#i have been genuinely thinking about doing something for

[wbellab]

Busy Woman | J. Bucky Barnes

summary: You’ve always had a soft spot for Bucky Barnes. Shamelessly flirted just to see that annoyed look that made him look so good. He never gave you more than those quiet stares, jaw tight like he was holding something back. Fine by you. You had better things to do than wait around for a man stuck in the 40s. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

pairing: tfatws!bucky x fem!reader

cw: angst (i love writing that lol), post endgame, mentally unstable reader, grumpy bucky, flirting, cocky reader, reader has no filter, sexual jokes, implied canon deaths, implied canon violence, several times

3k words

inspo: busy woman by sabrina carpenter

It started of with occasional flirting. You’ve been told that James—Bucky as people called him—Barnes was an ex assassin, a super soldier with a body count larger than you would’ve suspected, a guy that had the power to literally crush you if you annoyed him too much. But you didn’t care.

You’ve always been too bold and shameless for your own being. Life is too short to worry about details as insignificant as his body count (his death toll—you didn’t care about his past experience with women, or men ?—the more the better…).

This being said, you did not ignore who he was. You obviously acknowledge what he had done before. But hey, you could still appreciate beauty for what it was. Because James Buchanan Barnes was truly a sight for sore eyes. You didn’t know where all this playful flirting started getting more real.

"You look good in black." You mentioned one day gesturing to his gear. You both were paired in a small check up mission, much to your delight and Bucky’s annoyance.

"I always wear black clothes." He huffed.

"Yeah, my point." You smiled.

Men look hot in black, that’s a universal law, so you didn’t think much when you gave that comment. You’ve always been like that, subtly flirting with anyone, giving genuine compliments, sometimes out of the blue. It came naturally, especially with Bucky. What you truly did not expect was seeing his face flushing. It was subtle, but your eyes noticed. And that’s how your one sided flirting with him truly began.

"Something’s off." Bucky muttered, looking at the tracking device in his hands.

"Probably my clothes." It took him a moment to grasp it. But when he did his eyes just widened, and he sighed, used to it already. "You have no sense of humour whatsoever it is alarming." You continued after observing his reaction.

"No because that is straight off the worst pick up line you could come up with. Is this what you call flirting ?"

"You’re so confident that Im flirting with you. That is also alarming."

You were in fact flirting with him, though subtly. But you still kept the upper hand, folding your arms across your chest in a way that was almost childish.

He matched your gesture, folding his arms against his chest, a playful smirk on his face. "Well I hope you’re not because rejecting you now would probably mess with our assignment discharge." It was subtle too. But it was his way of rejecting you, kind of. You didn’t flinch. You wouldn’t take it seriously until he said the words straight to your face.

"Oh…" you pouted, mock-hurt. "I didn’t want your old cranky ass anyway." The lie rolled off your tongue effortlessly. It wasn’t awkward—your smile stayed sharp, teasing, and his matched it. He probably thought you were joking. Maybe you were. "But hey although i’m busy, clothes are always optional if you ever need a favor."

He groaned. Yep, you absolutely loved teasing him.

Something resonated through him one day. It was right after Thanos erased half of the world population. To him the blip felt like just a second but to you, you aged five years. You were apart of the Time Heist mission. You saw your sister sacrifice herself, to save you and the world. And you felt awfully guilty.

Things had drastically changed, when people reappeared. Bucky found himself in a world that was once again moving on while he was freezing with time. But still he got pardoned for his former actions, he started seeing a therapist and right when he thought he would be able to get his life together, Steve left. But you, you were the same old person. Talking to him as if nothing changed, as if you didn’t age five years older while he still looked the same.

You were in his apartment on a random evening—the very same night he returned from a "date" with the girl from the sushi place. Not that he knew you’d stalked him. When Bucky noticed his door was unlocked, a sinking feeling settled in his chest. He was sure he’d locked it. The key turned too easily. Then he saw you. A sigh left his lips, probably exasperation or relief. Maybe a bit of both. Still he didn’t have the energy to make you leave at that moment. Great mistake.

"I mean a win is a win, it shrunk our age gap with five years." You shrugged to him when the subject of the blip came into the conversation. It was more you talking and him huffing and listening. Barely listening. "You know I missed you. It was kind of boring without you."

"I bet it was." He huffed. "Look why don’t you just–" he gestured to your figure laying on his couch a bag of crisps, that you stole from his pantry, in your hands. "Stop putting crumbs all around the apartment and just get out now."

"Woah, I see you’re still rude." You mumbled. "I just missed you during those five years you know ? And since all of my friends are either gone or dead I just feel… super, super lonely." You sighed, dramatically. Although it sounded like a joke, you meant everything you said.

Your life truly fell apart when half of the population disappeared, it was already crumbling before but now, it was much more worse. Things were different. If it wasn’t for Nat being with you before, you would’ve probably not made it past your twenties. But now that she died, sacrificing herself, you just felt like you were dying all over again.

"Don’t you feel lonely ?" You asked cutting the silence. He turned to you, a bit surprised by what you asked him. You were staring straight ahead without blinking and that’s when he noticed the flask in your hand.

"You’ve got to be kidding me…" He muttered under his breath, taking the flask away from you. "Have you seriously brought alcohol here ?"

"I told you I felt lonely." You tried to defend yourself, as if it was enough to justify your need to drink alcohol. "But you did not answer me."

He sighed slumping in the couch next to you. He stared at the bottle that he stole from you just seconds ago, and he brought it to his mouth before wincing.

"This thing is disgusting."

"Its just some cheap vodka. I don’t have money." You answered sadly, your eyes not leaving the point you were fixing on the ceiling. You were absolutely wasted, after just one sip. To be fair it was your first time drinking, your system was definitely not used to it, even with all the serum injected in your veins.

"Once you’re sober, you’re getting out of here."

"Why do you badly want me to go mmh ?" You asked turning your head towards him, a frown on your face. You were not about to cry. Yes definitely not in front of him. "I would’ve rather gone to Sam." You say bluntly, the alcohol loosening your thoughts. "But he’s visiting his family and I thought you would maybe appreciate some company."

"Well I clearly don’t so you have your answer now." He said more firmly. "I don’t want your company."

"You don’t want me ?" You pouted, although your face showed a hint of amusement. Your fingers lightly grazed his flesh arm, and Bucky flinched at the contact—until he noticed your gaze shift toward the flask in his left hand. With a reluctant sigh, he offered it to you. But you did not take it. Instead you reached for his metal wrist,guiding him until the rim of the flask touched your lips, forcing him to pour de drink in your mouth. He was too stunned to resist, his eyes widening as he let you. "What ?" You hiccuped, probably from the drinking. "It’s technically you making me drunk now so it gives me a reason to stay longer." You giggled. You genuinely though at that moment that it was the smartest thing you’ve ever done. And that’s something to say because you were an ex spy.

"Fine." He said standing up and pouring the rest of the alcohol in the sink. You quickly got up, trying to follow him. Your walk was wobbly.

"Do you even know how much this cost me ?" You rolled your eyes, trying your hardest to not completely crumble on the ground.

"Have you seen yourself right now ?"

"Do you care for me ?"

"Not even close."

"Okay fine if you don’t want me…" You feigned walking towards the door but before you reached the handle you turned toward him. "I’ll just deem you gay." You giggled so hard you lost your balance.

The sexual undertones were not unnoticed by Bucky and he simply decided to blame the alcohol for your behaviour– although you always acted this way, sober or not. He was empathetic enough to help you off the ground and lead you back to the couch. You arms were around his shoulders as he grabbed you from your waist. When he tried to pull away, you were still gripping him hard.

"I am so lonely James." you murmured, your voice barely audible against his chest. You felt the rapid thrum of his heart beneath your cheek. He must have great stamina, you thought unaware it was racing for an entirely different reason.

"I know me too." He admitted too. Knowing that you wouldn’t remember it the next day.

He left you sleeping on his couch, you were definitely not going back to your house in this state and he should do with it.

Bucky woke up the next morning to an unexpected sound: silence. No burning kitchen, no flooded bathroom. Everything was exactly as he’d left it. For a moment, he wondered if he’d imagined you being there at all—some kind of strange dream brought on by exhaustion and memory.

But then he saw the neatly folded plaid blanket on the couch. You’d been there. You just left before he woke up. No note, no text—just gone. And it was barely 7 a.m.

It’s fine, he told himself. Nothing happened. I asked her to leave.

Still, a faint, unwelcome flicker of disappointment crept in. You could’ve at least thanked him, right?

He did not have time to dwell on it anyway. He had a more important business to attend to.

…

Sam was glaring at Bucky from across the jet. The hum of the engines was the only sound between them, heavy silence stretching thin like thread ready to snap. After deciding to confront Sam about the shield this morning, Bucky found him heading to Munich for an operation and he decided to tag along. That is pretty much how they found themselves in this situation.

"So…who are we fighting ?" Your voice cut through the quinjet, and you appeared from the steering cabin. You wore a headset and a black gear, the one you usually wore when you went on missions.

Bucky’s head snapped toward you, his expression tightening the second his eyes landed on your face. He grumbled something under his breath—he was definitely cursing you. The corner of your mouth tugged upward despite yourself. You always did have that effect on him.

"Did you plan this ?" His question was raised towards Sam.

"Why would I plan this ? You were the one who forced yourself into this plane" Sam retorted, he then turned to you a bit surprised. "What are you doing here ?"

"I happen to be training to become a pilot here and well it also happens to be the exact plane you guys are in so…" you lingered a bit. "I guess we’re working together." You flashed a wide smile.

"We’re absolutely not." Bucky said.

"I did not ask." You shrugged going to sit right next to Sam, which gave you a great sight of Bucky in front of you. This man looks so good when he’s annoyed. "I think Sam would rather work with me than with your little bitch ass anyway."

"Couldn’t have said it better." Sam muttered, and you extended your hand high-fiving him.

"Do you have something with my ass ? ‘Cause you’ve been talking a lot about it lately ."

"Wouldn’t you want to know." You winked at him. You hunched forward, elbows on your knees and hands supporting your face. Without breaking the eye contact. You stayed like this for a full minute.

Bucky felt… off. Unsettled. You were talking to him like nothing had happened—as if just the night before, you hadn’t shown up at his apartment, drunk and messy and vulnerable. As if you hadn’t buried your face in his chest and confessed that you were lonely. As if you hadn’t fallen asleep right there against him.

And now? You were smirking, teasing him like it meant nothing. Like he meant nothing.

Maybe you didn’t remember. Maybe it had been one of those hazy, half-lost nights for you. Or maybe—maybe that kind of moment was just something you could toss aside without blinking.

But for Bucky, it lingered. It was etched into the quiet corners of his mind.

And now you were laughing at him. Flirting like the night hadn’t happened.

He clenched his jaw and broke the eye contact, not trusting himself to speak. Because the truth—the one he hadn’t said out loud—was that it hadn’t been nothing for him.

"Haha you lost !" You cheered, turning to Sam. "See that, I just fixed his staring problem."

Sam caught the brief exchange and couldn’t help the amused grin that spread across his face. This mission wouldn’t be that bad now with you joining them.

"I don’t think you fixed anything. You just made freeky magoo over there very flustered."

Bucky rolled his eyes in exasperation.

Before he could answer anything, Torres appeared from the cockpit.

"One minute till drop off, Sam."

"Y’all did not answer me." You huffed standing up and grabbing an earpiece of you own.

"Flag smashers." Sam briefly answered. "You probably heard of them."

"Thirty seconds !" You heard Torres yell.

"Enjoy your ride Buck." Sam

"Oh no you can’t call me that."

"Why not ? That’s what Steve called you."

"Steve knew me longer and Steve had a plan."

"I have a plan." Sam turned to you. "You coming ?"

"Yep." You got up and Sam extended his hand for you to take. The plane was extremely low so you couldn’t use a chute.

"Fifteen seconds."

Sam gripped your waist.

"Oh yeah, what’s your plan ? Her ?" Bucky called, but Sam ignored him and jumped out of the plane with you in his arms.

"How’s he coming down ?" You asked Sam once you both were in the air flying towards the the outbuilding where your targets were located.

"He’ll manage."

"I had all of that on camera you know that." Sam said from beside you. You were watching Bucky from Redwing’s camera. He was lying on the ground where he fell a few seconds earlier from the plane.

"The whining looks good on you Barnes."

"Get out of my face or you’ll experience what real whining sounds like."

"Kinky." You muttered

"That’s a fucking threat."

The mission had gone sideways—again.

Smoke still lingered in the air, the convoy you were meant to intercept now far gone in the horizon. The intel had been wrong. Again. Too many hostiles, too many surprises, and no backup. Well except for Captain American wannabe and his acolyte.

And somewhere in the brutal fight, Bucky had done what he thought was best.

He had tossed you out of the moving truck.

Literally.

You were still brushing gravel off your jacket as you stormed down the dirt path beside him, your hair wild, your boots stomping with each step. You were limping, pretty sure you had twisted your ankle.

"You threw me off of a fucking truck, Barnes!"

"I saved your life." Bucky snapped, not even looking at you.

Sam trailed just a few steps behind, looking like he was trying not to laugh. Or interfere. Or get involved in the very obvious mess brewing between you two.

You turned on Bucky, not even acknowledging your hobbling stride, walking backward just to glare at him properly. "You couldn’t have just said ‘jump’? But no? You had to manhandle me and yeet me into a ditch like a rag doll?"

"You weren’t listening!" Bucky growled. "You were about to get blown up, and I didn’t have time to argue!"

"So your solution was throwing me out of a moving vehicle?!"

"You’re fine, aren’t you?" he snapped back, finally meeting your glare. "Little bruised ego, that’s all."

Sam finally sighed, raising his hands. "Alright, alright. Can we not kill each other while we’re in the middle of nowhere? I don’t feel like dying because you two decided now was the time to have a full-blown breakup fight—without even dating."

You both turned to glare at him in perfect unison.

Sam just shrugged. "I’m just saying what we’re all thinking."

"She shouldn’t have come." He deadpanned, he wasn’t even addressing to you and this made your blood boil.

Your eyes narrowed dangerously. "You don’t get to decide what I can handle. I’m not some helpless bitch."

"Oh really ?" He let out a dry laugh. "Could’ve fooled me." he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

When Bucky stared at your eyes, there was no longer that usual warmth that you always had when you talked to him. Gone was the usual glint of mischief, that effortless warmth you always carried when you tossed a smirk his way or teased him like he didn’t terrify most people. Your gaze now was colder—steeled, unreadable. You weren’t joking anymore.

"Nothing," Bucky gritted out, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "I’m just done cleaning up after someone who treats everything like a joke and never thinks about anyone but herself."

The words hung in the air like a slap. You froze mid-step.

He wasn’t just talking about the mission anymore. You knew it.

You stared at him, stunned for a second, before your voice dropped, sharp and cold. “Say what you really want to say, Barnes. Stop dancing around it.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at you.

That silence? It cut deeper than his words.

You shook your head with a bitter smile. “Right. That’s what I thought.” You turned and kept walking.

And maybe for the first time, he realized you were genuinely hurt.

part 2 (coming soon…)

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for sooo long. There will be a part 2 I just need to edit it, although i’m highly contemplating turning this into a fanfic

[beatopia444]

red velvet hair | criminal minds

summary: in which the bau is never fully prepared for the disturbing stories of one of their assistant agents who never fails to leave them absolutely speechless.

pairing: criminal minds x catvalentine!reader

word count: 1.5k

warning: this is so stupid. mentions of blood and mental illness because cat valentine. ♥︎ this is truly the stupidest thing i have ever written and willingly posted. im sorry in advance to whoever has the misfortune of coming across this.

masterlist

author's note: this is honestly for doodoos and giggles. i just like the idea of having a ditzy reader like cat valentines absolutely traumatize the already traumatize. also, i know i should be posting about my hot!diva!reader but a girl can get distracted :( also i just love victorious and i might do her helping out spencer with his addiction because cat was addicted to bibble.

The BAU wasn't really sure how you got hired as a apart of the behavioral analysis unit since they were not sure how you passed the psychological evaluation or written tests. You were what the FBI considered a special exception, just like Spencer Reid since you were extrodinary in passing the phsyical tests and using unique ways to solve problems. You also were very charming towards your instructors and Strauss. It weren't even the little things that led them to question how your mind worked, it was the things you'd say and do outright that you considered to be normal; today was one of those days that Hotch made another mental note to get you drug tested later on.

You and Penelope gathered around Spencer's desk to see the photo that Penelope had printed out. You leaned on Spencer's chair while Penelope leaned on top of the desk as you all stared in shock.

"It's remarkable. Something like this makes you questioned everything you thought you knew." Spencer stated, shaking his head at Emily's photo as you nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, it's like the monolith in 2001." The computer tech commented, a teasing tone in her voice as she eyed Emily who sat not too far away.

"So there was actually a time when something like this was socially acceptable?"

Penelope sighed at Spencer's inquiry, "You and [Name] are young. 80s left a lot of people confused. This is a... especially sad."

"Alright. Very funny guys. Very funny." Emily finally spoke out in a dry tone, snatching the paper out of Penelope's hand. "What'd you do to it?"

"Do?" Garcia hid a laugh.

"You obviously altered it in photoshop or something — that hair." Emily scoffed, as she showed the photo towards them, not believing it was ever her.

"Oh— no pussycat, that is— that's all you. Garfield High, class of '89."

Emily peered down back at the photo, a new frown appearing in her face, "You really didn't change anything?"

"I hacked it as is. You're really trying to tell me you don't remember rocking that look."

"Perhaps your lack of recognition stems from a dissociative fugue suffered from an adolescence. Say it a Siouxsie and the Banshees concert." Spencer joked which caused penelope to giggle but you were very confused.

"Who?"

"You don't know Sioxsie and the — nevermind" Emily cut herself off, sighing. It was already terrible that she graduated in the 80s and she did not need to be reminded of her age yet again.

"Well whoever they are, they must be pretty cool. I think you looked really cool in your yearbook photo, Emily." you said with such sincere and genuiness that the receiver of the compliment's heart warm.

"You think I looked cool?"

"Yeah! We could've maybe had been friends had we gone to school together. But, what happened to the coolness now?" you tilted your head. You asked the question without any hint of malicious intent, and full of genuine curiosity. You like when people dressed goth or alternative. You never were one for status quos and your entire high school was filled with people of that nature.

Spencer and Penelope stifled a laugh as Emily stared out into space, questioning where her life went wrong to have such a backhanded compliment by a girl who used to skip the number three when counting. They learned that habit was fixed during your FBI academy days.

"What are we talking about?" Morgan had joined the group, a cup of coffee in his hand. "Woah! Prentiss, that's you? Oh my that is, something!"

"What is going on?" Rossi followed behind Morgan, the same suprise is evident on his face. "Oh! That is a... lovely photo."

"You know what, what did you guys look like in high school because I am positive we all went through a phase." Emily asked, defensiveness clear in her tone.

"Well fear not because I had time this morning for another hacking of a fellow agent, Miss [Surname], and let's just say that I have never felt more jealous of a life lived than yours my dear."

"Oooo I haven't seen this picture in a while!" you squealed, excited to see how you were at one of the happiest times in your life. Penelope brought out the photo and everybody gathered around, curious as to what era of you they would see.

They always knew that you were a sort of special type of person but they had only met you in this era of your life. The you they know and love is somebody who is undeniably herself and a sweetheart who gives everybody her love unconditionally.

They never would've expected for Penelope to pull up a photo of an alternative fairy-like girl. You looked into the camera with the smile of a model in the perfect position that caught you from all the good angles. Your head perfectly tilted just a teensy bit down, your smile not quite reaching your eyes but offering a sense of lightheartedness and mischief, and your eyes captured this sort of fun youthfulness. You also wore a hot pink off the shoulder shirt with cybersigilism prints and many metal necklaces. But what caught the other agent's eyes the most was your red hair.

"Did you get your photo professionally taken?" Spencer inquired, his mouth still slightly agape.

"You barely aged! What year did you graduate?" Rossi asked, although he wasn't quite sure he wanted to hear the answer at his old age.

"Hollywood Arts, class of 2002." It had been six years since then but still at 24 years old, you barely changed in terms of style from your high school self.

"You went to an arts school?" Emily asked and you enthusiastically nodded.

"Who would've guessed I would've joined the FBI?" you laughed, reflecting on how much life had changed since then, "One time, I performed in a play as this spy who used bananas as a gun and now I get to use a real one. How crazy is that?"

"More concerning than crazy." Spencer muttered under his breath.

"What's with the red hair?" Morgan was still fixated on your dyed hair which sort of did make sense from how much you already express yourself through your clothing and personality like Penelope had.

"I had red hair for I think six years, but my hair wasn't exactly the healthiest so now it's natural, but i loved it so much." you shared with them.

"Why did you choose red?" Penelope questioned and you laughed because to you, the background behind the decision was one you could look back and find humor in.

At that moment, Hotch and JJ quickly made their way towards the bullpen area to inform the rest of the new case that had landed onto them that needed their utmost attention.

"That's actually a really fun story. In my freshmen year—" Hotch and JJ knew better than to interupt your while you are sharing a story because it could either truly be a fun story, or a disturbing one that they would later bookmark to discuss with you later. "I snuck out of my house to hang with my friends and when I tried sneaking back inside— my brother thought i was an intruder—"

The entire group could imagine where this story was going because any mention of your older brother never involved anything good nor legal, but none of them could have expected the full story. Except Doctor Reid, who quickly tied together the red hair connection to the scared brother.

"And so he took a vase and smashed it over my head. I was like knocked down for a few seconds but when I pulled myself up, I looked in the mirror and the blood had stained my hair since I had blonde highlights and I thought— wow, I look amazing with it! So later that week, I dyed it red. I also just really love red velvet cupcakes."

You innocently looked at the reactions of your fellow agents and none of them could speak. Emily opened then closed her mouth. Spencer couldn't even muster up any words for the first time in forever as you left his mouth slightly agape once again. He had predicted the story's route but even as he did, he is never prepared for you to actually say it. Sometimes he sort of hopes he is wrong, but on the off chance that he is, the story is always weirder or more disturbing than he imagined.

JJ and Penelope just locked eyes and couldn't move. Hotch blinked at you with the same stare of, 'We will call the counselor again'. Rossi learned to stop getting suprise and just offered you an encouraging smile and thankfully, he broke the silence.

"Red velvet cupcakes do look scrumptious. The red hair suited you."

You had an innocent laugh, "Right? When me and my friends performed a food song to little kids, I even dressed as a red velvet cupcakes. I had this whipped cream hat and everything."

"Um, I think Hotch and JJ have a case." Spencer stated and everybody did their best to snap out of their daze and direct their attention towards what should be more important.

"[Surname], can you please get the preparations ready for the trip." Hotch stated. You were the assistant of the group and part of your job involved getting traveling arrangements ready and helping JJ communicate with people.

"On it, sir!" You walked away without a care in the world as the rest of the agents made their way to the briefing room.

"Hotch." Morgan stated his superior's name with loud concern.

"I know Morgan."

[szatears]

☆ thinking about modernau!smoke coming home to you and your son...

obviously as a business man, he'd be away a lot, often for days at a time. but he always made sure not to stay away for too long, away from his family.

isaiah was your first born son with smoke. he was a tiny baby, his little body no longer than just over half your forearm when you first held him. that day was full of emotions for both you and smoke but in the end, it all paid off.

smoke was hesitant to leave you both when he got calls from his brother about something that had just come up. he'd try and make excuses, telling stack that he could go handled it and it would be fine, even though he knew when it came to handling business, stack was a little more loose than him.

it was you in the end who pushed him. smoke had been coddling you ever since you found out you were pregnant. wouldn't left you lift nothing heavy, touch anything that he could get for you. hell, you shouldn't even be breathing heavy around him if he could help it.

but you knew what his money meant to him. not more than you and his family, of course. but it was important to smoke that he was able to provide for you. "go, baby," you whispered one night as you lay close to him, your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat. "we'll be okay. plus i've been wanting some time alone with zai, can't have him growing up to be a daddy's boy now, can i?"

reluctantly, he listened to you. and the whole time be was away, all he could do was think about a quick way to do this is he could be back at home, his wife and son in his arms.

smoke couldn't believe he was a father now. it was something he'd dreams of, like a distant future he could never really grasp a hold of, until you came along. you changed his life, almost. gave him that sense of needing and being needed. you made sure that he could be elijah again without having the carry the burden of what he went through. sure, it was always gonna be with him. but with you, it was like he knew how to forget about that.

isaiah wasn't yet old enough to understand that his dad was away for days at a time, nor old enough to understand the reason why. he was just under a year old, gummy smile with two small teeth growing, barely learning how to stand up still for more than seconds at a time.

yet, when he heard the sound of the door opening followed by heavy footsteps, his head would turn, completely disregarding you handing him his toys.

he'd wait until his father walked into his view before he started squirming, a grin on his face as his legs kicked. it would've insulted you how much of a daddy's boy isaiah was if you didn't find it so heartwarming.

"there's my boy," smoke smiled as he picked him. another thing about welcoming a baby boy to the world — you've never seen smoke smile so much. even if he had a rough day, he never let it show around his son. he really was a saving grace to him.

smoke sat isaiah on his lap, leaning his body over towards you for a kiss. "hi, my love," you mumbled against his lips. smoke hummed, genuinely at peace, the day's events all forgotten.

"he been good for you, baby?" he asked, more so directed at isaiah, who only babbled as his dad gently tickled his stomach.

"he slept for most of the day," you yawned, using the arm that rested on the back of the sofa to support your head as you watched them. "wasn't too much trouble. though i'm beginning to think he's happier when you're around."

"yeah, that's my boy," smoke encouraged him, holding isaiah's hand for a high five. he looked over at you, trying to decode based on your body language and facial expressions if you had rested up like you told him you would.

"did you sleep today?" he asked.

"i slept enough last night," you shrugged.

"baby───"

"i'm fine, honestly," you fought a yawn that just so happened to want to be let out at that time.

"no you not. here, c'mon." smoke stood up with isaiah, holding his hand out for you. "it's almost tike for his bedtime, you can sleep too."

"elijah, i'm fine. plus i got a lot to do, i still have to prep for tomorrow───"

"stop making excuses, come on up," he had to speak firmly, you weren’t hearing him.

you stared at him and he stared right back. "woman, you know i'll put him to bed and come drag you up myself if i have to."

you did know. huffing, you walked in front of him, rolling your eyes when he slapped your ass.

whilst you washed your face, brushed your teeth and got ready for bed, smoke managed to put isaiah to sleep, grabbing the baby monitor with him as he came into the bedroom. you weren't in bed yet, at the vanity taking off your jewellery.

he came up behind you, his hands on your hips as he pulled your back into his chest. you caught a scent of the gel he used when he had a shower. "you showered before you came?" you asked.

"yeah, i stopped by stack's... stop changing the topic, c'mon," he tapped your side twice, and you let him lead you to the bed. before he got in though, you grabbed his arm. you had a frown on his face, making him frown to. "what's wrong."

"can i get a proper kiss?" you were already pulling him back towards you. smoke's face relaxed, a faint smirk on his lips.

he held one side of your face in his hand, pulling you towards his own. you smiled into the kiss, never ever getting tired of the feeling of his lips on yours. as he kissed you, his hands went trailing down your body. you knew what he was going to do so you helped him, lifting your leg up so in turn he could lift you up.

he carried you back to the bed, slowing setting you on it, never once breaking the kiss. you let out a light moan when he was on top of you, your hands raking over his toned body.

smoke groaned, pulling away from you to pull back the covers. "girl, you a damn distraction. get away from me," he joked, getting under the covers with you.

you laughed, settling underneath at the same time he did, letting him pull you close to him. his arm around your waist, you cuddled into his chest. just how you liked it.

taglist: @childishgambinaax @abriefnirvana @blackisy2k @chrisevansmentee @siasoup @amethyst09 @heauxtales @skywalker0809 @thelightknight21 @klssngss @atomicearthquakemusic7 @oc3anbxbyxoxo @honestlyurslol @simpingfor-wakasa

[gayhornythoughts]

Alright time for my thoughts on the root of this problem. I think a lot of it is inthat USAmericans arent Insentivized to learn culturally. Knowledge is not a virtue here, its seen as a road which leads to Financial Gain. Im a USAmerican, and I do believe we as a whole are culturally insensitive fuckwits who know nothing on aversge, but I think its in-part due to values pushed on us since childhood. The whole fucking country is a cult of its own.

"You live in America!! The land of the FREE!!! All you need to care about is us!! All those pansy wimps out in places like "Europe" and.. other countries.. they dont have what we do! We have power! Education! Wealth and Pride!"

Thats what most fucking americans here are like. Its insufferable and exhausting. The reason they dont research outside this shithole is because they think that the place they live is so perfect that no one elses lives matter. The world revolves around them.

In their mind, all the information they need is on how to fit in to American society.

"Everything AMERICAN MADE is SUPERIOR to anything from ANYWHERE ELSE"

This is something you hear a lot. That American Manufacturing for one reason or another is higher quality than any other. The closest competitors you hear of here is Sweden for Furniture (IKEA brand) or Germany for anything... generally Engineered. I think the IKEA thing is more a testament to IKEA's quality and advertising prowess than anything, but that's besides the point.

I think this mindset is why so many American reactionaries state that what they see outside of the country is Wrong. We're heavily sensationalized from birth with excessive amounts of propaganda about how amazing our country is. Our flaws are almost NEVER made the focal point here unless it's via an artist or writer whose art inevitably becomes another fucking brick of fuel for the capitalist machine.

