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awrkive · 2 days ago

Note

tlp jk is def the type to absolutely sob when he sees oc walk down the aisle/when he’s trying to propose to her and it maybe just me but I feel like after that one year anniversary he’s like I’m wifing this girl DOWNN cause I feel like he lich has the ring and everyth ready to go he’s waiting he’s prepped 😭

here it is!!! #thee proposal drabble this is literally the cutest thing ever i wish love was real 😖🥹 hope u enj!!!!!!!!!!

summary: in which jungkook proposes and it doesn't start off well

w/c: 3.7k

warning/s: tlp couple is extremely in love that is a warning. they're also cry babies. listen to something by the beatles for the major feels 😔

“Baby,” Jungkook sighs, matching your pace. “Are we really fighting right now?”

“No.” Is your stern response, continuing your quick steps without even bothering to look back at him.

“I guess we are fighting right now.” Jungkook mumbles to himself, taking two big strides so he can finally catch up with you.

You don’t pay him any attention when he slides his arm around your waist while the other holds the bag of large popcorn you bought a while ago, leaning down to kiss the side of your head. Jungkook doesn’t even care about the people passing by around the cinema; they have lives to care about on their own – he can kiss his girlfriend wherever and whenever he wants.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers in your hair, enough for only you to hear.

There’s a crease on your forehead that hasn’t ceased ever since you left the restaurant you had your dinner at. But after a few beats, you let out a sigh.

“I just really wanted to see the movie in IMAX.” you lament, and Jungkook feels bad. He really does.

“I know, baby, I really am sorry,” he apologizes once again. “We can see it tomorro—” but he realizes you both have a full-time shift, so he opts for, “–next week?”

“Jungkook, the screening ends in the next two days.” you say, tone bordering on annoyed now. You reel it back in, gently saying, “I just– I told you to hurry up earlier, but you kept on changing your hair even though– you know what, forget about it. Which cinema were we in, again?”

Jungkook’s nerves begin to kick in, because you look like you’re genuinely upset now. He can tell it by the tone of your voice, the disappointment and the simmering irritation of having to deal with the situation. You don’t get angry often – no scratch that, you don’t get angry at all. However, it does come in withdrawal-like gestures and behavior – like now.

And again, Jungkook really does feel bad for having to do what he did earlier. You weren’t able to purchase tickets online so you had to make do with buying on the actual booth – and because Jungkook took way too long in the comfort room of the restaurant fixing his hair, you arrived at the cinema way too late and the tickets for the last IMAX screening of the night ran out. It left you with no choice but to go with the regular one instead, and needless to say, you’re not at all that happy about that.

Well, shit. Jungkook thinks. This date is not going well at all. The waitress at the restaurant you ate at a while ago openly flirted with him on your table and he was too stunned to do something that you had to tell her off by yourself. That had obviously taken a hit on your mood, and the cinema thing just kind of maybe amplified it and Jungkook thinks he’s beginning to get fucked.

“I’ll make up it up to you, baby–”

“The tickets, Jungkook.”

Jungkook purses his lips into a thin line and gives them to you.

You walk alongside each other quietly, but Jungkook doesn’t let go of your waist while you head towards the dark and quiet hallway, leading to the seats. You don’t pry his hand off so maybe – maybe – that’s a good thing.

But god, this night isn’t going well like he wanted it to be. Suddenly, he’s nervous again. More nervous that he was in the shower awhile ago when you were still prepping for the date back at home. He’s anxious about fucking the whole thing up, and sure, he could trust his track record of never fucking up when it comes to doing big things in his life, but this is different. This will be different. And he’s just so fucking scared that he checks on his watch again.

8:22pm.

Eight minutes before the movie starts in your cinema. And eight minutes more before the–

“Jungkook,” You call him, and he’s just in the middle of pushing the seat down for you when you do so. He looks at you. Confused, you ask, “Do you have somewhere to go?”

“Huh?”

“You keep on looking at your watch. You have been since we were at the restaurant.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen and he’s thankful there’s barely any lights in the hall.

“I– no. No.” He shakes his head, placing down the bag of popcorn in the middle and takes your hand instead, interlocking your fingers. “I’m sorry, did I keep doing that?” He asks consciously.

He’s really fucking this up, and you’re noticing it.

“Yes, it’s bothering me a little,” You shuffle in your seat a little, facing Jungkook. Softly, you ask, “Do you wanna go home? We can ditch the movie. I’m sorry for being a dickhead the whole night. It’s not an excuse but I really wanted to watch this movie in IMAX… but it’s fine. I’m not mad at you. I’m just in a… mood. And I know I’m taking it out on you. I’m sorry. I’m being so unappreciative over here – I know you were supposed to work on your research–”

“Hey,” Jungkook stops you before you can even finish that. “No, baby. This is our date. I don’t wanna go home yet and I’m genuinely really sorry for missing the IMAX screening.” He’d add he didn’t mean to take long in the comfort room earlier… but that would be a lie. He intended to do that so you can both arrive here on time like planned.

You purse your lips into a thin line. “Still… I’m sorry for being a little bitch.”

“Not true. You’re an angel.” Jungkook says and brings your interlocked hands up to kiss your knuckles. “Love you.”

You frown. “Love you too.”

That earns you a hearty chuckle from him. “I love you more.”

“Not that again.” You sigh, turning sideways to look ahead on the screen but not breaking away from his hold.

Jungkook contains his smile as his gaze falls to the big screen as well, nerves crumbling down a little at the exchange. You’re the only person who can make him nervous but the only one who can take it away at the same time.

“Huh,” you utter suddenly in the middle of some trailer playing. “It’s so weird there’s only a few people here.”

At that, Jungkook’s heart rate picks up a bit. “Y-yeah? Well, it’s late at night.”

“Fair.”

“And this movie’s not really new, right? Just an anniversary screening thing.” Jungkook continues to add, as if determined to justify your claim.

You nod. “I guess you’re right.”

“Yep.”

His phone lights up and you’re busy sipping on your drink so Jungkook takes that as an opportunity to check the messages he received.

tae [8:28pm]: starting in 2

tae [8:28pm]: good luck buddy

Jungkook swipes his tongue over his lips – a nervous habit – quickly turning it off and pocketing the device. He places his arm on the arm rest and taps his fingers on the plastic surface anxiously.

It feels like there’s a ticking clock above his head when the trailer finally ends, because he knows the thing should start rolling.

And Jungkook swears he’s prepared for this for so many weeks. Months for the matter. It’s now May and the ring has been bought since February. What was once tucked away from the depths of his closet is now snugged in the pockets of his trouser, deep enough that you couldn’t pinpoint the bulging outline of the box.

Jungkook originally planned for you both to be out of the country when he does it. But things got really hectic at the hospital and while he personally could’ve still taken a leave, you couldn’t. Jungkook brought up the idea of vacationing a little, “Just for a week,”, he said, but then you sadly told him that you couldn’t even if you wanted to and he understood that greatly. He’s in the same line of work, after all.

So, with what seemed to be the nth deliberation with Doyeon, Taehyung, and Nayeon, he ultimately decided on this set-up. You know; trick you into going to the mall with him so you can pass by the cinema and he successfully executes the proposal seamlessly. But obviously, it didn’t go as smoothly as that.

After your dinner, you impulsively decided that you wanted to watch a movie in IMAX, but it starts at exactly as Jungkook’s proposal, and so he had to compromise a little bit; the admittedly poor (but effective) solution coming in the form of intentionally staying a little longer in the comfort room of the restaurant just so you two would be lat.

And Jungkook swears it’s for a good reason! Because everything’s prepped and ready to roll and he can’t have himself waste another perfect opportunity. He remembers almost popping the question three months ago, two months ago, month ago, few weeks ago and heck, even last night – but he’d always get cold feet and think the time wasn’t right.

Right now, though, is different.

And he wants it so badly to be different.

Good thing you settled things quickly. Now that his being late is past you, he can be a little more confident in what he’s about to do.

The next trailer shows up and Jungkook sits upright, knowing what’s coming. He has it memorized, down to each frame. He was the one who edited it, after all, a product of his humble multimedia skills, that is. Jungkook could’ve gone to a professional but he really wanted to do it himself, scared they wouldn’t be able to tell you what he wanted to. And so he did. The gang also told him that it would be better if he did it himself.

And now he’s showing it to you – you, who’s completely clueless beside him.

It starts as a bit of a misdirect. There’s an intro from a famous movie studio, and a scene from a real movie – and so of course you don’t suspect anything, as Jungkook could say from his peripheral view.

Suddenly, the screen goes black. It causes a pregnant pause, stretched to exactly five seconds (again, Jungkook edited that), and then, a familiar clip suddenly plays.

It’s a video of you taken from Jungkook’s camcorder back in med school. First year, around the second semester. You were at Moon’s Printing Shop and you were looking down at your notes when Jungkook, behind the camera, called your name.

You looked up, hair messy from an all-nighter study but Jungkook’s certain the Jungkook behind the scene was still thinking you were the prettiest girl he’s ever seen just like he’s thinking now.

“Who would you wanna be if you were given the chance to be somebody else in your next life?”

You grimace. “Hopefully, still me.”

“So boring,” Jungkook exaggerated, his laughter reverberating in the hall of the theater. “Be serious.”

You looked flustered in the video. “I’m serious. I don’t wanna be somebody else.”

In his seat, Jungkook feels the real you sitting beside him tugging at your enclosed hands together, so he looks at you.

“Jungkook, what is this?” You say, evidently unaware of what’s currently happening, your brows furrowed in that cute confusion.

“Just something I’ve been working on for the past three months.” he smiles, bringing your hands together to his lips again. He just couldn’t stop kissing and touching you even if he tries.

You stare at him with your mouth agape, but you don’t say anything else, your gaze falling back to the screen once again.

“Okay, since you don’t wanna play this game I wanna be Darth Vader.” Jungkook said in the video.

“What? The evil guy from Star Wars?” You frowned. “That’s not… hmm… okay. I guess I wanna be… Spongebob, then.”

“Oh. Wow. Interesting. Alright, Darth Vader’s out. I wanna be Patrick instead.”

“I like that. So we’ll still be bestfriends, right?”

“Yeah. And I still get to stress you out even in the next life.”

That made you laugh, the warm burst of laughter filling the hall which makes Jungkook’s lips curl up as he watches the screen. He can never get tired of it; your smile, your laugh, your face as it lights up. There’s something so incredibly angelic about you he sometimes thinks you’re not human at all. Or maybe just part-human… nonetheless, he feels grateful. For literally everything.

Something in the way she moves…

The video transitions to another reel of you taken by Jungkook while The Beatles’ Something plays in the background.

"Oh my god..." Jungkook hears you gasp beside him, but he doesn't allow himself to break just yet. Instead, he tightens his grip on your hand, feeling your response as you hold on just as firmly.

The screen continues to show candid moments of you from med school. All recorded and taken by Jungkook; the trips you took during that time, that rave party you went to where you got extremely drunk – and when that showed up, you giggled beside him and said, “I told you to delete that.”, which he just laughed at.

Later on, the clips got more recent, you in your lilac dress and Jungkook’s white tux… it was a video of you dancing in Nayeon’s wedding.

“W-wha–… I didn’t – who took that?” You whisper, sounding in awe.

“Nayeon was apparently recording from the stage at that time.” Jungkook says, looking at you and smiling when he sees that you have your eyes glued to the screen.

“This is so…” you trail off, but you don’t really say anything in continuation.

Recent videos of you play, capturing moments from the two years you’ve been together. There’s that clip in Vienna, a few in Florence, Paris, Melbourne... It’s surreal to think that he captured those memories, never imagining they’d be used for something like this.

Something in the way she knows

And all I have to do is think of her

Something in the things she shows me

I don't want to leave her now

You know I believe and how

The song fades to an end and so did the compilation of your videos. The screen shows Jungkook this time instead. He leaned towards the camera, checked the optics, and then smiled a little. From the background, you know it was taken by the wall of his room, near the window because you can see the Sanrio plushie you put on the table beside there. It’s a little out of frame but you can still recognize it.

Then, he spoke.

“Uhm, hi,” He started, and you hold your breath, feeling like you’re on the edge of your seat but not in that anxious way. “I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I’m thinking of doing this video… for my proposal – and ah, my proposal – wait, I really should’ve written a script for this but I wanted this to be natural as much as possible and I’m going off-track so we’ll move on to what I really wanna say,”

You can’t help but laugh at that, and you hear Jungkook joining in with you.

“__, you’re the love of my life. You’re my lover, but you’re my best friend most of all. I look back on the times we’ve spent together – a decade. There was no time in those years that I didn’t thank my lucky stars for knowing and meeting you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I really hope you know how much I love you because no matter how hard I try to put it into action and words, no amount of it would tell you how I truly feel.” A pause. Then he took out something from his pocket. Raising his hand, a red velvet box appeared in the frame. He was about to open it when suddenly, your voice is heard behind the camera.

“Jungkook?”

Jungkook quickly pocketed the box, and the camera shook a little, the angle now distorted, probably due to his panic upon hearing your voice.

“Yes, baby?” The audio played.

“You were doing something?”

“Nah. Just trying out my new camera.” Jungkook said.

“Oh. Lemme see.”

The camera got picked up, and Jungkook switched the camera to you.

In your seat, you nibble on your bottom lip upon seeing your own face this time, a poor attempt to stop your jaw from breaking apart because you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling watching the whole thing.

“Pretty girl.” You hear Jungkook say behind the recorder. His hand came up to caress your face in the video, thumb rubbing over your cheek. “I love you.”

You looked confused at first but then you told him, anyway, “I love you too.”

You leaned down, and the video gets switched out to another one of Jungkook on a different day.

“Sorry the video got interrupted by my gorgeous girlfriend.”

You both laugh at that, and as if on cue, your eyes meet – silently acknowledging that you’re thinking the same thing. In that shared glance, it's clear you both understand how things escalated in that moment, that night – how that kiss turned into something more.

“I just wanted to say that, uh, I love her. No, you, I’m talking to you–” He sighed in the clip, and you can’t help but chuckle. “Anyway. I love you. I love you so much, baby. More than anything else in the world. I feel like I don’t say it enough although Taehyung teases me about convulsing if I can’t say it to you for no longer than five minutes – he’s probably right but that’s not the point. What I wanna say is – again – is that, I love you, __. And I want to spend the rest of my lifetime with you. I wanna grow old with you. Spend every day and every night with you. I want us to wake up together every morning, make our breakfast together, go to work together, do laundry together, our taxes – man, I don’t know. Anything. I just want to do anything and everything with you. Maybe adopt a dog in the near future, if you want to, that is. You’re probably gonna be watching this in the theater by this moment – god I hope I don’t fuck the whole thing up, the gang is gonna be so pissed – but I’ll drop the question for you and I know we already talked about it many times before and two months ago you said you were ready if I was also ready. I couldn’t tell you I’ve been ready since the first week we started dating. But I hope… what you felt two months ago is still what you feel right now…”

Then, the big screen fades to black, and suddenly, a few lights in the hall flicker on, illuminating Jungkook—now on his knees. In his hand is a red velvet box, now open, revealing a stunning ring that’s so beautiful it leaves your jaw slack.

He clears his throat. “__, you’re my best friend. Have been and always will be. You’re my home, my partner. I will love you for as long as you let me and–” Jungkook doesn’t mean it but there’s suddenly a lump in his throat that forms along the way and he has to choke it back, making his voice crack a little bit as he looks into your eyes. “– and I really want to live all my remaining years with you and be yours forever.” He bites his lip, looks up at you with those doe eyes you love so much. Then, the question comes, “Can I be your husband?”

“Jungkook…” You look down at him, your mouth opening and closing, lost for words. You’ve passed the point of holding back tears, and when your eyes meet his—so full of sincerity and revere—you completely break. “Y-yes. Yes! One hundred percent yes,” you manage to say through your sobs, nodding fervently as your vision blurs from the tears streaming down your face.

As soon as you say that, all the lights in the room turn on and there’s a holler from the direction of the projection room that you can’t help but look at.

“Congrats!”

You gasp as you see Doyeon and Nayeon. They’re both waving at you with huge grins on their faces. Genuinely surprised and confused at the same time, you start to look around, and suddenly, you realize that everybody is literally… your family. Taehyung, your dad, your mom, your sister and Seokjin all occupy the front rows, and in front of them are Jungkook’s own family as well. From afar, you see Jungkook’s father coming up to give your dad a hug which he reciprocates as they laugh together.

Your eyes are drawn back to Jungkook.

“Jungkook… they’re all here,” you say, struggling to hold back the onslaught of tears. They won’t stop.

And at this point, Jungkook can’t help it. Not anymore. He sees you crying and he can’t help but do it as well. He sniffs, taking your hand and kissing the back of your palm.

“Yes, baby. Everybody is here.”

“Baby, why are you crying?” You ask him despite yourself.

Jungkook chuckles in between his tears, swiping a hand on his eyes. “I’m just so happy. You make me so happy. Thank you. Thank you for saying yes.”

That makes you cry even more, earning another laugh from Jungkook but it’s filled with endearment. Slowly, he takes your hand and you watch teary-eyed as he finally inserts the ring around your ring finger.

The diamond-encrusted band, with a larger diamond glimmering in the center, fits perfectly around your finger. You stare at it in awe, admiring how gorgeous it looks—trying to recall a time when Jungkook measured your finger to make it fit so flawlessly. But you can't remember, and you don't mind at all, instead looking up at him as he stands to his feet.

"I love you, Jungkook. I really do," you say with all the sincerity in your heart, hoping he knows as much.

"I can't wait to marry you," he replies, his voice full of emotion before he pulls you into his arms and leans down to kiss you gently on the lips. It’s soft and it’s sweet just like the love he’s given you all these years.

A cheer erupts around you, and normally, you'd feel shy about kissing in front of your family. But this time, you don’t feel embarrassed at all.

It’s just you and Jungkook. Bound for a lifetime of unadulterated love.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #fic: tlp #tlp drabbles #p; drabbles

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natalievoncatte · 2 days ago

Text

Lena didn’t mean to overhear. She was at the bar to grab a drink, and was taking it when she noticed Kara and Alex conspiring intently together. It was a private moment, a sister moment, so she shouldn’t have listened, and yet she did anyway.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I don’t want to ruin your wedding.”

“You’re not, kiddo. This isn’t the wedding, this is just a little night out. I’ll be happy if we get through the ceremony without a bridge collapse or an alien invasion or whatever.”

Everyone was having a good time. Kelly was with James, who’d come in from out of town for the ceremony tomorrow. Nia leaned back to Brainy as she made a giggling attempt to hit the dart board. The other guests were milling about, mingling and chatting and getting tipsy.

Lena felt more than a little maudlin, because Kara was hanging with Alex and that left Lena alone in the crowd.

“I’m so happy for you,” Kara was saying, “I just hope I get it myself some day.”

“You’ll find someone, Kara. You’re a beautiful, amazing person- not Supergirl, you.”

Lena pretended not to notice them, nursing her scotch. (A double, neat)

“That’s just it,” Kara choked out. “There is someone, Alex. There already is. She just won’t ever want me like I want her.”

Lena looked up in absolute shock and at the absolutely, perfectly wrong time. Alex’s eyes met hers, her expression as shocked as Lena’s was.

Rushing away from the bar, Lena headed for the pinball machines, not looking back. She downed the rest of her scotch in a coal-hot rush and it only added to the churning in her belly. She swallowed hard and her throat was instantly dry, and she cursed the afterburn of the liquor.

“You heard her.”

Lena wheeled. Alex was standing behind her, a beer in either hand. She handed one to Lena.

“You know what they say about liquor after beer,” said Lena.

“Lena, we both have advanced degrees and we both know that’s bullshit.”

That was good, because Lena downed half the brew in one long pull.

“Jesus,” said Alex. “I was trying to get you to slow down.”

“Yeah, well,” said Lena. “I’m Irish.”

Alex snorted. “You’re deflecting. You heard what she said.”

“Maybe.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “I’ve been through five fucking years of this and I’ve had enough, Lena.”

“Enough of what?”

“Kara’s wrong about your feelings.”

Lena blinked, took another pull. “How do you know she means me?”

Alex looked at her flatly.

“How do I know it’s you? Because she always rescues you. She’s always defended you. She gave you chance after chance and never gave up even when you were at your worst. Kara would die for you. A fifth dimensional imp offered to grant her wish and she didn’t wish for her planet or her parents or to have our dad back. She wished for you. For a second chance.”

“Fifth dimensional what?”

“She reversed time for you, Lena.”

Lena gaped at her.

“What do you mean? She did what?”

“She made me swear never to tell. There was a time when she was too slow, when she was already in the middle of a disaster when you got shot. She’s the only one who remembers that timeline because she fixed it. She flew at superluminal speed and went backwards in time so she could be in two places at once. Apparently a Kryptonian can do that, but she swears it can only be done the one time.”

Lena’s beer was sloshing in the bottle from the shaking of her hands.

“For God’s sake, Lena. I know you’re in love with her. You two had a bad breakup without even dating first. You spent a billion dollars to hang out with her at work. You filled her office with flowers. You let her in, you let her bring you into our family, and you forgave her for doing something really fucked up and you forgave me for pushing her to do it.”

Alex clapped a hand on her shoulder.

“Lena, sack up and go get your girl. She’s at the bar crying into a Shirley Temple because I cut her off. She’s waiting for you.”

Lena stared at her.

“Alex, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything. Go. Get. Her.”

Lena looked at her beer, downed the last of it, and gave Alex a curt nod, marching past her.

Kara was sitting at the bar. She was dressed in skinny jeans and a loose N’Sync t-shirt and leather sandals. She was among friends here and had removed her glasses, her hair in a sloppy ponytail. She looked like she’d rather sulk at home than party.

Lena hopped on the stool next to her.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Lee. Having fun?”

“Not really,” said Lena. She waved the bartender away as he approached to offer her another drink. “I’m kind of down honestly.”

“Weddings always depress me,” said Lena. “Watching other people get all the happiness I’ll never have, basking in their joy for a while. It’s like sitting by the fire in someone else’s house, but eventually you have to go home to your own and it’s empty.”

Kara’s eyes glittered with tears. “Yeah. It does feel like that, doesn’t it?”

Lena rested her hand on Kara’s wrist.

“May I have this dance?”

Kara looked up sharply.

“This isn’t really a dancing kind of place.”

Lena snorted. “I’m a billionaire. I can do what I want.”

She slipped off her stool and offered Kara a hand.

Kelly and Alex had reunited. They were talking animatedly, and Alex pointed at Lena. Suddenly she rushed over to the jukebox as Lena took Kara’s hand and led her to an open space.

The music changes to Wonderful Tonight. Eric Clapton.

Lena was going to kill Alex.

“Huh,” said Kara.

It seemed natural that Kara would lead, being taller and more graceful by far, but Lena put a hand on her hip and rested the other on her shoulder, wondering if Kara could feel her pounding pulse through her palms.

It started with them like middle schoolers, half a foot awkwardly apart, movements jerky, but it quickly changed. Lena didn’t know who bridged that gap first but soon they were pressed body to body, Kara tilted forward to rest her forehead against Lena’s.

Lena went from chastely pressing a guiding hand to Kara’s flank to an arm looped lazily around her hips, hand resting gently against her ass. Her other hand moved from Kara’s shoulder to her neck, thumb grazing Kara’s jawline.

Kara, hesitantly, reciprocated, less dancing with Lena and more swaying with her in a meandering hug. They were so close that Lena’s head swam.

“Do you remember when you first got back from the Phantom Zone?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget,” said Kara. “When I came back and I saw you standing there, I could barely take it. You looked like an angel.”

Lena nodded gently, nudging closer to Kara until she could feel the presence of the other woman’s lips without touching.

“You looked like you wanted to kiss me.”

Kara’s entire body went briefly rigid, then relaxed.

“You could have,” Lena whispered. “You could have and I’d have kissed you back. I swear I can think of a dozen times when you were about to kiss me and I wanted it right then, I wanted it so bad.”

Kara choked back a small sob. “I remember the first time I thought about it. It was when Morgan Edge was framing you and you were so upset, you were crying. You were so sad and beautiful and soft and I wanted to kiss you right then. I wanted to make you feel better any way I could.”

“That would have been a great time.”

Kara laughed. “That would have been a good time. Maybe the best time.”

“The second best time is now.”

Lena looked up. They were holding each other now and Lena knew there were eyes on them, that their friends were watching.

Kara didn’t seem to notice or care. There was a fresh sparkle in her eyes, wide and nervous, her lips trembling in a half smile. She didn’t seem to know what to make of what Lena said, perhaps questioning if she’d heard right.

Poor Kara, her Kara, would find any excuse to steal the happiness from her own hands, to martyr herself, to seek penance for a crime that she never committed. Lena knew her guilt, felt in sing in her own soul like a kind of magnetic resonance.

Lena Luthor did not believe in silly things like soulmates or fate or destined lovers.

But she believed in Kara Danvers, and Kara Danvers kissed her. Lena barely registered it at first, so gentle was the brushing of Kara’s soft lips against her own. She gave Kara no chance to retreat into embarrassment or confusion, kissing her back so intensely that there could be no mistaking the intent. When she did, it was like seeing the stars for the first time, and a pleasant warmth pooled low in the cradle of her hips.

Kissing Kara felt like coming home.

They were staring at each other. Lena drank the sight of Kara staring at her, shocked expression full of an elation, a pure excited joy that magnified her stunning beauty a thousandfold until Lena thought she might die of pure love for this woman that she held in her arms. She went in for another kiss and this time, neither hesitated.

Alex’s voice cut through it all. “Hey, you two. Get a room.”

She was by the jukebox, grinning ear to ear despite Kelly’s scowl. Before either of them could react, Alex dropped a coin in the jukebox and played… the fucking Macarena.

“I don’t know whether to murder her or send her a gift basket,” Lena snapped.

Kara curled a finger around Lena’s chin and their eyes locked.

“Maybe we should get a room,” Kara whispered.

Lena swallowed hard.

“What are we waiting for?”

Kara took her hand, and stuck out her tongue at her sister as they left the bar.

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keeryhours · 21 hours ago

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please don’t go, i love you so - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! Reader

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby daddy! Rafe

Summary:

When you get in a serious accident, Rafe’s true feelings are left staring him in the face.

Requested

Warnings:

Lots of drama and angst, language, serious car accident, medical stuff, talk of TBIs, broken bones, and other injuries

Word Count: 4k

A/N:

Had to do research for this one, but I’m definitely no expert on medical stuff so forgive me if I get something wrong 🥲 Requests are open! BD Rafe requests can be anywhere in the timeline, past, future, smut, fluff, or angst :) Other OBX (or ST) requests also very welcome. I hope you enjoy this one!

let me know if you want to be on any tag lists :)

@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

—

“Iris, please, baby, we’ve got to get your shoes on.”

“No!” the toddler yelled back, running circles around the living room.

You were out of energy. You sat on the couch, your face in your hands, as she continued to run and you tried to clear your head and just breathe.

It had been a long day. A bad day. Iris had been absolutely wild, endless energy and more attitude in her nearly 2 year old self than you thought possible. And it didn’t help that JJ was out with the pogues, so you didn’t even have any backup. It was 7pm, nearing her bedtime, and this had been your whole day. You were over it.

Everything had been a fight with her all day, but the current one was getting her dressed for pickup. It was Rafe’s weekend, and he’d be pulling up any second. You didn’t feel too thrilled about seeing Rafe right now, either.

Things had been complicated with Rafe. You felt like it was a constant back and forth with him, especially recently. Not about co-parenting, never about Iris - you knew you were lucky that the two of you got along so well when it came to parenting your daughter. It was feelings that got tricky.

You didn’t even know how you felt about Rafe yourself. On one hand, you knew you loved him. You’d always love him. But just because you loved him didn’t mean you should be together. You could never forget the toxic situation your relationship had been. Constant fighting, endless tears, trust issues and anger problems.

That’s not even to mention the way he would act around you lately. He was hot and cold. Sometimes he acted all affectionate, kissing and touching you, fucking you, like you’d never broken up in the first place. Other times he was cold and withdrawn. It left you feeling confused, like emotional whiplash, and you were honestly tired of it.

You debated on letting yourself have a quick cry, but quickly wrote that off as you thought of how humiliating it would be to answer the door to Rafe with your face all red and puffy from crying. You took a second to collect yourself, before putting the Mom pants back on.

“Iris Elaine Cameron,” you said sternly, standing from the couch.

The little girl came to a stop, looking up at you with a big grin on her face, totally oblivious to your frustration. The sight of her angelic face softens you immediately, of course. She had her light brown hair up in tiny pigtails, dressed in one of the many outfits Rafe had bought her. Some designer brand dress, not that you had any idea about that or thought it made much sense to dress a toddler in such expensive clothes. She looked cute, though.

You held up her Mary Jane shoes. “Are you gonna let Mommy put your shoes on so Daddy can come pick you up?” you asked her, raising an eyebrow.

Her little face lit up with joy. “Dada! Dada!”

Your heart clenched in your chest. Iris had been a total Daddy’s Girl since day 1 - and Rafe was completely wrapped around her little finger - but sometimes the reminder of him hit you especially hard.

At the promise of seeing her dad soon, Iris happily hopped over to you. You smiled as you lifted her onto your lap and slid her shoes on, buckling them. “There. See? All done,” you said. Iris held her palms out and twisted them, baby sign language for all done, which made you giggle. When you had read the articles and brought it up to Rafe, he had thought teaching her sign language as an infant was dumb. But it actually ended up being extremely helpful since she couldn’t communicate with words yet.

“Book?” she asked you, and you knew exactly what she wanted - her favorite book, Where the Wild Things Are. She’d have you read it 50 times a day if you’d do it. You smiled as you reached over to unzip the diaper bag, pulling the book out. She broke into a huge grin just at the sight of it.

You opened the beloved book and began to read to her, making her giggle with the different voices you’d do for the monsters. Her favorite part was always when you or Rafe would read the line “Oh please don’t go - we’ll eat you up - we love you so!” while attacking her with kisses and tickles. She laughed so hard every time.

When the book was finished, you closed it and slipped it back in the bag to go to her dad’s. She pouted like she was about to throw a fit if you didn’t read it again. “Uh uh. You’re gonna have to wait until Daddy reads it tonight.” You leaned in, rubbing your nose against hers, making her giggle.

You sat Iris down on the ground at the exact time you heard the front door opening. You raised your eyebrows knowingly at Iris, who’s eyes went wide in the direction of the hallway. You both knew perfectly well who it was.

Rafe sauntered into the living room, sunglasses sitting on his face despite the sun already beginning to set. His bored expression was immediately replaced by a huge grin as he saw his daughter.

“Hey, baby girl,” he said, lifting her into his arms as she squealed with delight.

You avoided eye contact with Rafe, busying yourself around the living room as you made sure everything Iris needed that he didn’t already have at his place was packed in her diaper bag. Once you were satisfied, you approached Rafe with the bag, handing it over. He took it from you with a curious expression.

