#it worked out perfectly to establish a connection!

[miyagi-hokarate]

Hi❤️ do you think Daniel Larusso's skin color (brown) was one of the reasons why he was bullied in the kk1 movie? He was obviously not as rich as the other kids and was a working class kid, but do you think the bullying had something to do with the color of his skin? Especially in the 80s, I'm just assuming you're from America. So do you happen to know how he was perceived by people then and now? When I first watched the movie and I saw Daniel I instantly felt a connection because he was/is brown. I genuinely thought he was latino, Mexican, Indian or part of another minority group. Him winning was so satisfying to see. Also, do you think his less masculin and more feminine features are also what made people bully him? I would love to hear your interpretation!💙

Hohohohooo boy, we're gettin' to the good stuff: why Daniel is so bullyable 🙏 (← not praying; rubbing hands in evil glee)

In all seriousness, let's talk about it!

(under a Read More because it got LONG 🤡)

Watching The Karate Kid, the most apparent reason Daniel gets bullied and excluded by others is because of Johnny being threatened by his flirting with Ali and the violent beginning to their relationship. The Cobras terrorize him alongside Johnny because they're not only his friends, but because they're just as ruthless when it comes to people they've made enemies of. That being said, I could certainly say there is an argument to be made that the bullying Daniel experiences has an underlying racial and sexist subtext to it.

I've seen some anecdotal claims that people have confused/assumed Daniel to be a POC — not only because of his tan skintone, but also partially because of how much that combined with his dark hair + eyes would stand out next to pale or "sunkissed" blondes. While it's arguable how much Daniel was excluded and bullied CONSCIOUSLY because of such, I think it's fair to say that those physical qualities Daniel possessed helped to isolate him from his peers and further establish the loneliness Daniel struggled with due to Johnny's aggression.

I'd also like to bring up how, while it's treated as a joke these days, Italophobia was a more present issue during the 80s, especially for darker Italians (which would include Daniel). I'm not going to dig deep into the history of Italophobia in the US here, but "Italians aren't White" sentiments still existed during this era. And with such an obviously Italian surname as 'LaRusso', I can't imagine this slice of WASPy California HADN'T noticed. While not exactly the same as 'greaseball', you could catch Bobby calling Daniel a "sleazeball" during soccer tryouts. Stepping stones before you whipped out 'wop', Brown?

Additionally, I'd also like to make a point that, behind the scenes, it was also considered particular seeing Ralph Macchio and Elisabeth Shue together. According to Macchio, John Avildsen had one time stopped him once to say this:

While I don't imagine the director had meant it in a malicious way, his comment does point out the underlying "issue" present, seeing a girl who looks so much like the 'American Girl' archetype romantically paired with a visually striking dark Italian boy. I hate it when "ethnic" is used to describe something/someone, but it is often used as a way to distinguish when something/someone is clearly of a cultural/ethnic background that doesn't align perfectly with the cultural image of 'American' (which is a whole issue in and of itself, but that's a separate topic). In this case, I think Avildsen saw the striking peculiarity of, as he put it, the cannoli (Italian) with the strawberry shortcake (American), opposite ends of the bakery case. Avildsen may have been able to appreciate the balance (heh) made by their physical differences working in unison — and he's right, they do look terrific together — but I point this out because it reveals the perception of race and multiethnic relationships of the era that I'm sure is apparent in the universe of The Karate Kid as well. I'm sure some people in West Valley High were unlike Avildsen and thought there was something wrong with "a girl like her" to be with "a guy like him" that ran a different meaning besides the Hills vs. Reseda.

Furthermore, the racial subtext is not anything new about The Karate Kid. As early as 1984, it's been pointed out how Johnny and the Cobras were chosen to be (majorly) blonde and WASPy to contrast Daniel's "dark visage". Chad McQueen, the actor who portrayed Dutch, claimed Avildsen's desire for visual/racial contrast went as far as making it so that the naturally brunet McQueen bleached his hair — to reinforce the Cobras' "Aryan look".

The subtext is strong on this one.

It's undeniable that Daniel is a couple shades darker than most of the contemporaries his age. While The Karate Kid does not explicitly point towards Daniel's racial ambiguous looks or his evident Italian heritage upon further inspection, I could believe that those two qualities — which are associated and correlate with Daniel's East Coast, working class family background — further isolated Daniel from making friends after Johnny had placed a metaphorical 'kick me!' sign on his back.

Before I move onto the second question, I'd like to point out that Daniel bonds the closest with is Undeniable Person Of Color Mr. Miyagi, whose storyline centered much on isolation and alienation from others in California as well. Additionally, Daniel's first potential friend is Latino Freddy Fernandez, who shares Daniel's dark eyes and hair (and noticeably lacks the defining trait of blonde hair that Lucille points out so much about the state), as well as his history of being bullied.

Moving on, I'd say it's less obvious that Daniel's androgynous physical attributes play a role in the bullying he experiences, or at least it's discussed differently when talking about the film. At least for me, outside of Tumblr, the only time you'd hear somebody talk about Daniel's gender presentation or performance is less analytical and more... mocksome; blah blah blah Daniel is a wimp blah blah Daniel's a girly boy blah blah blah insert gay slur

This isn't anything new when it comes to insulting men/male characters people dislike, because it's been socially taught that a man's worst offense to his gender is not being man enough (whether because of a perceived lack of physical strength, leadership, masculine traits and qualities, heterosexual behavior, cisgender behavior, cisheteronormative interests and hobbies, sociability with other men, etc.). However, I think there is a noticeable and meaningful difference in the fact Daniel's often subject to ridicule, not only by audience reactions, but also in-universe as well (the subject at hand).

I know you only mentioned Daniel's physical characteristics, so I'll try not to talk so much on his actions and behavior as well, but they do accompany one another. A topic for another day.

I wouldn't necessarily say Daniel has more feminine features, but he does have certain ones that are generally associated with femininity (thicker lips, large eyes).

(I say only "associated", because the perception of masculinity and femininity changes so often throughout time and culture. While larger lips and eyes are considered universal qualities of femininity, certain other traits are far more complicated (for example, Daniel has long eyelashes. In fact, fanartists often emphasize his lashes. Long lashes are often considered feminine, even though men typically have longer, natural eyelashes than women. But because women have historically used products to emphasize their lashes, they're considered feminine))

Daniel of course was first bullied because Johnny felt threatened by his presence with Ali. However, I do believe he continued to be targeted by Johnny and the Cobras because of a variety of reasons, one of which is not helped that Daniel does not fit the mold of masculine male youth.

Because hey, if he isn't fitting in, or isn't fitting in right, he deserves to be punished for it! That's the attitude that permeats a lot of bullying behavior; noticing or seeking out qualities that transcend/transgress against societal expectations and punishing the person for it, whether they're doing it on purpose or not. I'm not even going to get into Reagan era of presidency, but he damn sure had a part on this mindset.

In the case with Daniel, he's perceived as transgressing a lot, according to Johnny; not only is he trying to make a move on Johnny's girl (except they had broken up by that point), got involved in places he didn't belong in (picked up Ali's stereo to give it back to her), sucked ass at fighting back against Johnny with only one stray sucker punch, and decided to keep showing his face around school and even the dojo like he belongs, but Daniel does all that looking like a girl! Let's beat his sissy ass up!!

Hell, you could see this in the infantilizing/feminizing nicknames he gets throughout The Karate Kid ('sweetheart', 'prima donna', 'Danielle', 'wimp', etc.). The Cobras are written to make it a point often to attack Daniel based on his perceived lack of masculinity (such as his supposed weakness) and equal it to femininity, and thus as something bad.

I could elaborate more on this and how it's further exacerbated by Daniel's perceived lack of masculinity due to his actions and behavior, buuuut I'll leave it at that lol.

Admittedly, I don't have as much to say on this topic compared to the racial subtext, simply because 1. Daniel's physical characteristics are rather surface-level and easy to understand upon sight in my opinion (just look at 'im), and 2. again, just trying to keep it about Daniel's physical characteristics. THAT BEING SAID: there's a lot to say about gender presentation, gender roles, and gender paradigms in The Karate Kid, even outside Daniel (though of course, as the main character, he gets a lot of the analysis surrounding him) — and while I love talking about this subject, I'd said quiiiiite enough for now ajdlkajfjskf

Overall, I hope you enjoyed my thoughts on the racial/sexist subtext of Daniel getting bullied! I know it was a lot, but it's something I think a lot of hafkkshfjks

[virtuesuncounted]

Jack probably deserved a girlfriend who'd defend him when he wasn't there, but the truth is that their long list of falling outs probably had more to do with Mia's worry that they weren't very compatible after all than with them actually caring enough to fight things out. With an awkward chuckle, she kept her gaze fixed firmly on the bar, thinking that she should probably go home - or even to Jack's place to see if their relationship could be salvaged, but then Jason's hand clutched around her neck to pull her close, and her eyes shot up in shock while a full-body shiver left her in goosebumps.

"Wh-what?" she asked, her heart racing as she bit on her lip to stop herself from moaning out right then and there. Oh god, what was going on with her? Squeezing her legs together at his mere words, she swallowed hard and looked at him when he pulled back, feeling lightheaded, but more tempted than ever. "Oh, I don't, uhm," she started, shutting herself up before she could say more. "I actually, probably, .. should go home," he said, blushing as she spoke but making zero intention to actually get up.

mia's reaction to his touch was clear, as he heard her inhaling a sharp breath, making his soft smile grow. knowing he affected her, caused jason to feel secure that he would be able to put forth his proposition without her throwing what remained of her drink, in his face. or... somewhat secure. there was always the chance that she found him to be too forward, but he doubted it. "well, jack sounds like a real idiot, if you ask me," jason said softly, continuing to let his fingers run over the back of her hand. the hand she still hadn't moved, "such a pretty girl shouldn't be left unsatisfied." a small smirk appeared on his lips as he traced his fingers up mia's arm and towards her neck, pulling her close enough that he could whisper in her ear. "i would never leave you unsatisfied. in fact..." jason nipped gently on her lobe, "i would make you cum so many times, you'd lose count." the older man pulled back far enough that he could look into her eyes, his gaze hungry as he dropped his hand back to the bar, to let her mull it over. @virtuesuncounted

[timelessjk]

somehow, you. | jungkook au

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ summary: he was the quiet one in class. the type who never talked unless called on, who looked at the world from behind thick-rimmed glasses and stayed out of everyone’s way. you? you were the girl everyone knew. the one who never let anyone in. you weren’t looking for connection, and he wasn’t the kind to ask for it. but still… he did. and somehow, it worked.

ratings: 18+

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

genre: college AU, emotional intimacy, slightly slow burned.

warnings: explicit sexual content including unprotected sex (not advised), soft but possessive dirty talk, emotional vulnerability, praise, mild insecurity and reassurance, and a rough but tender dynamic in an established relationship. and ofc…big dicc jungkook cause UGH.

word count: 5.2k

a/n: hi! ok so. this is my very first fic i’m posting and i’m actually kind of losing my mind about it?? originally it was supposed to be two parts (pt.1 soft, pt.2 smut) but i got carried away and ended up writing it all in one go because i wouldn’t shut up abt this two!!

*banners/dividers credits to the owners ♡ ྀི

thank you for reading!! leave your comments on what u think of my first fic 🥺! 🤍 - Sher

requests are officially opened!

The classroom always smelled like old air and pen inks, a familiar background hum to every forgettable weekday morning.

You sat at the back, as always, where you could stretch your legs, twirl your pen, and zone out without anyone bothering you. People knew you, too well.

Not because you tried, but because the world couldn’t help but notice the girl who always seemed a little untouchable.

Then the teacher changed the seating plan.

“Jeon Jungkook. You’re moving to the back, beside her.”

A ripple of murmurs went through the class, subtle but present. You could feel the stares. You looked up just in time to see him glance nervously your way before lowering his eyes and walking toward the seat beside you.

Jungkook. Everyone knew who he was, even if he rarely spoke. Top of the class. Never late. Always dressed clean, minimal, quiet. You didn’t expect anything from him. Didn’t need another nerdy guy going stiff just because you shared a desk.

But that day, he surprised you.

He sat down carefully, barely making a sound, and opened his book. No fidgeting. No glances. Just… stillness. Until you heard the smallest breath of a murmur.

“Chapter’s interesting,” he said, eyes still on the page.

You blinked.

“What?”

He didn’t flinch. “The reading. It’s good. Surprising, kind of.”

You studied him, confused. He hadn’t even looked at you. It was like he wasn’t trying to talk to you—just thinking aloud, and you happened to hear.

You didn’t answer.

But your curiosity flickered.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

The next few days, he didn’t speak again. But he was always on time. Always with his notebook perfectly aligned. Always glancing at your desk when he thought you weren’t looking—quick, nervous flicks of his eyes.

Then came the Wednesday.