So, ive established my theory on the mindset. American propaganda and American Sensationalism are heavily ingrained into our society as a whole. Education and knowledge is seen as a tool to get more income rather than to truly learn about the world around you. So, with the majority of Americans not looking into the outside world (They live in the best place after all, why would they?), how do they learn about countries outside of their own?

Why, through movies and shows of course!!

Everything Americans know about outside their country generally comes from Television and Film. Or at least it was before smart phones got in the hands of every living human on earth.

Media depicts countried as highly stereotyped typically. Mexico universally gets The Yellow Filter and is shown almost exclusively as dusty deserts in TV and media. Old worn down roads with outdated infrastructure and watering hole towns which rely on bucket wells. France is depicted almost exclusively as Paris (the sensationalized paris mind you, not the real one. I hear its kinda shit there tbh, but im not knowledgeable on the topic). Germany and Ireland are shown as just.. alcoholics and bars everywhere. That kind of shit.

So. That somewhat explains people who are now in their mid twenties to late fourties and why this is impacting them, but what of the younger generations whose primary media has been mobile devices?

Well, Im not as confident on this as I am about the media stereotyping thought, but hear me out. I think due to the attention economy online being so intense, with advertisements being so aggressive and clickbait being so genuinely insane, why would a child reasonably go "Hm, I could watch 'I went down this Dark Tunnel and found THIS INSIDE?!?!?! NOT CLICKBAIT' but I would rather go to wikipedia and read up on the history of Brazil."

Part of why school is blamed might also fall back to presentation and teaching methods? A lot of historical teaching methods are extremely dry, and all of it is so fucking sanitized and propaganda laden that it MAKES SENSE that most people growing up here would HATE to research about the world. Most peoples favorite parts of school were the ones where they did ANYTHING BUT SPEND TIME IN CLASS!! The most tolerable classes from what I came to understand were the science classes for chemistry labs, math courses for at least building upon itself somewhat, and english for potentially having decent fiction/nonfiction to read up on.

Also, something I noticed was that Media Literacy was NOT BEING TEACHED!! People werent being taught how to extrapolate meaning from texts through most schooling, typically we were TOLD the meaning and told any other thoughts we had were wrong! This would build into the lack of analysis skills and the lack of desire to research!

Overall, really to TLDR this:

USAmericans are raised in a cult environment from the ground up Systematically. Societal views here revolve around individual potential for the raise of capital. Knowledge is not seen as inherently valuable, rather being a method for obtaining financial gain. Alongside this, our schooling system primes students to Not Question Anything They're Shown, spoonfeeding us propaganda in our history courses as well as in our English courses. Besides the propaganda, the teaching methodologies provide answers without room for flexibility or personal interpretations which inhibits the development of curiosity and the desire to learn about the world. Due to this lack of curiosity, the Average USAmerican only absorbs any information from the world via media which typically presents heavily flanderized and stereotyped. While the aversge person could learn, they have no Drive to due to a mix of propaganda and lack of attention span.

im american and i knew that like in kindergarten so i think some of you are just stupid sorry

[theonlyonesora]

The Third Rule

Lily x Oscar Piastri x You (Reader)

Synopsis. “They were a pair—until we became a triangle.”

Chapter 01 – Pocket Boyfriend

The sun hit just the right angle on campus that day, golden and soft, like it had been filtered through a summer memory. I had collapsed onto the grass beside our little group, my backpack flung somewhere behind me and the weight of my finance finals finally peeling off my chest. I was free. My brain was still buzzing with formulas and late-night study sessions, but the only math I wanted to think about now was how many drinks I could responsibly down at tonight’s party.

“I swear if I failed macroeconomics I’m transferring to a cult in the woods,” Meg said, sipping iced coffee like it was the blood of her enemies.

“I’m going full wine aunt this holiday. Just me, my dog, a playlist called ‘crying at brunch,’ and no contact with reality,” Jessy declared, lying flat on her back with her sunglasses sliding down her nose.

And then there was Lily—perfect posture, hair somehow unbothered by the wind, scribbling something in her planner like we weren’t already mentally clocked out for the semester.

Lily and I had met in the first month of college. She was studying engineering, which meant she said things like “thermodynamics” and “fluid mechanics” and actually understood them. I was the finance girl with chaotic energy and a too-big planner filled with dreams and half-baked budgeting tips I never followed. We clicked instantly. She was the responsible one, I was the one doing tequila shots in the dorm hallway on a Tuesday. We balanced each other like opposite ends of a seesaw—somehow always meeting in the middle.

And yet, for all our closeness, there was always one ghost in the room: Oscar. Her long-term boyfriend. Formula 1 driver. Constantly flying. Constantly in another timezone. I hadn’t met him yet, not properly. He was always just on the other end of a FaceTime or in the stories she told, but never quite real.

“You should meet him,” she’d say. “You two are weirdly alike. It’s actually kinda scary.”

But the meeting never came. He was in Monaco. Or Melbourne. Or training. Or sleeping. But he never once seemed to mind that Lily and I were basically joined at the hip. And truthfully, I liked that. I liked that he trusted her. Trusted us. Because I loved her. Not in that way—not really. At least, I didn’t think so. Until that one day on the grass.

Jessy’s voice broke through the sleepy lull of our post-finals haze.

“So (Y/N),” she asked with a wicked glint in her eyes, “have you done it?”

“Done what?” I blinked, half-dozing.

“Ménage à trois.”

“Excuse me—what? It’s noon,” I groaned, sitting up. “It is way too early for this kind of scandal.”

“Just answer,” she pressed.

I laughed, brushing a blade of grass off my jeans. “No, I haven’t. Never done it.”

Jessy raised an eyebrow. “Not even curious?”

Before I could open my mouth, Lily’s voice slid in, soft and casual. “Are you curious?”

I turned to her. “Are you?”

She shrugged, playful, but something flickered in her expression—quiet, electric. “I don’t know… I think it can’t just be with anyone. But wouldn’t it be strange to do it with strangers?”

There was a pause. An almost imperceptible shift in the air. The kind of silence where a thousand things go unsaid but somehow still felt.

“I did it with a cousin once,” Jessy said, so casually she might as well have been talking about borrowing sugar.

“Oh my God,” Meg choked, nearly spitting her coffee.

“What?” Jessy blinked, genuinely confused.

“It’s family!” I said, horrified but laughing.

“It was high school!”

“Still!” I replied, shaking my head, half-disgusted, half-intrigued, and fully spiraling into the kind of laughter that makes your ribs ache.

Lily was laughing too, but something in her gaze lingered. She looked at me for a moment longer than usual, head tilted slightly, like she was filing something away in the corner of her mind for later. Like she was imagining something.

And I should have known then. I should have felt it—that thread pulling tighter, twisting quietly around us, waiting for the perfect night to snap.

.

Lily’s room smelled like coconut body lotion, hot flat iron, and vanilla perfume—basically the scent of girls getting ready to destroy lives

“You realize we’re just going to a bar, right?” I said, grinning. “Not the Oscars.”

“You can’t call it a ‘just a bar’ when it’s finals week and the entire city is out celebrating,” she replied, adjusting a gold hoop. “Besides, it’s been forever since we all went out.”

“We went out last week.”

“I said all

I rolled my eyes and stepped further into the bathroom, stealing a pump of her lotion while she was distracted. We'd been living together for four months now in a spacious apartment two blocks from campus—big enough for sleepovers in each other's rooms, dance parties in the living room, and nights spent sharing pizza and soft secrets. It was easy with Lily. Always had been.

And just as she picked up her phone to check the time, it started buzzing. Oscar.

“Speak of the devil and he FaceTimes,” I muttered, smirking.

Lily answered, holding the phone up to her face. Her voice instantly softened. “Hey, babe.”

I backed up a little to give them space but hovered just enough to be nosy.

“Are you with (Y/N)?” Oscar asked through the speaker.

I leaned into the frame dramatically, still in my towel. “Hello, pocket boyfriend.”

Oscar chuckled. “Hello, trouble.”

“Are you still calling him that?” Lily asked, amused but mock-exasperated.

“What? He’s always in your pocket! I’ve never seen him outside of a phone screen. Honestly, I’m starting to believe he’s AI.”

“Deeply hurt,” Oscar said with a hand to his chest. “You wound me.”

“But you're so polite about it,” I teased. “That’s what makes it worse.”

Our dynamic was weirdly natural for two people who’d never met in person. Friendly banter. Inside jokes. I’d always respected the space he and Lily shared, but I’d also never shied away from being me

“You two going out tonight?” he asked, brushing a lock of damp hair off his forehead.

Lily nodded, tilting the phone to show her outfit. “Yeah. The girls and I. Just bar hopping. (Y/N) made us promise we wouldn’t end up doing karaoke again.”

“That was one time!” I shouted from the bathroom.

Oscar grinned. “Just make sure she drinks water this time.”

“I always

Lily laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her.”

Oscar’s eyes softened at that. “You always do.”

There was a little pause then. Just a second too long. Like the sentence sat there between us, warm and humming with something neither of us fully named. Because yeah—she always did. And sometimes, I worried I let her.

“I gotta get dressed,” I said, suddenly aware of the towel slipping a little too far down my chest. “Nice seeing you, Oscar.”

“Soon, I hope,” he replied. “In real life. Not just FaceTime.”

Lily smiled, eyes flicking between the two of us. “Maybe we’ll finally make it happen this summer.”

“Careful,” I said with a wink. “I might actually steal him.”

“She’d probably let you,” Oscar joked.

And Lily?

But she didn’t say no.

[satorella]

“𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 (𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆) 𝐲𝐨𝐮.”

You watched as a bead of sweat dripped down the side of 𝐒𝐚𝐞’𝐬 temple. You guys have been at this for what felt like forever.

“You think you’re so fucking cool. Don’t you, Itoshi?” You taunted, with a mischievous grin forming on your face. “Just because I’m a girl, you think you’re better than me? I made it this far in the academy, same as you. Asshole.”

“You gonna keep hogging the ball, L/n? Hurry up and pass it to someone already so we can call it a day.” Sae sighs, his usual bored expression on his face.

His nonchalance spikes your goddamn blood pressure.

You grit your teeth, “Why? So you can just steal it from whichever loser teammate of mine? Fuck you.”

“Ah great, here we go again…” You hear the other players whine in the background.

That was the last time you saw Sae Itoshi, before you got scouted by your dream team overseas.

Madrid was quiet. Too quiet without you. He realized then, that the challenge wasn’t as fun anymore… if it wasn’t with you.

He wondered how you were doing. If you were happy with your new team and friends. If you were content with how your life was going right now.

If you’ve thought about him at all…

Wait. Is that what this feeling is? He misses you? Nah, can’t be him. You guys were rivals. You guys have hated each other since the day he arrived at the academy.

Well… you did, anyway. He never actually hated you. How could he, when you were the only form of entertainment he had there? The only one who could get his heart pumping… in more ways than one.

His thumb hovered over your contact.

Would you even answer?

Fuck it. Only one way to find out. And if you didn’t answer, he’ll just say it was a buttdial. Boom.

He pressed the call button.

After a few rings, you still hadn’t answered. Damnit, he shouldn’t have done this. He was about to cut off the call, when…

“Hello?” You finally answered, groggy from sleep.

He was silent for a second. He didn’t think you’d actually answer. But fuck did he feel a bit relieved.

“It’s me.” Was all he managed to get out. Idiot.

“Um, yeah? I know?” You pulled your phone away from your ear to double check the contact name. “Did I wake you?” He mentally facepalmed himself. He totally forgot about the different timezones.

You rolled onto your back and rubbed your eyes, “Y-Yeah…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Sorry. I’ll let you go-”

“Did you need something, Sae?” You cut him off, surprisingly not wanting to end the conversation just yet.

He blinked up at the ceiling. This was the first time he’s ever heard you call him by his first name, or spoken to him in a softer tone in general…

“Sae?” You called out to him again, snapping him out of his thoughts. “How’s your new team?” He clears his throat, his usual stoic tone returning. Though it didn’t annoy you this time.

You sat up in bed, fully awake now. “Good enough for me, as I knew they would be. My dream team after all, heh.” He nodded, even though you couldn’t see it. Good, you were happy.

“What about you? How are things?” You asked, genuinely curious. “Honestly? Boring.” He sighed. “How so?” “No one challenges me anymore. Not like you.” He spoke before thinking his words through. “Oh? Don’t tell me you miss me.” You joked. “I do.” He says bluntly. Your eyes widened, “I-I was kidding!” “I wasn’t.”

“…Did something happen, or?” You could hear your heart thumping in your chest. “No. Just wanted to hear your voice.” “You really don’t hold back, huh?” You chuckled awkwardly.

How were you supposed to respond? The guy hates your guts…

Right?

“Do you miss it?” He asked. “Eh? Miss what?” “Shit talking me every day. Glaring at me every chance you get.” He elaborates. You thought for a moment.

“Well I mean, my blood pressure doesn’t spike as much now that you aren’t around.” You joked again, “But… yeah. I miss beating you at your own game and all.” “Shut up,” He clicks his tongue, “I’m being serious.”

This conversation was making you… feel things. Things you tried to deny and hide away.

“…Yeah. I do kinda sorta… miss you. Just a teeny tiny bit. But don’t let that get to your head. Asshole.” Ah, and there it was. He was starting to think you’d gone soft.

“Come see me.” He blurted. Shit.

“W-What?” You tried not to sound surprised. “It’s off-season. And you’re clearly not going anywhere or visiting your family. So come visit me instead. I’m sure the bartender at that one bar downtown would have a kick at seeing us together… not trying to kill each other for once.” The last part made you giggle.

Sae Itoshi actually managed to make you laugh. Not a menacing or angry laugh, but a cute laugh.

Maybe moving overseas did make you soft…

Or maybe missing you, made HIM soft?

When you didn’t say anything for a while, he spoke up again. “I just emailed you the plane ticket.” You blinked at nothing, “What?!” You quickly rolled out of bed, stumbled over to your desk, opened your laptop, and logged into your email.

Sure enough, there was an email from him. “S-Sae you didn’t have to pay for my- huh? Day after tomorrow?!” “It was the last and soonest flight. Perfect right?” You could tell he probably had a smug expression on his face right now. “I didn’t even say yes!” You scoffed. “True, but I knew you would have. Anyways, I’ll let you go back to bed now. See you on Friday.”

“W-Wait!” You quickly called out before he could hang up on you. “What?” “I, um…” He waited for you to continue, “…I-I hate you.”

He let out a barely there, soft chuckle.

“I hate you too, Y/n.”

© 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒-𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

Join my tag list!📋

(𝑷𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝑳𝒐𝒄𝒌 discord server👯‍♀️)

[wooyngz]

thinking about caleb the ~virgin~.

cw for unprotected sex

he knew it would happen eventually. he's obviously had girlfriends here and there but nothing serious, and the most he’s done is fumble through trying to finger them, though he's fairly certain they faked their orgasms. not to mention, he’s had a crush on you forever, and he's not saying he was waiting for you but……

when you and him become serious, he realizes he maybe should have gotten some practice in. realizing he has no idea what to do now that you're in his lap, grinding down against his raging boner.

it feels so good he thinks he could cum in his pants, but he’s silently begging himself not to. he manages to hold out, but he knows he's a goner when you start kissing down his neck, “can i taste you?”

he hopes you can't hear the spike in his heart rate. hopes you can't tell that he just leaked precum in the front of his boxers. he nods eagerly, trying to calm his breathing down as you slip down onto your knees in front of where he's sat on the couch.

you, who have been wanting to get your mouth on him for a while now, waste no time at all once his pants are pushed down and his hard prick is standing at attention for you.

“haah…” his stomach tenses as you take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around him. caleb doesn't know what to do with his hands, so he grips your hair, accidentally pushing your head down into him. his tip hits the back of your throat and you let out an involuntary gag before pulling off with a ‘pop’.

“didn't picture you as a head-pusher,” you say, stroking him up and down. caleb is mortified, turning bright red.

“m’not, i just- i’m sorry i didn't know what to do with my hands…”

your head tilts to the side in confusion, you continue to stroke him. “what do you usually do with them?”

did he get more red? he had to have. “um…i don't…i haven't-”

he can tell the moment you connect the dots. he wants to say something, give some reason or something but he isn't sure what to say.

“you’ve had girlfriends before though,” you say, still stroking him, though much slower now. you're not saying this in a mean way, more so in a state of genuine confusion. you take you time working up to the head of cock, circling it gently before stroking back down. his brain is about to short circuit.

“haven't…ngh- have-haven't done anything though.” he says, his hips shuffling around a bit, a pearl of precum leaks from the tip and you quickly lick at it, he hissed out a breath.

“it’s shame,” you say, swirling your tongue around his tip, “you taste amazing,” to emphasize this, you take him back into your mouth, moving slower with him not that you know this is his first blowjob.

“i- i do?” he says, his jaw going slack when you hum a ‘mhmm’ around the fullness of his cock in your mouth. maybe it's the praise, or maybe it's the fact that the noise you made sent delicious vibrations down his shaft but within a few minutes he's warning you that he's close.

you let him cum in your mouth, and you make a show of swallowing just to watch him turn red again. he, of course, wants to return the favor but you let him know you're content to just get him off for now…

but!! then a week or so later, he’s got his head between your legs. he was enthusiastic, immediately licking and sucking and absolutely devouring you, but you had to tap him on the shoulder and tell him to slow down and take his time.

you coax him through what to do from there, letting him know exactly what it is you like. first it’s just his mouth, alternating between light licks to your clit and full-on french kissing your wet pussy. he goes from your clit to your entrance and back, you can tell he’s just trying everything.

then he decides to add two fingers into the mix and your entire back arches off the bed. he starts off slow, pumping them in and out at an agonizing pace, and it feels good, so so good but you want to encourage him to make it feel even better.

“curl your fingers,” he adjusts his position and does as he's told, earning a moan from you, “that's it, ohhh just like that, caleb.”

you run your fingers through his hair, tugging gently to test the waters, and he groans into you. you make a mental note that he's a fan of hair pulling.

he’s good at taking directions. he doesn't seem to mind being down there for the fifteen minutes it takes for your orgasm to build. any other guy you've been with old have given up and either asked for a blowjob or just went straight to fucking you by now but not caleb. he’s moaning just as much as you are.

he sense of pride he gets when your legs clamp around his head and he feels you pulse around his fingers in unreal. he keeps licking to clean you up and you have to push his head away from overstimulation. when you catch your breath you try to return the favor only to be met with a wet spot on the front of his boxers and a bashful caleb.

he came when he put his fingers in for the first time.

but!! when he fucks you for the first time??

he whimpers when he puts it in for the first time. a whiny little noise before he huffs out a breath. he has to pause with his tip in because he thinks he might blow his load right there.

he doesn't, and when he calms down he presses all the way in. “god you feel good, feel so full,” you say, your walls stretching to accommodate his impressive size.

you let him do what feels good. your goal is for him to have fun. he finds a good pace quickly, and you both can't fight the noises that bubble out as he slowly fucks you into the mattress. you reach between your bodies to circle your own clit, but you know you're not going to cum from this, it's not the point.

"i’m- i think i’m-” you can tell he's trying to tell you he’s close, but he doesn't need to. you can feel him throbbing, you can tell his rhythm is started to stutter.

“go ahead, baby,” you say, gripping onto his hair and kissing at his neck, “want you to cum for me,” and that's kind of the only confirmation he needed.

“o-oh,” he moans, “cumming…i’m cumming,” he grits out less than a second before releases inside of you. you let him lay on top of you with all of his body weight, partially because it feels nice and partially because he completely collapsed as soon as he came.

he definitely takes his time cleaning you up afterwards too, still with a slight blush on his cheeks, which you lightly tease him about because “you're blushing after you just came inside of me?” which, of course, only makes him blush even more.

[sqgeism]

anaxa and phainon with a reader who has nightmares? :c (i havent slept in a week plz help me ╯︿╰)

hru doing btw? i hope ure good <3

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐬 | amphoreus men x gender neutral reader

love mail — hi anonnie!! thank u for the request, and yes i'm doing well ♡ ≡(＞。＜) i genuinely miss my colors sk bad... writing this in a bus since i wanna finish up some requests! hope you're alright anonnie :( hugs n kisses ! i hope u sleep good soon MUWAH

i don't think anaxa gets nightmares often, but he knows you do. actually, you got one on the very first night you two began sleeping together.. queue a somewhat panicked anaxa who is unsure how to help.

now that you two have lived together for a while, he's been trying to find different ways to help. big or small gestures, whatever stops your trembling form and shaky breaths.

one night, while you sleep in and anaxa stays up late in his lab — his usual silence is changed by a knock on the door, attention shifting from his research to something more important; the pretty little thing at his door. "it's bothering you again?" he doesn't even hesitate, turning his chair around as you throw yourself into his lap, curling against him to fit nicely as anaxa sighs. not of annoyance, far from, just.. worry. "i'm here if you need me. must it be words of comfort, or just a shoulder to lean on, i'm here."

hands that he's believed were unloveable slowly rub against your back, and in this moment anaxa can only think; they are safe here. it isn't exactly a statement, no, he's processing it. you find comfort in the shell of the person he once was, when he believed that no one could love him for who he was. yet you're here, seeking his warmth, his existence. to hide away from the nightmares that eat at you.

anaxa's research is forgotten, he doesn't mind. he'll be there for as long as you need him.

waking up panting and afraid sets something off in mydei, and he's just as fast to get up as you are. he turns on the bedside lamp and gently cups your face, guiding you to look at him and ground you back into the moment. you're not in a nightmare, you're home. you're with him, as you should be. unlike the terrors that rob you of peaceful slumber, you're with the embodiment of assurance.

slowly, carefully, he rubs your cheeks with his thumbs and shushes you softly. "you're here," he mumbles, kissing your temple in a way that lingers. "nothing can hurt you. not when i'm at your side, i'll sooner burn the bridges between life and death than let something hurt you.

if you fall back asleep quickly, he cuddles you as the big spoon and whispers comforting scenarios for you. hoping it'll trick your mind (the only form of manipulation he'll do) and give you sweet dreams instead. his firm, warm arms keeping you safe and quick to wake you if you start fussing again.

if not, and you seem to be too shaken to fall asleep, he'll help you do things you love to calm you down. tracing his markings, asking him questions or stories of his life, and his personal favorite.. letting him kiss all his favorite parts of you. honestly, just an excuse to lavish you in affection, but he's glad it helps. it soothes the silent battles of his mind, after all.

phainon's probably the most lighthearted of the three, when you jolt up from the initial nightmare, he's already holding your hand and letting you squeeze him as tight as you need it. sometimes, he lets out a fake wince so you snap out of it for a second out of concern, he takes that opportunity to compose himself and tease you about being a worrywart. he notices you frown, but begin to smile as he brings your hand to his lips — kissing your knuckles as he offers an ear to listen.

should you choose to talk about your terrors, phainon takes your words seriously and sincerely. he rests on your lap, or the other way around, and you play with each others hair depending on how it's positioned. (you like how soft his hair is, it kind of looks like cotton candy..) he listens to you and comforts you with little words of affection. "i'm so sorry, i'm here for you", "that's horrible. but you're here now, alright? i love you." and something along the lines of; "nothing will ever happen as long as i'm here, okay? i'll make sure of it."

if you don't, either too tired or just don't want to talk about it, phainon tries to make you laugh instead. embarrassing tales of his adventures, stupid jokes, even showing you saved videos on his phone. little things that he's noticed help you greatly.

and when you finally yawn, and he knows his job is done, he lets you lay on top of him and 'cages' you there. listening to the heart that beats for you as you drift off again, a reminder that you'll never be alone when you wake up, because you know you'll always have someone waiting for you.

[theswisscheeserag]

Honestly as the grandchild of a Vietnamese woman (and a Vietnam vet) the extent to which other people know nothing about Vietnam, or if they do it’s in the form of a joke, astonishes me. I recently spoke to someone who didn’t know it was a civil war that the US made its business who said he “always wondered why we went to war with Vietnam, that makes more sense.” It’s always been something I heard about, both sides: the horrors of napalm and of agent orange, My Lai, etc, and also the dehumanization of young drafted American men, disproportionately Black, and the intensity of the protests. I didn’t think you could not know these things, I didn’t realize that it was because I was a direct product of it. Still most people I know only know about the draft and protest, and tend not to know much about the racial side of it, and don’t even spare a thought for the people of Vietnam and Laos (have most of them even heard of Laos?) I joke about it too, lord knows it’s my right, but I’m genuinely horrified when I start to realize how little people know. This is not ancient history. Your parents or at least grandparents remember this. You have no reason not to know it.

So like, the Vietnam War

[utilitycaster]

Sorry if you've answered this kind of question before, but yesterday's ask about the villains made me think about the opposite: what kind of story do you think Bells Hells could have worked well in, the way they are? With their complete disinterest about the world I struggle to imagine them working in anything but a monster of the week kind of format where things are just kind of thrown at you...

Hey anon,

This is a fantastic question because it gets to the crux of something I don't know if I've properly articulated and honestly might not have the right words for so if any of my mutuals who have a greater degree of expertise in narratology/storycraft than I do want to mark this up with red pen, go nuts.

The way I approach characters in stories is not just who they are initially; but who they become through the process of the narrative in which they find themselves. I'm not immune to a first impression! I repeatedly find myself initially drawn to more driven, serious, emotionally closed off, genuinely good but kind of a bitch about it characters; and dismissing the ones I see as chaos gremlins, and then having to recant myself if/when the chaos gremlins show more depth through their actions. I rarely find myself drawn to a character like Nott or Fiedra (to use a couple recent examples) from the start; both won me over utterly. This isn't always the case! Sometimes they don't win me over! But my point is that I think most people have archetypes they immediately latch onto and are comfortable with and even might ultimately prefer through the course of the story (and I am no exception), but character and story are inherently intertwined with each other. It's essentially nature vs. nurture but for narrative.

So: a big part of the problem is that Bells Hells were given a story that failed to challenge them in such a way that they would grow into it. They were told what to do and infodumped at and their own motivations often wrapped up remarkably early in the narrative with little effort on their part so that we could get to the Moon Plot, and then suddenly the bottom dropped out and they were suddenly supposed to do a bunch of vitally important quests with relatively little guidance or oversight, and like many a sheltered teen going 1000 miles away for college, they did not respond well. Unfortunately, instead of taking the "well fuck it I'm going to do jaegerbombs and see what happens" route they went the "I'm going to beg whoever I see as an authority for answers while also resenting them for not giving me the answers I wanted or worse, suggesting I try to come up with my own" route.

I think had Bells Hells had an introduction rather more like the Mighty Nein's or what we know of Vox Machina's, they'd have become people who could make those decisions! Because the thing is, both those parties kind of did have a Monster of the Week format early on because that's a really normal way to start a campaign! If they'd spent their lower levels having to reluctantly work together without any benefactors and take watch in a hostile environment and take on weird jobs for money, I can't guarantee that they would have become decisive and self-motivated and interested in the world around them, but I think it would have been much, much more likely! No one was particularly intelligent, but to give an example, Imogen did have a lot of interest in finding out about her powers! A narrative in which that was not a "we have to give her the answer in the first 50 episodes so we can get to the moon plot" but rather a slow burn that required seeking out knowledge and following threads throughout the campaign would have meant regular trips to libraries or archaeological dig sites or academic institution, and that could have served as an ongoing motivator and as a means for other characters to learn more about the world while Imogen was reading about her magic. But because those avenues were largely closed off after the beginning of the campaign and the answer given at like, the 40% mark, there was no opportunity for her to grow or change or develop other interests.

There's a reason why the classic D&D setup is "you meet in a tavern, you take weird jobs on the job board, and you eventually fight god" and not "you meet in a tavern, you have a series of benefactors, you resolve 90% of your backstories in the first 40 episodes, and then the BBEG happens" and it's because taking weird jobs on the job board is what turns you from "only fit for Monster of the Week plot" to "a group of people who can make complicated decisions and who have a deep interest in the world." The only reliable way I've seen to get around this is by explicitly telling your players "This is the basic premise of the story I want to tell, so I need you to play curious and decisive people from the jump." Disliking the odd jobs route of an early campaign but wanting a complex ending is like wanting to run a marathon but refusing to train for it.

I've been trying to focus my critique of Campaign 3 on the campaign itself and not its fans at this point but I think this is relevant: I find a lot of fans are not really that happy with much of what happened, but are big fans of Bells Hells as people (to the point of treating them with more personhood than their detractors). This has led to some statements I can only describe as wildly stupid and in bad faith in which they seem oddly incapable of processing the idea that one's opinion on a character can - and should! - change over the course of the story based on that character's actions; whenever I and others were like "hmm, I don't like the turn Ashton is taking" it was interpreted as some kind of Rapid Onset Bigotry That Exclusively Applies to Ashton And Not FCG (or Dairon, or Yudala, or FRIDA, or like, any other nb characters) or (hilariously given what I just said) inconsistency and not "if you used to like someone and then they said something really shitty, you might not like them any more". And the thing is, that is the problem of Campaign 3 in a nutshell, even without the fandom - Bells Hells seemed to be simultaneously terrified of seeming like bad people and also all too willing to be self-absorbed and inconsiderate, and most crucially never seemed to realize that stasis and indecision are themselves horrible qualities that many people dislike. Bells Hells as the characters who showed up in Campaign 3 episode 1 were not doomed to be the people they became; the narrative (and obviously the player choices) led them into that. I do not, after 121 episodes, give points for lost potential; but a different campaign from the start might have actually brought out that potential and made them into characters who could be the focus of a good story.