“You’re being weird,” he said, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head.

You ignored him, leaning over to give Iris a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, baby. I’ll see you Sunday night, okay?”

Rafe doesn’t take his eyes off you, like he’s examining you inside and out. “What’s your deal?”

You sighed - you already felt defeated and exhausted going into this encounter, you didn’t really want to do this tonight. “Nothing. Everything is fine.”

But Rafe knows you better than anyone.

He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at you. “This is because I took Briana on another date, isn’t it?”

You felt your skin turn ice cold at the accusation, your defenses building themselves high. “That’s fucking ridiculous.”

The slightest smirk dances across his lips as he sits a wiggling Iris back on the ground, his eyes never leaving yours. “That is why you’re mad.”

You huffed an incredulous laugh as you crossed your arms and looked away from him, watching Iris start dragging everything you’d just cleaned up out of the toy box again, paying no mind to the two of you. “I’m not mad. And if I was, I have much better things to be upset about than who you choose to stick your dick into,” you hissed back at him.

Rafe barked out a laugh, looking up at the ceiling as he did like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. “You are so full of shit.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “Get out, Rafe. I’ll see you Sunday.”

He watched you for a minute longer as you both stood there in silence. Finally he let out a big sigh, running a hand over his face. “You’re such a bitch sometimes, you know that?”

You didn’t acknowledge the comment as he moved to lift Iris into his arms again, her bag slung over his shoulder. You followed him to the front door, ready to shut him out as soon as possible, but as soon as he stepped over the threshold, he turned back to you.

“You know, it’s none of your business who I see. We’re not together. You’re not my girl.”

You just looked at him, his words cutting far deeper and harder than you wanted to admit. “Same goes for you too, Rafe,” you said, thinking of the multiple times Rafe’s temper and jealousy had ruined one of your dates. Half the island was scared to even look at you because of him. It was fucking annoying.

Rafe scoffed. He shook his head one more time with that stupid grin on his face. “I’ll see you Sunday,” he said, and then he was walking off towards his truck.

You didn’t linger. You shut the door as soon as he stepped away, leaning against the wood as you took a deep, shaky breath. God, you hated that arrogant asshole sometimes.

You wallowed in your despair on the couch for a while that night, switching between various shows, none of them catching your interest. Eventually you think what’s the point, and decide to just go to bed early. You might as well take advantage of the sleep without having to worry about getting up early.

—

You hoped you would feel better the next day.

You didn’t.

You made breakfast for you and JJ, not something you typically do when Iris was at Rafe’s, but you felt like pancakes. And JJ certainly wasn’t going to complain.

“You look depressed,” JJ pointed out helpfully through a mouthful of pancake as you sat at the small dining table across from him.

You glared at him over your plate before eating a bite of your own breakfast. JJ held his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay. Touchy subject this morning, I see.”

As much as you loved your twin brother, you were relieved when he picked up his surf board after breakfast and told you he was going out. You didn’t exactly feel up to company.

With JJ gone, you attempted to stay busy around the house, but once everything was cleaned to perfection, you found yourself standing in the silent living room, feeling like you had no idea what to do with yourself. What was wrong with you, you thought. The place was always too quiet without Iris.

You needed a drive to clear your head.

You snatched your keys from the side table and left the house, still dressed in the tank top and athletic shorts you’d been cleaning the house in. You just wanted to drive around the island for a while, you weren’t really going anywhere, so you didn’t care how you looked.

You turned on your favorite sad playlist and sang at the top of your lungs to songs about love and broken hearts and pain. You felt pretty silly, but this was your time, your coping mechanism, and you weren’t going to feel bad about it.

Fuck Rafe Cameron. And not in the way you usually did.

You drove with the windows down, the salty breeze whipping through your hair, cooling your skin. You felt yourself starting to feel lighter.

You didn’t see the truck barreling faster than the speed limit around the corner. No one even had time to lay on the horn. You didn’t see or feel anything except a brief flash of pain and then - nothing.

—

“Wow! That’s beautiful, baby.”

Rafe lifted up the piece of paper covered in crayon scribbles, examining it like it was on display at The Louvre. It was the fifth one he’d been given since he sat on the floor with Iris, crayons and paper spread out all around them. Each piece of art went in a stack to be displayed somewhere in the house.

He watched his daughter as she picked up the green jumbo crayon and began roughly scribbling it across another blank page. The same big smile he always had around Iris was spread across his face. Nothing made him happier than spending time with her.

Rafe was caught off guard by the sound of his phone ringing loudly in his pocket. He sighed as he pulled it out, expecting to see either Topper or Kelce forgetting it was his weekend with Iris. But his eyebrows furrowed as he saw it was JJ calling him. JJ never called or texted him. They only had each other’s numbers in case of emergency.

Rafe felt a jolt of pure fear deep in his chest.

He answered the call, tentatively bringing the phone to his ear. “Maybank?” he answered.

He felt the nausea spread over him like a tidal wave when JJ spoke your name in his panicked voice. It was you. God, something bad had happened to you.

“S-slow down,” Rafe said, holding his shaking hand out in front of him as if JJ could see. Pure panic was spreading and growing through every vein in his body. “What…what happened?”

JJ’s voice was shaking too as he spoke. Rafe could tell he was pacing, probably pulling at his messy blonde hair as he did. “She- it was a truck. Guy was speeding and hit her head-on. Her car is totaled, they…they haven’t even let me see her yet. I don’t even know if she’s okay. Fuck, I shouldn’t have left this morning. Fuck!”

Rafe couldn’t even process JJ blaming himself for something that definitely wasn’t his fault, because he was doing the same thing. He had been a total asshole to you last night. The idea that that could possibly have been the last conversation he’ll ever have with you has him feeling like he’s going to be sick on the floor.

“I’m on my way,” Rafe said simply, and then he was hanging up the call, shoving his phone in his pocket and climbing to his feet.

Sarah was happy to watch Iris as Rafe grabbed his keys and sprinted to his truck, with promises to text her about your condition as soon as he knew anything at all. He probably would have been driving 15 over the speed limit if he wasn’t so disgustingly reminded of the dangers of the road. Instead he drove as fast as he safely could, a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel as he clenched his jaw tightly.

His head was spinning as he rushed into the hospital, looking around the waiting room for any sign of JJ. He didn’t see the blonde boy anywhere. He approached the receptionist desk instead, urgently giving your name to the tired looking receptionist.

“She’s in the Neuro ICU, room 5,” the receptionist said. Rafe felt his breath hitch - the fucking ICU? “We only allow two visitors at a time, and it’s immediate family only,” she continued. “You are…?”

Rafe hesitated. “Uh…I’m her boyfriend,” he said the first thing that came to mind. “But we have a child together. Please.”

The receptionist eyed him for a moment, before nodding, giving him a sympathetic look. She printed a visitor’s badge for him and handed it over. He thinks she said something about wishing you the best, but all he could hear was his own blood rushing in his ears as he mindlessly walked towards the elevators.

The last time Rafe had been in a hospital was for Iris’ birth, decidedly a much happier occasion. He felt out of place and awkward as he walked through the quiet, sterile halls, following signs pointing him where he wanted to go.

When he reached the ICU and approached room 5, he froze. He had never felt so scared in his life, he thought. He didn’t know if he could do this.

But you needed him.

He slid the glass door open, a flash of blonde hair peeking from around the privacy curtain where JJ was sitting. Rafe mustered all the strength he had to walk forward into the room. JJ looked up at him as he entered, but his eyes were immediately drawn to you as his heart shattered in his chest.

He clasped his hands behind his head as he took in the scene in front of him. He was holding off a panic attack as tears welled in his eyes. You were there on the bed, and you looked so utterly broken that it made Rafe feel like he couldn’t breathe. You were hooked up to an IV, about a million monitors mostly over your chest and head, a cast on an arm and one on a leg, a ventilator.

Rafe’s shaky legs practically gave out then, his body collapsing in the empty chair by your bedside. He was terrified to look at you, knowing he was going to start crying harder if he did. He looked at JJ instead, who looked equally wrecked, his eyes red from crying.

JJ gave Rafe the rundown the doctor had just given him. Traumatic brain injury, broken bones in your left arm and leg. You hadn’t regained consciousness at all since the accident. Things were still up in the air, nothing the doctors would say brought Rafe any comfort. They didn’t know about surgery yet, they didn’t know how long it would take you to recover, hell, they couldn’t even say if you’d be the same when you woke up.

When Rafe finally worked up the courage to be close to you, to actually look at you - he didn’t know his heart could break like this. Your normally smooth, perfect skin that he loved to trace his fingertips over because of the way you’d react to his touch, was now covered in deep bruises. Your face - that beautiful face he always adored so much, the one he fell in love with back in junior high - bruised and lacerated. He couldn’t even tell himself you were just peacefully napping. You looked like hell.

The next weeks were long and difficult. Iris stayed with the Cameron’s, and while Rafe spent every second he could drag himself away from your bedside spending it with her, he didn’t leave the hospital much at all. He grew used to sleeping in the world’s most uncomfortable chair.

Your recovery was truly a miracle. You didn’t end up needing brain surgery, but they kept you monitored for weeks. You did suffer a pretty bad TBI, and you had surgery to repair the broken bones in your arm and leg. The ventilator was removed first, which Rafe was the most relieved about, because that terrified him more than anything else.

When you finally woke up, Rafe was the first thing you saw.

The second he noticed your eyes fluttering open, Rafe was bolting up straight in his chair, his hand gently cupping your cheek with a barely-there touch as he whispered your name.

“R…Rafe?” you had croaked, voice raspy and dry from disuse and the ventilator tube being down your throat. Rafe called the nurses immediately, and multiple examinations, a plastic hospital jug of ice water, and some heavy pain meds later, you were feeling��okay.

JJ was there for most of the day like he was every day he didn’t have work. He actually cried when he showed up and saw you awake, which surprised Rafe because he didn’t even seem embarrassed about it. He just embraced you as gently as possible so as not to hurt you, and it was clear you were equally as happy to see him. There was that twin bond, something Rafe found a little weird (especially when the two of you would communicate without even talking) but also…endearing.

Recovery was a long road, and it was a lot of hard work, but the doctors were confident in your ability to return to normal in time. You had to work on your memory, your speech. Physical therapy took up most of your days. But Rafe knew you were strong, and you showed him every day. Even Iris got to visit as often as she could, but you didn’t want her in a hospital for too long so she wouldn’t get sick.

Rafe sat by your side late at night, gently brushing his fingers through your hair as you laid with your eyes closed, enjoying the feeling. Your hospital stay was finally almost over. You’d be coming home tomorrow, staying with the Camerons so you had the help.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him. You were happy, but his behavior was confusing to you at the same time. “You’re being weirdly sweet,” you said with a teasing smile.

Rafe looked away from your eyes. “Yeah…well.”

The two of you sat with that silence for a while. You knew there was plenty he wasn’t saying, and you wondered if he would.

Rafe reached forward and traced a finger along your cheek, over your jaw line. The cuts and bruises on your face were mostly healed now, and you were endlessly grateful when they told you they didn’t expect any lasting scarring. His light touch sent a shiver through your body.

When Rafe finally spoke again, he sounded different than you had ever heard him. His voice was weak, broken. “Don’t do that to me again.”

Your face fell as you looked at him - really looked at him - and saw the pain hidden deep behind his blue eyes. Obviously you knew none of this was your fault, but you felt terrible for what you’d put your loved ones through all the same.

“I’m sorry-“ you began to say, but Rafe shook his head.

“Do you understand that I love you?” he said, his voice choked up as tears welled in those deep eyes. The words hit you like a physical blow, you felt yourself moving back as you looked him in the face. “I don’t give a fuck about Briana, or any other girl on this island compared to you. And it’s not just ‘we were together for a while and you’re the mother of my daughter so I’ll always love you’,” he continued, like the words were spilling out of his mouth faster than he could control. “No, like, I love you.”

He was looking you so intensely in the eyes that it took your breath away. You felt tears in your own eyes, falling down your cheeks before you could do anything about it. “Rafe…” you breathed out, you didn’t know what else to say. You weren’t even sure this wasn’t a dream.

“Maybe we could…maybe we could try again,” he said, the hope audible in his voice. “A…relationship?”

You let out a long shaky exhale. “I…” You searched your brain for the right words to say, searched your chest for how you really felt. “We…it’s never worked, Rafe, we never-“

“Do you love me?”

The question caught you completely off guard. “What?”

“Do you love me?” he repeated simply. “I told you how I felt. I need to know how you really feel.”

You swallowed. “I love you, Rafe,” you said, your voice small. “I’ve always loved you. But it’s still never worked for us.”

Rafe clasped both your smaller hands in his, being gentle with your cast. “I’m serious this time, baby. This is…things are different.” He held intense eye contact with you as he spoke, and you could see the genuine emotion swirling behind his eyes. “I’ve had a taste of what life would be like without you, and I don’t wanna go through that again.”

You had no control whatsoever as the tears started to fall down your face faster, a sob escaping from your throat. Rafe pulled you into the tightest gentle hug he could manage, his large hand combing through your smooth hair as you cried into his chest. He was a little panicked, he didn’t know if he had said something wrong to upset you. He didn’t want to make you sad anymore.

When you pulled back, Rafe wiped the tears from your face. He traced his thumb lightly over your bottom lip. His gaze flicked up to your eyes, back to your mouth, and then he was leaning in to press the softest kiss to your lips. When he broke the kiss and looked into your eyes again, he could see the mix of emotions swirling behind them. He wished he could read what you were thinking.

He grabbed your good hand with his own, intertwining your fingers. “You don’t have to decide anything now. You have plenty else to worry about. Just…think about it for me?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand in yours, which gave him some reassurance. You didn’t know what your decision would be, but you wanted to make sure you made the right one. For you, for Rafe, and for Iris.

“I love you,” you whispered to him.

His lips turned up in a smile. “I love you too.”

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myth1cs · 3 days ago

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That one back Tattoo (Son Chaeyoung x M!Reader)

I swear I'm working on that F!Reader fic. This is smut ... Sorry? (Should I still bother apologizing or...) Word Count: 2,088

Sitting at the bar with my girlfriend Dahyun was something that always made me happy.

"Y/N you're so silly sometimes!"

Dahyun was drunk enough to the point that anything was funny to her. I should have cut her off sooner but seeing her like this was just so cute. "Come on Dahyun lets go home."

"I don't want to go yet Y/N-yah! Can I get another shot?" I giggled at her question. "Come on Dahyun I think you've had a bit too much to drink." I had to pick up Dahyun and carry her back to our apartment. She showed little protest by lightly hitting me on my chest.

"I don't want to leave yet Y/N!"

Having to put up with a drunk Dahyun's protest was something I got used to after a few nights out. Luckily her sleepiness eventually got the best of her and she was sleeping in my arms.

Arriving back at the hotel I went in the elevator to get to our apartment on the third floor. But before the door closed another woman entered the elevator with us.

She was a rather short woman. Her clothes didn't leave much to the imagination. She was showing a lot of ski-

"Are you going to press the button or should I?"

I was quickly pulled out of my thoughts. Must've been staring for too long. "O-oh r-right you can press it first." She nodded at me and clicked on the button for the third floor. "What a coincidence we're on the same floor."

"Really? Well what are the chances of that? You know some people don't think things happen by "coincidence" do you?"

A rather odd question to ask but I guess I'll entertain her thought process. "Well I think some things are meant to happen but I don't think that everything that happens in our life is set by the universe or whatever."

"By the way who's that girl you're carrying."

"She's my girlfriend."

She hummed at my response and the elevator door opened. "Well if you'd like to discuss further you can come to my room at 308."

"Room 308? That's right next to my room 307!" Seriously? What are the chances my and this girl I just met are neighbors?

"Well who knows maybe it's a sign from the universe. By the way I never got your name."

"It's Y/N, and yours?"

"You can call me Chaeyoung. Anyways you better get going carrying your girlfriend must be tiring."

Once she said that she left for her room and I went into my apartment. When I got in I placed Dahyun on the couch and covered her up with a blanket.

I wasn't able to get Chaeyoung out of my mind. She was so attractive her tattoos, small figure, and those lips of hers were such a turn on. No wait what am I thinking?! Dahyun is my girlfriend I shouldn't be thinking of other women like this.

Feeling my cock get hard I went to the bathroom in order to relieve myself. Pulling down my pants and grabbing a hold of my cock I started to work on relieving myself. "Ugh ~ ah ~ Chaeyoung you're such a damn bad influence. You're making me have thoughts of cheating on my girlfriend because of you!"

Eventually I was able to cum and quickly started to work on cleaning up the mess I had just made.

I've been avoiding Chaeyoung for the past few days. Seeing her makes me think of inappropriate thoughts. I can't help but think how warm her pussy must feel. I bet she could suck my dick so well. Agh! Damn it why am I thinking of it again.

I suddenly bumped into someone.

"Shit sorry my bad I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Y/N is that you?"

Looking at the person I bumped into I realized it was Chaeyoung. Shit

"Oh sorry Chaeyoung I have to go-"

Suddenly she grabbed my arm and turned me around so I was facing her. My face was getting warmer and I can only hope she didn't notice.

"Hold on Y/N what's the rush? And why have you been ignoring me for the past few days?"

"Chaeyoung it's complicated."

"Want to talk about it?"

I shouldn't do it. Everything points to me not agreeing with her. I have a loving girlfriend already. No I can't say yes I can't!

But before I could even answer Chaeyoung started to drag me along with her. I wasn't able to get any words out so I just went along with her for the time.

Eventually we arrived at the front of her apartment. She grabbed her keys and unlocked the door. Her room was mostly similar to the one me and Dahyun had except her room was a bit more bare than ours.

She dragged me to her couch and sat me down. Chaeyoung sat next to me and crossed her arms.

"Y/N I don't understand why you've been ignoring me. If you didn't like our first interaction and didn't want to talk to me that's one thing but I feel as if you're purposely going out of your way to ignore me!"

I looked at Chaeyoung in the eyes. Should I tell her? No that's stupid and would be pretty awkward. What would I even say "Yeah the reason I've been ignoring you is because I just get thoughts of cheating on my girlfriend with you."

"I just thought you were a little weird. I didn't want to associate myself with you." A bit rude but I needed Chaeyoung to also get away from me. If she also starts to distance herself from me it would make my life way easier.

"That's a bit rude Y/N. But thank you for telling me even if it does hurt my feelings."

"Yeah, sorry Chaeyoung."

I got up to leave her apartment as silence fell between us. But before I could go she suddenly spoke up.

"Wait before you leave do you at least want to have lunch with me?"

I guess I owe her one. I mean I did say something quite rude to her just now I could at least make up for it by staying over for lunch.

"Sure"

Chaeyoung nodded and got up to go to the kitchen. I couldn't help but stare at her butt as she walked there.

"Do you have any preferences or allergies you want me to be aware of Y/N?"

"No, anything's fine."

She started to cook up something. I sat in silence as I watched her cook. While Chaeyoung was cooking she bent over making her shirt slide up.

I saw her exposed back which had a tattoo. Something about it was interesting to me.

"Why did you get that back tattoo Chaeyoung?"

"Found it interesting. Why, you want to get a closer look Y/N?" She gave me a certain look. If I didn't know any better I would say she's trying to tease me.

My face started to warm up. "Uhm ... kinda."

Chaeyoung started to walk up to me. Her hips swayed in a rhythm that kept me hooked.

She sat down on the couch with her back facing me. She took off her shirt exposing her bra. "Go on Y/N inspect the tattoo to your hearts content."

I felt my whole body get warm.

I put my finger on her back tattoo,I traced the outline. It was quite an interesting design. "What's it called?"

"The birth of evil. You know Y/N I have more tattoos but I'd have to strip for you to see them."

"Well what's stopping you?" I asked more as a joke.

"Absolutely nothing." Chaeyoung turned around facing me before she started stripping off her remaining pieces of clothing. Her body was more attractive than I originally thought. I couldn't focus on her tattoos and was only able to focus on her body.

"Y/N my tattoos aren't on my chest."

"I - uhm - agh." I tried coming up with an excuse but I wasn't able to think of one. My cock was starting to get hard and I tried to quickly hide it before Chaeyoung noticed.

Suddenly she put her hands over mine. "Mmm Y/N I heard you moaning my name the night we met. I'm telling you our meeting was fate."

Chaeyoung grabbed my hand covering my extremely hard cock and removed ir. She let out a coo "It's so big. I wonder how it'll look when it's free."

I started to panic as she started to pull my pants down. I shouldn't even be here when I have Dahyun. But a part of me wants this moment to never end.

My cock sprung out of its constraints and Chaeyoung licked her lips. "My my Y/N a bit eager to cheat on your girlfriend aren't you?" I wasn't able to form words because I knew she was right. I really wanted her.

"Go ahead and kiss me you little play boy."

I latched my lips onto Chaeyoung's perfect lips. They were so soft and perfect for me. Chaeyoung took my shirt off and moved her hands to my chest and pinched my nipples.

"Ouch Chaeng that hurt." I muffled into her lips. Though she didn't listen and only pinched harder.

She started to rub her hands all over my body. "Ah! Ah! Your hands are so perfect!"

I took my lips off of hers and started to move them down to her small breasts. They were a little bit bigger than Dahyun's but not by much. I put my tongue on her nipple and swirled it around and used my other hand to squeeze her other tit.

Chaeyoung moved her hands down to my cock and swirled her thumb on the tip. Some cum started to leak out and it helped her pick up the pace.

"Oh Chaeng your so damn good at this."

"Am I better than your girlfriend?"

Me and Dahyun have never had sex before and I didn't want to admit that I was still a virgin to her.

"Uhm - you're getting there."

Chaeyoung smiled at me "Judging by your long pause I'm guessing you're a virgin. Don't worry I'll be gentle."

She pushed me onto my back and put her mouth around my cock. "Mhm it tastes good. Virgins cocks always taste the best." I felt myself losing control over her words. She was slowly swirling her tongue on my tip and sucked really gently.

I used my hands to push her head down and Chaeyoung took my full length. "Yes just like that Chaeyoung." My cock hit the back of her throat and her muscles tightened around it.

Her saliva coated my whole cock. I started to push her head up and down on my cock roughly. Tears fell down Chaeyoung's eyes as she face fucked me.

Pulling her off my cock she started gasping for air. "Chaeyoung I want to feel your tight pussy on my cock."

"Y/N ... you're so horney! Is your girlfriend that pathetic?"

"Dahyun has never wanted to have sex with me."

"Poor baby Y/N. You deserve to release all of your cum." Chaeyoung got up and aligned her pussy to my cock. She lowered herself engulfing it all in her small tight pussy.

"You're so damn tight Chaeyoung!"

"Now Y/N let me show you what your girlfriend has been depriving you of." Chaeyoung started moving up and down. Her fluids were now all over my cock. I reached for her small and soft butt and started to give them a light squeeze.

Chaeyoung yelped at my sudden movement but went along with it. I started to squeeze harder leaving red marks on her butt. "I'm going to cum inside of you!"

"Yes Y/N fill me up with your thick semen!"

I spanked her ass hard and unloaded a long thick stream of cum inside of her. Chaeyoung's eyes started rolling back. "It's so warm Y/N!"

After 10 seconds the stream stopped and Chaeyoung collapsed on the couch. "Y/N do you believe me now? Our meeting was fate."

"I believe you Chaeng. But we have to keep this under wraps I don't want Dahyun to find out about us."

"Fine by me Y/N my lips are sealed. Just make sure to come visit me every now and then."

I collapsed on her and hugged her naked body and we both fell asleep.

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I don't know if people prefer 1st or 3rd person writing so I'll just alternate between the both of them.

Anyways enjoy Chaeyoung, I'm facing delays so I don't think I'll have something up anytime soon but I'll try to finish the Thanksgiving smut on time.

#kpop smut #smut #girl group smut #twice #twice smut #twice imagines #twice x reader #female idol smut #chaeyoung #chaeyoung smut #dahyun

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almostempty · 3 days ago

Text

FYBF (javier x f!reader)

(javier x f!reader) | wc: 4.8k | other fics |

javier takes you home to prove that he can fuck you better than your boyfriend

this pwp was inspired by me having FYBF stuck in my head and the line "I prolly wouldn't treat you better, but I'd do you better"

tags/warnings: 18+ gratuitous smut, infidelity!, no condom, no editing, no y/n, no plot

🎤 i just wanna say that this one goes out to a special baddie and i hope she likes it when she reads it (happy belated bday @gothcsz this for u)

He can’t take his eyes off of you. Every time the lights flash, illuminating your glowy skin and the fluid roll of your hips to the music, he tries to see everything all at once. Tries to map your body, plan exactly how he’d make you sing for him.

You’re a vision. Feminine and fierce in a way that calls to him. The balance to his masculinity and the tenderness that he wears on his sleeve.

You aren’t alone. Your friends are gorgeous too. The two of them surround you, smiling, twirling, and mirroring your rhythm. The three of you dance like the rest of the room is watching; like the rest of the room doesn’t exist.

You’re a playful trio, a dangerous trio. Grinding against each other. Bouncing between each other easily. Maybe you’re more than friends, he wonders, as you tease each other, tangling limbs, and winding your sweating bodies together. You all have magnetic energy. A gravity. The rest of the room orbits around the three of you.

But, Javier is drawn to you. You’re graceful, yet powerful. Devastatingly sensual. He leans against the bar, shifting his weight on his feet, and wetting his lips. He surveys the rest of the club but always comes back to you. It’s dark, loud, and hot with all of the bodies in the building.

He knows it’s a slim chance–interrupting the three of you–maybe this is your girl’s night out or something. But then, the song changes to something more melodic. You thread your arms over your head, accentuating the lines of your body, exposing your smooth skin and your curves.

You might as well have a spotlight on you like it’s your revenge dance in a romance film.

Javier’s fingers are itching to touch you. He can feel the weight of your tits in his palms, taste the soft spot at the hinge of your jaw on his tongue, and feel the swell of your ass rubbing against —

Yeah, his dick can feel it, too. Twitching in his jeans. Javier tightens the fist at his side and he slams down the last of his drink. Discarding it on the bar without a glance backward. He can’t turn away from you; he refuses to lose sight of you.

Your dress ripples, shining when the light hits you as you shift. It looks like it would be soft and slippery to the touch. Just like the rest of you. As your eyes shut and you sway, he decides you’re a fucking killer. You could take him apart moving just like that—but on his lap. You could end him with a look, fuck, he wants to see for himself.

He’s on the move now. Compelled. You see him, running your eyes over his body. It’s like a rose-colored path pulls him closer with every step. Javier knows it’s his chance to strike.

He’s on you in a second, slipping in front of you with a compliment and asking, like a gentleman, if you’d give him a song. He doesn’t miss the way you run your eyes down his body and back to meet his gaze. You like what you see, baby? It hangs on his tongue and crooked grin.

“Sorry,” you murmur into his ear, not slowing down the roll of your body. “I’ve got a boyfriend.” You grip the back of his head tightly, fingers woven into his hair. As if the strength of your grip is the only thing keeping your lips from finding each other. As if sharing the same breath with your noses nearly brushing each other isn’t intimate.

“A boyfriend,” he repeats, not backing off. The club is dark, loud, and filled with hot, sweaty bodies. But when he dips closer and his lips brush your ear, you can hear every ounce of lust and challenge behind his next words. “If you really want him, why are you apologizing?” His rich voice makes your veins buzz.

“Seems like you’re wanting me,” you retort in a silky voice, “I can’t be what you need.” He runs his wide hands down your sides, wrapping around your waist. It’s all too much, but fuck, you can’t stop. Proving your point, he guides you, and you’re pliant for him. He turns you, pulling your hips towards his until the swell of your ass rubs along the hard line of his cock. “Fuck,” you breathe out, imperceptibly.

“Just once,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, making your skin prickle and your resolve falter. “Just tonight.” You almost laugh, almost scoff, but his hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements like he’s already claimed you. The thrill of it, of how badly he wants you, sends a shiver down your spine.

“Just once,” you repeat, but it doesn’t come out sharp or mocking. It sounds like surrender.

He tilts your head back, making you meet his eyes. His gaze is molten, the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk that’s too knowing. “When you want more, we’ll figure it out,” he says, so confident, so sure, it makes your chest tighten.

The nerve. The arrogance. You should roll your eyes, but instead, you find yourself staring at his lips, imagining how they’d feel.

“You think you can treat me better?” you ask, your voice sharp, deflecting, desperate to push him away before you actually fall into him.

“Nah,” he admits with a small shake of his head, his honesty so casual it catches you off guard. It shouldn’t make you laugh, but it does, softly, a sound that feels dangerously like complicity.

“But I’ll fuck you better,” he adds, dead serious, the weight of his words crashing down on you.

Your breath hitches. Your cunt clenches around nothing, suddenly feeling devastatingly empty. Your body answers him before your mind can catch up. Rubbing against him, searching for more.

Your silence stretches, but it doesn’t feel like victory. It feels like a test. Javier’s smirk deepens as if he already knows how this is going to end. His thumb brushes over your jawline, a featherlight touch that juxtaposes the ferocity in his gaze.

“You know it’s true,” he murmurs, his tone dripping with amusement. “Your boyfriend,” he pauses, letting the word linger like an insult, “doesn’t even know how to make you look like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re thinking about how fast you can get me alone,” he says, cocky and unrelenting. Javier’s fingers slide lower, skimming across your waist. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You don’t. You can’t.

“You think you’re irresistible?” you fire back, your voice sharp, trying to cut through the haze he’s wrapping around you.

“I think you want to find out,” he murmurs, his lips hovering near yours. “I think you’ll let me prove it.”

The heat in your stomach coils tighter. You want to push him away, but your body betrays you, pressing closer instead. His scent—spicy and rich—wraps around you like a trap. The club feels suffocating, the music distant. All you can focus on is him.

“Quit playing,” you mutter, though your voice lacks conviction. “You’re not that good.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression equal parts amused and predatory. “Let me show you.”

Before you can answer, or argue, he grabs your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. His grip is firm but not forceful, the silent question in his eyes daring you to say no.

The rational part of you screams to stop this. But the rest of you? The part that’s been craving something more? That part wants to find out if he really is as good as he claims.

You part from him briefly, giving your friends a flimsy excuse. Then, turning back without a word, you let him lead you out of the club.

The car ride is quiet but electric. His hand stays on your thigh the entire time, the pressure just enough to keep your pulse racing. He doesn’t talk. Doesn’t need to. The smug tilt of his mouth says it all: he knows he’s won.

When you get to his place, he steps aside to let you in first. The door closes with a soft click, sealing the tension between you.

“You want this?” he asks, leaning casually against the wall, like he’s giving you a choice but fully expecting your answer.

You should leave. Go him to your empty apartment. Call your boyfriend. But instead, you turn to Javier, arching a brow. “Your mouth only good for talking?”

His grin sharpens, all teeth and promise. "Oh, I’m gonna ruin you." He pushes off the wall, arms unfolding and drawing you right toward his broad frame. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the strength in his body like a slow-moving tide, pulling you under.

