#i dont remember my taglist but HI?

[literaturebf]

DINNER TABLE OF MY DREAMS, published in hot pot magazine

[id: black text on a white background. text transcript:

DINNER TABLE OF MY DREAMS 

sturdy & wooden & staggering

under the weight of our love, chipped /

at the edges from chairs crowded

around the oak surface. promise /

there’s a point to it all, drink

some wine and calm down first. /

candlelit & enveloped in orange

open windows carrying laughter /

to the streets. i loved you first. 

steaming plates & scattered crumbs /

 & portrait of lipstick stained smiles

atop rosy lips. pass the bread, please. /

have some more ravioli. surround

yourself with what you deserve. /

moonlight shining through curtains

springsteen crooning softly through /

speakers. survival isn’t simple. /

this is.

/ end id.]

[emphistic]

April Fools' Day

Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul

PS: i shouldve posted this yesterday, but i was too busy trying to fight for my life against all the boops

"Dumb bitch," Sukuna rolled over in bed to grab his phone — which hadn't stopped pinging with seemingly infinite notifications, "just can't take a hint, huh?"

The pink-haired man tried his best not to wake you up; he knew how cranky you could get.

He swiped open on the screen, and waited for his eyes to adjust to the light. As he suspected: this girl who had gotten ahold of his Instagram just wouldn't stop messaging him. Sukuna couldn't even remember her name without looking at her username.

They had met at one of his basketball games and she had tried to get his number; Sukuna didn't even say "no" or that he had a girlfriend, he just walked away from her.

Clara

Heyyyy

Im the girl from ur game last week

Ur like superrrr cute

You

Dont care

Clara

We should totally go out some time

Im free this wknd

You

Sure

Sukuna knew you would murder him if you found out what he was about to do, but he couldn't care less.

Clara

Rlly??

I knew u would finally come to ur senses 😘

Here's my number: xxx-xxx-xxx

Sukuna opened the number in his messages, and opened his camera app. He smiled, flashing his canines.

You

[Sent attachment]

Opened 2s ago

Sukuna sent the girl a picture of him in bed, with you sleeping on top of him. He had kiss marks from your lipstick all over his face and bare chest. You, on the other hand, remained sleeping soundly, completely unaware of your boyfriend's shenanigans.

Then, his texts turned green. The girl had blocked him.

[awrkive]

[TEASER] THE LOVE PROGNOSIS (m) — JJK.

for as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. the kind of girl who thought her high school jock boyfriend would make good on his promise of keeping contact until college. that girl who thought the guy she met at 19 at some sleazy frat party wanted more than just sex. the girl who thought that her boyfriend at 21 would finally be The One after he introduced her to his parents on New Year’s Eve. you’re the kind of girl who thought that it was smart to get a boyfriend in her first year of med school and get proposed to in fourth year.

but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.

PAIRING jungkook x female reader // mingyu x female reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

WORD COUNT 1.2k words for this teaser but the fic currently is at 22k words (heavily unedited). the final estimate is around 30-35k 🤓

WARNINGS/MISC medical!au, roommates!au, surgeon!jk, surgeon!reader (they are both 4th year residents and are co-workers), corporate lawyer!mingyu, oc and jk are bffs since med school but their love language is fighting each other <3, jk and mingyu are bffs during undergrad, jk sluts it out quite often😞, hopeless romantic!oc, weddings and engagement themes, the angst is a bit extreme (medium level tbh) on this one, it’s the… yearning? one sided-love?, the surgeons gang: jk, oc, nayeon, doyeon, taehyung <3, multiple sex scenes (will specify once the fic comes out), i personally have only acquired a degree on Bingewatching Grey’s Anatomy so my medical knowledge is.. you see.. greys anatomy 💔 BUT! i did a lot of research for this pls dont crucify me. the full list of warnings will be indicated when the full fic comes out 🙏🏼 anyways warnings particularly for this teaser: drunk oc, implied alcohol consumption, germaphobe jk lol

NOTES hello awrkive nation!!!!!!!!!!!!! i wanted to do something for jk’s birthday this september and this is what i came up with 😭 i am so soooo so incredibly excited to announce this fic to you guys 😵‍💫 ive been working on this on and off since the last week of july and its currently at 20k words so its coming along really well 🫂 its gonna be a HUGEE HUGEEE fic since its estimated to be around 30k words which will be a first for me hehe <3 pls look forward to it and REPLY TO THE COMMENT SECTION IF YOU WANT TO BE ON THE TAGLIST (pls do not send an ask for taglist request 🫶🏼) LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK!!!!! I WANNA HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS <33333

[ TLP MOODBOARD ]

READ FULL FIC HERE ❗

“Hey, swing me.”

You tell Jungkook, situating yourself more comfortably on the wooden platform attached to the chains.

“A dollar per minute.” He says, standing up from his own seat and placing himself behind you.

“I thought you hate capitalism? What is this?”

“This is forced labor.” Jungkook says with a groan that you think is a feigned exasperation, since you begin to feel movement right after it.

“You broke my hairdryer the other day. Consider this your compensation.” You look up at him to give him a smarmy smile.

Fom where you’re seated, you realize just how… big his presence is. It’s not the looming, ominous type, though – it’s quite the opposite. When Jungkook surrounds you, you find a bit of comfort in it. A huge one if you want to be honest to yourself.

“And I already bought you a new one. We’re even.” Jungkook squints his eyes at you.

You laugh.

“You’re gonna borrow and break it again.”

He visibly winces. “Touché.”

Jungkook swings you while you talk about your day, just like usual. He asks you about your laparoscopy that kept you from having lunch with the rest of your friends at the hospital earlier that day, about your new scrub cap, and you gossip a little about the new lab tech having a crush on the scrub nurse you both know.

For all his complaints earlier, Jungkook seemingly doesn’t seem to mind having swung you for the past ten minutes now. He’s relaxed and gentle with his movements, and his voice is quaint and soft as he talks to you.

But then you start to feel bad for him so you tell him to stop, standing up from the swing.

“Okay, your turn.”

Jungkook gives you a big grin.

“Nice.”

You chuckle at his enthusiasm when he sits on the swing chair this time around. But when you attempt a push, he barely moves, prompting him to laugh.

“What weak ass push was that?” He says incredulously, looking at you.

You jut your bottom lip out. “You’re heavy and I’m drunk.”

The second time you push him is more forceful but then Jungkook voices out a complaint after the third, fourth, and every single time you do it. You roll your eyes at his tantrums, but then suddenly, you think of a much better idea.

You push him off the swing with all your remaining strength even though your body feels like jelly from all the alcohol you consumed an hour ago.

“What the fuck, __?”

You burst out in boisterous laughter at Jungkook’s state, his hands and knees planted on the ground. He then sits on it, clapping his palms together to get rid of some dust that gathered on his skin.

Without thinking too much about it, you make quick steps over to his direction and situate yourself beside him.

Jungkook looks at you, confused, but you only give him a grin.

“Let’s lie on the ground.”

“What? No!” Jungkook immediately opposes it. As you expected.

You scrunch your face. “Oh! Look at me! I’m Jeon Jungkook and I’m a germaphobe and I’m afraid of dirt!” You say, intentionally making your voice a pitch higher.

Jungkook deadpans. “Pathogens can kill your cells’ metabolic machinery, so, yeah? I’m afraid of dirt.”

You roll your eyes at him and while he goes off about how they can also cause a toxic massive immune reaction, you push his chest forcefully which catches him off guard, prompting him to lay on the ground. Before he can say anything, you take his arm out to spread beside you and you use it to rest your head on.

Jungkook stops his rambling after that.

“See, shut up.” You say, backhanding him slightly on the chest. You fix your gaze at the skies. “The sky is beautiful tonight. Worry about your pathogens next time.”

Jungkook chuckles, and you feel the vibration of his body as he does so, being so close to him. As you peer up to look at him, you see him folding his other arm to lie his head on it.

You smile, going back to looking at the sky.

“This is like in The Notebook.” Jungkook says after a beat of silence.

“Right?” You grin. “And with the pathogens, too.” You tease.

Jungkook laughs, pinching your arm in his reach. “God, shut up about your pathogens.”

You chuckle at the irony.

“That’s me,” you point upwards, referring to a big twinkling light in the sky. Then, you move your finger towards the star beside it. “And then that’s you, ‘cause I’m a bigger star than you.”

You feel Jungkook look at you from his position. “You are so drunk.”

That causes you to giggle, clutching your stomach because you can’t stop laughing at pretty much everything tonight.

“I feel like I'm not anymore. My head just feels like it’s floating but no, definitely not drunk.”

“Whatever you say.” Jungkook says, chest vibrating from laughing at you.

“Hm. Race you to sleep, Jungkook.” You snuggle on his armpit. As you do, you smell a waft of your water lily springs body wash from Bath and Body Works. “Can you stop using my body wash?”

“What?” You can hear Jungkook say, but as he calls your name and more, his voice starts fading. “__? Hey, don’t sleep on me.”

You hum, eyes still closed.

“__, hey!” Jungkook grazes your arms. You can feel your head moving as Jungkook starts to sit, guiding your back to sit upright. He calls you again, gently tapping your cheek to wake you up.

The truth is, you’re really sleepy, but not so much that you can’t hear him anymore or move on your own.

Jungkook gives up trying to wake you up, though, convinced by your acting. Soon, he goes over in front of you, reaching for your arms and placing them around his neck.

“Just put your legs around me, yeah?” He whispers against your hair once you’re glued against his back.

You hum, intending it to sound like a mumble so Jungkook thinks you don’t actually understand.

Jungkook fixes your legs around him, standing up, bouncing a little to get you nice and snug in his back. You smile at the prospect of a piggyback ride.

“I know you’re awake, silly,” He says suddenly, his voice painted with amusement.

You stifle your laughter against his neck, breaking your supposed to be convincing act.

“Race you to the car, Kook.” you whisper into his ear.

Jungkook scoffs, but he doesn’t say anything more until you reach his car. He wears your seatbelt for you, though, and tells you to drink more water from his tumbler.

You fall asleep easily mid-drive.

In the morning, you wake up with a banging headache, your eyes catching the sight of a post-it note on your desk with one tab of Advil.

morning/afternoon stinky i made porridge before i left for my shift just heat it up again when you wake up

ps: your medical bill from my personal care will be discussed later when i get back home. no friends discount allowed

— your angelic friend, kookie

You chuckle at the (annoyingly elaborate) sketch of an angry bunny on the side.

© 𝐀𝐖𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐕𝐄 2024. all rights reserved. copying, editing, reposting and translating any of my works are not allowed.

[taeghi]

your little brother, my little secret | teaser

FULL RELEASE : READ HERE

yn and joy share every secret, until yn returns from university to find joy's little brother jake has become irresistibly hot. maybe keeping just one secret from your best friend won't hurt… right?

PAIRING : best friends little brother!jake x reader

GENRE : smut & angst. jake's (shy) a sub for majority of it. dirty talk, masturbation, degrading + humiliation, & y/n is a menace.

WC : 14k

TAGLIST : ????? (if ur on my perm taglist u dont need to comment) <3

mdni

you’ve been counting down the days until summer for what feels like forever. you’re returning to your hometown for the entire two months you have until university starts again in september. 

you’ve been driving for miles now, just having to go to a university two hours away from your small hometown. but the summer air is thick and humid, and it blows throughout the car as all the windows are down. 

your best friend, joy, sits beside you. you’ve known her for just as long as she has moved into your small town when you both were ten. since then, you’ve shared everything together; every laugh, every tear… every secret. her family feels like your own, summers spent in their backyard, evenings filled with board games and cards. some nights in high school even included sneaking out to a party and drinking until you thought you’d throw up. 

last summer was different. you were abroad doing an internship for university. and you didn’t get a chance to stay long during christmas break. so, it’s been a while since you’ve actually stayed in your hometown with all its familiarities. 

“jake will be home when we get there,” joy says, loud enough to be heard over the wind and faint music. 

“oh right, how’s he liking university?” 

jake is joy’s little brother. he’s always been shy, introverted, prefers to stay home and play video games instead of going out like you and joy. you remember him as a cute kid, all wide eyed and shy smiles. you don’t remember him having much friends, he’d rather be alone in his room. it’s hard for you to imagine him navigating the crowded university, but you suppose he’s all grown up now. it’s been so long since you’ve seen him, and the thought of how much he changed lingers in your mind. 

“he likes it,” joy says, her long black hair blowing out the window, “he’s excited for summer like we are.” 

you nodded in response, thinking maybe jake would go out with you guys now instead of playing video games in his room all summer. 

“we gotta go to hyunjin’s this week!” joy declares, her eyes lighting with anticipation, “you know he’s throwing a big party this week. and then, there’s that new bar that opened downtown. we have to check it out!” 

you agree with joy. her energy is infectious despite her brash (sometimes too brash) exterior. joy has always been more straightforward and perhaps blunt than you are. when sometimes you can be a people pleaser and a pushover, joy is there to say the words you wish you could say. 

“i can’t wait,” you reply, “it’s been too long since we’ve had a proper night out.” 

joy shoots you a mischievous grin, her confidence unwavering, “oh trust me, yn. this summer, we’re going all out.” 

you roll your eyes at your pretty best friend, pulling into her family’s driveway swiftly. 

you and joy step through the front door of the house, a place that is more familiar and comforting than your own. the place smells like a home cooked meal and you are instantly greeted with joy’s parents’ smiles. joy’s mother envelops you in a hug, her warmth and kindness instantly easing any fatigue from the long drive. 

"oh, yn, joy, it's so good to see you both!" joy's mother exclaims, her smile radiant. "dinner will be ready shortly. you must be exhausted after the drive. please, sit down in the living room and relax."

joy's father joins in, his jovial voice filling the room. "how was the trip? traffic wasn't too bad, i hope?" her parents' genuine concern and hospitality are a stark contrast to your own parents. 

"it was fine, dad," joy replies, her tone affectionate yet tinged with a hint of impatience. "we're just glad to be home for the summer."

you smile over your shoulder at her parents as she drags you to the living room. it looks the same as you remember it; comfy fabric couch, family photos on the walls, lit candles around the room that mix with the smell of dinner. 

joy props her feet up on the coffee table as she starts to scroll her phone. a nonchalant smile plays on her lips, “can’t believe we’re back here.” she says with a sigh.

before you can respond, a sudden noise draws your attention towards the backdoor. two figures emerge, their arms swaying as they laugh and push each other. 

“hey guys,” joy's casual greeting halts their antics momentarily, but it's the sight of you on the couch that freezes one of the boys in his tracks. he stands there, awkward and unsure.

the other boy remains cool and confident as he greets joy and walks over to you both on the couch. he stands in front of you, sticking his hand out in front of your face, “i’m heeseung.” 

you look up at him as he stands, his features are chiseled. his eyes are a deep shade of brown. his smile is almost cocky, but disarming as he flashes it effortlessly. there’s an aura of assurance about him, that he knows he’s good looking and he’s confident about it. 

your hand meets his, “i’m y/n.” your eyes flicker back to the boy who remains rooted to the spot, his expression unreadable as he almost quiets away into the wall. 

“are you gonna come hug your sister, jake?” joy squeaks from beside you, she octaves her voice higher to be annoying on purpose. 

it’s then that you realize who is standing there in the corner– you almost didn’t recognize him. 

the shy, nerdy kid you once knew is now standing before– transformed in a way that catches you off guard. where once stood a lanky teenager, now stands a man that is toned and tanned. his hair is longer and tousled in a way that accentuates his features. he’s taller and broader. 

as you take in his appearance, you can’t help but be struck by how insanely hot he has become. 

he shifts nervously, perhaps sensing your gaze. his eyes turn to joy, “no way in hell am i hugging you.” 

joy's mother breezes into the room with a warm smile, "oh jake, give your sister a hug."

joy springs up instantly, tackling jake in a bear hug that's both affectionate and overly enthusiastic. jake groans, awkwardly patting joy's back as everyone chuckles. heeseung, settles down next to you, a confident smirk playing on his lips, his eyes holding a hint of nothing other than flirtatious. 

"right, yn," joy's mother continues, her tone gentle yet teasing, "heeseung here has been keeping jake entertained since you left."

heeseung chimes in, his voice dripping with sarcasm and humor. "yeah, we're inseparable now," he says with a grin.

you laugh, unable to resist teasing. "oh really? i remember jake having no friends at all."

joy joins in, her laughter ringing through the room. "seriously, all he did was stay in his room playing video games."

"be nice, girls," she says playfully. "joy, come help me with dinner. set up a place for heeseung, too."

heeseung stands up with a mock bow. "don't worry, i'll set up my own place."

joy groans at having to help, leaving you and jake alone in the living room, complaining about why she has to help but jake doesn’t. 

jake settles into the chair directly across you, but his body language shows he’s tense and restless and it suggests that he’d rather be anywhere else. he fidgets slightly, fingers rolling over each other in his lap, his eyes darting around the room and avoiding you.

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)

stay safe everyone :)

[archiverstappen]

the cat sitter (part 13) ✧ max verstappen

max verstappen x fem! reader

previous part | masterlist | next part

loosely inspired by the story on how max lost his cat

[twitter]

[instagram]

maxverstappen1

liked by landonorris and 4.920.557 others

maxverstappen1 My crazy cat lady is finally back

view all 5.782 comments

yourusername GUYS DONT WORRY NO CATS WERE HARMED WHILE TAKING THIS PHOTO 🧎‍♀️

↳ username 🤨🤨🤨 suspicious

↳ yourusername BELIEVE ME PLEASE I WOULD NEVER PUT MY KIDS IN DANGER. I WOULD RISK MAX’S WELL BEING TO PROTECT THEM🫂

↳ maxverstappen1 WOW

yourusername starting to wonder, will there ever be a day where you finally post a decent picture of me 🙍‍♀️

↳ maxverstappen1 No

↳ yourusername there will be repercussions for your action

username I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

danielricciardo Okay now i get where the name ‘crazy cat lady’ came from

landonorris 👀👀👀 hehehe yourusername

↳ yourusername sHHHHHHHHH

sophiekumpen 😁🧡

username ANOTHER NON RACE RELATED POST FROM MAX?!?! WE WON

↳ username and it’s of y/n🥹 HE’S DEFINITELY IN LOVE

username SO WE’RE NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT HOW MAX WROTE “MY crazy cat lady”

↳ username REAL, FRIENDS DONT DO WHAT THEY DO😩

[messages]

[instagram]

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1 and 178 others

yourusername not fast just furious

view all 12 comments

maxverstappen1 SIIIIIUUU

maxverstappen1 Told you I’m a good teacher

↳ yourusername couldn’t see the road properly because my vision was blurry from all the tears that i held

↳ landonorris YOU MADE HER CRY?! maxverstappen

bffusername i jusT KNOW that the driving lessons were chaotic, but props to max for doing something no human being can afford to do 🥹

↳ yourusername iM A GOOD STUDENT!!!!