[somebody-not-from-here]

Snippet of something I started on the bus home from watching Thunderbolts bc hooo boy did I miss Bucky

No spoilers just congressman!Bucky x media assistant!reader

“Well, at least you have a lot of online support.” She posited. “Especially with younger people.“

That piqued his interest. “I didn’t know the younger generations cared about veteran’s rights policies.”

She fiddled with the screen of her laptop, pushing it back and forth on its hinges, contemplating how to phrase her next sentence. “Well, it’s not exactly your policy - though that definitely helps - it’s more. Well, congress is filled with mostly old white men, you know?”

A scoff. “I’m an old white man. I literally fought in world war 2.”

“Yeah but… how do I say this…The other old white congressmen, with good policies, don’t have the added advantage of being the de facto sex symbol of politics, right now.”

Fuck. Worst possible way she could have said it. Proven further by the look of utter confusion and dumbfoundedness on her boss’ face right now.

“The- what?”

“You…” god. Her face was burning. “To put it plainly; you’re a hit with the straight ladies and the gays, uh, sir.”

“They think I’m…attractive.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why?”

That was a hilarious question to receive - from the man that pays her salary, no less. From the winter soldier, even. And the sheer comical nature of it all was heightened by how genuinely he had asked. Clearly he had never been literally anywhere on the internet, in the last year. How does she even begin to answer, not only something so incredulous, but also (in her non-professional and very much personal unshared opinion) kind of obvious?

“Well,” her eyes couldn’t help but trace his figure. I mean surely he knew he was attractive, right? She could only imagine the amount of girls he would have pulled back when he was just a boy in uniform on his days off from punching nazis and protecting the country. She wasn’t even particularly pro-military, herself, and even she could see the appeal.

Add to that the beard scruff and the hair you could only dream of running your hands through and those eyes and the fucking motorcycle-

“You’re just naturally likeable. It’s attractive.” Is what she settles on, so that she doesn’t sound like a college freshman in heat in front of her fucking boss.

Something makes him hesitate, then. Blue eyes assess her for what feels like forever. And, for a moment, she’s so sure that being blipped all over again would be preferable to the whatever energy that this conversation has brought into the room and has her face turning every shade of red.

Then he smiles, amused. “Naturally likeable.” He actually laughs a bit, and seeing Congressman Barnes laugh feels like something extremely precious and rare. Something she is getting an absolute privilege to see. “There’s very viable claims out there that I could have killed JFK, and you think I’m naturally likeable.”

“You’re mysterious! Dangerous but noble. Intimidating but not an asshole about it,” - and you have a great ass, she holds back, “it’s appealing!”

“ I have a metal arm that could crush a person’s skull with barely any effort.”

“Yeah! It’s hot!”

His eyebrows shoot up and she curses internally. Shit. “Um, that’s what the demographics say, anyway. Sorry. That was just my professional opinion and I spoke out of turn. I’ll just stop now-“

“No, no, please. Continue, sweetheart.” His smile turns ever so sinister and she’s pretty sure she’s going to pass out. “I’d love to hear your unprofessional opinions on why I’m appealing.”

———————————————————————-

Maybe I’ll continue it. I have ideas…

[000000-000000-000000]

I would love to see your headcanons for who's the most to least likely to sub for their partner! Whatever characters of your choice <3

hii!! this was honestly so fun to write :P these lowkey are kind of like a scenario split into hcs, idk why but that's just how my brain decided to go about it lol.

they're in order from most to least likely to sub :P also the prompt i worked with as a base for these is basically the reader bringing it up to them while in a relationship. i found it worked better than just writing who would do it voluntarily (because they wouldn't i'm afraid 💀). also also, gn partner!

enjoy!! <3

Creepypasta Submissive Headcanons (NSFW)

CW: dom/sub dynamics, a bit of brat taming?, degradation, a bit of bondage, spit, orgasm control/edging, dubcon at the end, oral (giving and receiving for both the characters and the reader), slight mention of trauma but nothing explicit

BEN Drowned

모 sex with him is generally you centric because he's always geeked off that grass and uses that as an excuse to be lazy and lay back while you ride his face and use his dick—he gets off anyway, so might as well let you do the work under the pretense of "Yeah babe you can use me, empowerment or whatever."

모 so when you bring up domming him, he doesn't even think twice about it. goes into it thinking it's just regular sex but on steroids. not because he's blind to what it means—he's been inside the internet, he's seen shit—but because it's you. and what will you do.

모 there would be a tiny brat-dom dynamic by default because, yeah he's down for whatever you bring up, but he cannot take it fully seriously. kind of difficult to do that when you're baked like a pastry.

모 you want him to address you with a superior nickname? "yes ma'am/sir/master" but he's rolling his eyes and sporting a shit eating grin the entire time because he thinks it's comical.

모 you demand that he doesn't jerk off unless you tell him to? definitely does it when he's nose deep between your legs just to see what you do about it. "What?? It's muscle memory babe, don't pretend it's not hot."

모 genuinely huffing and puffing if you tied his hands behind his back and edged him as punishment. talking shit up until the point he's twitching and rutting in the air when you stop touching him. then it's:

"Holy shit, OKAY I'm sorry, fuck, I'm sorry, just— babe-master, I'm getting dick cramps, come on,"

모 refuses to beg for about 10 seconds total. the moment you tease him again, "Ohhh my fucking god, please fuck me, please, I can't take this anymore, PLEASE make me cum".

모 balls deep inside you and choking on mindless thanks, making these broken, indignant whines if you told him to slow down.

모 all in all, however, he would be into it more than he expected. it doesn't become default freaky time because he does not have that kind of energy, but when it happens again, he'd lay off the brattiness.

모 aftercare is basically non-existent. he doesn't need it, he would just spark up again and hop on the game, but if you felt like you needed it, it would be more quality time than cuddles.

Toby Rodgers

𓌏 he's lowkey a closeted switch disguised as a feral fuck machine so when you bring it up he gets lowkey defensive, he feels CLOCKED.

𓌏 "What, s-so I don't fuh-fuck you good? That it?" "Is this a con-control thing? You want a-an excuse t-to bully me?" full 7 stages of grief like huh?

𓌏 eventually agrees grudgingly which, in other words, means he was fiending for this shit forever but he never surpassed preteen emotional maturity. so, coming to terms with being bossed around was a project in erosion (thanks Slender).

𓌏 he's acting like a stray dog at first, defenses up so high that you have to break character and remind him it's still just you and if he doesn't like something he can just tell you. didn't even establish a safe word because you thought this was going to fail from the start.

𓌏 it takes approximately 5 minutes of you easing him into it with gentle authority assertion until he melts and starts begging, just like that. you're half-way into calling him a good boy for making eye contact when you asked, and he's already whining.

𓌏 you specifically avoid degradation because you don't wanna push it. however, "Are you gonna be a good boy and stay still while I suck you off?" is exactly the moment where the puzzle pieces fall into place for him.

𓌏 "Yes, I'll— f-fuck I'll be the b-best fucking slut f-for you, please," oh okay. i thought we were— alright??

𓌏 barely a decent slut for you, canNOT stay still, but he tries. kind of. hips thrusting up too excitedly, cockhead ramming so hard in the back of your throat that you basically feel the bruise forming in real time. "S-shit, fuck, I'm sorry— I-I'm sorry, it's a t-tic, please d-don't stop." lies.

𓌏 quickly discovers he likes begging with his mouth full. your fingers, your underwear, you, anything. choking on messy “pl-please, c’n I cum, I’ll be g-good, I swear", so needy you would confuse his pleas for the begging of his victims.

𓌏 hot take or not, slight mommy/daddy kink. obvious reasons.

𓌏 so obnoxiously loud when you start degrading him. "You're that much of a worthless mutt? You can't even take what I give you and you're expecting me to let you cum?" groaning, whining, eyes glassy and mouth snarling like he's in pain, voice cracking when you have a hand around his throat, or a foot on his chest.

𓌏 when you finally let him cum, he sobs actual tears. voice breaking and wheezing from how begging in guttural groans scratched his throat the entire time. spit dripping down his neck from the gash in his cheek. whole body convulsing and tics flaring up like crazy. you can barely even hear the thanks he whispers breathlessly.

𓌏 so quick to clean his cum out of you if you asked.

𓌏 aftercare consists of him completely limp on top of you while you detangle his sweaty hair, muttering little praises in his ear, which he petulantly grunts away like you didn't just reduce him to whimpering mush.

Eyeless Jack

⚉ he's a predator by nature, so subbing isn't exactly something that's ever crossed his mind. but the thing with Jack is, he doesn't just do relationships. if you're partners, you're really fucking special to him, and by proxy he would jump into it just because he's devoted. so, your answer would be a short, certain "...Alright."

⚉ he's surprisingly a very good sport about it. the second you put your hand on his chest and push him down, he goes easy. obedient. no passive aggressiveness, no brattiness, no "I could flip this on you so quick". he just watches you from where he's propped up on his elbows with this unreadable expression like he's waiting for you to take him apart and it doesn’t even bruise his pride.

⚉ doesn’t beg, doesn’t whimper, doesn’t plead. but the second you tell him to stay still and open his mouth, he does. you’ll straddle his chest and he just tilts his head back, mouth parting obediently, waiting for your fingers, your taste, anything.

⚉ he'll sit and take whatever you give him, answers everything with short, respectful answers like it's something sacred. "You like being used, big boy?" "Yes, ma'am/sir." the only sign he’s into it is how fucking hard he gets from just serving you.

⚉ at one point you slap his hand away when he tries to jerk off without permission and he just freezes. like a dog being told to stay. stares at you with wide sockets and says, “...Apologies.” voice low, like it’s actually sincere.

⚉ takes edging mostly unphased, only grunting when you stop to watch his leaking cock twitch helplessly on his stomach. the restraint is borderline terrifying. HOWEVER, by the 5th, 6th time, he's panting, thighs shaking, hips thrusting in the air purely out of instinct.

⚉ you tie his wrists behind his back just for fun, and the moment you straddle him, his whole body tenses like a loaded weapon. he doesn't dare move until you tell him to. when you finally lean back and put your hands on his knees for leverage while riding him—bouncing, relentless—he jerks his hands against the ties, teeth bared in a hiss.

⚉ doesn't need praise, didn't react to it the entire time, but the moment you start huffing out little "so big, so obedient, such a good fucking toy for me" while he's balls deep inside you, his chest ruptures with a growl.

⚉ the only real, shaken reaction you'll get out of him is when you give him permission to cum. chokes on a growl, snarls "yes, fuck yes, yes—" through gritted teeth and starts pistoning into you from below.

⚉ doesn't need aftercare, but he just lays there with you like he’s resting after a blood ritual. no words. no movement. you curl into him and he shifts just enough to wrap an arm around your waist. breathes in slow, reverent, like he’d let you kill him if you wanted.

Brian Thomas

☹ bringing it up to him in a conversation would go south quickly. sex with him generally feels impersonal and more like a vessel for frustration, regardless of how long you have been together. letting his guard down is off the table.

☹ unless you manage to sneak it into the rare instance where he's allowing himself to relax just enough to soften a bit. where he kisses you slowly while stroking your back under the covers and his body succumbs to your gentleness, instead of crashing his mouth into yours with clenched teeth and shoving his hand in your underwear like fucking you as urgently as possible would take the weight off his shoulders.

☹ starting slow would be the best course of action. gently guiding his face to the side to drag your lips down his neck, feeling him through his shirt while whispering into his skin. "Relax, let me take care of you", "Let me take these off, baby", "Lift your hips for me."

☹ looks at you with these wary eyes and parted lips like he's so torn. but he lets you. lets you undress him, lets you get on top of him to kiss down his chest, down his stomach. lets you lick up his shaft instead of grabbing your hair and guiding you to take him in your mouth right off the bat. even fights himself to keep still and not rush you when you start teasing him.

☹ "So good for me, baby" while stroking from the base up and licking around his tip? he whimpers. genuine, meek, like that's enough to crack him open.

☹ hands will eventually fly to your hair on instinct. you'll grab his wrists and set them down back at his sides, not forcing them down but just holding your hands over them to remind. he wouldn't squirm, but he would tense. and "be a good boy for me and i'll give you what you want, okay?" is enough to get him biting his lip and breathe harder.

☹ the more you give, the more he gives back like it's natural. you take him deeper, relax your throat and let his cock slide down slowly, he groans so deep you can barely hear the "fffuck yes, thank you," but it's there. small and new and unsure, but coming out without resistance.

☹ praise, for anything and everything, and he melts into a puddle of breathy moans and shaking thighs. "Look at you, you look so fucking good on your knees for me" and his eyes would roll back in a muffled whine.

☹ surprisingly self controlled when you tell him just how to fuck you, but he's panting in your ear like it's painful not to pound into you when you keep him moving slowly. "F-fuck, you're so tight, please, just a bit... just— let me fuck you proper, please."

☹ does NOT take edging easily. crumbling by the second time he starts getting close, bucking up into your hand and sweating bullets.

☹ looks damaged when you let him cum. eyes wide, brows pinched together tightly, mouth wide open and slack and nothing coming out, like you punched the air out of his lungs.

☹ aftercare is silent and sticky with tight hugs and noses buried in each other's shoulders. won't say it out loud in a million years, but it felt cathartic.

Tim Wright

⦻ takes a LOT of convincing, a lot of reasoning, you even almost resort to making a google slideshow for him. however, it's clear from the get go he's not fully opposed to it with the way he's smirking every time you start your "hear me out" rant. he just wants to watch you reason with him just to fuck with you a little. mind games™

⦻ agrees EVENTUALLY. and he's deceptively composed when he gets on his knees for you. deceptive little grin when you spread your legs and pull him in. something's wrong.

⦻ "Tim." "What?? I'm on my knees, no? Ain't you supposed to call me a good boy?" before he dives in with his entire mouth right away. latches on and sucks like he's trying to prove something.

⦻ "Hm? Easier? Should've specified." "Maybe you should get rougher with me so I listen. C'mon, you wanted this, do I have to teach you?"

⦻ you do get rougher. yank him off you by the hair, hold him there and jerk his head while you scold him. he just looks up at you with low eyes and a sharp, toothy grin, like he's completely unphased by the sting but loving you getting riled up.

⦻ makes a show of jacking off after you specifically demanded that he doesn't, moaning a little extra when you slap his hand off his dick. "Shit, yeah, punish me baby, I've been sooo bad. Maybe you should tie me up too."

⦻ ends up cuffed for maybe 5 minutes while you alternate between fisting his cock and slapping it, before he somehow he ends up out of the restraint—maybe he slipped his hands out because you didn't want to be cruel by tying them too tight and giving him rope burn on his wrists, maybe he just undid the knot while you were focused on keeping him on the edge. either way, you end up yanked on top of him mid "petulant fucking manwhore".

⦻ "Come on, is that it? You're giving up that easy?" gives you no chance whatsoever to stop him from shoving inside you from below. it quickly morphs into thrashing for who fucks who, half him sloppily thrusting into you, half you wrapping both hands around his neck and bouncing on his dick while snarling.

⦻ a mess of spit. yours in his mouth, his on your chest, wetting the sheets, somehow in your hair. he looks like he's thriving while you're genuinely frustrated that he flipped it on you.

⦻ "Tim, come on—!" "Come on? Oh, you want me to cum on you? Fuck, ain't you gonna make me beg for it first?" mockery on 100% even though his voice is shaking by the unforgiving way he just slams into you, just challenging you to keep talking, keep trying, keep failing.

⦻ ruined orgasm. you haul yourself up right when he's starting to grunt low and breathless in his throat, over and over like he does when he's close. actually gasps when he starts pulsating and throbbing angry spurts on his own stomach, cock spasming frustrated and his expression so shocked, like you were the traitor.

⦻ no aftercare, only because he's moping that it felt like shit. you're so proud, and underneath all that huffing and puffing, he is too. silently.

Jeff the Killer

꒷꒦ ...right.

꒷꒦ so, you bring it up to him one night, soft and careful and fully aware of how stupid of an idea this is. hands cold, eyes on the floor, voice so meek and shaky he actually goes "HUH?" 3 times before you actually spit it out.

"Have you, um... thought about, like... letting me be the one in charge...? Like, when we fuck?" instant regret.

꒷꒦ he barks at you. genuinely cackling, eyes bugging a little extra, like that was just so hilarious. you're already backpedaling because you know you should've just kept this in the vault and jerked off to it in private instead.

"You wanna dom me? Hilarious babe, fucking hysterical."

꒷꒦ flips it so fucking fast, you don't even have time to open your mouth before he's on you. hand on your throat so tight you can feel your pulse in your temples, eyes sharp and manic and pinning you down. "You wanna sit on my dick and boss me around? Are you out of your fucking mind, bitch?"

꒷꒦ shoves you down at his feet so you fall face down next to his shoes. yanks you up by the hair and slams his crotch into your face, keeping you there until you're clawing at his legs for air. fucks your throat raw like he's trying to shut you up forever, pinches your nose when you start choking as if to punish you for even conjuring up the thought of flipping the dynamic. "Dominant little whore can't take a fucking blowjob?"

꒷꒦ fucks you like he's correcting you, no prep, no lube (unless you count the spit from your mouth already on his dick). ass up, face pushed in the pillows by his foot on the back of your head.

꒷꒦ "You need to have the stupid fucked outta you? Huh? Say you're stupid. Say 'that was the stupidest shit I done ever said in my life'." "I'm— I'm sorry, I—" "Say it or I'll fucking beat it out of you."

꒷꒦ you do not bring it up again. or maybe you do.

[sketchalicious]

by god you understand

ramble under the cut i wanna geek out about this so bad lol

sorry to ramble a bit about the layton family, but their flaws in constantly trying to live up to this standard/deal with their main conflict is so interesting because you almost don't expect it from the children of layton of all things. like ,,, sure you'd understand the expectation, but like from an outsider standpoint it feels so strange, like youd think there should be some sort of proper maturity about it at least. at their core they really are like their dad though

im not gonna go on a tirade about how neglectful layton may be as a parent but they all have a common trait of going after some adventure rather than handling what's important. an example for layton is him going after katrielle's father despite there ,,kind of not really being a large benefit (and also generally not being in the picture anymore.) he's smart enough to understand that the pros dont outweigh the cons in possibly leaving katrielle completely alone, should something go wrong. if the canon considered alfendi, the same goes for him as well - neglecting the both of them for the sake of some fruitless adventure with the idea that it could possibly be righteous. those stakes are all for only one child, might i add.

outside of his kids though layton just has a huge problem with neglecting his main responsibilities - dude was never a detective but is very frequently treated to be like one, so much so to the point where his kin decided to take up that role. as a professor he put his job in jeopardy tons of times for the sake of adventure.

katrielle and alfendi neglect their main conflicts in their own ways. (i gotta replay mystery room to get a proper grasp at it so forgive me if this portion of the ramble is stupid lol,) the both of them are clearly at least a little bit tormented by the loss of layton, especially since it happened at such a young age. i feel like the both of them handle these emotions through some sort of escapism and dancing around the issue, though one is clearly more angry about it than the other.

katrielle is hopeful and sees her father in a better light, but wants so badly too to become her own person despite him. either way she misses him dearly. alfendi however is a lot more blunt about how he feels towards him. and i don't have a lot of proof regarding his opinion, that line of dialogue "forget hershel, I am layton" really gives me the feeling that he's not on good terms with layton. though i doubt he's addressing this anger properly with how infrequently layton is mentioned in-game.

all that said i do really like the idea of them having arguments about layton himself. the idea that katrielle is constantly defending their father while alfendi is trying to make her see him for what he thinks he is is SUCH an interesting thought. i do believe that they'd both be too emotional to have a genuine talk about it, and my personal headcanon is that they're apart solely because of this conflict (and also just arguments about who should "take his place," with katrielle probably winning by taking up the logo and the hat silhouette). but in canon i really don't think that's the case and that is greatly upsetting lmfao

to answer your question that u probably dont want answered but im gonna answer anyway:

i have an inkling the canon is that they could've been raised separately, hence why we haven't had a genuine canon interaction, and that mystery room takes place after layton is found. (like directly after.) that said i only have one piece of evidence for this idea and its a spoiler lol so i wont state it, plus it's pretty weak. but i think their timelines just clash big time and level 5 just never figured out how to organize it properly.

i really really hope we get a season 2 of the anime because lord knows what i would give to know the canon dynamic of the family and if they really did argue/have conflicts. they are such a perfect fit for a "functional" dysfunctional family and i think it would be REALLY sicknasty for it to be one of layton's flaws to be a kind of crap father despite how great of a man he is. it humanizes them in a way i love sm i have so many ideas i want to draw . okay ramble over sorry to anyone who had to scroll this far ty though pray emoji

hi heres another interest.uhhh layto n siblings arguing about who deserves the layton name . ft an adultish design of flora

[eph-em-era]

is it bad writing or are you just sad?

I see a lot of people talking about this episode being bad writing, which it isn't. You are sad and you're angry and you're using the tag of 'bad writing' because you didn't want it to happen. Let's talk.

buck and eddie reunion happened off screen - Yeah. Don't I wish I also saw that? absolutely. does it make logical sense with a) filming budgets, time and episode space and b) the arc of the episode? Yeah. It does. This is an episode about Athena. It's an episode about her dealing with the loss, which is why we get a ton more from her and a ton less from everyone else. the madney and bathena moments were tiny too.

to include a buck and eddie airport scene you have to

get location permission for an airport, and aviation spaces often include more specific permissions than other spaces

get extras for the scene

get security

block out time in the schedule for that filming with your actors

pay for all of those things

aside from those complexities - a scene like that almost certainly would have been cut for time, as they have FORTY TWO MINUTES for an unrelated plot which is why they didn't shoot it

the b-plot - I see a lot of people talking about this b-plot as being something emergency-related just shoved in, or 'mocking the fans'. it's a LIKE STORY. 9-1-1 does them all the dang time, grouping similar stories together on screen. this b-plot was about athena learning to recognise that bobby was actually dead, that even if things seem unfair and seem like they shouldn't have happened, sometimes people just die and it's awful and it makes no sense but they do; alongside having space and compassion for death even many years after the fact.

also, the woman in the b-plot was being held! they were being compassionate to her! they weren't treating her like she was crazy, they were being deeply kind in a moment of terrible tragedy. they weren't mocking her grief.

buck isn't sad enough - you have seen two days two weeks after bobby died. grief is not quantifiable and everyone does it differently. if you do not think that buck's not holding that grief right down at the moment - you could see it in his face at the funeral - you're kidding yourself if you think this is the end of it. athena is coping in her way, eddie in his, hen in hers, chim in his. this is how buck is coping.

they should have started this episode the moment after the last one finished - that's terrible television writing, no they shouldn't have. having people constantly talk AT each other might be useful for fandom, but makes no sense on screen. you need to show these emotions rather than have conversations about emotions, and they absolutely did

eddie should have been there earlier - eddie diaz needed a reason to come home, to break free from the living life day by day that was him living with chris in el paso. he needs to reach out and actively fight for himself now. now that bobby is gone, he feels guilt that he wasn't there, and he's going to spend more time reaching for the things he wants

realism/creative decisions - you read the phrase "real stakes" and took "realism" from it. they're two entirely different things. the show has settled into an isolated system. a death, after eight years, is a very creative decision, actually, because it pulls us free from the entropy. now, we're scared. now the characters are scared. it feels more fleeting, and people are more likely to take risks, to live, to reach for the things they want. why after eight years? cause now you care.

the leaked script - it was april fools day and you were coping. i think doing that thing after doing so much genuine empathy and tragedy would have absolutely cheapened the death

bobby buried in minnesota - his family died not even a decade ago. if you think he would have preferred to have been buried in an LA plot, with no-one that he knows, i think you're kidding yourself

bobby should have been on screen more - he's dead. i'm sorry, but he's dead. the scenes we saw of him? they were of a worthy man, one clearly well loved and important. a man with good principles and a good heart. but he is dead. the story has moved to focus more for those who are living.

the actors were laughing and having fun on set - because they're actors and this is a tv show

I am sad too! I am genuinely sad too! i think this was a beautiful episode and did truly as much as it could with a grief storyline, honoring those who were living as well as the one who has gone. i don't doubt it will continue to do so throughout the rest of the show. bobby is dead. there's no takebacks. it is not bad writing, you are just hollowed out by grief.

this is television. they have 42 minutes to tell a story. you set your expectations for canon based on the bounty we have in fanon, and that will NEVER be possible to achieve.

[ellswritings]

Tricky Situations

Cody Rhodes/Runnels x Reader

TW: Lots of fluff, bad language, no smut but mentions of sexual actions, sexual tension, idiots in love. This is based on a request made my the wonderful and amazing @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling, so I hope you all love it <3

Word Count: 12.02K

Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling

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Cody Rhodes and Y/N L/N were the definition of platonic soulmates. They were the perfect mold for anyone to model their friendship after. Their camaraderie was the stuff of legend, both on and off the screen. Fans adored their playful banter during interviews, their synchronized moves in the ring, and the genuine affection that radiated between them. They were the dynamic duo, the unbeatable team, the best friends who had each other's backs no matter what.

Backstage it was no different, they were inseparable. Whether it was grabbing coffee before a show, rehearsing promos, hanging out in the locker room, or watching movies all night in their shared hotel room. Y/N and Cody were always together. It was rare that anyone would ever catch one without the other.

In the beginning, they raised a lot of eyebrows. There was a lot of speculation of them being in a relationship due to how often they were seen together, but those rumors were quickly put to rest. While many fans still “shipped” the together, everyone knew their relationship would remain friendly as it always had been.

In interviews there were always questions about certain moments in Kayfabe or even about photos taken of them outside of the ring that questioned their friendship. But their answers were always the same.

“Ew, he’s like my brother.”

“Absolutely not. She’s my best friend.”

“I’d probably throw up if he tried to kiss me, honestly.”

“She snores when she sleeps, I don’t think I could spend the rest of my life living with that torture.”

The responses were always playful, filled with banter like every conversation they had. They would slap each other or shove each other if they chose to be a little extra sensitive, but it was all in good nature.

Still though, no matter how many times they said things between them were completely platonic, the edits, memes, conspiracy theories, and social media posts never faded.

It didn’t bother them though. The only people who needed to know the true nature of their relationship was them, and they were content with that. They still went about their life as usual. Traveling to venues together, doing interviews, grabbing dinner, walking Pharaoh, even training new students at the Nightmare Factory.

Everything was great. Until Paul Levesque decided he wanted Cody and Y/S/N to do a promo with Rhea Ripley and Dominik Mysterio. Rhea and Y/S/N had a rivalry going on and it was good for the storyline to have Cody and Dom by their sides as support, which would eventually lead to a mixed tag match.

It was always hard to keep a straight face when arguing on screen with Rhea as Y/N and Demi actually had a really strong friendship backstage. So they had to constantly think of negative things to remain in character. It helped having Cody out there as seeing him be “The American Nightmare” rather than Cody Runnels kept her in check.

The promo itself was going well. The audience was completely entranced by the words and shots being taken. Dominik didn’t get much out before being booed which lead perfectly to Cody chiming in sarcastically before Rhea jumped in to defend her man. They played off each other nicely. The difference in their dynamics kept everyone hooked.

Then came the portion where Rhea had to take a cheap shot at Y/S/N. She was ready to take her bump, Cody shifting slightly so he wouldn’t be in the way. But Y/N felt something was wrong as Rhea went to give her a big boot. Y/N went to sell the hell out of it, the bottom of her boot connecting to the side of her face. She throws herself backwards, but instead of meeting the mat below her, she collides with a broad chest that definitely was not supposed to be there.

Y/N groans as she hears Cody cough beneath her. They landed in a heap of tangled limbs. Both of them try to get to their feet as fast as possible, knowing this fall wasn’t scripted, but things only worsened as they moved.

Y/N tries to stand the same time Cody tries to roll over which somehow ends with Y/N straddling Cody, his hands on her waist in the middle of the ring.

Her face flushes as whistles erupt throughout the audience. She glances down at Cody who looks stoic on the outside but she can see the panic behind his ice blue eyes.

“You gonna get up, Y/N/N?” He whispers through tight-lips so only she can hear.

Y/N snaps out of her daze, “Right, sorry.”

Y/N scrambles back up to her feet, doing her best to remain in character as she helps Cody up. Unfortunately the damage was already done. The arena was buzzing with giggling fans, future rumors, and the snapping of cameras.

Michael Cole and Pat McAfee let out the most natural laughs they could, making some sort of joke to try and distract everyone from the scene, and while it was appreciated, it definitely didn’t work. Y/N and Cody went to walk backstage and out of muscle memory, he went to put his hand on her lower back to guide her, but as soon as they heard the whistles from the crowd he retracted his touch. They both share the same anxious look before completely disappearing into the back.

Turns out their coworkers are even more immature than the fans. Everyone they walked past made a comment about it, whether it was subtle or not depended on the person. Y/N rolled her eyes particularly hard when walking by Logan Paul who let out an obnoxious whistle.

“Damn, Cody! You are one lucky S.O.B.” He pats his back before looking Y/N up and down and continuing on his way.

