest you’ve gone without the other since you started your arrangement.

Dokyeom presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, sweet as sugar. His lips ghost against your hairline as he starts to speak again. “I’m sorry for the way I acted. I shouldn’t have freaked out on you.”

“I shouldn’t have called you childish.” You apologize, tipping your head back to meet his gaze.

“I mean you were right. I was being a dick.”

“But I wasn’t in any shape to call you out when I was doing the same thing.”

“The same…” Dokyeom echoes, confused.

“If we weren’t so dumb we could have been dating for weeks by now.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” You smile.

“We really are dumb.”

Pure unadulterated joy takes flight on his face. Dokyeom cups your face in his hands, forehead meeting your own as you smile at him, his own dazzling in return.

“Yeah, but at least we have each other.”

The bark of awkward laughter and shaky words are unstoppable as you cower in his arms. 

“So you’re okay with me calling you my girlfriend?”

“You can call me whatever you want.” You sigh, biting your lip at the idea.

“Even my shmoopie poopie?”

Nose scrunching as you laugh at his ridiculousness, you shake your head vigorously in objection. “You can call me whatever you want besides that.”

“Baby cakes?” He asks, peppering a kiss on your cheek.

“No!”

“Honeybuns?” 

Another kiss on the tip of your nose.

“No.”

“What about–”

A firm press to his mouth silences Dokyeom as you hum.

— 

Soonyoung returns to his apartment after another failed date, eager to shoot the shit with his roommate over a few beers and some video games. But when he opens the door to his home, he finds a trail of clothes flung haphazardly across the furniture, leading straight to said roommate's room. 

No fucking way. Soonyoung thinks. 

Then he hears a thud from behind the door, followed by a familiar laugh he hasn’t heard in the apartment in well over two weeks.

No FUCKING way! He huffs, reaching for his phone.

—

Down the street, Seungkwan smirks as the expected ding of a new Venmo notification shrills through the silence of your dorm:

“Kwon Soonyoung paid you $50.00. – HOW DID YOU KNOW? – Your Venmo balance is now $135.00.”

Epilogue:

Finals season rushes forward rapidly. Two days before you’re set to fly back home for winter break, Chem grades are released.

Another pair of matching As to be celebrated in typical fashion but this time you’re Dokyeom’s girlfriend and he’s sweating like it’s his first time all over again. The night you both confessed had been you last night together. Dokyeom insisted you take things slow, his fear of messing up again forcing him to take caution. 

It's sweet. How he wants to take you out, wine and dine you as if a certain video didn’t still exist on both your phones. And you’d enjoyed the full experience too; walks around campus with interlaced fingers, shy glances in class, and girlish giggles as he offered his jacket on a cold night. The innocent good night kisses dropped on your lips in front of your door that have Dokyeom insisting “just one more” for an hour before he finally lets you slip inside your room.

It’d been everything you dreamed of and more.

But you're both tired of make outs that lead nowhere. Of sitting in Dokyeom’s lap at parties and not letting your hands wonder like you’re both dying too. Waking up in his bed and pretending you don’t feel him nudging the curve of your ass as before he hides in the bathroom to take care of his boner; leaving you to stare at the ceiling, fighting the urge to follow him into the shower and lend a helping hand.

Tonight, you’ve reached the boiling point and it’s spilling over.

“‘s okay?” He asks into the curve of your neck, palms gliding up your stomach underneath the soft cream sweater you’d worn to dinner.

Humming as your head lulls against the interior of his front door, the warmth of his mouth and hands making your brain fuzzy. Tonight, everything feels like more. Your nipples peak at the smallest brush of his tongue, back bowing under the swipes of his thumb against your ribs; even when he pressed a chaste kiss to the back of your intertwined fingers on the walk to his apartment ripped the air from your lungs.

Dokyeom feels the nerves of that first night, but you’re acting like the desperate virgin he’d been. Drooling to touch and be touched. For your boyfriend to string you out one last time before you both return home for a few weeks of winter break only to pick right back up in the new year.

Snaking a hand down his front, you palm the half hard length with a firm pressure that pulls his hips forward like a magnet. A strained grunts sings in your ear as Dokyeom rocks firmly in your grip, pressing you into the wall under his torturous grind.

Turning to nudge your nose into his cheek softly, hot kisses dropping across his jaw as you bid him to take off his pants; pushing them down clumsily. You don’t bother with the brass button or rough zipper, blinded by desperation and simply clawing the stiff material downwards in an effort to get beneath.

You manage to trickle to your knees, slipping through Dokyeom’s hold like water. The hard floor biting into your skin as you kneel before him to mouth at the thin fabric of his boxer. Dokyeom’s elbows land against the wall, caging you in as he watches from above; entranced by the shallow dip of your lips over the covered head of his cock and the lash of your tongue where you taste him through the fabric.

Tonight isn’t the night for teasing, so you have his boxers landing atop his jeans around his ankles in a blink. Tongue following the vein bulging on the underside of his cock as your hand returns to allow your thumb to dig into his slit.

Dokyeom whimpers a pathetic “fuck,” as you play with him, eagerly lapping up his shaft before sucking him into your mouth; hand dropping to cup his balls, the other rest on his stomach to hold his own shirt out of the way.

You missed how responsive he is to your touch, melting in the palm of your hand as he chases the warmth of your mouth with his hips. Anyone who walks by the door would undoubtedly hear what’s happening on the other side, the choked whimpers from you and guttural moans from Dokyeom combining into a lewd symphony.