↳ maxverstappen1 Half of the lessons were filled with her having a breakdown, and the other half were filled with Y/N saying “huh” because she couldn’t hear my instructions through ��Tokyo Drift” that was playing in the background

↳ bffusername sounds like the y/n i know 👍

bffusername ANYWAY so excited to finally be yor passenger princess 😘

↳ yourusername i would love to drive you around, but i still don’t know how to park 😁

friendusername Remember that time when you hit my mother’s car in high school? 😂 Look how far you’ve come!!

↳ yourusername THIS STILL KEEPS ME UP AT NIGHT!! IM SO SORRY MRS MARTIN 😭

[twitter]

[instagram]

[messages]

[notes]

[twitter]

[messages]

[twitter]

[messages]

[twitter]

-

author’s note: IT’S FINALLY HERE!!! i really hope you guys like this one 🧎🏻‍♀️

taglist: : @flwr-stella @reidsworld @myloverjk-blog @debss-319 @hiraethrhapsody @electrobutterfly @love4lando @lunnnix @allenajade-ite @jjsprobablywrong @whoreks @soleilgrec @oscarwildingsworld @christianpulisic10 @thievin-stealing @glitterf1 @elliegrey2803 @trouble-sistar @escapism-writer @cornerofacry @hollie9111 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @ad-astra-again @canyon-lwt @thecubanator2 @lifesuckslife @leclercloml @sunny44 @nmw-am @sachaa-ff @multilovebot @glow-ish @moneygramhaas @whitefireproofs @icarus-nex @iloveyou3000morgan @ccallistata @copper-boom @fictionalcharacterslut @celesteblack08 @maxiel-jpg @slytherheign @lunyyx @series-books-food @coffeehurricanes @shrimpyshrimp @somanyfandomsbruh @justcallmeelli @laneyspaulding19 @ironmaiden1313

pictures (c) to pinterest and instagram

[lewisvinga]

doctor! doctor! | lando norris x fem! reader x oscar piastri !

summary; the average life of a med student dating not one, but two f1 drivers

fc; various girls on pinterest

warnings; cursing, suggestive comment

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

notes; requested ! as a nursing major, i <3 anything to do w the reader being in the medical field ! also didn’t realize for the messages lando is just ‘lando’ so pretend his contact is ‘lan<33’😭😭😭

masterlist !

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; my boys sending me selfies so i don’t lose my mind today 🧡🧡] [caption 2; reason why i’m losing my mind; my first med school exam🤓]

landonorris replied to your story !

landonorris u literally graduated top of ur class, u can do this 🧡🧡🧡

yourusername why’d i have to be so passionate abt this career 😔

landonorris bc ur super duper smart !

landonorris osc and i miss you!! ( he won’t admit it but he’s sad you’re not w us😒 )

yourusername i miss my boys too ☹️ ( he does this every time )

landonorris he wants to act so cool 🙄🙄

yourusername well tell him spring break is in 2 months and i’ll be able to attend at least one (1) race this semester 😕

landonorris as much as i wish you can see us more often, you gotta go help save lives !

yourusername and i gotta study so i can go save lives !😣

landonorris: good luck ! liked by yourusername !

oscarpiastri replied

oscarpiastri that latte looks sick😯

yourusername stfu i know ur sad that i’m missing so many races this season😒

oscarpiastri lando told you ?

yourusername yes u don’t have to act all cool or whatvr 🙄

yourusername my spring break is in 2 months, i’ll be able to go to a race then !😁

oscarpiastri 2 months TOO LONG💔

oscarpiastri and go study u have an exam in 3 days 🙄🙄

yourusername STOP I’M TRYING TO AVOID IT

yourusername nvm just remembered i dont know anything, i’ll facetime u and lan later? okay???

oscarpiastri already waiting !

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and others !

yourusername: a week filled with clinicals, studying, cheering for my favorite boys, and more studying !

tagged; yourbestfriend, friendone, friendtwo, oscarpiastri, landonorris

landonorris: oscarpiastri look at our girl studying to be a future life saver 🥹🥹

oscarpiastri: soooo smart, future dr. l/n🧡

yourusername: i love & miss you both sm☹️

landonorris: doctor! doctor! i’m injured and i need help!

yourusername: not a doctor yet lan

landonorris: shhh play along

oscarpiastri: don’t he’s being mean to me

landonorris: LIAR!!

oscarpiastri: why’d u get black coffee u never do

yourusername: bold of u to assume i didn’t get a latte after trying yourbestfriend americano

yourbestfriend: you’re studying to be a DOCTOR, how do u not like black coffee

yourbestfriend: dawg who let us study to be doctors 😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣

yourusername: LMFAOOO

friendone: stay healthy guys , ur future doctors are currently making tiktoks instead of studying

friendtwo: like studying wasn’t making u lose ur mind too !!

username: y/n studying to be a doctor is so sick

username: ur the coolest wag

username: bro i’m a nursing student and i’m dyinggggg idk how u do med school

yourusername: me neither tbh

username: imagine studying to be a DOCTOR and BOTH of ur bfs are f1 drivers, that’s actually insane

username: i wanna be u

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; my loves 🧡always cheering for you both 🫂🧡] [caption 2; time for clinicals 😣 ( will watch race highlights after sigh )]

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; finally in my happy place after weeks and weeks of studying and clinicals 🤍🤍] [caption 2; my pretty boys 🫶 can’t wait to be a doctor and see them in the er from doing stupid shit🧡🧡🧡 ( stop jumping on the bed before one of you hurt your head PLEASE) ]

[dearlyjun]

5% tint ☆ c. yeonjun

☆ PAIRING: sugardaddy!yeonjun x collegestudent!reader (f)

☆ GENRE: smut (18+ readers only! dont make me block you)

☆ SUMMARY: you didn't think that doing well on an exam would mean that you would be fucked in the front seat of a porsche; good thing your sugar daddy has 5% tint.

☆ WORD COUNT: 1.2K

☆ WARNINGS: gendered terms are used (girl), semi public sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, lots of praise from yeonjun, yeonjun drives a porsche (I think its a valid warning), yeonjun is wearing rings, making out, creampie kink perhaps?, dirty talk, obviously car sex!! lmk if i forgot anything its almost 1am and im an old lady.

☆ AUTHORS NOTE: so heres part of the concept that I literally could not stop yapping about if I tried. combining my interests here: a hot man taking care of me and a porsche of my dreams. I am actually considering making this a series, with a backstory and everythingg so lmk your thots :)

a big thank you to @silvergyus @nightlyawnzz @hearts4huening for being my beta readers for this, and I may use your services in the future.

CLICK HERE TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST!

walking to the front of your lecture hall, you collected the results from your latest exam. After finding your name in the pile of papers, you could barely contain your excitement when you saw the boldly printed 100% on the front.

Yeonjun would be so happy.

You quickly walked back to collect your things, before pulling out your phone to text him since he was picking you up from class.

you: going to be walking out in a few. I have good results!!

yeonjun: ahh my smart girl. I'm waiting for you out front.

Soon after you walked out through the double doors of the building that you were in, spotting Yeonjun’s gray Porsche parked up front.

Yeonjun had a pretty dark window tint, so you couldn’t see inside that well. You opened the door, and slid into the passenger seat; Yeonjun beaming.

“There’s my girl.” He had the biggest smile on his face. “Look at you, dressed all cute.” He was referencing your plaid skirt and big crewneck sweatshirt that was actually his.

“Did you just come from the office or something?” You asked him, leaning in to kiss him. “You look so nice.” You smoothed your hand over his button down dress shirt, making him smirk.

“Now let me see this test, huh?”

“Okay.” You quickly dug the scantron out of your folder that you had. Handing it over to Yeonjun, leaning over his center console as he examined it.

He was smirking.

“Yeah, one hundred percent.” You spoke with a huge smile on your face.

“Ah, see I knew you’d do well.” Yeonjun put his hand onto your jaw to kiss you.

You hummed against his mouth, pulling him closer by his shirt. “I missed you last night, daddy.” You kissed him again.

Yeonjun smirked against your lips before pulling away slightly. “Yeah? You know I want you to focus on your school too.”

“I know, but sometimes it’s easier to study when I’m sitting on your lap. You know?” You reached down to feel Yeonjun’s cock, which to your surprise was half erect.

“With my cock inside of you? Princess, you know you can’t focus.”

You remembered the time you swore that you would sit still and study on Yeonjun’s lap while he worked. You didn’t last five minutes before you were fucking yourself on his cock.

You pouted as Yeonjun moved to kiss you towards your neck. “But I’m such a good girl for you, Daddy.”

Yeonjun practically choked back a moan; if his cock wasn’t hard before, it definitely was now. “And I always reward you, don’t I?”

He quickly unbuckled his seatbelt, then went to unbuckle his belt to lower his pants. You let out an audible noise when he finally lowered his underwear, leaky, pretty cock out on full display.

“Go ahead and sit on it, pretty girl.” Yeonjun spoke, shuddering slightly when he swiped the tip with his thumb.

You felt a sudden tinge of shyness when you took off your shoes. Yeonjun could practically read your mind.

“The tints are too dark; no one can see you.”

“Okay, help me.” You answered, slightly laughing at the fact that you were going to climb over the console of a car that cost as much as your parents' house.

“I got you.” Yeonjun held onto you. Before you sat down on him, he pulled the fabric of your underwear out of the way.

“Oh my- fuck, you’re so wet.” Yeonjun gasped. “I’ll slip right fucking in.”

You lowered yourself onto him, and it was painfully slow; making you feel every inch of his cock.

Yeonjun was seconds away from ruining his leather with his fingernails with the way that he was gripping onto the passenger seat.

“Daddy…your cock. Fuck.” You sighed, dropping your head into his neck; taking a breath of his sweet cologne. He was fully inside of you, nuzzled up into that spot that makes your toes curl.

“Yeah, baby I know.” His hands were roaming your thighs and ass. Your underwear was cutting into you, but you couldn’t care less.

You slowly started to grind onto him, trying to find a rhythm in the limited space that you had. Yeonjun looked ahead, subtly watching if anyone walked by his car.

“You look so pretty, you know.” He spoke into your ear. “My dick inside of you in the front seat of my Porsche.” He suddenly gripped onto your hips, fucking you onto his cock.

“You’re my good girl, you know that?”

You couldn’t even answer, just let out a whimper of a moan.

“Repeat it back to me, baby.” His grip was so tight you thought his rings were going to make marks in your skin.

“I’m your…good girl.” You nearly choked on your words. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Yeonjun could already tell by the way that you were clenching around him, and he probably wasn’t going to last much longer himself.

Yeonjun turned your face to look at him in one quick movement. “Yeah? I’m so fucking deep in you aren’t I?” His voice was low; you knew what he was doing.

The sounds of your cunt were obscene; Yeonjun loved every second of it. He studied your face as he angled your hips differently, cockhead hitting so deep that your jaw fell slack.

You’ve never looked so pretty to him. Honors student studying biology. Probably going to end up being a doctor. He knew you’d be decorated in cords at your graduation. But now, he was hitting so deep you couldn’t form a coherent sentence if you tried.

Letting out a rather loud whine when your orgasm finally hit you, Yeonjun kissed you, shushing you. After all, his car only had a tint; not soundproofing.

“Cum in me. Please, daddy.” You were nearly delirious, whimpering expletives. Yeonjun knew you were actually being serious, because you always begged him to. “That’s my reward, right?”

And how could he say no? Not when you were whining, begging as you pulled on his necklace to kiss him.

“You can take it all?” He asked. Stupid question. You always could, even if he had to fuck it back into you.

You eagerly nodded, lips jutting out to a pout before you kissed him again.

“God you drive me fucking insane.” Yeonjun’s last words before letting go of his orgasm that he was trying to hang onto. “You feel so fucking good.”

The fact that he was probably making a mess out of his seat was sent to the back of his mind. He’d deal with that later, because the moan that you let out made it all worth it.

“Fuck.” He was panting. “You have to be quiet.” Grinding his hips with yours; his cock was still inside of you making you slightly wince at how messy everything felt.

“Shit.” You muttered, looking down at where the two of your bodies connected.

“Yeah, I made a fuckin mess.” Yeonjun jokes, his hands roaming your thighs. “We should probably go back to my place….” His voice trailed off like it was a question.

“Hmm?” You were confused. “I thought you texted me earlier that you wanted to go to the Prada store, no?”

“Yes…” Yeonjun bit down on his bottom lip, smirking. “But I don’t think I'm finished with you yet.”

☆ TAGS: @mhasimp666 @yunsbby @sikkkko

(strike through indicates I am unable to tag, please make sure your tagging feature is turned on!)

[jkslipppiercing]

Never Been A Friend | Part 1 | Jeon Jk

♧ synopsis: Sneaky glances across the room weighed with a dozen different meanings left to be unsaid; confusion, desire, lust. He was never a friend, was he?

♧ pairing: brother's bsf!jk, bratty!reader.

♧ warnings: y/n is too drunk to form a sentence, jungkook loves cursing, jungkook is jealous out of his mind, kinda enemies but not really, jungkook calls y/n a brat that he cant stand, someone calls y/n a slut, and that's all i can remember 😙

♧ WC: 1.6K

♧ a/n: hello loves! wrote this in one sitting and it's barely edited, but the intention is there lmao i love you all so much please enjoy! dont hesitate to tell me what you think <3 im like the no.1 supporter for constructive criticism lol okay thank you byeeeee

taglist

index

requests

JK's POV

She whines,

Throws tantrums,

Acts like a goddamn brat for the sake of being annoying,

And I still want her lips around my cock.

Why?

That goes beyond the fucking level of my emotional understanding.

I want her wrapped around my finger. I want her to get on her fucking knees and apologize for all the turbulent feelings she makes me suffer by.

She ruined my night.

I was fucking.

Blowing a girl's back just to lay off some steam. Get the stress of the college life off my shoulders.

But then, she just had to cock-block me.

My best friend’s sister.

Speaking of the twat, he dared to interrupt my one night stand for the sake of his bratty sister.

Usually, I love brats.

My type.

They make sex enjoyable. All the more pleasurable when they try to resist.

Keyword: try.

Because I know for a damn straight fact when a girl wants to be disciplined.

Fucked right and put in her place.

Reminds me of her. Y/L/N Y/N.

Except for one thing, though- she makes my fucking insides churn in all uncomfortable ways.

She doesn’t have a bratty attitude, the bitch has a bratty personality.

Yes, she is indeed a bitch. I can't stand a girl who's always annoying just because she feels like it. She'd never had a valid reason to hate me, and neither did I.

When I first met her, I mean.

She was laughing with her brother having breakfast one time when I came out of my room for painkillers and a glass of water.

Her brother and I were both freshmen in need of a dorm, and we agreed on splitting the rent once in a frat party.

Yes... we were both strangers to each other, but we clicked.

Met through mutuals, and our vibes matched. After living with each other for over six months now, we've grown pretty close.

He's cool, agreed on basic rules like who does the laundry or dishes, helped with assignments, and was always there when needed.

He's a friend. A close one.

A tolerable one.

That can't be said about a certain someone, though.

She scowled at me that day and later told me she didn't like my vibe when I confronted her about it.

Bullshit.

And yet, she's the reason I left a naked girl in my bed and came to this godforsaken club in the first place.

Her brother is here, too, which is why he called me to come pick her up. Said something about her being drunk, and since he had taken a shot or two as well, he couldn't take her home himself.

Or he just didn't want to, because he was also getting laid tonight.

That's proven to be right when I see him making out with a girl near the bathrooms.

His hands grope her all over as she arches into him, which is enough to make me look away.

Sly motherfucker.

Casting my vision toward the main dance floor, I scan the crowd for a short brunette with soft features.

Annoyingly soft features.

So soft that I want to corrupt her. Tear the bratty exterior and dig through the filthy dark side on the inside.

But those features aren't the only things that infuriate the hell out of me.

It's her innocence.

How can a brat be innocent, you may ask?

When my gaze lands on her, my jaw tenses in annoyance.

She sways her hips sensually, eyes closed and mouth open as she slides her hands down her body to a seductive beat following her movements.

I follow the action, eyes unable to tear away from her figure.

Her fingers skim over her neck down to her breasts and then further, the lightness she seems to be handling her body with attending to a grace she always breathed by.

Fuck, I hate this woman.

Hate everything about her.

How she moves.

How she walks.

How she fucking talks.

Runs her mouth like a brat who needs to be handled.

No- not like- is.

She is a brat.

A brat who's oblivious to all the eyes she's attracting.

Including mine.

Fuck.

Her dancing resumes as her eyes stay closed, feeling every beat.

She's enjoying herself.

Not for long.

I school my expression- which had turned into a scowl the moment I set my eyes on her- and begin my stride towards her.

I spot a man doing the same, but she's absolutely mind-numb as she continues to dance with her damn eyes closed.

I was irritated, but now I'm literally fed up.

He's a couple inches shorter than me, wearing a white tee and skinny ripped jeans.

Not to mention, his hair is slicked back by a disgusting amount of hair gel.

Ew.

He approaches Y/N with predatory eyes and a shit eating grin, his gaze set straight on her perky ass.

Which is just barely covered by the tight little dress she's wearing, inching higher and higher up her thighs as we speak.

My steps quicken when I see him reach out, apparently intending to slap her ass.

My blood boils.

White noise drowns out all available access to the outside world as I break out into a jog and reach her just in time.

My hand swiftly slides onto her tiny waist, and I glare at the man whose shit-eating grin is now gone, replaced with confusion.

Y/N's eyes stay closed as she giggles, and it's now I notice how drunk she is.

Bright crimson tints her cheeks and her breath smells of strong tequila, obviously from having taken too many shots.

Isn't she here with friends?

How could they leave her alone like this?

Her brother's here. Her brother is here.

My breath turns heavy, my heartbeat quickening. I have to stop myself from punching the douchebag in front of me into fucking oblivion because I don't know if i'll ever stop once I start.

Fuck.

I try to focus on anything besides her frame that's barely hanging onto me, all the exhaustion from her dancing catching up to her as she fights to keep her eyes open.

Why the fuck is she here all alone? Why did they- whoever she's here with, except her brother- leave her here like this?

Like she's not even aware of where she is.

Like she's not sober enough to be responsible.

Like she's not fucking strong enough to defend herself if anything happened to her.

I might punch a wall.

My grip tightens around her waist, which makes her drowsily lift her head to stare up at me.