You’d forgotten your pens, bag full of it. Not on purpose—just one of those mornings where you left everything behind. You muttered something under your breath, frustrated, and slammed your bag down.

Before you could think to dig through your things again, a sleek black pen rolled across your desk.

You turned. Jungkook was still facing forward, penless himself now.

“You sure?” you asked, surprised.

He nodded once. “I have another.”

You waited for a smile. A joke. Some kind of flirtation.

Nothing.

Just a calm silence.

It threw you off more than someone asking for your number ever could.

Then came the Thursday rainstorm.

You stayed behind after class, waiting for it to ease, stuck at the school’s entrance while thunder rumbled in the distance. Everyone else had already left, except for him.

He walked up beside you without a word, holding an umbrella. For a second, you thought he was going to walk past.

He hesitated.

“You live near East Gate, right?” he asked, voice low, eyes on the rain.

You narrowed your eyes. “How do you know that?”

He shrugged. “I’ve seen you leave that way. Every day.”

You didn’t answer.

He tilted the umbrella slightly toward you. “Come on.”

You stared at him like he’d grown two heads. But you followed.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

That walk changed everything.

He didn’t try to impress you. Didn’t pry. Just walked beside you, holding the umbrella with quiet precision to make sure it covered you both.

When you reached your turn, you stopped.

“Why’re you doing this?” you asked, genuinely confused.

He paused. Looked at you for the first time, really looked—eyes soft behind his wet fringe.

“Because you look like no one ever asks how you’re doing,” he said. “And i kind of want to.”

You stood frozen as he walked away, raindrops hitting your shoulders after the umbrella disappeared with him down the path.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

From then on, he became your quiet shadow.

Always beside you in class. Always one step behind in the hallway. But not in a clingy way. He respected your space but showed up when it mattered.

One morning, you came in late, eyes puffy from a night you didn’t want to talk about. You slumped into your chair, hoodie up, bare faced (that rarely happens whenever you go to class) sleeves tugged over your hands.

He didn’t say anything.

But when you finally looked at your desk, there was a folded note, written in perfect; clean handwriting.

“It’s okay to have days like this. You’re allowed to fall apart sometimes. I’ve got notes if you need them.”

You folded the paper slowly. Pressed your lips together. And something inside you melted.

You weren’t used to being seen like that.

You weren’t used to someone not asking for anything in return.

That day, you turned to him and whispered, “Thanks.” giving him a small smile.

He looked up, startled, as if he wasn’t expecting you to respond.

And smiled, unsure, but real.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

You think to yourself, you might fell for him. Maybe. Which is a weird feeling to you.

Given that you both barely have a proper (real) conversation.

Well you did exchange numbers—that’s because you both somehow were assigned to work together, so Jungkook thought it would be better to interact outside of class.

For study purpose of course.

Eventually both of you did text one another—occasionally. Just short texts nothing conversation worthy.

Yeah, you felt this weird butterflies.

But, you didn’t fall all at once.

It happened slowly. Over study sessions you didn’t consider were study sessions, coffee walks that became routines, quiet texts late at night when he’d ask, “Did you eat today?” and not stop asking until you said yes.

Over the time, during study sessions, you found yourself laughing around him. Trusting him.

Letting your guard down without realizing it had dropped.

One night, you asked through text, in your bed, loneliness crept again, “You know i’m kind of… a mess, right?”

He replied few seconds too fast.

“I know,” he said. “But you’re the kind of mess that makes sense to me.”

And you fell.

Quietly. Completely.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

You weren’t sure when the lines blurred—when study sessions became excuses to sit a little closer, when shared coffee turned into shared glances, when “see you tomorrow” carried the weight of don’t forget me.

Jungkook didn’t rush anything. He never did.

But one Friday, something shifted.

He caught up with you after class, his hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up, headphones around his neck, looking nervous in a way that made your heart weirdly ache.

“Hey,” he said, walking beside you. “There’s this exhibition at the design building… the one with digital installations. I thought—maybe you’d like it.”

You turned to look at him. “You inviting me?”

He nodded, looking at the floor. “If you want. No pressure. It’s tomorrow.”

You almost teased him. Almost said something sarcastic just to keep things from feeling too serious. But something in the way he looked—open, nervous, sincere—made you soften.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’d like that.”

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

The exhibition was small. Quiet. Dreamy.

Digital light shifted across the walls like watercolor in motion. Projected clouds drifted across the floor.

Every room had its own ambient sound—soft, electronic music and echoing whispers. It should’ve felt awkward, being alone together in that hush.

But with him, it didn’t.

You stood in one of the installations surrounded by cascading lines of digital rain, blue and silver glowing all around and he looked at you like he wanted to remember the moment.

“I like this,” you said quietly.

He glanced at the ceiling, then back at you. “Me too.”

A beat passed.

“Honestly… i didn’t know if you’d say yes,” he admitted. “To coming here.”

You tilted your head. “Why not?”

He looked at you. “Because i’m not like the other people you talk to.”

“You mean the loud ones? I don’t talk to just anyone, anymore. Besides, didn’t we spend a good amount of time together for the past month to be considered as…friends?”

He smiled, barely. “Yeah. The ones who know what to say. And yeah i knew that but still, i thought it was just a study session, coffee catch ups with you—that you’d rather spend your time with your other…friends.”

You shifted your weight. “Maybe i got tired of people who always know what to say and FYI—i’d rather spend my time with you.”

Silence.

Just the sound of soft electronic rainfall.

Then he said it—so low you almost missed it:

“I really like being around you.”

You turned to him, heart suddenly too loud in your chest.

He’s so dreamy, handsome.

“I really like being around you too.”

And he looked at you like you’d just said the one thing he’d been waiting to hear.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

Your first kiss wasn’t at the exhibition.

That night had already held enough. The way he kept sneaking glances at you while pretending to read the plaque beside a sculpture, the way his hand hovered close to yours but never quite touched.

You walked the whole gallery like that, quiet but full of something neither of you wanted to name yet.

Later, he offered to walk you home. You said yes.

The air was cold but not bitter, the city dim and quiet in that in-between hour.

Your footsteps echoed against the pavement, your breath blooming white in the air. He kept his hands in his coat pockets, close but not brushing yours.

“Did you like the exhibit?” he asked, his voice low and a little shy.

“I did,” you said. “But i think i liked walking around with you more.”

He turned his head slightly, surprised. “Yeah?”

You nodded, not looking at him. “It was… nice. I don’t usually do things like that. With people.”

Jungkook was quiet for a moment. Then “You mean dates?”

You blinked. “Was this a date?”

His voice went even softer. “I wanted it to be.”

You stopped walking. Your apartment was just ahead, but you didn’t want to go in yet. The moment felt full.

Suspended.

He looked at you, eyes searching. “Can I be honest?”

You tilted your head. “Aren’t you always?” you giggled.

He smiled faintly. “I think about you a lot more than i should.”

You swallowed. “What does that mean?”

“It means i’ve liked you for a while. Even before you started talking to me.”

“You’re not exactly… forward, you know.”

“I didn’t think i was your type.”

“You’re not,” you said simply. “At least, not what i thought my type was.”

His expression didn’t change much, but you saw the flicker of hope behind his eyes.

You glanced down at your keys, twisting them between your fingers. “You’ve been patient with me.”

“I don’t mind waiting,” he said. “But sometimes i think… i just want to know if i’m the only one feeling this.”

You looked at him then. Really looked.

His scarf was wrapped high, almost to his mouth. His cheeks were pink from the cold, eyes warm, uncertain, but wide open.

He wasn’t trying to be smooth. He wasn’t trying to win. He was just there, telling you the truth.

Then slowly and tentatively, he stepped closer, his breath shallow.

His voice barely carried “Can I kiss you?”

You felt everything in you pause.

And then “Yeah,” you said softly, heart pounding.

“Yeah, you can.”

He didn’t hesitate after that. He leaned in, hand rising to your cheek, thumb brushing gently across your skin. His lips met yours in a kiss that was soft, slow, careful.

He was learning something sacred; he didn’t want to rush what he’d waited so long to feel.

When he pulled back, your lips still tingled from the warmth of him, your chest full and fluttering.

You smiled, breath curling in the air. “You always this careful?”

His voice was low, but sure. “Only when it’s important.”

And you knew, right then, it was.

You didn’t talk much after that kiss.

Not because it was awkward. Because it wasn’t. It was the kind of silence that wrapped itself around you like a blanket. Soft, steady, enough.

He waited for you to open the door. Didn’t push. Just gave you that small smile, the one he only ever gave you and said, “Text me when you’re inside.”

You nodded, stepped in, and closed the door.

Then leaned your forehead against it.

You were in trouble.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

The next few days were different in all the ways that mattered.

You still sat beside each other in class. Still studied together in the library. But now there were new things. A small, subtle shifts.

His knee brushed against yours and didn’t move. He’d lean in when he spoke, voice softer. You’d catch him looking at you, and this time, you didn’t look away.

You weren’t used to this version of yourself; unguarded. And Jungkook, for all his quietness, seemed to understand that.

He never rushed you. Never asked “what are we?” or “where is this going?”

He just stayed.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

It wasn’t planned.

The day had been normal. Classes, campus noise, another group project that had you rolling your eyes while Jungkook just quietly took notes. He always took notes, even when no one else cared. You liked that about him. You’d never told him.

You were both walking back from campus, the sky soft with evening gray, when it started to drizzle.

Jungkook held his bag over your head.

You laughed. “You know i’m not gonna melt, right?”

He just looked down at you. “You’re still cold when it rains. You get quiet.”

You didn’t answer. Mostly because he was right. You did get quiet.

And he noticed.

By the time you reached your apartment, your hair was damp, and your mood had shifted. You weren’t sad—just heavy.

One of those days. You didn’t say much as you opened the door and let him in.

Jungkook toed off his shoes carefully, still holding that nervous energy he always carried when he was in your space. You dropped your keys in the bowl by the door and stood in the kitchen, hands on the counter.

��Want tea?” you asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

The silence between you was soft. Not tense. Just full of all the things you weren’t ready to say out loud. You made tea. He sat at the table. You sat across from him, knees brushing under the wood.

Then, out of nowhere, you said it.

“I don’t let people in.”

He looked up, startled. You weren’t looking at him—just staring into your mug.

“I don’t know how to do that,” you continued. “It’s easier when no one expects anything.”

A long pause. Then:

“I never expected anything,” he said.

You finally looked at him. He looked… calm. A little sad. But calm.

“I just liked being around you.”

You nodded slowly. “You still do?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Even more now.”

The air between you shifted. Slowed. Deepened.

And you whispered, “Stay tonight?”

He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t assume.

He just said, “Okay.”

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

You sat on the floor of your bedroom while he changed into the extra clothes you gave him. A quiet hum played from the speaker, barely audible.

When he stepped back into the room; barefoot, hoodie sleeves pushed up, eyes soft, you suddenly felt that aching fear again.

What if you messed this up?

What if it didn’t last?

And then he crossed the room and knelt in front of you.

His hand rested gently on your knee. “You don’t have to be anything for me,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to perform. Or smile. Or fix anything.”

You looked down at your lap, fighting the warmth in your throat.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted.

“I’ll wait while you figure it out,” he said.

Just like that.

No grand declaration. No demand. Just steady, honest patience.

You reached for his hand.

Held it.

And when you finally crawled into bed beside him, there was no space left between you. You pressed your back to his chest, his arm wrapping loosely around your waist. His breath tickled your shoulder.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you whispered back.

And you meant it.

You woke to the quiet shift of fabric. The soft sound of him sitting up beside you.

Morning light filtered through the curtains in a pale blur. Your back was still warm from where his arm had rested. You blinked slowly, your mind caught between dreams and now.

Jungkook was already awake, hoodie wrinkled, hair messy from sleep.

He was sitting at the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

He looked like he was thinking too loud.

You propped yourself up on your elbow. “Hey,” you said, voice scratchy.

He turned to you immediately, like he’d been waiting. “Hey,” he echoed. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

You sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around your shoulders. “You okay?”

He nodded. Then shook his head. Then let out a quiet breath, like he wasn’t sure how to start.

“Can i ask you something?” he said softly.

You stilled, heart already beginning to tap faster in your chest. “Yeah.”

He looked down at his hands, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of his sleeve.

“I don’t want to ruin anything. I’m not trying to pressure you,” he started, voice careful. “But… what are we?”

You didn’t answer right away.

His eyes lifted. “I just…last night meant something to me. You mean something to me. And i know you don’t let people in easily. So i don’t want to assume anything, but i also don’t want to keep pretending this is just… nothing.”

You watched him for a moment, your throat tight.

“I didn’t think you’d ask,” you murmured.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re usually the quiet one. The patient one.”

“I still am,” he said. “But being patient doesn’t mean I’m not feeling things too.”