Head hitting the wall behind you with a dull thud, you let Dokyeom take over; humming as each press forward leaves the taste of his cock on your tongue. There’s something degrading in letting him fuck your mouth like this, sandwiched between his hips and the wall as he uses you to get off.

You gasp for breath when he pulls away, tongue sticking out to bid him back but his slender fingers cupping your chin distract you straight into his lips.

Pulling you to your feet, Dokyeom dips his tongue between your lips as he leads you blindly to the couch. His mouth is nothing but taking; stealing your breath away, your sanity. Things you’d happily let him have if it meant he wouldn’t stop. But Dokyeom was a giver too. A slide of his tongue lit a fire under your skin, fanning the desperation bordering on depravity. 

“Fuck me,” you plead, grinding your aching cunt against his thigh. 

Dokyeom responds by pressing into you harder, teeth tearing into your bottom lip as his cock drools against your thigh, staining your jeans.

You're so turned on it hurts, pussy painfully empty and panties drenched from heavy petting. If Dokyeom doesn’t do something soon, you have half a mind to get yourself off without him.

Dokyeom is trying, fighting to not to blow his load on your leg as you whine and arch beneath him. For him. But when you manage to close your fist around his length, giving a firm tug with the twist around the head you know he goes crazy for, it’s all over. Dokyeom’s core tightens as he spills on your sweater, streaks of his cum ruining the fabric as he pants into your mouth. Your tight grip doesn’t falter as you work him through it, teeth bruising his jaw as he paints you with his seed.

When Dokyeom gains sentience again, he winces in shame.

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t— I wouldn’t,” he tries to apologize, but stops when you part your lips to lap at your stained fingers; eyes trained on the pink of your tongue dipping out to swipe against the tips for taste.

Mouth wide as he stares, Dokyeom thinks he might come again without any help as you suck your fingers. His own dip into the pool of cum dimpling across your stomach, lifting to your mouth to replace yours. Dokyeom groans as your eyes never leave his, heated and heavy lidded as lick them clean and swallow his cum.

Dropping his hand to the back of your neck, he angles your head so his tongue can delve into your mouth. It’s messy and disgusting but you like it and that’s all Dokyeom cares about as he works to free you both of your clothes. He’s stark naked easily, shirt gone over the back of the couch in no time. But your clothes require more focus than either of you are capable of when Dokyeom is on top of you.

His feet hit the ground before he rises to stand, dragging you up to roughly undress you. You don’t seem to mind if the way you fist your jeans down is an inclination. Outer layers gone, Dokyeom finally gets a peek at the early Christmas present you’d been hoping to surprise him with.

Lacy maroon panties and a match bra hug your figure, accentuating your shape in the most mouthwater ways. Eyebrows raised to his hairline, Dokyeom heaves at the masterpiece you present him with.

Drops of your flesh peek through the holes in the lace, teasing him with what’s underneath. The high cut sides of your thong dig into your hips, making your legs look impossibly long and highlighting the sway of your thighs. Straining to pull his eyes up further, Dokyeom finds the bottom hem of your bra. Tongue rolling out of his mouth as the cups push your breasts up and together, teasing Dokyeom with ideas of fucking his cock between them as you lick at the tip.

You look like a goddess and Dokyeom is happy to get on his knees to worship every inch.

Dokyeom catches you smirking at his obvious reaction when he finally looks at your face. Stepping into his space, your fingers find purchase in the short hairs at the base of his head. A cold sweat breaks on his brow as you smile like the cat who got the canary.

“Do you like my outfit, Kyeomie?” You ask, tone deceptively sweet.

If he was capable of any thought beyond cataloging the swaths of naked skin and curves, maybe he’d answer more eloquently than grunting like a caveman.

“I picked it for you.”

Dokyeom lets his hands find your hips, squeezing the plush flesh in his palms as you continue to toy with him. His fingers pluck the thin elastic while his mind wanders down the extensive list of things he’s dying to do to you.

“Do you wanna see the whole thing?”

“There’s more?”

Falling to the floor, you dig into the pocket of your jeans for whatever the last piece of your outfit, if you could call it that. Rising again you present him with a thin piece of ribbon and a silver chain, both causing Dokyeom’s face to twist in confusion.

You prompt him to take the scarlet ribbon, a perfect match to the set you’ve donned, allowing Dokyeom to spot the clasp at the ends and the small silver charm dangling in the middle.

A sun is embossed on the front of the circular piece of silver. And engraved on the back is his name.

Having his name around your throat while he fucked you isn’t a kink he knew existed. But now Dokyeom is pretty sure he’ll be haunted by the idea for the rest of his life. The silver chain still in your hands has a similar charm but with a moon. Dokyeom’s vision goes fuzzy and his brain clouds at the assumption your name is on the back to match.

“Will you help me put it on?” You ask innocently, turn around so Dokyeom can slip what he can only describe as a mock collar around your neck.

Dokyeom latches the clasp with shaky hands, the strip of silk pulled taunt around your neck with each breath. When you face him once again, the charm sits in the hollow of your throat, silver winking at him seductively. 

The icy metal of the chain bites into his skin erotically as you raise to clasp it around his neck. Your nose nudges against his jaw, a ghosting open mouth kiss landing on his jugular as the charm teases the muscles of his chest where it dangles.