She's still shorter than me with heels on, enough to put her neck in an uncomfortable position whenever she looks up at me.

It's adorable.

But that's none of my concerns as the slimy fuck keeps undressing her with his eyes. Makes me want to claw them out with my bare hands.

Repress.

"Wha..." She starts, growing more and more confused as she tries to wrap her head around where the hell she is. "Jungkook? What are you..."

She trails off into a mindfuck, allowing me to set my full focus on the man still staring between us with wariness.

My gaze hasn't worn off him since I saw him fucking reach for her ass, which makes me want to bash his head against the wall.

My breathing turns heavy again.

Repress.

"Off-limits." I bite out with enough to control to shock myself. I'm even more surprised that this motherfucker is still breathing.

His eyes thin into slits as he eyes me suspiciously. "I haven't seen you here the last couple of hours. Thought her sexy ass came alone." His eyes skim over her body, gaze lingering longer than necessary on her breasts.

Guess someone's leaving with no limbs tonight.

"You thought wrong." It takes almost all the last bits of my control to reply with that before I start turning around to leave, Y/N almost falling asleep on my arm.

She clutches the hem of my shirt with a weak grip, like a toddler would its mom.

If I couldn't get here in time, what would've happened?

I catch myself before I overthink it. If I did, I'm afraid I might commit a crime tonight. One of shameless blood and murder-

Repress.

My back is turned to him when I hear a low whistle, which makes me pause, angry enough for my limbs to shake with adrenaline.

"You know, It's often rare for a slut with such a sweet ass to be out here all alone wearing that. Almost like she's begging for a cock-"

The words are barely out of his mouth before my fist connects with his face. The force of my blow got him on the floor, nose fucked and bleeding. Might be broken.

Good. Bare minimum.

I almost straddle him and punch him to his fucking fortunate death.

Almost.

But I have to get Y/N home.

I can't stand this anymore.

I can't stand her anymore.

Coming here alone? Dressed like that?

I mean yes, she did come here with her idiot brother who thinks with his dick, but he's nowhere to be found.

How can someone be so nonchalant to just leave his sister here all alone?

I'm so goddamn confused.

And infuriated.

And...angry.

Fucking fuck.

I need to get her the fuck out of here before i lose my fucking mind.

Fuck me.

The punch I just delivered did little to satiate my thirst for this slimy fucker's blood.

But again, Y/N's more important.

I turn, my panic spiking so high it reaches levels it had never before when I find Y/N out of my sight.

My breathing starts to go abnormal for the nth time this night.

I might develop heart problems.

A sigh leaves my mouth when I spot her by the bars, trying to convince the bartender to give her another shot. Relief floods my system, and my breaths regulate.

I send a quick text the girl- who i already forgot the name of- and tell her to head home. She sends a crying emoji back but agrees nonetheless, telling me to call her back when everything is sorted out on my end.

I have other things to care for.

Or I guess, in this case, a certain person to tend to.

God, It's gonna be a long night.

@hoseokteardrop @nochuel @kaitieskidmore97 @nays2112 @jksoftii @yu-justme @meadow-in-spring @bunnykoos @looneybleus @fushigurosdarling @alpha-mommy69 @junecat18 @xjiminsthighsx @tanniesdolls @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @whoa-jo @ahgasegotarmy116 @jksusawife @frgetmenotes @baechugff @partyparty-yah @army130613210521 @drugerlime @allisonstone @hopekive @llallaaa @tarahardcore @hopetookmysoul @betysotelo18 @harmonic55 @ecrvea @awesomebabyyoda @peterstarkchrishiddleston @pinkrockstar19 @sweetestseoul @luv--youu @mochminnie @coletaehyung @whitelies2248-blog @ash07128 @bangtans-momma @yourbobaeyestell

next

did you like it 👀

@laylasbunbunny @btsnpniff @olimpiiaa @caro134340lina @ohsweetmimosa @lovingkoalaface @httpjeonlicious @t-alyssa-vvv-blog

[sturnsmadl]

loverboy!matt headcannons!

loverboy!matt who buys you your favourite chocolate everytime he goes to the store.

loverboy!matt who is always randomly posting you.

loverboy!matt who gives you a new bouquet of flowers each week.

"i got you your favourite, tulips!"

loverboy!matt who only follows you on all socials.

"why do i need to follow them back? i only have eyes for you."

"she's your mother matt."

loverboy!matt who admires you as u speak.

loverboy!matt who refuses to argue with you.

"yep..your right. sorry princess."

loverboy!matt who constantly picks you up late at night.

"what? i missed you."

"at 2am matt?"

loverboy!matt who refuses to sleep unless he knows your okay.

"why aren't you answering??" "hello?" "are you okay?"

"i was in the shower. im fine."

loverboy!matt who always suprises you with picnic dates.

loverboy!matt who feels horrible when he accidently hurts you.

"omg- im so sorry baby! do you need anything??"

"u stepped on my foot..you didnt stab me.."

loverboy!matt who gets you a care hamper when your sick or on your period.

"aww thank you..you really didn't have to.."

"its the least i can i do."

loverboy!matt who follows you around like a dog.

"matt im going to the fridge"

"crazy. me too!"

loverboy!matt who can't control his smile when he sees you.

loverboy!matt who only has slow and soft sex with you.

"fuck..so tight for me.."

loverboy!matt who's favourite holiday is your birthday.

"happy birthday!!"

"thank you..what is going on.."

"you're having a party!"

loverboy!matt who can look at you and know how your feeling.

loverboy!matt who finally proposes after planning it for so long.

"will you marry me?"

"wait..seriously..?"

loverboy!matt who sobs at the wedding seeing you walk down the aisle.

"your so pretty.."

loverboy!matt who gets a tattoo to remember the day you became his wife.

loverboy!matt who can't leave you alone for a minute.

"matt im showering!"

"just let me in pleaseeee!"

loverboy!matt who knows you struggle to show your feelings well.

"hey...whats wrong?"

"i dont know.."

"okay..shh..your okay."

taglist! @bellaonthelow @muchloveforhacker @moonk1ss3d @sturnclouds @christophersgf @ellizzyy @fratbrochrisgf @phoenix062 @pixxiies @conspiracy-ash @blahbel668 @monroesturnns @gwennybenny @sturnobsessedwh0re @xoxo4chrisss @pixie-sticks-are-good @wurlibydominicfike @anitahunt @ilusa

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Like Lovers Do

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: You and Daemon would dream about marrying each other before both of you became victims of political marriages, very much against your wills: he was sent to the Vale and you to the Riverlands. However, when your lord husband passes away, you return to King’s Landing, only to find out that your childhood sweetheart is now wearing a crown of his own.

A/N: Once again, I wrote too much - this is a long chapter (4.3k)! And full of smut and hot daddy Daemon... And thus concludes this mini-story (which was supposed to be a one-shot but anyways)... Hope you enjoy it! Again, you can always send me Daemon x reader requests!

Warnings: I am not a native English speaker, strong language, smut, strong smut (basically the whole chapter is a big bad smut)

Taglist: @throughgoeshamilton @mirandastuckinthe80s @xicesam @mariamyousef702 @eddiemadmunson @dont-try-pesticide @sweetybuzz25 @hc-geralt-23 @schniiipsel @ttae-yong @syrma-sensei @asiludida164 @kaitieskidmore1 @irmavanity-blog @pax-2735 @trickrtreatart @shanzeyxsyed @random-human02 @scarwicht @xcallmetaniax @instabull @niiight-dreamerrrr @my-dark-prince @stargaryenx @abaker74 @babywolff @sonnensplitter @bi-narystars @softtina @sadmonke @avalyaaa

Your feelings about dining with Daemon were complicated.

On the one side, your heart yearned to spend time with him, rekindle the bond you once shared with him and perhaps find solace in his embrace once again. However, the other part of you seethed with anger, unwilling to forgive him for disappearing from your life.

Oh, and not to mention that he was still married to Lady Rhea Royce, even though one could scarcely call it a marriage.

"I shall regret this night," you muttered to yourself as your handmaid (you had offered to bring her to King's Landing with you when you left the Riverlands) assisted you in getting ready for the evening.

In these thirty years of life, regrets have been my constant companions; what is one more to add to the tally?

"The Prince has undoubtedly ensured a feast fit for royalty, my Lady," Elyse told you while fastening the laces of your crimson dress, fashioned from the finest sateen.

You chuckled softly at the fact of how naive she was. "Oh, sweet Elyse, the dinner itself is the least of my worries." You spoke with a soft voice, only to earn a confused look from Elyse. "Don't you remember when I told you that the Prince and I go way back?"

"Oh, right - you grew up together, didn't you?" She asked, earning a nod from you. After finishing adjusting your dress, Elyse stepped away, taking a good look at you. "You are going to sweep the Prince off of his feet with your beauty, my Lady."

A soft smile formed on your lips. "You have done a wonderful job, Elyse, as always." You told her, causing Elyse's blue eyes to shine. "You may take your leave for today, darling - the hour will probably be quite late when I retire tonight."

After Elyse left you alone in your chambers, you took a deep breath and stood in front of the mirror for a while, lost in that vast ocean of thoughts circling your mind like crazy. You realised that you were scared to get the answers to those questions that had plagued your nights ever since you had left King's Landing.

Nevertheless, you deserved to know why - why he hadn't done anything to fight for you and why he had simply disappeared into the ghosts of your past.

Slowly, your feet took you to Prince Daemon's chambers. The corridors of the Red Keep were cold, the wind inside was giving you goosebumps. The white-cloak keeping watch in front of Daemon's chambers nodded at you upon seeing you and slightly opened the door to inform Daemon about your presence. A few seconds later, you were standing inside, your back facing the closed doors, a large dining table in front of you.

Daemon stood up from his seat and walked towards you, he was all in black except for the red linings on the sleeves of his black tunic. You couldn't help yourself but admire how unearthly he looked - the contrast between his silver hair, pale skin and black clothing added another layer of charm to his beauty.

He was ageing like Dornish wine.

For the third time that same day, the Prince brought your hand to his lips. "You are a feast for the eyes, my Lady."

You felt heat rushing to your face. Truth be told, you couldn't recall the last time you were showered with this many compliments in mere hours. "You flatter me, my Prince."

Daemon pointed at the table with his head. "Shall we?" He asked, earning a nod from you. You sat at the opposite ends of the giant table, which was adorned with all kinds of food: from roast duck to lemon cakes and the finest of wines...

"You remembered," you said, you didn't expect Daemon to remember how much you loved the taste of roast duck.

The Prince chuckled softly as he slowly filled his plate. "It pains me to hear your disbelief in me, love."

You raised a challenging eyebrow at him while you reached for the wine. "Forgive me for not expecting you to remember small details about me, my Prince," you spoke with a sarcastic tone, "I believed you had forgotten that I existed."

Daemon licked his lower lip, you could see that he kind of enjoyed you biting him back at every chance you got; however, you knew very well that you had to thread carefully with his patience. "You would be surprised at how much I still remember, love," Daemon spoke with a deep voice before taking a sip from his wine. "Are you planning on staying in King's Landing?"

You hated the way he changed the subject whenever he felt himself cornered.

"As long as my father holds his position as the Master of Coins, yes, I shall remain in King's Landing." You responded while taking a piece of the roast duck into your mouth. "Mmh, Daemon, this is exquisite!"

A small laughter left the Prince's lips, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"I gather roast duck is not one of the Riverlands' specialities," he muttered. "Are you planning on remarrying?" He asked, he seemed genuinely curious. Since your mouth was full, you shook your head in a short response as you swallowed your food. "A woman such as yourself does surely miss the marriage bed."

Upon hearing his last remark, you let out a loud laughter unfitting of a lady of your station; however, you didn't feel the need to force yourself to follow all those formalities when you were with Daemon - you never did.

The Prince was apparently having difficulty understanding what you found so amusing in his words.

"Miss the marriage bed?" You repeated Daemon's words. "Oh, Daemon, the day I miss my marriage bed, will be the day I ask you to burn me alive with Caraxes."

The Prince clicked his tongue. "Naive of you to think I would allow you to give voice to such absurdity, love."

Once again, you raised an eyebrow. "Absurdity, is it now?" You shook your head in disbelief as you brought your cup to your lips. "You have no idea what absurdity is, my Prince." After drinking all the remaining wine in your glass at once, you placed the cup back onto the table, your eyes finding Daemon's questioning ones. "When the lady wife of a wealthy lord becomes nothing more than a highborn whore, that is an absurdity."

"I believe your words need more elaborating, my Lady." Daemon spoke, his purple eyes moving slowly from your eyes to your lips and to your cleavage, only to return to your eyes once more. You felt warmness spreading through your body, his intense gaze was enough to make you feel dizzy.

Taking a deep breath, you fixed your gaze on the sky visible through the window, which was becoming darker by the minute. "I have told you earlier that my late husband was not able to father any children," you said, you could see from the corner of your eye that Daemon nodded at your words. "When he realised he needn't have taken me wife, he stopped seeing me except to bed me."

Slowly, you turned back to Daemon - there was something else inside his deep, purple eyes that resembled... fury?

"I became one of his whores," you spat out the words as if they were venom. "But I was the noble, wealthy, lady whore whom he could exclusively have for himself." As you spoke, the feelings of anger and disgust you had been trying so hard to suppress suddenly surfaced, making you lose control. "My only duty for the last decade was to let myself get fucked by a fat, old man over and over again! I couldn't even mother any children so that this fucked up fate of mine would be worth it all..."

You saw Daemon clenching his fists and chin in anger but you couldn't understand the subject of his fury - above all, he was the one who had done absolutely nothing to avoid both of your damned fates.

"Why, Daemon?" You asked as you pushed your seat back loudly. "Why didn't you do anything for us? Why did you leave me alone to drown in my nightmares?!"

Your voice was getting louder.

The Prince responded with an indifferent voice, absent from any kind of emotion, which only embittered you. "We were both married to different people, our destinies took us to separate places," he responded, causing your eyes to widen with shock. "It wouldn't have changed anything."

"Is this your excuse for leaving all the messages I have sent unreturned?" You asked with a disappointed tone as you started pacing up and down in his chambers. "You... You are unbelievable, Daemon!"

"Thread carefully," the Prince spoke with a warning tone.

However, at that moment, you couldn't have cared less - you wanted to trample on Daemon's damn boundaries until they were nothing but meaningless lines.

"You could have said something, done something - anything! But instead, you stood by as we were both shipped off - and to what end? You haven't spent a single night with your wife in years!" You shook your head in disbelief as you stopped walking to take a look at Daemon, who looked like an angry dragon that was about to throw fire any moment now.

"You didn't even say goodbye to me."

Then, everything happened all of a sudden.

Daemon roared in fury as he threw his plate (and multiple other plates) off the table, which ended up loudly crashing the nearby wall and falling down onto the floor, causing you to slightly jump in your place. The next thing you knew, Daemon was standing right in front of you, his right hand holding you by your chin with a firm grip, his fingers digging into the flesh of your skin.

"Because it hurt," the words left his lips silently but the power they held was immense. "I didn't bid you farewell, I didn't return to any of your ravens because thinking about you hurt me. So. Fucking. Much."

When he finally let you go, you were able to speak, though your voice sounded weak. "Then why?" you asked. "Why didn't you do anything?"

The Prince let out a scoff. "Because I am the prince, you believe I can do anything, change anything but it is not as simple as that, my Lady." As he spoke, you realised how close he was standing to you and how his figure towered over yours. You could still feel the fury circling him but he was trying to calm himself down. "There were arrangements done far beyond my reach, my station and yet you still dare blame me!"

You raised your hands in the air as you talked. "You talk as if you have tried to change the King's mind back then, my Prince." You spoke with a bitter tone, your index finger pressing against his chest as you hissed between your gritted teeth. "We both know that you did nothing of sorts - you decided it was better to bury your sorrows in some whores!"

Daemon aggressively grabbed you by your wrist, his hold was so firm it made you flinch as you felt the pain shooting through your body. "What would you have had me do?" Daemon's strong voice thundered in his chambers, causing you to flinch another time. "Take you to Dragonstone and make you my wife? Defy the King's will?"

There was a small silence for a brief moment, you could hear Daemon taking deep breaths as he waited for an answer. However, the single word leaving your lips was obviously not the answer he was waiting for.

"Yes."

It was hard to decipher the dark look in Daemon's eyes - it carried hints of anger and fury but also lust and yearning.

As the Prince slowly let your wrist go, you placed both your hands against his chest, his warm breath licking your forehead as you looked up. "Even now, I would have you take me to Dragonstone on dragonback," your voice was seductive, not caring to hide the desires spilling out with every word. "And marry me in the tradition of your House."

Daemon's breaths were getting deeper by the second, he raised his right hand to caress your face with the side of his finger as the other hand rested on your hip. "Such temptation," he spoke with a low tone while his fingers trailed down to your neck. His touch sent shivers down your spine, leaving you yearning for more. "And so eager to be mine, are you not, love?"

You wanted him to do unspeakable things to you.

At that moment, all you could think about was how it would feel to let him fuck you into oblivion - until you couldn't even remember your own name anymore.

"Please, Daemon," your voice was a mere whisper as the Prince leaned into you, his soft lips brushing your neck. "I have waited long enough."

His warm breath against the sensitive skin of your neck made you heave a sigh, which was followed by his lips leaving a small kiss. "For what?" He spoke against your neck. "Say it."

"For you to claim me as yours."

The next thing you knew - Daemon's lips rested against yours.

His lips were hungry, kissing you with so much passion as if he was trying to take away your next breath. Little did you notice that his hands were around your neck, holding your head to allow him to deepen the kiss.

You let out a small whine as Daemon slid his tongue into your mouth, claiming it as his, while pressing his body hard against yours. The heat that took over your body was insane - you felt it getting hotter and hotter with his every touch, with each brush of his lips against yours.

"Daemon," you breathed out his name when he left your lips to kiss your neck while backing you back up until your back ended up touching the cold walls.

A moan left your lips when he sucked on the skin. "Mmh?"

"You have too many layers on."

The naughty smirk he carried - you could swear it alone could make you reach your high right then and there - as he took off his cloak and his tunic was something you wanted to carve into your mind, never to forget. Before he could throw away the clothing, your hands started stroking his bare chest, moving to his well-built arms.

He looked like a Valyrian God.

"So eager, now, are you not?" Daemon spoke against your lips, his tone husky. His hands were wandering around your body, hungrily, making you almost forget how to breathe. "Let me show you how it feels to be fucked befittingly, my Lady."

His fingers quickly found their way under the skirts of your crimson dress, trailing up to the source of heat in your body. Upon feeling how wet you already were, the cocky smirk took its place on Daemon's lips.