You swallowed, fingers tugging at the edge of the blanket. “I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to explain what i feel when i’m with you. It’s new. And a little scary.”

He nodded slowly. “Same.”

You looked at him. “But i don’t want it to be nothing either.”

Jungkook’s expression softened. “Yeah?”

You nodded, quieter this time. “Yeah.”

He shifted closer, his knee bumping gently against yours. “Then maybe… we don’t have to label it yet. But I just needed to know i wasn’t alone in it.”

“You’re not,” you said.

You meant it.

Jungkook exhaled a breath he’d been holding. Then reached out, tentative at first and he curls his fingers around yours.

“Okay,” he said, voice warm now. “Then i’m yours. However long it takes.”

You smiled, eyes stinging just a little. “You’re really not what i expected.”

He grinned—finally, fully. “I get that a lot.”

And in the quiet that followed, your fingers remained laced with his. Simple. Certain.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you had to run.

It had been a month.

One month since Jungkook had leaned across your front step and kissed you like it mattered. Since he’d touched your face like he was afraid you’d vanish if he blinked too fast.

And somehow, things still felt new. Still soft. Still unreal in moments like now, with him sprawled across your bed in a hoodie, reading on his stomach, feet swaying behind him like a kid.

You were half-working on an assignment, half-watching him.

“You’re staring,” he said without looking up.

“I’m admiring,” you corrected.

He turned his head just enough to catch your smirk, then gave a small smile. “Baby,” he said under his breath, “you’re distracting.”

“You like it,” you replied, nudging his leg with your foot.

He hummed. “I do.”

⋆. 𐙚 ̊⊹ꮺ˚

Your relationship had grown into something… daily. Quiet rituals that made your chest ache. He’d walk you to class with your fingers looped in his sleeve. He’d wait for you outside the library, sipping iced coffee and reading the latest novel you lent him. You started wearing his hoodies without asking. He stopped looking surprised when you kissed his cheek mid-sentence.

But even with the sweetness, there was still something unspoken hanging between you.

Something warmer. Heavier.

Like tonight.

He was still lying on your bed when you finally gave up pretending to work and climbed over him, plopping yourself beside his back with a sigh.

He closed his book and peeked at you. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “You’re just comfy.”

He let out a soft laugh. “You say that every time you use me as a pillow.”

“Because it’s true, baby.”

You shifted, laying your head against his back. Your palm flattened over his spine.

Jungkook went still for a second—then melted.

“Do you…” you hesitated, unsure why your throat suddenly felt tight, “do you ever want to do more than just lie here?”

He was silent for a moment.

Then, softly: “Yeah. I do.”

You sat up a little, just enough to look at him.

His cheeks were already flushed.

“I just never know if you’re comfortable,” intertwining your fingers together.

“Or if you want to. I’ve never really… gotten this far before.” he added.

You blinked. “You haven’t?”

He shook his head. “I’ve dated a few, but it never got serious. And no one ever really looked at me like you do.”

That last part made your chest squeeze.

“You mean like you hung the stars?” you teased gently.

He smiled, eyes shy. “Kind of, yeah.”

You reached out, brushing your fingers through his hair. “You’re not the only nervous one, baby.”

“I’m not?”

You shook your head. “I’ve been with my fair share of…flings? boyfriends?, whatever you wanna call it—but it never felt right nor did it worked out, obviously. It always felt like they expected something from me. You don’t.”

Jungkook shifted, sitting up properly now. You were both facing each other, legs crossed.

“Can i ask you something?” he said quietly.

You nodded.

His voice was careful. “If we… wanted to try something. Anything. Would you tell me if you weren’t ready?”

“Always,” you promised.

He reached forward, brushing a thumb against your cheek. “Okay.”

You leaned into his palm.

And after a beat, you whispered, “Would you kiss me now?”

His lips twitched. “I’d give you anything you want.”

When he kissed you—slow and warm, one hand still cupping your jaw—it felt like everything in the world slowed down. Like it was just you and him, tangled in hush and trust.

You shifted closer, your hand slipping beneath the hem of his hoodie, resting just above his waistband. You felt him freeze, just slightly.

“Too much?” you whispered.

“No,” he breathed. “Just new.”

You smiled into the kiss. “We’ll take it slow.”

“Promise?” he breathes into the kiss.

“Promise.”

And when he pulled you fully into his lap, burying his face in your neck with a soft laugh, it felt like something more than new.

It happened on a night that didn’t feel special; no candles, no dramatic music, just the two of you in your room after dinner, legs tangled on your bed, warm with laughter and full from pasta Jungkook had insisted on cooking himself.

He was wearing gray sweatpants and one of your oversized shirts, sleeves pushed up, his hair messily falling across his forehead.

You had just pulled him down for a kiss. Playful, slow.

But then it lingered. Deepened.

And something shifted.

His tongue slipped against yours, deliberate. His hand came up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer like he couldn’t help himself anymore.

When you whimpered against his lips, he pulled back slightly, gaze heavy-lidded.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and rough.

You nodded, breathless. “Yeah. Just… wasn’t expecting you to kiss me like that.”

He brushed your cheek with his thumb. “Like what?”

“Like you’ve been waiting to.”

“I have been,” he murmured. “For so fucking long.”

Your chest tightened, breath caught in your throat.

“We’ve kissed many, many times before?,” you giggled.

And then his lips was on yours again, more desperate this time. No teasing. No question.

Jungkook leaned over you, pressing you into the mattress, his body slotting between your thighs like it was instinct.

You felt how hard he was through the thin fabric of your shorts. He wasn’t trying to hide it. He wanted you to feel it.

“Jungkook,” you breathed, tugging at his shirt. “Please.”

He sat back just enough to yank it over his head, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. “You sure?”

“Baby,” you said, reaching for him again, “I’ve never been more sure.”

Something in his expression cracked open at that relief, hunger, something fierce and protective all at once.

“Then let me have you,” he said, voice dark, breath ragged. “Let me fuck you like you deserve.”

The way he said it; need dripping into every syllable made your whole body shudder.

He tugged your shorts down fast, your panties going with them. When you gasped, he kissed the inside of your thigh, then hovered over you again, his cock straining visibly in his sweats.

“God,” he whispered, eyes raking over you. “You’re so fucking pretty like this. Laid out for me.”

Your hands reached for him, desperate. “I want you, Jungkook. I don’t wanna wait.”

“You won’t,” he said, voice curling around you like silk and smoke.

He shoved his pants down just enough to free himself, stroking himself slowly as he stared at you.

“You’ve got no idea what you do to me,” he murmured. “No idea how long i’ve wanted to be inside you.”

You reached between your legs, spreading yourself open for him.

His mouth dropped open slightly. “Fuck.”

He lined himself up, eyes locked on yours. “Tell me if i go too fast, okay?”

You nodded, heart hammering. “I trust you.”

That did something to him.

He pushed in slow, deep, all at once.

Your breath hitched, legs trembling.

“Holy fuck,” Jungkook groaned, head falling to your shoulder. “You feel like heaven. So wet for me already.”

You clung to him, nails dragging lightly down his back.

“Move,” you gasped. “I need you.”

He obeyed without hesitation, pulling back, then slamming into you again with a rhythm that made your head spin.

It was hard and deep. Not rushed, but intentional. Like he knew exactly how to tear you apart and put you back together.

“Baby,” he breathed, panting against your throat, “you’re taking me so well.”

You moaned, legs tightening around him.

“You always this tight, or is it just for me?”

“Only you,” you choked out, voice cracking. “Only ever been like this for you.”

That made him growl.

“You feel perfect. Like you’re made for me.”

Every thrust dragged a whimper from your lips. Every kiss to your neck made you melt further under him.

You could feel how careful he was, even in the roughness. Like he wanted you to feel claimed, but not hurt. Never that.

“You like when i talk like this?” he asked, voice low in your ear.

“Yes,” you moaned. “Fuck, Jungkook.”

“You make me lose my mind, princess. Got me thinking about you all day. Couldn’t wait to fuck you full of my come inside.”

Your back arched, nails digging into his shoulders.

He shifted his hips, angling deeper. “You gonna come for me like this? Gonna come on my cock hm?”

You nodded desperately, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. “Yes….don’t stop.”

“Look at me,” he whispered.

You did.

And in the silence that followed, he slowed down, but pressed in deep and stayed there.

His body trembled above yours, like he was holding something back—not just his release, but something heavier.

You cupped his cheek gently. “Jungkook?”

His voice broke.

“I love you,” he whispered; then again, faster, almost panicked. “I love you so much it’s scaring me.”

You stared up at him, eyes wide.

“I—” His throat worked as he swallowed, his brows drawn tight with emotion. “I never thought i’d have this. You. I never thought someone like you would ever even look at me.”

“Jungkook—”

“I used to watch you,” he continued, voice cracking. “In class. You were always so confident. So distant. But then you sat next to me—God, i still remember the way you looked that day. I thought it was a joke. Like there’s no way you would sit beside me.”

Your chest ached. He kept going.

“But you did. You stayed. You talked to me. You let me see pieces of you no one else gets to. And i still don’t know why. I still think maybe you’ll wake up and realize you could do better and just… leave.”

You shook your head, eyes stinging.

“But you don’t,” he whispered. “You stay. You’re patient with me when i get quiet. When i don’t know what to say. You still kiss me like i matter.”

His voice dropped lower, barely a breath.

“I don’t know what i did to deserve you. But fuck—i’m so glad you exist. I’m so glad you sat next to me.”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

He saw the silence as hesitation, and something in his face crumpled.

“It’s okay,” he said quickly, pulling back just slightly. “You don’t have to say it back. I just….i needed you to know. Even if i’m not what you expected. Even if I’m not enough.”

And that’s when it hit you.

This boy; this quiet, brilliant, soft-hearted boy had been holding it in for months.

You surged up and kissed him.

Not soft. Not gentle.

You kissed him like you were giving him an answer.

He gasped against your lips when you pulled away.

“I love you,” you whispered. “Are you kidding? You’re everything.”

He blinked, stunned.

“I didn’t say it sooner because i was scared i’d ruin this,” you said. “But Jungkook… you are everything i could ever ask for.”

He let out a shaky breath—half a laugh, half a sob—and kissed you again, deeper this time. Needy. Grateful.

You weren’t sure what hurt more. The way he was moving inside you, or the way he was looking at you.

Like you were a miracle.

Like you were something he’d never believed he could have.

Every thrust was deep, steady, but trembling with emotion. He was holding on for dear life. His forehead pressed to yours, sweat on his brow, his breath hot and uneven.

“God,” Jungkook groaned, voice raw, “you feel so good, too good.”

You cupped his face again, thumbs brushing over his flushed cheeks. “You can let go. i’ve got you.”

But he didn’t. Not yet.

“I don’t want this to end,” he whispered. “I don’t want us to end.”

“We won’t,” you said softly. “I’m right here.”

He choked on a breath, hips stuttering. “I’ve never… never loved anyone like this.”

You nodded, tears welling. “Me either.”

And still, he didn’t stop moving. He couldn’t; not when your body clung to his like a prayer, not when your nails curled against his back, not when your lips parted with little gasps that sounded like his name.

“Let go, baby,” you whispered. “I want you to come inside. Cmon baby.”

His pace faltered; sharper, desperate. “Can’t believe you’re mine,” he breathed. “Can’t believe it’s you.”

Then, with a deep groan against your neck, he finally gave in—shuddering in your arms, body tensing, spilling into you like it was all too much and not enough at once.

You held him through it.

Through the tremble in his limbs.

Through the whispered “I love you” that followed on the heels release. Ropes of come dripping out as he pulls out slowly then inside again. You moaned at the sensation.

He didn’t move for a while—just stayed there, inside you, wrapped around you, like he couldn’t stand to lose the warmth.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, stroking his hair. “You don’t have to hold on so tight.”

He nuzzled into your shoulder. “I want to, though.”

“I know,” you smiled. “Me too.”

Eventually, he shifted, settling beside you, your bodies still tangled beneath the blankets.

The silence was heavy but comforting. No more fear. No more holding back.

Just breathing. Together.

You turned to look at him, and he was already watching you.

“What?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He traced your jaw with his thumb, eyes soft.

“Out of everyone in this whole world… somehow, it was you.”

Your chest ached.

You kissed him, slow and deep and sure.

And thought, yeah.

Somehow, it was him too.

[janecafe]

future spouse's pac: getting to know them in deeper way

uno - dos - tres

˚⊱🍀⊰˚

to book a personal paid reading here

this reading was based on the tarot & oracle cards itself. it not totally foretells the future outcome however everything is yet not set into the stone, the reader is advised to read at their own risk. we still have the rights to make our own dreams and faith. peace!

i will use him or her, she or he as a general point of view of this reading from which is the strongest energy i'm gonna pick up for each pile. regardless of the gender, you can still view or change the pronoun by your preferred gender.