You land on the couch with a squeak, taken aback by Dokyeom shredding the delicate fabric of your panties with clumsy hands as he struggles to get them off you. Bullying his way between your legs, he apologizes with a heavenly strip of his tongue through your slit.

He eats you like a man starved, nails leaving crescents in the tops of your thighs as he spreads you so wide the muscles in your hips scream in objection. Dokyeom’s tongue dips into your hole, collecting your essence on his tongue before spitting it back on your clit and digging in. The swollen nub slips against the flat of his wet muscle, and when his lips gently close around it he sucks just the way you taught him to you he’s rewarded with a wanton sob.

Whines fly from between your lips at the torturous pleasure, thrashing as Dokyeom uses all his strength to pin you and place. Spots dance along your vision, expanding as two fingers push past your folds to stretch you out. Dokyeom knows your pussy like the back of his hand and he stuffs you just right with his fingers.

All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hold on tightly as you fly over the edge. Racing forward under the heat of Dokyeom’s mouth and harsh thrusts of his fingers till you weep pitifully. You’re floating through space under his attention; mouth open over silent begs not to stop, eyes clenched shut. Every beat of your frantic heart carries satisfaction through tense muscles till you are pliant and boneless.

“Too much,” you whimper, thighs forcing close around his head.

Dokyeom takes it in stride. The combination of your essence and his saliva soaking chin, leaving a damp trail across your body as he kisses his way to your mouth.

His thumb finds the ribbon taunt around your throat, focusing on the piece of metal resting against your skin as you taste yourself on his tongue.

Panting into his mouth, you mewl something vaguely sounding like “want you.”

Luckily, Dokyeom is more than happy to give you whatever you want.

Nodding like a bobble head, he pulls you down into his lap as he kneels on the floor. The head of his cock proddes against your entrance, slipping in just enough for you to take the rest with ease.

The stretch is nothing short of bliss; so deep you can taste him in the back of your throat. Dokyeom fills you perfectly, the small nip of pain from not taking him in the past month only multiplying the satisfaction you feel at finally having him inside you again.

With herculean effort, you rise to allow only a few inches to exit before dropping back down. Hands searching for leverage, you balance on the cushions behind you as you grind into his lap.

Dokyeom doesn’t know where to look, overwhelmed by his options; your face twisted around gasping breaths; or your chest, still clad in your bra, tits bouncing with each movement; or where his cock disappears inside you. 

But the silver heart around your throat seems to snag his focus easily.

Dokyeom isn’t possessive but the way it not so subtly declares you as his makes his cock throb. He’s the only one that gets to have you like this, and you him. The twin pendants remind him you’re his girlfriend and everything beyond slips away as he watches it jerk around with every movement.

Before long, your legs burn from effort, ruining your already unstable motions into nothing more than stuttered ruts. Dokyeom’s hands palming your ass assist in lifting you to the couch, limbs awkwardly sprawled off the edges but he doesn’t slow while your nails scratch deep lines into his shoulders.

“Oh, don’t stop! Fuck, please don’t stop.” You beg, head thrown back into the cushions.

Stopping sounds like the worst idea he’s ever heard. Dokyeom needs this. Gloved snuggly in your heat after so long is the only cure for the constant plague of memories of pestering him day and night. He knows they won’t go away but at least he won’t feel like ripping his skin off every time you're within a fifteen foot radius.

The wet clap of your bodies grows to a crescendo, your orgasm on the horizon and tightening your muscles into a deathgrip on his length. Spots float in Dokyeom’s vision at the squeeze and he drops his mouth to yours to lap up all your high pitched whines.

When he rises again to gasp against his own pleasure, the chain you gifted him dangles right above your lips and a nuclear bomb detonates.

You cum again with Dokyeom’s thumb under the ribbon encircling your neck, a tease of choked breath as he rubs the charm like a lifeline. Voice cracking, earth shatter, mind numb pleasure from the tip of your nose to your pinky toe. 

Dokyeom is babbling over you. Rhythm abandoned as he subjected to the tight squeeze of your worn cunt until that punch to his gut hits. Each rope of cum makes his cock throb as he plows you with a deep thrust, stilling to empty himself inside you.

You're fully crushed into the itchy upholstery as his arms buckle.

“Wow,” you gasp, catching your breath.

What else can you say? A month of no touching culminating into the best sex of your life with your devastating boyfriend while he wears a chain with your name on it.

Dokyeom cackles into your collarbone, chest tickling against yours until he leans back to look at you. 

His hair resembles an electrocuted poodle, his lips are red and swollen, and sweat glosses his skin in the low light. But Dokyeom is glowing with life and happiness and all the things that make the world good.

“I love you.”

Dokyeom responds with a girlish shriek at your impromptu confession. 

“Damn, okay.” You laugh, staring at his bare ass as he runs a lap around the living room stark naked.

“You can’t just— I wanted to say it first!” He pouts before flopping down on top of you.

“Are you serious?” Breathless from his weight, you fail to push him off you as he flails like a fish. “Is that what you’re focusing on?” 

“Yes,” Dokyeom grouches into your cheek. “You’re the first girl I’ve felt this way about and I wanted to…”

He trails off, suddenly embarrassed. Your entire relationship was many of Dokyeom’s firsts. The first person he had sex with, first college girlfriend he told his mom and sister about, and now the first girl to make him truly understand loving another person. It wasn’t something you held over his head, and some of it he didn’t even tell you about but it all tallies up in his mind how unprepared he is for it all. 