Y/N clenches her fist in anger and she turns to give the Maverick a piece of her mind. Just as she’s about to pounce, Cody places his hands on her waist gently. She turns to him, an incredulous look on her face as she can’t believe he’s stopping her.

He shakes his head, “He’s not worth whatever witty thing you’re about to say,” he tells her with his signature half smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he’s no doubt feeling the same embarrassment she is. “Don’t waste it on him. C’mon…” he pulls her along with him, “Let’s go get you some fruit from catering.”

Just hearing him speak managed to cool her rising anger. She melted into his touch, allowing him to guide her back to catering. He somehow always knows exactly what to say to fix everything. It only made it better when he grabbed them a plate to share, managing to remember every single one of her favorite fruits. Thankfully, no one else said anything along the way about the incident in the ring. It’s times like this where Y/N is so grateful to have a best friend like Cody.

But things felt a bit off once they sat down. Anytime they made eye contact, both of them would immediately look away, like they had been caught doing something bad. Or their faces would heat up from the prolonged glances. They both chalked it up to being embarrassed by what happened, but something definitely changed in the air that surrounded their friendship.

They just didn’t know what yet.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

From that day on, Cody and Y/N found themselves getting into very similar situations. No matter where they went, the tension between them seemed to grow. Their conversations seemed much more charged than usual, the glances they shared seemed to last a bit longer, touches linger for longer than they should, even something as simple as watching movies together in the hotel room suddenly became a bit more intense than usual.

Y/N groaned irritatedly as the pen she was using to sign autographed pictures of herself ran out of ink. She managed to get ready quicker than usual so she scrambled over to get these signatures done. She had been slacking in doing them recently and she felt terrible. She would be nowhere without her fans so the least she could do is get these autographs done.

However, it becomes a slight challenge as she chucks the dead pen in the garbage can in the corner of the room before walking out. She remembers one of the grips told her that there was a supply closet around the corner if she needed anything so she headed that way.

Well, she tried to.

A small ‘umph’ leaves her as she collides into a solid chest. Her eyes travel upwards, apology locked and loaded for not watching where she was going, until her irises locked with a familiar pair of icy blue ones.

“Hey, Y/N/N…” Cody greets with a smile. “What are you doing? Don’t you have a match?”

Y/N visibly relaxes, glad she doesn’t have to profusely apologize for being a klutz as Cody is already well aware of the fact. She quirks a playful brow, “Yeah, in like an hour,” she laughs. “Damn with the way you said that you’d think I was a slacker or something.”

Cody’s eyes widen, “No– No, that’s not what I meant. I just didn’t know if you needed to go and run over some bumps or–”

Y/N pokes his chest playfully, “Relax. I’m kidding,” she gestures for him to follow after her as she continues down the hallway. “But no, Gionna and I are good. We were at it for like six hours yesterday. I’m just signing autographs right now since I got the time, but my pen died, so I’m just grabbing a new one.”

“Always working, aren’t you?” He nudges her shoulder with his, making her stumble into the wall.

She sends a teasing glare, “Well one of us has to,” she fires sassily before opening the door to the supply closet and walking in, Cody following closely behind.

“Are you implying I don’t work?” He crosses his arms over his chest as he starts helping her go through the plethora of boxes to find one with pens.

“What? No,” she scoffs teasingly. “I would never say such a thing.”

“And this is why you could never play a convincing heel,” he smirks back at her, grabbing a box from a higher shelf. “You can’t lie for shit.”

Y/N’s scoffs loudly, whipping her head around, “For your information–”

She’s suddenly cut off by one of the many boxes filled with heavy items start falling from high above. Cody notices, grabbing Y/N’s shoulders protectively before pulling her into his chest. The two of them collide with the door they left slightly ajar. The door slams shut with a small click as the box hits the floor with a loud thud.

Cody and Y/N stand there breathlessly, Y/N leaning onto Cody’s chest as he keeps his hands firm on her hips. The two of them look down at the spilled contents all over the floor and begin laughing.

“Well… found your pens,” he says cheekily.

Y/N rolls her eyes, but nonetheless bends over to pick one up. “Would’ve been more helpful if I didn’t have to almost die to get them.”

“Luckily for both of us you didn’t,” he says endearingly. He’s always loved how overdramatic she can get. He turns to grab the door handle, “Now let’s get outta here so you can finish signing–”

The door handle won’t budge.

Y/N lifts an eyebrow, “Need a hand, Runnels?”

He jiggles the handle roughly, “It won’t open.”

“What?”

“The door,” Cody pulls a bit harder, “It won’t open.”

Y/N tries to move around his large frame, but with the space being so crammed it’s a tight fit. She manages to wiggle in front of him, looking down at the door handle. She tries to open it herself which makes Cody exhale rather loudly.

“Wow, wish I would’ve thought of that,” he quips sassily.

Y/N looks over her shoulder, sending a glare his way. “I was just trying to see.”

“I said it won’t open, how is you doing the exact same thing I did gonna help?”

“I don’t know!” Y/N exclaims, growing more frustrated with their situation. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Is there a lock on it or something?” He asks, trying to see through the darkness.

Y/N bends down a little bit, not aware of how hard she’s pressing into Cody. Not that they can go anywhere or put much distance between them. So the man simply inhales sharply but says nothing. “It looks like it’s manually locked by a key,” she reveals, running a hand over her face. “Which means we’re stuck until one of the maintenance workers can come open it.”

“You don’t have your phone on you to call someone?” Cody asks her, noticing the growing heat in the small closet. When the door was open it seemed much bigger, enough to fit both of them. But now it feels if either of them were to take a breath that it might make them suffocate.

“No,” Y/N sighs frustratedly. “I left it in the other room.” She turns, narrowing her eyes at him, “Where’s your phone?” She asks in an almost accusatory tone.

Cody shrugs, “In my locker. I was going over my promo in hair and makeup so I put it away, that way I wouldn’t get distracted.”

“Convenient…” she mumbles, glancing around to try and find something to open the door.

“Why are you mad at me?” Cody furrows his eyebrows. “It’s not my fault.”

Y/N huffs, realizing her snippiness shouldn’t be directed at him. She turns around without thinking, her face suddenly impossibly close to his. Her chest presses against his mid-section, his ice blue eyes boring into hers. Her breath hitches when she realizes that their noses are practically touching. She swallows the butterflies that appeared out of nowhere. Her mind feels overly fuzzy. She doesn’t understand what brought on the rush of nerves, but she doesn’t want to know.

“I’m not mad at you,” she finally utters, much quieter than she thought she was going to. “I’m just… trying to find a way out.”

Cody stares at her, feeling her chest rise and fall with each breath. His hand twitches at his side as the impulsive urge to place his hand on her waist fills his mind. He notices how her eyes flicker across his face, never travelling below his neck. It makes him wonder if it’s on purpose or if she naturally just possesses that high level of respect that forces her to maintain eye contact.

“Well, I’m not working against you Y/N/N,” Cody smiles softly at her. “I’m trying to help too, y’know…” he says teasingly.

Y/N rolls her eyes, but she can’t help smiling at him. “I know… ’m sorry for snapping at you,” she mumbles. “Just don’t wanna be stuck in here for longer than we have to.”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you two heads are better than one?”

“It shouldn’t take two heads to unlock a door,” Y/N fires back sassily.

“Then I guess that makes us special, huh?” He grins goofily and Y/N wishes she could pretend to be annoyed, but she can’t help herself when a soft chuckle escapes her lips.

“Just shut up and help me,” Y/N grumbles, forcing herself to look serious.

Cody throws his hands up in mock defense, “Okay, okay… so angry.”

The two of them glance around the small space, trying to find anything that might serve as some sort of assistance. Unfortunately, everything in the small storage closet doesn’t fit the criteria for their circumstances.

“There’s seriously no safety pins in here?” Y/N asks aloud, squinting her eyes to read some of the labels on the cardboard.

Cody’s brows furrow “What would you do with a safety pin?”

Y/N doesn’t look back at him, answering matter-of-factly, “Pick the lock, obviously.”

“How do you know how to pick a lock?” He stares at his best friend with an expression that definitely surpasses shock.

Y/N pauses, finally looking back at him, his body still behind hers. “Do you really want to know the answer to that question?” She asks.

“Yeah, kinda,” Cody nods with a scoff, his face still scrunched with confusion.

Y/N remains silent for a moment, “Before Good left for AEW, we had a couple of… interesting experiences together.”

“What does that even mean?” Cody interrogates. He shifts slightly, accidentally brushing Y/N’s backside with the movement. If she noticed, she doesn’t say anything, still messing with the door handle in front of her.

Y/N sighs, yanking the handle with a bit more force than necessary. “We were drunk at an after party for one of the PLE’s like five years ago and we got locked out on the roof. Neither of us could call anyone so he asked me if I had a safety pin. I had one on my skirt ‘cause it was too big and long story short, he showed me how to pick a lock.”

“Why have I never heard this story?” He asks with a frown. He knows he shouldn’t be jealous. Y/N’s always been friendly, she’s got a good rapport with pretty much everyone in the locker room. Plus, she worked closely with The Shield during their prime, so it only makes sense that she had a good relationship with Jonathan Good. The logic didn’t help soothe the uncomfortable burning in his chest at the thought of her being close like this with someone else.

She shrugs, “Never came up. Well… until now at least.”

Cody forced his mind to stay on the situation at hand. He reaches around her, trying to grab the door handle, “Here, let me try something.”

Y/N unintentionally stiffens as Cody’s arms wrap around her. She can feel his chin practically resting on her shoulder, his breath fanning her neck lightly. Her pulse quickens as his body heat becomes almost unbearable. It’s not like he hasn’t had his arms around her before, but this feels different. Maybe it’s just her who feels it, but she can’t ignore the surge of pure electricity coursing through her just by his presence. Ever since that day when she took the botched bump, small moments like this have become harder to view as friendly.

Her hands are pressed against the door in front of her to keep her upright as Cody methodically fiddles with the handle. She doesn’t know if he’s aware of how hard he’s pushing her forward, but it’s not of importance.

“You all right?” Cody asks worriedly, much too close to her ear. Chills run down her spine as she tries to come up with a coherent sentence. He felt her tense up the moment he moved closer to her so he wanted to check in. He didn’t realize the reason she’s unable to speak or even think properly is because of him.

“Uh– yeah, yeah I’m good. It’s just getting kinda warm in here,” Y/N replies, her throat bobbing as she swallows harshly.

Cody glances at her arms, “You sure you’re warm? You’ve got goosebumps.”

The way he meant it was completely innocent but the tone in his voice made Y/N inhale sharply, eyes closing as she repeatedly reminds herself that this man is like a brother to her. Though it seems the more she says it the less convinced she actually is.

“Nope,” she says stiffly. “Definitely hot. Super warm.”

Cody uses one of his hands, curling his arm to place it on her cheek in a delicate manner. It’s something he had done millions of times when she was feeling ill as a way to check her temperature. Feeling his hand on her skin simply makes her burn up even more. Her heart rate is beating so loud she’s more than ninety percent sure he could hear it. Yet his face remains unaffected, the emotion of concern being the only thing he’s letting show. Y/N finds herself leaning into him, their bodies pushed even closer together. His lips are still impossibly close to her neck due to their awkward stance. One slight shift in footing and he’d kissing the sensitive area.

“You do feel a little warm,” Cody voices, his bright blue eyes scanning over her. He notices the irregular way her chest rises and falls with every breath. Her eyes seem unnaturally hooded and her lips are parted slightly. He wonders what could possibly be going on with her to warrant this shift in behavior. She was her normal self just mere moments ago. “Have you been feeling sick?”

Sick isn’t the word to currently describe how she’s feeling.

“No,” Y/N tells him, trying to muster up her most unbothered smile, but judging by the skeptical look on Cody’s face, she didn’t do a very good job. “I’m feeling okay. Maybe I’m just getting claustrophobic or something.”

That’s when his focus is completely taken away from the door. The hand that was on her cheek drifts down to her neck to see if her raised temperature is even everywhere while his other hand grips onto her hip. Y/N exhales, her eyes fully closing as the sensations become much too overwhelming. She doesn’t understand why she’s feeling this way. Cody pauses for a second too long, silently hoping Y/N doesn’t notice. He feels the way her body relaxes into him. He fights the urge to squeeze the fat of her hip, reminding himself that this is Y/N. His best friend Y/N. But the tantalizing smell of coconut, eucalyptus, and oak fogs his mind for a brief moment. But that brief moment is all it takes. He finds himself leaning forward, his lips just barely hovering above the sweet spot behind her ear. He swears he can hear a small whimper leave her, but ultimately chalks it up to his imagination.

Just as it seems they’re about to forgo any personal boundaries, the two of them are launched forward and tumble to the floor with a loud thud. The two of them groan in different pitches as they realize someone had finally opened the door from the outside. “I told you I heard someone in there,” the familiar voice of Kevin Steen catches their attention.

Y/N forces herself to hide her flustered state by avoiding any and all eye contact with Cody. However, it’s very difficult as the man can’t seem to stop staring at her, despite the fact they had just been caught in a closet together, a bit too close for a reasonable explanation.

“I never said you were wrong,” Randy Orton shrugs. “Just said I didn’t hear anything and would laugh if we opened it and it was empty.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” Kevin says triumphantly. “And we just saved their lives,” he glances at the two best friends who are now slowly getting up from the floor. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“Yeah, thanks…” Y/N says gratefully, still trying to avoid staring at Cody so it comes off a bit more awkward than she intended.

“What were you guys even doing in there anyway?” Randy questions, arms folded over his chest somehow making him appear even bigger than he already is.

That’s when it happens. Y/N and Cody look at each other, both of their mouths open slightly as they try to find something to say. They didn’t do anything wrong, yet it felt like they were being caught doing something inappropriate by one of their parents. It didn’t make sense. Why did it feel like a lie if they were to say their original plan was to look for pens and they ended up getting locked in there? That truly was what happened, but by the way she can still feel a buzz on her cheek where his hand used to be, it felt dishonest to minimize the impact that tiny closet had.

“She was signing autographs and her pen died,” Cody finally answered for the both of them. But even though he was answering Randy, his eyes continuously flickered over to the woman next to him. “So we tried to find one and ended up getting locked in.”

Y/N was grateful he was able to say that and appear as though he believed it. She isn’t sure she could’ve gotten through it without looking absolutely guilty of something she didn’t even do.

“And neither of you bothered to call for help?” Kevin asks with a small chuckle. “You guys do know cellphones are a thing now, right?”

“Neither of us had ours,” Y/N speaks up, the steadiness in her voice surprising her. “I left mine in the signing room and Cody’s is in his locker.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Randy shakes his head before patting Y/N’s back with a fond grin. “You two always seem to be the ones getting stuck in situations like this.”

“Believe me, we’re not purposefully going out of our way to get stuck in closets,” Y/N replies with a lighthearted laugh, the tension from Cody’s touch slowly easing out of her shoulders. “I guess it’s just a best friend curse or something,” she glances over at Cody.

“I don’t know about that,” Kevin teases, bumping Cody’s shoulder as the five of them begin heading down the hallway to finish prepping for their long night. “Randy and I have never been caught in a closet like that. You two looked pretty snug.”

“Shut up,” Y/N scoffs with an eye roll. “Where else could we have gone? Up on the shelves? Wasn’t exactly a lot of room in there.”

Cody remains silent as the three people next to him continue to joke around. He doesn’t know why he can’t bring himself to chime in, but every time he looks at Y/N he can feel his hands become clammy and a feverous chill pass through him. The way she’s smiling as Randy keeps his arm securely around her shoulders, and the way she playfully pushes Kevin away as he continues to berate them for the questionable circumstances she cand Cody continue to end up in. It makes him furrow his brows as he tries to figure out where these sudden changes in his feelings are coming from. All he can decipher is that he may have enjoyed being pressed up against her a bit too much when they were stuck in that closet.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

Things had seemed to calm down slightly over the next week or so. While memes and rumors still circulated about the nature of Cody and Y/N’s friendship, they hadn’t done anything more to incriminate themselves. The supply closet incident thankfully stayed between them, Randy, and Kevin, so there was no more ammunition for people to continue using.

… Until now.

One early morning in Cody’s hometown of Atlanta Georgia, he had invited Y/N to stay with him for the week so he could show her around. SmackDown was going to be there that Friday so he figured they could spend a few days before just hanging out before the show. It wasn’t the first time she had stayed with him, but it had definitely been a while. He had gotten her up early Thursday morning and forced her to go to the gym at the Nightmare Factory. She protested, wanting to sleep in, but he wouldn’t allow it. Said she’d feel better if they got their workout out of the way first so they could have the rest of the day to themselves.

She hated it, but she knew he was right. She’d despise herself more if they waited until later. So she begrudgingly forced herself out of the comfortable bed in his spare bedroom and went with him to the gym.

Y/N enjoyed working out at the private gym at Cody’s training facility. It once belonged to his dad, but it was passed down to him after Dusty passed. That was a hard time for everyone, especially considering the amount of time Y/N spent with the Runnels family.

Things had been going well. It was a chest and shoulders day, so they went through their usual workouts, doing their separate weights and stretches until they met up to spot each other at the bench press. Cody went first, smirking as he slid more plates on the bar. Y/N rolled her eyes at his cockiness but nonetheless kept herself ready just in case his muscles weren’t strong enough for his ego.

Then it was her turn. She got into position, adding more weight than she normally does. It’s that time of the year where she bulks before doing a huge cut so she’s pushing herself to lift more than usual. Cody raises an eyebrow but says nothing, knowing better than to question the strength of his best friend.

But he quickly realizes that maybe he should have. Y/N is fine for the first three reps, until he notices the smallest quiver in her arms as she goes to press up for the fourth time. He watches as her back begins to lift off the bench and he moves to help her rack the bar before she hurts herself.

Unfortunately, right as he goes to grab the bar, she pushes up at the exact same time which makes him lose his balance.

“Shit,” Cody yelps as he uses his unnatural reflexes to toss the bar to the floor before it could crush Y/N. Unfortunately it wasn’t fast enough to stop his frame from toppling forward with the momentum and crashing on top of her on the bench.

Y/N lets out a loud grunt as she’s crushed by her best friend. It takes her a moment to realize the precarious position they now find themselves in. She freezes as her eyes settle directly on Cody’s crotch which is definitely too close to her face for comfort. She can feel him tense on top of her as he comes to terms with how close his own mouth is to her lower extremities.

Neither of them move. If anyone were to walk in or look on from the many windows, all of the times they denied being just friends would no longer matter. No one would believe them if they were caught like this. But for some reason they stay like that. Breathing heavily as they sit in the electrified silence.

If Y/N were to listen to her intrusive thoughts, she would have leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the slight bulge in his sweatpants, but thankfully she has some sense of self control.

Cody swallows roughly, not able to look away from where his eyeline is currently lined up. He could easily slide his fingers up through her spandex. He mentally scolds himself for thinking that about her, but the thought in itself is enough to make his face flush red.

He finally snaps out of his trance, rolling off of her and onto the floor. Y/N keeps her eyes on the ceiling for a split second longer before finally sitting up and looking at Cody. They both were at a loss for words as they tried to figure out what to say to each other after what just happened.

Cody’s the first one to finally speak up, “Are you okay?”

Y/N nods slowly, “Yeah… Are you?”

“Yeah,” he replies.

Y/N can feel her neck heating up as her mind continues replaying the incident that just unfolded. Her eyes flicker down to his lips, biting the inside of her cheek trying to find a way to control herself. She finally finds the right words to say to try and move them forward. “Wanna go get breakfast?”

Cody stares at her blankly until an amused laugh leaves his lips. He shakes his head, pushing himself up off the floor before sticking his hand out to her. “Yeah, let’s get out of here before you try to kill me again.”

“You fell on top of me!” She exclaims playfully, taking his palm in hers as they walk out of the gym and to his car.

The two of them playfully bicker, things falling back into a natural rhythm as they try to forget the heated exchange that happened at the gym. Cody brought her to his favorite bagel place, the two of them enjoying their protein bagels in peace. Until Y/N’s phone begins blowing up. Her brows furrow as she sees Savelina’s name pop up. Cody takes a bite of his food before nodding his head, silently telling her to take the call.

Y/N does, “Hey, Lina. What’s up?”

“Please tell me you’ve checked at least one of your social media accounts in the last thirty minutes,” the woman rushes out, her voice containing an edge of panic.

“No…” Y/N trails off, sharing a worried look with Cody. “Why, what’s going on?”

“Is Cody with you?”

“Yeah…” Y/N trails off with a nervous chuckle. “You’re scaring me, Lina. What’s going on?”

“Here, I’ll send it to you,” she answers.

Y/N takes her phone away from her ear to check her text messages. When she opens their thread, her eyes practically pop out of her head. “Holy shit!”

Cody jumps from the sudden raise in her voice. There’s a tad bit of cream cheese on the corner of his mouth which makes her want to giggle but her mind is still focused on the photo Savelina just sent her. Y/N puts her on speaker so Cody can hear. “That wasn’t even an hour ago,” Y/N says exasperatedly.

“Yeah, I guess a fan was walking past at the wrong time and snapped the photo.”

Cody looks at his best friend, “What photo?”

Y/n sighs before pulling up the picture again and shows it to Cody’s who’s face mimicked her own expression from moments ago. “Shit…” he mumbles.

“You guys are trending number one on X right now,” Sav warns them. “So I would lay low for the next few days if I were you. I’m sure one of you will be getting a call from someone soon.”

Y/N exhales frustratedly, running a hand over her face. Not even three seconds later, Cody’s phone begins to buzz. Both of them tense as they watch Paul Levesque’s name pop up. Y/N hits her head on the dash compartment before speaking again, “Thanks for the warning, Lina.”

“Yeah, good luck guys.” The woman says sympathetically before hanging up.

Cody begrudgingly answers Paul’s call, putting him on speaker. Both of the best friends prepare themselves to get yelled at by their boss. “Hey Paul,” Cody says with a sigh.

“I’m assuming you’ve seen the photo,” Paul says, not angry or disappointed, maybe even slightly amused.

“Just now, yeah,” Cody answers, his hand running over his jaw.

“Is Y/N still with you?”

“Hey Paul…” Y/N greets awkwardly.

“Yeah, I figured,” he says. They hear papers shuffling on his end of the line which indicates that he’s probably already at the arena. “I need you guys to come in a bit earlier so we can do some… damage control on this whole situation before it gets blown out of proportion.”

“All right,” Cody agrees. “We’ll be there.”

“Perfect. See you in a few.”

As soon as Paul hung up the phone, the first thing that came out of either of them was one simple statement.

“We’re fucked.”

By the time they showered, got dressed, and drove over to the arena, an hour had passed. No other talent was there yet and they were specifically instructed by the execs to avoid getting on social media today at all costs so they’ve been actively avoiding their phones.

They had gotten calls from pretty much everyone on the roster and from their families asking what is actually going on. After the fifth or sixth time of telling the story, they both wanted to just send a massive group text to everyone in order to prevent themselves from going insane.

Cody could feel Y/N’s nerves as they walked through the halls to go find Paul. She wrings her hands together, not even realizing she’s doing it. He noticed it was a habit she had when she was anxious. Without putting much thought into it, he reaches over and grabs her left hand with his right. They both flinch from the sudden shock wave that’s sent through them. Y/N’s arm buzzes from the sensation, but she can’t help lacing her fingers through his.

They fit together like a puzzle piece.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he tells her with a nod. She looks in his eyes and he really isn’t just saying that to make her feel better. He actually believes it, and his confidence is enough to make her believe it too. “Nothing bad’s gonna happen. We’ve been through worse.”

Y/N laughs but it lacks the humor it usually has, “I don’t know about that,” she says.

“We have,” Cody insists as they continue walking. “Remember two years ago when you broke your collarbone and we didn’t know how long it would be til you could come back?” He brings up the incident, a brief flash of pain crossing his face as he remembers the tumultuous time. “That to me was definitely worse than this.”

Y/N huffs, “Okay, maybe I am being a bit dramatic, but this is serious. I don’t want this to affect our careers and the business. And I really don’t want people thinking we’ve been dating this whole time and lying about it.”

“Would it really be so bad if we were?” He says out of nowhere, almost like it was an afterthought.

Y/N stops just outside of Paul’s office, her head snapping towards Cody. “What?” She asks incredulously.

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t be that bad if people assumed we had been dating this whole time,” he defends. “We do spend a lot of time together. It’s not completely out of the blue.” He takes note of the shock on Y/N’s face. “Unless you’d be embarrassed to say you were with me.”

Y/N blinks, “I never said that,” she scoffs. “I wouldn’t be embarrassed, I’m just saying I don’t want either of our careers to be focused on a relationship,” she explains. “We’ve both seen what happens when two superstars start dating. They get linked to each other and it’s almost impossible to be separated afterwards. And I don’t wanna make it a gender thing, but it’s a lot easier for the guy in the situation to not be reduced to a piece of eye candy.”

Cody sighs knowing she’s right. Y/N has put her heart and soul into her career and he would hate himself if she became tethered to him over this rumor. He didn’t know why he brought up the fact they could pretend they’d been together, but the more time that goes on, the more he realizes he wouldn’t mind calling her more than his best friend.

“I don’t want you to think I’d ever be ashamed or embarrassed to say that I was with you,” Y/N says softly, almost like she read his mind. “You’re my best friend and a great guy. I just don’t want to be a show girl that accompanies you out to your matches and then I get none of my own.”

Cody’s half grin finally shows, his dimple poking out, “You’re too badass for that. They couldn’t make you just a show girl even if they tried.” He rubs his thumb on the back of her hand, “If anything I’d be out there as your piece of ass.”

Y/N and him both share an intimate chuckle, “Okay mister quarterback of the company,” she teases as their eyes meet at the same time.

“A quarterback is nothing without their left tackle,” he says, his voice lowering as his eyes flicker to her lips briefly. Y/N feels her heart begin to race, wondering if she imagined his quick glance.

Suddenly his head ducks down closer to her face, their noses only inches apart. Y/N does her best to try and diffuse whatever tension is bubbling between them, “I don’t know anything about football…” she mumbles humorously, “so I’m starting to regret my reference.”

Cody laughs, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, “It just means I wouldn’t be successful without you,” he explains.

Y/N is no longer in control of what her body does. She finds herself leaning forward towards him as well. If either of them budged even the slightest, that photo would make them look even more incriminating. Now they would actually be guilty of lying about their relationship.

“You’d be fine without me…” she mumbles, her breath fanning his face.

“I wouldn’t want to be.”

Just as he says that, Y/N reaches up to loop her arms around his neck. Both of them are clearly running on autopilot as the heat of the moment seems to fog their brains and distract them from why they’re even at the stadium this early.

That is until they’re reminded.

“There you two are,” Paul’s voice rings out as he opens up the door to his office. Cody and Y/N jump apart, thanking their lucky stars that Paul’s face is buried in a folder with papers in complete disarray. It gives them enough time to look like they weren’t about to make out in the middle of the hallway. Cody and Y/N share a look, both of their faces burning up from whatever just occurred between them. Paul glances between them when neither of them make a move, “You guys gonna come in?”

Y/N’s the first to snap out of her trance, “Uh, yeah. Sorry,” she apologizes before following Paul into his office, Cody trailing in closely behind. “Just a little thrown off by everything going on,” she explains.

“Yeah, that’s why we wanted you guys to stay away from the internet for right now,” Paul rattles off, gesturing for them to sit down as he puts away whatever paperwork he was working on. “Things get crazy when stuff like this happens.” He finally takes a seat behind his desk, putting his whole attention on the two adults across from him. They might be considered adults by age, but by the way Paul is looking at them, anyone would think they were getting called to the principal's office.

“Listen, I’m not gonna beat around the bush, I respect you both too much to do that. I need you both to understand the severity of the situation. This incident alone might just break the internet,” Paul reveals, folding his hands together. “People are speculating that you two have been together this whole time and have been lying about it. Normally it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but with both of you being the top two babyfaces in the company, lying doesn’t look good on you guys.”

Y/N sighs, running a hand over her face once again, “Yeah, we figured that’s what was gonna happen.”

“Long story short, we don’t want it to affect how fans look at you guys,” Paul explains. “If we have people booing you for lying then it throws off the balance of all the stories we’re trying to create for you now and in the future.” He leans forward, “So I talked to a couple of the execs and writers and we think we’ve come up with a solution.”

Cody and Y/N remain silent but nod their heads, telling their boss they’re interested in what he’s come up with. If there’s any way Paul can fix this, they’re all ears. “We want you two to come out as a couple in Kayfabe.”

Silence.

Y/N’s mind buzzes with white noise. She should have expected this. It was a logical solution to their problem. But it doesn’t change the sudden wave of nerves that takes over her at the thought of being Cody’s girlfriend, even if it is just for storyline purposes. She voiced her concerns to him in the hallway about this exact situation. She didn’t want to become his sidekick that just supported him whenever he had a match.

“I can see a look of apprehension on your face,” Paul looks at Y/N with a fond smile. “What’s up?”

She looks at Cody for a moment before turning back to Paul, “I just don’t want us to be stuck in a romance trope for the next ten years,” she voices a little too bluntly. “No offense to them, but I don’t want this to turn into a Scarlett and Karrion situation where she’s only out there to support him. I want to continue fighting the same way I’ve been doing. I won’t be benched.”