©janecafe 2025

POV: kudos to all hardworking tarot readers out there, it was my first time to read this big pack of energy and i never knew it would drain the hell out of me. it also took me weeks to complete and finished this reading so a big salute! 🍵

sections ⋆

- overall personality, traits & quirks

- physical appearance

- mentality, beliefs or habits

- zodiac signs, letters & relevant numbers

- places and directions

₊˚ʚ 𝐔𝐍𝐎 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

i. overall personality traits & quirks

he is focusing on himself more onto his financial needs. he is probably busy working on things he needs, despite the doubt, the percentage of faith is higher. i can't totally say, he is afraid to fail but he strongly wants to build stable finances and establish a name on his career.

he is probably someone that is highly respected in his career. someone who maybe abuses power somehow in his job and career. he got the position that is influential, leading or top-level. one of the reasons are- this is his way to protect his bubble, he worked hard for that. it probably took him years to build and achieve that position and life.

however looking on the brighter side, he is detail oriented, career focused, dependable and is willing to work collaboration with his co-workers and teammates. he wants his skills and experiences to contribute to the company for a better and productive work environment. high chances he may also be a business owner and entrepreneur.

i think people have harsh opinions and may have false accusations with your person. as you can see, he exudes a negatively impact from people's perspective.

he also has an obsession over his hair. for him, it must be clean and neat. (came out of nowhere ehihi✌🏻)

this person, is the one that will encourage and support you a lot but it seems like you were just numb enough to think of that, like to think that he likes you at first because you've heard people's opinions towards him that affect on how you look with this person.

you may work with this person, maybe a boss, a mentor or whatsoever it is, but the important recipe here is that they're known to your work and well-experience.

i can say that the connection may start as casual and hostile from the starting months or even years.

he also likes to yell at tv, it was the show he was yelling at as if he was going to be heard.

another description of him is- he is a cold-fish person but also a lone wolf.

signs you can look: feeling charismatic. being more creative than before. new friendships. felt satisfied with your own. a big house celebration. trust issues. desperate to live on your own. desperate to move.

ii. physical appearance

he has an immaculate appearance, even if he wears rags it's an A1 as it is. his hooded pair of eyes fits perfectly to his face. if i were to describe his eyes language it's beady and heavy, it more has sad emotions that describe his entire aura and mood.

as i said, the hair will be neat and clean. it is also thick and soft.

he may have dry and chapped lips. but the teeth are also prominent, maybe there's a gap between his teeth or like a vampire/fang teeth. his height is intimidating, someone who is gifted kinda lofty. (this is how i describe him bcs i am smol ehihi ✌🏻)

let's see what i can get more here. ohh, body yes. it's obvious that it's not attractive enough for most but i think it's healthy and i can't say that his body is very muscular but his chest and stomach is fine. it's not too thin nor fat.

iii. mentality, beliefs or habits

he is a volunteer of a new perspective and trials in life. he is a family-centric person, building a peaceful household is one of his goals and beliefs. i think, it's important for him to choose the right partner.

he is the type of person that won't get immediately in a relationship despite the connection and feelings may build he would likely withdraw or run away from it. it's like he knows himself very well, he knows when he's in love "he gives and risks it all"- so that's his way to avoid the ache feeling. he is knows he's boundaries.

he believes in learning and continues the improvement of every individual. he believes that there is kindness despite people's harsh opinions of him, he can't blame them if that's what they think or perceive him.

he is a thrifty person but is willing to spend money for branded things and important people in his life.

iv. zodiac signs, names, letters & relevant numbers

gale, abigale, francis, francisco, frank, kath, cath, kaye, kate, cecil, cecilia, maria, marian, marie, rich, richard, ed, edward, edwin, eddy, brent, bench, robert, romeo, rob, rock, julie, jillian, julia, julian, james, rey. that's all the names i've got. ✌🏻

6, 37, 28, 10, 19, 12, 88, 22.

scorpio, virgo, sagittarius (2x), aquarius and taurus (3x)

v. places and directions

park, office, lake, grand parents house or old (haunted) house, small town, simply north.

★ back to the main list

₊˚ʚ 𝐃𝐎𝐒 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

i. overall personality traits & quirks

she is a carefree person. someone who looks after a bigger picture. i think she knows how to appreciate things, she's just happy whatever life and people treat her. she has a very pure soul. it's like kindness is never a wrong choice, but for her perspective, it's priceless to receive kindness from others as well.

she's too optimistic. she's not that kind of person who bluffs and talks negatively to others. she's not into that negative vibe. she's balanced and mindful when talks.

her intelligence and fair treatment to others is absolutely beautiful.

as well, she loves to inspire others. when she works she's determined and goal-driven. she's loyal to those people who gain her trust, her selflessness shows no personal agenda. if she thinks you are trustworthy then you are worth risking.

i think she has an oily or sweaty face and body. well that's normal though maybe this is one of the reasons why she's always carrying tissues.

she has a deep love for nature, animals and rain.

just another secret to add, she likes to sing but i can say that her voice is good to hear. 😅

ii. physical appearance

okay, with the tower card. if i'm not mistaken, she's tall and this makes her incredible to people's point of view asides from her personality of course.

her eyes had a tinge of freedom and power, on the outer it's large and has a gentle expression.

her side profile and lips are perfectly fine. her overall aura is very zen energy. (jennie song, ehihihi ✌🏻)

i think she has brown skin or may have a dark complexion.

iii. mentality, beliefs or habits

she believes that passion is the one that makes us successful. if you love and enjoy what you are doing you are considered successful from her perspective.

she believes that love comes in the most unexpected way. the type of love that is slow burn- letting the faith unfold its unexpected moments because for her love will leave a big impact on life. those love that's hard to predict, that the divine intervention and power has do it's own timing to find her by grace and truth.

she also has an optimistic mindset.

iv. zodiac signs, names, letters & relevant numbers

names; sophia, susie, jake, jan, john, julie, jennifer, jen. biblical names like david and aaron.

moon and venus. libra(2x), pisces(3x), taurus, aries, cancer (3x)

18, 7, 169, 8888, 48, 9, 4, 25.

v. places and directions

cinema, library, cafe, street, under the table, under the tree, church, lake, underground, balcony, party, cosplay event. a place where most of the weather is scorching hot or summer in simple terms.

★ back to the main list

₊˚ʚ 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

i. overall personality traits & quirks

this is someone who trusts the flow of life. he is not afraid of what comes next even if it does not turn out well. he thinks that conflict, errors and challenges are a normal part of living. he understood of pushing himself through hard for the best because that's how he gets stronger.

he is uncommunicative about his plans and goals that somehow people seem to wonder what life he could have behind those eyes. his voice is all that matters to him.

anyway, he laughs a lot too. if you will personally know this person, you would think that they're the smartest, coolest and most beautiful person you've ever met.

he may have small eye glasses. he is interested in writing, reading and painting one of these might be his daily routine habits.

this person has a deep love and interest in historical places and the supernatural. to simplify, he is interested in the occult but not in black magic especially those called ritual to lure someone. he is not a big fan of that. he thinks love comes in a natural way and in divine timing.

he is not a typical person that gets carried away by his emotions. he is serious about handling his life, perhaps, time is important to him too. he doesn't waste time in a senseless chase.

ii. physical appearance

for his physical appearance, i think he is not into trendy, nice and branded clothing. he is more into casual and plain.

he has a round and cute face shape. there's some prominent detail on his whole body- it can be moles, scar or tattoo.

his hair is short and spiky or curly, it structured his head bone. i also think he has thick eyebrows that compliment his whole face. it was the first one to get noticed by people.

he is mature and old compared to his age, people get shocked knowing his real age because it seems like his appearance is not applying for his age.

overall, he is an attractive person.

iii. mentality, beliefs or habits

i think he's into smoking, lighting a candle or incense he may believe it will bring peace and knock senses.

he believes in organizing and cleaning workspaces because it helps him to determine and focus on work.

he may also be into chewing gum, it's just a habit of him that you can't take away.

iv. zodiac signs, letters & relevant numbers

sun and rising. capricorn (3x), pisces, aries(2x), gemini, scorpio, cancer.

harry, henry jacob benjamin blake juana olivia oliver ava amelia amira akira emile akasha aisha anne ann diane diana summer sophia sophie sai sey atasha, joseph, sky, ryan.

34, 13, 11, 9,5, 20

v. places and directions

cafeteria, school, hotel, casino, bat, beach, zoo, police station, lobby, hallway, south direction.

★ back to the main list

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Choose One (Chapter 1) by Uzumaki Rebellion

Characters: Elijah "Smoke" Moore and Elias "Stack" Moore (characters in the Michael B. Jordan movie "Sinners"). Lena Blackwell (OC).

Warning(s): Adult language, Angst, Pre-Sinners movie.

Summary: Lena Blackwell works in an illegal after-hours Black & Tan club in Bronzeville where she seduces twin brothers Smoke and Stack. Each brother has qualities she likes and she embarks on an illicit affair with both. All is well until one of the twins starts catching feelings.

Word Count: 3.8K

Masterlist HERE.

"See-line woman (see-line)

Dressed in red (see-line)

Make a man (see-line)

Lose his head (see-line)"

Nina Simone – "See-Line Woman"

She fucked them both.

Smoke and Stack.

Seducing the twin brothers was easy, but confusing at the start.

She met Stack first. The gold in his teeth gleamed in the light of the Sunset Café, one of the most popular Black and Tan clubs in the Bronzeville section of Chicago. Lena Blackwell worked behind the bar instead of the floor, where jam packed circular tables faced an at capacity dance floor moving to the sounds of the latest jazz band snazzed up in tuxedos.

Although the Sunset Café advertised itself as a supper club and a popular music venue, people along the stroll knew it was a higher class speakeasy. Unlike other clandestine establishments with secret code words whispered to get in and concealed entrances to deceive law enforcement and politicians, the Sunset owners paid off low-salaried policeman to look away. Their mob ties kept money in the right pockets to warn of raids and shakedowns from other gangsters. People wanted liquor and any other spirits they could get their hands on in a city that was supposed to be as dry as the Sahara.

Stack slithered over to the far end of the long polished mahogany table with a toothpick wedged between his gums. For over twenty minutes, he rapped to her while she tried to keep the prohibited drinks flowing.

"You should come work for me," he said, sizing her up with blatant lust in his bold brown eyes.

"I'm not a whore for you to put on the stroll, mister. Order another drink or leave me be."

He gave her a crooked grin with his sexy lips, then admired her perfectly coiffed hairdo styled with pin curls and slathered in Sweet Honey Brown pomade. Lena cut him to the quick.

"I know a pimp when I see one," she snapped, mixing drinks for one of the female servers.

"I ain't mean it like that baby. This is a legit business proposition. I'ma go back home and open a juke. I need a talented drink mixer such as yoself."

His delta accent was raspy and thick like overcooked grits. He was one of them sorry souls who migrated from the dirty south. She wondered if his feelings got hurt when he discovered the north was no different than the low down redneck peckerwoods he ran away from.

"Mmm hmm," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I'm serious. Think about it. Lemme have some cold water," he said.

Lena reached down into a false shelf and poured Stack some high grade illegal moonshine. She slid the glass to him and he guzzled it down.

"Stack!"

Lena tilted her head to see the caller.

Well, damn.

The head of the Bronzeville syndicate gestured toward Stack. Ernie Miller, the Black godfather of the south side, was wide in the gut and built low to the ground like a bulldog. A dangerous cat, who carried a switchblade known to cut throats on a whim.

Stack slid a fat wad of cash out of his pocket and laid a crisp twenty on the counter.

"Keep the change for your tip," he said, winking at her.

The change from his tab would cover her rent for two months.

He stuffed the rest of his money in his pocket where a shiny set of brass knuckles dangled, and left the bar to join Ernie. For the first time, Lena took notice of Stack's finely tailored brown suit and the sharp creases in his pants. He had syndicate connections. A gangster. And a good tipper. She watched him enter a secret door in the back and never saw him again that night.

Two days later, as she started work at the bar, she spotted Stack nursing a drink at the far end, listening to an older barfly chat away to him. He drained the last of what was in his glass and Lena offered him some cold water.

Stack looked at her in confusion and shook his head in the negative.

She worked her shift, expecting Stack to hit on her at the bar again, like most men did.

He didn't.

"Cat got your tongue tonight, mister?" she teased, wiping down a spill near his arm from another patron.

He stared at her and then turned away to watch chorus girls tear up the Black Bottom dance in short dresses. Maybe she'd been too curt for him last time, and he took the hint. Ironically, that made her take a sudden interest.

He was tall, fine-looking, and a sharp dresser. She wondered if he smelled as good as he looked. Her eyes stayed on him until he wandered off to take an empty seat next to Ernie in a far left corner with some other broad-shouldered men.