“Minnie, look at me.”

You don’t speak again until he finally meets your gaze. 

“I don’t even remember what we were talking about.” You sigh.

Dokyeom doesn’t catch hint, “We were talking about–”

“Nope, can’t seem to recall.” 

Finally, he catches the playful pout and the way your eyes cut back his as you look around the room feigning ignorance. And because he’s Dokyeom and you’re a sucker for anything he does, you can’t stop the smile mirroring his own when softly traces the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[glassartpeasants]

How to Love

Eustass Kid/Trafalgar Law x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, semi-slow burn?, beginnings to chapters are hard </3

A/N: yeah here we are. just wanted to set a light on what the base plan is. Also, this takes place RIGHT after the prologue ends. hopefully, it's good for a first chapter.

music playlist

~~~

Your heart beats harshly against your ribs as the events of only moments ago replay in your mind like a broken record. The images of the two most significant people in your world, your boyfriend and your best friend, betraying you, makes your head spin. It almost feels unreal, like a nightmare instead of reality.

But it wasn’t a dream. It was a harsh reality, a stark contrast to the life you thought you were living.

Instead of waking up next to your boyfriend, you find yourself in a disorienting place: your ex-best friend's ex-boyfriend's car. Random items you managed to grab scattered across the passenger side and on your lap. The smell of Eustass’s cologne, a scent that used to bring comfort, now only added to your heartbreak, still plaguing your nose.

“Thank you, Law. You really didn’t have to.” Despite being almost inaudible, Law still heard you like you were screaming. The tremble in your voice notifies him of his own inability to speak without breaking down.

“It’s fine. Thank you for telling me about (.....)-ya’s infidelity.” The fact you even told him in the first place shocked him. You had known (.....) for years, and she was your best friend, while you only had a class project with him. Given that it was a whole semester-long, you were willing to throw away a friendship just like that. 

“You're a good guy, Law. You don’t deserve to be cheated on. Whether we’re friends or strangers. I would have told you regardless. No one deserves such heartbreak.” Law can see tears slipping down your cheeks out of the corner of his eyes. The fact that you're trying to stay strong after being the one to discover the affair is admirable in a sense. It could also be that you didn’t want him to see you cry. The latter sounds more plausible.

“I'm glad I didn’t delete your number. It would have been awkward if I had tried to catch you at work.” A small, sad chuckle left your lips. The tension in the car was too much, and you needed something to keep your mind distracted so you didn’t start wailing in front of Law.

“That would have been a scene I’m grateful we avoided. I like to keep my private life and work life separate.” 

“I’m the same in a sense. I don’t tell my co-workers much except to recommend shows or movies. I know you're more of a book guy, but have you seen any shows or movies recently?”

“(.....)-ya made me watch a movie the other day. It was a horror movie.”

“Oh. Was it good?”

“No, it was terrible.” You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at Law's cold tone.

“Bad effects, or was it a storyline issue?”

“I could’ve made a better movie with a budget of two dollars.” Even though tears still fall from your eyes against your wishes, Law manages to make you laugh to ease the pain.

“Well, have you read any good books recently?”

“Haven’t had the time.” Law’s admission made your eyes furrow together. You know the medical field could be rough, but there wasn't enough time for him to read?

"The bookworm hasn't read recently? Are you sure you're the real Law?" A small smile tugs at the corner of Law’s lips as he listens to you talk, but even he can only hide the effects of heartbreak for so long.

Whether Law knew it or not, you could see tiny droplets of water gather in his eyes. Seeing him trying to hold it together made it just a bit harder to prevent yourself from breaking down. You grip the seat of his car and try to regulate your breathing. Clenching your teeth together,  you lay your head on the window and look outside. The sudden tap of water hitting the glass makes you jump. You look around and watch as more water droplets start hitting the car. 

“It’s raining. I thought it was supposed to be sunny all day?”

“I thought so, too.” The thick, tense silence rose once again, making it hard to breathe. If there had been enough room, you would have curled yourself up in a ball and cried. But you could do that when you get to...

“Where are we going?”

“My apartment. Just for now.”

“Ah, okay. Do you have any alcohol at your place?”

“Maybe some (.....)-ya left. Why?”

“So we can drink away our sadness.”

“I’m not much of a drinker.” A second silence covers the car.

“So I can drink away our sadness.”

“We’ll see when we get there.”

~~~

Your feet feel heavy as you walk into Law’s apartment. It’s been a while since you’ve been inside it. After the project was finished, you stopped coming over. Law’s busy schedule and your own just didn’t mix. Sometimes, you’d text him to check up on him and ask him how he was doing. He’d take hours or a day to respond, but you never held it against him. He always answered before it had been 48 hours, so it was okay with you.

Looking around his apartment, you see things that hadn’t been there before: some plants, many pictures on the wall, a TV, and some knickknacks you recognize that belong to (.....). The atmosphere was more welcoming than when you first visited Law’s apartment. If an apartment could feel like a hospital waiting room, then that’d be Law’s place before (.....) put her touch on it.

Placing your things near the couch, you take a deep breath as you rub your sternum to try and soothe the pain in your chest. All the pictures of Law and (.....) smiling happily nailed to the walls made your throat go dry. The images of your own apartment clouded your vision as you remembered your own photos with Eustass. Pictures of times when you did matching Halloween costumes, went to concerts together, relaxed at a beach together, or the two of you would just stay home. Every picture held a memory. 