Before you can fire back, he’s on you. His hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him, and a shiver runs through you at the contact. Your body feels like it’s on fire, every inch of you hyperaware of him, of the weight of his hands on your skin, the hardness of him pressing against your stomach.

His lips find your neck first, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your skin, his breath warm and intoxicating. Your pulse quickens. His touch is so deliberate. Knowing. His hands are everywhere—spanning your waist, sliding down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter against him, holding you like he can’t get enough.

You feel the desire flooding through you, the way your body melts into his with such ease. You should stop. You should push him away, tell him you don’t need this. But then his fingers dig into you, and your body responds before your brain can catch up. His grip on you is possessive, like he owns you already. You can’t fight it. You don’t want to fight it.

He walks you backward until you’re leaning against the wall, your heart pounding in your chest. You swallow, trying to steady yourself, but you feel weak. And then, he drops to his knees in front of you and you think you might actually combust.

“You look good up there,” he teases, his voice husky, low. God, it does something to you when he speaks like that. His hands push up your skirt, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to look away. You don’t. You won’t. He pulls your panties down and you’re on fire, aching for him. “But you’re gonna look better after you come for me.”

The words make your cunt throb. Before you can think to respond, his mouth is on you. His tongue glides against you, the first slow, deliberate swipe making your knees buckle. You gasp, an involuntary sound that escapes your lips before you can stop it. Fuck. He works you over, teasing and tasting, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. Every stroke of his tongue feels like a sin, a slow burn that builds in the pit of your stomach.

His grip on your thighs tightens, fingers digging into your flesh, and you realize he’s holding you steady, keeping you in place. His hands feel so sure, so confident, pulling you deeper into him, his lips pressing against you with a hunger that leaves you breathless.

He doesn’t rush. Of course he doesn’t. Javier never rushes. He seems determined to take his time, to savor every moment, like he’s proving a point. You can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, his teasing strokes making you dizzy and needy.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he murmurs against you, the vibration of his voice pulling you in deeper. His breath fans across your skin, setting you alight, as he pulls back just enough to look up at you. Maddeningly confident, lips glistening from how wet he’s had you all night, his smirk is predatory. A warning. A promise.

A sight you know you won’t forget.

“Already forgetting how to talk?”

You steady yourself against the wall, trying to summon some strength, some defiance, but your body is already betraying you. The heat in your core is almost unbearable now, and every flick of his tongue only makes it worse. You bite your lip, your eyes meeting his, willing yourself not to give in completely.

“You think this is enough to ruin me? That you proved anything just by getting on your knees?” you challenge, your voice surprisingly steady, though your pulse is hammering in your ears. You don’t want to admit it, that you’re already close, that you’ll be getting off to the memory of his lips wrapped around your clit for weeks.

His eyes darken, a predatory glint flashing in them. He doesn’t say a word, just grins. Slow, knowing, and dangerous the curve of his lips has you swallowing hard. He presses in closer, his body a wall of heat against yours. “Oh, no,” he says, his voice low and dark with promise. “This is just the beginning.”

You’d roll your eyes at him for being cliche, but he dips his head back down and you know that he’s right. You’re already lost, and it’s too late to turn back now.

His tongue and lips work with an intensity that leaves you breathless. He alternates between broad, sweeping strokes and more focused attention that sends lightning through your veins. The slick heat of his mouth is overwhelming, and every time you think you’ve hit your limit, he finds a new way to drag you closer to the edge.

Your hands find his hair, tangling in the soft strands, holding him to you like you’d collapse if he stopped. “Fuck,” you breathe, your voice breaking as his teeth graze you lightly, just enough to make your hips jerk.

“Easy,” he chides, pulling back just enough to flash that debased smirk. His face is flushed with exertion and the sight alone nearly undoes you. “Stay with me.”

You manage a shaky laugh, tugging at his hair in retaliation. “Still right here,” you bite out, your voice laced with defiance.

His tongue works you in slow, torturous circles. He moans against you, the sound vibrating through your core, and the sheer pleasure of it has you arching into him, chasing the friction he’s so generously giving.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groans, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulls you impossibly closer. “I could stay here all night.”

The thought makes your knees threaten to give out, and he notices, of course he does. His hands shift, one sliding up to steady you.

“Don’t you dare stop,” you whisper, your voice a desperate plea.

He chuckles darkly, the sound muffled against you. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

And true to his word, he doesn’t let up, working you over with a skill and focus that makes you dizzy. Every flick of his tongue, every scrape of his teeth, every hot, open-mouthed kiss drives you higher and higher until you’re trembling. He adds his fingers, increasing the pressure, and multiplying the intensity. He uses them expertly, fucking into you with them and working in tandem with his mouth to flood your senses.

When you hit a peak that makes your muscles spasm, and euphoric waves radiate through you, it’s not quiet. It’s a gasping, desperate sound that echoes in the room, and the satisfaction in his eyes as he watches only makes it ring deeper in your ears.

Before you can catch your breath, he rises to his feet, his lips curling into that same cocky smirk that got you here in the first place. “Told you,” he says, his voice low and rough, like he’s savoring every second.

“Not bad,” you manage, though your voice wavers as you lean back against the wall for support.

“Not bad?” he repeats, his grin turning wolfish. He steps closer, his body pressing against yours.

Javier doesn’t let you recover. He brings you to his bed, stripping clothes off in such a frenzy you don’t get the chance to really admire him. He’s urgent. On a mission. Pulling you on top of him and hooking his hands under your thighs.

“Come here,” he orders, his voice a low, commanding growl. “I’m not done.”

You start to protest, but he’s already moving, guiding you down onto him as he lies back against the mattress. He looks up at you, with clear desire, his hands gripping your hips like he owns you.

“Ride my face,” he murmurs, his voice so dark it’s a weapon. “Don’t get shy now.”

The challenge in his eyes leaves no room for hesitation. You settle over him, your thighs wobbly as his mouth finds you again. This time, there’s nothing gentle about it, he’s relentless. Encouraging you to move, to use him, to drown him underneath you.

The sheer intensity of it makes your head fall back, a strangled moan spilling from your lips. The way he groans against you sends vibrations through your core until you’re barely able to hold yourself upright.

“I’m close,” you gasp, your voice raw and desperate.

That spurs him on. His hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements, and when you finally break, it’s hot, overwhelming, and all-consuming. You collapse forward, panting, as he slowly eases you down from the high, his lips and tongue still working gently, reverently.

When you manage to lift your head, his grin is smug, his lips shining as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “How was that?” he asks, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Am I still all talk?”

You glare weakly at him, but the fire in your chest betrays you. “Shut up,” you mutter, collapsing beside him on the bed.

But Javier isn’t done. He shifts above you, his body covering yours, his weight pinning you down in a way that makes you feel deliciously trapped. His hands roam your skin like he’s memorizing every curve. He presses kisses to your shoulders, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts, murmuring soft, filthy praises between each one.

He notices how sensitive you are and you can hear the delight in his discovery. “You like that,” he declares. You can only hum in agreement as he rolls your nipples between his fingers. He takes his time, testing the ways you respond to his fingers, tongue, and teeth. He’s quick, learning exactly what makes you gasp and whine.

Repeatedly working you up with soft swirls of his tongue over your hard nipples and rough pinches that make you squirm. He uses his teeth sparingly, but with finesse, keeping you on edge.

“God, you’re perfect,” he says, his voice rough with awe.

Your breath stutters, his words striking something deep, but before you can respond, his mouth is on yours. His kiss is a slow burn, deliberate, his tongue darting out to taste yours.

“Not perfect,” you whisper.

Javier lifts his head, his dark eyes piercing. “Wrong,” he purrs, his lips curving into a dangerous smirk. “You’re perfect for me. I’ll make you believe it.”

Without another word, he’s back down between your legs, his mouth finding the sensitive skin at the juncture of your thighs. His tongue is hot and insistent, dragging every ounce of pleasure from you with ruthless efficiency.

He groans against you and your back arches off the mattress, a helpless cry spilling from your lips. “There she is,” Javier murmurs, his voice muffled but dripping with smug satisfaction. “Let me hear it.”

“Please,” you gasp, your hands gripping his hair, holding him to you greedily. He chuckles darkly, the sound reverberating through your body. “Please, what?”

You need him to get over his oral fixation and fuck you already, but you can’t find the words and your hands can’t seem to let go. He’s relentless and tapped into some sort of self-restraint and stamina you couldn’t fathom. You strain your neck, tipping your chin to your chest to watch him work.

You can’t tell if he’s this set on getting you off on his tongue to prove his merit to you, or if it’s more for him at this point. He uses everything. Nose, lips, tongue, chin. Inundating you with all of him. With one wide, heavy hand splayed across your lower stomach, he keeps you in place. His other hand keeps your thigh spread wide for him.

What does ruin you–that you would never admit to him–has nothing to do with his mouth or his hands. It’s when you prop yourself up on your elbows, and you can see his hips rutting slowly into the mattress. It makes your eyes roll back. It confirms how badly he wants you in a way that feels more raw and vulnerable than any words he could say.

That knowledge obliterates you. Stealing your breath, and any control you have over your own muscles. You sink, body rolling and contracting with relief and satisfaction. Javier doesn’t stop. He rides out your high, his tongue and lips coaxing aftershocks that leave you breathless and whimpering.

You relax, your hazy, pleasure-drunk mind is quiet and empty for a moment. He takes advantage of your pause, his fingers stroking over your sensitive skin, making you jolt, gasping his name.

His hand slides between your thighs, fingers slick and knowing as they stroke over the spot that has you gasping, your resolve crumbling with every second. “Javier,” you choke out, louder this time, your back arching off the bed.

“I know,” he murmurs, satisfaction dripping from his voice. The sound sends a thrill through you. He kneels between your legs, his body so broad and overwhelming as his hands grip your hips, positioning you just right. His cock presses against you, teasing, demanding, too much, too soon, yet it feels like the only thing your body craves.

He shifts his hips slightly, and the tip of his cock nudges against your entrance. Your breath hitches. You feel the heat of him, the weight, the promise of how he intends to ruin you.

“Going to make sure you don’t forget me,” he says in a low, gravelly voice, and your body responds to the dominance in his words, buzzing for what’s next. He pushes into you slowly, inch by inch. His eyes never leave yours, dark and intense, watching you as if he can see straight into your soul.

Holy fuck. The stretch is overwhelming but it feels so right, so perfect. Every nerve is on fire, each sensation magnified as he moves deeper. God, he feels good. Sinking in so slowly, you can’t breathe, can’t think. Just the feeling of him inside you, claiming you completely.

“Feel that?” he murmurs, his voice a low growl, the vibrations of his voice reverberating through you. “I want you to remember every second of this. Every inch of me.”

You try to hold on, but it’s impossible. His voice is lethal. The heat of his body against yours, the way his cock fills you completely—it’s all you can do to stay lucid, but you want more. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your head falling back as he reaches the end of you, as deep inside of you as he can get. Your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths.

Javier groans, the sound almost painful. Hungry. His hands grip your hips like he’s holding himself back, the tension in his body taut, coiled, ready to snap. He’s holding back? The thought is enough to make you moan again.

“Perfect for me. Just like I knew you would be.”

The words make your walls clench and flutter around him. He’d use that against you if he wasn’t trying desperately to keep it together now that he knows what it feels like to be inside of you. There’s nowhere to look to steady himself. Your face glows, drunk from the orgasms and his praise, your tits glisten with sweat and his saliva–he slams his eyes shut only to see every detail of you just the same. Another deep breath and he presses on.

His pace is slow at first. Sawing into you with torturous precision. Each thrust designed to make you feel all of him.

It doesn’t stay slow for long. His pace picks up, a steady rhythm that makes you writhe. You want to beg, but you don’t know what it is you need. He gives it to you hard, hips snapping as he grunts from the effort. Knocking all of the guilt you’d been smothering right out of your mind.

His force overwhelms you, destroying you with bliss and a floaty time-warping joy. Altering your future, distantly you know you’ll be forever changed because of him.

He doesn’t stop. Oblivious to the seismic impact he’s having on your pussy and future.

He shifts his position, pulling you upright with effortless strength. Just like in the club as he rolled against you, you fit together so perfectly it’s obscene. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, mindless as he fills you with his cock again, deeper at this new angle. You’re at his mercy. Intoxicated by the way his length tortures every nerve inside of you.

His face is still steeped in concentration and satisfaction, but there’s something else that makes you study his eyes. The more of a mess you are the more his pride swells, but it’s not about proving his point to you. It’s about proving something to himself. A whisper of vulnerability hides behind his words. You’re too out of it to understand what it means. Just aware there’s something more.

“You feel that?” he growls, using his deliciously bruising grip to give you the support to bounce along his cock. His lips brush your ear as you flicker between the sensory overload and the clawing, hot need to come again. “This is what you’ve been missing. What you’ll be thinking about when you’re with him.”

You know he’s right. You can only nod your head, chanting yes in rhythm with his hips snapping into you.

You bury your face in his neck, your breath coming out in short, desperate bursts, the sweet torture of him driving you wild. His hand slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen, sensitive clit and rubbing, and you break again, your body shattering, surrendering to him.

Your nails rake down his back, desperate for release, as you bounce against his slick, toned body.

But he’s not done. On a warpath. If he only gets one night, he’s going to make it a guarantee.

He lays you back down with a shift of his body, his hands sliding under your thighs to lift your hips, angling you perfectly. The new position sends you into another realm, your body is his and all he wants to do is wring out every last ounce of pleasure within you. Over and over again.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice low, rough, and dangerous. You force your eyes open, your gaze meeting his, dark and hungry, and in that moment, you know there’s no turning back.

“I want to see your face when you come for me.”

Each word will be etched into your mind forever. When you dream of him, when you touch yourself, every time you close your eyes.

His thumb presses against your clit again; it’s rapturous. You come undone beneath him, your body trembling violently, your voice hoarse as you call out his name and a string of curses.

He follows seconds later with a broken groan. He buries himself deep, giving himself over to you, his cock pulsing with the same urgency to fill you as your cunt clenches in desperation to milk him dry.

He collapses onto his forearms above you, his breath hot and uneven against your skin as you both come down, the room heavy with the sound of your ragged breathing.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Breathe.”

The affection and tenderness soothe something deep within you, and for a moment, all you can do is bask in the connection and the depth of something you can’t name. Until it shifts.

The haze begins to clear, reality creeps back in.

His laugh is low and dangerous, a sound of pure victory.

Javier shifts beside you, his hand sliding possessively over your hip, but your mind is already racing.

Panic bubbles up in your chest as you sit up, reaching for your clothes. Javier watches you with a satisfied smirk, clearly unbothered by your sudden urgency.

“You don’t want to stay?” he teases, his voice lazy and smug.

You shoot him a sharp look, your hands trembling as you smooth down your dress. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but he sees through you.

“Maybe,” he says, propping himself up on one elbow, his gaze raking over you with dark amusement. “But you’ll still think about me when you see him.”

His words hit like a gut punch, and you bite your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to stop thinking about him.

“See you Monday?” he says, his tone deceptively casual, but the smirk on his face is anything but.

Your stomach flips at the reminder. Monday. At work. Where Javier works. Where your boyfriend works.

General tags in case y'all want some javi smut too 💗:

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar @swankyorange

@itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame @magneticecstasy

@indiegirlunited @syd-djarin @harriedandharassed

@bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld

#javier peña smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #pwp fic #smut smut smut

219 notes · View notes

bunnys-kisses · 3 days ago

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⋆⋅☆max v. with a trans masc partner☆⋅⋆

max verstappen knew what he liked. while he usually put the front as a heterosexual man, he had always been a little more fluid about his sexuality outside of the limelight. he had kissed many men in his life as with women, even those who were neither men nor women. kissing was fun, sex was fun. and he wasn't going to limit himself to one set of tools to get the job down. a cock down the throat could be as delightful as sinking into a sweet pussy.

so it was more of a surprise for you to receive max's advances than it was for him to give them.

you remembered when you grandmother told you that she was concerned about you transitioning because you may "never find love" and you told her that it didn't matter. cars were your love, you didn't need a person to fill that gap. so when you met the three time world champion as the new mechanic for the 2024 season, you honestly didn't think too much about wooing him romantically.

but, max was wooed by you. especially when he saw that your lockscreen of your phone was a picture of your two cats, and when he brought up his cats, you just lit up. max liked that you treated him like he was a person. and you simply said, "mate, i'm pretty certain they don't let robots drive these cars." then slapped him on the back, "but i will make you bleed red if you total my car." then flashed him a smile.

you remembered the first time max kissed you. the dutch grand prix had been a total success and within the quietness of the garage post-race with the trophy max had won near by. he took you by the waist and kissed you. he'd later admit that he wanted to do it right on the track.

"do you kiss all your mechanics like that, verstappen?"

"no, only the ones who allow me to win." you two had spent almost the entire season bitching about red bull. max wondered if or when he eventually jumped teams, if he could take you with him. as he held you in his arms. chest to chest.

you admitted close to his ear, a little insecure, "i hope you know. i've built myself... i was born a girl, but became something more. different." then tried to pull back, fearful of his response. you weren't trying to trick him, you'd rather have it on the table.

but he pulled you back in, his blue eyes on you, "you act like i don't know what transgender people are, mechanic." he said as he leaned you back a little, to get a fuller look at you, "you act like i've never been to bed with one."

"i don't want to be a one night stand." you said, your hands on the front of his polo shirt. his hat long hit the floor in the heat of the kiss. you swallowed, "i won't be a toy, verstappen. i have too much respect for myself."

he chuckled, "that's what i like to hear." he held you around the waist and you kissed once more. he could feel the rise in his blood pressure. while you could've easily done it in the garage, max gave you the address of where he was staying and the lie to tell security.

the mechanics team were in another hotel, but if you wore your red bull branded uniform and had your mechanic's pass then you'd get in easily. they'd never suspect that you'd be intimate with the star of the team. and you did just that. even flashing a smile at security before you headed up to the elevator. they didn't even ask questions, which made your life easier.

you found max's room and he happily brought you in. but once the door was closed behind you. his strong arms were around you. he smiled at you, happy to see you. you carefully touched his face, part of you believed this was a strange dream after too many rum and cokes. but as you felt his facial hair under your hand, this was all painfully real.

"do you want this?" he asked.

you nodded and responded with a question of your own, "do you?"

his smile grew a little more, he leaned in closer to you. you only now realized how blue his eyes were, "since the moment i saw you come to the garage. you were more impressed with the car than with me... i found it endearing." he chuckled.

you held his face with both hands and gazed at him, "yeah, because it's a piece of shit car for a champion. it's like giving the king aluminum instead of gold."

he laughed before he leaned in for a kiss. you held his face close to yourself and you felt something bloom in your gut. eventually you got your worn sneakers kicked off and the jacket of your uniform off. it left you in a white t-shirt and max started to strip as well. you eyed his form and he eyed yours.

you felt his heated gaze linger on your chest for a moment and without thinking you crossed your arms across where your top surgery scars were. it was habit at that point.

max was in just his jeans and socks. he reached for your arms. feeling your warm under his palm as he carefully moved your arms away. he wanted to admire you, all of you.

"must've felt very different after the surgery." he said as he held your wrists, his eyes gazed on the fading scars. he was in no way to judge about scarring. at least yours were for something worthwhile, to change yourself in such a fundamental way, "was it scary?"

you shook your head, "no... i wanted to do everything afterwards. my doctor basically put me on bed rest because i was trying to push myself too hard. what was a four week recovery turned in seven."

he placed his hands on your flat chest and could feel the slight raise of the scars under his palms, "you push yourself too hard."

you swallowed, feeling the heat in your cheeks, "if you want to be the best. you have to do more than your best." your gaze met his. it felt so painfully intimate. this wasn't just sex in a hotel room, this was intimacy. max wanted more than your body, he wanted to know all the nooks of your soul and what inhabited them.

he leaned in once more, "we have that in common." before he kissed you once more. his kiss was sweeter, an assurance that you and your body were nothing to be ashamed of. if anything he admired it, even though he couldn't relate to the feelings you carried. he could at least understand the guts it took to go through it.

to become more than you what was given to you. it endeared you to him as you broke the kiss and continued to get undressed. the more of your bodies exposed to one another, the hotter the room got. even with the air conditioning rattling in the room. you could feel the heat between you two.

max sighed, "i don't have condoms... i can pull out or we can do something else." he explained as he got into the bed with you. both naked. his broad hand grazed across your body.

you responded and placed his hand on your lower abdomen, right before your pussy, "hysterectomy. six months before i started. are you clean though?"

he replied, "yes. been a long time since i've been with someone anyway." he was telling the truth. since you started at the season, everything had become a blur with you and the championship being a central focus.

his pointer finger trailed across the scar for a moment before he took your face in his hands and kissed you once more. you could go on about the shape of your face, but in his hands it felt very small. you hadn't realized that max verstappen had paws instead of hands. the thought made you giggle a little into the kiss.

he pulled away and looked at you before he laid you out on your back. he asked with a small smile, "what are you laughing about?"

you looked up at him and said, "didn't realized that formula one drivers had such big hands. every seen them up close like this before." then yelped a little when max grabbed you by the hips and pushed himself up against you.

he curved his back over you and maintained eye contact, those blue eyes were swimming with lust, "well. it's good you haven't seen others this close up. i might get a little jealous."

you looked away for a moment with a stupid grin on your face, "okay, flirt. why don't we get to it before i melt into this bed." then a soft moan left your lips as he rubbed his cock up against your wet cunt.

he admired you for a moment, hoping the image of your naked body stayed with him for weeks to come. you looked masculine. he wasn't going to say "technically" it's not having sex with a man. you were a man just as much as he was if not more. you had to create your manhood and you made it to perfection.

"i want you." you said softly.

he leaned forward and kissed you gently on the lips before he eased his cock into you. he replied with an equal softness, "i want you too, mechanic." the nickname made your ears hot as he moved against you. he thrusts were gently but gained a steady momentum.

you held onto the covers under your back and let him move against you. once you got a hold of his rhythm, you were able to meet his movements as well. the kisses you two shared grew hot as max planted both hands on either side of you and moved.

you two were moving against one another, locked in a heated kiss. the bed shifted slightly under your movements. max was thankful that were was not a bed on the opposite side of the wall. and that this place had enough insulation to keep your noises muffled.

the last thing he wanted was your integrity to come into question. that you only got to where you were because of your seductive ways. the noises between you two were soft. there was no need to rush, the race was over and tomorrow you'd be on the flight to the next one.

he took your hands and held them by your head, which kept you two close but also allowed him to keep you pinned under him. when you broke the kiss, you rested your forehead against his. the noises were harder to keep under wraps the more you moved. the pleasure felt like fireworks in your brain.

you moaned a little bit before you said, "i was thinking something stupid."

max chuckled his sweaty forehead against yours, "tell me."

"i realized what your eyes remind me of." you admitted softly, "i couldn't quite pin it after we met." you were breathing heavily as you locked your fingers further with his.

"and what do they remind of you?" he asked, curiously. he had heard people refer to them like the ocean, the sky after a store, the definition of blue.

you replied, "home. the lake near where i lived. not scary like the ocean. familiar like the lakes i grew up near."

max had no words, he simply laid another kiss on you. his hands grasped your tightly as you two moved together more. the pace quickened and max knew that he wanted to be in your life for a long period of time. he wanted you to be his home.

you moaned against the kiss, feeling the heat leap in your belly as you felt closer to orgasm. you came first with your lips against his. your back arched but your hands were pinned to the bed. it felt good as pleasure rushed to your brain.

max broke the kiss and continued to move against you. he let go of your hands in favour of your hips where he bounced your further against his cock. it made crackles of pleasure appear in your brain. and he was no better, his heavy breathing and occasional moan fueled his need to finish. and when he did, he did so inside of you. max never thought too much about the surgery you had, but he was thankful for it tonight.

he stayed inside of you for a moment as he cooled down before he left a kiss on the corner of your mouth. full of such tenderness as he pulled out of you and ran his fingers through his short hair.

you laid out next to him and heavily panting, feeling so vulnerable. he stayed closer to you, eventually pulling you to him and resting his chin on top of your head. you got comfortable against him.

"if you have any questions, i can answer them... about the whole trans thing." you swallowed, even now you felt embarrassed bringing it up. you felt it was a mood killer.

he took you by the chin and made you face him. he smiled down at you. he asked one question, "are you happy? did you get the life you wanted?"

you nodded in response, "everything and more." and that was enough for max. anything else you felt the need to tell him would be told with time, after all, max expected to be in your life for many years to come. both as his mechanic and lover.

max would only come clean about the relationship two years later. the end of his contract with red bull and a final championship was enough for the driver to retire peacefully. and when he retired, you retired and you made a home in monaco.

the coming out post set the internet ablaze. especially given how long you two had been together. wasn't anything too special, just a small collection of photos that he had taken over your time together. like the time you wore his helmet in 2025 with a big thumbs up. and that time you thoroughly messed up a birthday cake for him, and with the camera in your face, he rubbed the icing off your cheek. the one that really captured eyes was the one that a friend took of you at a house party when max came to visit your home country, with his legs over your strong lap and his lips against your face. you were smiling like the sun. being the center of a media storm was only braved with max by your side. at one point turning your phone off and throwing it onto the couch. his kisses were still loving as always, his words soft, and his affirmations of your gender were often so sweet that you'd cover your face in embarrassment.

you were always comfortable with the idea of not meeting your 'other half', you had been given a second chance at life once you came out. and if no one could accept you then so be it. but as you laid out on the couch laid out against your boyfriend with sassy at your side and your cat between the crook of your knee, you felt loved. <3

a/n: i do write for masc readers as well, both cis and beyond. just not as often because many request femme readers. but if an idea is cooking in your head. hit me with it!

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kinzhae · 3 days ago

Text

"Unrequited Love"

Reader has been in love with Satoru Gojo for years, but Satoru is oblivious and more focused on someone else. As reader grows closer to Suguru Geto, Satoru becomes jealous and realizes his feelings for reader. Eventually, Satoru confesses his love.

Gojo x Reader, High-school au!, more of a oc?, angst? , comfort, fluff, special ending, unrequited love, jealous gojo.

"Whats going on between you and suguru?"

The classroom was noisy, filled with the dull hum of chatter and the occasional clatter of a pencil hitting the floor. You sat hunched over your notebook, diligently jotting down notes as the teacher droned on about formulas that seemed to stretch endlessly across the blackboard. Next to you, Satoru lounged in his chair, barely paying attention.

But he wasn’t looking at the equations.

You didn’t have to glance up to know where his gaze was locked—it was the same place it had been for weeks now. You could feel it, the way his attention was entirely absorbed by her. The girl across the room with the soft laugh and the fluttering lashes, the one who had unknowingly—or maybe knowingly—captured his heart.

“She’s so perfect…” Satoru muttered, his voice barely audible but weighted with adoration.

Your pen faltered mid-sentence. You swallowed hard, gripping the pen tighter as you forced yourself to keep writing. His words echoed in your head, their impact much sharper than they should’ve been.

Your best friend. Seven years of laughter, secrets, and late-night conversations—and now, this.

You risked a glance at him. Satoru’s lips were curved into a smile, one so uncharacteristically soft that it sent a pang through your chest. He looked at her like she was the only person in the room. She must have felt his stare because she turned slightly, catching his eye and giggling before quickly looking away.

They were a perfect match, weren’t they? She was sweet, charming, and undeniably pretty. And you? You were just...there.

People joked about you and Satoru all the time, shipping the two of you as if it was some kind of game. "You two are inseparable," they’d say, laughter bubbling up like they were stating the obvious. But every time, Satoru would brush it off with a smirk and a wave of his hand.

“As if,” he’d scoff. “We’re just friends.”

Just friends.

You pressed the pen harder against the page, the ink bleeding into a dark spot as the words blurred in front of you. It wasn’t fair, how much space he occupied in your heart when yours barely registered in his.

“Hey,” Satoru whispered, nudging you lightly with his elbow.

You blinked and turned to him, hoping your expression didn’t betray the ache in your chest. “What?”

“Do you think she likes me back?” he asked, his voice tinged with excitement. His eyes sparkled with the kind of enthusiasm he used to reserve for teasing you about your messy handwriting or begging you to share your snacks.

You hesitated, the lump in your throat growing. She already liked him. It was obvious to everyone, even to you, who had tried so hard not to see it. The stolen glances, the way she laughed just a little too hard at his jokes, the way she seemed to linger around him whenever she got the chance.

“Probably,” you muttered, barely audible. You stared at the scribbled notes in front of you, your vision blurring slightly.

Satoru’s grin widened, and he leaned back in his chair with an almost triumphant look. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said, his voice buzzing with confidence. “I mean, who wouldn’t like me, right?”

You forced a small laugh, the sound hollow to your own ears. “Right,” you murmured, keeping your eyes glued to the page.

He didn’t notice, of course. He was too busy stealing glances at her again, his mind already worlds away from the person sitting next to him.

The rest of the class dragged on, every second feeling heavier than the last. You kept your head down, pouring all your focus into your notes as if they could distract you from the weight in your chest. But it didn’t help. Not when you could still hear the faint sighs of admiration slipping from Satoru’s lips, not when you could still feel his excitement radiating next to you.

When the bell finally rang, you shoved your notebook into your bag with shaky hands, eager to escape. “I’ll see you later,” you said quickly, not waiting for his response as you stood and made your way toward the door.

“Wait—hey, where are you going?” Satoru called after you, but you didn’t turn around. You couldn’t.

You weaved through the crowded hallway, your head down as you tried to push the thoughts away. It wasn’t the first time you’d felt invisible next to him, and it wouldn’t be the last. But knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.

By the time you reached the quiet corner of the library, your usual hideout, the tears were already threatening to spill. You slumped into a chair and buried your face in your hands, letting out a shaky breath.

It wasn’t fair. Loving Satoru wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

You thought back to all the times he’d been there for you, his playful grin and easygoing attitude lighting up even your darkest days. You’d fallen for him so gradually, so deeply, that you hadn’t even realized it until it was too late. And now, you were stuck watching him fall for someone else—someone who could give him the kind of happiness you never could.

The thought sent a fresh wave of pain through you, but you swallowed it down. You couldn’t cry here. Not now.

Taking a deep breath, you wiped your eyes and opened your notebook again. If Satoru was happy, that should’ve been enough for you. It had to be.

But as you sat there, staring blankly at the page, a small, bitter part of you wondered if it ever really would be.

The quiet of the library was broken by the sound of a chair scraping across the floor. You glanced up, startled, and found none other than Suguru Geto sitting across from you. His usual calm demeanor was intact, but his sharp eyes were fixed on you with an intensity that made you squirm.

“Skipping out on Gojo?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. His voice was low, almost teasing, but there was a hint of genuine curiosity behind it.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to say. Suguru was one of the few people who knew Satoru as well as you did, maybe even better. If anyone could read between the lines, it was him.