Paul tilts his head endearingly, “I wouldn’t dream of benching you, Y/N. I wouldn’t do that to either of you. This whole thing will just be a subplot to everything you both have going on,” he clarifies. “You both are frequently seen together in the ring anyway, so this just makes it a bit easier to explain. We can easily say that the photo and gym session was going to be exposed anyway to reveal your relationship in the storyline. It’ll line up perfectly for the business and won’t affect your lives outside of it.”

Cody couldn’t help but stare at her. She seems relieved at the situation being presented. He will admit that it is the best case scenario. Neither of them are in trouble and they found a solution to their problem. It’s panning out wonderfully. He just gets to spend more time with the woman he’s considered his best friend since the day they met.

But it doesn’t change the fact that he’s become much more attune to the small things that make Y/N, Y/N. Like the little dimple on her right cheek that is much deeper than the one on her left side. Or the little mischievous smirk she sports when she knows something someone else doesn’t. Or the way her voice speeds up when she’s excited to talk about something she loves. Even the little divot in between her eyebrows that appears when she’s angry or anxious about something.

Are these all things best friends take note of? Is this normal? To suddenly become obsessed with the way she tilts her head when mocking someone, leaning in close when he catches a whiff of her signature perfume. He doesn’t know when she managed to set up camp in his mind, but she’s been a resident there for the past few weeks, and he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to get her out.

Paul notices Cody’s eyes focused on the woman next to him and he can’t help but let a small smile show. He recognizes that look. It’s the same one he remembers sporting when he first realized he was in love with his boss's daughter. It’s clear they’re both not completely ready to admit how they feel, but maybe this storyline angle will push them in the right direction.

Paul clears his throat, swallowing any teasing remark he had locked and loaded to fire at Cody. The blonde man snaps out of his thoughts and turns back to Paul with a stiff nod. “Yeah, if you think it’s best for business, I don’t see why it would be a problem.”

Y/N agrees, “We can make it work. Whatever you give us, we’ll run with it and make sure even the people who know it’s fake believe it.”

Paul’s eyes flicker over to Cody with a smirk, pushing up his reading glasses as he goes to grab another stack of paper. “I’m sure you will… Now both of you get out of here. One of the on scene writers will bring you the new scripts for tonight.”

Y/N and Cody both thank their boss profusely before walking out of his office. It’s obvious Y/N is in much higher spirits walking out than she was walking in. “Well, that went better than I expected,” she says happily.

“Yeah, yeah it did.” Cody tries to reciprocate her excitement, but part of him feels like somewhere along this road something is going to happen that’s going to throw them all for a loop.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

The reveal went better than they could have imagined. Fans were thrilled to see two of their favorite wrestlers admit their feelings for each other on screen. The writers did an incredible job building the story and telling them why they kept it a secret for as long as they did. It was received very well.

It’s been about a month since the big reveal and things couldn’t have been better for Cody and Y/N. They’ve been spending much more time together, most of their promos and matches involving the other as moral support. They’ve even started a storyline with Seth trying to poach Y/N from Cody, wanting her talent to be used to support him.

Tonight is one of the many charity galas that they get the pleasure to attend. Cody and Y/N were put in coordinating outfits, making them seem even more cohesive as an on screen couple than they already were.

The event was in full swing, everyone mingling and sharing lovely conversations. The two of them never drift very far from the other and whenever they’re together, one of them is always touching the other. Whether it’s Y/N having a hand on his chest or Cody keeping his hand leisurely on her waist or the small of her back.

Sometimes it got hard to tell the difference between the storyline and reality. Some days it really felt like they were an actual couple. Y/N didn’t realize how much she’d actually enjoy pretending to be in a relationship with him. There wasn’t a huge change from their usual dynamic besides the extra touches and kisses shared on screen. But the air between them had definitely shifted and neither of them knew what to do with it just yet. So they kept pretending it wasn’t there.

“Dang they really got you guys out here doing the most,” Phil Brooks walks up to them with a small smirk on his lips as he looks between the two younger wrestlers. “Matching outfits and everything.”

Cody laughs, his arm still comfortably around Y/N’s waist, “Gotta keep the fans happy, y’know?”

He looks in between them, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I don’t know… you guys don’t seem too torn up about being attached at the hip,” he says teasingly.

Y/N chuckles, patting Cody’s chest with her freshly manicured nails, “It doesn’t feel much different than before,” she admits. “I’m sure he’ll piss me off eventually though.”

Cody smiles at her, “I’m sure I will too.”

Phil simply shakes his head with a knowing expression, “Careful,” he warns. “You guys keep looking at each other like that and people might start thinking this is more than just a storyline.”

And with that he walks away, leaving Cody and Y/N feeling slightly flustered though they don’t show it on the outside. They continue walking around the venue, trying the small treats here and there. Y/N grabs a mini cupcake she had noticed were Reese’s flavored before turning to Cody with a small grin. She holds the cupcake to his lips, knowing that Reese’s is his favorite candy.

Cody smiles, “Really?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Just eat it,” she huffs playfully.

Cody shakes his head but does as he’s told. He leans forward, eating the small delicacy from her hand. While he wishes he could focus on the explosion of flavor in his mouth, his focus only seems to be on her. How she’s staring at him like he’s the only other person in the room.

Her teeth sparkle underneath the lighting, “Was it good?”

“Yeah,” he replies, his mind in an otherworldly place. “Really good.”

Y/N notices the tiny bit of frosting that didn’t make it to his mouth, “Oh, you got a little something–” she reaches out, swiping it gently with her finger. Cody feels his body ignite with chills, their eyes meeting in such an intense way it makes him forget how to breathe.

Y/N pauses for a moment, her hand lingering near his face as they sit in the moment for a bit longer than necessary. Butterflies erupt in her stomach as Cody’s blue eyes bore into hers. He truly is the most handsome man she’s ever seen. Her mind runs on autopilot as she raises her finger to her mouth, sucking off the sugary icing. His eyes narrow as she does so, his pupils dilating. She smiles at him as if she wasn’t aware of the effect she just had.

“There,” Y/N says, her voice much quieter than before. “All better.”

Cody’s chest rises and falls with every bated breath as he tries to regain full control of his mind and mouth, “Thanks…”

“Of course,” she tilts her head, fixing his tie and smoothing over his suit. Her hands rest on his broad chest, loving the feeling of his muscles under her fingertips. “Can’t have my man walking around lookin’ like a mess, now can I?”

Her man.

That felt way too good and slipped off her tongue far too easily. He could get used to hearing that come from her. He’s tired of pretending like this little gimmick they have going on isn’t affecting their real relationship. It’s clear to anyone the different way they look at each other now. He would love to have her on his arm like this from here on out, but he has no idea how to approach that conversation.

“C’mon,” she nods over to a couple reporters who are asking questions to the talent. “We need to go do our interview.”

Before he has a chance to respond, her fingers are laced through his as she walks him over to one of the reporters. He’s not even sure he understood one word that came out of the journalist's mouth. The only time his hearing came back into focus was when Y/N was speaking. She would laugh, answer their question, and glance at Cody to see if he wanted to answer. They were on the fourth or fifth question by now, the American Nightmare not having uttered a word the entire time.

Y/N squeezes his bicep, “You okay?” She asks tentatively, knowing how overwhelmed he can get with press interviews at events like this. Her eyes shine with concern, silently telling him he can leave if he needs to take a breather.

It’s touching how well she knows him. He smiles, simply pulling her closer into him as he looks back at the interviewer. “Sorry, I swear, sometimes she walks into a room and I forget every word in the English language.” His compliment makes the woman questioning them coo. But there’s a deeper level under Cody’s words that steals the breath from Y/N’s lungs. It’s more than just for Kayfabe, but they can’t let anyone, including their colleagues know that. He glances back down at her, “She doesn’t even try, and somehow I’m standing here like I’ve never seen a beautiful woman before."

“Totally understandable,” the woman smiles. “She is definitely one of the most gorgeous women in the world. No one can blame you for getting caught up in that.”

Y/N feels herself becoming shy due to all the compliments being thrown her way, “Guys, you’re gonna inflate my ego…” she says, trying to make a joke out of it.

“Well, I only have one more question for you guys and you can go back to being WWE’s power couple for the night,” she looks down at her notepad. The interviewer leans forward, a knowing smile tugging at their lips. "So, you two have insane chemistry on screen — and let’s be honest, off screen too. Is there ever a moment you catch yourselves forgetting where the characters end and real life begins?"

Y/N lets out a soft laugh, playing it cool as she leans back in her chair. “I mean… that’s kind of the job, right? Sell the story, make people believe it.” She shoots Cody a quick sideways glance, teasing but guarded. “We’re just really good at our jobs.”

Cody’s smile twitches, like he’s holding back a laugh — or maybe something else. “Yeah,” he says slowly, thoughtful. “It’s… kind of funny, actually. Sometimes the line gets blurry. Not because we forget, but because it doesn’t always feel like we’re acting.”

Y/N blinks, her smirk faltering just for a second. The air between them tightens — barely noticeable to the camera, but tangible to anyone watching closely.

Cody doesn’t break eye contact. “We’ve known each other for years. That kind of bond doesn’t turn off just because the cameras are rolling. If anything, it makes the performances more honest.”

Y/N’s voice is quieter when she speaks next. “I guess when you trust someone that much, the feelings start to feel… real. Even if they’re not supposed to be.”

The interviewer raises a brow, sensing something. “So are you saying there are real feelings?”

Cody chuckles, looking down briefly, but his thumb taps anxiously against his knee. “I’m saying… there are moments where I look at her, and I forget the difference.”

Y/N’s breath catches, just for a second. Her smile returns, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes this time.

“Well, thank you both for your time,” the woman smiles at them. “I’m looking forward to hopefully interviewing you both in the near future.”

“Us too,” Cody nods respectfully before moving to guide Y/N away by her waist. “Thank you.”

The two of them slip away and travel back to the heat of the party. They smile at their friends, sending polite nods to the people they aren’t as close with. Cody leans down to whisper in her ear, his gorgeous smile still plastered on his face. “You really threw me under the bus with that ‘real feelings’ bit,” he says playfully.

Y/N shrugged, cocking a brow. “What can I say? The fans love blurred lines.”

“Blurred, huh?” He looked at her then, head slightly tilted, the corner of his mouth twitching like he knew something she didn’t.

She rolled her eyes, pretending she wasn’t already hyper-aware of the heat rolling off him in waves. “Relax, Runnels. I didn’t tell them about that time you cried during The Notebook.”

He scoffed, grabbing the door and holding it open. “Once. I cried once. And Rachel McAdams was very convincing.”

The room was still buzzing but much more lowkey than before — the usual mix of tired talent, sparkling water, and event food passed off as fine dining. Y/N weaved her way to the snack table and grabbed a chocolate-covered strawberry, eyeing Cody from over her shoulder as he joined her with two drinks in hand.

“What?” she asked around a mouthful of strawberry, juice slipping unexpectedly onto her chest just as she bit into it.

Cody blinked, his gaze shifting downward. “You, uh—” He pointed vaguely. “You got a little… right there.”

Y/N looked down, groaning when she spotted the spot of red on the silky material just above her neckline. “Ugh. Of course I did.”

Without thinking, Cody reached for a napkin and stepped closer. “Here, I got it.”

She froze when his hand gently dabbed the spot, the fabric dipping slightly under the weight of his touch. Her breath caught. So did his.

Neither of them spoke.

The space between them thinned to something taut, like a rope pulled too tight.

His hand hovered a beat too long before they were interrupted.

“Well damn,” came a drawl behind them. “This still a PG show?”

They turned sharply to see Demi Bennett sauntering toward them with a knowing smirk. Matthew Adams stood beside her, brow raised in amusement.

Cody took a sharp step back, napkin still in hand. “It’s not what it looked like.”

“Oh, no,” Rhea teased, eyes flicking between them. “It looked exactly like what it looked like.”

“It was strawberry juice,” Y/N added quickly, wiping at her dress herself now. “He was just helping.”

Buddy snorted. “Helping, huh? That what we’re calling second base now?”

Y/N’s mouth opened in protest, but Cody beat her to it.

“Alright,” he said, half-laughing, half-grimacing. “Noted. No touching near fruit.”

Rhea just winked. “Next time, try grapes. Less messy.”

As the couple walked off, Y/N avoided Cody’s eyes and instead fixed her gaze on her dress. “Well. That wasn’t mortifying at all.”

Cody rubbed the back of his neck. “Nope. Totally normal. Just a guy helping a friend clean juice off her—chest.”

The air crackled with everything neither of them said.

Y/N looked up at him, a teasing spark in her eyes. “So, uh… you always that hands-on when it comes to helping friends?”

Cody smirked, but his voice was quieter now. “Only the ones I don’t wanna just be friends with.”

Her heart skipped. “What?”

But he was already walking away, tossing his cup in the trash without looking back. “C’mon. Let’s head back before someone else tries to bet on us.”

She stood frozen for a beat longer than she should’ve, chest tight and lips twitching with something she wasn’t ready to name. But her feet followed him anyway — straight into the night, straight toward the conversation neither of them could avoid any longer.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

Once the party was over, everyone headed back to the hotel where they were staying for the weekend. Cody and Y/N bid their goodnights to their friends before traveling up to their shared room. They always shared rooms even before the whole dating fiasco, so that was nothing new.

What was slightly different was the way their hands never disconnected as they traveled back.

Cody slides his key into the mechanism of the door, a small click indicating it is now open. The two of them shuffle into the room, both letting out a relieved exhale at finally being able to lay down in a quiet space. The two full sized beds in the room are like heaven on earth for the two best friends.

Y/N falls face first into the mattress, not even bothering to try and take off her dress or shoes. Cody laughs at her dramatic behavior, loosening his tie before taking off his vest. “Yeah?”

Y/N simply grunts in response, the noise coming out muffled as her face is still buried in the comforter. Cody shakes his head, the smile never disappearing from his face. “Didn’t know spending an evening with me was so exhausting,” he teases, removing his long sleeve shirt, leaving his upper body and torso completely bare as he searches for his pajamas.

Y/N rolls her and body simultaneously. She sits up, looking at Cody but her breath gets caught in her throat. She’s used to seeing him shirtless due to the nature of their work, but it’s never been in an intimate environment like this. She also wasn’t expecting to flip over and come face to face with his god-like body.

She manages to find her voice, “I never said you were exhausting,” she corrects. “I just need like ten hours to myself to recover. I hate people.”

“You don’t hate people,” Cody laughs, throwing his shirt on. “You just hate being around them. Key difference.”

“Tomato, potato,” Y/N chucks her pillow at him as he collapses onto his own mattress.

Cody caught it midair with an exaggerated grunt. “Ah! Deadly.”

Y/N smirked, rolling onto her side, propping her head up on her hand. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to actually fight you.”

He gave her a sly grin, tossing the pillow back. “Oh, I’d win.”

“Ha!” she snorted, half-laughing. “Yeah, okay, Nightmare. I literally know all your moves.”

Cody stretched out on his back, arms folded under his head. “Nah. You don’t know all of them,” he said casually, a little too casually.

Y/N narrowed her eyes, tossing the pillow aside. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smirked without looking at her, like he knew exactly what he was doing. “Just sayin’… I got a few tricks you haven’t seen yet.”

The room felt warmer suddenly. Y/N swallowed, her face heating up before she could stop it.

She sat up a little too quickly. “Anyway,” she cleared her throat, running a hand through her hair, “I should probably change or something.”

But Cody’s voice stayed soft, less teasing now. “Hey, Y/N.”

She paused, halfway off the bed. “Yeah?”

He pushed up on his elbows, watching her with an expression that made her stomach knot. “You okay?”

She blinked. “What? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been…” He exhaled, scratching the back of his head. “I dunno. Since the day we got locked in that supply closet — you’ve kinda been pulling back a little.”

Y/N inhales, closing her eyes briefly as she thinks. It’s not that she’s been pulling back, it’s more along the lines of not knowing how to control herself and the growing feelings she was obtaining for her best friend. She sat down on the edge of her bed, chewing her lip. “I’ve just been trying to adjust to the new things that have been handed to us and our relationship,” she tells him, her eyes flickering in his direction. I guess I just feel like I don’t know how to act around you anymore,” she admitted quietly.

Cody’s brow softened. “Yeah.” He shifted, resting his arms on his knees, elbows propped forward. “Me neither.”

They both sat there for a beat, staring at the floor like it might explain what the hell was happening between them.

Y/N laughed under her breath, shaking her head. “This was supposed to be easy, you know? We’ve always been easy.”

Cody gave a small smile. “Yeah. Best friends, right?”

She glanced over at him, heart stuttering. “Right.”

His gaze met hers, and suddenly the air shifted — thick, humming, like neither of them wanted to say the next thing but both needed to.

Cody stood slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I keep thinking,” he began, voice low, “about how weird it is that it took some stupid accidental moments to make me realize how much I… care about you.”

Y/N’s breath caught. She turned fully, legs swinging off the bed, hands clenched nervously in her lap. “Cody…”

He stepped closer, almost hesitant, like he didn’t want to spook her. “I keep waiting for this to go back to normal. For us to laugh it off and move on. But I don’t want it to go back.”

Her throat felt tight. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

He gave a soft, almost helpless laugh. “Because I didn’t wanna mess this up.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “You mean everything to me, Y/N.”

She stood slowly, heart pounding so loud she was sure he could hear it. “Cody, I—”

Before she could finish, he was there, right in front of her, one hand gently cupping her jaw, the other hovering like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch her waist. His eyes searched hers, hesitant and vulnerable in a way few people ever saw from Cody Rhodes.

“I don’t wanna be just your friend anymore,” he murmured.

Y/N let out a shaky breath. “I don’t either.”

That was all it took.

His mouth met hers in a kiss that was slow, careful — like he was memorizing every second — but it didn’t take long before her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, kissing him like she’d wanted to for weeks.

When they finally broke apart, Cody leaned his forehead against hers, smiling, breathless. “Well,” he said softly, “guess we’re not just platonic soulmates after all, huh?”

Y/N laughed, her heart full and wild. “Guess not.”

Cody chuckled low in his throat. “So… can I stay over here tonight, or do I still get my own bed?”

She raised a brow, playful now. “We’ll see.”

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

Backstage was buzzing — crew members running cables, wrestlers milling around in sweats and ring gear, trainers moving between rooms. Cody stood near one of the black crates, absentmindedly rolling his wrists, waiting for his cue.

Y/N appeared at his side, slightly breathless from her segment, her hair still pinned up from earlier. “They ran me long,” she murmured, exhaling as she tugged lightly at the uncomfortable neckline of her top. “I swear, I’m two seconds from ripping this thing off.”

Cody gave her a quick once-over, a small amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t tempt me….”

Y/N snorted, elbowing him lightly. “Shut up.”

He just chuckled, watching her fiddle with a bobby pin. There was something easy between them — always had been — but lately, it sparked under the surface in ways neither of them could fully ignore anymore.

Without really thinking, Cody reached over and brushed a stray hair off her face, his fingers lingering just a little too long against her cheek.

Y/N froze slightly, her eyes lifting to his.

Cody shifted his weight, his voice dropping a little. “Y’know,” he said quietly, “we don’t gotta keep pretending we’re just best friends.”

She gave a small, nervous laugh. “I mean… we are best friends.”

“Yeah,” Cody murmured, his thumb grazing her jaw lightly. “But I’d say we’re a little more now too.”

Y/N’s breath caught, eyes flicking briefly to his mouth before darting away. Cody saw it — of course he saw it.

Screw it.

He slid a hand to the small of her back, gently pulling her closer, and pressed a kiss to her lips — soft, sure, no hesitation.

For a second, it was just them — quiet in the middle of the noise.

But then they heard the unmistakable throat-clear from behind.

“About damn time.”

Cody turned, arm still draped loosely around Y/N, to see Randy Orton leaning against a crate with an infuriating smirk on his face. Behind him, Kevin Steen and Rami Sebei pretended to be very engrossed in their phones, though the poorly hidden grins gave them away.

Y/N huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “Y’all are unreal.”

Randy shrugs, pushing off the crate. “What, you thought nobody noticed the way you two look at each other?”

Cody leans forward to kiss Y/N’s forehead, half laughing, half mortified.

“Hey,” Randy sticks his hand out to Kevin and Rami. “Pay up.”

Y/N gapes, laughing. “You bet on us?!”

Kevin gave a non apologetic shrug. “You weren’t exactly subtle.”

“We saw the way you two were looking at each other months ago,” Rami tells them.

“Congrats lovebirds,” Randy tells them as he and the guys start to walk off. “Just don’t get anymore sappy than you already are in the ring, yeah?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Cody replies, fist bumping the Viper.

Y/N watches them go before looking up at Cody, still tucked against him, her cheeks warm. “I still can’t believe they bet on us.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Cody drawled, brushing his thumb along her back, “I’m pretty sure half this locker room’s been waiting longer than we have.”

She smiled softly, resting her forehead lightly against his chest.

And just like that, there was no big announcement, no stage lights, no performative gesture — just two people standing backstage, in a stolen quiet moment, grinning like idiots because they were finally exactly where they wanted to be.

[jaeminvore]

I’ve checked telegram and babes, would you believe me if I say we've first talked about u working on this fic in 2023? (to be fair, it was around november so we'll round that off to very early 2024) CRAZY I KNOW which is why I'm extra extra excited about this:

First of all, I already expected Jeno to be sad but goddamn i was not expecting him to be that sad and jesus do i feel for the guy omfg 😭 i couldn't even imagine being constantly compared to my brother who I should have been looking up to thanks a lot Jeno's mom! Mother of the year everyone 😒😒 way to fuck up your kid so young KDGHFDKJG

"“Aren’t you supposed to kiss your professor’s feet, given that you’re in student council? And here I thought you’d be a good girl.” Jeno rasped, resting his arms on your table, leaning down to your level."

Girl. If i tell you I screamed? And the back and forth after that. Man. you could really tell he was so over it. I mean I get it though and Jeno hasn't really done anything to make his reputation less notorious so I understand MC's aversion lol because personally, I would like to stay away. Still, I also understand Jeno's frustration whew.

AND JAEHYUN REALLY HAS THE WORST TIMING PLEAKSFGSDFG kick a guy when he's already down and he just really had to see MC practically tripping on her own two feet to make nice with Jaehyun oh my godhghdfkghdfg I'd HATE to be him rn. Like everywhere he goes, he still finds himself in his step-brother's shadow GOD put me in the psych word atp.

“Y/n, I’m not fucking kidding, you should leave. Besides, the one you came for isn’t at home at the moment,” he muttered bitterly. That caught your attention, “oh? Busy with a job then?” You asked, looking around the exquisite paintings hung at the entrance of his place. “Are you gonna leave or do I have to call the guards to escort you out?”

Girl, oh my fucking GOD, read the room!! Well, that could have gone worse 😭😭 quite literally bracing myself for the hurt that's about to come in a couple of thousand of words but my goodness do I love the back and forth KFGHKDFG you should give yourself a pat on the back for executing it so well. I could feel the frustration from the screen fr.

“Fucking hell, you’re the girl he keeps on stalking and crying about?” He chuckled, “let me call him,” he turned away for a second.

Omg Jaemin, the gremlin, mention HIHIHI 🩷 okay but Jeno was a little funny for that JHSGJFDFGH lowkey a little shit too eye see it's giving friends who would tease you about your crush except this is MC dealing with a crazy ex that does not know when to give up LMAO getting back on track, THE TENSION HELLO smashing MC and Jeno's faces together like barbies rn they should kiss I think maybe that'll solve everything right now.

But them sharing a laugh after literally running away from eldritch horror Jaemin is so cute it's moments like this that has me giddy fr (I'm a hopeless romantic wbk) yeah they need to bone man. But hello?? WDYM Jaemin still has a pic of him and MC together on his insta FAWKKKK that guy's obsessed and not like in a hot way either. Jeno do something I'll give you ten bucks rn if you do.

Jeno’s heart was beating fast, he wasn’t sure if he had words to speak at this moment, so staring at you was all he could do. You spoke for him. You defended him. No one’s ever done that, no one cared enough to understand, moreover, it didn’t help how you looked angrier than him at the situation.

GIRL. ARIA. BABE. HESJFGHDKFHG JENOOOOOO GET BEHIND ME RN 😭😭😭😭 Jeno being vulnerable >>>>>>

“Jeno, you’re doing so well, you know that right?” You whispered, as genuine as possible, your fingers grabbing his own, which made him look up at you finally." ... “No one’s ever said that,” he spoke so silently, you almost missed it. You held his hand tight—being almost angrier than him while answering his mom back—he isn’t sure if he’ll ever be over that. 

and MC going out of her way to tell him that whatever his mom says, essentially conditioning at this point cos wtf man, isn’t true. Like it’s so nice omg sometimes we just really need one person on our side to make things better yk?? (add me to your side Jeno, my babygirl my bubblegum princess cutiepie) Just the thought that no matter what happens I know I could depend on that person CRYING RN.

Crashing out right now because Jeno's crashing out is definitely a first holy shit, but it's relieving that he finally let all that built up frustration out oh my you really can't help but feel for him poor guy :(

“Because you’re real, you don’t fake your emotions. You don’t smile at somebody who you don’t care about, you get angry, messy, you let yourself be shown how you are,” you lip twitched slightly as you said so, your own heartbeat rose at the sentences you so easily uttered, “that’s what makes you a human, Jeno, a human who’s trying his best, which is what matters.”

Like, I don't even need to say anything man. MC my GOAT!!!!

“Say it again,” he whispered.  “Say what?” You breathed.  “That you’re glad I’m not him.”

He could quite literally tell me to jump and I'd say, "how high?"

AND OF COURSE THEY GET INTERRUPTED JUST AS THEY WERE ABOUT TO KISS. Jaehyun meet me in the nearest 7/11 parking lot so I can kick your non-existent ass! AND THE AUDACITY OF JAEMIN TO COME SWINGING WITH WORDS TALKING SHIT ABOUT JENO now there's two people i have to fucking fight damn 😒😒 like this pmo bro:

“I just don’t get it,” he said, voice colder now. “He’s always angry, I was angry, I made you feel something, can he say the same?” Your head was hurting by now, as you mumbled yet another shut up, only to be stopped by Jaemin as he grabbed your arm.  “What? He’s the angry, tortured type. You’re into hopeless projects now?”

Jaemin going on and on and on gave me a visceral feeling of anger like shut up dude looool "I was angry" like that was a good thing to begin with KJGHDFJKG I gotta say though, he makes a great antagonist like im hating him so much rn LOL. On another note, Jeno asking MC to ask Jaemin to leave is lowkey hot LMAOOOOO.

e%$^%$$##$%#$^ nOOOOOOO JUST WHEN I THOUGHT EVERYHTING WAS GONNA GO SMOOTHLY (I say as if I haven't witnessed your progress in telegram) Two steps forward, one step back... man, I'm just gonna stick to the "it gets worse before it gets better" saying 🙂‍↕️ BUT I GET YOU JENO with the shit that he's been through, I can't blame him for thinking of the worst like his self-esteem got the brunt of his Mom's words over the years </3 I wanna give him a hug... aaaand the tension is back let's all live!! I'm ngl I love how MC doesn't take shit from anyone like look at her keeping Jeno on his toes YUM!

“No,” you stepped forward. “You don’t get it. You think everything is about being chosen or abandoned. But not everyone’s trying to leave you, Jeno. Sometimes people show up. But you keep slamming the door in their face.”

Damn. This shit is fire girl. My jaw-dropped like literally JSDRGFJDG CLOCK IT MC!!!! Everything is crashing and burning because of Jeno YES I SAID IT (i'm in tears).

“I ruin things,” he said, “I always have. I don’t know how to love something without fucking it up. But I wanted you anyway—I still do.” Your throat tightened. “And I’m supposed to what? Carry all of that? Be your exception?” “No,” he said, stepping closer. “I just need you to see that I’m trying. Even if it’s ugly. Even if I’m bleeding and loud and afraid. I need you to see me, and stay anyway.”

Absolute cinema. Jesus, maybe love is about being uncomfortable enough to let people see how rotten we can be from the inside, and yet be loved all the same. Something something about loving someone isn't always going to be easy, it takes one person to power through the hardships with you and stay anyways GODDDDDDDD 💔💔💔

“I hate that I hurt you,” he whispered. “But I’d rather burn with you than freeze without you.”

oh my god?????????? you're gonna have to pay for my therapy sessions girl. THIS SHIT IS FIRE!!! (part 2)

You broke the kiss first, panting, eyes wide. “You shouldn’t—” you tried to say, especially when his body was hurting.  “I have to,” he breathed, leaning in again. “Let me, just once. Please.”

SCREAMINGGGG OH MY FUGHK DSFG I could just imagine Jeno pleading with a broken voice I'm already burning hot from my country's fucked up climate and he just had to say all that FAWKKK and the sex... oh my god.. the emotion behind it, the absolute desperation these two have for each other is so visceral it feels like I shouldn't be here to witness such intimacy holy shit. Not to mention the possessive streak.. the teasing... the dirty talk... if this fic was a full course meal best believe I'd devour this entire thing and leave the damn plates clean omfg.

THE GAGGING MC WITH HER PANTIES BIT WAAAAHSFJKAHSDK UR CRAZY 😭😭😭 Jeno u control freak u r so sexy to me..

“You’re mine,” he mumbled, “say it.” “Yours—I’m yours,” you breathed as best as you could.  “Again.” “I’m yours, Jeno.” “Fuck—again.” “So so fucking yours, I’m all yours Jeno.” “Mine,” he whispered, so possessive. 