You let out a deep breath as Daemon slid two of his fingers inside you, his other hand was holding you firmly from your waist. "I have just started touching you, and yet," the moan escaping your lips echoed in the room when Daemon curled his fingers inside you, "you are fucking wet."

Well, you were not the only person in the room literally aching to fuck - Daemon's trousers were failing to hide his hardness.

"You are one to talk, my Pri..." Before you could finish your words, Daemon found that sweet spot in you, making you cry out in bliss. When his thumb also joined his little game, circling over your clit, your only solution for silencing your cries of pleasure was placing your left hand over your mouth.

However, when Daemon suddenly stopped both stimulations, you were left confused.

Slowly, the Prince removed your hand from over your mouth. "You are not to silence anything, love." He spoke as he began to move all his fingers once again. Your hold against his arms tightened.

Biting your lower lip, you spoke with a voice that sounded no more than a soft cry. "We might get heard..."

"I do not give a fuck." Daemon responded as he brought you nearer to the edge. He breathed out your name. "You are mine, and the whole Keep shall know this."

"Fuck," you let out another moan when Daemon fastened the movement of his thumb against your clit, the heat between your legs was getting hotter with each passing moment. "Daemon, if you don't stop," you were out of breath, unable to open your eyes. "I am going to..."

Before you could reach your bliss, Daemon stopped the magic he had been carrying out with just his fingers, leaving you feeling somewhat empty. As your eyes found his darkened ones, you knew that he was about to rip your dress away from your body.

So before he could tear the exquisite fabric of your dress, you took the advantage of getting rid of his trousers, freeing his erection from the fabric. The Prince inhaled deeply when your right hand wrapped around his length, slowly moving.

"I am going to tear that dress apart," Daemon breathed out huskily as you went down onto your knees.

"Or you can simply take it off, my Prince." You whispered, seduction dripping from your words, before letting your tongue swirl around the tip of his cock.

"Bullshit," the Prince spoke but he was interrupted by a small grunt escaping his lips. "Don't tease me, love."

You clicked your tongue. "But that is where the fun lies." You responded in a naughty manner and wrapped your mouth around his cock, slowly taking him in. Daemon let out a long, low moan when you started bobbing your head.

His hands quickly got tangled in your hair, pushing his length deeper down your throat, triggering your gagging reflex. Careful not to let your teeth touch anything, you quickly pulled back, receiving a questioning look from the Prince.

"You are too big, Daemon," you said while wiping away the saliva from the edges of your mouth. "I cannot take all of you in."

Still, your hand was moving up and down his length. Slowly, you cupped his balls with your other hand, causing the Prince to gasp, his hold on your hair tightening.

"We shall work on that, love," Daemon's voice was husky when he talked, his purple eyes seemed almost black, darkened with lust. "Perhaps if I fucked your mouth every night..."

You let out a moan when the Prince lightly pulled you up from your hair, it was to signal you to stand up but your reaction to him pulling your hair only made his cock throb more.

"Interesting," Daemon whispered against your lips as his hands impatiently undid the ties of your dress, letting it fall to your feet in mere seconds. "You enjoyed that, did you not?"

His hands held you from your ass as he pulled you against his chest, you could feel his naked hardness against your lower stomach. Biting your lower lip, you nodded slowly. As a response, one of Daemon's hands moved to the back of your neck and held you tight while pulling you into a deep kiss.

Well, it was more like clashing tongues and teeth. Your hands were restlessly wandering around his god-like body, never able to get enough - each touch seemed to fuel the fire burning inside you.

A loud moan left your lips when Daemon's hand pulled from your hair, less lightly this time.

The Prince chuckled against your lips. "You are a far dirty girl than I have imagined, love." Without giving you any time to react, he held you up, your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. "That old cunt never let you explore what you like, did he?"

As Daemon let you down onto the sateen sheets of his bed, you shook your head. "I need you to show me, Daemon."

Placing a cushion under your lower back to arrange the height, Daemon licked his lower lip, he was standing at the edge of the bed. "Oh, you need not worry, my Lady," his tip was toying with your entrance, causing your breath to become deeper. "Together, we shall try even the dirtiest, sickest things known to men."

His voice, his eyes, his touch... Everything about him drove you crazy.

When Daemon gently pushed himself into you, you both let out a deep breath as he gave you some time to adjust to his size. When you nodded at him, he quickly picked up a steady pace. Still, you weren't quite sure you were getting everything out of this position. Hence, you decided to place your legs against Daemon's shoulders instead of having them wrapped around his waist.

The next time the Prince thrust into you, a loud cry of bliss left your lips without you having any control over it.

"Fuck!" You cried out as Daemon thrust deeper with a smirk on his face. "Daemon, you are so..."

"I know," he grunted the words while leaning into you. "Tonight, you shall see the stars, my Lady."

To let you try something else, the Prince picked up his right hand from the bed to wrap it around your neck. His grip was not harsh, he just applied the right amount of pressure while thrusting deep into you.

You could swear your eyes tried to roll behind your head. Several moans wanted to escape your lips but they came out muffled.

The way you reacted only made Daemon harder, as if it was even possible.

He grunted your name against your neck as he let go of you, placing the hand on your breast to toy with your nipple. "You are making me crazy," his voice was low.

"You," you were out of breath, "are sending me to another dimension, Daemon."

The Prince sucked on your neck. "I am not done with you yet."

You sent him a confused look when he abruptly stopped and pulled out of you; however, you were not expecting the Prince to literally flip you onto your stomach.

"On your knees," he commanded with a husky voice, which somehow turned you on even more as you stood on the bed on all fours. After thrusting into you, Daemon spoke once again. "Rest on your upper body and lift up your ass."

You adjusted your position as he instructed you and as soon as he picked up the pace, your cries started filling the chambers. He was continuously hitting the sweet spot inside you that sent your head over the clouds.

"Daemon," you cried out his name, "I am getting close."

"Not yet," the Prince hissed the words as you screamed into the sheets of the bed, knowing very well the muffled sounds could still be heard from the outside.

When Daemon's hands got tangled in your hair, you felt anticipation quickly growing inside you. The moment he pulled your hair with enough strength to lift your head up from the bed, your cries of pleasure only got louder.

"Daemon!" You cried out, the Prince picked up the pace with each passing second, and the slapping of his body against yours echoed inside. "Oh, fuck! I am coming, Daemon, if you don't..."

Apparently, the Prince had decided to give you your orgasm. Instead of slowing down, he let your hair go to hold you firmly from your ass with both hands as he fucked you into oblivion.

At that moment, you simply felt like an animal.

The sateen sheets wrinkled in your palms as you reached your orgasm, your whole body shaking as you screamed out Daemon's name, your sight becoming blurry.

After what felt like hours, when you finally came down from your high, Daemon turned you onto your back with a swift movement, pulling out. Before you could comprehend what was happening - mostly because your mind was still in that post-orgasm fog - Daemon finished himself with two strokes of his hand.

His warm seed landed on your stomach, on your breasts and on your face as the Rogue Prince grunted your name over and over and over again.

When Daemon let himself fall down next to you, you were finally coming back to reality. You slowly pushed yourself to sitting, not caring about the cum flowing down your cheek or your breasts.

Daemon chuckled softly. "You have no idea how dirty you look, love." His voice was low but one could still hear the remnants of your love-making.

With the idea creeping into your mind, a naughty smirk formed on your lips. "Perhaps the Prince would like me to take a hot bath," you spoke as you started playing with his silver hair. "So that he himself can join me as well."

His laugh was like a song to your ears. "I assume you could not get enough of me."

You shook your head. "I have waited more than a decade so that I could have a taste of you," the words left your lips in a bitter manner even though that was not the intention. "And that cock of yours is a forbidden blessing."

Daemon straightened as well, sitting next to you. "About that," he took your hands between his, his tone was so soft it resembled his sixteen-year-old self. "I intend to talk with my brother on the morrow."

Your eyes widened with shock as you asked with a shaky voice. "About... us?"

The Prince nodded while he left a small kiss on your forehead. "I shall take you to Dragonstone, on Caraxes, and make you my wife," he whispered. "Queen of the Narrow Sea."

[liveyun]

EYES LIKE STARS | 1

banner by the amazing @itaeewon 🌧️

summary. “He was everything you were not. He was perfect—too perfect. Always kind, always excelling, always loved by everyone, even your own parents, like a reminder of everything you weren’t. And you hated this. You hated him. You hated the way he always included you, the way he tried to help, as if you ever needed his pity. He was always there, almost like a shadow you could never escape.

Returning to the town that holds both your earliest memories and silent secrets, you’re forced to confront not only the unsolved knots you’d left behind all those years ago, but the boy who was always at the center of your pain. Whose eyes have always seen right through you : Jungkook.”

title. Eyes like Stars

pairing. Jeon Jungkook x afab reader/oc

status. ongoing

rating. M (18+)

genre. e2f2e2L (you get it), angst, drama, romance, boy next door sorta situation, emotional baggage, slow burn, eventual smut

wc. 9.5k +

warnings. (for this chapter) coarse language, OC being in denial and this is just the beginning LOL , parental negligence / toxic parenting , flashbacks, slight mention injuries (knee scraping) and crying , panic attack :( , oc is kinda.. eh, SOMEONE is introduced 😵‍💫, this is it for the first part, lmk if i missed any other warnings, “english isnt my first language” so can contain grammatical errors, not proof read + the last part omfg

← previous | chapter index | taglist | main masterlist | next →

Some doors, no matter how tightly shut, always find a way to open.

The sun was up after the drizzle, which bathed the town in a subtle golden haze, the kind that made everything feel a little too warm, a little too nostalgic. You walked slowly, almost as if your feet were dragging against the weight of the years you’d left behind. A part of you did not really want to be here, but a greater part of you knew you cannot continue to run away from everything like you always have.

Such a coward.

Your home stood at the end of a narrow lane, tucked away like a secret that had been kept for far too long, to the point you felt like it maybe didn’t exist anymore. The house looked the same, yet different, almost as if it had aged in your absence - funny, because although it looked pretty worn out, nothing really felt off. Or did it? The paint was chipped, the garden overgrown, the lawn and grass both destroyed.

But it was still the place you’d once called home—a place that had witnessed more arguments than apologies, more silence than understanding. You pause, staring at the old, browned door as if it’s a portal to another world— always has been— to a world where you were always second best, always compared, always found wanting, longing, no— yearning for the bare minimum. Your own once called home which always felt like a far distant place for you.

It still does.

The windows stare back at you, blank and lifeless, just like the eyes that used to watch you so closely, judging every move, every breath. You don’t want to go inside, but you know you have to. You cannot keep on running away anymore. You are tired, but you dont exactly know if doing something which has your gut churning with disdain can be exactly considered as rest or relaxation.

You notice that the shabby WELCOME door mat which was once a home for mites is no longer at the front door anymore.

As you drew closer, your eyes involuntarily flickered to the house next door. The garden was well-tended, prettiest of the flowers scattered in the greenery in full bloom, just like how you’d remembered.

As always.

The house stood as if nothing had changed there— as if time had preserved that house and all its memories in a neat little bubble. Always so full of life, always so welcoming. You bite down the bitterness which floats up your chest at the thought. Push down the small voice in the back of your head which insists that you will never be welcomed the way a static house makes you feel.

A part of you, the part you’d tried to bury, kick away— wondered if he still lived there. If his parents still looked out from the same windows, waiting for their golden boy to come home.

Who cares.

You quickly turned your gaze away, focusing on the worn steps leading up to her own front door. Your hand trembles as you reach for the doorknob, the cold metal biting into your skin. You’d previously informed your mum through a text message that you will be visiting them, which you didn’t bother or have the energy to check if she’d actually seen.

Your hand on the knob stills, and you purse your lips in thought. You’d decided it’d be a bit courteous to knock instead of just barging in — perhaps some basic decency to spare — although if it was your own home — as if it ever was. You raise your fists to knock— and the door creaked open before you could really.

There she stood.

The same face that had greeted you with tired smiles and even more tired expectations, back in the days when her face was devoid of wrinkles, and full of youthful beauty. The same person who’d cradled you on her bosom and cherished you; the same person who at least tried to make an effort to mend some broken ties, although when she was very well aware it was way too late.

“You’re back,” your mother said, her voice heavy with something that wasn’t quite disappointment but wasn’t quite relief either. She sounded tired— and your mind partially thought if it was because of you. You really felt overwhelmed by emotions, you really did.

You felt the back of your eyes burn with tears — that familiar feeling which you’d remembered was a staple one when you used to live here back in your teenage days. You wanted to engulf her in a hug and just cry, hoping that you could just, for once, forget about whatever had ever happened, and truly be a child once again.

“I’m back,” you reply, deciding to push aside any fleeting emotions which dared to threaten you. You stepped inside as soon as your mom moved aside and let the familiar scent of home—of old furniture — of broken communication — of forgotten dreams —wash over you.

— — —

Inside, the house was just as you’d remembered it. The wallpaper was still peeling in the corners, the furniture still arranged the way it had been since you were a child. It smelled like old wood, dust, the old sandalwood diffuser — and something bitter that lingered in the air, like the remnants of a fight that never really ended.

The walls seem closer than you remember, the space smaller, suffocating. Everything is the same, yet different, distorted by the journey of time and the weight of all that’s been left unsaid. Was any of the furniture ever even moved ever since you’d left? You’re in doubt.

However, the air was thick with unspoken tension, a tension that had always existed— but was now more prominent, more suffocating. You could feel the weight of your mother’s gaze on you, as if she were waiting for her to say something, anything, to break the silence that had settled between them like thick snow.

Although it’s been so long, surprisingly, you didnt really have anything to break the ice with.

Or even if you did, you didn’t want to.

You move through the house on autopilot, your feet carrying you to the living room where you remember the echoes of your parents’ voices being the loudest. You felt disgruntled — upset, at how memories of your parents fighting are the only prominent thing you can remember vividly inside this house. You wanted to laugh ; you can almost see them standing there, locked in yet another battle of wills, their words sharp and cutting, slicing through the air like knives, and you— you ?

Perhaps standing in some corner with your favorite old teddy bear, covering your ears the best you could, trembling with sobs, wondering if this would ever stop. Their words, though, are like a very vague memory to you. Almost as if someone is tingling a metal glass in the back of your head, far away, and the echoes which reach you are the only thing audible.

They were always fighting, always tearing each other apart, and you were always caught in the crossfire, collateral damage in a war that wasn’t even yours to fight.

But it was you who paid the price, every single time.

You hear footsteps, and your throat goes dry. The realization that you recognize the footsteps is beyond disturbing to you, as the fact that you even know who the owner of the footsteps is.

From recognising footsteps to vehicle horns, you grew up, and this would never not be able to turn on a switch in the back of your head. You knew the footsteps, their urgency, or even their tone, may you be called crazy. And you perhaps are delusional to think that maybe these steps are rather relaxed and slow. . .

perks of growing in a strict family, you guess.

Your father emerged from the kitchen, his steps slow and deliberate. His eyes, now very much lacking of the light they used to radiate, widen ever so slightly, but then again, come back to their usual resting form. Almost as if he tried to mask his. . . disappointment?

You weren’t sure, and his expression wasn’t one of happiness, either.

He looked older, more worn, but his eyes held the same disapproval you had seen so many times before. The kind of disapproval that was never voiced but was always felt.

A kind of disapproval you felt in your veins even before you were faced to force it, almost as if it was imprinted deep in your veins, that no matter what you’d do, you’re going to get this stamp of resentment passed onto you.

“Long time,” he muttered, his eyes flicking over yours as if assessing the damage of the years. The silence which has stretched all over these years. You were surprised that he even decided to speak up, remembering the time when you departed.. wasn’t exactly as serene as a teary goodbye sounded like, but that was a memory you refused to unlock.

“Yeah,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

You grimace at how dry you sounded, but you couldn’t help it. Maybe because it’s partially the fact that you didn't know what to answer, or maybe because..

Well.

You stood there, the three of you, now, in the cramped living room that had never felt like a home to you. You wonder if it did to them too, or was it just the forced idea of it being a home to rest their heads in made them used to the idea that it was a home. Misunderstandings which haunt you, as their child, you sure are to know that they must haunt them too.

You were someone who tried fixing them, who never once tried to do that themselves, right in the place where it all began, pretending it was home, when all it ever felt like was a place they were too tired to leave.

The silence in the room felt heavy, oppressive, broken only by the faint ticking of the old clock on the wall which seemed to drag time over and over.

It once again felt like their eyes pierced your very own soul, trying to burn you with their gaze.

“I’ll get dinner started,” your mother echoed, turning away before anyone could respond. It was easier, you supposed, to keep busy than to confront the reality of your return.

Or her expectations. Who knows.

You nodded, more to yourself than to anyone else, and followed your mother into the kitchen. You weren’t surprised that your father opted to go outside — a habit you’d recall which was so frequent back in the olden days when everything was a frenzied mess. Either he used to be out puffing out nicotine, or simply. . . didn’t return home until he felt like it.

— — —

The kitchen was smaller than you’d remembered, or maybe you’d just grown up. The shelves were no longer as tall as Burj Khalifa to you, and neither were the long random cabinets— who were the same dull brown, the countertops cluttered with the same appliances that had seen better days.

Your breath stuttered at how even the products you’d seen were the same, not a single new thing filled there— from the good ol’ crunchy cereal cornflakes (which was barely even consumed for breakfast,) or the chilli crisp you’d loved to drizzle on top of nearly any dish you’d had.

Truly, nothing really had changed.

“You’ve been gone a long time,” your mother’s voice reached out to you as you nearly flinched, not having expected her to begin a conversation. She was diligent in her chore; her question was like a soft command which demanded an answer, not looking up from where she was peeling potatoes, with that same old lilac handled peeler.

“Yeah,” you repeat, this time truly not knowing what else to say. To say you felt like a dumbass was an understatement; because truly, after so long, you seem to have lost the spark to even think to answer.

However , you didn’t want to explain yourself, didn’t want to justify why you’d stayed away for so long. You didn’t owe them that. You didn’t owe them anything.

At least, that’s what you told yourself. It felt better that way.

The silence returned, heavy and uncomfortable. You found yourself staring out the small kitchen window, your gaze drifting to the house next door. You could see the top of the garden wall, the vibrant green of the plants that lined it.

It was strange how one small thing could hold so many memories, how one small thing could make you feel so much. Much more than being inside of your own house ever did, or ever could.

Yet, something about it feels different now, like a memory you’ve revisited too many times, its edges blurred with the weight of all you’ve carried inside you for decades.