“Not skipping,” you mumbled, looking back down at your notebook. “Just needed some air.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Air? In a library?” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

Your pen faltered again, and you let out a quiet sigh, the weight of the day pressing down on you. “Why are you here, Suguru?”

“To check on you,” he said simply.

You blinked, surprised. “Why?”

“Because you looked like you were about to fall apart back there,” Suguru replied, his voice softer now. “And because I’m not blind. I’ve seen the way you look at Satoru.”

Your heart sank, the words hitting harder than you expected. You opened your mouth to deny it, but Suguru cut you off with a small wave of his hand.

“Don’t bother,” he said. “It’s written all over your face. Has been for a while.”

You looked away, the embarrassment and pain swirling together in your chest. “It doesn’t matter,” you muttered. “He’s in love with her.”

Suguru didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he sat back in his chair, studying you with a thoughtful expression. “You know, for someone as sharp as you, you’re pretty stupid sometimes.”

You frowned, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Listen,” Suguru said, leaning forward again. “I’m not saying Satoru doesn’t have a thing for her. He clearly does. But do you honestly think he’d brush you off if you told him how you felt?”

The question caught you off guard, and you stared at him, speechless.

Suguru sighed, shaking his head. “You’re his best friend, you idiot. He cares about you more than you realize. Maybe even more than he realizes.”

A bitter laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “That’s the problem. I’m just his best friend. Nothing more.”

Suguru’s expression softened, and he gave you a small, almost sad smile. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re too scared to find out if that’s really true.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken possibilities. You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but deep down, a part of you wondered if he was right.

Before you could respond, Suguru stood, pushing his chair back with an easy grace. “Think about it,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “And if you need someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”

You watched him leave, your heart still racing from the conversation. Suguru had always been perceptive, but you hadn’t expected him to see through you so easily.

As you sat there, the notebook in front of you forgotten, his words echoed in your mind.

The days following your conversation with Suguru were...different. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but you found yourself gravitating toward him more often. Maybe it was the way he seemed to genuinely understand you, or maybe it was the subtle kindness in his words, the quiet reassurance that you weren’t as invisible as you felt.

Suguru didn’t pry after that day in the library, but he didn’t pull away either. Instead, he started seeking you out during lunch, sitting next to you in class when Satoru was distracted, and walking you halfway home with casual ease.

At first, it felt strange—foreign even—to have someone’s attention focused on you so completely. But as time went on, you began to relax around him. Suguru’s presence was calming, a stark contrast to Satoru’s endless energy.

You weren’t the only one who noticed the shift.

Satoru was glaring. Not at you, not even at Suguru directly, but it was clear as day. His usual cocky grin was replaced by a tight-lipped expression every time he caught you and Suguru talking.

“Yo,” Satoru called one afternoon, sliding into the seat beside you in class with an exaggerated stretch. “What’s up with you and Suguru lately?”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden question. “What do you mean?”

Satoru tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve been hanging out with him a lot. More than usual.”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “We’re just talking. He’s been helping me out with some stuff.”

“Stuff?” Satoru echoed, his tone sharp. “Since when do you need him for stuff?”

Your chest tightened at the accusation in his voice, and you frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean? Suguru’s been a good friend.”

Satoru opened his mouth to retort but stopped himself, his jaw clenching as he looked away. “Nothing. Forget it.”

The awkward tension settled between you, a stark contrast to the easy banter you used to share.

It wasn’t long before Satoru’s irritation bubbled over.

One afternoon, as you and Suguru walked out of the classroom together, Satoru intercepted you in the hallway.

“Hey,” he said, his tone light but forced. His eyes flicked to Suguru, and the tightness in his smile was unmistakable. “Mind if I steal my best friend for a sec?”

Suguru glanced at you, a knowing look passing between you two, before nodding. “Sure. I’ll catch you later.”

The moment Suguru walked away, Satoru turned to you, his expression unreadable.

“What’s going on with you two?” he asked, his voice low.

“What do you mean?” you replied, folding your arms defensively.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Satoru shot back. “Since when are you and Suguru so...close?”

You felt a flicker of frustration. “Why does it matter?”

“It matters because—” He stopped abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “It just does, okay?”

“Why?” you pressed, your voice trembling slightly. “Because you don’t want me to be close to someone else? Because you’re afraid someone might actually notice me?”

Satoru flinched, as if your words had struck a nerve.

“It’s not like that,” he said, his tone softer now. “I just... I don’t want to lose you.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard, and you stared at him, your frustration slowly giving way to confusion.

“Lose me?” you echoed.

Satoru looked away, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. “You’re my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do if things changed between us.”

For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to them than he was letting on.

“Things are already changing,” you said quietly. “You just didn’t notice until now.”

Satoru’s gaze snapped back to yours, his blue eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Fear? Regret? Maybe even jealousy?

Whatever it was, it made your heart ache all over again.

“Satoru…” You hesitated, unsure of what to say. “I’m not going anywhere. But you don’t get to act like this just because someone else is paying attention to me.”

His expression wavered, and for the first time in a long while, Satoru Gojo didn’t have a witty comeback. Instead, he just stood there, his silence speaking volumes.

And for the first time, you realized that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as indifferent as he seemed.

Time passed, and your relationship with Suguru settled into something steady and comforting. He became your anchor, a quiet presence who never pried too deeply but always seemed to know when you needed someone to talk to—or when you just needed silence.

But the more time you spent with Suguru, the more obvious it became that whatever existed between you two was purely platonic. Suguru didn’t treat you any differently than he treated others he cared about. His kindness wasn’t exclusive; it was simply who he was. And, honestly, that was okay.

What wasn’t okay, however, was the growing tension between you and Satoru.

Every interaction with him felt charged, as though there were unspoken words hanging in the air, threatening to break free. He was quieter around you lately, more subdued than you’d ever seen him. It wasn’t the Satoru you knew, the one who filled every room he entered with a boundless energy that couldn’t be ignored.

And yet, he never stopped looking at you.

You caught him staring more often than not, his usually bright eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite decipher. You tried to ignore it, brushing off the way your stomach twisted every time you felt his gaze linger.

Until one day, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

---

It was late after school, the sun dipping low in the sky as you packed your things. Most of the students had already left, but you’d stayed behind to finish an assignment. Suguru had offered to walk you home, but you insisted you’d be fine.

As you slung your bag over your shoulder and stepped into the empty hallway, you nearly bumped into Satoru.

“Whoa,” he said, his hands shooting out to steady you. “Careful.”

“Satoru?” you blinked, surprised. “What are you still doing here?”

“I was waiting for you,” he admitted, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

Your brow furrowed. “Waiting for me? Why?”

He hesitated, his hands slipping into his pockets as he looked away. “Can we talk?”

The weight in his voice made your heart skip a beat. You nodded slowly. “Okay.”

He led you outside, where the cool evening air wrapped around you both. You walked a short distance to a bench under a tree, the silence between you stretching uncomfortably.

Finally, Satoru broke it. “I don’t know how to say this,” he began, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. “But I can’t keep it in anymore.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. “Satoru, what’s going on?”

He took a deep breath, his blue eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten. “I’ve been an idiot,” he said. “I’ve been so focused on other things—on other people—that I didn’t realize what was right in front of me.”

Your breath hitched, and you opened your mouth to speak, but he continued before you could.

“I didn’t realize how much you mean to me,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “And I’m scared I’ve already screwed it up. But I need you to know—” He paused, his hands clenching into fists. “I love you.”

The words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. You stared at him, stunned, your mind racing.

Satoru looked down, his usual bravado completely gone. “I know I don’t deserve it, not after how I’ve acted. But I had to tell you. I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine.”

For a moment, you were silent, the weight of his confession settling over you.

“Satoru…” you finally said, your voice soft. “Why now?”

He looked up, his eyes filled with something you’d never seen before—vulnerability. “Because I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you,” he said. “Not to Suguru, not to anyone. I was jealous, and it made me realize how much I care about you. Not as a friend. As...as something more.”

Your heart swelled and ached all at once, the emotions swirling within you almost too much to bear.

“Satoru,” you said again, your voice trembling. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”

His eyes widened, hope flickering in their depths. “You mean…?”

“I love you too,” you admitted, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I have for a long time.”

Relief and joy washed over his face, and he let out a shaky laugh. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he said, reaching for your hands.

You let him take them, his touch warm and familiar. And in that moment, it felt like all the pain, all the waiting, had been worth it.

Satoru Gojo wasn’t perfect—far from it. But as he looked at you with more love than you’d ever thought possible, you realized that he was everything you’d ever wanted.

Special:

The warmth of Suguru’s laughter filled the quiet park, the three of you lounging on a patch of soft grass under the shade of a massive tree. It had become a tradition to meet here after long days at school, a space where you could escape the world and just exist together.

Satoru was sprawled out on his back, one arm shielding his eyes from the sun, while Suguru sat cross-legged, his usual calm and collected demeanor on full display. You were sandwiched between them, leaning back on your hands, the breeze tugging gently at your hair.

“I don’t get it,” Satoru grumbled, sitting up abruptly and running a hand through his messy white hair. “Why does he always get the compliments?” He jabbed a finger at Suguru, who raised an eyebrow in mock amusement.

“Maybe because I’m more charming,” Suguru replied, his voice smooth and teasing.

“Charming, my ass,” Satoru scoffed. “You’re just taller. People fall for that whole ‘mysterious guy’ thing you’ve got going on.”

“Ah, so you’re admitting they don’t fall for you?” Suguru quipped, smirking.

You couldn’t help but laugh at their bickering. It was always like this—playful jabs, exaggerated arguments, and you caught somewhere in the middle. But today, there was an ease in the air that made it all feel special, like the world had melted away, leaving just the three of you.

“Okay, okay,” you interrupted, raising your hands to placate them. “Let’s not start a war over who’s more likable.”

“Too late,” Satoru said, his blue eyes gleaming mischievously as he nudged you with his shoulder. “You’re the tiebreaker. Who’s better—me or Suguru?”

Suguru chuckled softly, leaning back on his elbows. “Careful, Y/N. Your answer might just end a friendship.”

You rolled your eyes, used to their antics by now. “I’m not picking between you two,” you said firmly, though the smile on your face betrayed your amusement. “You’re both equally annoying.”

Satoru gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Annoying? Me? Impossible.”

Suguru shook his head, his grin widening. “She’s not wrong, though.”

Before Satoru could retort, you added, “But you’re also my favorite people in the world. So stop fishing for compliments.”

The sincerity in your voice seemed to catch them both off guard. Satoru’s teasing expression softened, and Suguru gave you a small, genuine smile.

“Careful,” Suguru said after a moment, his tone light but his gaze warm. “You’re going to make us emotional.”

“Too late,” Satoru said, leaning over to sling an arm around your shoulders. “Y/N’s stuck with us for life, whether she likes it or not.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t shrug him off. “Like I could get rid of you two even if I tried.”

The three of you sat there for a while longer, the teasing giving way to a comfortable silence. The setting sun cast a golden glow over the park, and you found yourself wishing that moments like this could last forever.

Because no matter how chaotic or complicated life got, being with Suguru and Satoru always felt like home.

#jjk angst #jjk satoru #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo x reader #angst #getou suguru x reader #jjk

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madridfangirl · 1 day ago

Text

Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fic)

Chapter 16

Jude * female reader. Mature Language in parts.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

..................................................

Ananya stared at the photo without blinking. Consciously trying to figure whether this was real or a cruel nightmare she’d wake up from any second.

When her phone flashed with Roma’s name, she knew she was living her nightmare. There was no escape.

‘Finally.’

Roma’s relieved voice came from the speaker, while Ananya’s eyes were still glued to the photo.

‘Say something girl. Please.’

There was no point asking if Ananya had seen the article and the photos, and that one photo in particular. The deafening eerie silence at the other end was confirmation enough.

‘She’s pretty, isn’t she?’

Roma started pacing around her boyfriend’s living room. This is exactly what she was worried about. That her friend would somehow find a way to take it upon herself, instead of being raving mad at that fucker.

‘No babe, don’t do that to yourself.’

‘Well she is. Very beautiful.’

‘I DON’T FUCKING CARE how she looks or who she is. This is not about her.’

Ananya shook her head ruefully, and spoke in a small, faraway voice.

‘She is just his type.’

Roma wanted to throw her phone at the wall. And Jude out of the window.

Guilt was hitting her in truckloads. And she cursed the moment when she had encouraged Ananya to give this relationship a shot. Moments rather, coz there had been many. She had been #TeamJude every step of the way. Look where it got her friend.

But this wasn’t the time to have her own meltdown. She needed to be strong for Ananya, whose voice & state she was struggling to read presently. Getting her to talk was crucial.

‘Has he called? Has he tried to explain?’

‘He hasn’t called since he left Madrid last weekend. And what’s left to explain in this?’

The article stated specifically that the images had not been tampered with, they had the original & had verified it. There were two eyewitness accounts confirming it too. Who further added that the ‘couple’ were ‘cozy’ and ‘inseparable’ all night. Other than the lip-lock photo, there were a few others of them sitting close to each other in a small group, smiling, having drinks, giggling. The over-familiarity all too visible. This was more than the usual Jude friendliness, no one could convince Ananya otherwise. Not even Jude.

There was nothing left to clarify. Maybe he didn’t even feel the need to. The fact that there wasn’t even a peep from him yet was maybe his way of sending a message. That whatever ‘arrangement’ they had, it was over.

Roma had no logical counter to this, but some instinct was telling her to hear Jude’s side of the story. That is, if he had a side to share and if he had any interest in sharing it. Sadly, Ananya’s reading of it was very much a possibility. Roma had to admit that Jude was capable of it. He moved on quickly from his arrangements, without much care for who or what was left behind. Somehow though, she was convinced that he was different with Ananya. Their interactions over the last 2 months further solidified her belief that Jude genuinely cared for Ananya. How could both of them read him so wrong? Something about it was not sitting right, but the lip-lock photo was staring her in the face. How could she deny that? How could she give any false hope to her friend, when she had already caused her so much pain?

Her friend may not have been showing that pain explicitly, but Roma knew Ananya was falling back on the veneer of logic & practicality in order to hide her vulnerability & heartbreak. The shield was up, guarding her from further hurt.

‘Why didn’t you stop me, Roma? These silly fairytales never work, they always end this way. Why didn’t you tell me he was out of my league?’

‘He is not out of your league. YOU ARE OUT OF HIS LEAGUE. If all he wants to do is fuck those dumb bimbos who run after him 24*7 then to hell with him.’

‘See, you’re doing it again.’

‘I am telling you PLAIN FACTS ANANYA. He was not the catch in this one, YOU ARE.’

Ananya laughed a deeply broken laugh. And Roma wished if she could somehow teleport and be with her friend right now. Her being all alone in that apartment and in Madrid had come at the worst time.

‘He could have at least told me himself. I deserved that much, no?’

Roma fought the urge to curse the living daylights out of that bastard. But something was telling her that despite all this, Ananya still won’t like that.

‘You deserved a lot more. You deserve a lot better than that asshole.’

‘I…wait what time is it in the US right now? Must be way past midnight right?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘Go to sleep, Roma.’

‘Rubbish. Talk to me. I’m not leaving you alone.’

‘Actually I kinda want to be alone. You know that’s how I process things.’

‘But…’

‘I’d be here when you wake up. Won’t do something stupid, if that’s what you are worried about.’

‘I don’t like how put together you sound.’

Ananya laughed that distant laugh again. It sounded so bitter and unpleasant to Roma, she never wanted to hear that sound again.

‘Want me to bawl my eyes out? That would be a natural & healthy reaction?’

‘Yes. That’s how I’d know it has hit you.’

Roma responded without missing a beat. She knew Ananya had this internal way of dealing with things but even then this felt messed up.

Ananya didn’t know how to articulate to her friend anymore. The tears were just not coming. The absolute sense of distraughtness and betrayal she should feel right now was just not happening. Maybe, maybe, a part of her always knew this would happen & was prepared for this? Maybe that’s why she was being able to disassociate herself from the situation and look at it so dispassionately?

‘Go to sleep Roma. You’ve been up all night. And remember - don’t contact him at all. No message, no call, just nothing. Don’t say anything to him. Maybe he’s even blocked us by now.’

It was part of his modus operandi. Ananya won’t be surprised.

Roma could see what Ananya was doing. The hurt was making her think of the worst and be prepared for it so even if that happens it doesn’t hurt her further. And Roma couldn’t blame her for acting this way. Because the pictures were damning, as were the eyewitness accounts.

She hated herself for pushing Ananya into his arms. The first date, her hesitation before she slept with him, all of that was dancing in Roma’s head, making her feel responsible for the hot mess her friend was in. Despite being aware of her emotionally fragile state and baggage from her previous relationship, Roma had still urged her to give it a go. Because she herself would have given it a go. But Roma should have thought of what was best for Ananya and not how she would respond to such a situation. She had failed as a friend, and Ananya was paying the worst possible price.

‘I’m so sorry babe. I really am.’

‘Stop that right now. You didn’t know him.’

‘I should have known.’

‘Hindsight is a bitch, ok? And guess what - I actually did know this is how he was. Because he told me. In his own words. With examples. But I still somehow convinced myself that I’d be the girl he’d change himself for. How delusional of me. Men like that don’t change, not really, I should have known. If anything, it’s my fault for still going ahead with it despite knowing everything about him.’

‘How about saying IT’S HIS FAULT? Coz that’s the only fucking thing that’s absolutely undeniable.’

‘Sure.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Look we can say whatever. But he’s not the one getting hurt. Maybe he’s still with…with her….right now. Having the time of his life. The only one responsible for my decisions is me. Can’t expect anyone else to make those calls or hold my hand through those. Especially when I knew everything about him. So you can say whatever and blame whoever but it was my decision and I have to live with it. That’s how it is in life. Ultimately you are on your own.’

‘You’re scaring the shit out of me Ananya. You’re not sounding ok.’

‘Actually I’m quite ok. Thinking clearly & straight. Maybe should have done that earlier but it is what it is. Now go, we’ll speak in a few hours. Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl, I can handle this.’

Roma had no doubt that Ananya was strong when she needed to be. But there is a time to be strong and a time to have a complete meltdown. She should be having a meltdown right now and not vice versa. But, the best Roma could do in this situation was to be there in whatever approach her friend took.

‘I know you can. I know you will. Talk to you in a few hours, yeah?’

‘Yes. Bye.’

‘Bye babe.’

When Ananya hung up, she didn’t know what to do with herself the next second. Looking at her phone anymore made her pukish. Staying away from it made her anxious. Watching something on OTT or just lying in bed made her dizzy.

Other than Roma, no one else close to her knew about Jude. And she didn’t want to bother her friend beyond a point either. Roma was meeting Chris after 6 long months and it was Christmas for crying out loud. Why ruin it for others just because her life was fucked up right now.

There was no one else to talk to. Which, in hindsight, was a silver lining. No one else would know what a royal fool she had made of herself. She could almost picture her cousin scoffing at her for trying to be in a ‘relationship’ with a playboy footballer who claimed to want to change for her. That only happened in rom-coms, not in real life. Thing is, she knew that. Very well. But still could not resist him. Solely her fault.

The face of that girl kept flashing in front of her eyes - Ananya couldn’t get her out of her head.

Then she did something she wasn’t proud of. That she absolutely should not have done. In a weak moment, she found that girl’s Insta and went through her pics.

She was stunningly beautiful. Perfect features. Perfect figure. Perfect hair. Perfect style. Gorgeous from head to toe. The kind of girl who would look perfect on Jude’s arm. The kind of girl Jude would want to show off to the world. Definitely the kind of girl he’d love to take to bed. Given their history and the fact they were on/off for ~2 years or so, they would have explored pretty much everything intimate together. She would have satisfied Jude in ways Ananya couldn’t even imagine.

It made sense for Jude to want to be with her. To go back to her. It was logical.

Why was it making Ananya’s head spin then?

She couldn’t be alone with her thoughts, not right now. Even roaming the streets in this chilly winter morning was an acceptable alternative. At least it would numb her, in more ways than one. And she set out to do just that.

Unaware of the absolute carnage he had caused, Jude was passed out in his bed. His team had obviously seen the article and images, as had his parents. The strategy was going to be no comment, as always; it would die down in a few days or a few weeks, as was the norm.

Denise knew Jude had returned in the early hours of the morning and no good would come from speaking to him at this time. So no one had bothered to wake him up. His phone was burning up with messages from friends and teammates, but he was too deep in his drunken stupor.

No one in his close circle knew why this would be catastrophic for Jude or unlike any previous tabloid pieces on him. No one other than Jobe.

When Jobe woke up around 9:30 am, from the constant notifications, he stared at his phone in disbelief. Then, he ran to Jude.

Not bothering to knock or anything, he breezed past his brother’s bedroom door to find him face down on the bed. Drooling in his sleep. The clothes & shoes from last night thrown around the room.

Jobe shook his arm. No response.

Then he shook him harder. Jude whined loudly.

‘Go away.’

‘Stop being a brat & wake the fuck up. Right now.’

That got Jude’s attention. Because Jobe rarely took that tone with him.

Rubbing his eyes, still half disoriented, he sat up on the bed.

‘What is it?’

Jobe just threw his phone in Jude’s lap.

And the colour drained from Jude’s face. In real time.

Frozen, wide-eyed, he stared at the photo on the screen. A million thoughts scrambling in his head yet not a single coherent one coming out.

‘Shit. No no no GOD NO.’

Jude looked up desperately at his brother, who was looking back intently with his arms crossed, trying to get a read on him.

‘See the rest of it.’

Jobe said plainly; his tone cutting through Jude’s mumbling sounds.

When Jude did, he almost wished he hadn’t. Every image, every caption more damning than the other. He could see what it looked like. And nothing was as stark as that ‘lip-lock’ thing.

The denial and shock made way to sudden rage at this massive invasion of privacy.

‘It was a fucking private club that charged buttloads for being so. Who the fuck even took these?’

‘So it’s true then?’

Jobe’s posture was neutral, but Jude saw the irritation in his tone.

‘NO. I mean, not all of it. Its….its not what it looks like.’

‘Cut the bullshit & tell me straight. Did something happen with her last night?’

Shoulders dropped in defeat, Jude covered his face with both his hands. Jobe knew him the best. And if even he had to ask this, what hope could he have with her?

‘It’s not what it looks like.’

Jude whispered, almost to himself, swaying from side to side.

Jobe eyed him for a few moments. It didn’t feel like his brother was lying, but he was guilty about something.

‘How would I get her to believe me, Jobe?’

He was still hiding beneath his hands. Hoping for this new reality to just vanish.

‘Do you want to?’

Jude grabbed his hand and pulled his brother down to sit close to him. Then, he flung himself at Jobe and Jobe’s arms came around his shoulders, hugging him back.

‘Please, not you too. You gotta believe me, please.’

‘I’m not the one you need to convince bro.’

Jude looked up at him then, with such hope & nerves that it tugged at Jobe’s heart.

‘I need to know this. Do you believe me?’

A long pause.

‘Yes.’

Jude went back into Jobe’s arms, as the younger boy patted his brother’s back gently.

‘Talk to her. Tell her everything.’

Jobe hadn’t understood what the ‘everything’ was but looking at Jude, he could tell there was more than meets the eye. His brother seemed to have fucked up somehow, just not as much as it looked like.

Jude kept his head buried in Jobe’s chest. He couldn’t seem to catch a break. This couldn’t have come at a worst time. Just when she was starting to….

‘Can you check my phone? See if there’s anything from her?’

He was too anxious to check himself, like there was some finality to it.

‘There’s nothing.’

Somehow, that was even worse.

‘Maybe she hasn’t seen it yet. It’s what, 11 am in Madrid?'

‘She has. I can feel that she has.’

‘Call her then.’

Jude’s fingers hovered over the call button, and finally Jobe clicked it for him.

It rang once. No response. They tried again. No response. One more time. Same result.

‘She’s got a roommate no? Call her maybe?’

Jude knew that if they had talked, then he won’t get a different response from Roma. He’d probably get a worse response in fact.

But he was desperate. So he tried it. Two full rings, nothing.

Then it hit him. During one of the movie nights at Ananya’s place, Roma had mentioned about her Christmas plans. One quick look at her Insta and Jude knew she was back in the US. She had been there all week.

So Ananya was alone in Madrid? All this week? That sucked big time. And he didn’t even realise that. Until now.

He looked at Jobe in despair.

‘Text her. Leave her a voice note. You can’t not do anything.’

When Jude opened his chat window with her, he realised that was all he had done all week. Just texts & voice notes. Brief. Hurried. But there was no time to kick himself. Time was of utmost essence right now.

‘Trying to reach you, dove. Pls call me back.’

Then he went back to staring at his phone, willing her to respond, while Jobe walked around the room, thinking what else could be done here.

One full hour passed. And Jude’s heart sank further with each minute.

Meanwhile, Ananya was taking a long walk on the Madrid streets in the mind-numbing cold. When the chill got too much to handle, she went to a nearby mall and sat at a coffee shop. Initially, the hustle & bustle around her was a welcome distraction. But soon it became unbearable. Happy families, cheerful friends and loving couples. While she didn’t have anyone right now. Their happiness was mocking her. So she took the long walk back home, delaying reaching that place to the extent possible.

Once inside, where she could feel her fingers again, she pulled out her phone & found 3 missed calls + three messages from her supposed boyfriend.

Boyfriend. Yeah right.

She read the first message and scoffed at the nick-name.

The next one had come 15 mins after the first.

‘Missing you. Pls talk to me.’

She scoffed harder at the ‘missing’ part. Last week was surely a unique way of missing her. She looked at the last message finally.

‘Baby I’m worried now. Need to hear your voice.’

This charade needed to end. She needed to rip off this band-aid. Maybe it would even give her some clarity?

Ananya stood in front of the mirror and took a long hard look at herself. She still hadn’t cried yet. Not a single tear. She didn’t know why.

Maybe because she had been an emotional wreck in her last relationship. So much that she couldn’t even recognise herself at times. That had not done anyone any good. She had vowed to be different in this one. To be the voice of reason & logic, not some sobbing little sap.

Was it really not normal? Was Roma right? She didn’t know, but at least this steeled up state put her in a decent space to talk to him and get it over with. To see what kind of story he would concoct. At least she won’t be a mess in front of him. She won’t give him the satisfaction of breaking her.

Just then, her phone flashed with a video call from Jude. She disconnected it & dialled him on audio. Jude nearly dropped the phone when she called back - with relief and with nerves.

‘Oh thank god. I was starting to get worried.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Let me see you, dove? Let’s face-time?’

‘I think this is fine.’

Awkward silence ensued. Ananya had no intention of helping him or giving him any segue. The least he could do was man up and have the balls to admit what he did. She waited for him to get there.

Her aloofness was confirmation enough. She had seen everything. Read everything. Suddenly Jude was at a loss for words. So he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

‘It’s not what it looks like.’

And there it was.

‘The photos are doctored?’

‘No, but..’

‘The kiss didn’t happen?

‘It did, but…’

‘Did you sleep with her?’

‘WHAT?’

‘What part of that did you not understand? Did you spend last night with her? Are you still in her bed or on your way back?’

The sheer lack of emotion in her tone made her sound so cold. Distant. It hit him like a whiplash.

Jude had heard a similar voice before, when the earlier tabloid piece had come out. But this was 10x of that. This was his Ananya but not really. It’s like she had locked her emotions away, only letting her brain come to the fore.

‘I’m home, babe.’

‘Oh. Didn’t have a morning tumble then? Thought you really liked those.’

Jude shut his eyes tightly, and ran his spare hand through his hair. Absolutely losing handle on the conversation.

‘Please I’m begging you pls just hear me out ONCE. Please.’

He heard a sharp intake of breath at the other end. A decision had been reached.

‘Fine.’

‘We bumped into each other at a private club yesterday. Hadn’t seen each other in over 2 years so just got talking. Remember, we were friends before we started dating, yeah? She was mostly talking about football and how great it was to see my journey. Then we spoke about some school mates and what they were up to right now. Shared a laugh or two about them. That’s what you see in the other photos. It wasn’t some personal conversation about her & I or our time together. We didn’t go there, I swear.’

‘And yet you magically kissed after that? How amusing.’

Jude sighed deeply. This next part would be a lot harder to navigate, he knew that already.

‘We were drunk. Out of our wits. The lads wanted to go to another club so when we were pushing off, I leaned in to greet her and….kiss her goodbye….on her cheek. In hindsight should not have done that either but hindsight is a bitch. She….she turned her face at the last moment and…it turned into a proper kiss. But I swear I pulled away immediately.’

Ananya laughed that bitter laugh, the one Roma had heard a few hours ago. It turned Jude’s hands cold.

‘So she came on to you? That’s the line you’re taking?’

‘Well that or she was drunk & it was an accident for her too.’

‘I see. Which one do you think it was? Accident or she wanted to kiss you?’

The cold hands suddenly were clammy now.

‘I…I don’t know.’

“Do me a favour & take a guess.’

He knew she could sense the guilt in his voice, hence was doubling down. In a different situation he was capable of straight up lying & getting away. But with her he just couldn’t.

‘I-I think I may have… led her on. It may have looked more to her than what it was.’

Zero response from the other end. Just the sound of her breathing. He took it as a cue to continue.

‘Given our history…and familiarity…our proximity may have given her the impression that I was….interested.’

‘That, and the coziness and the inseparability, yeah?’

‘Don’t believe the tabloid captions, babe. You know what they are like.’

‘I’m gonna believe my eyes. I saw how you were with her. In every photo, not just THAT one.’

‘I swear I didn’t…’

She cut him off, having heard enough of his swears.

‘Why didn’t you tell me immediately? Why didn’t I hear this from you?’

‘It was late. I was drunk. Wasn’t thinking straight. Was still trying to understand what the fuck just happened.’

‘And you didn’t know there was going to be any evidence of it.’

Long pregnant pause. Then a small choked voice.

‘Yes.’

‘Hmm. So your intentions were all holy & pure but she misunderstood them somehow and came on to you and kissed you. And it only happened ONCE but somehow in just that ONE moment there was someone to capture that clear photo. Then you went your separate ways yet you didn’t bother to tell your current girlfriend that this gigantic thing happened with your ex-girlfriend. And now you feel you may have led her on inadvertently. That sums it up?’

‘I know how it sounds. I know how it would have looked to you but baby please trust me I didn’t want anything with her. Not for a second.’

‘So you say.’

‘My friends were with me all night. I can get any of them to talk to you.’

‘As if they haven’t lied for you or covered for you before.’

They had. Many times. Jude had no counter to this.

His desperation was at its peak now. He could feel her slipping away. Rapidly.

‘You know what you mean to me. In your heart you know how precious you are to me. Why would I intentionally do anything to screw that up?’

She scoffed so derisively it cut through his soul.

‘Precious? Sure. That’s why you forgot about me all week, as soon as I was out of sight. And someone else was in sight.’