"What was he drinking?" she asked another bartender.

Max, a reed-thin high yella man with a nasally voice, glanced at her.

"A South Side and the last glass was some Smoke."

"Eww, he likes that Smoke shit? That could kill him," she said, crinkling her nose.

"Them ex soldiers like that cloudy fuel alcohol."

"How you know he's an ex soldier?"

Max held out his hand and wiggled it.

"His hands. They shake a little bit. Lotta them war boys came back messed up."

Lena couldn't imagine the jovial man she met the other night acting shell-shocked. She reached under the bar and grabbed some gin. Adding some lime, sugar, and a bit of mint, she made a fresh glass of South Side.

"I'll be right back," she said.

Her heels click-clacked on the floor and she passed several raucous tables enjoying the floor show. Ernie had stepped away to talk to some people two tables over. She placed the South Side in front of the ex soldier.

"Thought you might enjoy this better than that rot gut you were drinking earlier," she said.

He glanced down at the drink and a slow smile raised the corners of his lips. No gold on his teeth. She studied his features, his hair, and the large build of his body. This had to be the same man.

"What they call you around here?" she asked.

"Smoke."

"Not Stack?"

He showed more teeth and some dimples.

"No. Just Smoke."

He had a twinkle in his eye and he chuckled softly.

"Where you from?" she asked.

"Mississippi."

"You really opening a juke down there?"

He squinted at her, but before he could answer, Ernie returned.

"Let's go," Ernie said, grabbing his coat.

The soldier stood and brushed against her. She looked up into his eyes and shivered. He reached down for the drink she prepared for him and sipped it down in front of her.

"Thank you," he said, handing the glass back to her.

She clasped it with both hands, feeling woozy by the scent of his cologne. He grabbed his suit coat, and she glimpsed the gun in a holster strapped to him.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice soft like cotton.

Lena stepped aside and touched her forehead. The man had her breaking out in a sweat.

Two more men caught up to them near the bar and that's when she gasped, seeing double. The man who called himself Smoke greeted his twin brother Stack. Lena returned to her post and Stack peeled back his lips, showing her gold in his mouth. She ended up grinning, and he leaned an elbow on the bar.

"You look even more beautiful when you smile," Stack said.

Staring at them both, she could tell they were physically identical, but the personalities, their auras…so opposite.

One thing was for sure, seeing them together…she was smitten.

And she wanted them both.

Stack usually showed up at the Sunset around nine.

Lena figured out his routine quickly because out of the two twins, Stack liked to party and be around the nightlife the most. He stood out in a crowd of men and the ladies loved him.

The Sunset Café started advertising to lure more women into the place for capitalistic gain. Originally the owners created it as a gentlemen's club, but in order to stay lucrative during prohibition, they had to open up the market to new customers, and women loved to drink.

To hide the odorous stench of bootleg hard liquor that could turn female customers away, new cocktails were created adding syrups and various fruit juices to sweeten the bitter taste. The club manager ordered all bartenders to add more cherries, orange slices, and canned chucks of pineapples in the drinks to appeal to the good-time girls who sought excitement. Especially the white ones.

White women loved the Sunset.

White men loved it too, and the forbidden allure of rubbing shoulders with negroes brought out their lascivious side. Everyone in Chicago knew that colored folks couldn't have their own entertainment spaces without white folks sniffing for some action in the mix. As much as they pretended to hate negro people, they sure couldn't stay away from them. Colored patrons and performers tickled their libidinous fantasies. The best music, the best food, and the best dancing happened on the south side where negroes were crowded together. They didn't call it Bronzeville for nothing.

Lena eyed the entrance. Stack was due to swagger through any minute.

The supper hour kept the bar less hectic as folks ate garnished devilled eggs, green beans, steaks, fried catfish, buttermilk-dipped fried chicken, with the added sides of creamy macaroni and cheese with generous slices of honey cornbread.

Max flipped through his tattered, olive-colored copy of the H.P. Dreambook. A man wearing a turban in front of a crystal ball illustrated the cover. He pestered busboys, servers, and Lena about their dreams so he could search them up in his book and find the corresponding numerical interpretation to play the numbers. Another bartender named Frank polished glasses and worked the other end of the counter.

"C'mon Lena, your turn, what you dream last night?" Max asked.

"I don't really have dreams."

"Everybody dreams. Bernice, what about you?"

Bernice scratched an itch on her prominent nose and thought about her answer while she waited for Lena to pour whiskey into three tumbler glasses.

"The night before, I dreamed about going to Paris and seeing Josephine Baker," Bernice said.

She spun around and shook her hips.

"Y'all think she really dances over there naked wearing bananas?" Bernice asked.

"Lemme see, travel… bananas…dancing…" Max murmured.

He circled numbers in his book with a stubby pencil. Lena placed the drinks on Bernice's tray and tapped her foot waiting for Max. Two other female servers went to Frank to fill their orders.

"Okay…two…twenty-nine…seventeen," Max said.

He reached into his tip pocket and pulled out a coin, handing it to Bernice.

"Give that to Melvin and tell him to combinate my numbers," he said.

"You give your own money to the numbers man," Bernice said.

She flounced away from the bar, and Max sucked his teeth.

Stack strolled in and took off his hat and coat, leaving it with the coat check girl. He surveyed the room and two gleeful white women sauntered over to him.

"Them ofays sure do love them some Big Stack," Max said.

Bernice returned with another drink order. She glanced at Stack, too.

"Can you blame them? Look at him…just a big stiff drink I'd love to pour down my throat."

"Man can't even get into the club without women flocking to him," Max said.

"Those two wait to see him every week. They reserve the table closest to the door to catch him," Bernice added. "I ain't never seen him with anything darker than a paper bag, though."

"That's cuz you and those ladies are at the top of the hierarchy."

"What are you bumping your gums about now, Max?" Bernice sighed.

"Niggas out here go for color first, hair texture second, and shape last. Listen to me…don't roll your eyes…white girls and you lightskins…that would be you Bernice with your mixed ass…are at the top. If a woman ain't that, they'll take a brownskin, like Lena, if they have good hair. But if they can't have number one or two, a woman has to at least have a good shape. See, Bernice here, she only got one and two—"

"I got a cute shape, too! I'm all three!" Bernice protested.

"Not with those knock knees and small tits…anyway, like I was saying…you gotta have what's on that list or you won't get no attention in this club. That's why Lena is behind the bar and not on the floor with you all night getting the fat tips. Facts is facts, and that man over there likes to have all three."

They watched Stack as he charmed the women blocking him from the rest of the club.

"Hmmph. Men are stupid," Bernice huffed. "Miss Two-out-of-three, can I get three shots of rum?"

"Coming right up, Miss Three-out-of-three," Lena said.

Bernice cackled, then took the drinks away.

"I never noticed she had knock knees," Lena whispered to Max.

Stack sauntered over with the women and their loud chatter livened up the counter.

"Hey Max," Stack said.

"Good to see you this evening, Mr. Moore," Max said, taking on his polished bartender voice.

He dropped his dream book under the counter.

"What can I fix for you tonight, sir?"

Max waited for the order. Lena headed over to another patron who wanted hooch.

"Ladies, what would you like to drink?" Stack asked.

The first woman, a shapely red head with narrow features asked for a Sidecar, and the second woman, a wide-eyed brunette, requested a Malört.

"You like that bitter stuff?" Stack asked.

Lena clocked the brunette's curling edges from perspiration, and the slight roundness of her nose. To a regular white person, she could pass as Italian or even a Jewish Russian. However, the hair, the extra curve in her ass, and the nervous fluttery eyes told the truth to Lena. The woman glanced at her; a mutual understanding passed between them that she would be treated as a white woman. Who was she to judge what people had to do to survive a depression?

If Stack knew, he didn't let on. Max gave them their drinks and Stack turned his steady focus on Lena.

"You look real nice tonight, Lena."

"Thank you, Mr. Moore," she said.

"When you wear all those curls, it makes your pretty eyes look mysterious—"

"Stack," the redhead interjected.

Her tone came out sharply, saying his name.

"I'm talking, baby, give me a minute," he said.

The bass in his voice caused her lips to bunch up. Her brunette friend sipped the Malört and looked away.

"I didn't come down here to watch you talk to a bartender," the redhead whined.

"Bitch, I don't care what you came here to do."

Max stepped in to de-escalate.

"Mr. Moore, what would you like to have?"

Lena left them to serve other people, and Stack dismissed the two women. He conferred with Max and the floor show began, capturing his attention. Stack loved watching the dancers. He probably ran through most of them based on his reputation. Irritation stretched across his face and Lena served him the moonshine he loved.

"Those girls don't know how to act when you talk to other women," she said.

"I'm tired of them dingy broads anyway. They both have dry coochie and bad attitudes. White bitches love slumming with dark dick, but act all bent outta shape if a colored woman gets a tiny bit of attention."

"You do know one of them is colored, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

He grinned and looked deep into Lena's eyes. She gave him a sly smirk and his eyes drank her in.

"You want some more?" she asked, enunciating each word.

Stack watched her succulent red lips and his gaze dipped to the top of her white blouse, eyeballing the outline of her breasts.

"You undressing me with those eyes, Mr. Moore?"

Dimples.

"I think you're undressing me," he said.

"I been did that," she teased, and sashayed away to serve a counter rush of older men with their mistresses.

She knew he kept his eyes on her ass the way she intended by swinging her hips extra hard.

He loved watching her.

For weeks she acted coquettish and purred his last name any time she served him. Ernie treated him and Smoke as his most trusted muscle men. If he needed an enemy whacked, he sent the Smoke Stack twins with the chopper to deliver a Chicago overcoat first class. Stack strutted around the club with a dominance that aroused her. Most tough guys annoyed her, their performative masculinity a tremendous joke to her.

Not Stack.

He oozed overt power, and she wanted a taste of that in her bed.

"Be careful, Lena, being a gangster's woman ain't the life you want," Max warned on a different night.

He caught her ogling Stack. Lena loved the way his thighs stretched the material of his pants, and she licked her lips at the heavy bulge in the crotch. What she would give to sit on all that hefty weight. She flirted with the gangster using long unblinking stares on him, and lightly touched his hand whenever she served glasses of rum, gin, or the moonshine he liked to call dog soup. Eventually, he would just beeline to the bar to greet her the moment he walked into the club. He only had eyes for her.

Women were easy for Stack to catch because they threw themselves at him. She lured him in night by night, forcing him to chase her, keeping him expectant, and on his toes. The man hadn't chased a woman for a long time and it showed.

Her calculated seduction worked.

He started bringing her things. Diamond earrings. Real ones. Fancy gold hair clips and chocolate candy in heart boxes. He asked around and found out her favorite snack was the roasted peanuts sold a block away on the street from an old German man. He left her small warm bags at the bar before her shift started on Fridays to last her all weekend. She showed up to work one night and Max could barely contain himself. He handed her a large box with a knee-length fur coat inside.

He asked her out a few times, but she played demure, citing the rules of employees not fraternizing with employers.

"Aw Lena. I don't own this place…I work for the man who does. He pays your checks, not me."

"The other girls will be mad if they see me with you."

"Fuck 'em."

"I'll think about it."

He floated for a week after she said that. Like most men, he wanted a slut to fuck in private, but a good girl to woo in public.

A month later, Lena had a rough night with some rowdy patrons. Lower-level men of Ernie's syndicate. Stack had been out of town on business, and she missed interacting with him. His flirty nature kept her work nights fun, and they flew by fast. Without him, they dragged on for hours.

After Lena helped clean the bar area and counted money at closing, the numbers man slid over to Max and handed him a fifteen dollar win.

"Holy shit!" Max shouted.

He turned to Lena, his eyes shiny with joy.

"I'm taking you to Al's Diner for steak and eggs!"

Lena grabbed her coat and purse and walked out of the club with Max. Bernice joined them. They caught a cab to Al's Diner in a seedier area, but the food was delicious. Lena ate her fill and listened to Max make plans to buy his girlfriend new dresses, and a new tailored suit with nice dress shoes to replace the clodhoppers he wore outside of work. Bernice planned a rent party and Lena promised to spread the word and address to their shared apartment building. Max offered to pay for all the food at her party so she could sell dinner plates and keep all the proceeds.

After Max splurged on chocolate malts, she shared another cab ride with Bernice to her second-floor walk-up.

Another week passed, and Stack didn't come to the Sunset. Lena worried that the Italian mafia under Al Capone's orders gunned him down in the windy city or Bugs Moran and the Irish mob caught him slipping and threw him in Lake Michigan. Smoke huddled with Ernie and the other men in their crew, talking animatedly. She made her way around the bar counter. Tensions around the city had been thick among the immigrant groups, but colored folks kept on striving for better. Tempted to ask the other twin about his brother, she felt two muscular arms lift her up when she headed to the secret storage room to retrieve more spirits.