You can almost see him there, in the yard, surrounded by laughter that wasn’t just his—it was a magnet, he was like a magnet, pulling everyone into its orbit, everyone except you. You were always on the outside looking in, (and it’s nearly ironic how you are now too,) your heart a silent witness to the joy you could never touch, never reach.

Even when he reached out, trying to pull you into that magnetic circle of warmth, you resisted. Your pride was too wounded, your envy was too sharp. How could you join in when every smile of his was a reminder of everything you could never be?

.....

Fuck.

You quickly look away, focusing on the mundane task of setting the table, very well knowing that your mom is gonna do that again. But the curiosity lingered, like a small fucking bug, a small, nagging feeling that you couldn’t quite shake out of you.

You did not want to think about him. You did not come here all the way to remember someone who has always just,. . . you sigh, gritting your teeth. Here were you again, fretting and sweating. Your mind whirred, not wanting to remember the way his smile had once made you feel both seen and invisible at the same time.

— — —

You decide you could take a walk around to fuck around and.. uh, find out, maybe? (You weren’t sure what exactly, though.)

As you maneuver through the hallway, your gaze drifts to the old family photos hanging on the wall. They seem. . out of place, like relics from a time that never really existed, or more like pieces on . . a museum? A museum where no one cared for its content , and everything was just randomly added to make something out of nothing.

You were always smiling in those pictures, but it was a smile that never reached your eyes—a smile that hid the exhaustion inside you. And there, in the corner of every photo, was him.

Even in those memories, those old photos, he was perfect. The golden boy with the bright eyes and the easy smile. His eyes were so bright and full of a happiness that seemed to come so naturally, would crinkle at the corners when he smiled—an easy, effortless smile that lit up his entire face.

His hair, always a little tousled from running around, caught the sunlight in a way that made it glow, adding to the image of him as the golden boy. You remember the way his front teeth, slightly larger and giving him that bunny-like appearance, would peek out when he grinned, adding a touch of innocence to his already charming features. He’s grinning widely in this picture, his nose crinkled up and his fingers poised in a victory sign, aligned to his face, right above his eyes, a smile so infectious that you feel your lips stretch to a smile even before you know it.

Your heart drops to your ass.

You’re smiling.

You can still hear their voices,though. Dripping with disappointment every time they said his name, their expectations pressing down on you like a weight you could never lift. You were expected to be someone’s walking copy— perfect and what not. You were the one who couldn’t measure up, the one who always fell short, who always came last in the race.

You take a deep breath, but it feels like you’re inhaling shards of glass, each breath painful, deep and cutting. The silence in the house is deafening, only the distant noise of your mother chopping up vegetables with that same dull thud against the chop board audible.

It doesn’t take you long to realize that the absence of your parents’ voices is more suffocating than their arguments ever were. You had always wished for the fighting to stop, but now that it has, you find yourself wishing for the noise, the chaos—anything to drown out the silence that presses in on you from all sides.

Maybe you had finally gone insane.

You had run away from it all. From the piercing noises, comparison, disdain, disappointment, everything. You were so young back then, with no knowledge of the outside world or its secrets.

You’d try to settle in different parts of the world, failing miserably each time because that feeling of something missing in your soul— that deep longing and yearning for anything that wasn’t as quick as getting a quick whiff of dopamine.. never quite left following you.

And now, here you are, back where it all began, and nothing has changed. Except, perhaps, you. You’re not the same girl who left this place. You’ve seen too much, been through too much. The world has carved its mark on you, left you scarred and weary, and you’re not sure if there’s anything left of the girl you used to be.

But as you stand there, looking out at the endless pictures which hang on the old plastered walls where the past that still haunts you, you realize something.

You’re not just angry anymore.

You’re tired.

Tired of carrying this weight, this burden of resentment and hurt. Tired of blaming all the misunderstandings that were woven into the delicate fabric of your mind as you grew up, to someone who perhaps wasn't even slightly related to your pain.

Perhaps, just perhaps, it wasn’t really him you despised, but the circumstances that had pushed you to see him as the source of your pain, which had settled like dust in the chambers of your heart. The misunderstandings that had tangled themselves into the delicate fabric of your mind as you grew up, weaving him into the narrative of your suffering, were unfair to you both.

It felt easier to blame him than to confront the truth—that your pain had roots far deeper than just one boy with a bright smile and kind heart.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to let go.

The thought surprises you, shakes you to your core. Where the fuck did that come from?

The thought not only surprises you, but mostly, scares you. You take a cautious step back. It comes with a dozen questions which you fear that you don’t know the answers to, or are way too confused to even think about them.

You’ve held onto this anger for so long, let it define you, shape you. Who will you be without it? Can you really let go of something that has been a part of you for so long?

Did it really take you this long to realise this, all that, too in the place where you desperately ran away from?

You don’t have the answers, not yet. But standing here, in this place where it all began, you think that maybe you’re ready to start looking for them.

And that scares you more than anything else.

You find yourself staring at a sketchbook, after dinner, which was all just . . . once again, all silence. You remember how you realised that the food tasted bland, despite having a home cooked meal after nearly a decade. You tried adding salt till it was way too salty, and you had to gulp down each morsel because it became too bitter for your taste. The suffocating silence was broken when the bubbling hot stew burnt your tongue, as you yelped in pain. The only relief you got was gulping down a whole bottle of iced water from the fridge.

Your tongue feels numb now. Great.

Your eyes roam over the sketchbook again, its once pristine pages now yellowed with age. It was a relic from your childhood, buried deep in the attic with dust for years until your return home unearthed it. As you trace the lines of the drawing on the first page, you remember the day you made it—a simple scene of a house on a hill, surrounded by trees and bathed in the warm glow of a sunset, and those huge “V” shaped birds marked randomly near the sun.

You remember that you were so proud of that drawing, each line and color carefully chosen by your younger self, an attempt to capture a world that felt safe and beautiful.

An imaginary place where you’d even thought of making stick figures to show you and your parents, a world where they lived happily, but the vague pencil traces underneath the pastel scribbling show that you’d decided it was better without it.

But the memory of showing it to your parents is what lingers most. You remember how your excitement had bubbled over as you presented the drawing to your parents, your young heart brimming with pride. You’d spent hours on that piece, the house on the hill, the yellow-ish hues of the sunset, the trees swaying gently in the imaginary breeze. You thought it was the best thing you’d ever created.

But when you placed the sketchbook in front of them, eager for their approval, their reactions were far from what you had hoped.

Your mother’s eyes had flickered over the page, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t say anything at first, just handed the sketchbook over to your father, who barely glanced at it before returning to his newspaper. It was your mother who finally broke the silence, her voice flat and dismissive. “It’s… fine,” she’d said, and that single word was like a bucket of cold water on your excitement, your hard work.

You remember vividly, how your heart sank, how the colours of your drawing seemed to dull right before your eyes. How hours of scribbling felt like it’d all been to waste. The pride you’d felt moments before quickly evaporated, replaced by a hollow ache in your chest. You were too young to understand why her words stung so much, but old enough to know they did.

But then your mother’s tone shifted, a hint of something sharper creeping into her voice. Her eyes, dark and clear, were on you. “You know,” she’d continued, “Jungkook showed us a drawing he did just last week. It was a landscape too, but he added so much detail. The way he captured the mountains and the way the light reflected on the water… It was really impressive. His technique is really improving.”

Your father chimed in, not even looking up. “Yes, he’s always had a good eye for these things, hah. Natural talent, I suppose.”

You’d just stood there in the corner, your limbs feeling way too weak and shaky to hold you up.

You’d tried to keep your expression neutral, tried to swallow the hollow pain in your chest, but it was no use. The resentment boiled inside you, twisting something in your chest until all you could feel was the unfairness of it all. You had wanted to create something beautiful, to show them what you were capable of, that you could do better, but instead, your drawing had become just another reminder of how you didn’t measure up.

The sting of their words burned hot behind your eyes, and before you knew it, tears were blurring your vision. You didn’t want to cry in front of them, didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing how deeply they had hurt you. So you bolted from the yard, the sound of their conversation fading behind you as you ran, feeling even hurt that none of your parents bothered to ask about where you were going.

But your vision was too clouded by tears, and as you reached the stairs, you’d feel your foot catch on the edge of a step. You stumbled forward, eyes widening, your arms flailing as you tried to catch yourself, but it was too late. You’d fallen, hard, the impact of your knee against the hardwood sending a sharp jolt of pain through your leg.

You remember the way your mother had smiled when she talked about Jungkook’s drawing, a soft, admiring smile that she rarely directed at you. It wasn’t just the critique of your work that hurt—it was the realization that, in their eyes, Jungkook would always outshine you. No matter how hard you tried, how much effort you put in, he was the golden child, the one who could do no wrong, while you were just… there.

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, partly from the pain, but mostly from the overwhelming sense of rejection and inadequacy. You sat there on the stairs, your knee scraped and bleeding, the ache in your chest even worse than the one on your knee. The drawing that had once filled you with pride now felt like a cruel joke, a reminder of how you would always fall short, no matter how hard you tried.

You wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand, angry at yourself for crying, angry at them for making you feel this way, and angry at Jungkook for being the perfect son they never had. The resentment grew deeper, and with it, so did the belief that you were never going to be good enough for them, no matter what you did.

— — —

The moon is full overhead when you finally change into some comfortable PJs and finally feel sleep knock on the back of your eyelids and exhaustion making its way to move gradually along your body. Today wasn’t exactly eventful, but rather a concoction of memories which tickled and stung you like a thousand bees over and over.

You’ve decided to keep the windows open, . . .for tonight, atleast, because you do not dare sleep without feeling suffocated here. It sounds silly, but having nice ventilation feels. . . fresh, or more so.

You were around fourteen, you think, as you remember sitting on the edge of the playground, kicking at the dirt with the toes of your worn sneakers. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the field, and you could hear the other kids shouting and playing, their voices mingling with the distant hum of traffic.

You weren’t interested in joining them. Your eyes were fixed on a figure in the distance, one you knew all too well.

Jungkook.

He was standing by the swings, laughing with a group of boys who seemed to hang on his every word. His dark hair fell into his eyes as he pushed it back, and his smile—God, that smile—was so bright, so beautiful, it almost hurt to look at. You hated that smile. You hated how perfect he seemed, how effortless everything was for him. And you hated how, no matter what you did, you could never seem to escape his shadow. No wonder the girls were so hung up on him, even the class president— it was ridiculous.

That day had started like any other, with your parents reminding you how you should be more like Jungkook. They praised his grades, his athletic abilities, and his charm. Either a direct implication of “Why can’t you be more like him?” or something like “You know, Jungkook— blah blah blah, all that bullshit about how he was better than you in every aspect. Even if it was the topic of increasing acne on your face, not realising—or maybe not caring—how their words cut you down. You knew they meant well, or maybe not, but each comparison felt like a knife to your heart, a reminder that you would never be good enough.

That you’ll never be him.

You were lost in your thoughts when you felt a presence beside you. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Hey,” Jungkook said, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “Why are you sitting here alone?” His voice was always so soft. So gentle.

You hated his voice. Why did he sound so. . . sweet ? so smooth, almost with a slight undertone of a rasp. Why did it make you want to surrender and break down into the frustration which was pent up inside you since ages?

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to speak. Your throat felt tight, your chest heavy. You wanted to tell him to go away, to leave you alone, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Because as much as you resented him, wanted him away from you, you somehow wanted him near you, a feeling which was hugely perplexing to you. It was a twisted, painful contradiction that you didn’t fully understand, nor you’d ever wanted to.

Jungkook sat down beside you, right on the dusty ground, his knee brushing against yours. The contact sent a jolt, a feeling of fleeting emotions through you, but you didn’t move away. Instead, you kept your eyes fixed on the ground, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears that were threatening to spill over.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Of course he’s gonna be concerned.

And that was the thing about Jungkook—he was always so kind, so considerate, even when you didn’t want him to be. It only made you feel worse. It only made you feel like utter shit, like you were not meant for anything, not even basic human compassion.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your emotions in check. “I’m fine,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook didn’t seem convinced. He shifted closer, his shoulder pressing against yours. He smelled like baby powder mixed with sweat. Irritating. “You know you can talk to me, right? If something’s bothering you.”

You almost laughed at the irony. How could you talk to him when he was the source of so much of your pain? When everyday you had to just, suffer because of him? How could you tell him that every time you looked at him, you felt like you were drowning in your own inadequacy? That every time he succeeded, it felt like another reminder of your failures? While he was always praised, always encouraged, while you were left to wonder why your efforts never seemed to measure up?

But instead of saying any of that, you just nodded, giving him the answer he wanted. Because you couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing you as weak, as vulnerable. You couldn’t let him know how deeply he had affected you.

There was a long silence between you, the kind that felt like it was stretching out forever. You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, feel the tension in your chest building with every passing second. And then, just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, Jungkook spoke again.

“You know, you’re really talented,” he said, his voice slightly higher than usual, a habit you hate to have noticed when he gets excited about something. “I just saw your abstract sketches the other day. Holy shit dude, they’re amazing!”

You didn’t know if your heart hammering in your chest sounded more or the silence after his praise did. He, however, didn’t stop there.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

His words were meant to be comforting, but they only served to twist the knife deeper. Because at that moment, you realised that he didn’t understand. He couldn’t. To him, everything came so easily—success, praise, admiration. But for you, it was a constant struggle, a battle you fought every day just to keep your head above water.

You turned to look at him then, really look at him, not caring if your eyes are brimming with unshed tears or if your nose is runny with snot and tears.

And for the first time, you saw the boy behind the perfect image. There was a softness in his eyes, a sincerity that made your heart ache. And for a fleeting moment, you wanted to believe him, to believe that maybe, just maybe, you were more than the sum of your insecurities.

But then reality came crashing back, and the bitterness you had tried so hard to suppress bubbled to the surface.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice flat, on the verge of cracking, devoid of the warmth you knew he was expecting. “But I don’t need your pity.”

Jungkook blinked, his doe eyes widening, taken aback by your sudden harshness. “It’s not—”

“Just leave me alone,” you’d hissed, standing up abruptly. You didn’t give him a chance to respond before you turned and walked away, your heart pounding in your chest, your blood rushing onto your face. You could feel his eyes on your back, but you didn’t dare look back. Because if you did, you knew you would see the hurt in his expression, and you couldn’t handle that. Not when you were already so close to breaking.

And so you ran. Ran so fast, so hard, that you felt your chest constrict and gulp for air— the static breeze feeling like wind on your face as you ran, ran, ran. Ran till your limbs gave away and your head hurt, till you feel your insides eat you up with a strange mix of emotions—anger, regret, sadness.

But most of all, you felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness, even if you felt like you did the right thing. Because in pushing Jungkook away, you had also pushed away the one person who might have understood, who might have been able to help you. . . only if you hadn’t pushed him away.

But it was too late now. The damage was done, and you were left to pick up the pieces alone.

But as you stare at the sketchbook now, under the glowing moonlight, running your fingers over the faded lines of the drawing, the sketches you’d made again — you see it with different eyes—eyes that can appreciate the innocence in those lines, the earnestness of a child who only wanted to create something beautiful. The proportions might not be perfect, almost nothing in those sketches were — but there’s a charm in their simplicity, a warmth in the colors that you hadn’t noticed before. They were all good drawings, you think, not because of their technical skill, but because they were a reflection of who you were back then—hopeful, imaginative, and full of dreams.

And maybe, just maybe, you had been a little too hard on yourself all those years ago.

You hadn’t even planned to be here.

The moment your father casually mentioned that the Jeons still lived next door, you felt that familiar, uncomfortable pressure building in your chest. You didn’t absolutely know why that information passed on, especially when after a heavy restless night of feeling like crap, your muscles aching from exhaustion , your brain unable to process every thought which you’d thought, you were finally up to join your parents for an early evening tea.

His voice was cheerful, like he had no idea the gravity of what he was suggesting, but you felt it immediately. Every time the conversation veered toward your neighbors, it dredged up feelings you weren’t ready to confront. The Jeons—his parents—meant one thing, and ultimately, one thing only: Jungkook.

The mention of their name was enough to send your mind into overdrive, painting images of polite conversation and awkward laughter, images that twisted into something far more unbearable—seeing him. You could already hear the follow-up conversation in your mother’s saccharine sweet voice, “Why don’t you come over and say hello? Catch up with the Jeons?” And worst of all, they’d ask about you. You felt despondent to even think of the conversation, if it ever took place.

You weren’t used to the warmth which Mr. and Mrs. Jeon had shown you throughout the years, which only made you doubt if they ever knew the thick wall of ash between their son and you. They were so copacetically well humored, it almost hurt to be in a conversation with them.

Almost as if you never were used to this form of decency, that it shocked you to your core.

Jungkook’s parents would definitely ask, and you'd be expected to stand there and smile like you hadn't left everything behind. You know they definitely wouldn’t mean anything hurtful, but you do not believe your mind.

Not yet, atleast.

Before your parents could suggest anything more, before they could casually lead you down that path of small talk and forced interactions, you’d mumbled a vague excuse. Something about needing to stretch your legs, or needing some air.

You really did, though.

You’d slipped out the front door like you were running away, and you shook away the bitterness forming in your throat. You weren’t sure where you were going, only that it had to be away from that conversation, away from the chance of seeing him.

As your feet carried you through the familiar streets, your mind raced faster than your heart. The narrow, winding streets were the same, the faded signs on shop windows were the same, but the memories that clung to the air—they were suffocating.

You’d always thought coming back would be simple. Walk down memory lane, see familiar faces, and pretend you were someone new. But the weight of those memories hung over you, each one sharper than the last. With every corner you turned, you felt the tug of your past, a pull you couldn’t quite shake away, no matter how hard you’d tried to shrug it off.

— — —

You found yourself slipping into a small café you hadn’t noticed before, just off the main road, desperate for a reprieve.

What’s the name— 134340? Quite strange, you think, but shrug it off once again. People are creative with their business requirements, even if that means that you probably make out nothing from eyeing the café from outside. except the fact that. . . it’s possibly space themed?

Now that is strange for a coffee shop.

You think that it’s quite new. Or, who even knows. It stands out from the dull shops lit nearby, and there’s quite a buzz which attracts you here, although you’d prefer a quiet café over a bustling one any day.

Well, fuck it.

The smell of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries greeted you as you stepped inside, the hum of quiet conversation and the soft clink of mugs providing a much-needed escape. It’s surprisingly cozy, something you’d never guessed from the odd name and the theme previously. The café is small, actually smaller than most you’ve been to. Though, it’s nice, there are fewer people here, and you quite find yourself at peace already. You chose a table near the back, away from the windows, trying to create some distance from the life outside.