A once cherished memory is now tainted by the image of betrayal. No amount of effort can make that image disappear. Even your happiest memories become blurry when you hear (.....) calling out Eustass's name. It ignites a fiery rage inside you, and seeing (.....)'s face everywhere makes you clench your teeth. You feel like tearing apart every picture of Law and (.....) just to remove her face from your sight. Every bone in your body screams at you to lose control. To destroy everything that reminds you of Eustass and (.....) until it is nothing but microscopic pieces.

But you weren’t home. The home you once had was now lost to time. For now, your ‘home’ depends on whether Law will allow you to stay the night for tonight.

“You can stay the night on the couch for tonight if you want. I have blankets in the closet over there.” You let out an internal breath of relief from Law, answering your question without being asked.

“Thank you, Law. Can I make you dinner or something? Just so I can repay your kindness?” You watch Law lean against the kitchen counter before crossing his arms. His eyes staring out into space.

“I haven’t gone shopping yet this week, so I don’t have much.”

“I’m sure I can craft up something.”

“If you want, then go ahead.” The sound of a ringtone brings a silence to the both of you. You check your phone and see the screen’s black.

“I think it’s yours.” Pulling out his phone from his pocket, you watch Law look at the screen. A frown crosses his face immediately, letting you know the caller. Letting out a heavy sigh, you watch him answer the phone.

“What do you want (.....)-ya?” While you couldn’t understand what she was saying, the tone of her voice was frantic. You could hear sobs coming from the other line. Hearing them pissed you off to hell and back. Didn’t (.....) have a shred of decency? How dare she plead and beg after she committed such an act?

You had to sit on the couch to calm yourself down just so you wouldn’t start screaming at (.....) through the phone. As soon as your body relaxed on the couch, a wave of soreness came over you. It feels as if you’ve been working out for hours on end and only now stopped. Even your eyelids felt heavy as you feel tears starting to form and blur your vision. Trying to breathe normally falls short as you begin to hyperventilate. Your lungs burn as you can feel your throat constricting. It feels like you're swallowing your heart just to keep yourself quiet.

“I meant what I said (.....)-ya. I’m breaking up with you, and that’s final. You can come get your things tomorrow afternoon.” Hearing Law’s voice helped soothe a part of your aching soul. Hearing something other than your own ragged breathing helped calm down the streams of tears that were flowing down your face.

“I’m done talking with you (.....)-ya. Goodbye.” The sound of Law’s calls ending made you rub your face, trying to hide the tears that plagued you seconds ago.

“Your more civil than I would have been. I probably wouldn’t have even picked up her call.” Your voice cracked as you tried to let out a small laugh.

“She was asking me for a ride. Apparently, her and Eustass got in a fight, and he threw her out in the rain.” Scoffing in disbelief, you turn your head to look at Law, hoping he wouldn’t notice your puffy eyes.

“She asked you for a ride after cheating on you? Serves her right, getting thrown in the rain. Hope she gets a cold.” You can see Law’s body tremble and how he bites his lip. His eyes get glassy as he looks at the ceiling.

“Fucking a man.” Even from across the room, you can hear Law whispering to himself. You hated seeing him like this. Watching someone you care about hurt only adds to the pain you feel.

“Hey…do you wanna watch something to get our minds off them?”

“I should go back to work. They probably need me.” You let out a hum, hearing his words. A slight feeling of rejection crosses your mind, but you're quick to shake it off. The last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable. And if he was the type to work away his feelings, who were you to stop him?

“Well, drive safe. It sounds like the rain is hitting harder.” The sound of rain beating against the windows of Law’s apartment was finally acknowledged. Its beat almost matched Law’s own heartbeat as he thought about the phone call only minutes ago.

Hearing (.....)’s voice felt like nails on a chalkboard as she tried to explain what happened. The voice that once calmed his aching heart was now the reason it hurt. It was astonishing how fast his whole world flipped upside down. Earlier today, he couldn’t wait to come home and see (.....) and have her talk to him about her day. But now, instead of (.....) smiling at him, you were sitting on his couch with puffy eyes.

The way he could hear the tremble in your voice and how the light shined against the path of tears left on your face made his own wave of emotions try to surface. Even if he could tell you were trying hard to hold them back, he could see tears collect against your eyelashes. The sight had tears accumulating in his own eyes, making him look up at the ceiling to try and stop them. He didn’t need to show how bad (.....)’s betrayal has affected him. At least not in front of you.

Sure, you guys were going through the same thing together, but it wouldn’t help him or you if he let his own emotions out. It’d just be easier to shove them down, ignore them, and work until the pain left. He’s done it before, so he can do it again. 

“Um, Law?” Looking back down, he sees you standing in front of him. You refuse to meet his eyes as you fiddle with the bottom of your shirt.

“Yeah?”

“Can I hug you?” Law felt his heart skip a beat hearing your request. A part of him told himself no that he’d break down the moment you wrapped your arms around him. Yet, the voice of someone he used to know told him something different.

“Okay.” As soon as the words left his lips, he felt your body smushed up against his. Your arms held him in a tight embrace as the sound of your hushed sniffles made Law finally cave. Wrapping his own arms around you, a sense of comfort filled him. The feeling of being cared for once again was nice yet terrifying. As soon as the feeling would come, it’d leave just as fast.