"Stack!"

Her heart triple-thumped in her chest like a train roaring down an uneven track. She turned and threw her arms around his neck instinctively.

"You missed me," he whispered in her ear.

The vibration of his voice along the delicate skin on her neck thrilled her. The breathiness in the shell of her ear heated the blood in her veins.

She kissed him.

Smashed her plump wanton lips across his fuller ones and slipped her tongue past the seam, tasting the strong whiskey on his breath. Their heads slanted for the proper angle to slide warm tongues together. His deep kisses sent love pulses straight down to her toes. Stack tongued her breathless hidden behind an alcove. He cradled her face before pulling away first.

"Damn. I ain't been kissed like that before," he drawled out in his delta accent.

She held his longing gaze in the yellow light of the hanging lamp that dangled above them. As tough as he was, his face looked so gentle and pure up close. Like a big ole puppy that just wanted to play fetch with her heart.

"Go out with me tonight," he asked.

She tickled the facial hair on his chin, then ran a slender finger down the part in his hair.

"How 'bout you go out with me?"

He grinned.

"Where?"

"It won't be nowhere high class like you're used to, but you'll have a good time. Promise."

He lunged for her mouth again, wrapping his beefy arms around her waist, lifting her off her feet.

"Oh, no wonder it's taking you so long to bring those bottles out," her co-worker Frank said.

Lena jerked away from Stack and grabbed the bottles she came for. She rushed past Frank, beaming all the way back to the bar.

Chapter 2 HERE.

A.N.:

Thanks for your patience! It's easier to do little chapters to buy me time to finish it. But y'all read so darn fast though!

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[lyvhie]

★ ˙ ̟ ─── . “i like it”.

donghyuck x reader

| summary | who would have thought that being evasive about something important would lead to Donghyuck losing you? | cw | fluff, slight jaemin x reader, jealousy, maybe angst if u squint, pet names. | a/n | changing this again 😇 someday i'll stop 😔 ALSO, my sweet wife @peterm4rker will be writing an awesome fic for jaemin following the events of this one, so stay tuned 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Contrary to what everyone believed, you and Haechan weren’t officially lovers but existed in a complicated, undefined space. Friends who occasionally kissed, shared intimate nights, and blurred the lines between friendship and something more. Hyuck was content with this arrangement, or at least, that’s what he told himself.

Things with you have been this way since the last year of high school, when you were each other's first kiss. Back then, you were both a bit clueless and hadn’t had much experience with other people, so you suggested it might be nice, and less awkward, to practice with each other since you were friends.

After that, this dynamic continued over the years. If you were bored or just in the mood, you’d make out until your mouths were sore. But that was it—nothing exclusive, nothing complicated, no feelings were involved. These were the unspoken rules between you two. Perhaps rules isn’t the right word, but it was a silent agreement you adhered to.

Both you and Hyuck had your fair share of flings, yet, amusingly enough, you always ended up coming back to each other. And he liked that. There was something undeniably comforting about it, the way it felt so effortless, so familiar, like slipping into your favorite sweater on a cold day. It was simple, warm, and safe. It wasn’t complicated, it was home.

Over time, being with you felt so right that he no longer desired anyone else. Everything about your dynamic was easy and, most importantly, simple. It provided a safe haven for his fears, a sanctuary from the expectations he dreaded. Commitment was a word that stirred anxiety in him, a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep. The thought of fully opening up, of risking his heart, scared him.

So, he clung to the simplicity of what you had, where no questions were asked, and no demands were made. It was his way of staying close while keeping his fears at bay, holding on to you without the risk of losing himself.

Haechan believed that as satisfied as he was with you, you felt the same about him. In his mind, you both fit perfectly into the arrangement you had. After all, why change something that worked so well? To him, everything was simple, easy, and just the way it should be.

However, things weren't as black and white for you as they were for Haechan. Over the years, you had hoped that what you shared would evolve into something deeper, something more defined. You craved a sense of permanence, a relationship that was established, tangible, and secure. What started as a casual connection had grown into something much more significant for you, and the lack of clarity began to weigh.

While Donghyuck found comfort in the ambiguity, you found yourself longing for certainty. The undefined boundaries that once felt liberating now felt confining.

It was no secret how fond you were of him. After all, you had been together for a long time, sharing each other's highs and lows, witnessing the best and worst moments side by side. The bond you had was undeniable, and with time, you felt it was only natural to express your feelings. You thought it would be okay to bring up the idea of something more, to gently nudge the relationship in a new direction.

So, you began to hint at your desires in subtle ways, slipping them into conversations, testing the waters at every suitable opportunity. You teased him, dropping little clues, hoping he'd pick up on your intentions and reveal his own. Each time, you watched closely, searching for any sign that he might feel the same way.

You'd casually ask questions about where he thought you both would be in the future, framing it as mere "curiosity." If he ever saw you both settling down, or if he thought things might change someday. Each question was laced with hope, a subtle push toward something more concrete.

But Donghyuck deflected. He'd laugh it off, turn the conversation back to something lighthearted, or give vague answers that neither confirmed nor denied anything.

And yes, he wasn't oblivious, far from it. He noticed your hints, understood the implications, but chose to play along as if he didn't. He pretended not to see the deeper meaning behind your words, it was easier for him to feign ignorance than to confront the truth, to face the possibility that things might change in ways he wasn't ready to handle.

Plus, he couldn't quite understand why you suddenly wanted to change everything. Why complicate something that, in his eyes, was already working perfectly? There were no conflicts, no major issues between you. Why bother putting a label on your relationship when things were smooth as they were?

Donghyuck thought that if he just waited it out, the dust would settle, and you'd drop the topic. He figured things would naturally return to how they were—cuddle sessions, late-night calls, movie nights, making out and, most importantly, no difficult questions about the future. It was a cycle he found comfort in, and he was sure you'd come back to it too.

For a while, he was right. You did stop bringing up the subject, and he felt a wave of relief. Everything seemed to return to normal, the familiar rhythm of your relationship restored. He thought he had successfully navigated the storm, and things were back on track.

But the peace didn’t last long.

At first, he assumed you were just caught up with life—work, family, college—the usual exhausting demands of adulthood. It made sense that you'd take longer to respond to his texts, miss his calls, or cancel your usual meetups at each other's places. He reasoned that it was temporary, just a busy spell you were going through.

However, as time went on, the excuses didn't quite add up. The distance between you grew before he could even fully realize it. Sure, you still talked, but only through messages, as you had stopped answering his calls. Even those conversations felt different-strange, tense, lacking the warmth they once had.

It was as if you were slowly becoming strangers, the easy familiarity between you fading away. An unspoken abyss seemed to be widening, pulling you further apart with each passing day.

He couldn't understand. Was it something he did? Did he say something wrong? Did he forget an important date? No, that couldn't be it-you wouldn't be acting this way if it were something so simple. Was it about the way he avoided your questions? But he was sure he had handled that well, giving you answers that, in his mind, should have put your concerns to rest.

Donghyuck replayed every conversation in his head, searching for a clue, a moment where things might have gone wrong. He thought he had done everything right, keeping things easy and light, steering clear of anything that might cause friction. Yet, despite his efforts, the growing distance between you suggested otherwise, leaving him confused and increasingly anxious about what might have caused the shift.

Once again, he decided to leave things as they were. You might just need some time for yourself, he thought. He just needed to be patient. That was all.

So, he tried to stay calm, holding onto the hope that this was just a phase, a temporary distance that would eventually close. He reassured himself that you weren't slipping away, that he wasn't... losing you. But deep down, a quiet fear lingered, growing harder to ignore with each passing day.

At some point, it became too much for him to bear. He missed you-terribly. The ache of your absence was overwhelming, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to make things right, whatever it took. He decided he would go to your place and apologize, even if he wasn't entirely sure what he had done wrong. He just knew he had to fix it.

In his mind, he planned everything meticulously. He would bring your favorite food, a small peace offering to show he cared. He would listen, really listen, to what you had to say, without deflecting or brushing things off. And then, he would apologize, sincerely, for anything he had done to hurt or upset you. He was ready to do whatever it took to mend the rift between you, to bring things back to the way they were.

And that's when things, already bad, started to get worse. As planned, he went to your favorite restaurant to pick up the peace offering. But that's when he saw you. His heart did that familiar happy dance it always did whenever you were around, but it soon came to an abrupt stop. Was he thrilled to see you after what felt like an eternity? Absolutely. What didn't sit well with him was what he was seeing.

Who was the guy you were with? Was this the reason behind the headaches, the exhaustion, the countless canceled plans? The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Not only had you lied to him, but you were with someone he didn't even know. And worse—it was clearly a date. The way you were dressed, more put-together than usual, was a dead giveaway. This wasn't just a casual meetup; it was something more.

He noticed the way you smiled, the soft giggles that escaped your lips, the way you played with the end of your hair, something you did when you were feeling shy or nervous. He saw the subtle scrunch of your nose, a telltale sign of your genuine amusement, something he had always adored. It was everything you used to do with him, now directed toward someone else.

The sight of you laughing, seemingly carefree, with another person shattered the hope he had been clinging to, leaving him standing there, stunned and, dare he say, heartbroken. A wave of emotions crashed over him. Confusion, betrayal, an ache he couldn't ignore. But above all, there was jealousy.

It gnawed at him, a bitter, burning sensation that he couldn't shake as he watched you with someone else, sharing moments that once belonged to him and only him*.*

He knew what he had said about not being exclusive, that it was just for the sake of avoiding the labels and formalities of the situation. But this—this wasn't supposed to happen. Not when you had once casually told him that you didn't need to date anyone else when he was by your side.

He remembered the words he'd spoken about not wanting to change things, about not needing to turn what you had into a conventional romantic relationship. But even so, this—this moment—was never supposed to come.

You had felt a pair of eyes burning into the soul for a while now. You couldn't help but glance around, trying to figure out where it was coming from. But there was nothing, just a person leaving the restaurant in quick steps.

You blinked a couple of times. Was it just you, or did the back of that person look strangely familiar?

"Hey, everything okay?" Jaemin's concerned voice pulled you back, and you turned your attention to him.

Had you been missing Haechan so much that you were imagining things?

"Yeah, sorry," you said quickly, giving him a small, awkward smile. "I thought I saw someone I knew, don't worry," you waved it off, hoping he wouldn't ask more.

Jaemin smiled softly, his concern still lingering in his eyes, but he didn't push further. "Okay, if you say so," he replied gently, his voice calm and understanding, but he could tell something was off.

Here was the person who had been easing your worries these past few days. You and Jaemin had been friends for a few months now, ever since you first met at a museum. He had offered to guide you through the exhibits, sharing fascinating stories behind the artworks. At first, you assumed he worked there, only to find out later that he was just another visitor like you.

You still remembered how you had worried about taking up his time, only for him to laugh and wave off your concerns, saying it had been a fun walk. That shared experience led to more conversations, and by the end of the visit, you had exchanged numbers. What started as a casual acquaintance quickly blossomed into a comfortable friendship, one that had become a welcome refuge during the tumultuous times with Haechan.

Things with Donghyuck were... a mess, to say the least. It hadn't been as bad when you were still unaware of your true feelings for him. But once you recognized the depth of your emotions, everything became harder to bear. The weight of unspoken words and unmet desires grew heavier each day.

It only worsened when he confirmed, in his subtle yet unmistakable way, that you and he would remain in the same undefined space for the foreseeable future. The realization that nothing would change, that your relationship would stay stagnant, left you feeling trapped in a cycle of longing and frustration.

You sure liked Donghyuck, more than you ever thought you could like someone. But you couldn't keep burying yourself deeper into this hole of uncertainties. That's why, when Jaemin asked you out for the first time, you didn't refuse.

You had noticed his interest in you, and you thought, why not give it a chance? It felt like a welcome change from the storm of emotions that had been weighing you down.

And you were right. Jaemin was caring, attentive, and you shared so much in common. With him, you didn't feel the constant need to second-guess everything or wonder where you stood. He was always direct and sincere, there was no hidden meaning or unanswered questions, offering a sense of clarity that you had been craving, a simplicity that felt refreshing. It was… less intense, less complicated than it was with Haechan.

Jaemin tilted his head slightly, watching you with that warm, curious gaze he always had. “You sure you’re okay? You seem a little distracted tonight,” he asked softly, his concern evident in his tone.

You smiled, feeling a little guilty for letting your thoughts wander. “I’m fine, really. I guess I’m just a bit tired,” you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “But I’m having a great time with you.”

His lips curved into a gentle smile. “I’m glad to hear that. I was worried I was boring you,” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Not at all. You could probably talk about the most random thing, and I’d still be entertained,” you said, chuckling.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Oh, so you’re saying I have that kind of charm, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Don’t let it get to your head, Jaemin,” he laughed too, and for a moment, the tension you'd been feeling earlier seemed to fade away.