You hadn’t planned to stay long, but the peaceful atmosphere lulled you into a false sense of security. You let out a long breath, allowing the tension to ease from your shoulders as you sipped your coffee. Ha, thisfelt nice. For a few blissful moments, you felt like you could breathe again. Almost like. . . maybe you could handle this return to your hometown after all.

And then, the door chimes.

You barely looked up at first—just another customer, maybe a loner like you, someone else in this quiet café. But then the barista’s voice cut through the room, clear and distinct.

“Macchiato for Jungkook!”

Huh?

Your hand froze halfway to your cup. The familiar sound of his name hit you like a punch to the gut, making your breath hitch.

No fucking way.

Your gaze shot up, almost instinctively, and that’s when you saw him. There, standing by the counter, picking up his drink like it was the most casual thing in the world. Him.

Your heart seemed to lurch into your throat. It couldn’t be him—it couldn’t. And yet, there he was, right in front of you, a few inches away.

The room seemed to shrink around you, your pulse quickening as your eyes locked onto him. You felt yourself gasping for air, your peace long broken. Your body felt suddenly too warm, your chest tightening painfully as every nerve in your body screamed for you to look away.

But you just couldn’t.

He had changed.

The boy you left behind had grown into someone you barely recognized. His back was visible to you— his frame was broader, more solid than you remembered, and his shoulders— God, what the fuck? they seemed to stretch forever beneath the dark jacket he wore. His hair, slightly tousled, deep raven — as you’d remembered— framed his face in that familiar, careless way, but it was sharper now. Defined. There was no mistaking the confidence in the way he carried himself, something he hadn't fully grown into back then.

But what stood out most—what nearly knocked the breath from your lungs—were those— were those. . . tattoos peeking underneath his jacket?

Jungkook's arm, the one that used to be bare, now carried intricate black ink that snaked from his wrist to his elbow, disappearing under the sleeve of his jacket. The lines were bold, winding and curling, and you felt your jaw drop, even if he was standing at a distance. The tattoos seemed to catch the light as he reached for his drink, each motion of his arm drawing your attention like a magnet.

You couldn’t stop staring. The boy you remembered—the one who had always been so kind, so open—had become someone else entirely.

One who stood in stark contrast to the memories you had clung to.

And he was alone.

Jungkook had always been surrounded by people. He was known to be the crowd attractor, always having his admirers petting him by his neck. He was never the type to go anywhere without friends trailing behind him, their laughter filling the spaces around him. But here, now, in this café—he was by himself. There was a stillness about him that you didn’t remember, something quiet and self-assured.

Now, it almost felt like he didn’t need anyone around him to validate his presence. He was comfortable in his own skin, by himself.

That realisation hit you harder than you expected. He had changed in ways you hadn’t anticipated, ways that made your chest tighten with emotions you couldn’t even begin to name.

And then, just as you thought your heart might explode from your chest, Jungkook turned slightly, his eyes sweeping across the café—casually, as if he were taking in his surroundings—and your stomach dropped.

Fuck, fuck. The coffee was so strong, you feel it lurching up your stomach now.

You flinched, ducking your head quickly, heart pounding so loud you thought he might hear it across the room. Did he see you? Could he have recognized you after all these years? Your breath was shallow, uneven, panic rising in your throat as you wrestled with the urge to bolt from your seat.

You weren’t ready for this.

You weren’t ready to face him. Not here, not now. Not when you were still so caught up in your own thoughts, still trying to piece together the fragments of what your brain showed you. You’d come here for a cup of coffee— some peace— and seeing him again, after all this time, felt too much, and too little at once. It was like a bomb, or a bucket of ice cold water thrown directly at you.

It was overwhelming.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for your bag, your movements jerky and uncoordinated. Your heart was racing, and every instinct in your body was telling you to run. But you hesitated, torn between the undeniable urge to leave and the part of you that wanted to look at him just once more. Just to see if he had really changed as much as you thought. Just to see if he, unlike this town, your home, had changed.

But you knew better. You couldn’t stay. Not with your emotions so close to the surface, threatening to spill over. If he saw you, if he recognized you—if he spoke to you— you didn’t know if you could handle that.

Because you know you can’t.

The café, once so peaceful, now felt stifling, the walls closing in on you as your breath quickened. You couldn’t breathe. You needed to get out of here, needed to escape before everything came crashing down.

With one final glance at his figure, standing there by the counter, you pushed your chair back, the screeching sound drawing more attention than you would have liked. But you didn’t care. You grabbed your things and bolted for the door, your pulse pounding in your ears, your steps quick and uneven.

You’d nearly made it. The door was just a few steps away, and all you had to do was keep your head down and walk.

Your heart was still hammering in your chest, the anxiety twisting your insides as you tried to steady your breathing. Jungkook hadn’t seen you—or at least you hoped he hadn’t. You prayed to heavens and hells that he hadn’t. But just as you reached for the door, you saw him lean against the counter, much closer now. Far closer than you had anticipated.

Fuck. Fuck!

The café’s single door was right beside where he stood, and there was no way out without passing directly by him.

Oh no.

You shouldn’t have chosen this café. Was there no other cafés for you to try? Did HE necessarily have to be in the same café as you?

Your stomach churned, your pulse thudding in your ears, drowning out everything else. He was right there. Right there. And you could feel the heat radiating off him even from where you stood. Panic crawled up your spine, making your movements sluggish and jerky. You just needed to keep your head down and walk—walk past him without glancing his way, without catching his eye. But he was so close, and as you stepped forward, trying to make yourself as small as possible, you caught it—his scent.

That familiar scent, one that had changed just as much as he had. He no longer smelled like baby powder. It was manly now, deeper, some sort of an expensive cologne, which was strong on its own— yet soft, almost comforting in a way that made your chest constrict painfully. The scent wrapped around you, making your knees feel weak, and for a second, you nearly lost your footing. You fought the instinct to look at him—to take one glance and confirm that yes, this is the Jungkook you left behind, the one who had grown into a man. But you couldn’t. If you looked at him, you’d be done.

You were beyond cooked.

Your legs carried you forward, faster than they should have, your mind racing with every step. You felt your arm brush something—him, the edge of his jacket maybe, or his hand on the counter—and your pulse spiked violently.

Don’t look. Don’t look.

You shoved the door open, your breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts as you stumbled outside, the cool air hitting your face like a hard slap back to reality.

You were outside. You’d made it. But the world around you was spinning, the street and the sky blurring together as your heart continued to pound in your chest. You leaned against the wall just outside the café, your hand pressed to your chest, trying to catch your breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside you.

Your palms felt uncomfortably clammy and you felt a sweat head run down your temple. Your thoughts were a mess—disjointed. Everything was hitting you at once; you had run away again. You had seen him, been close enough to touch him, and you had run. Just like before.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the ache in your chest spreading as you tried to pull yourself together. It was stupid. So stupid. Stupid, Stupid, Stupid ! You were an adult now, one with full responsibilities for your actions, and yet here you were, fleeing like a scared child.

You took a deep breath, forcing the air into your lungs. Maybe you could handle this. Yeah, you needed to clear your head. It’s just the coffee messing with you. Maybe you could—

“Excuse me?”

Your entire body froze at the voice directed at you.

That voice.

Deep. Smooth. Rich. The sound of it sent a shiver down your spine, catching you off guard, wrapping itself around you like a tether, pulling you back toward the very thing you were trying to escape.

It wasn’t the voice you remembered—but it also very much was— heavier, weighted with a kind of maturity that made your breath catch. The boy you once knew had never sounded like this. This voice was deeper, more assured, like it had weathered years of life since you last heard it. The softness which his voice held in your memory still was back somewhere, but you couldn’t find it. And that hit you hard. He wasn’t that same boy anymore. The boy who used to tease you, who laughed with that bright, carefree chuckle—he was gone.

And now, that very voice was speaking to you.

You slowly turned to face him, your heart thudding violently in your chest as your eyes locked onto his face.

Yeah, this was your end.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Jungkook.

He was right there, just a few feet away. And this close, you could see everything.

The sharpness of his jawline hit you first, carved out and more defined than you ever remembered. It was strong, angular, like someone had taken the softness he once had and sculpted it into something more. . . commanding. His lips, parted slightly as he waited for you to respond, were full and soft, but even they held a sense of control, like every movement was deliberate. Fuck, was that a piercing at the corner ? His nose—perfectly straight, leading up to those eyes.

Those eyes.

Dark, deep, and searching. They hadn’t changed much in shape, but the way they looked at you was different now—more intense, more aware. His gaze wasn’t filled with youthful curiosity or mischief anymore. It was deeper. Grounded. Like he saw more, understood more.

He was a man now.

Your stomach twisted violently, and you had to force yourself to breathe.

Your gaze traveled up, noting the way his thick brows framed his face, darker and more defined than you remembered. They furrowed slightly as he watched you, as if trying to figure out why you were staring, why you hadn’t taken the phone from his hand yet. The small furrow in his brows only made his expression more serious, more focused. He was looking at you—not just glancing, but looking.

His dark, inky black hair brushed just above his brows, a few strands falling forward in that effortless, tousled way. It was longer now, framing his face, giving him an edge that made your chest tighten.

But it wasn’t just his face. Your eyes flickered down for just a second, barely able to handle it. His neck—strong and sinewy, leading to broad shoulders that seemed even broader now in the fitted jacket he wore. He’d filled out—a lot. His arms were no longer just lean muscle from teenage years of sports. Now, they were thicker, more muscular, straining against the fabric of his sleeve. Oh my God.

Your mind raced, every detail crashing into you at once, overwhelming your senses. Your chest felt tight, and you felt like your hands were shaking by your sides.

The more you looked, the more you realized how much had changed. How much you had missed. How much you had run away from?

It felt like the world was tilting, spinning, and you couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop the flood of memories, the weight of time lost, the realization that Jungkook had grown into someone you barely recognized—yet you knew it was still him.

He was still him.

You were losing yourself in it, in all of it, your thoughts spiraling out of control, unable to process the fact that he was standing here, holding something that belonged to you, waiting for you to take it from him.

Your eyes flickered back to his face, your heart clenching painfully. He was watching you, studying you in a way that made your skin prickle with awareness. And yet, as much as he was looking at you, he didn’t know you. Didn’t recognize you. Not yet, anyway.

That hit you harder than you could’ve expected. How could he not know who you were? How could he not see it in your face, in the way you were trembling, in the panic written all over you?

But then again, why would he?

You were no longer the same girl he once knew.

And as his eyes narrowed in mild confusion, his brow furrowing just a little deeper, it became clear—he didn’t see you as the person who had disappeared from his life. Not yet.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asked softly, his voice sending a tremor down your spine. You couldn’t miss the concern in his tone, the slight edge of worry that made your throat tighten even more.

Fuck. Of course he’d be concerned.

You blinked, the world rushing back into focus, feeling like your pupils zoomed like crazy— and suddenly, you realized you had been standing there for far too long, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. Standing there like a damn weirdo.

Your phone. He is holding your phone.

For a split second, your eyes met his, and time seemed to freeze.

His gaze locked onto yours, and for the briefest of moments, something flickered there—something like recognition. You feel your eyes widening, bells ringing at the back of your head. His eyes softened, just slightly, as if he was searching your face for something familiar, something from the past. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that same polite curiosity.

For a moment, you couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Your eyes flickered between his face and the phone in his hand, your chest tightening with each passing second. What should you do? He was right there, right in front of you. He was close enough for yoh to reach out and take back what was yours.

But you couldn’t.

Your hand now actually trembled at your side, your body frozen in place. The air felt too thick for you to gulp in, and your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

“I—” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, trying to force the words out, trying to make your body move. But you couldn’t.

You just couldn’t.

He tilted his head slightly, concern flickering across his face as he waited for you to take the phone. Why is he so concerned!? But you just stood there, rooted to the spot, like your feet had been glued to the ground. You felt the panic rising inside you again, the walls closing in as your chest tightened painfully, slowly.

“I—” you tried again, but your throat was too tight, and the word came out as nothing more than a strangled sound, like a muffled voice.

He took a step closer, and that was it. That was it.

Your body went into overdrive. Without thinking, without even trying to reason with yourself, you turned on your heel and bolted down the street, not caring if people stopped to look at you, thinking if you possibly were either a lunatic or someone who just won a lottery.

You didn’t care. You ran, ran, feeling your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you ran. Your legs felt shaky beneath you, your pulse pounding in your ears as you darted around the corner, as far away from him as possible.

You couldn’t do this.

Your heart was hammering so violently you thought it might burst right out of your chest, and all you could think about was getting away. Far, far away.

You ran till you feel your chest burn, you ran till you felt like your limbs would give up. You ran till you feel like nothing again, you ran till your mind was empty.

When you finally slowed, your breath came in harsh, ragged bursts, and your vision blurred with tears you hadn’t realized were there. You collapsed onto a bench, your whole body trembling violently as the weight of everything crashed down on you.

You had run away.

Again.

And this time, you didn’t even have an excuse.

a/n : phew.. 😵‍💫 if you’ve made this far, thank you for reading 💜 what do we think? i’d be very glad if you let me know your thoughts 🫶🏾 if you want, there’s an anonymous feedback box where you can drop your thoughts anonymously 💌

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being the forgetful Avenger

Avengers x reader

warnings:

a/n: it not too long i so sorry

prompt: @glitchy-bean: “Hi!!! I hope you're doing good!!! Could I request smth with a really forgetful reader + the avengers gang? More like found family than anything romantic at all with a teen reader if that's okay!!!”

“well sorry” -you, consistently “i cant remember everything”

“you can’t remember anything” -nat

“yeah, y/n, were you dropped on the head as a baby or something?” -tony

“cut it out, guys. it’s not their fault they forgot thor’s birthday. besides, hes had a couple thousand” -steve

“are you calling me old, captain?” -thor

“at least im not the only one” -steve

it wasn’t just birthdays you forgot

much much more serious than that

rendezvous points, mission details, plans of attack, perp descriptions, where you put your keys, where you put your gun

you name it you forgot it

i mean—not always, but enough for it to be the running joke

“keep your comms on, y/n. not having a disaster like last time when you couldn’t remember whether to cut the red wire or green wire” -tony

“you wish i cut the wrong one” -you

“uh, no, that’s very harsh. i moreso wished you didn’t scare us half to death by nearly digging your grave” -tony

“oh ok i forgot” -you

“who left their macaroni and cheese in the microwave?” -vision

“damn! its cold. and crusted a little. how long did i leave this in here?” -you, poking your tray with a fork “and why are you using the microwave? you dont eat”

“this is a shared space, is it not?” -vision

“he’s got you there” -steve

“you’re just ganging up on me because you’re all miserable and you want me to be miserable too. i’m going to drive one of tony’s expensive cars now, you can’t stop me” -you, storming out

you walked right back in

“what’d you forget?” -steve

“wallet, phone, keys” -you

tony noticed

“where is y/n going with my car?” -tony

“not sure, just out” -steve

“probably gonna forget their turn signal and crash into someone’s car” -tony

as far as missions went, though, you were a bit of a powerhouse so you didn’t really need to be looked after on that front…just had to make sure not to blow anyone else’s cover

“hey, what’s the codeword again?” -you

“check your wrist, kid” -nat

“oh, right…okay thanks” -you

“*gasp* was i supposed to give the signal? i just kinda went in” -you

“ok, who told y/n they could give the signal. speak up now” -tony

*clint loudly snickering over comms*

kinda forgetting what you’re talking about in the middle of sentences sometimes but like, just glitching out

“something smells like it’s burning” -you “my cookies…”

you forgot to set a timer

and forgot you were making cookies

the avengers honestly did find it endearing

just a hyper kid who cant get their thoughts in a solid line

but they’d continue making jabs at you constantly

“maybe wanda can fix your memory problems” -tony

“i will not” -wanda

“oh well nevermind then” -tony

honestly with all your forgetfulness, you worried as you dusted away if anyone would forget about you

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 // @deanzboyfriend //

[81folklore]

angeleyes - CL16

pairings: charles leclerc x famous!ex!reader (fc: amelia olivia)

summary: after posts from yn about an ex, secrets are uncovered about who he is

type: social media au (smau)

authors note: charles’ eyes🫶 one look and im GONE so this fic is perfect for him!!

voulez-vous main masterlist

twitter

youruser

liked by user5, yourfriend2 and 11,926 others

dont look too deep into those angel eyes💫

view comments

user5 😍😍😍

yourfriend2 youre glowing🤩

youruser its that post-man glow!!

user66 so you did have a man..when?!

user81 so so stunning oh my god🌟🌟

youruser • monaco

liked by yourfriend6, arthur_leclerc and 13,281 others

sometimes when im lonely, i sit and think about him☀️🌊

view comments

yourfriend6 AND IT HURTS TO REMEMBER ALL THE GOOD TIMES

youruser you get me😚

yourfriend3 not you posting him afterwards🤣

youruser going thru it rn😔

yourfriend3 esp with his brother in your likes😭 comment has been deleted

user18 what a dream!!

user62 been here a few times, its always lovely!

youruser especially this time of year!! the beaches are my favorite🩵🩵

user7 arthur?? what are you doing here??

user82 maybe he knows her? shes in monaco?

user66 wait is this the ex?? IJBOL

youruser 😆😆

twitter

youruser

liked by charles_leclerc, yourfriend3 and 25,816 others

he took my heart and now i pay the price❤️‍🩹

jokes,, always prefered mercedes😚😚

view comments

author pls pretend the car is a mercedes i was rushing🫶🫶

yourfriend3 YN STOP

youruser mercedes 🔛🔝

user70 🤣🤣

user88 WE WERE RIGHT😭

user62 charles being angeleyes as if that isnt the most beautifully sad song☹️☹️

user16 like what do you meeeeeean he’ll take your heart and you must pay the price?? and he wears a disguise??

user033 going crazy thinking about what we couldve had😔😔

charles_leclerc text me? comment has been deleted

charles_leclerc can we talk? im sorry comment has been deleted

annnnnnd we’re done for angeleyes!! ill be honest i went into this fic with zero ideas and im not thrilled about how it went but its all ive got🤷

taglist: @smartstupyd @papayaaa04

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 6.

Summary: Felix learns about what happened between you and Oliver at the club, and some jackass makes assumptions about you and Felix and your intentions towards Oliver. The interaction gets you worked up enough that you feel the need to repay Felix as when he'd defended you. With sex.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: SMUT; AFAB!reader, d/s dynamics, felix being a chatty brat, assume the reader is on birth control, unprotected sex.