That was one thought Ananya couldn’t shake. That it wasn’t the only time they had met. Maybe the reason he was so MIA this week was because of that girl.

Jude was distraught. She was landing punch after punch. Every word piercing, laden with truth. And he had no defence to any of it.

‘Why are you talking to me like this? Like you don’t…care anymore. Like it doesn’t matter anymore. Like you’ve already decided I’m guilty and…and…whatever I say makes no difference.’

She refused to humour that with a response. It was self-explanatory according to her.

‘Don’t do this. Please I’m scared. Don’t pull away like this. I don’t know what to do, dove. You know me. You’ve always understood me. Pls one more time, pls try to understand.’

Understanding him was all she had done since she met him. His ways, his lifestyle, his schedules, his highs & lows, his moods, his past.

But not only had he made a mickey out of her feelings, he was also insulting her intelligence now by cooking up this convenient story. That was a double whammy she refused to take.

Her silence was making his pulse go a million miles per second.

He needed her back, right fucking now.

‘Look, once I am back there in a few days it will be fine, ok? We’ll meet and we’ll be together and you’ll realise it was all a big misunderstanding. Can’t wait to have you in my arms.’

She had no interest in being subjected to his seductive charm or manipulative ways again. Just so he could reel her back in.

‘I won’t be here when you return.’

‘Wh-what does that mean?’

‘I have moved up my trip to India, leaving in 2 days.’

‘Whyy? When did you…when are you back?’

‘Don’t know yet.’

‘What about work?’

‘Work from home is allowed under special circumstances. I’ll think of something.’

‘So you’re just going to walk out?’

‘Some distance wouldn’t hurt.’

‘Distance from me?’

‘From everything. But yes, mostly from you.’

That was a bodyblow which made him nearly tumble over in pain and hurt. Disorienting him to the point he didn’t know what he was saying anymore.

‘So you’ll run at the first sign of trouble? Not gonna fight for us? I thought you hated your ex for doing that.’

Boy, was that a low blow. She was fuming. If he were near she could have strangled him with her bare hands. After everything he had done, everything they had been through, every time she had given him the benefit of the doubt, the bastard had the audacity to say first sign of trouble? ‘First’? Like it was her fault they were in this mess. Like she was the one who had cheated.

But why was she surprised? Jude was like any other man, clearly. It was always the girl’s fault. Always.

She won’t give him the satisfaction to get a reaction out of her anymore. He didn’t even deserve her anger.

After a few deep breaths and the burning sting of her nails in her thighs, she recovered.

‘You’re right. I’m the one to blame here.’

‘Can you GET OFF YOUR HIGH HORSE FOR ONE FUCKING MINUTE and talk like a real person? A person with feelings other than sarcasm?’

Her patience reached its limits.

‘I think we’ve hurt each other enough, yeah? Let’s call it a day.’

‘Are you for real right now?’

‘Are you?’

‘Waittt. Please wait. Pls this can’t be happening. It’s ME. It’s US. How could you walk away from us?’

‘Bye Jude.’

‘NO. NO. Dove please just…’

Her resolve was fast breaking, as was her voice. Despite everything, she couldn’t see him in pain. Not like this.

‘Have a good…good one Jude.’

With that, she hung up.

And all the pent up emotion came flooding out of her eyes.

She cried and cried, falling face down on the bed, clutching the phone to her chest, trying to remember the sound of his voice, because maybe, maybe, this was the last time she had heard it.

Every inch of this house was filled with his memories.

The dining table was where they had their first kiss. The couch had been the place for endless cuddles, cozy dinners and movie nights. The kitchen is where he usually followed her into, as she tried to wrap up some chores or fix them a snack.

Her bedroom was the worst. So many nights cuddled up together, when he came to her post matches or out of city travels. Their first time had also happened here. The desk, the walls just reminded her of the countless times he had backed her against those.

The place smelled of him. She could almost see his face anywhere she looked.

And she ran. To the first decent escape she could find - a movie hall. A random Spanish language movie was playing, but at least she wasn’t in a place that felt like a graveyard of his memories.

She had sworn to herself to not break this time. No, she will be strong through all this. She will not be a weeping mess. She will not let her heart knock her down, not again.

She had been through this once, she was equipped to handle this.

Jude, on the other hand, had no idea what hit him.

This kind of pain he was not familiar with. When you have no control over your life, and your happiness / sanity is entirely in another person’s hands. The sheer helplessness of it completely caught him off guard.

Why did it have to happen now? Just when he was truly giving it a shot. When she was starting to open up to him. Why now?

He wasn’t even sure what exactly had happened, given how quickly things transpired and boiled up.

Jobe came to check on him a few minutes later and found him sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed. He was quiet, far too quiet for Jobe’s liking.

He sat down next to his big brother, and put an arm around his shoulder. Jude leaned into his touch immediately, leaving his body loose against Jobe’s.

‘Didn’t go well?’

Jobe asked softly.

‘It was horrible. Nasty.’

Jude managed to utter, almost mumbling to himself.

‘Tell me what happened.’

Jude gave a summary and Jobe sighed through it. Once done, Jude looked at his little brother for some suggestion. Or some words of comfort. Or both.

But Jobe’s face was telling him what he needed to know. What he knew already.

‘It’s fucked up, isn’t it?’

‘It is bad bro, not gonna lie. But, maybe, give her some time and it’d get better?’

Jude kept shaking his head, staring into a void.

Ten mins passed by and Jude sat like that. Without saying another word. Just leaning into Jobe.

This was new territory for Jobe as well. He had seen Jude through a ton of lows, mostly professional, but Jude took those to heart as well so they turned personal for him.

But the thing with Jude was, he was always expressive. Emotional. Animated. Wearing his heart on his sleeve. Whether he was angry or upset or sad he would still express his emotion passionately.

It was very rare for Jude to get this quiet. The last time he’d been like this was when Dortmund lost the league on the last match-day. Jobe could tell how dire this was for him.

He pulled out his phone slowly and opened his chat window with Ananya. The pair had actually exchanged a few messages this week. Random stuff - books, shows etc.

But what could he say to her? Was it his place to intervene? He had only met her like 9 days ago. Only spent a few hours with her. Would it make things worse if he says anything?

Something in his gut was telling him to still do it, and Jobe believed in following his instinct.

‘Hey. Hope you’re doing ok.’

A few seconds later, he could see her typing back.

‘Hey.’

‘I’m sorry for butting in, I really am, but for what it’s worth I don’t think he’s lying.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Because I’ve never seen him like this. Ever.’

‘Were you with him last night?’

‘No.’

‘Then you can’t say for sure.’

‘I know it. I can tell.’

‘You love him, Jobe. He’s your brother. I get it that you’d believe him. But I hope you can see why I can’t.’

Jobe didn’t know what to say beyond this. The writing was on the wall. Loud & clear.

Jude was still zonked out. This had gone beyond Jobe’s handling power. He needed the big gun here.

Denise got Jobe’s message and came into the room, finding both her boys sitting on the floor. Air filled with doom & gloom.

Alarmed, she rushed to them and Jobe stood up, letting Denise take his place next to Jude.

Jude immediately melted in Denise’s arms, placing his head on her lap.

She patted him gently, rocking him a little while Jobe filled her in about Ananya.

Denise wasn’t surprised; she had known all along something was different with Jude last few weeks. She had even hinted it to him once or twice but eventually let it be, thinking he’d come tell her when he’s ready. If he’s ready. But she didn’t know it was something deep. Something this deep.

Jude’s face and silence was telling her all she needed to know. About how much that girl meant to her boy.

She ran her hand through his hair, and stroked his shoulder with the other hand. Jude sighed in her lap, near tears. The moment reminded her of how Jude had cried while leaving Birmingham City 3.5 years also. Even then he had been on the floor, while she tried to console her 17 year old who was moving away from home forever.

‘Do you want to make this right, Jude?’

Her tone was loving, but not overly so. Because she knew how heartbroken that girl would be at the other end, far worse than her son. And her son needed to learn that actions have consequences, especially in matters of the heart.

Jude whimpered out a response.

‘Ofcourse, mum. I need her. What do I do?’

‘If you truly want to be with her, then you’d know what to do. Think what she would want you to do right now.’

And instantly, it hit Jude.

Ananya returned late in the evening, and was just taking off her coat, when she heard her doorbell.

Thinking it must be some neighbourhood folks coming to offer her Christmas pudding, AGAIN, she dragged herself to the door.

And found him on the other side. The man of her dreams. The cause of her nightmares. Jude fucking Bellingham was standing at her door, with a bouquet of white tulips in his hand.

...........................................................................................

There you go.

I broke the original idea of the chapter into two - Ch 16 and 17.

Else it was becoming a very long & emotionally draining one chapter.

This should give you more clarity.

As always, would love to hear your thoughts / comments / messages.

#jude bellingham #real madrid #bellingham #jude #jb5 #jb #jude bellingham smut #jude fanfic #bellingham x reader #star crossed lovers #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham blurb #desi girl #jude bellingham angst #jude fic #jobe bellingham

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marauder-misprint · 2 days ago

Text

People watching

Part 1 Part 2

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

1.3k words

cw: fluff

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, allowing the sun to warm the grounds of Hogwarts. As if it were written in scripture, students were opting to lounge around outside rather than spend any amount of time inside. You had prepared a few snacks to bring with you while you attempted to study. You made it maybe fifteen minutes before deciding it was too beautiful of a day to be studying, even if you were outside. You wanted to enjoy it fully so now you were eating some of the snacks and people watching.

You are fairly well entertained when you notice some movement near you. There’s a squirrel, twitchy nose and bushy tail, looking at you. Or, more accurately, the sandwich in your hand. The squirrel moves closer to you, approaching with caution. It was clearly ready to sprint away in a split second if it sensed danger. You pick off a bit of crust and toss it to the side of the creature. You didn’t want to hit it. That would give it the wrong impression. You smile as the squirrel quickly grabs the crust and immediately begins to nibble on it. You swear it looks back at you with hopeful eyes. You laugh and toss a piece further away. The squirrel goes to retrieve the new crust, eats it and comes back, the same hopeful look in its eyes. You repeat your actions, tossing the small crumbs of bread greater distances. You can’t help yourself; it’s just like playing fetch with a dog.

From their usual spot near the Black Lake, the Marauders are also enjoying the weather. Unlike you, they didn’t bother to bring homework or snacks. James, Remus and Peter were discussing plans and details for their next prank. Sirius wasn’t listening. He had spotted you when they walked out and he hadn’t been able to look away. He was confused at what you were doing, periodically tossing something and laughing. He was too far away to see the squirrel.

“Oi, Earth to Padfoot!” Peter all but yells, waving his hand in front of Sirius’ face.

“Huh? What?”

“Prongs wants your opinion on dungbombs or enchanted stink pellets.”

“But now I want to know what you find so interesting,” James says, trying to see what he had been looking at.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“It’s Dorcas’ friend,” Remus says, a smile creeping up his face. “The dog person, remember?”

James’ face lights up. “Still intrigued, are you?”

“Shut up.”

“Definitely still intrigued,” Peter confirms. “I’m not sure Padfoot heard most of our conversation.”

“I did so,” Sirius tries to defend. “I was listening.”

“And staring at her,” Remus adds.

“Have you considered, oh, I don’t know, talking to her?” Peter asks. “Or go balls deep and ask her out.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, turning his full attention back to the group.

“There was a moment at the last party. She was leaving and I basically asked her to stay and she didn’t.”

“Maybe parties aren’t her thing,” James offers, trying to be helpful.

“She did leave the other one right after she talked to you,” Remus says.

“Maybe it’s talking to you she doesn’t like. That’d be a first for a girl,” Peter snorts.

“We talk just fine!”

“Maybe you’re draining?”

“Wormtail, not helping,” Remus scolds him.

“I’m again suggesting that maybe she doesn’t like parties. Or maybe it’s the Gryffindor Common Room.”

Sirius looks at James, a small smile forming on his face.

“It could be the common room. She was leaving the party and I convinced her to come to the Astronomy Tower with me. It wasn’t until I tried to get her back into the common room that she actually left.”

Peter laughs, “You took her to the Astronomy Tower? And you didn't snog her? It’s that your spot?”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “It’s a spot. Can’t say I own it.”

“You’ve taken a fair amount of girls up there though,” Remus adds.

“I went up for air.” The boys give him disbelieving looks. “Okay, and I followed her out because I didn’t want her leaving so soon. As you so kindly confirmed, I am still intrigued by her. Happy?”

James crosses his arms and nods. “Yes. Quite.”

Sirius looks back at you and his smile slowly turns down into a tight lipped frown. Some time during his friends’ interrogation, his brother had made himself at home next to you. Even as far away as you are, you’re obviously comfortable and happy in his presence. An unnerving feeling erupts in Sirius’ stomach.

---

“Slug Club is having a cocktail party in a few weeks. Old Sluggy seems adamant that everyone brings a date,” Regulus complains, disgust dripping from the last word.

You chuckle, tossing the squirrel another crumb of food.

“Salazar, Reg, you act like bringing a friend is the end of the world.”

“A friend, no. A date, yes,” he corrects you.

“Same difference. Pretty sure Horace wants to make sure all his favorites are making the connections he wants them to. No one too sketchy and ill-fitting for him.”

Regulus groans and rests his forehead on your shoulder. You ruffle his hair affectionately.

“Does Slug like you?” Regulus mumbles into your arm.

“Enough, I guess. Not skilled enough in Potions or necessarily connected to anyone to earn myself a spot in the club.” You pause. “As you should know.”

“But if I brought you, he’d approve?”

You look down at Regulus. “You’re desperate for his approval?”

He lifts his head up just to nod it vigorously. His eyes are begging you to agree to his unasked invitation. You give him an amused half smile, your eyes twinkling with mischief.

“You’re going to make me actually ask, aren’t you?”

You nod, not looking away.

“Darling, will you go to the Slug Club party with me? If I have to suffer through it, I’d like company I can stand.”

“Oh, Regulus, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special,” you say with feigned sweetness, placing your hand over your heart. Then in your normal tone, “Yes, I’ll go with you. Please tell me I don’t have to dress too fancy, do I?”

“Uh, he didn’t say. I’ll ask.”

You nod and look bad to the squirrel. It’s been inching closer to you and your food. Regulus eyes the creature warily.

“Did you befriend that or something?”

“He’s just a little hungry.” The look of mischief in your eyes brightens. “Do you think I can get him to eat out of my hand? I’ve just been tossing him small bits but now that he’s closer…”

Your voice trails off as you break off a small chunk of bread and place it in the center of your palm. You flatten your hand completely and hold it out in front of you, close to the ground so the squirrel would be able to reach it.

“Ugh, please don’t,” Regulus groans, looking away from what he assumes will be some sort of disaster.

To his surprise, he hears you giggle and tentatively looks back. Your hand is empty. The squirrel is sitting back on its haunches, bread chunk in his tiny hands being nibbled on. You slowly lean forward and run a gentle finger down the animal’s back. It doesn’t seem to mind, but Regulus is fairly certain it’s because the squirrel is too preoccupied with the food you had provided it.

“One of these days you’re going to get bitten,” he warns, making you laugh.

“From my experience and from what I've heard, I’m more likely to get a bite from a classmate.”

Regulus’ eyes go wide. “Who is going to bite you?”

“Junior fully threatened to before he got together with Evan.”

Regulus makes a face and then you both start laughing.

“I don’t think that will stop him if he decides he wants to. Evan might bite you too.”

“And maybe a hungry Gryffindor if I get between them and breakfast?”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “As long as it’s not my brother. You might get rabies.”

“Are we sure that Junior doesn’t have that?”

“No.”

You start laughing harder than before. Somehow during your entire time outside, you never looked in Sirius’ direction and never saw him watching you.

tags: @2dloveshp, @yearninglustfully, @made-for-oliverwood, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @hisparentsgallerryy, @itsseaberri, @corawithfanfiction, @devilslittlehelper, @jllyunn

#marauders fic #marauders #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black fluff #slytherin!reader #slow burn #marauder-misprint

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skzstannie · 2 days ago

Text

"My Soulmate"

SKZ -> Hyunjin x fem!reader

genre: slight angst, crack, vampire/soulmate AU wc: ~2,200 cw: none

summary: being kidnapped and brought to your vampire soulmate is something you never knew you needed... until now.

A/N: Hello again! Life's been crazy, and I've actually had this written since forever ago, so I decided to go ahead and edit and post it! Hope you enjoy :)

Alsoooo, I survived the Ticketmaster war and was able to snag some SKZ tickets to the Chicago show!!!

Happy Scrolling! | Masterlist

"Please be careful. That area is so sketchy, especially at night. Infested with those dastardly vampires, I'll tell ya."

"Mom, I'm fine. The bus station is only a mile down the road, and I'm almost there," you speak into the phone.

Your mom gives a disappointed sigh from the other end. "Sweetie, I've heard so many stories of girls going missing on that street. I really wish you would've listened to me and taken a different way home."

"I've always taken this way home from work; why are you so worried about it now?" The more you speak with your mom, the more paranoid you become. All the shadows out of the corner of your eye appear as humans, lurking behind buildings and in alleyways.

"Because a girl was killed just last week walking around down there, not to mention she was by herself. Just like you!" she screeches over the line. You have to pull the phone away from your head to protect your poor eardrums. "It was a gang that took them! What was their name again? Stray dogs? Stray... Stay? I can't remember."

"It's Stray Kids, mom. I'm sure they're not even around these parts anymore now that the cops are looking for them."

Too focused on your surroundings rather than the ground beneath you, you trip and fall over a large lip in the sidewalk. Your body hits the ground, and you immediately clutch your knee. Your legs are littered with scrapes and scratches, but your knee in particular has blood dripping down it. Pieces of dirt cover your skin, unpleasantly sticking to your wound and the oozing blood.

You startle from the sudden cold breeze you feel over your shoulder. You turn abruptly, hissing when your leg rubs against the ground. Another gust of wind brushes past your front, and you're quick to twist around again. Your heartrate picks up at the eeriness of the situation, your hands turning clammy.

Suddenly, a being materializes in front of you. A scream catches in your throat when another appears next to him. Both are dressed in normal clothing, albeit entirely black in appearance, the only color emitting from the two beings in front of you coming from their pale skin. It's almost sparkling under the glow from the streetlights.

They stand and stare for a moment, and the silence is palpable. As you make eye contact with them, you take notice of their eye color- a deep, fiery red. You feel as though you’re in a hypnotic state as you continue to stare into their eyes. Your surroundings become blurred the longer you look, and you begin to feel dizzy as the world around you begins to spin.

You can faintly hear your mom screaming at you through your phone, calling out for you with panic in her voice, but you can't seem to look away from the boys in front of you.

The dizzier you feel, the calmer you become. It's a weird sensation, feeling all your anxiety and fear just slipping from you. The last thing you see is the muscular man in front of you approaching before you close your eyes from the exhaustion. It came out of nowhere, but it's all-consuming as all thoughts leave your head, and you're left their laying limp and vulnerable.

~ ~ ~

Your eyes feel heavy as you open them, and the bright lights are blinding as they invade your vision. Reaching up to rub your eyes, you quickly realize that your arms are tied behind your back. Becoming aware of your surroundings, you feel the cool plastic chair beneath you. Looking down, you see the zip ties around each of your ankles, anchoring you to the chair.

You appear to be tied up in a cell of some sort. Black, solid bars seal you off from the outside of the room. The cell is small, only about 8 ft by 8 ft if you had to guess. The floor is nothing special, just some concrete. While you can't see much from where your seated in the corner, the room around you seems empty and cold. A desk sits in the middle with a few stacks of paper on top.

Your eyes tear up at your predicament as the memories of the men dressed in all black come back to you. Question upon question spring into your head; where'd they come from? Where'd they bring you? What do they want from you?

Your worries seem to multiply by the second, and you are filled with dread as you consider the possibilities.

You know you must look amess as sweat starts to pool on your forehead, not only from the temperature of the room but also the imminent danger present upon you. Tears stream freely down your cheeks as you desperately pull at the zip ties holding you hostage.

A door creaks open while in the middle of your struggle, and you freeze. Voices fill the open space, and your mouth runs dry at the thought of meeting your captor.

"I told you, we won't be getting our next shipment of blood for another couple weeks. You're just gonna have to hold off-" the voice cuts off as the man walks around the corner. He makes eye contact with you. He shares the same eye color as the men that took you, but you know from the facial features that this isn't the same one.

The man heaves a sigh, his eyes never leaving yours. "I've gotta call you back," he says before hanging up the phone. Without uttering another word, the man walks back out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again.

It feels as if hours have gone by the next time you hear the door open. This time, cries of pain fill the silent void. You become alert at that, straightening up in your seat. Curiosity fills your gaze as you’re welcomed with the man from earlier, this time accompanied by two more.

The two men are being dragged by their ears, which appears uncomfortable if the sounds of pain are anything to go by.

The man from earlier releases them once they are standing right outside your cell.

"Explain yourselves," he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Both men start talking over each other immediately, making it impossible to understand either one. "One at a time you pabos!" he interrupts them, creating an uncomfortable silence.

The buff one, which you now recall as one of the accomplices to your kidnapping, gestures roughly to the other man. Taking this as his cue to explain, he begins, "We swear she's the right one this time!" His words are rushed as he gestures towards you.

"You're kidding," the man in charge says, bringing his fingers to grasp at the bridge of his nose. "We've already been over this. You two can't keep kidnapping women from off the streets just because you believe them to be Hyunjin's soulmate."

Your heart races as your brought into the discussion. Soulmate?

You've heard of soulmates, but only ever in fiction, like books and movies. From what you've read, vampires are the only beings who can initiate the soulmate bond. Thereafter, the human can feel the bond, as well.

Suddenly, the pieces fall perfectly into place as you consider all the factors. Materializing out of nowhere, the red eyes, the hypnosis. These guys are vampires. How you didn't put it together sooner, you're not sure.

The bravery you're hit with is astounding, and you can't hold yourself back from interrupting the conversation. "Who are you guys and what do you want from me?" The man's rambling stops as all three look to you.

"Hi..." the man rambling starts, "I'm Jisung, and this is Lee Know and Changbin. We've brought you here because we believe you're our friend's soulmate."

"Please just let me go. I promise not to tell anyone about this!" you plead. You don't know what being the soulmate of a vampire entails, but you surely don't want to find out.

"Oh, we can never let you go," the man in charge, Lee Know, answers. "You've seen us, experienced our presence. You either have to stay with us, or... well, we kill you. You can thank these idiots for that," he gestures to Jisung and Changbin. Jisung brings his hand up to the back of his neck, rubbing it awkwardly.

You let out a sob at the ultimatum. You don't want to stay here forever. You want to go home, shower, and complain to your mom about work. You want to call your best friend and talk to her about the cute guy that you saw. The thought of never being able to do those things again envelopes you with sorrow, and more prominently, fear.

"Please don't cry," Jisung says, his hands coming up around the bars of the cell. "We would never want Hyunjin's soulmate to be sad."

"Jisung, we don't even know if this is his soulmate," Changbin says, his gaze piercing the side of your face.

"I'll prove it to you," he says before running out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

"I swear, I will kill both of you if this isn't the right girl. You said that the time before this was the last, and I'm getting tired of hiding dead bodies," Lee Know tells Changbin.

The hair on the back of your neck stands up, and you suddenly really hope you are this guy's soulmate. While this doesn't sound like the greatest of situations, at least if you live you'll get a chance to escape.

Changbin and Lee Know talk amongst themselves, and your anxiety starts to build once more.

~ ~ ~

It feels as if hours have gone by the time there's movement outside your cell again. Changbin and Lee Know, having gotten tired of standing, had taken a seat on the couch towards the back of the room, busying themselves on their phones.

You're still stuck in the same position. You've been wriggling your hands around, but you've realized there's no use in trying to escape. The two men would surely notice if the zip ties came undone, and even if they didn't, you're still stuck in this cell. You don't know what lies outside this room, but you're scared to find out.

You finally hear the door swing open, and you recognize Jisung's voice, this time accompanied by another stranger. The two come into view, and your breath hitches in your throat when your eyes meet the man Jisung brought with him.

He is easily the most beautiful man you've ever seen. His eyes meet yours, and you're immediately captivated, unable to look away. It's a strange feeling, but you suddenly feel all the worry and fear being washed from you, leaving you with a feeling of peace and serenity. It's almost like you've known this man for years, the way he brought you immediate comfort in this unfamiliar place.

"My soulmate," he whispers, and at this point you can only assume this is the 'Hyunjin' they were talking about.

In the blink of an eye, he materializes in front of you, now inside the cell. He quickly brings his hands towards you, and you feel no fear. The dread that once filled your body is no more as you allow him to carefully undo the zip ties from around your wrists and ankles.

Tears still slip down your cheeks, but the emotional pain you once felt is no more. You're overcome with unfamiliar emotions, and the tears don't stop.

You feel as if you recognize Hyunjin from your dreams. Always the hero, saving you from whatever dangers are out there for waiting for you.

Once the zip ties are off, you immediately rise to your feet and reach out to hold him. He embraces you even tighter, his arms wrapping firmly around your exhausted figure.

"This is such a strange feeling, but I feel at peace now," you whisper to him, your head resting on his shoulder.

"It's because we're together. The soulmate bond, I initiated it, and you've accepted it," he whispers back. "We can be together now."

"Have I seen you before?" you ask, taking a step back to admire his beautiful features.

"Maybe in your dreams. I've visited you there before. I've known what you looked like for a long time. That's how these guys found you," he says, gesturing behind him to Jisung and Changbin.

"Yea, and it only took us two tries! Do you know how vague of a description I had to go off of?" Jisung complains.

"Because I didn't expect you to go out and try to find her!" Hyunjin exclaims, exasperated.

"Well, I figured since your birthday was coming up, I could do something nice for you. And it only costed us one casualty!"

"Which I'm still dealing with, by the way," Lee Know says.

"Yea, yea. I just had a gut feeling about it this time."

#stray kids #skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #skz angst #skz crack #vampire au #soulmate au

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torturedtypewritersdept · 3 days ago

Text

proclivity - pt. five - I know the end

✯ 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?

✯ 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 didn’t talk to Rafe until Wednesday when he texted you before your shift.

R: can’t wait to see you, pretty girl :)

Y: me too <3

You wanted to tell him everything so badly, about JJ showing up and everything you went through with him, but you couldn’t do that over the phone. There was no telling what he'd do when he found out. So you waited. You got to the Club before him on Wednesday, clocking in and tending to your tables, which were already full. It was going to be a busy night and usually you would welcome that, it helped pass the time. But, not today. Today, all you wanted was to talk to Rafael.

You were busy with one of your tables when he walked in. He admired the black cocktail uniform that clung to your body and the way your hair hung in its low ponytail. He felt lucky to know you, to get to watch as you interacted with your regular customers, always kind, no matter the circumstances. You didn’t do it because you had to, you did it because that’s just who you were. You flirted with your eyes as you spotted him and he returned it, a small smile lacing his features. It was thirty minutes before you could get away from your tables due to the dinner rush, but Rafe made a point to stay at the bar until he got a chance to speak to you. Even though looking at you was always enough, he wanted to hear your sweet voice in his ears.

“Rafael.”

You whispered into his ear, blowing in it, as you came up behind him. It sent shivers down his spine.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

He replied with a smile on his face, finally hearing that voice, that sound he had been craving. You slowly made your way behind the bar so you could stand in front of him and look at his handsome face. Rafe and handsome have always been synonymous words in your brain, but he didn’t need to know that. You quickly got to work, making a drink. A Tequila sunrise. It was your favorite to make, mostly because of how pretty the hues of orange and pink were, hence its name. You sat it in front of Rafe.

“I didn’t order this-”

“It’s on the house.”

You replied, winking at him.

“Well what is it? It looks girly.”

He chuckled.

“It’s my favorite. Just try it.”

You giggled at him and he sipped it slowly. His face shriveled up as the familiar taste of way too much tequila hit his lips.

“Jesus, Y/n, who taught you how to mix drinks? This is awful.”

His comment made you chuckle heartily.

“That would be you, Rafael.”

He grinned cheekily as he recalled the first time he asked you to make him a margarita, which you failed miserably at, prompting him to teach you how. You had never really mastered the skill of mixing drinks, but he pretended you were okay at it to appease you. Rafe was brought out of his thoughts as he watched your body tense up. He wondered if he had said or did the wrong thing and then he followed your eyes, as they landed on JJ who was across the room with Kiara, sitting in your section.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding.”

You whispered, hoping Rafe wouldn’t hear you. He reached out, grazing your hand with his fingertips as you vigorously wiped down the wood of the bar.

“You want me to beat him up, again?”

Rafe questioned innocently and you chuckled.

“No, he’s not worth it.”

“He is if you’re upset.”

Rafe stated, matter-of-factly.

“It’s not that, it’s just he knows this is my section and he sat in it on purpose. They just want to torture me like it’s not bad enough he slept with my best friend.”

The sadness that laced your voice made Rafe’s chest tight.

“Go take care of your tables and I’ll be right here the whole time. You just put your hand behind your back and ball up a fist if you need me, okay?”

You nodded, thankful Rafe chose today of all days to be here. You slowly but surely made your way from behind the bar and headed to the Carrera’s table.

“Hey guys! How are you?”

The Carerra’s faces lit up at seeing you. They had no idea why you hadn’t been coming around or the way their daughter had betrayed you. It wasn’t their fault she was a bitch and you weren’t going to punish them for it.

“Hey, sweet girl! We miss you. Where have you been?”

Kiara’s mom asked. She was an angel and always had been and you loved her.

“Just working.”

You gave your ex-best friend’s parents a tight lipped smile. Kiara’s eyes were apologetic even though she had never said she was sorry for what she had done.

“Well, we miss you. You should come see us soon!”

Mr. Carerra spoke up.

“I will. So what can I get you guys?”

“JJ and I will have two bacon cheeseburgers and a basket of fries to share.”

Kiara spoke with a cheeky smile, flaunting the consolation prize of her betrayal, a piece of shit pogue boy who is going nowhere. You had never had a problem with the Pogues until you had become one and they all betrayed you by covering up JJ’s infidelity. The Pogues were poison, just like Rafe had warned you all those years ago.

“I’m gonna hit the head.”

JJ muttered, surely feeling awkward about Kiara’s incessant need to be a show off. She wasn’t always this awful and you weren’t sure when she had taken a turn for the worst.

“What about you, Mike?”

You questioned Mr. Carerra.

“I’ll take the 15 oz ribeye. Medium rare with potatoes and green beans.”

“Yes, sir. That sounds amazing!”

You reply with faux enthusiasm.

“You’ll have to pull up a chair with us and grab a bite to eat.”

He spoke, his kind gesture making your heart melt.

“I definitely will if I can go on my break soon.”

You smiled at him.

“And for you, Anna?”

You questioned Kiara’s mother.

“I’ll do the chef salad with ranch, dear. I’d also love a small side of the mac and cheese.”

She smiled softly, you missed the warmth that you felt when she smiled at you.