“Well, we've spent the whole day together, and it's already," he checked his wristwatch, "real late. I think it's time to take you home, princess," Jaemin said with a teasing smile, his tone light yet affectionate.

"As much as I want to say the opposite, I think you're right," you replied, letting out a small laugh. "I'd hate to turn into a pumpkin or something."

He chuckled, standing up and offering you his hand. "Don't worry, I'd make sure to bring you back to the ball before that happens."

You rolled your eyes at his playful tone but took his hand anyway, letting him guide you out of the restaurant. The evening air was cool and refreshing, and Jaemin stayed close to your side, his presence steady and comforting.

When you reached his car, he opened the door for you with a small bow, earning a laugh from you. "A true gentleman," you teased, sliding into the passenger seat. "Only the best for you," he quipped, winking before closing the door and walking around to the driver's side.

The drive home was filled with easy conversation, the kind that made time seem to slip away. Every now and then, you'd catch him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, a soft smile tugging at his lips as if he were just happy to have you there.

“There you are,” Jaemin said as he parked in front of your house. “Safe and sound,” he added, turning to you with a warm smile.

“Aw, it’s over already?” you said dramatically, a teasing pout on your lips.

“Don’t worry,” he replied, leaning slightly closer to you, his voice dropping into that playful tone that always made you smile. “I have an idea for what we can do next week. If you’re interested, of course.”

“Oh, another date plan so soon?” you leaned closer as well, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Mhm,” he hummed, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “But it’s a surprise, so don’t even think about asking.”

“Then you shouldn’t have told me,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “Now I’m curious.”

Jaemin chuckled softly, his hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered for a moment, just barely grazing your cheek. “I’ll make the wait worth it,” he said softly, his gaze flickering down to your lips.

The air between you shifted slightly, growing more intimate as he leaned closer and closer, his breath almost mingling with yours, his lips just a whisper away from yours and—

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“How long are you planning to stay there?”

You turned your head abruptly, your heart skipping a beat at the familiar voice. There stood Haechan, arms crossed, an annoyed expression on his face as he stared into the car.

Your chest tightened at the sight of him, but you forced yourself to play it cool, letting out a small, frustrated sigh.

Jaemin pulled back, his brow slightly raised as he glanced at Haechan, then back at you. The sudden interruption had shattered the moment.

“Friend of yours?” Jaemin asked, his voice calm but curious, as his eyes searched yours for an answer.

“Yeah, something like that," you replied, laughing awkwardly. "Remember Haechan?"

"Oh, Mr. Gray Area," Jaemin said with a knowing smirk.

“Yep, that’s him,” you said, trying to play it off with a soft chuckle before letting out a small sigh. Quickly, you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle. “By the way, don’t leave yet. You forgot something at my house last time, I’ll take it for you real quick.”

“Alright, pretty, take your time.”

Jaemin smiled, leaning back in his seat as his gaze followed you. Meanwhile, Haechan’s eyes were also fixed on you, his arms crossed as he stood waiting. When you stopped in front of him, his brows rose expectantly.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, trying to keep your tone neutral, though a hint of frustration slipped through.

Haechan shrugged, his expression unreadable. “You were having so many headaches, I wanted to check if you were okay,” he said, the lie rolling off his tongue smoothly.

His gaze flickered to Jaemin, still sitting in the car, who offered him a brief, polite wave. Haechan forced a tight-lipped smile, biting back the urge to roll his eyes. “And apparently, you are,” he added, his voice dropping slightly, laced with sarcasm. “Didn't know you had a thing for bulked-up gym rats. Should I start hitting the gym too, or is he the exception?"

You rolled your eyes, biting back a retort as Jaemin's curious gaze lingered from the car. "Haechan, please—"

"What?" he interrupted, leaning in slightly with a mock-innocent expression. "I just wanna make sure I'm keeping up with your new preferences.”

You lifted a hand to stop him from talking before he could say anything more, and he pressed his lips together in silence right away, though the grumpy expression on his face was impossible to miss.

"Just wait and behave," you said firmly, giving him a pointed look before turning to head inside your house.

Haechan huffed at your words but didn't argue. The moment you disappeared through the door, though, he turned back to Jaemin's car, his gaze narrowing slightly. After a brief pause, he walked closer, his shoes scuffing against the pavement, and knocked on the car window, waiting for Jaemin to lower it.

He leaned in slightly, resting his arms on the edge of the window so he could get a proper look at Jaemin.

Damn. He's hot. That, Haechan couldn't deny. What a handsome man.

Fuck.

He hoped Jaemin had a terrible personality because, honestly, it was unfair for someone to look that good and be a decent person too.

“Yes? Can I help you?” Jaemin asked, a polite smile adorning his face as his brow lifted slightly at the sudden interaction.

Haechan tilted his head, his gaze traveling up and down Jaemin’s figure, taking in every detail as if analyzing him.

“Jaemin, right?” Haechan said back, his lips curving into something between a smirk and a challenge. “Just wanted to see who’s been stealing my girl’s attention from me these days.”

Jaemin let out a small chuckle, tilting his head slightly. “Your girl? Funny, it didn’t seem that way since we started going out.”

Haechan scoffed, but he masked it with a shrug. “Well, she just likes making new friends,” he said casually, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed him.

So this was it, huh? Your sudden distance, the unanswered calls, the excuses—it was all because you’d been going on little dates with this guy. Haechan felt something unpleasant settle in his chest, but he pushed it down, keeping his expression cool.

Jaemin hummed, unfazed by Haechan’s words. His fingers tapped lazily against the steering wheel as he looked at him with mild amusement. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

Haechan let out a dry chuckle, tilting his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jaemin shrugged, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Just saying… You seem a little too interested in her new friends for someone who didn’t want to put a label on things.”

Haechan’s smirk faltered for just a second, but he quickly recovered. “I just like knowing who she spends time with,” he said, his tone light, but there was an edge to it.

Jaemin chuckled, shaking his head. “Right. Well, now you know.” He leaned back in his seat, drumming his fingers against the car door. “Anything else, or can I go back to waiting for her without the interrogation?”

Haechan clicked his tongue, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He wanted to say something, anything, to wipe that amused expression off Jaemin’s face. But before he could come up with a comeback, the front door opened, and you stepped out, holding a jacket in your hands.

As soon as you saw them still talking, you narrowed your eyes. “Is everything okay?” you asked, eyeing Haechan suspiciously.

Jaemin grinned. “Depends on your definition of okay.”

Haechan just huffed, looking away. “Just having a chat,” he muttered.

You sighed, already exhausted. “I don’t even want to know,” you mumbled, handing Jaemin the jacket. “Here, you left this last time.”

Jaemin took it with a grateful smile. “Thanks, pretty.” He shot you a wink, completely ignoring Haechan’s glare.

Haechan clicked his tongue again, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets. “Great. Now that he got what he came for, he can go,” he said, voice dripping with fake sweetness.

Jaemin raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “I was leaving anyway,” he said, flashing you one last smile before rolling up his window. “I’ll text you later.”

You smiled and waved as you watched Jaemin’s car disappear down the street. But the moment he was out of sight, your expression shifted, and you turned to Haechan with a sigh.

“I think you can go too,” you said, your voice even, though you weren’t exactly pleased to see him there. Even if—against your better judgment—your heart twisted in something dangerously close to happiness after so long without seeing him.

“What? Are you mad because I interrupted your little ‘date’?” Haechan scoffed, using his fingers to make exaggerated air quotes.

You rolled your eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh as you moved to walk past him, unwilling to entertain whatever mood he was in. But before you could get too far, he was quick to step in front of you, his hands gently grabbing your shoulders to stop you.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry, I���m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice softer this time, though the usual playful edge was still there. “I just wanna talk. Please?”

His puppy eyes had you folding faster than you’d like to admit. With a sigh, you cleared your throat and gently pushed his hands away, walking past him to your front door. You held it open without a word, and he didn’t waste a second following you inside.

It had only been a few weeks, but as Haechan stepped in, it felt like years since he’d last been here. Everything was the same—the familiar scent of your home, the way your shoes were neatly placed by the door, the dim lighting that made the space feel warm.

He watched as you leaned back against the couch, arms crossed, silently waiting for him to speak. The weight of your gaze made him hesitate, unsure of how to start the conversation, or if he even knew what he wanted to say in the first place.

His throat felt dry as he swallowed hard, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets while his eyes wandered around the room. “You redecorated?” he asked, his voice casual, or at least, trying to sound like it.

You raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“Ah,” he let out a small, awkward chuckle, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Guess it just feels different then.”

“Come on, Haechan,” you sighed, your voice steady but tired. “Just tell me what you’re doing here.”

He frowned slightly, the awkwardness that had filled the room earlier quickly fading as he stepped closer to you. The usual ease in his movements returned as he moved toward the couch.

“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing here’? I missed you,” he said, his voice sincere, genuine as he placed his hands on either side of the couch, leaning in just enough to be close, but still keeping a safe distance, his gaze never leaving yours.

You looked at him, his words hitting you more than you wanted to admit, but you forced yourself to act unimpressed. “Yeah? You came all the way here just to say that? You could’ve just texted me.”

“I did,” he shot back, his voice a little sharper now. “But you left me on read

“Then you should’ve taken the hint that I didn’t miss you.”

He let out a short laugh, though it was laced with bitterness. “Well, I noticed. You’ve been busy, huh? Going out on dates with that guy and all.” His eyes narrowed slightly, the jealousy evident in his voice. “How long have you two been meeting?”

“Why would that be any of your business?”

“I mean, it would be good to know if you started things with him while you were with me,” he said, his voice laced with something you couldn't quite decipher—hurt? Resentment? “Or if it was after you started acting like I don’t exist.”

“With you?” You let out a small, dry laugh. “Donghyuck, we were never together. You made that very clear.”

Haechan’s jaw clenched at your words. He opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Because you were right. He had been the one who insisted on keeping things the way they were. No labels. No commitments. No messy emotions.

But now that he was faced with the reality of what that actually meant—you moving on, finding someone else—he hated it.

“That’s not—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “That’s not fair.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Oh, now it’s not fair?” You shook your head. “It was fair when I was waiting around for you to maybe want something more? When I kept dropping hints, hoping you’d stop pretending you didn’t see them?”

He pressed his lips together, his gaze dropping for a moment. He had seen them. Every single one. And he had ignored them. Every single one.

“Jaemin actually wants to be with me,” you continued, voice softer now but no less firm. “He doesn’t make me feel like I have to prove I’m worth it.”

Haechan’s chest tightened at that. “And I did?”

You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at him, and somehow, that was worse.

He hadn't realized that was how you felt. Sure, he knew he had been difficult, he never denied that, but he never thought he made you feel like you weren’t enough. He thought that by keeping things the way they were, he was protecting what you had, not slowly pushing you away.

“Listen, I…” He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I know I’m an idiot. I know I messed up, and I know I wasn’t being fair to you. I knew what you wanted, and instead of being honest, I chose to pretend I didn’t see it, because I was too scared to do anything about it.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. It wasn’t often that Haechan was this honest. He had always been open with you, yes, but when it came to his own emotions, his fears, his insecurities, he usually buried them under jokes, teasing, and playful distractions. But now, he was just laying it out there, no filter, no deflection.

You swallowed, arms still crossed, but your stance had softened. “…And what exactly were you so scared of?”

He swallowed hard, guilt creeping into his expression. “I didn’t want to lose you,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “I thought if we just kept things the way they were, you’d stay. That I wouldn’t have to face all the scary, complicated parts of actually being with someone.”

“So what?” still, you couldn’t let yourself be swayed so easily. Not when it had taken so much for you to finally step away. “You were scared, so that justifies everything? That makes it okay?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “It doesn’t. And I’m not saying it does.” He ran a frustrated hand over his face before meeting your eyes again. “I just—I need you to know that it wasn’t because you weren’t enough. It was never that. It was me being a coward.”

By now, you were already softening toward him, and he could tell. His hands found your face, cupping it gently.

“I’m really sorry,” he murmured. “I swear I never meant to make you feel that way or push you away. Being without you these past days... it made me think about everything. And I already knew this, but you have no idea how much you mean to me. I realized all those doubts didn’t matter, because, God, it’s you. It’s always been you. I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.”

His eyes stayed locked on yours, his thumbs tracing soft circles on your cheeks. The way he was looking at you… if not love, then something dangerously close to it.

“Please, give me a chance,” he pleaded. “I know I let you down, and I know words aren’t enough to make up for everything I put you through. But I swear, I won’t mess this up again. I’ll show you—show you just how much I want you, how much you mean to me, how much…"

He took a shaky breath, his grip on your face tightening just slightly, as if afraid you’d slip away.

"How much I need you," he finally whispered. "Not just for now, not just because I miss you, but because I don’t know how to be without you anymore. Because every moment without you felt wrong, and I never want to feel that again. Just… let me prove it to you. Please."