A/N: 4782 words. cannot go two chapters without having a felix/reader moment it seems. bare with me i swear we get more oliver as it goes on, but he's just watching through the blinds right now and collecting information. also forgive me, not only is this unedited, it's also the first actual, explicit smut scene i've written in years, and even longer since i've been intimate with someone with a dick. i also dont read smut so this might be weird pacing wise at the end. honestly the smut is just a backdrop for character development. have at ye, and please lemme know what you think!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Summer creeps in almost insidiously, days getting longer and warmer, humidity forcing it's way into every single facet of your lives. Afternoons outside of classes are spent doing not much of anything, hoping that when night falls, the temperature will fall with it.

This afternoon is the coolest you've had in several weeks, laying on Felix's floor, listening to him play the guitar while Oliver was draped over the foot of his bed, gazing at Felix's bookshelf. There's a sweet breeze through the open window and you hum along to the tune you recognise your best friend playing, letting yourself soak in the moment.

The quiet spell breaks as Oliver moves, reaches out for something on Felix's bookshelf.

"That's cute," he muses, "baby Felix." It must be the photo of Felix and his childhood dog, the you'd only met once or twice as a kid before he'd passed, before you'd been properly friends. But Oliver puts the photo back almost as fast as he'd picked it up, "there aren't any pictures of me as a kid," he muses.

"You and Y/N have that in common," Felix says idly, surprising both you and Oliver, though for different reasons; you hadn't even realised he'd remembered that about you. Your vapid, jet-setting, philanthropist parents had always been incredibly image conscious, and a child was never part of that image. Born out of obligation to their own parents to produce a grandchild to make eventual inheritance easier, they longed to distance themselves from the very idea of you unless they desperately needed to.

And they hadn't for as long as you've been alive.

"If there were baby photos of me, that'd prove that my parents had a child," you laughed, but there was no real humour in it, "and none of us wants that."

The invisible heir.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Oliver says faintly, an unfamiliar, unreadable look in his eyes as he gazes over at you. You give a blithe shrug.

"It means I got to find a home in Felix," you say easily, the wording sappy enough to make Felix himself laugh.

"You're such a sap, that's so much nicer than what I was going to say."

"Go on then, out with it," you prompted him, despite his faint, playful protest.

"I was going to call you another ward of the Saltburn Estate," Felix grins at you, "for better or worse."

"At least you had a family who loved you," Oliver turns away again, pressing his cheek to the duvet as his gaze focused back on the photo of Felix and his dog, "even if they weren't yours." There's a distinct discomfort in the air now, a reminder of how vastly Oliver's life differs from your own.

"I was lucky in a lot of ways," is all you can think to say. Felix starts playing guitar again.

These long days turn into long nights, parties, girls and boys and everyone in between, hazy chats and drinking games and hands on you - holding you, dancing with you, brushing past, tapping with excitement, always hands on you. The quiet way Oliver goes through these strange situations may be read as awkward to everyone else, but you're no longer under any such illusions.

"You're desperate to feel needed."

There was no hesitation in his voice the other night, his hands on you, his mouth on you.

"Then need me, want me."

How easily he'd made you flustered in the club, you didn't realise he had it in him. Honestly if you hadn't experienced it yourself, you wouldn't believe it if someone else had told you. There's been a change, however, a subtle, unnoticeable one to anyone looking in from the outside. Every so often, on nights out, you'll catch him watching you with that same hungry look in his eyes, but will never act on it, however much you wish he would.

"I do, but not like this, not now."

What the fuck was he playing at? You never knew how to bring it up, even when you were alone together. But he never stopped reached out for you, he never shied away from your touch. Apart from this one thing, it was the exact same as before.

If only that one thing didn't have the potential to change everything.

"Has Ollie seemed any different to you lately?" You go to the only person you know you can trust with this. Felix frowns at his hand of cards for a long moment before looking back up at you.

"Sorry, what was the question?"

"Ollie," you go a little slower, rearranging your own hand of cards, "does he seem... I don't know, different to you?" Then, as Felix was considering, "got any fives?"

"Go fish." You should both be studying for an upcoming exam.

"What do you mean? Has anyone said anything to you?" Felix momentarily put down his cards to relight his cigarette, fixing you with an intense gaze, "did something happen?"

"Did someone say something to you?" You pivot for the moment, still looking at your cards.

"Annabel."

"Annabel?"

"About her birthday thing."

"Are you taking your turn or what?"

"Oh, right," he's still frowning, picking up his cards with his free hand, "threes?" You swear as you hand over two threes, as he quietly cheers.

"Anyways, what about Annabel's birthday thing? Does she has a problem with Ollie?" At your question, Felix ums and ahs, and avoids eye contact, "yes then?"

"No-one else in the group is a huge fan of him," he even sounds guilty admitting it out loud, "everyone else can kind of feel how out of place he is and it makes things awkward. I know we think he's lovely," Felix tried to quickly placate you, or perhaps his own conscience, "but the man's got zero chat." This does, however, make you snort.

"Ollie's got chat," you smirk down at your cards, only realising what you'd said when you're met with a shocked silence. Looking up, Felix is staring at you with utter surprise.

"Does he now?" He sounds downright scandalised. You can feel yourself growing flustered, both under Felix's delighted, intrigued gaze, and at your own memories from the club, "so something did happen?"

"Nothing happened!"

"Something definitely happened!"

"I didn't fuck him."

"Between nothing and fucking there's a whole lot of somethings that could have happened," card game completely forgotten, Felix is enraptured as you begin to briefly explain the interaction at the club -

"- and well then, he starts calling me out while aggressively making out with me," you take a deep, final breath, finally looking Felix in the eyes, "and I desperately wanted to fuck him because of it." You sigh, and give Felix plenty of time to process the story and recover.

"But you didn't?" Finally, he speaks, and you groaned, throwing your head back to look at the stars.

"No," you sulked, "he disappeared into the crowd and I had to get myself off twice before I could sleep that night. Fucking tease," but you're heart's not really mad at Oliver.

"Always fascinated to learn what turns you on," Felix is desperately trying to hold in his laughter. It's not working, "many of them baffle me."

"That's not the point here, Fi," you rolled your eyes, leaning back against the gravel roof finally, laying back. You hear the pebbles shifting, and moments later Felix joins you, hands behind his head, "I don't know how to talk about it with him," you say softly. Then, tone much lighter, "and it doesn't surprise me that Annabel thinks he has no chat, he just doesn't want to fuck her, and she can't fathom a world where anyone doesn't want her."

Felix laughs, but unfortunately isn't able to offer any real advice to you about your Oliver situation.

Oliver Quick was an anomaly in your life, you should maybe have suspected his friendship to bring on further anomalous occurrences.

"Leave Oliver Quick alone," like the voice in the library that greets you harshly whilst you're hunting down a textbook. Spinning to see who it is, you lay eyes on a blonde man in dreadfully practical clothes; he's glaring at you like you've done him some personal offense.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he says sharply, gaze as unwavering as his tone, "you vapid -" he stops himself for a moment, face turning red with anger, "pricks," he settles on, "leave Oliver Quick alone, for his sake."

"Is this a joke?"

"Oh I'm not one for jokes, especially not with the likes of you; I know how you and Mister Catton operate. Selfish," he hissed.

"Do I know you?" Its genuine confusion, and for a moment the man's expression turned annoyed, his righteous indignation turning to faint disappointment as you refused to take him and his request seriously.

"Michael," like it should mean something to you, "Michael Gavey;" still nothing, "I was in the year below you at high school for four years."

"Well, Michael," you start slowly, bordering on condescending, "Ollie's a big boy -"

"I know you; you'll get bored, you two always do," Michael cuts you off with a sneer, some of that anger from just earlier returning, "he deserves more than to be a footnote in your frivolous little lives."

"Fuck off, Mikey." You say it as a warning.

"Michael," he corrects through gritted teeth, "Felix is a slag, which makes you the sensible one, so I thought you'd actually listen -" but the realisation hits you, right as you start to see red.

"You've already tried talking to Ollie," immediately, your tone ices over, humourless, cruel little smile twisting the edges of your lips. Noticing your change in demeanour, the fight seems to drain out of Michael before your very eyes, "and he ignored you, didn't he?" You asked, already knowing the answer from the way he was trying to stammer through an answer.

"Now, Michael," you tell him with a poisonous smile, taking even, measured steps towards him, as you turn his name over on your tongue with as much malice as you can manage, "Michael Gavey, I think I do know you," you're playing with your food, drawing out his discomfort with every slow word; you weren't cruel by nature, not unless someone found which button to press, "first year," you drop your voice low as you get into his space. He starts to shrink backwards, but you're practically on his toes until you're crowding him against the bookshelf, "math genius, shouts in the dining hall -"

"I didn't- just once-"

"If you ever," there's a furious look in your eyes behind your sinister smile as you stand toe-to-toe with Michael, "and I mean fucking ever, breathe the word slag in Felix's direction, or any other insult for that matter," you wet your lips, "I promise the only job you will ever get for the rest of your life will be that of a high school English tutor," you pet his cheek condescendingly, "for students with dyscalculia."

Michael actually shudders.

"You know I can do it too, don't you?" You press, and he nods, looking both furious and ashamed where he can't look you in the eyes, "we went to high school together, Mikey, I know where you came from, I can dictate where you will go." Stepping back, you clear your throat. Nodding to him, you turn on your heel to head further into the library, to continue searching for your book.

Trying to move past it doesn't work, it still irks you, you still can't stop thinking about his weaselly little face, the bitter sneer he wore, and the cruelty with which he spoke about you and Felix. It haunts you. The audacity.

Textbook in hand, you immediately head for the patch of greenery and trees near Oliver's dorm, where you know Felix and the rest of your friends will all be spending their afternoon.

"Ooh~ Y/N coming in hot," Farleigh called, spotting the metaphorical cloud of thunder above you before anyone else.

"What are you doing now?" Ignoring everyone else, you only have eyes for Felix. He grins up at you from where he was using Farleigh's thigh as a pillow.

"I assume whatever it is you're about to ask of me," he says blithely, while the others watch the interaction with amusement.

"I need to rant," was all you said, and Felix held out his hand for you to help him up.

"You're so sexy when you're angry," he says teasingly for the whole group to hear, "has anyone ever told you that?"

"I'm not kidding," you scowl, and his grin widens.

"I know, that's the best part, I could listen to you yell for hours, I usually never get to hear it." The banter continues on the way back to your dorm. The others know it's probably a cover, though none of them, apart from Farleigh of course, know the truth. Most assume you're moments from a breakdown and would like to have your best friend there for support.

The minute you're back in your room, you slam the door shut and toss the textbook to the side. Felix asks you what's wrong, tone still light, and you can feel that protective anger flaring up in you.

Slag.

"If you don't hold me back I might start getting into scraps," you tells him with seriousness, stalking up to him with intent, planting an almost bruising kiss on his lips as you fumble with the buttons of your shirt. It's not often that you're the one getting riled up; Felix is more than enthusiastic.

"Don't fight on my behalf," he laughs, frantically pulling off his sweater. Pausing for a moment to help him with the pullover, the minute it's off and tossed to the side, you're unbuttoning his shirt with one hand as best your able, as he's trying to tug your shirt off in the chaos. The two of you are moving to the bed, and he actually gasps when the back of his legs hit, when you take a beat to raise your eyebrows at him, silently asking permission.

He's already letting himself fall back with a wicked, delighted grin as your hand finds his bare chest.

Then he's breathless, with you braced over him, gazing down at him with a furious determination that you don't usually allow yourself to build up. Felix looks up at you with pure extasy in his eyes, like you hang the stars in the sky. His hands on your ass, his grip is firm and secure, but he doesn't move; he's letting you lead.

"Felix Catton, I ruin lives for you," you practically snarl; a breathy laugh escapes him, caught up in the moment, in the mood that's been building within you, "doesn't feel like enough sometimes -"

"You're so fucking hot," he groans like he can't even help himself, can't hold himself back, can't help but close the gap to your lips, kissing you with that same intensity you're giving him.

"If I hear-" you punctuate your words with rough kisses, "another word-" biting at his lips, "against you, I'm -" fumbling with his belt, "I'm gonna start cutting people -"

"Yeah?" Felix prompts breathlessly with a sharp grin, not even waiting to get your fly all the way down before his hand is in your pants, fingers at an awkward angle in your jeans but still finding your clit. It's like you're feeling everything tenfold with the earlier outrage still burning in your veins -

Vapid pricks. The likes of you. Slag. Watching Felix's hands on the girl in the club. The venom in his voice and fury in his eyes when he'd pinned Farleigh to the wall to defend you - Our Felix; Oliver's voice like honey in your ears, tempting that jealous creature in your chest that you'd gone for years ignoring -

"My Felix," you'd purred as your hand found his cock. For a moment, his breath came out as a stutter, eyes going wide as they meets yours. He looks almost incredulous, then, after a moment, hungry, wanting. It's captivating; he's captivating, like he's desperate to devour every part of this moment and you in it, barely holding himself back.

"One more time for me?" He requests, voice low and pleased, before he changes tactics, indicating for both of you to actually take off your pants.

"Everyone's fucking wrong about you," you tell him, kicking your jeans to the side, watching for a moment as he shimmies with his jeans, looking like he's made of ninety percent limbs. Still, your intensity holds.

"Even the people that like me?" Felix laughs, finally getting himself free of the jeans. Before he can remove his boxers, however, you're on him once more, thumbs hooking into the waistband and pulling them down slowly as you speak.

"Everyone else has these versions of you in their head," you begin to plant kisses along his inner thigh as you work your way up, looking up at him through your lashes, "where you're either an angel who can do no wrong," Felix is already hard when you begin to slowly work your hand up and down the shaft of his cock, "or the absolute devil who's a scourge on the female population," your lip curls for a moment, a derisive kind of amusement at their imagined expense.

"I can't look at you right now," he half chokes out, head falling back against your duvet, "fuck," he gasps. It's enough to bring you back to the moment, and you apologise -

"No, fuck, don't stop anything; the ranting, the -" he gestures to where your movements had slowed briefly, "any of it, I just literally," he laughs a little awkwardly, almost a little self-deprecatingly, "will not last more than a minute if I look at you right now."

Oh.

Oh! This is good!

"What's so different," he prompts through shaky breathes - you can't quite believe how much he's effected by you in this moment, how enthusiastically, how desperately he responds to your dominant intensity - "about the version of me in your head?"

After a beat, you climb off of him, already reaching for your drawer.

"Everything okay?" He asks, eyes opening as he tilts his head to look at you. Pulling out a tube of lube, you focus on opening it up, rather than Felix himself. You should be using protection, you know you should be using protection, but you want to feel all of him, only him.

"I can't talk with my mouth full," you told him, still maintaining that steely intensity, "so we're skipping foreplay." Felix, immediately understanding where you were going with all this, looks back up at the ceiling with a wide smile.

"Fine by me; right now I'm inclined to say that you can do whatever you want forever, honestly - cold!" He announced with shock, jerking up a little as you glided a generous amount of lubricant over his cock. There's a faint look of betray in his eyes, but you just gave him a thin, mean smile.

"Felix, stop talking."

The commanding tone is enough to get him back on board, groaning, arching into your touch as you once again were working his shaft, now so slick your hand glided easily up and down the impressive length.

"My Felix," voice once again low, you use some of the excess lubricant on yourself. Since leaving the library, however, your anger had known it's outlet; just the idea of fucking Felix in a righteous fury had gotten you going, and you were already wet, wanting, desperate for him.

"Don't make me beg," he all but whimpered as you finally straddled his thighs, "fuck, I'll do it for you, but -"

"Shut. Up. Felix." You leaned down, chest pressed to his lips inches from his, whispering, "I won't make you beg," as you sink down onto his cock, swallowing his moan with a kiss.

"I am under no illusions about you, Felix," you begin to murmur, hips rolling at a deep, consistent rhythm, "I don't have a version of you in my head, I just have you; I just want you, as you are."

Pace picking up, you sit, rake your nails lightly down his chest, watch as he pants and groans beneath you. When he holds your hips, your thighs, you can feels his nails digging in, burying himself deep inside of you with each rhythmic thrust. There's something primal and triumphant roaring in your chest, pushing you to sink your nails into him, your teeth -

"I don't care who you fuck," you tell him through gritted teeth, picking up your pace, thighs burning.

"You're a fucking liar," tumbles from Felix's lips as he looks up at you with a smirk.

"I don't, I'd be a hypocrite -" very suddenly, Felix sits up, and you go still with him still inside of you, adjusting to the change, wrapping your legs around him.

"Then you're a hypocrite," he smirks, gaze hazy, heady, euphoric in this moment, "and a liar," and he wraps his arms around you as he kisses you, pulling you back with him as he lays back down on the bed.

"I'm not jealous," you start again, softer this time, but still aiming for stern.

"I'll say I believe you," there's mischief in Felix's eyes as his hand snakes between the two of you, fingers rubbing circles against your clit as you pick your rhythm back up again, slower this time.

"Fi," for the first time all afternoon, your voice softens, and you let your stern demeanour break, instead looking over him, glowing with sweat and endorphins, in your bed, in you, looking up at you with nothing but love in his eyes, "I don't care if nobody knows it's me, but -" you wet your lips, wicked little smile on your lips, "I want everyone else you ever fuck to be jealous of the way you let me fuck you."

Something about your words, your request, perhaps your tone, sets him off again; you rake your nails lightly down his chest again and he arches up, swearing, almost breathless.

"Yes, fuck, yes," comes out alongside a breathless moan, "my Y/N, anything you want - please."

You paint him blue and purple and the deepest, prettiest red with hickeys, leaving him looking absolutely scandalous. Of course he returns the favour in the form of scratch marks up your back and his teeth almost drawing blood from your shoulder. When he comes it's with your mouth on his neck and his cock deep inside of you, holding you close, holding you steady, whispering incoherent praise into your ear. Always diligent, he doesn't move, doesn't pull out or away from you before his focus is on you, making sure you get off, delighting in watching you unravel on top of him.

In the afterglow, amid the sharing of a cigarette and catching of your breath, you apologise softly.

"What are you apologising for?" He immediately cracks a grin, "in fact, any time you ever start to get all worked up and mean like that, have me on speed dial -"

"I - no, Fi," you sighed, amused at his suggestion, though it was fading fast, "I just... try not to be jealous," there's faint notes of guilt now that you've come down from the adrenaline and endorphins of it all. Sitting against the headboard, you draw your knees up to your chest.

"I know," Felix says easily, sitting up beside you, resting his head against your shoulder, his hand on your knee, "I try too... I don't think I'm always that great at hiding it." Then, after a moment, his tone lightens, "I think this is why I don't want to tell people about us, I don't think I could begin to explain it in a way that makes sense." It gets you to laugh, leaning into him, tension and guilt easing.

"I thought it was the rush of sneaking around and lying to people."