But for now, he’ll indulge in your hold.

~~~

The blanket that wrapped around you did little to replicate Law’s hug. Sure, you were warm, but it wasn’t the same. It reminded you of how alone you were. You had no family in this city, and your only friends were (.....) and Law, but you wouldn’t count him as an option due to the current predicament. It felt like you were running in circles with every idea that popped into your head. Always leading to a dead end and making you start all over again.

You couldn’t go back home. It’d take you around three to four hours to drive there! Plus, you didn’t leave on a good note with your parents when you left for college. And if their last words to you were anything to go by, they didn’t want you back. You shake your head at the thought of your parents.

“No. No need to drag myself down even more thinking about them.” Slithering your hand out of your blanket cocoon, you grab your phone that was on your right. The black screen stared at you as it showed your reflection. Eyes red from tears earlier and a cut lip from biting on it so hard earlier.

A ding echoes across the empty apartment as the phone's black screen soon turns on. The quick flash makes your eyes burn before squinting to try and get used to the brightness. Once adjusted, you see a message from Law hiding in your notification bar.

-“I need a favor from you.”

-“Sure, what ya need?”

-“(.....)-ya is supposed to be getting her things this morning. I want you to make sure she takes everything and leaves her key in the dish by the door.”

A frown skims across your face as the thought of seeing (.....)’s face makes your stomach churn. It’s only been a day, and you're already forced to see her face? At the same time, Law did allow you to stay the night last night. So, despite your distaste for seeing (.....), you agreed.

-“Will do. Can count on me :)”

-“Thanks.”

-“How’s working going so far?”

-“Fine.”

-“That's good”

The urge to ask him what his plans were with you after you did him this favor ate at your conscience as soon as you sent that last text. Law was really the only one whose place you felt safe enough to sleep at. And he’s the only person you have in the entire city. You didn’t have a license since a lot of things were always within walking distance, so you never had a reason to. 

But now, you were on the complete other side of the city. What used to be a five-minute walk to your job now would take at least thirty minutes. You had no idea where anything was on this side of the city. Sure, you and Law would go grab an energy drink from the gas station when the two of you worked the night away on that old project, but that was two years ago. Who knows? Maybe that gas station doesn’t even exist anymore!

“Do you go here a lot?”

“To buy an energy drink and coffee every now and then.” The sound of small pebbles crunching under your and Law’s shoes goes unnoticed as you walk next to him.

“Okay, so every day then?” A laugh escapes your lips as Law rolls his eyes, yet a small smile plays against his lips.

“This gas station is the only place that sells my favorite one.”

“Which is?”

“Can’t tell you. What if you take it?” A smirk appears on his lips as he puts his hands in his pockets. Scoffing, you place your hand on your chest in fake offense.

“I can’t believe you’d think so lowly of me. Stealing your beloved drink? Only a monster could be so heartless!” Hearing Law let out a chuckle from your words made a heavy feeling of confidence run through your veins. He was always relatively quiet when in class, so it was nice to see him show emotion other than ‘bored.’

“How much farther? I’m dying to know the favorite drink of the future best doctor in the world.” A faint pink tints Law’s skin as he tries to look away from you, hoping you don’t see what your comment did to him.

“You really think so?” Despite trying to copy your playful tone, you can hear his self-doubt and hopefulness that your words were true.

“I know so! No one works harder than you! If anyone says otherwise, tell me and I’ll kick their ass.” Law could feel his palms grow sweaty, and his heart beat a little faster. 

Sure, he’s gotten praise from his teacher, but hearing it come from someone he had just met and barely knew felt a little more sincere? Why, he didn’t know, but he won’t complain.

“Will do.”

KNOCK KNOCK

The sound of light knowing pulls you from your memories. Looking up at the clock, you see it’s nearly three pm. You sigh as you shed the multiple layers of blankets you were snuggled in. The rage and anger from yesterday are still strong in your system, making you clench your fists. You walk towards the door when you hear your fingers popping from the sheer force. Unlocking it, you take a deep breath before fully opening it.

In front of you stood a very unkempt (.....). Her hair was in a messy ponytail, accompanied by red eyes and a red face. Makeup from the night before was still applied to her skin as mascara streaked down her face. Your eyes even caught the barely covered hickeys and bite marks that shined through her concealer.

“(Y-Y/N)?...Why are you…Where’s Law?” Her pitiful voice made you squeeze the doorknob tighter to try and calm yourself.

“He’s at work. Not that it’s any of your business, but he was kind enough to let me spend the night.” Your eyes narrowed at her as you couldn’t help but glare daggers at the marks on her neck. Noticing your stare, (.....) moved her shoulder to cover her neck.

“I see…” You move to let her in and shut the door behind her. She lets out a shaky breath before beginning to take down the multiple pictures hanging along the wall. The sound of sniffles hits your ears as you watch her grab the frames with shaky hands. Listening to her hold back tears made you struggle to hold your own.

How could she have done this? Years of friendship only to throw it away for some dick? Did you mean so little to her? You’ve been with her for everything! Breakups, grandparents passing, getting in trouble together, anything and everything you’ve done for her! If she needed a kidney transplant, you would’ve volunteered right away!

Now, seeing how a friendship can easily be thrown away like trash after years made bitterness fill your heart. If your best friend and boyfriend could betray you without so much of a second thought, what does that say about the strangers all around you?

What does that say about you? Did you do something to deserve this? Was (.....) mad at you and thought fucking your lover would get back at you? There had to be a reason. To be an explanation for the horror you saw yesterday. Maybe after a drink or two after (.....) leaves will calm you down.