“You got it, I’ll be right back with the food. Can I get you guys anything to drink?”

You asked.

“Just make sweet tea for all of us, sweetheart.”

Anna spoke kindly and you nodded.

Rafe watched as you made your way back to the kitchen to make their drinks and put the order in. After a few minutes he began to get a little worried, his radar for you always on high alert. For some reason it was taking you a long time to come back to him and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. That’s when he saw it, JJ Maybank had you cornered in the hallway of the dining room. He stayed back though, knowing you’d give him your signal if you needed help. Rafe was always very protective of you but he always tried to let you fight your own battles. Mostly because once when he defended you in the third grade by beating up the boy who was teasing you, you kicked him in the balls and let him know that you were your own hero. That was the day he realized he loved you. He smiled at the memory of your pigtails and the redness of your cheeks. Then, suddenly, Rafe was brought out of his thoughts at hearing bits and pieces of the venomous words JJ was speaking to you and he sprung into action as he saw your fist balled up behind your back. He made his way over to you, half-running, his protective nature overcoming his logical thinking.

“Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

He watched you as you visibly relaxed under his presence, knowing there was no way JJ could hurt you in Rafe’s presence.

“Hey, Rafey-”

You were cut off by JJ’s sneer.

“Everything was perfectly fine until you fucking interrupted our conversation.”

JJ spat in Rafe's direction.

“I clearly wasn’t asking you douchebag, I was asking her.”

Rafe responded nonchalantly. You could feel the anger emanating from him, his chest warm on your back, but he was holding back. You knew he was doing it for you. If that didn't prove he wasn't the same rafe you used to know, you didn't know what did.

“Right and here I was thinking you were calling me sweetheart.”

JJ spoke sarcastically. His sarcasm you used to find endearing, charming even, and now, it just made him more of a dick.

“What a shame JJ. Are you regretting losing my girl, that’s why you got her cornered in a dark hallway. Is Kie not enough for you?”

And - there it was. Rafe’s tone was laced with danger and he willed JJ to use his words correctly before he killed him with his bare hands.

“Your girl?! I’m not regretting anything if you must fucking know.”

JJ spat, almost unable to control his emotions.

“I mean, no judgment at all dude, she’s easily the best girl on this island.”

Rafe gave him a wink. He was a cocky little bastard when he wanted to be.

“Oh, you’d know, wouldn’t you? Haven’t you had every girl on the island?”

JJ questioned. He was a real asshole when he wanted to be.

“Could say the same to you, you know since you're passing your dick around like it’s the community pool.”

Rafe spit back.

“Rafael-”

You spoke softly, feeling the vibration of your glucose monitor go off. You didn’t feel right, something was wrong. You placed your hand limply around his bicep, urging him to back off and call it a day.

“Rafael? Who the fuck is Rafael and why are you touching him like that?”

JJ questioned, confusedly.

“That would be me, big guy.”

Rafe muttered, raising his two fingers like attendance was being taken in homeroom.

“I-”

“You know what, if you must know, it’s none of your business how she touches me or how often she uses a nickname with me or how many times she’s kissed me.”

Rafe growled.

“How many times she what-”

The hurt and jealousy that laced JJ’s eyes was something you’d never seen before.

“Joseph-”

You whispered Rafe’s middle name, which got his attention. You never called him Joseph, ever, and when he looked into your eyes he knew something was wrong. It clicked in his brain too late, as he felt you loosen your grip from his arm and he watched in horror as you hit the ground. Your head bounced off the carpet and you started convulsing violently.

“Angel! No! No, no, no, no, no.”

Rafe’s panicked voice echoed through the club as he yelled.

“Turn her on her side! She’s having a diabetic seizure!”

JJ interjected, yelling as he got down rolling you onto your side while Rafe stabilized your head.

“JJ, call 911!”

Rafe screeched.

“I’m on it!”

He yelled as he ran to grab his phone from the table, meeting Kiara’s eyes as he ran quickly back to you and Rafe.

“It’s okay, sweet, baby girl. You’re gonna be okay. I’m right here.”

Rafe whispered as he counted the seconds until your body stopped convulsing. He was careful with your head, scared he’d hurt you or that you would have brain damage when you woke up. Kiara had followed JJ back to Rafe, curious as to why her boyfriend was so distressed.

“J-”

Her voice faltered as she caught your unconscious form on the carpet of the country club.

“What the fuck is this? Why are you helping her?!”

She yelled in JJ’s direction, confusion and hurt, lacing her tone.

“Kie-, please tell me you’re not so insecure that you care that he’s trying to help me save your best friend from dying right now.”

Rafe growled in her direction and she made her way back to the table in tears. The ambulance got there quickly and immediately administered insulin and oxygen, which seemed to bring your vitals up. Rafe hopped in the back with you, not caring about leaving his truck at the club. He’d uber to get it later, once he knew you were okay.

When you started to stir, the first thing you noticed was the smell of sterilization and the weight of something pricking the hand of your skin. You were in the hospital. Shit. Willing yourself to pry your eyes open, you slowly blinked, taking in a tall figure, reading a book beside you, one of his hands in yours. You coughed, your throat and mouth extremely dry. His blue eyes met yours and you registered who it was. Rafael.

He stood up, making his way closer to you, standing over your head, in your line of vision. Rafe’s hands cupped your cheeks and he placed a kiss on your forehead before he spoke.

“Hey, pretty girl. How are you feeling?”

You tried to speak but your mouth was dry and then it dawned on you, your dad was going to kill you. You tried to sit up, which was a huge mistake as the movement shook your head a little too hard. Rafe pushed you back down by your shoulders.

“Easy, Tiger.”

He spoke softly, bringing a cup of water with a straw up to your lips, as he sat in front of you on the bed. You swallowed vigorously, like it was the first cup of water you’d had in ten years.

“Slow down, baby.”

He whispered in a sweet tone. You made eye contact with him after you decided you had enough of the beverage.

“Rafe, what happened?”

You questioned, confusedly.

“Your pump stopped working and you had a seizure from not getting your insulin.”

You nodded your head in response, shock rittling your senses at his words. It shouldn’t have surprised you after how many times it had happened, but it did and it hurt your feelings every single one.

“Will you lay with me?”

You asked, as sweet as could be and he couldn't deny you.

“Of course, sweet girl.”

Rafe crawled into the bed next to you, letting you cuddle into him and lay your head on his chest. His heartbeat brought you solace. He stroked your hair gently, his fingertips barely grazing the strands, and placed a kiss on your bandaged forehead. You had a concussion and some stitches from where you hit your head on the floor and he was as careful as possible when he placed the kiss, scared he’d hurt you.

“Rafael, thank you for taking care of me and for being here.”

You praised.

“Anything for you, baby. I’m always going to be here. You can count on that.”

He smiled into your hairline, continuing to stroke it and you felt immense peace. You couldn’t tell what had changed or why, but you believed him with every fiber of your being.

The next time you woke up, you were in Rafe’s arms, his soft snores infiltrating your ears and the aroma of the hospital room making its way into your nostrils. He had been at your beck and call for the last three days and he was tired, he needed the rest. You shifted your body, though careful not to move too quickly, afraid you’d wake him. Looking up at his sweet face, you traced your fingers down the bridge of his nose. How could one person be this perfect? You pondered. It was more than his chiseled jaw that you had always admired or his tan skin, he had begun to show you that he was a good man and that’s something you hadn’t seen in him in a long time, maybe ever. It made you love him in a way that you never had. A soft knock on the door took you out of your thoughts and you were praying to God that whoever it was wouldn’t wake up the giant man sleeping soundly next to you. Then, you saw brown hair with highlights peek through the crack of the door and you realized it was Topper. He peeked his head all the way through the door, and a bright smile littered his face. Kelce followed his lead, as he knocked softly again, making sure it was okay to come through the threshold of the hospital room.

“Knock, knock.”

He whispered and was surprised when he was met with your eyes instead of Rafe’s.

“Shh.”

You spoke, motioning your pointer finger to your lips in an attempt to keep him quiet. Seeing Rafe so still and soft, in an almost childlike state while sleeping was enough to make you swoon and you wanted him to stay this way as long as possible.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the one resting?”

Topper teased as he brought a balloon that read “it’s a girl!” to your bedside. It made you giggle.

“Sorry, they ran out of “Sorry you have diabetes” balloons.”

Kelce quipped. Your giggle was now a full-fledged belly laugh. "These two idiots!", you thought. As your laugh erupted from your stomach, Rafe began to stir, shifting his weight in the small bed. You lifted your hand, running your fingertips softly through the hair that was now hanging in his face. He nestled his face into your shoulder, curling his long legs into his stomach. There’s no way he’s comfortable, you thought. But you also didn’t have the heart to wake him.

“I want him to sleep as long as possible, he’s been up for days worrying about me.”

You spoke flatly and the boys understood the sentiment of your words. They cared deeply for both of you.

“When are they saying you’ll be able to go home?”

Kelce probed, wanting you to feel as normal as possible as soon as possible.

“This afternoon, I think.”

He placed his hand on your shoulder.

“That’s good, pretty girl. You know he’s not going to leave your side, right?”

You playfully rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, the same way you two were the last time.”

You joked.

“The last time you almost died. This isn’t that.”

Topper’s tone was cold and he didn’t mean it to be, but he didn’t understand your calm, cool, and collected nature when it came to such traumatic events with your health. The room grew eerily silent and you were the first to break it.

“Let’s not talk about that in front of Rafe, okay?”

Both boys simply nodded their heads in response, understanding of your wishes. Topper and Kelce stayed for about an hour before deciding to go. Rafe stirred awake not long after they had departed from the room.

“Pretty girl. What time is it?”

He asked, his eyes fluttering open to see yours staring up at him. His voice was gruff and sexy like only boys can be when they’ve first woken up.

“Well, good morning handsome. It’s 1pm.”

You responded with a light chuckle.

“Gosh, How long have I been asleep?”

“Since last night around 11.”

He nodded his head, his still sleepy response was noted by you.

“Did someone come to visit or did I dream about that?”

You giggled, placing your hand on his cheek softly, rubbing your thumb back and forth underneath his eye.

“It wasn't a dream, Topper and Kelce were here this morning.”

You whispered sweetly, bringing your hands up to his hair, stroking lightly.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he asked the question.

“You needed the sleep, Rafael. You’ve been awake, worrying about me for the last three days and that won’t do either of us any good.”

He brought your chin up with his thumb and pointer finger, wanting your eyes to meet his, and placed a kiss on your forehead.

“It’s my job to worry about you.”

You were discharged from the hospital not long after Rafe had woken up, which you kind of despised, you wished he would’ve stayed asleep and gotten as much rest as he needed. The past few days had taken a toll on him and they would have taken a toll on anybody. No one wakes up and expects the girl they love to have a seizure and be put in the hospital. He had never seen you this fragile and that thought alone ate him alive. He hated that he couldn’t do anything to protect you from this. This wasn’t some mouthy pogue or a handsy touron he could punch out and call it a day, nestling you safely into his arms after disposing of the threat. This was an illness, a disease, that no one had control over, that no one could predict and even the best safety measures couldn’t protect you from a failing insulin pump. That part of it destroyed him. But the part of it that didn’t was seeing you be strong through all of it. You made jokes at your own expense, which was how you coped. You had done that for years with a lot of things. You did it the day you got your braces on when you were afraid of how Rafe would perceive your new appearance. Spoiler alert: he thought you were beautiful. You did it when your grandma died and when your parents fought and even when JJ cheated on you. The only thing you had never done it about was Rafe. His absence was the only thing that hurt too bad to joke about. He admired the fact that you could joke about your illness and how annoyed you got when he fussed over you, especially today, as he was driving you to his house from the hospital. When they had wheeled you out of the front doors of the hospital, Rafe gently lifted your body with his strong arms and placed you into the passenger seat of his truck. He made sure you were comfortable before lacing his hands through the seatbelt, stretching it across your body and buckling you in, the familiar click as the extender and the buckle met filtering through the car.

“Rafe, I can buckle myself. My arms are in perfect working condition.”

You scoffed, his incessant need to take care of you getting on your nerves.

“I know you can. Just let me dote on you today, okay?”

His voice was almost pleading. You gave him a reassuring nod, knowing that this is what he needed at the moment, even if you didn’t. You smiled, you loved this soft side of him, but eventually, it'd have to stop. Diabetes was something you’d been dealing with on your own for years. You didn’t need the hovering or the constant worry from your brown-haired, blue-eyed lover. You needed him to know you were strong and capable, not this weak damsel in distress he thought you were. You decided you would give it a day and have a conversation with him if it hadn’t stopped by the end of the week. As he made sure you were okay, he made his way to the driver’s side and started the truck, heading for Tannyhill. Your parents were in Thailand for business and couldn’t get back in time for you to be discharged, which you were thankful for. You didn’t need the wrath of your father right now, your brain and body still too tired from the trauma they endured. Rafe had told your mother you could stay at Tannyhill until they got home, which would be a week from today and he couldn’t help but be excited at having you this close for this long. You fell asleep on the ride home to Rafe’s, the slinging of gravel under his tires making you stir, as he pulled to the front of the house. He quickly got out and made his way to your side of the car, opening your door and unbuckling you, before lifting you in his arms once more and carrying you inside. The shift in your surroundings made you groan.

“Mmmm.”

You grunted out, Rafe’s lips turned up in a smile.

“Hey, sweet girl, you’re okay. We’re home. I’m gonna take you to bed.”

He whispered in your ear.

“Mmmm, Rafey.”

You said it like his name was the yummiest thing your tongue had ever tasted, a sleepy smile plastered on your face. As he opened the door, you felt yourself wanting to fight, wanting to prove to him you could do it yourself, but your body was too tired to try and argue with the comforting embrace of the boy you loved. You took in the smell of him as you heard him telling his family not to talk above a whisper while making his way through the living room. He smelled like sea salt, whiskey, and expensive cologne - a familiar smell for many reasons, it reminded you of home, the island, the stupid pretentious parties, and the ocean you’d grown to love the sight of. However, it reminded you of home because he was stitched in every memory of you being in these places, in this atmosphere. The smell was bliss, the smell was Rafe.

“Please if you talk to her or around her, talk in a whisper. She’s got a concussion and ten stitches on her forehead. If she’s in a room, the lights need to be off, at least until tomorrow.”

Rafe whisper-yelled over your half-asleep form, to his family before walking up the stairs.

“Don’t worry, son. We got it. We’ve dealt with a concussion before.”

Ward giggled because his son had had six concussions in his football career, they knew very well how to take care of one, but Rafe’s protective nature shined through and allowed him to forget that. He loved that his son cared this deeply for another person, there was a time when he wondered if he ever would.

Rafe slowly but surely carried you up the stairs to his bedroom, laying you down in his usual resting place, which was the comfiest place on the mattress. He wanted you to be as comfortable as possible. Luckily, you were dressed in cozy clothes so he didn’t have to wake you. Instead, he brought the blankets under your chin and slid in next to you, falling asleep fast as he clung to your small frame.

When you woke the next morning, Rafe was no longer next to you, which made you curious, so you made your way out of bed and slowly peered down the hallway. There was no sign of him in the bathroom or any of the bedrooms upstairs. You peered eerily over the edge of the staircase banister, looking for any sign of him.

“Rafael”

You called out and he came barreling up the stairs from around the corner in the kitchen. You admired him in his domestic form, basketball shorts, t-shirt, and messy hair. A still sleepy smile danced across his face as he took in the sight of you. He hadn’t been awake very long.

“Pretty girl, good morning.”

He spoke with a smile, making his way up to you, and placing a kiss on your hairline.

“What are you doing out of bed?”

He questioned.

“I couldn’t find you”

You brought your lips to a pout and it sent a shiver down his spine. He loved that you wanted to be so close to him. You were enamored by everything that he was and you couldn’t get enough.

“You want some coffee? I made your favorite.”

You were confused. How could he possibly know what your favorite coffee is? You had been not speaking for the last two years, there was no way he had made you the right thing.

“Which would be what?”

You questioned, confusion lacing your face.

“White chocolate mocha with ½ and ½ instead of milk and an extra shot of white chocolate.”

“Rafe, how did you know?”

“I’ve just paid attention and it helps that you’ve had the same coffee order since we were 13.”

He joked and you gushed internally, your core became warm at his sentiment, leaving you flustered and on edge.

“Rafael, that’s so sweet, thank you.”

You whispered as you pulled him in for a tight hug.

“Let’s go downstairs and get you that coffee.”

He spoke sweetly and you followed him down the staircase. When you had made it to the kitchen, you noted that Rafe had all kinds of coffee and syrups lining the island, where he was topping your cup off with whipped cream. It was a surprise that Rafe was an actual coffee drinker, not a poser who orders the closest thing to a milkshake he can find at every coffee shop. Rafe pulled a barstool out for you to sit on from underneath the island and helped you onto it before sliding it close to the edge of the countertop.

“Rafael, when did you become such a coffee whore?”

You asked innocently, not realizing how funny the remark was. Rafe let out a belly laugh.

“Uh, my mom got me into drinking it right before she passed. It was something I clung to when she died. The warmth of a good cup of coffee reminds me of her hugs.”

He spoke with a smile.

“Well, now I feel like an asshole.”

You muttered, a grimace on your face.

“What do you mean? Why?”

“I thought you were going to have some douchey frat boy response. Like, you started drinking it to get a girl’s attention or something.”

Rafe chuckled at you being so taken aback by him.

“No, I’m not that guy anymore.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to see that.”

You mumbled what you thought was quietly, but evidently not quiet enough, as Rafe’s eyes went wide at your confession.

“Let me take you on a date today.”

He spoke softly, timidness dancing across his body language. You smiled at him brightly and when he looked at his feet, waiting for you to tell him no, you lifted his chin with your thumb and pointer finger.

“Hey, don’t do that.”

“Sorry-”

“No, I mean, don’t go to the bad place in your head. Everything’s fine, baby. I thought you’d never ask.”

He smiled as widely as he could.

“Okay, well let’s get some food in your stomach and then we’ll get ready and make a day out of it. Do you feel okay enough for that?”

“Yeah, I feel fine. But, what do you mean? Where are you taking me?”

You looked confused. You had never really been on a real date, JJ didn’t have very much money, which was never an issue for you. You didn’t mind paying for whatever the two of you did. But, even still he lacked romance and creativity. There was never a movie date or a day at the beach, just the two of you. It was all about the Pogues all the time and that was one of the many reasons you didn’t miss him.

“That I cannot reveal yet, sweetheart.”

He smiled cheekily and it made your heart warm. You were excited and you knew Rafe wasn’t going to disappoint. Rafe Cameron wasn’t known for romance, yet you believed he had something special up his sleeves. He made eggs, bacon, and toast with jelly, which was your favorite kind of breakfast. You appreciated how thoughtful he was. After you finished eating, he asked you to go get dressed and pack a bag.

“Did you get enough to eat, sweetheart?”

He questioned, always aware of the sugar demon that lived inside your bloodstream now. Apart from worrying about your sugar, he just wanted to make sure you were full, which you appreciated.

“Yes, Rafael. I’m full.”

You smiled in his direction, before hopping off the barstool and heading upstairs to take a shower, wanting to look your best for your date with him.

“Do you mind picking out my clothes since I’m not allowed to know what we’re doing?”

You questioned, turning around as you reached the bottom of the staircase, meeting his blue eyes that were boring into the back of your head already.

“Absolutely, sweetheart. I’d love to.”

He gave you a reassuring nod as you turned around and made your way up the staircase, smiling like an idiot over the fact that you caught him staring at you. As you reached the top of the stairs, you realized you were already winded and tired, an after effect of your recent health scare. You made your way into Rafe’s room, which had a connecting bathroom. You quickly grabbed your insulin and bath supplies, knowing you’d need to change your pump when you got out and made your way into the bathroom, where you stripped yourself of your clothes and turned on the water. You liked the water scalding hot, you always joked that you like to feel like you’re in the pits of hell until your shower is over and the cool air of the bathroom brushes up against your naked skin. You removed the old insulin pump, discarding it into the trash, and hopped in the shower. You didn’t waste much time, but you did let the hot water soothe your muscles for a bit before you washed your hair and body and it felt so good. When you were done, you exited the shower, grabbing Rafe’s towel from the drying rack and wrapping it around your body. You made your way into the bedroom, where you found a beautiful, white lace sundress with a note attached to it.

A beautiful dress for a beautiful girl. Saw this downtown last week and it reminded me of you. What a perfect day to wear it, yeah? I packed your bag with all the necessary snacks and medicine and put a bathing suit in there for you too. The white one-piece you wore on the druthers, it’s my favorite.

Rafael

You audibly gasped at how thoughtful Rafe had been and there you were, smiling like an idiot in the middle of his bedroom. You put on your bra and underwear and called his name, wanting him to come to help you with applying a new insulin pump. Today was as good a day as any for him to learn how to do it.

“Rafael!”

You bellowed out his name and he came up the stairs quickly, you could hear his feet hitting each mahogany panel. He knocked softly, not wanting to disturb you if you weren’t decent. You slowly slid the dress up your legs, so he could only see your bra.

“You can come in, I need your help.”

He swung the door open at that, afraid you were sick or in trouble in some other way. His eyes landed on you, sitting on his bed, with the dress he had bought you covering your bottom half, nothing but your bra covering your top.

“Woah.”

He whispered, a smirk tracing his lips.

“Easy, tiger. I need help with my pump. There’s no fire anywhere.”

You giggled softly at him. He looked so afraid when he swung the door open.

“Okay, pretty girl, tell me what to do.”

“I have everything ready. I just need you to plunge it into my skin, somewhere it won’t show in this dress.”

“Is your stomach okay?”

He questioned you, watching as you inserted the insulin into the pump and let it prime. As much as you wanted to tell him, no, to run, to scream, to hide - you couldn’t. Your stomach was the best place for the pump, but it was also a place you didn’t want Rafe to look at. Over the last two years, your stomach had become littered with scars from failed pump sites and it made you insecure about your body. This is why you stuck to one-piece bathing suits.

“U-uh, yeah.”

Rafe noticed the shift in your behavior and he didn’t take it lightly.

“Hey, pretty girl, what’s the matter?”

You stared down at him, as he was now rocking on the balls of his feet and squatted in front of you.

“It’s just, my stomach, it isn’t pretty anymore, okay?”

“What do you mean? Everything about you is pretty.”

“I have a lot of scars from my pump on my stomach. It’s probably better if I show you.”

He nodded gingerly and you delicately pushed the dress down to your hips, revealing the fullness of your tiny waist and belly. The scars that littered it were discolored, some black, and brown, and the oldest ones were white. Some were longer and larger than the others. You swallowed thickly as you watched Rafe’s blue eyes take in the tattered skin and you let a tear fall from your eye. You hoped he didn’t notice, but he did.

“Hey, this doesn’t change anything. Everybody has scars. It’s okay, baby.”

“I’m ugly, Rafe.”

“Believe me, darling, you are the furthest thing there ever was from ugly and a few scars won’t change my mind. I have scars too.”

“Y-you do?”

“Yeah, look, this is from that time you pushed me off my bike when we were seven. Remember I had all those stitches?”

He asked, pointing to his face, which he had landed on when he fell. You chuckled to yourself. He had pissed you off so bad that day when he wouldn’t let you play with his spiderman action figures.

“Yeah, I remember. Sorry, I was a bitch.”

You laughed and Rafe wiped some of the tears off your face.

“You’ve never been a bitch. I promise.”

You sniffled and smiled at him, thankful for his kind words.

“Everybody has scars, sweet girl. They make us who we are, they’re proof we’ve lived. You’ve just lived a lot of life.”

You hugged him tightly, his fingers tracing the skin of your bare back.

“Okay, pick a spot on my belly and stick it there.”

“How’s here?”

He asked, placing the pump close to your naval.

“That’s great. Just hold it there until you hear the click.”

He did as he was told, holding it until he heard the audible click of the needle going into your fragile skin. You grimaced.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”

His brows furrowed in concern.

“I’m okay, Rafael. It’s just the needle.”

Your response seemed to soothe him enough because the next thing you knew his hands had traveled to your hips and he began helping you pull the dress up over your middle and placed the straps securely on your shoulders. He turned you around to look in the mirror.

“How’s that, pretty girl? Do you like it?”

“I love it, Rafe. Thank you so much.”

Shortly after your bedroom excursion, you and Rafe were ready to go, you still clueless as to where he was taking you or what your date entailed. He led you outside to his truck, grabbing the bag he had packed for you and placing it on the backseat floorboard. When he opened the back passenger door, you noticed there was a picnic basket with pink tulips hanging out the side of it. They were your favorite flower, which Rafe definitely knew. You smirked at this small detail. So far he was blowing your expectations out of the water, which you had no doubt he would. He helped you into the passenger seat, buckling you yet again. You were starting to think this had less to do with your fragility and more to do with the fact that he just liked doing it.

You and Rafe quickly arrived downtown, walking around all your favorite boutiques and shops. As you walked down the cobblestone streets of Kildare, Rafe reached for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. You could’ve sworn you had died and gone to heaven. You had loved this boy as long as you could remember and even your wildest of fantasies would’ve never given you the idea he’d ever want you like this. You watched the ground as you walked, eyes on your feet and you felt his eyes boring a hole into the side of your head.

“It’s rude to stare, you know?”

You spoke freely, letting out a giggle and Rafe rolled his eyes playfully.

“I just wanted to look at you.”

He spoke softly.

“Why?”

“Cause you’re beautiful.”

He spoke with more fire this time, saying the words boldly, with purpose. He wasn’t trying to make a move, or get you to sleep with him, he just needed you to know and you sensed that he meant it.

“You make me feel good, Rafe.”

“Well, that’s kinda the whole point of this. If I’m ever not making you feel good, then that’s when we should reevaluate what we’re doing.”

You smiled at him and nodded, knowing he needed you to understand what he was saying, that’d you tell him if ever wasn’t making you feel good.

“You want some ice cream, beautiful?”

Your face lit up and Rafe giggled. You were always in the mood for ice cream, something he noted when you were thirteen. Every time he has ever asked if you wanted ice cream, your answer has been yes.

“You know I do.”

You snorted at his knowledge of you, at his ability to read you like a book. He nodded and you made your way into the ice cream shop. Rafe made you sit at a table while he ordered and when he brought you the ice cream you beamed up at him.

“Mint chocolate chip, you remembered!”

You exclaimed. It was like Rafe’s thoughts were consumed by you, it seemed he knew everything there was to know about you.

“I remember everything about you, honey.”

You blushed at his remark. You were thankful for this day with him. It was simple and domestic and freeing and you were just thankful.

“This has been fun, Rafael. Thank you.”

You smiled sweetly, meeting his blue eyes with yours, blushing again.

“You’re welcome, pretty girl. But, it’s not over yet. I have one more surprise for you.”

“What else could you possibly have up your sleeve?”

You questioned him with a belly laugh, thinking this sweet boy had already gone above and beyond for you. You both finished off your ice cream and Rafe led you back to the truck, following his routine of buckling you in before he made his way inside. He definitely liked doing it, no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it.

The ride was quiet and after fifteen minutes, he pulled into the public beach parking lot. He helped you out of the vehicle once again, grabbing the picnic basket, along with your bag of necessities, and placing it on his shoulders. He carried that bag as if his life depended on it. Once you made it down to the sand, he laid out the white knitted blanket he had brought with him and instructed you to sit down, while he unpacked the picnic basket.

“These are for you. I know they’re your favorite.”

Rafe spoke matter-of-factly, pulling the pink tulips out of the basket and handing them to you. Your smile was giddy and you couldn’t contain yourself. You’d jump his bones right here if you knew you wouldn’t get arrested.

“Rafe, these are so beautiful!”

You exclaimed, joy written on your features. He loved that look on you. The joy.

“I’m glad you like them.”

He giggled and put his arm around you, placing his hand on the other side of your hip in the sand.

“You just seem to know all my favorite things.”

Blush infiltrated the pores of your cheeks.

“It’s not hard if you pay attention.”

His words meant more to you than anyone’s ever had before, but the truth of them stung. This is what love is supposed to feel like, to be like and now you know why you didn’t miss JJ. Because he wasn’t the one and Rafe was. Rafe’s next line of questioning brought you out of your head.

“Are you hungry, sweet girl?”

He questioned with soft eyes.

“I could eat.”

You replied, a soft smile on your lips.

“PB & J or Turkey and Mayo?”

He asked, pulling two sandwiches out of the basket.

“PB & J.”

You replied.

He ever so slowly plated the sandwiches and put apple slices with caramel sauce beside them.

“Here you go, m’lady.”

“Rafe, this is so sweet.”

You gushed, heart almost bursting at the seams for the effort he put into this.

“Water or champagne?”

His line of questioning continued.

“Depends, what are we celebrating?”

“Just me, being here, with you.”

“Champagne it is then.”

Rafe took the two glasses out of the picnic basket, handing you yours to hold while he poured it. He looked up at your face, golden hour making the hues of orange, yellow, and pink dance across your face. He noticed something on your cheek, right near your lip - a scar, medium size, white in color, in a jagged line. His fingers traced over it as he finished pouring your beverage. You shied away from his touch.

“I’m sorry, angel.”

He looked defeated, afraid he had done the wrong thing. This perfect day, did he just fuck it up? He wondered.

“It’s okay. No worries.”

You smiled at him and leaned into him, placing your head on his shoulder.

“Can you tell me what that’s from?”

He asked. He needed to know at some point, you knew that. But, that didn’t mean the conversation would be easy or that he wouldn’t get angry.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know, Rafe.”

He was taken aback, what was so bad that you thought he wouldn’t want to know. He wanted to know about every scar that littered your body.

“Believe me when I say this, I most certainly do.”

You huffed, loudly.

“You promise you won’t get mad?”

“I promise, angel.”

Your vision clouded with unshed tears, you had never had to explain to him the abuse you face from JJ and it would never be easy to talk about.

“I-it’s from JJ.”

You let the words sit in the thick air between you and Rafe.

“What do you mean it’s from JJ?”

Rafe’s eyes were laced with bewilderment and confusion.

“F-from the first t-time.”

Your voice became shaky, weak.

“The first time for what, y/n?”

“The f-first time he punched me in the f-face.”

“What the fuck did you just say?! He punched you in the face?!”

Rafe questioned, a fire in his eyes that you’d never seen before.

“Y-you said you wouldn’t get mad.”

Rafe looked up at you, tears falling freely down your face.

“Hey, hey, I’m not mad, baby. Come here.”

He reached out for you and lunged for him, clinging as tightly as you could to his middle, crying into his button-down.

“Tell me what happened, angel. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’d never hurt you. I’d never dream of putting my hands on you, of hurting you.”

He rocked you back and forth, peppering kisses into your hairline. Waiting until your breathing had become normal before he stopped, just sitting with his chin on top of your head.

“He abused me the entire year we were together. It started when I told him I wasn’t ready to lose my virginity, that I was saving it for the right person.”