Oh I'm his already might as well write "Jeno" on my forehead in Sharpie KJSDFGHKDFG the aftercare dfjghdfg he's such a sweetheart bye he is really trying for both his and MC's sake that is also very lovely to me... my babies..

(this was me reading:)

Because this, the hand holding, the quiet teasing, the stares that didn’t matter anymore, this was normal. And for the first time in his life, Jeno finally understood: Normal didn’t mean boring. It meant chosen. It meant enough. It meant being yours.

Wow. What a wild ride honestly and I'm floored at the fact that you've managed to outdo yourself yet again 👏🏼👏🏼 The writing was amazing as always oh my fucking god you really had me eating from the palm of your hand with how much I enjoyed every second reading this while I sweat my ass off because it's still hot as fuck here LMFAOOO and I am very proud of how far you've come with your writing!

It gets better and better with time I swear and that's putting it lightly like I could go on and on, but I feel like this is already too long KSDHGDKFHG JUST KNOW THAT i'M YOUR NO.1 FAN AND I CAN'T WAIT TO DEVOUR THE NEXT FIC YOU HAVE IN STORE FOR US WEEEEEEE ily and ily for sharing this fic with us hehe it's a privilege I would never take for granted fr 💖💖

CALL ME WHEN YOU HATE ME LESS

PAIRING: lee jeno x fem!reader (ft. jaehyun and jaemin)

GENRE/CW: smut, angst, eventual fluff, porn with plot, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, choking, blowjob, using panties as a gag, spitting, edging, squirting, mentions of fighting, blood, usage of nicknames, slowburn if you squint, emotional trauma, lmk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT: 18,321 words. (18.3k)

PLAYLIST: here.

SYNOPSIS: Jeno Lee was a walking academic hazard—hot, broody, and failing just about everything that wasn’t football. Enter you, his new tutor: organized, overachieving, and absolutely not here for his attitude or his annoyingly perfect jawline. But between late-night study sessions, petty insults, and one very inconvenient almost-kiss, things start spiraling—fast. He’s supposed to be you project. You are supposed to hate him. Instead, you both are one sarcastic comment away from either a breakdown or a makeout—and honestly, it could go either way.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni (the full fic will include smut).

A/N: hihi, angels! i'm finally back with a jeno fic aaa thank you my girls @jaeminvore @hoondrop @gojosmojodojo for giving me ideas and listening to me losing my shit over this fic <333 i hope y’all enjoy reading it <33 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

Chapter 1: Raised in Shadows, Told to Shine. 

Comparison. 

The core of all insecurities. The onset of overthinking. The path to self loathing. 

That’s what comparison does to a person—drive them to the edge of insanity in hopes of turning into something; into someone the others will look up to, compare themselves to. 

It was a bad thing per se, but it was motivation enough for Jeno to work harder in order to leave the country, to get away from his family. 

The reason? His mother ever so conveniently happened to have fallen in love with a rich guy, someone who never knew what struggle meant, and Jeno was just four back then. It didn’t take much time for him to settle into the lifestyle, however, no matter how much he could have prepared to face his step-brother, he simply couldn’t bother looking him in the eye. 

Why? Because he was known to be the epitome of perfection. Jung Jaehyun was the son every parent wanted, the student every teacher was fond of, the doctor every nurse wanted to work with. 

The sweet dimple on his cheek was a great asset in melting the hearts of everyone in his proximity or afar. 

Jeno on the other hand, wasn’t quite sure why he wasn’t considered to be enough, especially when he got decent grades throughout his school life, he wasn’t a bother, kind to those who were around them, but it changed. 

It changed when he got daily reminders of how he wasn’t even close to how amazing and successful his step brother was. 

That’s when things started looking down for Jeno. He stopped caring about the grades, he wasn’t sure why he was supposed to put up a I’m so good, so smart act in front of others when there was no reason for him to do that. 

Others didn’t bother doing the same for him. 

Rather, he tried to work upon the only thing he was passionate about, the only thing that mattered to him—football. 

Despite winning several trophies for playing the sport, his parents labelled it to be useless, which broke the last fragment of his heart, shattering it to the point of no return. 

Which would explain his current demeanor—moody, permanent scowl on his perfectly sculpted face and no care for the others around him. His sole focus being football, which is also the reason behind his current dilemma. 

“Being an excellent player in the sports team does not guarantee you your scholarship, Mr. Lee,” Jeno’s teacher incharge spoke up, taking off her specs right after reviewing his annual grade report, “you’re failing three out of five modules, and if you don’t start getting back on track soon, then I’m afraid you won’t be able to play in the team anymore.” 

Fuck. 

Jeno had been neglecting his studies, he admits, yet he never thought that he’d reach this point. It’s not that he wasn’t smart, he simply had no motivation to go on with his studies. His parents could easily pay the university to keep him around, however, he wanted nothing from them, which also explains why he got himself a scholarship in the first place. 

“I’m sorry if I’m late.” Jeno’s eyes snapped wide open, turning back to see his step brother entering the teacher’s cabin. 

“Why are you here?” Jeno asked, a muscle in his jaw twitching but Jaehyun only smiled. 

Jeno’s professor was equally stunned, probably even more with her jaw wide open at the appearance of such a handsome young man. 

“I called him in since your parents were busy,” his professor said, handling Jeno a letter, “go and find your tutor in the council room, she’ll be helping you with the upliftment of your grades, Mr. Lee, and now if you’ll excuse us, I’ve got to fill in your brother with your current situation,” she said the last part awfully sweetly as Jaehyun sat down in one of the vacant chairs, smiling at her kind tone. 

Jeno scoffed, the demeanor change around Jaehyun went crazy and he wasn’t a fan of it, especially when he was called in to complain about his mistakes. 

He simply wanted to leave the university and never come back. 

He waited, taking deep breaths before punching the wall, not being able to contain his anger. The impact did hurt, yet he paid no heed to it, the blood dripping as he walked towards the council room to get over with the day. 

The name written on the sheet wasn’t unfamiliar to him, rather it only wearied the already infuriated boy as he knocked on the door of the student council room, which was empty except for you sitting there, working on a few papers which appeared to be the newsletter for the month. 

“Come in,” you allowed, not looking up as Jeno made his way inside the room, observing the surroundings where he’s never been before. 

Then he looked your way, taking in your appearance. You looked cozy in your university varsity jacket, your specs sitting on your nose as you buried yourself in reading whatever it was that you were reading. He couldn’t deny you looked pretty in a way that’s comforting to eyes. 

With no words exchanged, he pushed the letter towards you, which finally made you look up at the source of disturbance, your eyebrows raising slightly as you most certainly did not expect the star football player to visit you in the council room, which he’s never been to before. 

He simply stood there, hands shoved into his pockets while still looking around, and you took a second to grab the letter, skimming over to read and understand that the letter was given by Mrs. Kim, the teacher in charge of your department, requesting you to take up the few teaching sessions you had applied for, Jeno being the student you’ll have to teach for the same. 

You clicked your tongue, folding the letter exactly as it was before pushing it his way, your arms folding across your chest as you finally spoke up, “I reject. I don’t wish to teach you.”

His eyes were quick to snap towards you, finally staring right into your own eyes, irritation clear as he pushed his tongue on his inner cheek, eyebrow raised. 

“Aren’t you supposed to kiss your professor’s feet, given that you’re in student council? And here I thought you’d be a good girl.” Jeno rasped, resting his arms on your table, leaning down to your level. 

You chuckled, expecting the exact response from him, “this is exactly why I don’t want to waste my time on you—you athletes don’t wish to study, you just require a passing grade, for which I don’t have time to spare.” 

“What the fuck do you mean waste your time?” 

“Lee Jeno, you’ve got more money with you than your bank account can handle, so I’m sure losing your scholarship won’t do you much harm,” you said with a sickening smile, “you’ve got no interest in studying, your attendance record states that oh so proudly.” 

“You don’t know shit about me,” Jeno seethed out, messy hair strands falling over his eyes. 

“I know everything I need to know about you. Now excuse me, unlike you, I actually have work to do,” you said, passing him a tight lipped smile, not letting the proximity faze you. 

“You—” 

Jeno’s sentence was cut short with two sharp knocks on the slightly ajar door, a head peeking in, successfully garnering your attention. You could feel your mood doing one eighty with the sudden intrusion of this stranger—whom you didn’t wish to be a stranger around anymore, your eyes softening, lips parting as you stared at him in awe. 

Meanwhile, if Jeno thought that the day was done being a bitch to him, then he was wrong because the level of irritation that bubbled up in him the moment he saw the change in your expressions. 

“Sorry to interrupt, may I get in?” Jaehyun asked, smiling his usual dimpled smile, which had you swooning in record time. 

You could practically see veins of frustration popping out on Jeno’s neck, “no. Your work is done, you should head back home,” he groaned, but Jaehyun only looked you way, continuing to get in, looking your way. 

“I’m Jaehyun, Jeno’s elder brother. I can’t thank you enough for agreeing on giving him tutoring lessons, especially with how busy you must be with council duties,” he spoke up, shaking your hand, which was smaller in his warm, big hands. 

Jeno scoffed, “she’s not—”

“Of course, Jaehyun! It’s my pleasure to help him out, and it’ll only help me better with my extracurricular credits! It’s no problem,” you nodded, a gentle smile on your face as your eyes practically twinkled with excitement, taking in the beauty that Jaehyun beheld. 

It was ridiculous. 

It was absurd how just two sentences; paired with a sweet smile from his brother, were enough for you to change your decision, in the span of two seconds at that. 

He tightened the hold he had on the strap of his black bag, “no fucking need. I’ll find another tutor,” Jeno deadpanned, walking out of the room, not paying attention to Jaehyun who called out his name in the background. 

He wouldn’t let you use him to get to his brother. 

With that thought, he decided to detour and make his way to the gym, trying to blow off steam by practicing punching, each one getting progressively stronger as his mind replayed the difference in your behaviour when it came to him and his brother. 

It didn’t bother him that his knuckles were bruising, he knew he needed this extrinsic pain to get rid of the obvious hurt he felt each day. 

And he couldn’t understand why he felt so affected by your actions, especially when it was the first time you had met. 

Jealousy was indeed a bitch. 

Chapter 2: Surrendered to the skirt. 

Two days passed by and Jeno’s mood showed no progress in terms of improving, rather, he felt worse each time the memory invaded his brain. He tried his best to sit down and open the first module of the unit he had to study. 

It’s not like he was bad at studying, he was just a bit out of practice, and well, his mental health wasn’t doing much to help him get any better. 

Just when he was about to actually get a hang of getting into the topic, the doorbell rang. His parents were out for business, as usual, and his step brother was busy doing morning shifts, which meant that he was alone at the mansion, minus the myriad of worker staff they had to take care of the place. 

Essentially, he had to get down to see who it was at the door, only to spot you leaning against the doorframe as one of the attendants had asked you to wait. He stopped, observing you from the staircase as you typed something on your phone. 

Why were you here after clearly rejecting him? Why were you here when he’s clearly told you he doesn’t want you to be his tutor?

Scoffing, he walked down the stairs and towards you, standing right in front of you, clearly invading your personal space as he decided to lean against the same side of the thick door frame with his brows raised.

You took a second to take in his appearance as he was clad in casual gray sweatpants with a black tank, which honestly did nothing to hide his muscles. 

“Why are you here?” Jeno asked with a bored tone. 

“I’m here to teach you, remember?” You gave him a pointed look. 

“And I clearly told you I don’t wish to study from you, it’s better if you leave now. I’ll just tell Mrs. Kim that you taught me,” he said, almost turning back to go inside. 

“And have them wondering how you failed even after getting tutored by me? Yeah, I don’t think so,” you shook your head, inviting yourself in without second thoughts. 

“Y/n, I’m not fucking kidding, you should leave. Besides, the one you came for isn’t at home at the moment,” he muttered bitterly. 

That caught your attention, “oh? Busy with a job then?” You asked, looking around the exquisite paintings hung at the entrance of his place. 

“Are you gonna leave or do I have to call the guards to escort you out?”

You chuckled, “you really don’t want the previous year questions I have? The council students get them each year you see, they’re bound to guarantee you good marks,” you explained with a smirk. 

Jeno groaned, his lip bitten as he tried to think if tolerating you would be worth the questions, but his football career was at stake and there was no better option but to accept it. 

“What’s the catch?” Jeno asked after a few seconds, sighing with defeat. 

“Nothing at all. We both know that you need these papers to get the grade that you wanna achieve and I’ll get my extra credits,” you reason. 

“You just wanna meet my brother,” he said dryly, “either way, you won’t get to see a lot of him, he’s always at the hospital, working and being the perfect son he is. Plus, he’s definitely not into uni students,” he looked you up and down, soon gulping and looking elsewhere. 

You were clad in a pretty skirt which showed off your legs—which you did wear in hopes of crossing paths with Jaehyun, but you completely missed how Jeno was staring at your body. 

He wasn’t sure if it was out of hatred that he stared at you, or it was admiration because you were one of those people he despised—overachievers.  

You were in the student council, got good grades and professors favoured you, it wouldn’t be a surprise if your parents loved you for being the ideal daughter. It most certainly didn’t help that your appearance seemed as if you were the sweetest, kindest angel on earth, which wasn’t the case when you were around Jeno though. 

“I’ll manage,” you shrugged, “so, I need your final word, Mr. Lee.”

“I am sure I can find better tutors than you,” he raised his brows, challenging you and you didn’t look fazed at all. 

“I am quite literally the best, professor Kim asked me to tutor you for a reason, besides, no one’s gonna agree to help you out with exams being only one month away,” you made your point, extending your hand for him to finalize his decision. 

Overconfidence. He sighed. 

Jeno stared at your extended hand, thinking of the bigger picture here. He’d get tutoring and would be able to score decent grades if he gets back to his usual routine of studying. 

Downside? He’d have to face you each day. 

Sighing and keeping his feelings in check, he simply nodded, taking your smaller hand into his as he accepted the offer, suddenly aware of the warmth of your palm and how it leaves a tingling feeling behind as you shake his hand firmly with a smirk. 

“So, where are we gonna study?” 

Chapter 3: Silent room, a loud mind. 

Turns out, it’s not that easy to sit down and just teach Jeno. 

Given the amount of classes he had missed, or rather, the amount of classes he had managed to attend, it was clear that he didn’t even have the basic idea of the syllabus for the semester modules. 

Moreover, you had already pissed him off by mentioning how you didn’t expect him to have such a clean and organized room, as if you had already decided that he was going to be a messy human. 

Moving forward, you both sat down next to each other with your laptop open in front of you as you made him write down all the topics he needed to cover for the next month, forming a sort of timetable of a kind. 

It was surprisingly peaceful between you two, as if you both wished to get over with it as soon as possible, behaving as civilly as you could but there was this one thing that Jeno couldn’t stop doing. 

Overthinking. 

It’s the way you looked his way with disappointed and concerned filled eyes whenever he messed up, the way his jaw clenched when you told him to do better, the way he couldn’t help but stare at your glossed up lips as you looked around his room, eyes settling on his childhood pictures which were framed. 

It was also new to him to actually interact with people outside of his football team, especially girls. He couldn’t remember the last time he had talked to one. He wondered what was going on in your mind, he wondered if you were silently judging him through it all.

That’s all what people in his life did anyway. 

“You were cute as a kid, what happened to you now?” You joked, chuckling as you looked his way, only to find his mouth slightly agape.

He hadn’t expected you to say that, and he certainly didn’t want to retort back with something that would ruin his mood, “I grew up to be hot is what happened to me,” he replied smoothly. 

“Oh, so you do know how to joke around,” you raised your brows in surprise. It was indeed the image he had formed over the years. The image of him being nothing more than a rude jock who wouldn’t even reply to someone nicely. 

Now that you were actually interacting with him, you were going to find out how many of the rumors were true about him. 

He only leaned closer at your statement, you could see his muscles flexing as he rested one arm on the table in front of you both, “it’s not a joke, love. I am hot.”

You scoffed at the term of endearment, suddenly aware of his scent now that he was so close to you, “and egoistic too,” you helpfully added. 

“Rightfully so.”

Your childish argument was interrupted that very second as the door to Jeno’s room swung open, revealing the exact man you came to see. 

Jaehyun was smiling, dressed in black slacks and a button up shirt as he welcomed you here, and you were quick to notice Jeno’s mood turning fowl that very second. 

“Thank you so much for coming here, Y/n. Let me send a few snacks and drinks for you both while you study,” he smiled, and you rushed up to stand, not even bothering about the pen that fell down as you did so. 

“Jaehyun,” you walked up to him, much to Jeno’s dismay, “oh, you don’t have to do anything,” you smiled sweetly, and he only shook his head softly, grabbing your arm. 

“Don’t worry about it, just sit and relax, okay?” He squeezed your arm, going downstairs and you sighed with a smile. Even his scent was perfect to you. 

“You done daydreaming?” Jeno asked, deadpanning once his brother had left. 

“You done solving the question?” You retorted. 

He sighed, as if his energy was drained already, “yeah, just check and get this over with,” he said, handing you the binder and looking elsewhere. 

It was probably the first time you actually paid attention to his dejected tone, as if he didn’t have the energy to fight back, and you obviously didn’t wish to irk him more, especially when he looked so frustrated right now. Thankfully, a lot of his answers were indeed correct, which was another surprise to you. 

He was smart, he just simply didn’t wish to study. 

“Something wrong?” He asked, cocking his brow and you blinked, “you’re actually not as dumb as you portray yourself to be,” you mumbled, checking everything thoroughly. 

It should’ve been insulting to Jeno per se, but even the slightest amount of approval was a big thing for him, causing the corner of his lips to curl up. He felt insane, the amount of emotions he felt in a single day was perhaps the reason for the same, courtesy of you. 

He was glad Jaehyun didn’t enter the room again, sending in a servant staff to give you the snacks instead, which maintained the peace throughout the session. 

You couldn’t help but notice how well he concentrated once there was silence in the room, your eyes focused on his hand gripping the pen, making it seem more veiny than it already was. 

Also, you didn’t miss the hint of a smile ghosting his face when you told him he did a good job right before leaving, which made you think of a few things, one being— 

He looked beautiful with a smile. 

Chapter 4: You can’t read my mind, so read my lips. 

As much as Jeno loved the comfort of his room, he really wanted to avoid you bumping into Jaehyun again.

Even the thought of your interactions, your fake sweet smiles, made him wanna punch the wall. Jaehyun really had it easy and Jeno never understood why, it was no joke that Jeno was decent looking as well, talented in his own way, and a kind hearted person who just happened to have a protective wall around him so as to not get hurt any further. 

Which is why you had been tutoring him in the library from the past ten sessions, his own personal request to avoid having privacy with you. 

Heck, even Jeno didn’t know it was his own mind trying to protect him, which is why he couldn’t let anyone in, anyone.  

Which made this situation far from ideal as he had you pressed against the library wall, no distance between you both as you closed your eyes in pure distress. 

“What the actual fuck is he doing here?” Your question was directed more to yourself, which confused Jeno further.

He poked his tongue into his cheek, annoyance creeping through, “what the fuck is going on?” He asked. 

“Shhh, not so loud,” you pressed your palm against his mouth, “just hide me.”

He rolled his eyes, grabbing your wrist effortlessly, pinning it above your head, “you don’t tell me what to do, yeah?” He mumbled, flustering you under his gaze before your eyes travelled back to where you were looking initially. 

He sighed in annoyance, looking back at the direction of your supposed fear. 

Na Jaemin. Another of Jeno’s football teammates. 

“Why are you hiding from Jaemin,” he asked, brow raised as he leaned into you. 

“Ugh,” you groaned, “he’s my ex, he shouldn’t even be in the library, he’s never here!” You were stressed and Jeno smirked devilishly. 

“Fucking hell, you’re the girl he keeps on stalking and crying about?” He chuckled, “let me call him,” he turned away for a second. 

You used your free hand to grab his nape, “don’t fucking move,” you mumbled. 

Perhaps you were too harsh with the grabbing, also not calculating the proximity enough, because Jeno’s nose was brushing against yours, lips close to the point of touching, and a low groan escaping his lips as your name rolls out his tongue in the most angry grunt ever, “what the actual fuck are you doing?” 

“J—just let him leave,” you mumbled, gulping and closing your eyes, his mint breath fanning your face as heat crept up your neck, up till your ears. 

“What will I get out of it,” he asked, his free hand resting on your waist now, “why should I help you?”

“I’m literally helping you study, Jeno,” you seethed out.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he groaned, making you open your eyes, staring into his deep ones now, suddenly feeling small under his gaze, and well, his body. 

“What?” you asked, looking away to check if Jaemin had left, pushing Jeno away the second you confirmed it. 

Jeno, however, wasn’t having any of it. 

With a scoff and the shake of his head, he grabbed your wrist again, twisting it behind your back, not putting too much pressure so it just hurt but still made it clear how he would not let you go so easily, “you can’t run from me.”

“Let go, I fucking swear—” you let out, squirming around and pushing him, he didn’t budge at all sadly. 

“You do realize I’m a lot stronger than you, right?” He chuckled. 

“Fuck—what do you want me to do?” You rolled your eyes, jaw clenching as you looked at him. 

Before he could answer, your eyes widened in fear yet again as you yanked his arm so forcefully, he had no chance to balance himself, a yelp leaving his mouth as you ran and he was following right after you. 

Jaemin was back and you could just not deal with his ass anymore, hence the overwhelming response. Fight or flight? Flight for sure. Dragging Jeno into it might be a stretch but hey, whatever helped you run away from the gremlin, right? 

“Y/N,” Jeno hissed yet again, once you stopped by your seat, gathering both yours and his belongings scattered across the table from when you were studying a few minutes back, before getting up to find a book, before seeing Jaemin roaming around the halls of the library. 

It was quite amusing to Jeno if he was being honest, a mix of feelings as you grabbed his wrist effortlessly yet again, your eyes set on the exit door leading to the parking lot where Jeno’s Ferrari Purosangue stood proudly. 

“Get in!” You screamed even though you were far from the threat (read: Jaemin) now. 

“That’s my car in case you forgot—”

“Now.” 

“So fucking annoying—” He grumbled, with a small smile playing on his lips. 

You looked so bothered as if you were chased by Ghostface and not Jaemin, even though you probably wouldn’t run away from the prior. It was comical regardless, the long breath you exhaled once you were comfortable on his premium quality car seat, head leaned back fully. 

You opened your eyes after a few seconds only to find Jeno’s eyes on you, face curved into an amused look. You stared at one another for a second, two seconds, three seconds—and he burst out laughing. 

It was probably the first time you saw him laugh like that—so freely, without any care in this world. It was loud but breathless, making his eyes crinkle with small crescents forming, his perfectly aligned pearly teeth showing as he went on, laughing at your disheveled state and crazy response to everything that happened the past twenty minutes. 

You were calm and composed for the most part, it was rare for you to look this frustrated over anything, which came as a surprise to Jeno, the whole situation seemingly pure comedy to him. 

You observed him so carefully, your own lips twitching into a smile and before you knew it, you were laughing alongside him so normally as if two friends were laughing over a joke. 

A weird sort of warmth spread over your body, it made no sense honestly, you were pinned to the wall just a few minutes back and Jeno looked as if he’d burst into flames with his anger, and now he’s laughing at your disheveled, non-composed state. 

Once Jeno caught you staring back at him with glittering eyes, and a little smile, he froze. It was easy for him to come back to his senses (read: put his walls back up) which only made your smile drop too. It was awkward, both of you looking elsewhere while clearing your throats, definitely not something you expected. 

“Uh—sorry about that, yeah,” you mumbled, playing with the loose threat of your sweater sleeve. 

“Yeah, no problem,” he retorted, turning the car engine on to start driving. 

Why was it awkward? Because you laughed together like two absolutely normal individuals? Because you had Jeno pinning you to the wall to avoid your ex? 

Or because you almost kissed. Almost. 

 The ride back to your apartment was silent, no songs playing in the car, just the small buzz of engine, and the nail tapping on the screen of your phone—to avoid any kind of conversation happening, also clearly missing out on how Jeno glanced at you every few seconds, the speed of his thoughts running faster than his own car. 

“I’ll—see you tomorrow then?” Your voice cracked as you said so, wincing slightly at your own tone. 

Jeno was about to chuckle again, yet he covered it with a low cough as he mumbled a yes, as you opened the door once he stopped in front of your apartment. 

That’s it, you were leaving, and his eyes didn’t leave you till you disappeared into the apartment. 

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, groaning as he banged his head into it, a low horn sound only frustrating him further. It was hard for him to drive after, the scene of you being so vulnerable yet glaring at him like a scared little vixen trying to look brave, replayed in his mind. 

No, he couldn’t drive, couldn’t focus on the road anymore, stopping the car at a random parking lot of a fast food chain, grabbing his phone to pull up Instagram, specifically Jaemin’s account. 

He didn’t have to scroll much to find the picture he was looking for—his teammate, Jaemin, standing right next to you with his arm resting on your waist. Jeno didn’t know why that picture left a bitter taste in his mouth all of a sudden, knowing well how badly Jaemin fucked up when he cheated on you. 

And now the asshole is running after you again. 

You didn’t deserve that, you deserve someone better—someone perfect like you. 

He went back, not having it in him to look at the picture again, instead, going to your account now. It looked professional, all your posts being highly calculative to make your feed look pleasing. Your highlights, however, had this one particular picture—a picture of you smiling without a care in the world, so raw, so genuine, so beautiful. 

Beautiful. 

Jeno thought you looked beautiful, and it made him angry. 

He was angry—because deep down, he desired to be the reason for your smile. 

Chapter 5: Pretty in pink, but my head’s in the dark. 

Jeno made you smile. 

You did know that laugh was contagious, however, you didn’t think you’d actually give in to Jeno’s sweet chuckles. 

Sleep didn’t come to you easy when the constant reminder of the study session poked the back of your mind, not to mention what happened in the library earlier, where you and Jeno almost kissed—

No. 

You shook your head. Such niche experiences never falter you, so why was this such a big deal? 

Another groan left your mouth, but alas, your body was relaxed enough to sleep so you woke up energetic the next day. It felt oddly friendly when you saw Jeno at the University, and he threw a two finger salute your way, you waved back before going your way. 

“You’re zoned out, again.” Karina, one of your classmates, pointed out and you sighed as she rambled about how you needed to let some guy in, quite literally, to blow off some steam, which you clearly weren’t doing, hence the stuck up energy. 

Being descriptive about it didn’t help either—yet another reminder of how Jeno’s body was pressed against yours this hour, yesterday. 

Heat crept up your neck, urging you to pack up and leave the room. It was hot, stuffy almost for you to do anything, which is why you found yourself studying at the empty seat of the University park. 

You had to face him again, of course, there was no escape to that, and as if the universe was testing you, the time passed by way too quickly for your liking and soon, you found yourself standing in front of the main door of Jeno’s place. 

Before you could even ring the bell, the door opened to a huffing Jeno, almost as if he ran downstairs, but how did he know—

“Hey,” he whispered, looking around. 

He didn’t wait for your reply, simply grabbing your wrist and dragging you inside, your skin burning at the unexpected touch, but you didn’t shake him off of you, only asking in a low tone, “what are you doing?” 

“Shh,” Jeno mumbled, as though he was trying to avoid someone, or rather, trying to hide you from someone. His efforts were futile, however, once he heard that stern voice of his mother booming through the walls of his mansion. 

Now you get why Jeno was in a hurry, the look on her face had a chill going down your spine. 

You felt Jeno stiffen alongside you, his hold on your wrist now tighter, uncontrollably so. 

“You must be the new tutor for Jeno,” she said, scrutinizing every bit of your existence, Jeno’s jaw clenched at her unwavering gaze. 

“Yes ma’am, It’s a pleasure meeting you,” you tried to say, only for her to cut you off. 

“Trust me, darling. There must be no pleasure in helping Jeno, but I do hope he learns a thing or two from you—you look like a smart young lady, hopefully, a positive influence on him.” 

You looked at her with your mouth open slightly, not believing the sight in front of you. No mother should look down on their children like that, ever. 

“Mrs. Jung, I hope we’re talking about the same Jeno because he is amazing at studies, he grasps concepts faster than I do, and then I believe I’m the one who’s learning from him right now!” You smiled, full of enthusiasm, feeling Jeno’s hand dropping down from your wrist. 

“In fact, I’ve never seen anyone play football so perfectly while also being so brilliantly academically smart, I firmly believe his grades will shock you this time. Now, if you’ll excuse us, it’s time for our tutoring session.”

You passed her a small smile, the shock clear on her face, before grabbing Jeno’s hand and taking him along with you—to his room. You didn’t look back, simply closing the door as you breathed out with a pissed expression. 

Jeno’s heart was beating fast, he wasn’t sure if he had words to speak at this moment, so staring at you was all he could do. 

You spoke for him. 

You defended him. 

No one’s ever done that, no one cared enough to understand, moreover, it didn’t help how you looked angrier than him at the situation. 

“W—Why?” Jeno couldn’t keep his voice in check, “you didn’t have to—say all that.”

That’s when you turned around, facing him. All your anger disappeared once you focused on his face, so vulnerable, so confused, so desperate to know your answer. 

“Jeno,” the gentleness in your voice only made him gulp and look down at the floor, “I hope you don’t believe a word she says, because that’s not true,” you spoke, inching closer. 