"There's that too," he agreed with a chuckle. The two of you fall into easy silence as he takes a drag on the cigarette and hands it over. The afternoon is sticky-hot, especially in your room, curtains still half open but window shut. As you go to open it, not caring about potential onlookers in the twilight, past the sliver of your curtain, Felix speaks up.

"There's no version of me in your head? Not even a little bit rose-coloured-glasses tinted?" He grins at you, and you lay out on the bed, looking up at him through your lashes. After a moment of simply taking the moment in, you shake your head with a soft smile.

"I told you, I'm under no illusions about you, Fi."

"I think you're too good to me for that to be true."

"I want you as you are, dude," you shrug, as if it's the easiest truth in the world.

"As I am?" He wants to be sceptical but his tone and the look in his eyes betrays him. You've never heard him quite so soft you think, eyes wide and glassy and full of conflict and love; everyone wants him, everyone loves him, everyone wants to be him or be with him, he's reckoned with his reality a long time ago, even if he wasn't entirely conscious of it. Felix's life had been picked apart by everyone around him at the surface level for as long as he could remember, perhaps he'd thought that no-one would ever care to look deeper. Perhaps he'd gotten so used to it that he'd forgotten there was anything deeper.

"I want the Felix who can't keep a girlfriend for more than two months, and who's cheated on every single one of them with me," you start, wearing a grin despite his sudden frown, "I want the Felix who hugs and kisses strangers after just meeting them because he's bursting at the seams with affection, I want the Felix who won't admit that he sleeps better with someone next to him at night, and the Felix who recaps the books he's been reading to me like they're gossip. The Felix who uses people, and breaks hearts, who says he doesn't know he's doing it but I know you do," you laugh, sitting up on your knees and letting the blankets slide down your back as Felix looks up at you now with a fond kind of reverence, "I want the Felix that lights up every room he's in without even trying, who makes everyone around him feel like they're the only person in the world, and that same Felix who still shifts over, mid conversation with someone else, for me to sit down beside him without having to even ask, because you know we'll always come back to each other," you lean down, lips inches from his, burning intensity in your gaze as you take in the reverence in his eyes, "the Fi who fights for me, the Fi who loves that I'd ruin lives for him, my Felix -" You see the moment he can no longer hold himself back, arcing forward, moving from the headboard to be by you, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. For a long moment it's your mouth fitting perfectly against his, faint, desperate groan being pulled from the back of his throat as he takes your face in his hands, firm, warm, wanting, deepening the kiss.

"Some of those things were pretty shit," he laughed a little self consciously after the kiss breaks, both of you breathing heavy. In his eyes you can see the barest hint of conflict.

"People have said worse."

"And you got them expelled," he reminded with a faint smile, but again there's that conflict, "and they aren't you."

"You're my best mate," you laugh easily, "that shit, the good and the less good, makes you my Felix. Be pretty shit of me to want to chop and change who you are, you know?"

For a very long moment, you watch the way he slowly begins to smile, to take all your saying in drinking in this sun-drenched moment. Reaching out, he carefully touches your cheek.

"Say it again then," he prompts, sounding almost giddy, feather-light touches as if mapping your delicate features in this moment. For a brief second you're confused, barely angling your head to indicate as such before you can see his faint blush beneath his golden skin, creeping up his cheeks. When he laughs, almost self conscious, you realise, and grin back.

"You're a sap."

"Don't make me beg."

"My Felix."

[chososdiscordkitten]

Obsessive!Choso♡ pt3

pt 2 here content: Choso refers to reader as his gf- other than that no use of pronouns. mention of reader wearing lipstick, obsessive crush to stalker arc :>

(a.n) this is slowly becoming a fic and I don't hate it. I felt lack of inspo last night and did a deep dive into what stalkers do- the red flags before they start the actual stalking lol

taglist: @flam3bird

Obsessive!Choso who almost felt his heart burst when he saw you wave hi at him when you walked into class. Smile on your lips as you walk down to your seat. Hearing your friend speak a little louder than a whisper while taking a practice test, seeing you look back at him and make a face almost asking him, ‘can you believe what she's saying?’ before turning around again, watching your friend lean in close to you and keep pestering you. His eyes watching you turn your phone on under your desk, ‘During a test? What are you thinking-’ he thought, mentally scolding you.

Obsessive!Choso who almost died when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, pulling it out and seeing that you had texted him. ‘can u hear her from all the way over there ?’ reading it and hearing your voice. The realization of, ‘you were thinking of me?’ making him slouch in his seat, feeling his heavily pieced ears start to warm. Staring at your text, looking down at you, noticing you had the conversation still open. ‘Are you waiting for me?’ he asked you in his mind. Quickly screenshotting the notification before opening it, ‘yeah, i can.’ he typed, sending it and seeing you turn your head and smile at him. Seeing you look down at your phone, his heart beating quickly when he saw the typing bubble show up. ‘she keeps asking me what the answers are’, smiling when he saw that your auto capitalization was off, another thing you two had in common. ‘is this not a practice test?’ he typed, thinking how crazy it is that he was talking to you. To you! Person of his dreams, everything he wanted in a partner. You. The person who always greets him with a warm smile, who's always nice to him.

Obsessive!Choso whose heart skipped a beat when he saw you move your shoulders, indicating that you were trying not to laugh. ‘I make you laugh?’ looking down at his phone and seeing you had texted again. ‘dont think she knows that’  you replied, putting your phone away and getting back to the paper in front of you. Making sure to remember to ask you why you're friends with someone like that. ‘You're not the same kind of person- or even on the same level mentally. So why would you be friends with someone who does nothing but bother you?’  Thinking he knew everything about your friendship with this person. 

Obsessive!Choso who went to the campus coffee shop, in hopes that maybe you'd be there. Knowing from your instagram stories that you usually came to pick up a coffee after one of your classes. Only this time you weren't here. Pulling out his trifold wallet before paying, looking to see he didn't have any cash, trying to find his card. “Pretty girlfriend.” the cashier said, breaking the awkward silence while looking at the photo of you in his wallet. “Sorry?” he asked, looking at them when he found the piece of plastic. “Your girlfriend-” they continued, eyes pointing at the picture. The sentence made him flustered, not paying attention that some people notice small things like that. Smile on his face as he mumbled a quiet ‘I know.’ before tapping his card onto the screen. 

Obsessive!Choso kept those few words in his mind whenever he caught a glimpse of his wallpaper. ‘My girlfriend.’ he'd think, smile on his lips when he would refer to you as that.

Obsessive!Choso saw a picture of your laptop and a notebook next to it in your story. Knowing you were home, knowing that you were waiting for him to text you, you had to be right? Opening the google doc on his computer, seeing that you were on it as well. A few minutes of him watching your cursor type a sentence and delete it. Before seeing a message from the upper right corner of his screen. A message from you, ‘Hey, I know it's late. But I hit a wall with this stupid project- could I call you?’ he read, eyes widening at how right he was. Clearing his throat at how forward you were being. Call? As in on the phone with you? 

Obsessive!Choso who almost choked when he heard your voice on the phone. Pressing the phone closely to his ear, closing his eyes with a smile when he heard you say- “Heyyyy”, not being able to find the words to say to you. A small ‘hi’ leaving his throat. Hearing you let out a small giggle before hearing you place your phone down. “So i'm on the doc- and I saw you were on it too-” you started, Choso pictured you. Sitting in front of your laptop, smile on your face while speaking. He could tell by just your voice that you were smiling, smiling while talking to him.

Obsessive!Choso who desperately wanted to record the conversation- well, more like record your voice. He wasn't the one speaking a whole lot. You had gotten used to filling the silences he left in the air, being able to tell that he wasn't much of a talker. But little did you know that he was thinking longer replies, but only thinking them. Smiling when he’d hear you ask a question. You started reading aloud what you had written- making sure it sounded right. Choso accidentally let out a low ‘Mhm’ while hearing you read, closing his eyes in regret when he heard you stop. “You sound so different on the phone-” you started, almost a whisper. He exhaled quietly in relief when he heard your fingers start to press onto the keys of your computer. The call didn't last longer than 20 minutes, you just wanted to ask him his opinion on if what you had so far sounded smart or not. But in his mind, the only real reason you called was to speak to him- to hear him. 

Obsessive!Choso who felt like he could die when you told him ‘thank you’ for his help. But when you mumbled a tired, “Goodnight Choso-” before you hung up, made his cheeks flush and his heart pound in his chest. The first time you had ever said his name. Immediate regret filling his gut when he remembered he didn't record it. But he would always remember it, always keep it close to his heart in memory. 

Obsessive!Choso was walking to the campus coffee shop after class. Seeing you speaking to some guy- probably one of the so called friends you choose to surround yourself with. Slowing his pace when he saw you slowly backing away from him- and nodding no at him. Seeing this guy, reach for your arm, speaking over you as he stepped closer. Even from a distance he could see your face look uncomfortable. At that moment, Choso didn't know what came over him. He walked over- more like storming over. His face full of anger, slapping a sweet smile onto it when he saw you look over at him. “I was just about to go find you.” Making sure to keep a sweet tinge in his tone when he spoke to you. Smile of relief on your face when you saw him. Dark eyeshadow and combat boots almost making you feel safe. A quiet ‘hey’ trailed from your lips, feeling the stranger's hand fall from your arm, taking a step back. “Me too, I wanted to bring up-” you started. Rambling about what the professor had taught today, noticing the guy back off before walking away. Seeing you exhale before looking at his face. “Thank you.” you whispered, looking down at your shoes. “A friend?” he asked, his tone deeper than before. Using the same tone he spoke to you while on the phone. “Absolutely not-” you smiled, looking back up at him. “Just some guy from my public speaking class. He's been bothering me since the first day.” You laughed, seeing him crack a small smile, his hands fidgeting with his rings. “Are you busy? I was just about to go grab a coffee-” you started, looking away from him in the direction of the same coffee shop he was going to.

Obsessive!Choso who thought; ‘Aren't you forward. Trying to spend more time with me?’ as he nodded no, “I'm not.” he replied, his hands in his pockets.

Obsessive!Choso who was convinced you were starting to feel the same way he did, even if it was only a week since they paired you together. I mean, who would ask someone if they wanted to have coffee with you? “Sorry if you had plans- or whatever.” you started, walking slowly next to him. “I didn't.” he mumbled, hearing his boots drag onto the concrete. “The least I could do is buy you a coffee!” you exclaimed, ‘No need to thank me- who else but me will protect you from all the horrible men in the world?’ Choso thought, looking over to see you, remembering all the people who have been broken by men who didn't love them. Knowing that you would never have to worry about those silly things with him. 

Obsessive!Choso who purposefully switched the two coffees you had paid for- in hopes he'd be able to share an indirect kiss with you. Knowing if he tried to pay, you'd see the picture of yourself he had in his wallet. Sitting down at one of the round tables, heavily ringed hands around the cup as he looked at you pick up his coffee. Making a face when the sour taste hits your tongue. “I think they switched our cups-” You smiled, pushing his cup towards him. Seeing him mutter a feigned ‘Oh’ as he gave you the correct cup. His eyes focused on the light print of lipstick you had left on the black lid. “I could get you a new one- I know some people are huge germaphobes.” You smiled, taking a sip from your cup to wash the bitter taste from your mouth. “There are worse things in the world than sharing a drink with someone.” He murmured, slouching in his seat, seeing you give him a sweet smile in return.

Obsessive!Choso who took one sip of his coffee, only to assure you that it was okay that you had drank from it. Who felt his knee start to bounce with anticipation when he felt the satiny feeling of your lipstick on his bottom lip. Hearing words falling from your mouth, but not listening to them. Thoughts of how technically that was your first kiss with him. Seeing your phone light up on the table, hearing you sigh loudly. And it continued to light up- repeatedly. “Jesus- this girl doesn’t know how to take a hint.” You exhaled, picking up your phone and typing something. ‘Must be the girl from class.’ he thought.

Obsessive!Choso whose lips moved before his brain could process what he was saying. “The girl from class?” he asked, seeing you look up at him and smile. “Yeah- she keeps trying to come over to my house for a sleepover.” You placed your phone down, “That girl is the epitome of peaked in highschool.” You mumbled, Choso finally found an opportunity to ask you. “Why are you friends with her?” he questioned, seeing you inhale at his words. “I chose this college to get away from all the bullies and all the pretentious people who would live the same boring suburban lives.” You started, “And to become myself- to find myself.” You mumbled, looking away from him. “Imagine my disappointment when I got here and it was full of superficial delta chi’s-” You laughed, seeing him return a smile to you. Humming in response to your words. “I was never good with confrontation- The idea makes me anxious and uneasy.” seeing him look at you with his head in his hand. Eyes half lidded while listening to you. His pointer finger tracing doodles onto the table. Liking the way you opened up to him, letting him get to know you. Being able to hear your unfiltered thoughts, not the bullshit you over thought before you posted on your story. 

Obsessive!Choso who paid close attention to what you were saying, hanging onto every word that fell from your lips. Feeling yourself cringe at how you just aired out your business to someone who was practically a stranger, not knowing why it was so easy to speak to him. Somehow never sensing any judgment or lack of interest in what you said. Feeling a wave of relief whenever you were able to speak to him- a real person who didn't care about people's opinions. “Honestly I don't know why I'm still friends with her- I've tried to sit in other seats, hoping she wouldn't sit next to me in that class anymore.” You spoke, finally answering his question. ‘I know. I watched you every time you moved seats.’ Choso replied to your words mentally. “I think the reason I'm failing that class- is that I can't focus on what is being taught because she's in my ear the entire time.” You smiled, easing up on the heavy topic. ‘Aha. I knew you were failing- just like me.’

Obsessive!Choso wanted to suggest that you to sit next to him, knowing your childish friend won't follow you if you did. “Failing?” he asked, eyes scanning your features. “Yeah, I was hoping this-” You sighed, “stupid project would help my grade at least a little.” Closing your eyes and leaning back into your chair. ‘Ask me. Ask me and I'm yours. Ask me to help you.’ he thought, fighting off his excitement when you looked at him. Lightbulb practically popped up above your head, “You're doing good in class, aren't you?”  you asked, smile on your lips as he nodded yes without thinking. “I know that we were only paired for this assignment- but would you be ok with helping me study?” You smiled, eyes so bright he swore he could see the universe in them. “Of course.” He smiled, seeing you exhale and look down at the table with a smile.

Obsessive!Choso who almost let out a small giggle when he saw your face flush. ‘Are you- blushing?’ he asked himself. The question you asked him didn't make him nervous. He understood most of what was being taught, but he didn't have the energy to physically write the essays, and besides- Choso preferred spending his free time thinking of you. Not of the stupid course work that he didn't need for real life. Trying to get to know you better through your social media. Dissecting every single photo you posted. Zooming into the background of your bedroom, seeing if he could find anything worth researching. A band poster, a shirt on the floor, a stranded bottle of nail polish he could buy so he would match with you- anything that would let him see you. The real you- not the person that you pretended to be with the fake friends you had. The person he saw a flicker of that day at the cafe. The person you came to this college to become.

-

pt 4 here

(PLS LET ME KNOW IF U WANNA BE TAGGED IN THE NEXT PART PLSSSS) omg thank god I posted this. I am alr writing pt 4 I don't CARE. this is my new passion, wrote this while listening to 'Such Small Hands- La Dispute' Choso thinks this is all fun and games, what happens when he sees I am crazier than he is ?

[pickingupmymercedes]

"dont ask me that" from yours and "i dont even know if any of that was real" from my own. one where lewis overheard a conversation between reader n her brother/family after his breakup with her. in which the breakup broke and changed her so much shes become a different person who just doesnt believe shes worthy for love anymore. and it hurts her so much that she cant even believe that any of her happy moments with lewis was real, maybe it was just a game for him. angst and pleasee sfw

Asshole Lewis incoming. He does try to make things a bit better in the end though.

Also, this is only the second time I write from his perspective, and it's hard ngl.

"dont ask me that" and "i dont even know if any of that was real"

The cacophony of the paddock was a familiar background noise as Lewis weaved through the throng of team personnel and sponsors; a practiced smile plastered on his face. Yet, the usual thrill of pre-race anticipation was muted. All he craved was solitude, anywhere he could escape the prying eyes of the media.

He ducked into a secluded corner; a sliver of shade offered by a towering hospitality suite. Quietness for a few seconds, only to be instantly replaced by a gut-punch of surprise. Y/n. She was just on the other side of the wall of tires, face illuminated by the glow of her phone, a serious expression etched on her features.

He should've known retreating wouldn't guarantee escape. And the sight of her, so unexpected, made him suddenly regret his decision and long for the fans and media.

But he couldn't help eavesdropping. It wasn't intentional, not at first. Her voice was laced with a vulnerability he had only witnessed once before. The other voice on the conversation was her brother, he gathered, and his tone was laced with concern.

“You sound exhausted, Y/n,” the man's voice cutting deep into the silence. “Seriously, you need to take a break. The team won’t crumble without you”

Y/n sighed, the sound so different from the girl he remembered. “I’m fine, busy season. That’s all.”

“Is it just the work, or…” He trailed off, the question hanging heavy.

“Don't ask me that,” Y/n cut him off, her voice cracking slightly, and Lewis winced. That wasn't the Y/n he knew. The bubbly, optimistic girl who'd lit up a room with her smile.

Lewis felt a pang of guilt. He knew exactly who she was trying to avoid mentioning. The one who'd left without a real goodbye, the one who'd taken a piece of her with him.

“You know I can't help you if you don't talk about it,” her brother continued gently.

“There’s nothing to talk about” Y/n said, a hint of defiance creeping in. “It’s over. And honestly, maybe I’m glad it is. I don't even know if any of that was real for him.” The anger in her voice barely masked the underlying hurt.

The air grew thick, suffocating. His blood turned to ice. The weight of his actions, the cowardly way he'd ended things before they could get too serious, slammed into him. He'd been the one afraid. Afraid to let himself care, afraid to risk another heartbreak. He'd ended things abruptly, afraid of getting too attached, afraid of the very thing Y/n was now questioning – how real their connection had been.

“Focus on your career, then,” her brother said. “It’s the one thing that won't let you down.”

“Yeah,” Y/n agreed, her voice distant. “At least I can trust that.”

A few days later, a bouquet of lilies arrived at Y/n's desk. Nestled amidst the pristine white blooms was a small card. The note was short, filled with a remorse he couldn't express in words:

"Y/n,

Those moments were real, to me. I never meant to led you on but I was too afraid to admit I was letting myself get too close. I hope you find someone who’s unapologetic about his feelings. You deserve the world.

Lewis."

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf @priopp123 @jajouska

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.