~~~

“You got everything?”

“Yeah.” Just as she was about to walk out the door, you remembered that she still hadn't given you the key.

“I need the apartment key.” Putting your hand out, you move your eyes to your hand and back at her.

“I-I don’t have it.” Furrowing your brows, you sigh.

“Don’t bullshit me. I’ve known you for years, and I know when you lie. Now give me the goddamn keys (.....).” You watch (.....) bite her lip before digging into her jacket pocket. The light shined off the key as she gently put it in your hands.

“Can you say goodbye to Bepo for me?” Confusion hit you like a train at her request.

“What the hell are-you know what? Fine. I’ll say bye.”

“Thanks.” Closing the door, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. After locking the door behind her, you placed her old key in the dish Law has near the door for his keys. (.....) request puzzled you as you tried to think of what she was talking about.

“What the hell is a Bepo?”

Just then, a light pitter-patter echos in the apartment. Your heart stops as the sound gets closer. There shouldn’t be anyone else in the apartment but you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you try to move quietly towards the kitchen to grab something to defend yourself.

“Meow!” You stop in your tracks upon hearing that noise. Embarrassment floods your body as you move even closer to the noise. Upon turning the corner, you see a white cat walking in your direction. A big white cat.

“Can’t believe I got spooked by a damn cat. Didn’t even know Law had a cat…a fatass one nonetheless.” Bending down, you move your hand to let the cat smell you. A smile appears on your face when it rubs against you.

“Hmm? What’s this?” Moving the fluff from his neck, you see a collar with a tag. Squinting your eyes, you finally see the name engraved on the tag.

“Ohhh…your Bepo! Well, aren’t you a cutie-pie?” With (.....) 's request finally making sense, you fight to actually fulfill it. With a sigh, you pick up Bepo and hold him gently. 

“Let’s send your dad a selfie. I think he’ll appreciate it.” You go to the couch, pick up your phone, and find the right angle for the picture. When you find the right spot, you smile as Bepo rubs his head against your face.

“Say cheese!”

~~~

It’d been a long day at the hospital. It felt like nothing went right. Sure, he put in his all, but he had to tell people how they were diagnosed with a terminal illness or dealing with dumb co-workers. The only good thing today did for him was keep (.....) out of his head. But now that work was over, the nagging thoughts could finally bother him once more.

Sighing as he unlocked his apartment door, he was immediately hit with the smell of something cooking. Whatever it was, it smelled good, and he was happy that he didn’t have to make anything tonight. When he went to put his keys in the dish designated for them, he saw (.....)’s key lying in the middle. A wave of relief washed over him as he finished taking off his shoes and coat.

“Oh, Law, are you home?” Your voice rings in his ears as he walks further into his apartment. He spots you setting up the table while humming to yourself.

“Yeah, I’m back. Did you make something?”

“Well, you’ve been at work for sixteen hours, so obviously, you should be hungry! Not to mention that you deserved a home-cooked meal after working so hard.” Moving closer to the dinner table, he sees a plate of grilled fish along with a can of what looks to be sparkling water. The smell of his favorite food drew him closer, and he felt a sense of calm filled him. It’d be the second night in a row you made him dinner.

“Where did you get the fish? I don’t remember having any?”

“Oh, after (.....) took her stuff and left, I used GPS to find a store nearby, and there was an organic type of food store only two blocks away! So I went shopping and got things! Except for beverages, so I stopped by the gas station we used to go to and got sparkling water 'cause you don’t drink and no way you’d drink an energy boost at eight pm.” You continued talking, but it was lost on Law’s ears as he stared at the set-up table. The fact you put yourself to go grocery shopping and making him dinner made his sour mood from only moments ago lighten.

“Thank you.” As he moves to wash his hands in the sink, he sees his beloved cat following you and purring.

“I see you’ve met Bepo.” Upon speaking, the cat changed his attention to Law. Bepo begins to meow as he prances towards Law’s feet before rubbing against them. Leaning down, Law gives him a few pets before washing his hands.

“I didn’t even know you had a cat. Did you just get him?”

“No. I’ve had him for almost a year and a half. Why?” He watches you lift your eyebrows and look at Bepo before looking back at Law.

“What?”

“Law. Do you see how big that cat is?” Despite just washing his hands, Law picks up Bepo and holds him in his arms.

“What about it? He’s growing.”

“That cat is obese. He needs a diet.”

“Bepo is perfect the way he is.” You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched him hold Bepo protectively and away from you.

“You can be delusional all you want, but come eat before the food gets cold.” Turning your back, you begin to dish up after washing your hands. You can hear Law rewashing his own before sitting on the opposite side of the table.

As awkward as it may be, the presence of one another brings a slight calm to your new chaotic world.

~~~

TAGLIST: @yuki190 @stachelrose @loraleiii @axcel-lucci @st4rfevrr @rexspersonalhell @nanapurinpurin @elen-alambil @starlightkitten19 @bby-deerling @queenofthekill @chaes-tea @emmaiscool22 @shuujin @augustanna @likeliterallywtf @iraaiitz @cherrybomb5000 @lavenderkaye106 @jabean @wrennyx @jamaicaa-blakee @ashortdork @kat2tired @nerdgeekandeverysweet-blog @getsue @kaptain-rebekah @reigenmagnet @rebeccawinters @keenzinemugstudent @mydearlybeloathed @firefistussy @throne-inmyside @littleleelee @thepurpleempath @yuji4lierrr @whodissbitj @slut-for-buck i hope i got everyone and if i didn't im sorry. I tried writing everyone's names

[sexyandcringe]

Hopeless romantic

Part 1 ◇ Part 2 ◇ Part 3

Warnings: reader drinking (nothing serious though), mention of sexism by reader's parents.