You were not one who was good at making people feel better, Jeno of all people at that, however, this gave you an insight of why Jeno is the way he is—closed off, hence the lack of words from your side, but you knew you had to say it. 

That’s the thing, we judge people too quickly, you always had snarky remarks for him, not knowing how deep they cut him. He looked shaken right now, traumatized, especially because you experienced a part of his life which he never wanted to share with anybody. 

“Jeno, you’re doing so well, you know that right?” You whispered, as genuine as possible, your fingers grabbing his own, which made him look up at you finally. 

He was shaken, not from his mother’s words—he was used to them—but from yours. 

“No one’s ever said that,” he spoke so silently, you almost missed it. You held his hand tight—being almost angrier than him while answering his mom back—he isn’t sure if he’ll ever be over that. 

Jeno didn’t realize his eyes were glistening. 

“What?” You breathed out. 

He gulped yet again, jaw clenched now as he struggled to get his words out, the floor being the most interesting thing to him, “defended me. No one’s done that.”

“I—is that why you hate Jaehyun? Because people only see him?” You asked, wincing at the question when you saw him stiffen again, a sharp pang in your chest once he brushed your hand off of his. 

“Don’t. Don’t fucking go there.”

“I didn’t mean—” 

“Oh I fucking know what you mean. Everyone sees him fuck—you see him, because he’s perfect, right? That’s what he is, perfect,” he seethed out, “you don’t know what it’s like—to live in someone’s shadow,” there was a flash of pain in his eyes. 

You stayed mum, letting him speak. 

“Every place, every room, every fucking person just sees him,” he muttered, “I need to better, but it’s never enough, because he already did it—Jaehyun did it better. You look at him the same way as others do, and me? The afterthought—the failure.”

Your heart broke a little, guilt settling in because unknowingly, you fueled the same anger and trauma for him. 

“Jeno,” you mumbled, “you’re not a failure.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’m starting to,” you spoke, and he looked up, “and thank god you’re not Jaehyun,” you chuckled, fingers ghosting near his jaw, your touch featherlight, making him suck in a deep breath. 

“Why?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, eyes hopeful, which scared him. 

“Because you’re real, you don’t fake your emotions. You don’t smile at somebody who you don’t care about, you get angry, messy, you let yourself be shown how you are,” you lip twitched slightly as you said so, your own heartbeat rose at the sentences you so easily uttered, “that’s what makes you a human, Jeno, a human who’s trying his best, which is what matters.”

He blinked. 

He wanted to speak, but he couldn’t, simply leaning into your touch with his eyes closed. 

“You’re you, the stupid jock who’s not scared of anything, yeah?” You tried to make him smile, which helped as you saw his lips curving up. 

Midway through your sentences, you genuinely questioned yourself about why you even like Jaehyun, it was honestly just your mind playing games with you. 

“You scare me,” he muttered. 

“Why?”

“Because you say things so convincingly, it makes me wanna believe you.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Just—don’t say it when you don’t mean it.”

“I do,” you said in a breath, his eyes on yours now, more intense than ever, “I mean every word.”

He stared a little longer, staring at you unamused as if you’d laugh in his face right this second. You didn’t. 

“You’re serious,” he said, voice hoarse. 

You nodded softly. 

Jeno took a single step forward, the air around you so tight, it felt like a rubber band stretched to its max, on the verge of snapping back. 

You inhaled sharply once Jeno’s cold hand brushed the hair on your shoulder, grazing against your bare skin, moving up your nape. 

“Do you have any idea what you just said to me?” He murmured, eyes locked on yours, turning you around easily to pin you against the wall—something he liked to do, apparently. 

“Tell me,” you mumbled. 

If someone told you two days back that you’d be in Jeno’s room, calming him down before getting into a compromising position with him, you would have laughed in their faces. It was reality for you now, something that made you feel so unconventionally flustered. 

The way he brushed his thumb along your jaw, slow and deliberate, made you shiver, “you’re making me forget that i’m supposed to hate this—feeling anything.” 

You were hanging on the last bit of your sanity, drowning in Jeno’s scent, his nose brushing against your cheek, hand gripping your waist, heat radiating off of your body. 

“Jeno—”

“Say it again,” he whispered. 

“Say what?” You breathed. 

“That you’re glad I’m not him.”

You chuckled under his hold, your voice still shaking, “I’m so glad—so fucking glad you’re not him.” 

His breath sounded like a curse, lips hovering a breath above yours, you could feel his hesitation against your skin. He wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch someone as perfect as you, yet you didn’t stop him, the space in between you was so tight, it might as well elicit electricity. 

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, only leaning into his touch, resting your hand over the top of his on your jaw. The touch was faint, yet you could feel it everywhere. 

You held your breath as he leaned in—

Knock. 

Jeno swore under his breath as you flinched, it physically hurt him to step back. 

“Jeno?” Of course, it was Jaehyun who had to interrupt you two. 

Your hands trembled as Jeno moved to the door, and you quickly turned towards the desk, rushing to sit down, pretending that nothing had happened—that you didn’t almost kiss Jeno a few seconds back. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, eyes furious with a hint of daze in them. “Yeah?” His voice came out strained as he asked Jaehyun through the door. 

“Mom wants to talk to you,” He said.

“Be right down,” he answered, shaking his head, staring at your way one last time, holding eye contact for a second, letting you see just how much he hated this situation, veins popping in his neck.

Then he opened the door, closing it behind him and disappearing from your eyesight. 

You stayed there, overwhelmed, lips tingling, pulse racing. 

A truth burned your skin in an excruciating pain. 

If he had kissed you, you wouldn’t have stopped him. 

Chapter 6: I can go from A to Z, but U is what I want. 

Jeno hadn’t texted you all night. 

Not that you waited, except, you did. 

He never came back to the room after Jaehyun called him out, you waited, till you couldn’t anymore and had to rush out before your mind drove you to the edge of insanity. 

So you grabbed your bag, rushing to the first place you thought of—the courtyard behind the Science block. It was calm, no student in sight, thankfully. 

Your five minutes of calm ended a second too quickly, a voice calling out your name in its full glory. You cursed the universe for treating you like this and you didn’t have to turn around to figure out who it was.

Jaemin. 

“I gotta admit, I didn’t peg you to fall for the broken type.” He stepped out smiling as insane as a villain who hasn’t moved on does. 

“Still stalking me?” You rolled your eyes, “get a fucking job.”

“I call it being invested,” he smirked, shoving hands in his pockets, “it’s honestly a downgrade, going from me to Jeno.”

“Not again,” you muttered, grabbing your book which you had just taken out. 

“I mean, trading me for Jeno?” Voice full of pity. 

“As if you were an option, Jaemin,” you turned sharply. 

That shut him up for half a second.

“I just don’t get it,” he said, voice colder now. “He’s always angry, I was angry, I made you feel something, can he say the same?”

Your head was hurting by now, as you mumbled yet another shut up, only to be stopped by Jaemin as he grabbed your arm. 

“What? He’s the angry, tortured type. You’re into hopeless projects now?”

“I’m into honesty,” you snapped, “something you don’t offer.”

“What does he have that I don’t?”

“Self awareness maybe,” a voice came from behind you, low, cold, almost lethal. 

Jeno was here. 

“Let go of her,” he said, dead-eyed, he was ready to snap. 

And Jaemin did, a scoff leaving his mouth before he smirked, “great, speak of the devil.”

Jeno raised his brow, “you done?”

Jaemin chuckled, “not even close.”

You sighed, “of course not,” this day couldn’t get worse. 

“You really think this is love or whatever?” He said, looking at Jeno but his words were directed to you instead, “he’s gonna burn you someday, and you’re gonna let him.” 

Oh god, you were not having any of this, why was this conversation even happening? It made absolutely no sense. 

Jeno moved faster this time, but you blocked his chest with your arms, “enough,” you said sharply. 

“Ask him to leave.” Jeno said, voice low. 

“Jaemin, just leave,” you said, turning to him. 

But he didn’t, and so Jeno did, shoving past you as you rolled your eyes, Jaemin’s sinister smile only widening, getting so close to him, he had to lean back slightly. 

“Don’t test me, and don’t come near her again, or else I won’t be this patient.” Jeno spoke. 

“Aw? You’re gonna hit me in front of her, Jeno?”

“I don’t need to, she already cut you deeper than I ever could.” 

Jaemin blinked, clenching his jaw, before turning to you, maintaining eye contact, “she’s not your girl, Jeno.”

“You don’t know that,” he gritted his teeth. 

“You’ll come back,” Jaemin’s jaw ticked as he said so. 

“Hold your breath until I do,” you replied.

That was it, he left. It wasn’t silent, nor dramatic, but with enough tension to let you know that he will be coming back. 

Once he was gone, you shoved Jeno, hard. 

“The fuck was that?”

“What? I came here trying to find you, only to witness you talking to him.”

“I didn’t want it to happen either, but the world hates me,” you mumbled, grabbing your bag and walking away with Jeno following you behind. 

“I fucking hate that he still gets to talk to you, why does he have access to you?” His voice rose and you prayed no one would hear him, thankfully this area was empty. 

“He doesn’t, and why do you even care?” You asked, with distress clear on your face, “pretending like I mean something to you in front of Jaemin is just as worse, Jeno.” 

“I—”

“No, you won’t even talk about last night, as if it didn’t happen,” you snapped and he froze, “you didn’t even come back to your room.”

His silence was your answer, and you knew this conversation wasn’t gonna go any further, Jeno couldn’t do that—he was scared of opening up, and he was scared of answering those questions, so even though you were hurting on the inside, you let him be. 

“Tomorrow, library, at five. Be on time.” You mumbled, leaving him behind you. 

“Fuck—fuck!” Jeno punched the wall next to him. He didn’t want you to go—the first person who ever tried to understand him, took his side, defended him. He was beyond scared of letting his guard down, so he groaned, sliding down the wall. 

“How do I even tell you I want you?”

Chapter 7: I stayed, even when it was easier to run.

The library was too quiet for how loud your mind was. The sound of your pen dragging across the paper felt almost intrusive as you tried to finish your assignment. 

It had been three nights since the library fiasco. 

Two nights since the almost kiss. 

One night since the blow up with Jaemin.

You almost didn’t wish to come here, yet here you were, with the sample test papers ready, clad in your little black skirt, a cardigan too loose for you, waiting for Jeno to show up—hoping he would. 

The clock ticked. He was a solid nineteen minutes late now, another minute and you’ll get up to leave. That’s when you heard the lazy footsteps approaching your side, the farthest corner of the library. You expected him to sit in front of you, yet he opted to sit right next to you, so close you could feel the fabric of his jeans brushing against your thigh. He took a seat without permission, like he had the right to be, like nothing had happened. 

He came in like guilt personified, shoulders hunched, hoodie loose, hair an unbrushed mess of indecision. And when he saw you?

He hesitated.

You didn’t look up, simply sliding him the sheet of questions to solve, the air around you turned weighted. His pen scratched, your leg bounced, you sipped water and he watched the corner of your mouth, practically burning holes into you. 

It was unbearable. 

This tension—it’s not a war but there’s rarely ever any peace. Catherine and Heathcliff reincarnated, except you weren’t on a moor, you were in a library, trying not to fall apart across the wooden study table. 

Just yesterday, he burned through Jaemin like jealousy was oxygen. 

He couldn’t stop staring, yet he solved the questions for forty minutes, sliding the sheet back to you for checking, expecting some sort of conversation now, anything, even a little hum of acknowledgement from your side, but none of it happened. 

He watched you scribble your pen over the margin, circling a few things, ticking the others, lip bitten in concentration. He observed you so intensely, how your eyes flicked across his answer sheet, but you didn’t look his way, not even once. 

“You won’t even talk to me now?” He asked, keeping his voice in check. 

“Four answers wrong, you did pretty well, can do better still,” you mumbled, passing him the paper. 

“Y/N,” he sighed, tired, he was afraid of this happening—letting you down, and that’s exactly what he did. Running away from his problems was what Jeno always did, he wasn’t perfect, he knows it, but he wants to try and be better, better for you. 

“You came late,” you said, still not looking up. 

“I didn’t sleep last night,” he exhaled, jaw clenched. 

“Not my problem,” you retorted. 

“I was thinking.”

“You should study instead.”

“You hate me now, huh?” Jeno leaned forward, voice flat. 

You blinked. The question hit out of nowhere.

“I don’t hate you,” you replied carefully. “But I don’t know how to deal with you either.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No, Jeno. It’s the truth. And that’s more than you’ve been giving me.”

He looked at you then, really looked—eyes narrowed, jaw tight, like he was keeping a war behind his teeth. His eyes were empty, yet so full of you. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said, quietly. “I don’t know how to be—good at this, with you.”

“And yet you’re good at disappearing. You’re good at leaving me hanging like none of it mattered.”

You weren’t yelling. You didn’t need to. Your disappointment was louder than any raised voice.

Jeno sat back in his chair, breathing shallow. “You kissed me back.”

Your throat tightened, “you didn’t kiss me at all.”

“Exactly,” he muttered. “Because I would’ve ruined it. Ruined you.”

You shook your head slowly. “No, Jeno. You didn’t kiss me because you’re scared of how much you want to.”

His hands balled into fists. “And you’re not?”

“We’re not talking about me.” You looked away. 

He scoffed, turning to look at you fully, leaning in with his hand now resting on your thigh, burning the skin with his touch. 

“You want honesty, huh? So here it is—I’ve been thinking about you, about everything that’s happened in the past few days, no one’s ever messed with my mind so much and it fucking scares me. You’re messing me up—”

You couldn’t hear more, not when he was so close, not when he poured his heart out to you. Nothing about you two was normal, even your heartbeat was synced with how abnormally high they were. 

“Shh,” you mumbled, covering his mouth with your palm, and even the rude gesture calmed him down—your touch calmed him down. 

“You have an exam tomorrow.” You said and he stared, “study, pass the exam, and we’ll talk, yeah?”

He blinked, almost as if you showed him mercy, and gave him a chance to do something, to prove that he’s worthy of being near you. His scholarship, football, future—everything was at stake, but did he care? No. He cared about not letting you down. He wanted to prove himself to you. 

“You—you promise?” He asked, gripping the extra sheets and notes you passed his way.

You nodded, eyes softer now. You didn’t wanna hurt Jeno, you could see just how hard he tried to fight with his demons, but this time, you wanted him to win.

“I’ll be waiting.” 

You turned to leave then, leaving Jeno with his thoughts as he watched you leave, eyes on your legs. He gulped, looking back to the paper to find a line scribbled in your handwriting. 

You already know the answer, you’re just afraid of getting it wrong. 

It wasn’t about the question, it was about him. 

He just wanted to be worthy enough to stand in front of you and say I didn’t fuck this up this time. So he started, he worked all night, solved as many sample problems as he could, everything felt like a punch in the gut but he couldn’t give up, not this time. 

Jeno couldn’t sleep at night, 

I’ll be waiting. 

That’s what you told him, and he was looking forward to it, because for the very first time in his life, someone wasn’t waiting for him to fail. 

He woke up before his alarm had the chance to ring, didn’t care about his mother’s remark on how he woke up on time for once, or how Jaehyun gave him a long, unreadable look. Jeno didn’t react, he had bigger problems to tackle today. 

You were just as restless as him if not more, checking your phone every few minutes as if you’d get any text from Jeno. He must be busy studying, you hope that was the case. 

He walked into the exam hall calm, focused, terrified. He didn’t skip questions. He didn’t zone out.

He solved the final problem two minutes before time and rechecked every line like his life was hidden in the margins.

When he walked out of that room, his shirt clinging to the back of his neck from sweat, his palms aching from gripping the pen too hard—he knew. He’d done it. Or at least, he hoped he did. 

Yet, he didn’t text you, he wouldn’t until he got the results. 

Chapter 8: Jealousy is but a red thread around my throat. 

You waited, not loud, but silently. 

Two whole days, you held your breath, even planned on visiting the football practice to just get a glimpse of Jeno, yet you couldn’t muster enough courage to do so. God, you were so affected by everything he did, and this felt so very suffocating, waiting on someone. You knew what you felt, there was no point in denying it, however, you couldn’t figure out how it happened, so quickly at that. 

Heck, even Jaemin was more present in your chat inbox, even though you never replied to him, it just made you wonder if your time with Jeno was just a hoax. 

Did you imagine it all? 

On the other hand, on the other side of the city, sitting in a dim room with sunlight pouring in, Jeno was drowning in darkness. 

The exam portal was open in front of him, he refreshed the page every two seconds, not being able to sit still. His hands were shaking, not from fear but from want.  From the feeling of your voice telling him that you’ll talk to him once he proves himself. 

He gave up the wait, the result wasn’t out the whole day. It was three in the morning when the notification woke him up like a jolt. 

Results were out. 

He rushed to check it, the numbers stunning him as his jaw hung open. 

83%

Not perfect. But more than enough.

Enough to pass. Enough to stay on the team.

Enough to say, Look. I did it. I’m not a fuck-up. The first thing he thought of was you. So he typed—just two words.

Jeno: I passed.

Because he didn’t know how to say what he really wanted to—I passed, and all I could think about was your voice. I passed, and I still don’t feel whole unless you tell me you’re proud. I passed, and it’s not enough if I can’t show you.

Your reply came back six minutes later.

You: I knew you would. 

It was soft, gentle. But was it enough for Jeno? No. It should’ve been enough, but it wasn’t. 

He didn’t reply, he didn’t text you again. He opted to skip the lectures for the day and stay in his room, blinds closed, only darkness consuming him. 

You knew it was hard for Jeno, you knew you shouldn’t wait for his reply or him approaching you—he was too scared to do that, which is exactly why you grabbed your bag and went to his place the first thing in the morning. Maybe Jeno needed time, but you had to check. 

You rang the bell, your heart pounding as you did so, expecting Jeno to open up and see you. Once the door opened, your pulse stuttered. 

Jaehyun. 

Of course, it had to be him. 

“Y/N,” he said your name smoothly, “didn’t know you were coming by.”

You hesitated with a small chuckle, exhaling the breath you were holding, “is Jeno home?” 

He nodded, stepping aside to let you in, “yeah, he’s in his room, didn’t come out this morning at all.”

“Oh,” you said softly, wondering if he was alright. 

There was a pause, an awkward silence after that, you felt heavy, wanting to go upstairs but you weren’t sure if you were allowed to. 

Jaehyun closed the door behind you. “He’s been off since the results,” he said, voice low. “I thought passing would help, but I don’t know. He kind of shut down again after telling us he passed.”

You gulped, chest tightened at the revelation. 

“I came to check up on him, I’m not sure if he wants to meet though.”

“He’d want to see you.” Jaehyun said, smiling sincerely, “you’re good for him.”

Your eyes widened at that, “I’m not sure he thinks that.” You tried to smile, “can I go to his room?”

“He locked the door, I think he’s sleeping,” Jaehyun said apologetically. 

“I don’t wanna bother him.” You smiled sadly, “those are good pictures,” you mumbled, looking at the wall full of frames, particularly the ones with Jeno in them.

“Yeah, I took most of those,” Jaehyun replied with another smile, he knew you wanted to talk to Jeno so he suggested something, “Maybe if you take him something to eat? I can give the breakfast he skipped—”

“Oh no, I can run to the bakery and get something—”

Then you noticed a movement in your peripheral vision, you turned around to find Jeno. He was standing down the hall, his fluffy hair a mess, eyes wide as if he didn’t expect you to be here—especially with Jaehyun. 

“Hey,” you breathed out. 

No reply. 

“Y—you didn’t reply, I came to see you,” you tried speaking again. 

However, his expression didn’t change and suddenly, you felt like you shouldn’t have come here at all. He was frozen even when you said you wanted to make sure he was okay. Then he came back to his senses, clearing his throat. 

Jaehyun left the room, letting you two be alone. 

“Why didn’t you ask for me?” He whispered, just sadness in his voice. 

“I did, that’s what I came for,” you tried to explain.

Jeno stared at you, he was so broken inside he couldn’t let himself believe it. You dressed up, all pretty, your eyes so soft, your lips turning into a pout of disappointment. You looked perfect, and you came here for Jeno? He just could not believe it. 

“You were talking to him,” Jeno said, referring to Jaehyun, his voice broken. 

“He opened the door, what can I do?” You shook your head, trying to explain, “you didn’t even text back, Jeno.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he replied, “I’ve never done this before. I’ve never had someone wait for me and mean it.”

Your lips parted to reply but he wasn’t done. 

“You said you’d talk to me after the exam,” he went on, voice sharper now, “but when you showed up, you let him open the door. You let him tell you how I was.”

“I didn’t—” your voice faltered, “I didn’t come for him.”

“Didn’t look that way.”

That hurt. You flinched. “Jeno, why are you doing this?” 

“Because I waited for you,” he snapped. “I sat in that room like a fucking idiot thinking you’d come to see me. Not make small talk with my brother or compliment his photography.”

“You heard that?” You froze, it wasn’t your intention to do any of that. 

“I heard everything, every second you spent without taking my name,” he said. 

Just like that—he hurt you. Every conversation was about Jeno, every single one. He just couldn’t see it. 

“I thought I was getting better,” he admitted, quieter now. “I thought passing the exam would mean something. That it would be enough.”

“It was,” you whispered. “Jeno, it is. I am proud of you.”

“Then why didn’t it feel like it?” His voice broke on that line. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a step away, then back, like his own body was a prison.

You stood frozen. Every word hit somewhere different.

“I wanted you to come,” he said, softer now. “Not to check in. Not to ask if I’d eaten. I wanted you to come for me. Just for me. You don’t get it, Y/N.”

“No,” you stepped forward. “You don’t get it. You think everything is about being chosen or abandoned. But not everyone’s trying to leave you, Jeno. Sometimes people show up. But you keep slamming the door in their face.”

He turned away. “Then go.”

“I came for you.” You said one last time, your eyes watering, not being able to contain the hurt you held in them. 

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have.”

That one landed like a punch.

Your mouth opened. Then closed. You nodded. Just once.

“Fine.”

You turned.

And you left.

And this time, he didn’t stop you.

Chapter 9: I know that I’m hard to read, but you got me here to stay 

You spent most of your morning crying alone in your student council room, but it just wasn’t enough, not when you were being wronged every second of the day, not when the person you wanted kept running away from you no matter how hard you tried. At least you did. 

You couldn’t run away though, you had an important meeting with your council at six in the evening, by that time, you had done everything to make yourself look normal again, but your mind was entirely elsewhere, in another realm, a realm where things were different. 

Jeno, on the other hand, left his room as soon as he realized how wrong everything had gone. All afternoon his own words replayed in his mind, how he asked you to leave and how you left a single tear drop on the floor before you turned around and left. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have.

It felt like biting into something rotten, saying that out loud to you. Like watching the one and the only thing he wanted turn and walk away. You didn’t yell back, you didn’t beg, you went still, and left. He saw you leave—he made you leave. 

And he let you go anyway. Because that’s what he did. Because pushing people away was easier than asking them to stay.

Until now.

Now he was pacing in his room like a caged animal, hoodie still damp, heart in his throat. He kept hearing your voice in the hallway. Kept seeing your face. Kept remembering the way you reached for him and he didn’t reach back.

His chest felt tight, his limbs tense. He couldn’t stay here, not in this house, not knowing you might never come back.

He had to find you.

So he ran. He ran to the courtyard, not caring about the rain pour, soaking him up from head to toe. You weren’t in the library, not in the council room, the classrooms were empty. He was panicking. 

That’s when he heard a voice, turning around the corner of the athletic department, he walked straight into one of his football teammates he couldn’t stand at all—Minjae, a loud-mouthed asshole, smiling like a madman. 

“Fucking hell, Lee Jeno, you look like shit.” He grinned. 

Jeno didn’t answer, he was in a hurry, he had to find you, to make things right with you, he was about to push past Minjae when—

“Oh, by the way,” he smirked, “Jaemin told us a lot about how you finally landed his ex, the pretty goody two shoes, Y/N.”

Jeno froze, jaw clenched at the mention of you and Jaemin in the same sentence, coming from an asshole at that. 

“Didn’t think you’d have a go at someone like her. She seems to like guys who have more brains than biceps.” He laughed at his own joke. 

“The fuck did you just say?” 

Minjae laughed. “Chill, man. I’m just saying—props to you, seriously. Girl like that? All polished and pretty and loyal? I mean, not that it’ll last. Girls like that don’t stay with guys like us. She’ll figure it out eventually.”

Jeno’s vision turned black.

“Say that again,” he said, voice like static.

Minjae raised his hands. “Relax. You don’t need to get all—”

The punch landed before he could finish.

Minjae hit the ground hard, water splashing up from the impact, the rain pouring down heavier now. He tried to shove Jeno back, but to no avail as he bent down, his fist colliding with Minjae’s jaw again.  

Jeno wasn’t fighting Minjae per se, he was fighting every single voice that told him he wasn’t enough, that he could never live up to his brother, that he could never be with someone as perfect as you. That’s what he believed too, till you actually became real for him. 

His mind was elsewhere when he took a blow to his jaw, lip bleeding now, Jeno stumbled but scoffed before punching him again, and again, till his knuckles were shredded, a throbbing in his jaw which almost felt like fire. 

It was only when someone pulled him off of Minjae, Jeno stopped, spitting out blood in the rain slick grass. Everything hurt, but not as much as his burning chest. 

“Are you insane?” Someone yelled his way, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jeno didn’t bother answering, pulling out his phone and rushing away, typing out texts to you. 

Jeno: where are you? please say something i’m so fucking sorry Y/N i didn’t mean it  i didn’t mean any of it i swear Y/N please 

No response. His messages were just there, unread, and unanswered. He simply didn’t know why. 

He didn’t know how you had been in the private meeting room for the past hour, student council prep being a whole scheduling disaster, handling arguments about clubs and their out-of-the-worldly budget demands. 

You were half awake at best, distracted by the storm that brewed outside. Your phone vibrates once, then again, and when you finally pull it out to check the numerous missed calls—your screen goes dark. Perfect, just on the day you didn’t bring your charger or powerbank. 

The feeling in your gut—it wasn’t good, which is why you excused yourself mid meeting, something you never do, to rush back home. You were soaked as you ran to your apartment, close to the University, thankfully. You plugged your phone in to charge as you rushed to take a shower, hoping the hot water would soothe your nerves. It didn’t. 

You kept thinking about Jeno, about the fight at his place earlier, how he asked you to leave with the saddest look in his eyes, and how badly it hurt you. You were out of the shower in fifteen minutes, toweling your hair with one hand and rushing to check your phone with the other, not expecting a myriad of notifications. 

17 Missed calls. 

6 Voicemails. 

26 Unread texts. 

The last of which made your blood run cold. 

Jeno: Y/N please  i’m outside 

You rushed to the front door, and he was there—leaning against the wall beside your entrance, hoodie clinging to him, hair wet and plastered to his forehead, eyes closed and him wincing like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. Like it hurts too much to exist. Hands bruised, lip split, and he opened his eyes—bloodshot, glassy. 

“Jeno,” you gasped out loud, “w—what happened?” You said, going close to him. 

“I tried to find you,” he said, voice wrecked, “I tried but I couldn’t, I thought that maybe you blocked me.”

“No—I was in a meeting and my phone died, god I’m so sorry—fuck, come inside.” You shook your head in distress.

“Y/N,” he groaned, and you gently helped him when he didn’t move, like he wasn’t allowed to, “I fucked up.”

“Shh, come inside, it’s cold,” you whispered and he nodded after a moment of hesitation. You tried to be calm, you tried to take control of the situation for once and he listened, this time he did when you took him to your room. 

You didn’t ask how this happened to him, only guiding him to the bathroom, “you’re soaked and bleeding, take a shower, i’ll put your clothes in the wash and dryer.”

He opened his mouth to say otherwise, but you didn’t let him, grabbing a fresh towel and handing it to him. 

“Are you sure you want me here?” He asked, vulnerable. 

“I wouldn’t have opened the door otherwise, Jeno, I do.”

He nodded, swallowing hard as he disappeared into the bathroom without another word and you worked your washing machine and dryer, sitting down right after, exhaling and letting your guard down, hands shaking with worry. 

You were glad Jeno was taking his sweet time inside, because you had no clue how to go on with this situation. Jeno stalling coming out simply because he was ashamed, also consumed in how good your shampoo smells. He was at your place, in your bathroom, all bloodied up, why? Because he couldn’t be normal for once and let you in. 

His walls came crashing down each time you came closer to him, but this time, he didn’t want them to go back up the second he touched you, this time, he wanted you inside with him. 

His clothes were dry very soon and you kept them in your room, waiting outside by the sofa, letting him come out all dressed up. The water stopped soon, the door creaking as he came out, and you were sitting on the sofa, hair still wet. 

Then Jeno opened the door, you stood up at the noise, and he looked your way in a silent plea to ask you if he could sit next to you, and you nodded. He held up the bloodied towel, “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and you smiled softly, taking it away from him. 

The silence was too loud after as you both sat next to each other, you waited for him to say something, waited for the reality of tonight to settle in—to make sense, to stop trembling beneath your skin. And then he spoke as you took out your medicine kit, gently grabbing his hand to take a look at his bruised knuckles. 

“Y/N,” he took your name as if it was the only thing he knew. 

He watched you kneel in front of him, your eyes not angry, just steady, quiet, and unbearably kind. His fingers trembled in yours, you gently pulled the sleeve back, pressing a warm damp cloth to the wounds, making him wince slightly at the contact. 

“Sorry,” you breathed out. 