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

“The first time he hit me, I still had braces on my teeth. Cut right through my cheek, that’s what the scar is from. I had to get 7 stitches.”

He didn’t say anything, mostly because he knew that there was nothing he could say to make it better. He just squeezed you tighter and wondered how the fuck he was going to kill JJ Maybank.

“Listen, angel, I don’t want you working at the club with him.”

Rafe’s tone revealed how uneasy he truly was.”

“I know. The first day you came to see me at work, he showed up that night. Told me to remember who I belonged to. I haven’t felt safe without you there, ever since.”

“Baby, let me talk to dad and see how serious he is about wanting you to come work for him.”

“You’d do that?”

You looked up at him, shocked he would help you find work elsewhere when he didn’t have to. It wasn’t his responsibility.

“You have no idea the things I’d do for you, sweet girl.”

The words were heavy and somehow you knew he meant every single one.

taglist:

@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey @yagirlwrites @obxbabygirl @rafeecameronsbitch @klutzy-kay24 @roseczbalt

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron prompt #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafecore #proclivity #proclivity rafe #ex bff!rafe x diabetic!reader

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fortunxa · 3 days ago

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I gave myself some time to think after watching act III, and I can finally share my thoughts. Let me break it down episode by episode so it’s more coherent because I’m itching to talk about it. Buckle up because this won’t be short.

cw: mentions of sh, depression, borderline personality disorder, suicidal tendencies

episode 7 — Pretend Like It’s the First Time

This whole episode felt like pure fanfiction and fan service, and I genuinely can’t believe how Timebomb shippers are still standing after this. Throughout this whole episode, it’s been clearly shown how Ekko will only accept one version of Jinx—the easy to digest one. The one that hasn’t been traumatized. How can someone call it love? Love isn’t picking and choosing what you accept, you either love the whole person or you don’t. Alternate universe Powder is the epitome of the manic pixie dream girl archetype for the current timeline Ekko. Would Timebomb work in that alternate universe? Sure, but that’s because it’s their reality. They don’t know anything else—Powder doesn’t become the Jinx we know now. Alternate universe Ekko isn’t faced with Jinx’s mental health problems—he has nothing to pick and choose from.

Do I hate Ekko? No, I actually like his character, but he’s torn between reality and fantasy. Can I blame him? Also no, because we’ve seen his childhood. We can only imagine what damage losing everyone he loved and cared about at such a young age (and so suddenly) did to him mentally. I can’t fault him for holding onto the past (even if he denies doing so), but it is an issue that stands in the way of current timeline Timebomb.

To him, there’s only Powder or Jinx, but she’s so much more complex than that. It’s been shown repeatedly how Jinx is a part of Powder (the whole act I of season 1), and how Powder is still a part of Jinx (until the very end, no matter how hard she tried to get rid of her).

BONUS: The necklace Powder has speaks for itself. A blue rose represents, and I quote, “Unrequited love, a longing for the impossible. A yearning for someone out of reach or a relationship that cannot be fully realized.” Both Ekko’s and Powder’s side profiles aren’t on the same side of the necklace to begin with. They only merge once she spins it.

BONUS 2: Other than “Ma meilleure ennemie” by Stromae & Pomme being an absolute bop, some of you simply didn’t translate it, and it shows. Here are some highlights, specifically Pomme’s lyrics (clearly depicting Jinx):

episode 8 — Killing Is a Cycle

The episode that started to break me. We see Jinx, absolutely drained, sitting in that cell because Isha’s death was her breaking point. No one and I mean no one, showed that girl the love and acceptance she needed and deserved other than Isha. Not Silco, not Vi, not Ekko. Building that beautiful storyline for two acts straight just to rip it away from her in such a traumatizing way—a parallel to the explosion at the warehouse, too? Wow. They were setting the stage for Jinx’s breakdown since the very beginning of this season. Making us watch the hope in her bloom, find something (or someone in this case) worth living for again, be loved and accepted for who she is just to watch it all burn and leave her with nothing again—pure evil.

“I didn’t know your mom was there.” Can you hear my heart breaking even further? That brings me to my next point: Jinx in relation to Caitvi.

After watching all of what Caitlyn did this season, not only to the city but to Vi, and then still believing Caitvi is healthy? Are we watching the same show? Season 1 Caitvi stood a chance, but this? So shallow and underdeveloped. Cait became a whole dictator. She was Vi’s breaking point, too, and the reason why she hit rock bottom in the first place. Jinx saw that firsthand, and she still thinks she’s the one standing in the way of Vi’s happiness? The only person standing in the way of that is Caitlyn herself, who isn’t even being held accountable for her actions whatsoever at any point. “We can’t erase our mistakes.” but we clearly can pretend they never happened, right?

“She’s being held in the bunker while I decide what to do.” What exactly did Cait expect from that? Telling Vi, her apparent love interest—who knows what it’s like to suffer in prison, not even physically but straight up mentally—that she’s keeping her mentally ill little sister in a cell while she decides what to do? What’s there to decide? And who are you to decide?

“I’m giving you this one chance to account for your actions, all the pain you’ve caused.” Is this projecting I hear from Cait? Can’t even tell since she never did what she’s expecting from Jinx, having done far worse things than her by that point. She let martial law take place for fuck’s sake. She used the grey to gas the Undercity (which still boggles me that Vi agreed to it). She was ready to risk Isha’s safety (a CHILD) just to get to Jinx.

BONUS (while I’m at it): Caitlyn would’ve missed the final shot, no matter how much she believed that she wouldn’t. She missed the shot twice right before that: first, when she shot Jinx’s finger off, and second, when she accidentally shot at Vi. They gave us this shot of Cait looking crazed out for a reason. She was losing her mind.

She was blinded by grief, yes, but I was waiting for the moment where she finally admits to her wrongdoings (other than screaming “I know!” while tossing a boat figurine, that is). “No amount of good deeds can undo our crimes.” Sure, and a lousy sex scene can?

Let’s talk about it.

When Jinx leaves Vi in the cell, she’s clearly suicidal and mentally unwell—even more than what we’ve seen from her so far. The dialogue they gave her, again, making her believe that she was the issue all along was just heartbreaking to hear. Yes, it’s Jinx’s perception of herself, going back to her believing she’s a jinx and how everyone close to her dies, but that perception of herself shifted when Isha came into the picture. And like I said, they took that away, so going back to the topic at hand.

Vi just being ready to hear another ‘I told you so’ from Caitlyn when she finds her, and then they just end up having “sex” (or actually, just giving Cait the pleasure Vi deserved instead after everything she put her through). We’ve seen crumbs of unsatisfying communication between them about what happened, and that sex scene in the cell was the last straw for me at this point. What do you mean Vi saw her suicidal sister sitting in that very same cell (starving and self-harming herself, may I add) and instead of running after her, she pounces on Cait?

“But the parallel to their first meeting back in s1!” I don’t care. That’s just fucked up to witness. In what world would Vi—who swears to care about her family—do that? We see her as this family-oriented person, who doesn’t give up on Jinx despite it all, and this was just so out of character in the name of fan service.

episode 9 — The Dirt Under Your Nails

Starting off strong, we see depressed and suicidal Jinx right off the bat. How did Ekko manage to get through to her? Well, it’s not like he would’ve stopped either way. He would’ve kept using his z-drive over and over again until he finally got it right.

What do we gain from that? Hopeful Jinx again, yippee! Wrong. She’s back for her sister, and it’s beautiful to witness. “I’m always with you. Even when we’re worlds apart.” Fighting with and for her, ready to die for her—we saw time and time again how Jinx was never the true jinx she believed she was. She managed to fix things with Vi—and even Ekko at this point—and managed to find and bring joy. That was the true ending both sisters deserved.

What do we get instead? Implying that Jinx sacrifices herself for Vi. Other than the pure rollercoaster of emotions they put Jinx through, making a suicidal character kill themselves (or even implying so) is just plain insensitive. What message does that send? As I said in a comment section, the writers aren’t blind, and they’re not dumb either. They know how many mentally ill fans Jinx herself has. As someone who struggles with bpd too, I related to her character in so many ways. More than I’m willing to share in this post, so that finale just left a bitter taste in my mouth. Speaking with other people who are struggling with their mental health helped me see that I wasn’t the only one affected by it. Quoting my friend: “We need to normalize considering the effects of the narrative on the fans.” And this isn’t to say that every suicidal character should magically get better, this isn’t how the real world works. But Jinx’s storyline had no reason to end on that note by that point. Forced and rushed.

Dead or runaway, leaving her with the “everybody’s better off without me” narrative was just the wrong way to go about it. Plain and simple. It was rubbing salt into the wound, spitting in the face of her development. They decided to end the show with an underdeveloped Caitvi “endgame” when they spent all this time developing Jinx’s arc. And all of this for what? Such a disappointing way to wrap things up, with literal crumbs as hints that maybe she’s still alive.

And the bitter cherry on top of Caitvi’s messy relationship this season, other than the complete lack of communication—Vi comparing herself to the dirt under Cait’s nails. What a cute (not really) way to remind us of their differences and Piltover’s stance on Zaun for the majority of the show—seen as nothing more than dirt. When Sevika joins the Council after the war, she’s still being looked down on. This just makes me sick.

BONUS: No mentions of Isha in Act III was pure evil (no, the paint on Jinx’s new outfit, the bunny ears on the balloon or even Isha’s doll were not enough. I wanted her death to be properly acknowledged. No, I don’t think it was too much to ask for). We got this beautiful found family arc between her, Jinx, and Sevika, only for it to be completely forgotten the moment Jinx reconciles with Vi.

BONUS 2: Jayce and Viktor were the perfect example of bromance. A friendship between two men can be gentle, affectionate, and loving without them being gay. No need for the ship, but I guess that’s the least of my worries.

BONUS 3: If anyone brings up the “beauty in imperfections” monologue to defend the ending, know that I’m not listening. They had such a beautiful show going for so long. Imperfections aren’t the problem here, it’s the plain disappointment.

EDIT BONUS 4: Singed out of all people getting a happy ending was so disrespectful. What a cockroach that man is. Nothing and no one can get rid of him.

Media literacy is important. Thanks for coming to my rant.

disclaimer: this isn’t me saying that the entire season was bad. But damn, do better.

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bananayuyu · 19 hours ago

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all tied up {part 2}

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: angst, eventual smut

Word count: 11.9k

Summary: You never thought you'd have such an awful rivalry with a coworker. How is he so mean, so petty, so under your skin...?

Warnings: smut, MDNI, mentions of reader wanting to die and past traumas, dub con/non con, reader is physically bound against her will, mean yunho, nipple play, fingering, unprotected penetration, after care of sorts

A/n: I hope you all enjoy the depravity! (and again please read the warnings and don't read this if you aren't in the right headspace <3)

Read part 1 here

Read it on ao3

That toe box. That stupid fucking toe box…

"YUNHO, LET ME GO!!" you scream, punching a hand into his side and making him sag ever so slightly.

"Fucking hell, give me a second," he replies, finally slinging you back over his shoulder to your feet.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!" you scream, shoving him as hard as you can, and he rocks back onto his other foot, destabilized only for a second.

"Calm down, Jesus Christ," he snaps, and you move to dart around him, towards the front door you were just dragged through. He's too quick though and grabs you by the arm, your shoulder crashing into the wall as he awkwardly halts your movements. "Y/n, seriously, calm the fuck down." His tone is harsh, low and demanding, and the turn of events has so shocked you, you feel like you might puke.

"You just kidnapped me, and you're telling me to calm down??" you spit, your shoulder stinging from the impact of the wall.

"I saved you from that horrible weather, actually. Not safe for a girl like you to be out there right now," he replies, a chilling smirk on his lips.

"Oh fuck off, you fucking creep," you mutter, desperately trying to free your arm from his grasp.

"Listen I know it's a bit extreme, but you kept ignoring me, and I want to talk. So I did what I had to do, to make that happen," he replies, his voice uncomfortably smooth.

"Yunji is right, you're a fucking sociopath," you respond, eyeing him sharply.

"Yunji?" he asks, his eyebrows cocked.

"Yunji, my best friend, my roommate, who will be very concerned if I don't return home soon. So you'd better fucking let me go, if you don't want the police called," you say, words fiery and sharp as they exit your mouth.

"Why don't you text her and let you know you got caught in the storm, and a kind neighbor let you into their place for protection," he smiles, shaking his head at you like you're dumb.

"Fuck you, fuck offf," you mutter as you knee him hard in the side, managing to pull your arm free for a moment and stumbling towards his front door once again. But again somehow he's faster than you, despite the wind being slightly knocked out of him, and he puts himself between you and the door with a loud slam, your body smashing into his, hard. His right hand moves behind him to slide closed the deadbolt, his broad frame guarding the door, creating a barrier you certainly won't be able to break through.

"You're making this very difficult, y/n," he scolds, shaking his head again.

"ME?? I'M MAKING THIS DIFFICULT??" you scream, falling to the floor in desperation, your mind running out of ideas. The only one that's left is his backdoor, which you know is likely to be locked; but you realize it's truly your last hope, your only remaining option. With a sharp inhale you steady yourself, launching down a hallway you see that leads in that general direction, turning the corner abruptly when you hit a wall, seeing another hallway branching off with more doors leading to other rooms. You continue down this hallway too, even though it's running towards the side of the house, because you really don't have another choice and have no idea where any of these doors might lead you. You're running hard, as hard as you can, bumping into walls and nearly stumbling over a slight blip in the old hardwood floor, catching yourself in time to keep running. You round another corner into what looks like a den, and then you spot it, sliding glass doors that lead to his backyard. You're almost there, your legs only propelled by your adrenaline, and you know he's hot on your trail, his hard footsteps echoing ominously behind you. Sliding the door will open will be awkward, you know that, but you have to try-

You're grabbed again, this time tackled to the ground, a hand coming around your ankle and holding it tight as you flail your other leg, making contact with some part of Yunho's body. Your huge winter coat is making it hard to move around on the floor, your body limited by the layers of clothing and the crumpled position you're currently pinned in.

"Yunho, please, just fucking let me go," you beg, your throat hoarse from your screaming earlier, your lungs lacking capacity from your running. "I promise, I'll talk to you tomorrow, I promise, just please, let me go, please, please." You sound so pathetic, so scared, because you are. You've never felt like this, scared for your life and unsure you'll make it through the rest of the day alive.

"Don't make promises you can't fucking keep," Yunho grumbles, moving on top of you to pin you even tighter, both of your legs awkwardly bent under his and your upper body held down by his arms. His face is only inches from yours now, closer than it's ever been, and you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to see what you know is a horrifying look in his eyes.

"No I'm serious, I will talk to you, I promise, I-"

"No you won't. I know you fucking won't," he spits, adjusting his grip on your arms as if he's trying to remind you how trapped you are. "You'd make your mind up, hadn't you? You'd decided you'd much rather we both lose our jobs than you having to speak to me again. You were gonna give up. You weren't going to talk to me tomorrow, or the next day, or ever. If I let you go now, that wouldn't fucking change. Don't lie to me, y/n. I'm not stupid."

Your snarky reply gets lost in your throat, because the way he's read you so easily is utterly disturbing.

"What, are you shocked that I'm right? You're not that hard to read, doll," he continues, chuckling deeply. But I am, to everyone else, you think. You've always been able to hide your intentions easily. Your side is starting to throb, his elbow digging into your ribs, and his words have lit another fire in you, one that comes from the visceral fear that's consuming you.

You snap your head up and bite hard on his shoulder, the only part of him other than his face that you can reach. You're more forceful than even you expect, immediately tasting blood, and it makes you bite even harder, Yunho letting out a sudden cry of pain.

"Fuck, you fucking bi-"

You cut him off with a knee to the groin, the pain from your bite having loosened his nerve enough for you to do so. It weakens him even more, and you're able to move your hips out from under him, painfully wrenching yourself free from his grasp and doing anything you can to inflict pain on his perfect body. You can feel it now that he's on top of you, the curves and lines and hints of lean muscle, and it pisses you off all over again. You're clawing at him, scratching and biting and kicking every which way. His breath is knocked out of him so you both are just breathing heavily, his body grunting with every painful blow, your own voice erupting in a growl when you finally free yourself from him and manage to miraculously make it to your feet.

You're running back the way you came now, back towards the front door which you know how to unlock, a cramp forming sharp in your side from the exertion. You hear his footsteps behind you again, and you know it's a last-ditch effort, but you try with all your might to run as fast as you possibly can. Suddenly you feel your left arm tugged back, your body jolting awkwardly as he makes contact with you, but he's only able to get a good hold on the sleeve of your coat, which now is painfully snaking down your arm and falling off your shoulder. You wrench your arm free from it, spinning to free your other arm too, feeling unburdened now without your coat and able to sprint fast again. As you round the corner you see the front door, the dark stained wood ominous, a warning against entering. Or leaving, you suppose. The whole house is dark, little light coming in from the windows because of the now raging storm, and for the first moment since you've entered Yunho's house you notice a bright flash that must be lightning, followed by a loud rumble of thunder. You know it should be louder, it sounded mere moments after the flash meaning the strike was somewhere nearby, but the snow is just that thick right now, even the deafening sound got lost in it. You wonder if you'll even be able to open the door against the winds and what must be harsh rain, and tears start coming fast down your cheeks as your fears reach new heights. Even if you make it out of here you've got the elements to deal with, and suddenly storming out that door doesn't sound so good. For a brief moment it's almost like you're begging for it, begging for him to grab you again so you don't have to face the reality outside.

Even if it'd only been a passing thought, Yunho answers your sadistic prayer, finally making contact with you again when you're only five feet from the door, his hand crushing as it grips down on your upper arm. You shriek, your shoulder screaming so severely in pain you're worried he's dislocated it. You both awkwardly crash towards the ground again, Yunho coming to his knees as he tries to prevent the fall, your legs sweeping out from under you as you lose your balance. You're still fighting fiercely, and you feel ridiculous for wishing for this now. You'd give anything to be in that fierce, terrifying storm right now, instead of being dragged by your arm and your hair down his hallway, making dents in the walls with your feet as you struggle against his firm grip.

"You're making this really fucking difficult, y/n," he growls, breathing hard from carrying the weight of an entire human down his short hallway. "I don't think you realize how true that is." You're still screaming in pain, tears streaming down your face in waves now as the follicles of your hair are nearly ripped out. "We could have done this another way, but you just had to fucking fight me, as always. I should have known you'd pull some shit like this," he spits, his voice low. You have no idea where you're going, your vision clouded with your tears. Eventually you year a door knob turned, Yunho yanking you hard and turning you around, your legs catching painfully underneath you.

"Ah!" you scream in pain, using your free hand to wipe the tears and snot from your face and finally try to get a good look around you.

"Shut up, this is your fault," he responds, his tone cold in that way that it so often is. It feels so weird to be with him outside of work, the feeling hitting you suddenly as you're finally able to get a glimpse of him; turning your head you see a desk, a dresser, a closet door...

You can only see a glimpse of his bed when you turn to the side, but it's enough to confirm you're in his bedroom. It adds to the fear in you, that you're both in the place he feels most comfortable, that he's confident enough to show you his place of rest. Is he going to kill you? You really wouldn't have pegged him as the type, even if he was an asshole at work; your jokes with Yunji about him being sociopathic were hyperbole, at the time, at least.

"Are you going to kill me?" you ask, finding a strength within yourself that surprises you.

"No," he grunts, his body pinning you down as he reaches under his bed, the position twisting his torso and making his breathing uneven.

"Then what the hell are you doing?" you ask, trying to even out your breathing yourself. Your lungs feel exhausted from screaming, but at least now he isn't dragging you by your hair, so your scalp is getting a break from the severe pain. He doesn't answer you, shoving his arm further under, and then in a flash you see what he's pulled out, in moments feeling it against the skin of your left wrist.

The black rope is even and soft, clearly made for use in the bedroom. It would make you laugh, cause you to poke fun at him, normally, but in this instance your blood runs cold as you feel him forcefully anchor the wrist in place, tying it to something behind you in a way that makes it totally immovable. You struggle against him as he reaches for your other arm, but with the way he has you pinned there's only one outcome to this, and soon your other wrist is being tied down too, right next to your first one. You're well and truly trapped now, not able to move your arms at all, and with them tied behind your back it's hard to move the rest of your upper body.

With another grunt Yunho finishes securing his knots, your arms tied to one of his bed posts, your legs awkwardly folded under you. You look so pathetic and vulnerable in this state, and it makes him feel things he knows he shouldn’t, something that makes his pants feel tighter than they should. Your whole face is a mess from crying, your hair disheveled and tangly; he's never seen you in such a state, so messed up and powerless and ragged.

"Well, here we are," he says, standing up and walking back to the entrance of his room, putting several feet between you as he stares you down, arms crossed.

"What do you want?" you snap, frustrated and disgusted that you can't wipe the small trail of snot that's currently leaving your nose.

"I just want to talk, y/n. I'm not planning on killing you, I'm not that kind of person. I can't believe you'd even ask that," he responds, looking at you sternly.

"YOU FUCKING TIED ME UP, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO THINK?!!" you scream, your body lurching forward with the force of your words. The binding on your wrists squeezes painfully when you do so, and your face scrunches up in agony for a moment, as you set yourself back in place in a slightly more comfortable position.

"May I remind you again, this is all your own fault. You wouldn't talk to me, and like I said, I'm not giving up on this job easily. So tell me, why do you hate me so much?" he asks you, narrowing his eyes and crossing one foot in front of the other in a casual, confident stance.

"Cause you're an asshole??" you say, narrowing your eyes back at him, cocking your head to the side.

"And you're not?" he asks, smirking.

"You know I'm not," you growl, eyebrows furrowed together deeply. "You fucking know I'm not, I'm a fucking angel, actually, and everyone in that damn office loves me, and I never start shit with anyone. You know damn well that you started this, you did, you like messing with me and seeing me suffer, it must be entertaining to you cause your life is so fucking stuffy and perfect and boring. I mean those fucking suits you wear, to our simple little government-funded office. Where do you get off dressing like that??"

"I could ask you the same thing," he quips, raising his eyebrows momentarily. You eye him sharply, the question in your gaze obvious. "Your clothes, y/n, I can't believe Mr. Kangsoo lets you wear skirts that short in the office. Or tight shirts with no bra."

"He's probably never even thought about it, because he's never sexualized me like a fucking creep," you respond, face flushed from the idea that Yunho was looking at you like that for all of these months. It's mortifying, horrifying, and makes you feel suddenly so sick in your body, like you wish you could jump out of it. But you also can't deny that you've looked at him that way too, that the suits do it for you in a way that's almost embarrassing.

"I'm not a creep, I've just never had a boss who allows that," he says, sighing. "I can't deny that it's distracting." The words shutter through you, adding to the sick feeling growing in your low gut. It makes tears form in your eyes again too, from how humiliated you feel by his admission, that every day in the office when he was tormenting you, he was also gawking over your body in this way.

"You're so fucking gross," you mutter, looking at the ground in front of you, adjusting yourself again as your legs begin to ache from the position you're sitting in.

"What else do you think of me?" he prompts, loving to watch you squirm around in clear discomfort on the floor.

"I'm- this is so fucking disturbing Yunho, you're- I'm gonna-" you stop yourself from saying 'report this to the police,' because that visceral fear that he might kill you is still there. Even if he isn't planning on doing it, you don't want to say or do anything that might motivate him to, so you let the words die on your tongue, awkwardly huffing out the breath you'd just taken. Your gaze jumps around, but finds his face again fast, your mind working hard to try to understand what the hell is happening. Does he really just want to talk? Everything he's done seems too severe to be justified by just that, but you've found him hard to read since you met him. As you gaze at his face you see a smile on his lips, a smile that's revealed a small dimple on his left cheek and almost looks sweet. "Why the hell are you smiling?" you snap, your look severe and threatening.

"I'm just glad we're finally talking," he sighs, crossing his feet in the opposite direction. You just fix with him with a look of disgust, not wanting to speak anymore if that's truly what's bringing him joy in this moment. He knows saying that will shut you up for a bit, but he's okay with that, having things of his own that he needs to get off his chest. Now that the two of you are finally alone, away from the office, he can say the things that he's wondered for months.

"Y/n, can I ask you a question?" he starts, but he doesn't wait for an answer before barreling on. "Did you get into our field because you yourself deal with mental health issues, or have some big trauma from your past? I only ask, because, well, everyone at my last office fit that description, and I'm pretty sure everyone at our's does too, even Jongho. Everyone had to go to therapy as a kid, or in college cause of severe anxiety, and that's what led them to wanting to work in this field. Am I right, that that's true for you too?"

Your eyes remain fixed on him but you don't move your head for a second, not nodding or shaking it in an answer. The glassiness that forms in your eyes, though, is impossible to cover up, and Yunho can see from the tears starting to form that he's entirely, absolutely correct.

"You're very neurotic, do you know that?" he continues, and his question almost sounds genuine. "I mean, me hiding your favorite mug has you angry enough to slam the dishwasher closed? That mug isn't even yours, it's a part of the set that Dr. Acharya got the office two years ago as a Christmas present, meaning it belongs to everyone at the office. At least, that's what you told me my first day. Sure, everyone has their favorite mugs, but no one is as obsessively possessive about it as you are. The littlest things set you off, stuff that shouldn't even affect you. What does it matter that I hid the mug? Who the fuck cares what mug you use? You dropped Jongho's favorite mug two months ago and it smashed everywhere, and he didn't freak out about it. He just started using a different one. Did you even know that was his favorite one? No, because he didn't insist on using it every day. Do you realize how ridiculous all of your little routines and patterns are? It's like if everything doesn't go exactly how you want it to, you'll die."

"No, that's you," you sob, his words pulling emotions out of you that you can't even describe. He's the rich spoiled boy, he's the one who's never been told no in his life. He's the one who can't take disturbance to his needs, not you, not you, not me...

Your gut roils at his insult, and you realize in an instant that he's absolutely right, and that probably everyone at the office has thought that about you for years, but tolerated it anyway. Tears flow down your cheeks fast, and god you wish you could somehow wriggle your arms free, and punch that pretty face of his to make him shut up.

"That's not me, actually. I do just fine dealing with whatever comes up at the office each day. I can even handle our arguments just fine, and don’t walk around with a scowl on my face all day. You know everyone is fucking scared to talk to you when you do that, right?"

"Shut up, shut up!!" you scream, the pain in your head growing the more you think about all your failings, all the ways you've fucked up in the last six months. That awful feeling of shame you were so scared to face earlier is hitting you now, and just like you thought, the pain is so bad that you don't think you're going to come out the other side of it alive.

"Don't tell me to shut up just cause I'm right, y/n. Fucking listen and take accountability for once," he snaps, his face more like anger now that you're yelling at him again, instead of just talking. "I don't think you understand how easy it's been for me to read you, since the moment I started at that job. Am I wrong for liking it when something I do pisses you off? Maybe, I can't help that it's fun. I could see this whole conflict unfolding from the first day you turned cold with me, and I knew that there wasn't a fucking thing I could do to stop that. So I thought I'd just let it happen, and try my best to enjoy the ride. I can't change the fact that you're so caught up in your own head that you ca-"

"AAHHHHHHHH!!!!" you scream, just to drown out the noise, just to make the pain in your head stop. The scream is guttural, loud and painful as it exits your throat, but you keep screaming until your lungs are empty because the relief it's providing you is at least something. When you run out of air you take another ragged breath in and then you scream again, this time the sound harsher, your throat struggling to handle it. Tears are forming and streaming down your face faster than they ever have, and your body jerks against the ropes on your wrists, as you try to muster all your strength and somehow finally break free. Unable to do so, you scream again, eyes closed as you heave from the pain, your skin no doubt damaged from rope burn.

"Y/n, y/n, calm down," you hear, Yunho's voice soft and close to you. A hand comes to brush the tears from your cheek, but you jerk away violently, your wrists snagging painfully on the rope at a different angle this time.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" you cry, but it comes out softer than intended because your throat is already so worn, and you cough hard on your next inhale.

"Y/n, seriously, take a deep breath, stop," Yunho says, backing up slightly and not touching you again, but still sitting himself close enough to you that you can feel his presence, feel the warmth radiating off his body. The shock of it makes you realize just how cold you are, only a thin long sleeve shirt on now that your coat has been discarded somewhere in the hall.

"SHUT UP, GET THE FUCK AWAY!!" you cry again, wincing hard from the pain in our throat, your breaths ragged as you try to recover from the pain and ready yourself to scream again.

"Y/n..." he warns, but you just scream again, so entirely afraid of the feelings inside that you can't think to do anything else. "I SAID, STOP!" he finally yells, and the force of it is so strong that it nearly knocks you back, all the breath in your lungs leaving immediately.

You stare at him wide eyed, seeing now that he's crouched down on the floor, about five feet from you. The fear is evident in your gaze, and so is the fact that you're holding your breath and you have absolutely no idea.

"You should breathe, you know," he says, his voice suddenly back to the neutral tone of earlier. You snap back into your body for a moment, shakily taking in the breath your lungs were crying for, and you notice you're shaking, aches and pains searing through almost every part of you. "You don't know what's good for you, do you?" he continues, coming to sit cross legged in front of you, his arms resting on his legs and his hands clasped together. You wriggle in front of him, wincing as you try to move your aching leg to a more comfortable position. You struggle to find it, getting stuck in a spot that's even worse, and you sigh in frustration. "Just sit cross-legged, it'll be more comfortable," he sighs, moving forward towards you, with his hands outstretched. You lurch away from his touch again, and he sits back down, sighing harder. "I was going to help you change your sitting position, cause I know it's hard to do with your arms bound," he says, and you don't have time to wonder why he knows that. You stare back with a hardened gaze, eyes piercing daggers into him. "Will you let me help you?" he asks, and it's the first time all conversation that his tone has changed in that way; it's softer, warmer, and for a moment makes your chest flutter. You don't answer him again, you just stare and stare and try to make sense of his words, but somehow he can tell you won't fight him now, and he moves forward to help you, holding your body up just enough so you can swing your legs under you in this different way.

Once you're sitting you do feel relief, your knees thanking you now that they aren't bearing the majority of your weight, your ankles thankful that they're resting at a much more natural angle.

"You need to stop fighting me, and fighting those ropes, or you're just gonna keep hurting yourself," he says, voice calm.

"I didn't fucking agree to this!" you snap, your changing feelings giving you whiplash. "You've tied me up against my will, Yunho, or did you somehow forget? This isn't some cute little scene I agreed to, you forced this on me!" you yell, trying hard to be forceful without hurting your throat again.

"And it's going to be good for you in the long run, if you'd just relax and stop fighting me. Have you considered that maybe I know what's best?" He quirks a brow, eyeing you now from only two feet away, that heat still radiating off of him. Noticing it again you begin to shiver, your body shaking involuntarily. Your muscles feel tight and painful from the restriction, and the cold isn't helping one bit.

"How the fuck is tying me up against my will good for me?" you spit, leaning forward every so slightly now that you can.