Content: osamu x reader, Angst (to fluff in the next chapters), hurt/comfort

A/n: Guess the Song of Achilles reference! :)

It has been around three weeks since you last saw Osamu that day: you took your chance to scurry away when he went back into the kitchen briefly, leaving your payment to Tsumoto.

The memory of his embrace with another woman still lingered in your mind, but you were able to distract yourself with the hundreds of books on your shelf and the dogs in the shelter.

You took this time to explore other places in the city, from the cozy Indian restaurant near your workplace, where the taste of salty chapati mixed with matar paneer melted in your mouth like butter, to the Mexican fast food spot at the corner of the library, where you savoured the taste of chiles en nogada followed by elotes. Yet,  nothing compared to Osamu’s handmade onigiris, the taste of his love surpassed any food you’ve ever tried.

You don’t believe he didn’t notice your absence, but it wouldn’t bother him that much, you assume, since you’re nothing more than a friendly regular. 

Or at least, you used to be a regular.

Now you are just a girl who spends her days between work and shelter,  occasionally going out to drink with the few friends you have. You know it’s wrong to use alcohol to dull the suffering, but sometimes it’s the only way to remind yourself that life still holds meaning, and that happiness, however fleeting, can be found.

But not going to Osamu’s restaurant has its consequences, like going to the grocery store to buy all the necessities to make a healthy meal and right now you are not exactly having fun doing all this.

When you were a child, your mother always told you to learn how to cook and clean because “someday you’ll have to do it for your future husband”, so, as an act of rebellion, you refused to learn anything other than the most basic dishes of your culture; this act of rebellion ended up biting your ass now because you are tired of eating the same basic things over and over again and you miss Osamu’s food.

You wander through the aisles, searching for the ingredients of the recipe you want to try.

it has been at least half an hour now and you’re meticulously selecting each item, trying to get the correct amount of food. You always tend to buy more than necessary, which ends up with you never using that specific product again and making it go to waste—like the honey syrup you bought for your pre-made pancakes that now sits untouched. You don’t even have time to eat breakfast most of the time. 

You are trying to understand which vegetables are less decayed than others when someone approaches you slowly. 

“That one will go bad in like 2 days.” 

You startle at first, but you freeze completely the second you meet his eyes.

“Hey.” he smiles.

Oh my god oh my god oh my god, please why did he have to come here out of all the grocery stores in the city?

You tried to forget about him like an unwanted pest, avoiding all the places he could be at, you even chose a longer path home so you wouldn’t bump into him while he closed the restaurant. You are old and tired and so is your heart, it can scarcely bear the burden of yet another heartbreak.

You drew in a slow, steadying breath before replying.

“Hi Osamu, long time no see.” you try your best to beam at him, like nothing has touched you, like you don’t want to run away this instant, like you don’t want to scream at him and hurl all these vegetables at him because you hate him for shattering the last remnants of hope you had left in you.

Like you don’t love him at all.

You tend to buy more than necessary, just like you tend to let your feelings grow more than necessary, and then, then they stay there, growing and decaying at the same time, festering with pests and resentment.

“Yeah, because someone hasn’t been coming to my restaurant lately.” He remarked with a petty edge to his voice.

Well, you jumped into that one.

A nervous laugh leaves your lips, “I was just … busy. We got a few more dogs in the shelter and it’s been a little hectic.” your voice is barely a whisper, laden with the weight of your lies.

Coward, liar, ugly.

He nods in quiet understanding, picking a zucchini with a pristine surface, a stark contrast to your rotten life. “Take this one. What’re ya making?.”

You take the vegetable from his hands and place it in your bag, his kindness pressing against the walls you've erected around your fragile heart “I don’t know,” you sigh, “I'm trying to make some vegetarian lasagna, but I already know it's going to suck. I’m a terrible cook.”

“You can always learn, you know.” he counters, a playful smirk gracing his lips “I wasn’t born with a knife in my hand.”

You roll your eyes, pushing your cart forward. “I’m lazy. And I don’t have anyone to teach me in a fun way.”

“I could teach you. Although I'm not sure if I can do it ‘in a fun way’” he signs with his fingers, “you won't die of boredom, I guess?”

“I’m always having fun with you, Osamu.”  And it’s true.

“That’s crazy considering that you haven’t come to meet me in three weeks.”

“Oh god, you’re so petty!” 

“Hell yeah, I am!”

You stare at each other before bursting into loud giggles; his eyes crinkle as he looks at you and you try so hard to ignore the warmth of your cheeks.

(and the warmth in your chest).

You are not used to being loved but you are used to love, and you can’t help wanting to stay around those you love, can’t ignore the tugs of your heartstrings. You know it will only end up in heartache and you are already regretting what’s coming out of your mouth, but you can’t stop it.

“Well? Will you teach me then?”

He smiles, and his face is like the sun.

Reblogs are really appreciated!

Tag: @lees-chaotic-brain