“I deserve worse,” he breathed back. 

“No, you don’t,” you said, looking up at him. 

He laughed under his breath, “why are you so kind to me? I don’t deserve it, Y/N.”

“You don’t get to decide what I give you, Jeno,” you replied, “you’re bleeding, again.”

“Not my first time.”

You gripped him tighter, “and that’s supposed to make it better?”

“No,” he said, voice low, “just means I’m good at it by now.”

You didn’t answer. Just ripped the antiseptic packet open a little more forcefully than necessary and pressed it to the bruised line of his knuckles. He flinched.

“Good,” you muttered. “Means you still feel something.”

“God, Y/N—”

“No,” you snapped, trying your best to act normal but you both were far from that, “not yet.”

You cleaned the split in his skin with the kind of precision that only comes from anger—controlled, careful, but deeply furious.

“You don’t get to act like none of this mattered,” you said, eyes locked on his wounds. “You don’t get to disappear into your guilt and then show up bleeding and say I didn’t know where else to go. That’s not enough.”

His jaw clenched. “I didn’t come for a reward.”

“Good,” you said coldly. “Because you’re not getting one.” You wrapped gauze around his hand slowly, tight enough that it would sting.

He didn’t pull away.

“I came because I thought I’d lose you,” he said through his teeth, “I came because I’m fucking terrified that I already did.”

“Who’s fault is that?” You said, standing up, “you keep doing this thing, you pull me in, let me see you and then the very second it gets real, you shut the door in my face.”

“I know,” he said. Loud. Frustrated. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see the way you look at me when I say the wrong thing? Like you’re trying so fucking hard not to walk away?”

“You told me to go!”

“I didn’t mean it!”

“Then don’t say it!” You shouted, “don’t look at me like I’m everything one second and then act like I mean nothing the next!”

“I didn’t think you’d stay.”

“I stayed!”

You were both breathing hard now. Staring at each other like you didn’t know whether to cry or kiss or throw something, You still stood in between Jeno’s legs, him looking up at you.  Jeno ran a hand through his damp hair, pacing a few feet before turning back to you, eyes wide and glassy.

“I ruin things,” he said, “I always have. I don’t know how to love something without fucking it up. But I wanted you anyway—I still do.”

Your throat tightened. “And I’m supposed to what? Carry all of that? Be your exception?”

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I just need you to see that I’m trying. Even if it’s ugly. Even if I’m bleeding and loud and afraid. I need you to see me, and stay anyway.”

You stared at him.

He looked like someone who hadn’t slept in days. Someone who’d gone through hell and walked straight into another fire because you were at the center of it.

Your voice cracked, “you don’t make it easy.”

“I know.”

You looked down at your hands—his blood still faintly on your fingertips. He reached out slowly. You didn’t move. Not when his fingers curled around your wrist. Not when he pulled you in his lap, not when his forehead leaned into yours like he was holding on for dear life.

“I hate that I hurt you,” he whispered. “But I’d rather burn with you than freeze without you.”

“I wasn’t gonna leave, Jeno.”

“I know.”

“Then why—”

“Because I’m sick,” he said suddenly. “Sick of being the one who’s always too much. Too angry. Too wrong. I get one thing right—one fucking exam—and even then I screw it up by throwing a punch at someone who talks shit about you and then picking a fight with the only person who’s ever actually looked at me like I could be more.”

Your breath hitched. You grabbed the gauze, wrapped it around his hand. Tighter than needed.

“Then be more, Jeno.”

He stared at you.

“Be more,” you repeated, “because I’m tired of being in love with someone who’s so determined to hate himself.”

That silenced him. Fully. Until he spoke again.

“You’re in love with me?”

The words dropped like a bomb between you.

You froze. Swallowed. Refused to take it back, chuckling to yourself at how easily you let go and told him that, “yeah—god help me, I am.”

Then you tried to move back, only his arms wrapped around your waist tighter, holding you in place, “you don’t get to say that and walk away.” He growled. 

“Who said I’m walking away?” You mumbled, holding onto his shoulder for support. 

It was unreal, how close you guys were but still not close enough, it was never enough. 

“You’re mad at me,” Jeno stated. 

“I should be mad.” 

“I’m mad too,” he added. 

“Good,” you rolled your eyes, trying to move again.

But he didn’t let you, not this time, his thumb brushing your cheek. 

That was it. That was when Jeno finally let go. He couldn’t delay this anymore, not again, not when you were right in front of him, not when your soft lips brushed so tenderly against his bruised ones, not when you told him you were in love with him—not when he knew he had to have you. 

He surged up and into you—hands gripping your face, mouth pressing against yours like it was the only way to breathe. It wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t neat, it was everything you’d been holding back.

Lips slotted together, you could taste blood on your tongue from where he was hurt before, which only made you groan into the kiss, he was frustrated, so frustrated, not having it in him to let go for even a second. 

You gasped, arms flying up to clutch at his shoulders, pressed chest-to-chest, his body was warm—too warm—and you could feel his tension in every line.

You broke the kiss first, panting, eyes wide. “You shouldn’t—” you tried to say, especially when his body was hurting. 

“I have to,” he breathed, leaning in again. “Let me, just once. Please.”

You didn’t stop him, grabbing his nape and pulling him into you once again, because when Jeno kissed you again, it felt like pain, penance, and pleasure all in one. It was as if he was trying to earn your forgiveness with his mouth, trying to pour out everything he couldn’t say to you, groaning into your mouth when your hips shifted over his lap. 

“I fucking—” He said midway the kiss, “god I—”

You shushed him gently, “you don’t have to say it.”

“I love you,” he breathed out, forehead pressed against yours, eyes earnest and full of life for the first time since you saw him, “I don’t care if it’s too early, I can’t fucking not say it, I love you, I—”

Before he could ruin the moment with the spiral in his throat, before he could pull back in fear, you pressed your lips against his like it was the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

He responded like he’d been starving. Mouth hot, desperate, hands gripping your waist like the world was falling apart and he only had seconds left to memorize you. The kiss was brutal in the way it made you feel, there was no choreography to it, no elegance—just lips, teeth, breath, and aching hunger.

His mouth was swollen. Your lips, bruised from how much he kissed you like he didn’t know how to stop.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed.

You stared at him. “I don’t want you to.”

Then you grabbed his jaw once you heard him wince, “does it hurt?” You asked, pecking his jaw, trailing kisses all over. 

“It’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt,” he whispered, letting your lips take over, tracing every bit of his face and neck, his eyes closing with the fire that you ignited within him. 

“This feels like a dream,” he whispered.

“It’s not.”

“But it could be,” he added, almost to himself. “You—like this, in my lap, in your apartment, touching me like I’m not a monster.”

You cupped his face again, guiding his eyes to yours, “you’re not a monster, Jeno.”

“You don’t know the things I’ve thought.”

“Then tell me.”

His voice cracked, “I thought I’d die if I didn’t see you again. I thought that maybe I’m already ruined and maybe I don’t deserve you but I can’t stop loving you anyway. I thought—”

You kissed him again. Slow this time. Deep and aching, “then stop thinking,” you whispered, “just be here—with me.”

His fingers trembled as they curled into the hem of your shirt.

“Can I?”

You nodded.

He pulled the fabric up carefully, reverently, and you helped him, raising your arms until it was off. His breath hitched. Not because of how you looked—but because he was looking at you like that.

Like something sacred.

You grabbed the back of his hoodie, tugging. He hesitated for a split second before pulling it over his head. The sight made your breath catch.

His torso was littered with bruises, some dark purple, some fading yellow. His ribcage dipped where the muscle was taut with tension. You reached out, fingertips grazing over a particularly harsh mark near his side.

He flinched. “That one’s from earlier.”

Your jaw clenched, “you shouldn’t fight because of me.”

“I wasn’t,” he said, “I was fighting every voice in my head that said I wasn’t worth your love.”

You kissed the bruise.

He gasped.

“I hate that they ever made you feel like that.”

His hands slid back up to your sides, lips brushing your jaw. “You make it go quiet.”

“I want to,” you whispered.

Your kisses grew slow again, heavier with emotion than desire. You could feel his heartbeat where your chest pressed into his, your hands in his hair, his head tilted just enough to deepen the kiss. You rolled your hips slightly in his lap, and he groaned again, burying his face in your neck.

“Fuck, Y/N—”

“Jeno,” you murmured, your nails dragging softly along his back, “look at me.”

He lifted his head. His eyes—wild, glassy, full of everything he couldn’t say.

“I love you,” you said again. “I’m not afraid of it. So don’t be either.”

He leaned forward, pressing your foreheads together. 

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“You’re so fucking pretty, did I ever tell you that?” He mumbled against the skin of your neck, brushing his lips all over before placing open mouthed kisses over the expanse of your clavicle, “so fucking pretty.”

Jeno wasn’t gentle anymore, not when he’d been craving your presence, craving you. He couldn’t help but treat you like a reward, like he finally had won the only thing in life that actually mattered to him. 

He was quick to grab your waist and flip you over, getting on top of you on the couch that was too small for things he had planned in his mind. It was almost like a dam breaking the way his mouth was on your neck, biting, sucking, claiming you. 

“Jeno—” you mumbled, your back arching as you felt his body pressing into you, fingers wrapped around his wet locks as he marked your skin with every ounce of desperation he had, his fingers mapping out every inch of your body as if he’s afraid he’d forget it—as if he could ever forget anything about you. 

The warmth of his hands brushed over your bra clad nipples, a whimper leaving your mouth. Jeno wasn’t undressed yet you could feel him getting hard, and god you wondered just how big he was, grinding into you as if he was already inside your cunt. 

“I hurt you so fucking much,” Jeno mumbled, lips ghosting over your tit, “now I’ll hurt you in the way you want me to,” he said with dark eyes, yanking your bra down enough for your nipples to show, latching his mouth to you all in light speed. 

All his life Jeno couldn’t take control of anything, but seeing you shiver under him just made sense to Jeno, he had to take control—he had to make you feel so good, you wouldn’t ever look at anyone else. 

“You’re fucking crazy,” you whispered, already disheveled with how needy you were, wetness pooling in your panties, soiling the new pair you had put on not too long ago. 

“Yeah? You drive me crazy, baby,” he chuckled, and that sound went straight to your pussy. Jeno was hot, so fucking hot, but him using nicknames on you with his deep tone—only god knows how you would survive this. 

You bit your lip to conceal your moans, which only infuriated Jeno, biting your nipple harshly to make sure you scream, “don’t fucking hide your pretty voice,” he said. 

His hands went to your other breast and he gave it a tight squeeze, your eyes were on him as you watched his lips parting, letting his tongue make contact with the tip of your very hardened nub. He bites down on your nipple, making you cry out, but quickly soothes it with his tongue before switching to the other side, he wants to drive you wild with pleasure, to possess every inch of your body.

Lost in the haze of pleasure, you surrender yourself completely to Jeno’s possessive touches, letting him have his way with you. The room fills with the sounds of your moans and his desperate sucking, a symphony of carnal desire. In this moment, there is nothing but you and Jeno, and the burning hunger that consumes you both. 

Jeno’s hands roam across your body, his touch electric against your skin. He grabs your hips, pulling you flush against him as he claims your lips in yet another searing kiss, tongue delving into your mouth, hot and hungry, making you more hungry for his touch—for him. 

“I—can’t,” you whimpered, wanting more of him. 

Jeno chuckled, “can’t even speak now, hm? What happened to the feisty lil’ girl who couldn’t shut up?” 

“Fuck, shut up,” you mumbled, tugging on his hair harder, which only made him groan and squeeze your tits harder, coming up to brush his lips against yours, hot breaths intertwining as he smirks, hand travelling down your body, very close to the hem of your shorts. 

“Want me to shut up?” He asked, squeezing your neck with slight pressure, your mouth opening in a gasp—he took the opportunity to spit in your mouth, watching your eyes widen as watches you gulp it down, “good fucking girl,” he mumbles. 

You were too gone to function anymore and you had just started, but you knew one thing—whatever Jeno wanted, you’d let him do it to you. 

That man was no less than a Greek god with how sharp his features looked, especially in the dim light of the room, muscles flexing, abs on full display as he held himself up on top of you to press kisses all over. 

In a swift second, he pulled you up to unclasp your bra, throwing it away somewhere to continue pressing hot mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts, and down your tummy, caressing it with the pad of his thumb, spending a good few seconds covering the expanse of your skin. 

You breathed harder once he reached the waistband of your shorts, his hooded eyes, almost drunk, looking up at you before he swiftly pulled them down, throwing them on the floor somewhere.

He couldn’t be gentle even if he tried, not when he was this thirsty, holding your legs open as he settled in the limited space that the couch held for him. Madman—that’s what he was and you couldn’t help but moan when he got closer to your panty clad cunt, burying his nose in the wet fabric, sniffing the scent of your arousal, groaning as he locked your thighs under his arms, which flexed harder now. 

You moaned his name as if a broken record repeating the same thing over and over again and he only mumbled things you couldn’t hear in your cunt, licking the already wet cloth, biting his lip at the first taste of you, “fuck—you’re so fucking perfect,” he says licking you harder, kissing your inner thighs alongside, leaving bites all over—he was feral. 

He slid your panties to the side, and the sight he had in front of him drove him to the edge. Jeno was an impatient man, yes, he was messy, he was not the softest, but seeing you like this just made him realize how much crazier he could be. 

That first taste emboldens him and he dives in like a man starved, lapping at your folds like he’s trying to consume you entirely. 

His desperate tongue delves deep inside, fucking you with rapid strokes and curling to hit your sweet spot. You cry out sharply at the intense sensation, fingers tangling in his tousled raven hair to hold him in place. He grips your thighs tightly, holding you down and open for his onslaught as he devours you. 

Jeno zeroes in on your clit, flicking and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves rapidly. Your back arches off the couch as he suckles hard on the throbbing bud, two fingers pumping inside your clenching hole.

“Fuck—Jeno, I’m gonna cum!” You wail, thighs trembling violently around his head as your climax approaches rapidly. He doubles his efforts, fucking you harder with his fingers and lashing your clit mercilessly with his tongue.

He curls his fingers to stroke your G-spot with every thrust, drawing out more of your copious arousal to lap up greedily. Your walls start to flutter and clench around him as the pressure builds unbearably.

 Jeno chuckled, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. “You like that, baby?” He practically purred, before sucking your clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. 

“Fuck—yes,” you gasped, your head falling back against the couch. Jeno was relentless, his tongue exploring every inch of you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, your thighs trembling as you stared at the ceiling with your mouth open, desperate for air. 

Jeno pulled back for a moment, looking up at you with a wicked grin, “you want more, kitten?” He teased, running a finger along your slit, “go on then, beg for it.”

You groaned in frustration, but you were too far gone to care, “please, Jeno,” you begged, fueling his ego. 

“Shhh, be a good lil’ kitten for me, yeah?” He mumbled into your core mindlessly, sending shivers up your spine as your thighs shake. He didn’t stop, but just when your ecstasy was about to crash—

He stopped. 

You let out a frustrated groan and Jeno only got up with the essence of you sprawled over his chin, his hard on begging to be freed. 

“Fuck?” You asked, trying to get up on your elbows, looking at him incredulously. 

He only gave you a once over, tongue poking his cheek from inside before he came closer, swooping you up in his arms easily as you yelped, eyes wide as he carried you to the bedroom, “no patience, huh?” He asked. 

He was proud of himself for making you this weak, for cracking your high wall down so he could see you, so he could ruin you. Jeno was possessive, especially after knowing what you and Jaemin went through, he wanted you to have the best, and he was willing to be the best for you. 

“I—I was gonna cum!” You said, holding on to him for support.

“Did I say you could?” He replied smoothly. 

“What—Jeno what the fuck?” You whined and he only chuckled.

“Be patient, love, or else you won’t be coming all fucking night, yeah?” He said as he let you get down on the bed. 

You looked so innocent, eyes watery, hair messy, looking up at him like an angry little kitten trying to look tough. He climbed the bed and you moved back, till your back hit the headboard and he hovered above you, caressing your cheek as he cupped your jaw, tilting your head up to look him in his eye. Your heartbeat speeding up yet again, and good lord you loved being manhandled by Jeno. 

“What are you thinking?” He asked, thumb pushing on your lower lip. 

“Nothing.” You mumbled. 

He leaned in closer, “not thinking of my cock inside your pretty little cunt, hm?” He asks, watching you shiver at the thought, “by the time I'm done with you, you’ll be begging me to let you cum.”

Your jaw clenched as you slide your hand up Jeno’s torso, tracing all the way from his abs to his neck, his own body reacting to your touch, cock twitching inside his pants by the time your hand rested on his nape, pulling him even closer so your noses were touching. 

“You know, Jeno, you talk big game. Don’t make promises you can’t back up,” you mumbled to rile him up. 

Jeno’s eyes flashed with a mixture of lust and irritation at your challenge, “oh, you’re going to regret those words,” he whispered, his hands gripping your hips possessively. “I’m going to make you beg for my cock, baby.”

He punctuated his statement with a sharp thrust of his fingers, two of them plunging deep into your sopping wet pussy. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as he worked them in and out, stroking along your sensitive walls.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he panted, his thumb rubbing firm circles on your clit. “I can’t wait to feel this perfect little cunt wrapped around my cock.”

You moaned, your hips rolling to meet his hand as he fucked you with his fingers. “Then stop talking and do something about it,” you shot back, your voice breathy with desire.

Jeno chuckled darkly, withdrawing his fingers only to bring them to his mouth. He sucked them clean, his eyes never leaving yours as he savored your taste. “Mmh—delicious,” he purred, “but I’m not done playing with you yet.”

Before you could protest, he was pushing your thighs apart and settling between them. His tongue delved into your folds, lapping at your arousal like a man starved. You cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he devoured your pussy with single-minded intensity.

He worked you over mercilessly, his tongue and lips and teeth finding all the right spots to drive you wild. You bucked against his face, your thighs trembling as the pleasure built inside you. Just when you thought you might burst, Jeno would back off, leaving you desperate and aching for release.

“Jeno, please,” you whimpered, tugging on his hair in a futile attempt to guide him back to where you needed him most, “I need to cum. Please let me cum.”

He lifted his head, his chin glistening as he looked up at you. “Not yet,” he shook his head, his fingers continuing their maddeningly slow circles on your clit, “I want to hear you scream first.”

“I fucking can’t!” You breathed out, trying to control your moans again, “someone’s gonna hear and—ah—complain about it,” you said, which only made him scoff. 

“Is that it, hm? Have it your way then, princess,” he mumbled, yanking your soiled panties down all the way, balling it up in his first to make a gag out of it and shoving it down your mouth, “now you can scream all your want, Y/N.” He said, taking your name in his deep voice. 

And if you weren’t crazy before, now you had reached your limit of madness, even a poke from his side was like a pleasant burning wound to your skin, his actions also made you realize just how hungry Jeno was for being the one in control. 

You squirmed beneath Jeno, feeling utterly at his mercy as he continued his torturous teasing. The gag in your mouth muffled your moans but couldn’t silence them completely, much to Jeno’s enjoyment. Your body arched, yearning for more, desperate for release.

“Such a needy lil’ thing, aren’t you?” Jeno growled, his fingers still circling your sensitive bud, “I can feel how wet you are, taste how wet you are, dripping for me, hm?”

His words made you clench, fresh arousal coating his fingers. He gathered some of your slickness and slowly dragged it up to your throbbing clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. Your hips bucked up in hopes of seeking more contact.

“Hm—so responsive,” Jeno purred, looking pleased with himself, “I could do this all night—keep you on the edge, begging so desperately for me.”

“Please—” you tried to say around the gag, your eyes pleading, you were so close, teetering on the brink of an explosive climax. Just a little more.

But Jeno seemed determined to deny you that satisfaction, easing off right as you were about to fall over into your state of euphoria, frustration bubbled up inside you, mingling with the overwhelming lust coursing through your veins.

“You’re going to have to do better than that, baby,” Jeno taunted, nipping at your inner thigh, “I want to hear you scream my name—let everyone know who you belong to.”

His fingers circled, feather-light touches that drove you wild with need. You thrashed beneath him, incoherent noises of desperation spilling from your lips. Jeno just chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying your plight, removing your gag to hear you gasp loudly, his name on the tip of your tongue. 

Jeno was cruel, so cruel the way he denied your orgasm yet again with a smirk playing on his face, a whole one eighty from how he was an hour back and you were crying by now, something he seemed to enjoy too as he licked your face, tasting the salty teardrop you let out, “this makes me wanna ruin you more, y’know?” 

“Fuck—Jeno, let me cum please,” you sobbed as he took you in his arms. 

“You wanna cum, hm?” He asked as you settled on his lap, his hard on pressing against your thigh as you nodded, “fuck, you look so pretty crying like that for me, like a doll, a doll for me to use, hm?”

You couldn’t take it anymore, getting off and undoing his pant buttons as he watched you with amusement how you struggled to take off his pants and boxers, only to find his cock waiting for you, hard and proud. 

Jeno’s cock was throbbing, hard and ready to burst, as you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip in a teasing manner. You could taste the salty beads of precum leaking from his slit, the flavor sending a jolt of desire straight to your core.

“Fuck—baby,” Jeno groaned, his fingers threading through your hair as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper into your throat. “Your mouth feels so good. Keep going just like that, good girl.”

You moaned around his length, the vibrations making him shudder. Your own arousal was dripping down your thighs, coating them with your slick essence. The wet sounds of your slurping filled the room, mingling with Jeno’s heavy breaths and grunts of pleasure.

“Shit—fuck, take it easy, I won’t be able to hold back," he panted, his grip on your hair tightening, “I’m gonna fucking come down your throat if you keep sucking me like that.”

You redoubled your efforts, eager to taste his release. Your tongue flattened against the underside of his shaft as you sucked harder, determined to milk him of every last drop. Just as you felt him start to swell, signaling his impending orgasm, you pulled away with a pop.

Jeno’s eyes jolted open, a mix of confusion and frustration flashing across his face. “What the fuck, baby? Why the fuck did you stop?”

You just smiled coyly up at him, licking your lips. “Because I want you to come inside me. I want to feel you fill me up with your hot cum, or are you too much of a coward to fuck me?” You teased, your grin making him scoff. 

God he loved you. 

Jeno growled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. In a flash, he grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your side, your back pressed firmly against his torso. 

Before you could even process the sudden change in position, he was lined up at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging your slick folds.

“Teasing me will only get you punished,” he warned, his voice low and husky with desire. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”

With that promise, he slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your back arching as he filled you completely. Jeno set a brutal pace, pounding into you with wild abandon.

You let out a sharp cry as Jeno’s thick cock stretched you open, filling you so deeply that you could feel him bulging through your lower abdomen. The feeling of his hard length pulsing inside you sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making you arch your back and press your ass against him.

“Lord—ah yes,” you gasped, grinding against him, “you’re—so fucking big.”

Jeno grunted in response, his fingers digging into your hips as he continued to pound into you at a furious pace. The sounds of skin slapping against skin and your needy moans filled the room, mixing with the creaking of the bed frame beneath you.

“Shit, your cunt is so tight,” Jeno mumbled, his breath hot against your neck. “Squeezing my cock like a desperate doll—you were made for me, baby. Made to take my dick and milk me dry.”

His filthy words only heightened your arousal, making you clench even tighter around him. You could feel your orgasm building again, the tension coiling in your core as he hit that special spot deep inside you with each thrust.

“Please don’t stop, not this time,” you pleaded, your nails digging into his thighs. “Fuck me harder, Jeno. I’m so fucking close.”

He was quick to flip you over again so you were resting on your back, his hips settling in between you as he held your thighs up, your legs resting on both his shoulders with ease as he snapped into you harder, plunging his cock with more need, as if he was a monster hungry for lust and only lust.

Jeno snarled, his hips snapping forward with a newfound vigor. One hand moved around to rub firm circles around your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body began to tremble, your breath coming out in short gasps as you found yourself on the brink of ecstasy.

“Cum for me,” Jeno demanded, pinching your clit hard, “I want to feel you cum all over my dick, baby.”

With a scream of his name, you practically exploded, your pussy clamping down around him like a vice as your orgasm crashed over you. Your body convulsed, your back bowing as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed through you, which shocked Jeno because you weren’t just having an orgasm. 

You were squirting all over his cock. 

Jeno followed shortly after, his cock pulsing as he spilled his release deep inside you, as he breathed hard, watching you with surprised eyes.

“Fuck,” he groaned, grinding against you to prolong your shared climax, “you’re so fucking hot, so fucking mine.”

You whimpered at the feeling of his hot cum painting your walls, the sensation making your pussy flutter around his shaft. Jeno held you close as you both rode out the aftershocks, his softening cock still buried inside you.

“You’re mine,” he mumbled, “say it.”

“Yours—I’m yours,” you breathed as best as you could. 

“Again.”

“I’m yours, Jeno.”

“Fuck—again.”

“So so fucking yours, I’m all yours Jeno.”

“Mine,” he whispered, so possessive. 

After a few moments, Jeno carefully pulled out and rolled you onto your back. He pressed gentle kisses along your jawline and down your neck, his touch soothing and tender in contrast to the rough passion from moments before.

“That was intense,” he murmured, nuzzling against your collarbone, “I don’t think i’ll ever get enough of you, baby. You’re fucking addictive.”

You smiled up at him, reaching up to cup his face. "I could say the same about you. The way you fuck me, it’s like you’re a fucking beast.”

“Was I too harsh?” He asked, placing soft kisses all over, “I’m sorry I just lost control—you have no idea how badly I need you, I don’t think I can stop,” he confessed. 

You kissed him again, “then don’t stop, just don’t.”

That’s all he needed to hear for the night, that you were finally his, and he was yours. He smirked, the night was just getting started. 

Chapter 10: Hate me less? You love me more. 

You don’t remember how the night ended, not when Jeno kept his promise of how you wouldn’t be able to walk anymore once he was done with you, and he was precise about it. He was far from done when he made you fall apart on his cock so many times, you lost count. 

It was a crazy switch up once you both were done, he took care of you, almost like he was made for it, helping you clean up in little bathtub which was definitely too small to fit the both of you, yet he helped you bath, a faint blush on his face as you laughed once he tried to act sly, touching you again when you were so sensitive and overstimulated. 

Turns out, Jeno can be super clingy when he has to be, also not letting you go once you get out of the tub, helping you dry your hair, helping you moisturize your body, helping you smile by kissing you every few seconds. 

He held you to sleep, not before hearing you say you actually want him and it’s not a dream. Jeno doesn’t remember if he ever felt this way before, this warmth called happiness that you provided him so easily. 

“I love you,” he mumbled to your sleeping figure, he was whipped, already thinking of your future together. Yeah, maybe it all happened too quickly, he still wouldn’t have it any other way. He wouldn’t mind getting through all the hurt again if it meant that he’d wake up to you sleeping next to him—to you loving him. 

It was perhaps the best day of Jeno’s life. 

The air felt different today.

Not because of the weather, which was finally warm and breezy after days of storm and stress, but because Jeno was walking beside you—not behind, not ahead—beside you. His fingers were laced with yours, his thumb brushing over your skin every few steps like he was still checking if this was real, he still couldn’t believe it. 

It was.

You passed the main quad slowly, in no rush. The two of you didn’t need to say much. Conversations dimmed as you walked through. You could feel the glances, the whispers.

Someone definitely said your name. Then his.

And then, clear as day, they whispered. 

“Wait—are they actually holding hands?”

Jeno didn’t flinch.

Not like he would’ve, weeks ago. Not like the boy who couldn’t stand being seen, being known. Instead, he just grabbed your hand a little tighter—casual, sure, and completely unbothered. His expression said it all—Yeah, and?

You chuckled. “Think they’re combusting?”

“Oh, definitely,” he said, tugging you closer with a smugness he barely bothered to hide anymore. “Especially that one girl who’s walking with me, who swore she’d never even look at me.”

“She wasn’t entirely wrong,” you teased. “You were kind of a menace.”

He groaned, tossing his head back, “were?”

You laughed, and it made him smile, soft and full, the kind of smile he used to hide and now gave you freely.

“You’re doing that look again,” he said, side-eyeing you. “Like you’re psychoanalyzing me.”

“Maybe I am. Can’t help it. You’re a walking dissertation, y’know?”

“Yeah? What’s the title?”

You looked up at him with a shrug. “How to fall for someone you’re supposed to hate.”

That made him stop walking.

You blinked, startled, but he was already turning to face you, his hoodie sleeves pushed up just enough to show the fading bruises on his knuckles—old reminders of the version of him you never gave up on.

“I’m glad you did,” he said. “Fall for me. Even when I made it so damn hard.”

You smiled slowly, the kind of smile that made his breath catch. “You still do.”

“Yeah, well,” he squeezed your hand, “at least I’m hot.”

You were too busy rolling your eyes to realize you’d just walked past Jaemin and his friends until the entire bench went awkwardly quiet. Jaemin looked up, eyes flicking from your joined hands to your face, and then to Jeno—who didn’t even spare him a glance.

He was too focused on you. Too content stealing a bite of your ice cream like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Let’s go,” you muttered, trying not to laugh as you nudged him forward.

Jeno followed. No hesitation.

Because this, the hand holding, the quiet teasing, the stares that didn’t matter anymore, this was normal.

And for the first time in his life, Jeno finally understood: Normal didn’t mean boring.

It meant chosen. It meant enough.

It meant being yours.

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