"I know you don't want to lose that job," he says, eyeing you intensely, his gaze boring into you. "I know that job means everything to you. And I know that if I didn't intervene, you would have lost it. You were too scared to come talk to me. You were never going to admit to your part in our arguments, to your fault. You clearly have too much pride to admit any wrongdoing, almost ever."

It really is sick how right he is about everything, and you begin to wonder if he somehow can read minds.

"Listen, I will let you go later, you have my word. I'm not gonna kill you. But I'm pretty sure this is the only way I could ever get you to apologize to me, and without doing that, we would never be able to resolve this." His eyes still haven't left yours, and this close you can see the details of his iris, the stubble on his cheeks and chin, and the small birth mark on the side of his jaw. It makes you sick, he makes you sick, every little perfect thing about him.

"Look, I'll start. I'm sorry for hiding your mug, I'm sorry for leaving you little notes, which were really just jokes but I know you took them offensively, I'm sorry for being hard on you in the admin meetings. I'm sorry for pissing you off and finding it funny. None of that was cool."

"That wasn't a very good apology," you retort, rolling your eyes.

"Still better than no apology at all," he replies, and you can't help but roll them again. "Did you hear what I said earlier, when you were screaming?" he asks, and you shake your head. "I was saying, I think you were so caught up in your head and convinced that I was out to get you, that you didn't realize in all those little notes I was trying to let you know that I like you."

"You have a funny way of showing it," you say, huffing in anger.

"Was it not obvious?" he asks.

"Was what not obvious?"

"That I like you."

"You insulted me in every single one!"

"I called you pretty in every single one."

"Yeah, in an insulting, 'you're pretty and stupid and don't know shit' kind of way."

"I never meant it like that. That was your interpr-"

"Sure." You roll your eyes hard again, sighing in exasperation.

"Don't interrupt me," he retorts, eyes hard.

"I'll do what I fucking want," you reply, exhausted by the conversation now, losing control of yourself.

"I think you're forgetting how vulnerable you are right now," he responds, scooting forward enough so that he can reach behind you and tug on the ropes, both checking that they're still secured and reminding you just how trapped you are.

I don't care anymore, you think, dropping your head, and it almost feels like your body has given in now. It's not that the fight is gone, but something about the change in position has your body relaxed, now that no part of you is actively getting hurt by your sitting position.

"What was that?" Yunho asks, his voice soft.

"Huh?" you snap your head up, eye him with confusion.

"Did you just say you don't care anymore?" Your eyes go slightly wide, realizing you'd said that aloud and not just in your head to yourself. You nod in response, eyes stuck on him, on the black hair that's fallen in his face, on the way his hand frantically pushes it away. "What do you mean?"

"I don't care, hurt me, do whatever, I don't care," you say, body relaxing in defeat.

"No, no we're not doing that," he says, and you squint at him in frustration. "You always just give up when things are hard, or when you think you'll fail. It's fucking pathetic."

Tears are back in your eyes, and you look at the floor in front of you, the small expanse of wood separating the two of you.

"I know, I FUCKING KNOW I'M PATHETIC, IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT ME TO SAY?!" you scream, frustration boiling up again.

"Yes, it is," he says with a satisfied smile.

"You want me to just tear myself down in front of you, is that it??"

"Finally you're understanding," he sighs, looking you over with what almost could be pride.

"Fuck you," you mutter, trying to bring yourself down from yet another surge in adrenaline.

"Fucking apologize. Tell me what you did wrong. I'm tired of waiting," he snaps, and the words feel like they lance through you. It makes you notice your body again, notice the way you're shaking hard from the cold.

"I'm fucking freezing Yunho," you say, tone begging him to take mercy on you.

"I know, I can see you shivering. Apologize to me and I'll get you a blanket," he spits.

"No," you whine, your body pleading with you, desperately wanting relief from the cold.

"Your nipples are so hard I can see them through your shirt." He's smirking, staring unabashedly at your chest, and it makes you scream again, writhing around with that unbridled anger, making your body hurt again.

"Y/n, y/n, fucking hell," Yunho lurches forward to grab onto you, physically forcing you to stop moving, stop hurting yourself even more. His arms are wrapped around you, your head pulled into his chest, and you can smell him now, the faint musk coming from under his arms, the slight sour edge making your head feel funny.

"You lied to boss," you rasp out, voice muffled against his chest.

"What?" he asks, settling down to now hold you in place.

"You said you weren't attracted to me. In the meeting." He just grunts in response, so ambiguously that you can't tell if he's agreeing or not. "Is that not what you meant by, 'I like you'?

"It is," he replies, sighing.

"Then why did you lie?" you ask, surprised he would do that in front of your boss, even given the nature of the question.

"Cause you did first," he responds, matter of factly.

"I didn't lie," you mutter, holding your eyes closed, your head still feeling funny as you try to shake free whatever feelings are enveloping you.

"You either lied to him, or to yourself," he says, finally pulling back, seeming to trust that you won't flail around again. But the slightest muscle twitch of your arm has his grip back on you in seconds, and you just sit there staring up at him, his hands gripping your arms tight to keep you from pulling on the ropes. "Which was it?"

"Stop," you whisper, harshly, your spit spraying in his face. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, eyeing you harshly, something clicking into place behind his eyes.

"You're really gonna make me fucking do this, aren't you," he grumbles, almost like it's just to himself. He shakes his head, sighing sharply, and you eye him with worry. He looks half disappointed, but half amused, and once he picks his hand up and flicks your already-hard nipple, the look becomes pure amusement just from your reaction.

"Ahh," you involuntarily moan, mortified at the sounds that just left your lips.

"You're sensitive," he chuckles, pinching the other harshly, making your whole body jolt in reaction.

"Yunho, stop, please, please," you beg, the pathetic, pleading look in your eye making his whole body react.

"If you'd just do what I ask, you could avoid these things," he chuckles, roughly pinching both of them now. Your back arches, and you fight to keep your breathing steady and not make any more embarrassing noises. But the pain and pleasure he's causing you is making it hard, and small gasps and whines leave your throat. "I think some part of you wanted this, though," he chuckles.

When he pulls back he's eyeing your arms, and the look of resolve and certainty in his eyes has you panicking, your brain struggling to make sense of it in any way.

"Please Yunho, please no," you whine again.

"Doll, you've left me no choice," he responds, sighing deeply as if he's thinking hard, not bothering to look you in the eye. Suddenly he's down to the side of you, and you feel his hands working fast behind you, the ropes pushed and pulled in various directions, making the sore skin of your wrists ache with every change of pressure. You're out of words now, utterly confused and helpless, and you lack the ability to fight him anymore, your body succumbing to exhaustion and not wanting to be bruised any further.

Suddenly you feel one of your wrists is free, the muscles in your shoulder relieved at finally being able to move, your body shuttering as it tries to work out the knots that have formed. You're partially free now, you realize for a moment, but just as fast you feel a final tug that loosens your other wrist from the bedpost, and then Yunho is yanking your wrists around to tie them in front of you instead. In a flash he's lifted you up, setting you down on the side of his bed, on your side. You're facing him, where he's now sat on the floor, as he grabs your legs and bends them up towards your arms, beginning to secure all of your limbs together in multiple knots. You lay in an almost catatonic state, staring at the wall of his room, the closet door partially cracked. You can see some of the suits and a few other random jackets you don't think you've ever seen before. You're so zoned out on the wall, so out of your body and out of your mind, that you don't even notice your pants and panties being pulled down to your thighs. It isn't until you feel the skin to skin contact, Yunho's hand gripping your thigh where it meets your hips, that you notice.

"What the fuck!" you squeal, head snapping back to him again, and the look on his face is cocky and self-satisfied, like he's proud of the reaction he's just pulled out of you.

"Yunho, please, no no no, please," you start babbling, repeating the words over and over until they feel almost meaningless. You can tell exactly where his hands are headed, where this whole thing is headed, but you don't have the physical strength in you to fight anymore. Or, more accurately, fighting with your body seems like the worst thing you can do right now, something that will only hurt you more and probably rile him up, too. He can see the gears turning in your head, and he's pressing, waiting for you to break, because it didn't take him long today to realize that he has a better read on you than you've ever had on yourself. You continue to babble your displeasure as he moves his hand up higher, higher, just brushing past your core and making you wince, but he doesn't reply to your words with words of his own, because he knows now that there's no point. He moves his hand up to your ass slowly, a trail of your wetness following his fingers, and even he's shocked by how much was there between your legs. He's sure you have no idea, that you're totally oblivious to the way your body has reacted to his words, his actions, to being bound and unable to move.

He's sure that for months now you had no idea that so much of the frustration you felt while being around him was the frustration of being teased, your body wanting certain touches that he was never giving you. He was certain you weren't taking care of it enough yourself, because he saw your thighs clench all the time when you stared at him, and sometimes he could even swear he smelled the arousal pooling in your panties, your short skirts leaving too little of a barrier.

Now, finally he was touching you, and it didn't surprise him that that soft wet part between your legs had reacted so quickly. It also wasn't a shock that your brain still hadn't caught up, that you still didn't see what was so obvious to him. He knew it would take more than a gentle brush of your clit for you to finally realize it, so moving his hand back down towards your center, he quickly found your entrance, firmly brushing the pad of his middle finger up your slit until he rubbed right over your sensitive bud again.

"Fuck! Okay, fuck, stop it, I'll apologize," you cry, the soft pad of his finger sending sparks through you as soon as it made contact with your clit. The feeling made your body shake again, but suddenly a warmth was filling your lower gut and you couldn't be more shocked by the feeling, and by how inviting, even comforting, it felt. It was another moment where you were ricocheted back into your body, into the present moment, and the strange nature of everything that was happening was too much to make sense of. All you knew is you needed your confusion to stop, because now more than any other feeling it was your inner conflict that scared you, the fact that you had earlier wished for him to grab you, the fact that now your body seemed so content to just stay in these ropes forever, as long as your position was comfortable enough.

All you could think to do now was to give him what he wanted, and what that was exactly you couldn't remember, other than that he wanted you to say something.

"I'm-I'm sorry, okay, I'm really sorry, I don't know how everything got as fucked up as- as it got, oh god, I'm sorry- I- I promise you I mean it," you babble, eyes closed as you try to control your breathing enough to speak.

"What are you sorry for?" he asks you, his face close enough that you feel his hot breath, his voice gentle but steady.

"I'm- I- I don't know, I- I-" You're distracted by his hand, but the way it's steadily making small circles over your clit and sending more of that heat into you, your mind less and less able to focus on your attempt at an apology.

"You don't know?" he asks, and it's patronizing, you both know it, but it doesn't even hurt you now. You just nod, sniffling as you whisper 'I'm sorry,' your eyes getting wet and heavy with how overwhelmed you feel. "You can't think straight now, can you?" he asks you, his finger working you steadily, his nose picking up on that scent he's become so familiar with. You shake your head, your breathing picking up gently from the pleasure enveloping you like a warm blanket. "Good, you think too much anyway," he chuckles, watching your face intently, his pride surging at the way he's picking you apart so perfectly.

"I think I know why you're sorry," he says, making you whine in response, nervous for what he's about to say. "I'm gonna guess, I think I'm right," he smiles, but you don't even see it with your eyes glued shut. He's happy though, seeing you like that, because he knows that finally you're in your body completely, and you're accepting what he's known you need. "You're sorry cause you know you fucked up, don't you? You know you took things too personally, you overreacted, you couldn't let my jokes or my pranks just be that, you had to make it more. And once you reacted that way once, you felt entitled to react that way every time, didn't you? You're sorry that you didn't stop that snowball in its tracks, before it became this huge thing, right?"

You groan in response to him, pissed as can be, but you can't tell him he's wrong because you're physically incapable now of lying. Something in the way he's making you feel, the way he's touching you, has melted a layer of your mental shield away, and you see now every word he's said is reflected inside you. The thoughts had been there for months, but you'd managed to avoid them almost completely, the occasional blip causing guilt and worry to cloud you for a day or two. But this was the first time you saw it truly for all that it was, how deep the guilt cut into you, how you spoke about him so nastily to other people because you really wanted to say those things to yourself.

"You'd never be able to forgive yourself if you admitted those things, huh?" he continues, making your breath hitch. "You don't want to admit them because you're scared you'll never feel the same about yourself ever again, right? Cause you're this perfect little angel, and you've been that for so many years, the perfect baby of the office, the perfect student in school, I'm sure, and admitting to yourself that you can be cruel, that would ruin the entire image you've created for yourself, wouldn't it?" Tears are streaming down your face now as you involuntarily nod, your whole body somehow enveloped in the warmth his touch is providing, despite how cold it is. Now that you're in your body, really truly in your body, you can notice the little things about your environment; you even notice the wind howling outside, not the loudest you could imagine, but enough that you know the storm is still blustering on. You try to blink open your eyes to look at him, but everything is blurred with your tears, and you vigorously shake your head back and forth, trying in vain to clear your vision. As if he can read your mind, Yunho's free hand comes up to wipe them away, and for some reason now it doesn't feel so bad, his hand touching your face gently, even if it still feels so new and strange. Once he's wiped away the tears you can get a good look at him, your faces only a few inches apart now.

"Am I right?" he asks, genuine, you know it's genuine, and you can't fucking believe it looking at him. He feels like one massive contradiction right now, and all you can do is whisper 'yeah' in response. Your answer clearly pleases him, and you suddenly feel his hand's movement slow, falter, and then he's moving his fingers down towards your entrance, pressing into you gently, only one finger at first.

"Yunho," you groan while shutting your eyes again, the feel of it so foreign, because if you were honest with yourself you hadn't had someone touch you in this way in years, and you weren't really one to put things inside of yourself if it was just you taking care of your needs.

"I know you need this," he responds, gently starting to pump in and out, the muscles of your cunt getting used to the feelings of pressure and release that they'd missed for so long.

"You have to forgive yourself," he starts up again, as he gradually starts upping his pace, working slowly and methodically. "You have to let yourself go of being that perfect angel. It's not realistic. You're a human, you're going to fuck up sometimes. And sometimes you have such a big crush on your handsome coworker that, well, you start acting out. And even you don't realize what you're doing, cause you're so caught up in your own head." You groan and roll your eyes when he calls himself handsome, and you still don't think you fully believe the rest of what he's said, but the first part, the part about forgiving yourself and freeing yourself of that perfect image, is calling to a part of you. "You're very sensitive, and I know you don't want to be, but you are. You can't ignore that, or it's gonna catch up with you time and time again."

He adds another finger, curling them up inside you in a perfect way, and you almost stop listening to what he's saying because at this point the pleasure is taking over your senses completely. He adds his thumb to your clit now, the feelings increasing exponentially, your clit feeling hot and fiery under his touch. It all still feels so foreign, so new, and something within you, particularly within the place he's touching you, still feels the need to hold back, to worry, to be tense. He can feel it too, and he guessed himself that you hadn't been touched in a while, from everything he'd observed about you. He figured you were someone who might have written off relationships and sex entirely, someone too focused on what their duty to the world was, to maintaining the image of good morals, that you weren't partaking in those things people consider selfish, or self-indulgent. He even wondered for a bit if you'd never been touched, but that seemed unlikely from some of the random comments he'd overheard in your conversations with Tally.

"You know, you can't come if you're so tense down there," he says, and again it's kind of patronizing, but you don't really care. "You have to let go."

"I- I've never come from, inside, st- stimulation," you stutter, looking at him directly, hoping to convey that despite your state you're being completely sincere.

"Really?"

"I- I can't," you say, shaking your head, thinking of all of your sexual exploits, the list of which can fit on one hand.

"I'm gonna try," he chuckles, his focus zeroing in on your body's reactions to his movements. "I really do need you to relax those muscles for me, relax your hips too. They're too tense, do you even feel that?" he asks, tapping the side of your thigh where the muscle is taught. You shake your head, frowning and burying your face into the duvet cover you're laying on. "No, don't shy away from me. Don't go back into your head. I know that's why you haven't come in the past, cause you were too in your head. You can't do that. Come on, just focus on my touch, think about how it feels, nothing else."

You try with all you have to follow his instructions, keeping your eyes on his face as you watch him furrow his brow in concentration, the muscles in his jaw flexing for a moment when he changes the angle of his hand ever so slightly. The new spot he was hitting inside felt so perfect, so shockingly deep, and finally your body started to cave into the feelings, your breathy moans coming out as you lost yourself in it, not thinking anymore about where you were or why you were there.

"You know you're not perfect, deep down you know that, and you need to accept that. You're not a robot, you're like all the rest of us, fucked up in so many ways, wanting selfishly for life to always go your way, wanting everyone to like you, praise you, cherish you. And that's okay, it doesn't make you some horrible person. You're neurotic, sensitive, intense, so what? You'll never not be those things, and that's okay. Just fucking let yourself be a human, so you don't get so fucking hung up on every little thing wrong with me." He punctuates the last word, reminding you why you're here. His hand is working you perfectly, and mixed with all that he's saying it's all encompassing, the overwhelming intensity you're feeling. Suddenly you feel something building deep within you, a coil about to snap, and you feel your legs begin to shake before it's even washing over you. The most intense orgasm of your life erupts within you, snaking out from your core down to your feet and back up again, surging to your head and making everything go gray and fuzzy, your mind blinded with a pleasure you've never known. You hear distant, warbled words coming from Yunho's mouth still, but you can't make them out as your orgasm builds in waves, lasting longer than you expect and completely knocking the wind from your lungs. As you come down you’re breathing ragged, so ragged, and you don't even realize that you've clamped down so hard on Yunho's hand that he can't move it anymore. You stare up at him, pupils blown and your face flushed, and in a moment he leans down to place a soft peck on your cheek, taking you by surprise.

"Why are you kissing me?" you ask, eyeing him with confusion and contempt, the action seeming absurd in the current circumstances.

"I'm proud of you. You finally gave into me, you're finally doing what I wanted you to," he replies. It's fucked, you know the sentiment is creepy and strange and so genuinely absurd, but you can't help feeling flattered by it. A small smile sneaks onto your lips, and Yunho sees how you're feeling too. "God you're a sucker for praise," he laughs, slowly removing his hand now that you've relaxed enough. "All you want to hear is that you're good, you're perfect. Can't bear anything else, can you?" You shake your head, as he stands up from where he's been sitting, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, pulling his cock out swiftly, eyeing you up and down. Your face is one of shock, mostly at seeing the size of him; you're not sure where this is headed exactly, but you just hope he'll be gentle with you, whatever he does.

"What, you thought I wasn't going to do this?" he asks, starting to move onto the bed beside you.

"No, it's just..." you sigh, shaking your head, not even sure what to fucking say, still in the haze of your orgasm.

"Oh, you didn't think I'd be this big," he laughs.

"You're so fucking full of yourself," you mutter, rolling your eyes. "Just make it quick, please," you say, almost under your breath, regretting it the moment it's left your lips.

"I'll take as much time as I fucking want with you," he responds, lining himself up with your still soaking entrance, rubbing the head around to gather up some of your wetness. He's fucking into you sideways, his body over yours as you remain on your side, bound and unable to move at all. He enters you slowly, feeling the stretch himself, seeing your eyebrows furrow in what must be pain.

"How long has it been?" he asks, leaning over you as he finally bottoms out, staying put as he lets your body adjust to the size of him. You look confused, so he clarifies, "since you've been fucked?"

You groan, the majority of your brainpower taken up in dealing with the strange mix of pain and pleasure happening between your legs. You don't have it in you to fight with him now, and you don't really want to; you're almost enjoying it now, just letting him talk and belittle and say whatever he pleases.

Once he feels your body relax just that little bit he needs, he moves his hips back, gently pushing himself back in again, but quickly setting a pace that feels good for him. He's holding one arm around your back and anchoring that hand on the back of your neck; the other arm is bent at the elbow, supporting him and holding onto your bound legs and arms, anchoring him to you. The thrusts feel intense, sharp, and biting at first, but soon all you can feel is the way he's repeatedly hitting your cervix, his cock so deep inside you that you feel like you might explode. You can't help the pathetic mewls you're making, eyes closed as you hear his steady grunts and heavy breathing so close to your ear.

"I know you've rejected tons of men, if it's been as long as I think," he says, and you feel his breath brushing across your cheek and neck, making you shiver. "Not just men, I should say. You're so fucking oblivious to everything. Do you even realize that Tally has a huge crush on you? I'm sure she'd love to fuck your brains out," he chuckles, making you groan in annoyance again, not believing him for a second. "I'm sorry, I know, forgive me. I can't help myself, I just love telling you all the things I know you don't realize." His pace hasn't let up, if anything it's increased, and his grip on you is tightening, his torso now flush with yours and his face only inches from your own. "Fuck, I'm not gonna last much longer, shit you're tight," he sighs, a groan rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. He knows his pace will leave you sore tomorrow, but it feels too good for him to stop, and it seems just the right thing to finally get your mind off all of the superfluous, stressful stuff you usually obsessively think about. It's not just that either; he can feel your body slowly coming undone again, and though it's built differently than the last time, the tell tale signs are there in the way your hips start moving against him, your breathing changing just like it did before. You come hard again, the feeling erupting from even higher inside your core this time, and it feels even more intense the second time around, your whole body shaking intensely this time.

"See, your body needed this," he whispers in your ear, his hard thrusts continuing through your aftershocks, soon becoming painful and hard to bear. Your face has turned sour as he chases his own climax, and even as bad as it feels, part of you is so content to just sit here and take it. The feeling of having no other option, of being held here and used for another's pleasure, it makes some of your internal confusion go away. You liked this part at least; maybe everything that came before was not to your liking, but this part definitely was.

He finishes with a final hard thrust, groaning out a 'fuck', before pressing his hips flush with yours and keeping them there. You feel his warm cum filling you, his warm body wrapping around you, and finally you do truly feel warm, from the inside out. This was a feeling you could get used to, your head fuzzy and soft and lacking the usual worries you have, your body relaxed, spent, and warm.

It isn't long that you're in that position, Yunho pulling out of you quickly, walking over to his bathroom to grab a towel and start wiping you and his comforter clean of the mess he'd made. The absence of him left you feeling cold again, your body stiffening up faster than you thought it would, and your shivers returning as soon as he took the damp towel to your most sensitive area. Eyes closed you're still holding onto the remnants of that blissful feeling, especially the way your brain feels so wonderfully empty. You're surprised when you feel Yunho messing with your ropes, assuming he'd just leave you there for a little while, or maybe for a long while, it was hard to say. But quickly he's undone the entirety of the knots, and he tosses the rope onto the floor, manually moving your limbs to help your body stretch out and begin returning blood flow to the places that lost it.

It hurts when he does this, though it feels good too, but you whine and complain the whole time, even as he assures you it's best and it's needed. He then slowly takes off your clothes entirely, leaving you naked and exposed, and the cold is almost overbearing now, making your body ache all the way into your bones.

"It's fucking cold, you asshole," you groan, tucking yourself back up into that fetal position you were just in for so long, despite the fact that the ropes are gone now.

"Just give me a minute, I know," he sighs, somewhere behind you, over in the direction of his bathroom. You hear what must be the bathtub faucet turn on, the strong current of water sounding clearly through the quiet house. Then he's coming over to you, wrapping you up in his arms and carrying you that way, setting you gently into his huge tub before it's even finished filling. The hot water feels like it's sizzling your skin upon first contact, but soon your body relaxes in the warmth, especially your back once the water reaches all the way up to your neck. His tub is nice; there are spots designed specifically to rest your arms on, the slope of the side a comfortable angle for relaxing down onto.

"Give me your arms," he says, and you look up at him begrudgingly, holding your arms out of the water like it's the hardest thing in the world.

"Little brat," he mutters, taking the first into his hands and slowly applying some lotion to your rope burns, wrapping it loosely in a thin bandage. He does the same to the other, setting them both on the sides of the tub, out of the water. "Keep them there, I'm going to get some ice. We need to ice those burns so they don't bruise too badly," he says, and you just stare through him, not nodding or saying anything. He doesn't need that kind of confirmation though, he knows you'll follow his commands. He returns a few minutes later, two ice packs and more bandages in hand, and somehow balanced between it all, your phone.

"It looks like you have some missed calls," he says, showing you your phone screen. You see three missed calls from Yunji, and a slew of texts, and your heart jumps back up in speed momentarily, even in your relaxed and numb state.

"I gotta call her now," you say, your words rushed, reaching out your bandaged wrist to grab at your phone. Yunho holds it just out of reach though, and then sets it down on the counter by the sink, turning back to you with a knowing look.

"I need to ice your wrists first. Then we'll call her," he says.

"Yunho, seriously, she's gonna call the fucking police, I know her," you respond, eyeing him sharply with disapproval.

"And you, seriously, need to wait a moment," he snaps, and you really don't like this control now, because it's affecting someone else, not just you.

"I fucking hate you," you mutter, pushing yourself up despite your weak and painful muscles, moving yourself out of his bathtub without a care in the world for all of the water you're spilling everywhere.

"Okay, okay, fine," he concedes, holding onto your shoulders while your one foot is still in the tub, not letting you move any further. "I'm putting it on speaker on the side of the tub, so that I can ice your wrists." Your faces are inches apart, the look in his eye is intense, almost like he's compelling you to agree with him.

"Fine," you sigh, sitting yourself back down, your body basking in being back in the water. Then, as he said, he's set your phone on the side of the tub, somehow guessing your passcode and opening it with ease, calling Yunji immediately. As the call begins to ring he sets to work on your wrists again, gently wrapping the ice packs around the smaller bandages already on your sensitive skin.

"Girl, oh my god, where are you??" Yunji answers, her panic obvious.

"I'm- I'm at Yunho's, I'm fine though, I swear-" you start, knowing she'll be horrified by just his name alone.

"Oh my god what???" she cuts you off, gasping. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Yes I'm okay, Yun, I promise. I just- I ran into him on my way back from the store, and well, I got sort of, tied up, talking with him, and then the storm came so- so now I'm stuck here." Yunho's face breaks into a smirk, knowing just how literal two of the words you just said are.

"Oh god, you poor thing, are you sure you're okay? That man is insane," she sighs. Yunho eyes you, a playful look on his face, almost like he's trying to avoid laughing.

"Seriously, I'm okay, I promise. It was actually really good, I guess, talking about things. We were more, uh, honest I guess? I- I don't know, there's a lot to process. It was weird. But I'm okay, I- I swear," you sigh, wishing you weren't stuttering so much over your words.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asks again.

"I know I sound like a mess, I'm sorry. The storm is kind of freaking me out," you reply.

"It's okay hun, don't apologize. I can't believe you're stuck there with him. God, I don't think you'll be able to come home tonight. Is there somewhere you can sleep there?" Yunho nods at her question, eyeing you as he does.

"Uh, yeah, he has a guest room here. He said I could stay in there. At least it's separate, my own space," you answer her.

"God, I'm so sorry you're there. I shouldn't have let you go to the store, I should have stopped you..." she trials off, and you can bet her hand is slapped over her face in frustration.

"No, don't apologize Yun, I think it was good that this happened. I mean, I don't know, at least something has changed between me and him. And you had no idea that the storm would return so quickly like it did. It was my own stupidity, if anything, I just-" you cut yourself off, shaking your head side to side against the hard porcelain of the tub. "Thank you for checking up on me, I'm sorry I missed your calls. I was just talking with him, I got distracted. I hate that I worried you so much." It feels a little weird lying to her, but above all you want her to know you appreciate how much she looks out for you.

"It's okay, I'm just glad you're safe and okay. And hopefully tomorrow it'll clear up enough that you can come back here where you belong."

Her last word brings tears to your eyes, thinking of your perfect little apartment and just how much of a home you two have made of it.

"I love you so much," you sigh, looking over at your phone, wishing you were seeing her face instead.

"I love you too, I wish you were here," she replies.

"I know, me too," you say.

"We can keep talking if you want."

"I- I should probably go, I'm starving so I guess I need to go ask Yunho about dinner. But I'll call later, if that's okay? I'm sure I'll be bored as shit," you chuckle, and she does too, the tension finally breaking.

"Sounds good, call me whenever. I hope he has something decent for you to eat. I doubt he can cook or anything, if he's such a spoiled rich boy." You both laugh in sync, Yunho rolling his eyes as he places the final bandage on your second wrist, securing the ice packs in place.

"Okay, talk to you soon," you say, smirking up at him.

"Bye bye," she replies, hanging up the call.

"You two are so mean," he sighs, shaking his head and walking out of the room, and you relax into the silence of the room, your wrists starting to feel the cold of the ice packs, the relief palpable. Your body is wrecked, you can feel it intensely, but the warm bath relaxing your muscles and ice on your wrists is making it bearable, your body already on the path towards healing. Yunho returns about ten minutes later, when you've almost nodded off, and takes a small washcloth into the warm water, using it to wipe the snot and tears that have stained your cheeks. Then he's feeding you a warm cup of tea, holding it as your arms lay unusable at your sides; he does the same with the small bowl of stew he's heated for you, the tastes rich and fresh in a way that make it obvious it's homemade. The attentiveness doesn't feel overly sweet, but the calm that's settled in the air between you isn't something you've experienced with him at all, the entire time you've known one another. You're both silent, comfortable, and the warm stew is just so delicious, the meat tender and soft and perfectly seasoned. Your senses are overwhelmed in solace, your breaths deep and stable. Your nerves have returned to you, so you're no longer numb. But instead of the high strung alertness that usually accompanies you, your body is present but calm.

When you finally finish the stew and tea, thirty minutes have passed in total silence, Yunho taking his time with feeding you, letting your body relax in the hot water. He places the empty bowl and mug on the counter, moving back to start unwrapping the ice packs, and then beckoning you to stand, bringing a huge fluffy towel to wrap around your shoulders. The towel dwarfs you, keeping the cold away, and you gently step out of the tub, following Yunho wherever he leads you.

"Can you walk?" he asks, and you nod your head, following him over towards the counter. He pulls out a brush from one of the drawers, gently taking it to the knots that had formed in your hair, the ends damp from the tub. After he finishes he leads you out of his room, down the hall two doors down, and you enter to another room with a large bed, a TV on the opposite wall, the whole room immaculately decorated. He leads you to the bed, placing your phone on the bedside table and grabbing a charger out of the drawer. He also grabs the remote inside, placing it next to your phone, and a bottle of water, holding it out to you.

"I'll be in my room, if you need anything else," he says, standing up to make his way out.

"I'm sorry I kept ignoring your texts, and calls," you say, your voice quiet, the words escaping you without much thought.

He just eyes you for a minute, turning to face you, his face unreadably neutral. "I'm not," he finally says, smiling, that cocky grin back on his perfect face. You roll your eyes at him, settling into the bed, pulling the comforter up and over you.

He makes to leave the room again, but stops himself at the door, turning back to face you one final time

"We're going back to the office Monday, right?" he asks.

You don't respond, you don't say a word. But he doesn't need you to. He knows the answer, just like he knows you, with a certainty maybe he shouldn't have.

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#ateez x reader #ateez smut #yunho smut #yunho x reader #ateez yunho #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #dark fic

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