You were speechless at his sudden confession. His eyes held the same desperate sincerity as his voice, and you could feel how genuine he was, more than you’d ever seen before. You were sure that, if you wanted, he’d drop to his knees and beg for your forgiveness. Your heart was pounding so violently, you almost felt like it might burst from your chest, just to show him how deeply he affected you without even trying.

You wanted to speak, but you couldn’t as he kept going, probably babbling at this point. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you. You want a real relationship? Let’s do it. You want commitment? I’ll give it to you. Hell, you want me to write it in the sky? Tattoo it on my forehead? I’ll—”

You interrupted him by crashing your lips against his.

His eyes widened in surprise, his breath hitching, but it took only a second for him to snap back to reality. He kissed you back just as desperately, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever. One hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, while the other cradled the back of your neck, fingers tangling into your hair as he poured every ounce of emotion into the kiss.

You could feel the way he melted against you, how his desperation seeped into the kiss, as if he was trying to pour all the words he couldn't say into it. His grip on you tightened, like he was scared you'd slip away if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, his lips chased yours, unwilling to let the moment end. “Does that mean…?” he whispered, eyes searching yours, still uncertain.

You exhaled, resting your forehead against his. “It means… you have a lot to make up for.”

A small, breathy chuckle left his lips, but there was no cockiness, no playfulness—just sheer relief. “I will,” he promised, his hands cradling your face as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

His lips met yours once again, this time more gently, more lovingly. He honestly felt like the luckiest person in the world right now.

He pulled away just slightly, his breath still mingling with yours. “Tell me… you and that Jaeman guy—”

“It’s Jaemin,” you corrected.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, brushing it off. “You and Minjae… how far did you go?” His brows lifted slightly, his thumb grazing your lower lip.

You exhaled a soft laugh. “Is it really important?”

“Very much,” he murmured, tilting his head as his fingers trailed down your jaw. “I need to erase every trace of him off you.”

You rolled your eyes, trying, and failing, to hide the small smile creeping up on your lips. “We didn’t do much more than a few pecks…” you admitted.

Haechan groaned dramatically, as if your words physically pained him. “A few pecks?” he repeated, shaking his head. “Disgusting. Unacceptable.”

Before you could roll your eyes again, he was on you, pressing kiss after kiss against your lips, barely giving you a chance to breathe. Each one was soft yet desperate, as if he were really trying to erase every trace of Jaemin’s touch, replacing every memory with his own.

You let out a breathless laugh, trying to push him away, but he was relentless. He peppered kisses along your cheeks, your chin, your nose, your forehead—everywhere he could reach.

“Okay, stop!” you giggled, placing your hand over his mouth to halt his attack. “I get it already.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he kissed your palm, his lips lingering against your skin.

“I'm making sure there's no room left for Jaeman.”

Jaemin glanced at his phone screen, checking the time for what felt like the hundredth time. His foot tapped against the floor, his eyes flickering to the entrance every time the bell chimed, expecting—no, hoping—to finally see the person he had been so anxiously waiting for: you.

Don’t get him wrong, he was always excited to see you. But today, that excitement was laced with unease. That feeling had settled in his chest the moment you called him, asking to meet. Usually, just the thought of seeing you would have him grinning like an idiot, but something in your tone during that call had put him on edge. There was a distance in your voice, something careful, something that made his nerves spike.

It didn’t help that it had been days since the last time you properly talked or spent time together. That alone was enough to make him feel uneasy. And now, as he sat there waiting, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this meeting wouldn’t be the kind he was hoping for.

He shook his head slightly, trying to push away the nagging thoughts. Maybe he was just overthinking. Maybe you just wanted to see him because you missed him, just like he missed you. And honestly? That was reason enough for him.

The bell rang again, and this time, when he looked up, there you were. His heart did that little flip it always did whenever he saw you, no matter how much he tried to play it cool. He knew you hadn’t known each other for that long, your time together still fresh and new, but there was something about you that made it feel different.

He called your name and waved to catch your attention, his smile appearing almost instantly as soon as he saw yours. You hurried toward the table, slipping into the seat across from him.

"I'm sorry, did I make you wait too long?" you asked, slightly out of breath. "Something came up, and I couldn't help but be late."

That something had a name and a surname—Lee Donghyuck.

The very person who insisted on accompanying you and personally driving you to the café as soon as you mentioned needing to see Jaemin. Not only did he take the longest route possible, driving at a frustratingly slow pace, but he also kept you trapped in the car, stealing kisses and whining about why you had to see Jaemin at all.

You almost had to beg him not to follow you inside the café, and it took a mix of stern scolding and a few more stolen kisses before you were finally free from his relentless affection.

Jaemin chuckled softly, shaking his head and dismissing your apology with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I didn’t wait that long,” he said, his words making you exhale in relief. “Is everything okay? We haven’t really talked much these past few days.”

You smiled sheepishly. “Oh, yes, sorry. It’s just… a lot’s happened, and I didn’t really have the time to catch up with anyone,” you explained with a light chuckle.

Jaemin’s expression softened, and a hint of relief washed over him. “I’m glad it’s just that,” he said, his tone light. “I thought maybe I did something wrong, messed things up between us.”

You couldn’t help but feel a small pang in your chest at his words. He really did care, of course.

“No, nothing like that. It’s just… things have been a bit complicated lately,” you hesitated for a moment, then decided to be honest. “And I just needed some space to think about… us.”

Jaemin's smile faltered just slightly as he noticed the way you fidgeted with the napkin, your lips pressing into a thin line. The way you avoided his gaze for a moment, only to return to meet his eyes, told him everything he needed to know. He was right—this was going to be an unpleasant conversation.

He remained silent, his gaze steady and attentive, nodding slowly as he listened carefully to every word you said. He could tell that you had thought this through, giving you the space you needed to speak without feeling rushed.

“Look, I really enjoyed our time together, it was honestly so much fun, and you’re such a sweet person, but…” You paused for a brief moment, your mind drifting to the little gremlin waiting for you in the car outside the cafe. “I have someone I care deeply about, despite everything that happened. I want to give it a real shot, because… that’s what I’ve been waiting for. And I really thought I was ready to make things work with you, but I can’t do that when my heart belongs to another person.”

“… I see.” His words were simple, but they carried a certain weight. There was no anger, no resentment, just quiet understanding and a hint of sadness. “I guess I can’t really argue with that, can I?”

You watched as he leaned back in his seat, exhaling a slow breath. His expression was composed, but the way his fingers tapped idly against the table gave him away. He looked… upset. Maybe even hurt. You knew you were doing the right thing, but it didn’t make it any easier.

“It’s not that I don’t like you,” you blurted out, feeling the need to clarify. “You are amazing, Jaemin, and you deserve someone just as good as you are. And I’m not—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted gently, offering you a small chuckle—one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He had noticed the way you were starting to fidget, your nervousness creeping in. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re doing something wrong. I appreciate your honesty. I can’t say I’m happy about it, but… I kind of saw this coming.”

You frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

Jaemin tilted his head, studying you for a moment before giving you a knowing smile. “It’s Haechan, isn’t it? The person you were just talking about.”

You nodded sheepishly. Was it really that obvious?

He let out another small chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah… I had a feeling. Especially after our last encounter,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before meeting your gaze again. “Honestly? I wish things were different. I really do. But I get it,” his voice softened. “When someone already has your heart, there’s not much room left for anyone else, is there?”

You had prepared yourself for anger, maybe even disappointment, but this quiet acceptance made it so much harder.

“I really am sorry,” you whispered.

He offered you a small, bittersweet smile. “Don’t be. Just… be happy, alright?” He reached across the table and gave your hand a small squeeze before pulling away. “And if he ever messes up, I’ll be right here to say ‘I told you so,’” he smirked.

You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. “Noted.” Then, hesitating for a moment, you asked, “Would it be stupid of me to ask if we can still be friends?”

Jaemin blinked, then huffed a small laugh. “No, of course not,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’d love that.”

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders at his words, though the guilt still lingered. You had expected this conversation to go much worse—maybe some resentment, maybe some bitterness—but Jaemin was handling it with the same grace and kindness he had always shown you.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely. “For understanding. For everything, really.”

Jaemin leaned back, a fond but slightly teasing smile playing on his lips. “Well, I can’t say I’m thrilled about the outcome, but I meant what I said. I want you to be happy.” He tilted his head, eyes twinkling just a little. “Even if it’s with him.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re making it sound like I chose the worst possible person.”

Jaemin shrugged. “I don’t hate the guy. But let’s just say he’s not exactly my first pick for you.”

“Fair enough,” you admitted, biting back another chuckle.

A comfortable silence settled between you two, and you felt grateful that, despite everything, Jaemin was still Jaemin—kind, understanding, and someone you truly wanted to keep in your life.

Donghyuck jolted in his seat when he glanced at the rearview mirror and saw you saying goodbye to his number one enemy. He clicked his tongue, muttering something under his breath, before quickly looking away as you slid into the car. He tried to act nonchalant, though the urge to have his hands all over you was undeniable.

“So?” He raised his brows, his voice thick with curiosity as he glanced at your smiling face. His mind cursed Jaemin a thousand times over, though he tried to hide it behind a playful demeanor.

“Well, he was very lovely the whole time,” you said, pulling your seatbelt across your body. “And we agreed to stay friends.”

The words hit him like a breath of fresh air, and he let out a relieved sigh, not bothering to hide it this time. For a moment there, he thought you might change your mind, and he’d be left in misery forever.

"Good," he muttered, his grip on the wheel loosening, his gaze softening as he glanced over at you. “So, I behaved as you said and I patiently waited for you here, do I deserve my reward now?”

You shot him a teasing smile, leaning back in your seat. “Oh? You think you deserve a reward just for waiting?”

He pouted, though it only made him look more endearing. “Come on, you can’t leave me hanging like this. I’ve been a perfect gentleman,” he said, his voice playful yet sincere.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, but the smile that tugged at your lips betrayed you. “Alright, alright. You did alright, I guess.”

By now, he was already leaning closer, his breath brushing against your lips. Without missing a beat, you cupped his face in your hands and pulled him in for a deep, searing kiss. Haechan couldn't help but smile into it, feeling his heart race.

He must admit, he really like it this way.

↝ taglist: @yizhrt, @sinisxtea, @peterm4rker.

[esote-rika]

on the stroke of midnight | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: angst Summary: A pregnancy scare with your boyfriend leads to a serious conversation about the future Content: one mention of a foot fetish, pregnancy scare, talk of pregnancy and kids, established relationship, mentions of schizophrenia and mental illness, Cinderella and time as an extended metaphor and motif??? (Idk I was writing this while simultaneously writing my thesis on fairy tales oops), open ended ending  Word count: 2.2k A/N: I don't want kids and this fictional man does, so I'm making it everyone's problem. This is my first time writing pure angst, so uh, please let me know if I should continue with this genre or just go back to smut and fluff lol. Also shoutout to @notlongtolove and @darkmatilda who let me yap abt this ily girlies.

Ever since you started dating, Spencer Reid has been trying to figure out why you love Cinderella so much. He’s read through different academic papers, come up with his own silly interpretations that either make you gasp, or cry from laughing, and often leaves you marveling at his wonderful brain and all the ways it twists and turns. He likes games, you’d established that from the beginning when he ended your first date with a friendly game of chess. He had let you win twice before you’d caught on, and called him out on it.

It was on the second date when you brought up your love for fairytales, expecting an amused laugh at best, and an oh so you're one of those Disney adults at worst. However, you got neither. Instead, Spencer Reid had launched into an explanation of the cultural significance of these stories, asked you about your favorite, and then proceeded to tell you about the different versions of it across history and continents. Somewhere between the Americas, he'd cut himself off, blushing furiously, before asking you why you loved Cinderella so much. 

By then you had already decided he's perfect.

You didn’t tell him the reason that night; you thought it was too pathetic to share on a second date.

“I’ll tell you if you stick around.” you had said cheekily, hoping that maybe the temptation of a secret will allow you to keep him longer. 

He had laughed, “So you’re baiting me into another date?”

“Is it working?”

“I would’ve asked you out again regardless.”

That had been the night you got your first taste of his lips, and you’ve found yourself hoping time would stretch on forever. If moments could be bottled up, you would have done so at that moment, kept it in your pocket for the rest of eternity.  

Five months of bliss have passed since. Your theory of his perfection just kept being proven correct throughout the entire time, the way he’s trying so hard to communicate with you and make up for plans that get shelved due to the demanding nature of his job. He’d come up with different explanations for why you love Cinderella, until it became a game of its own; him searching through the contours of the fairy tale and you denying everything he comes up with. 

At one point, he’d asked if it was simply because you had a feet fetish and you had to start wearing socks everywhere because the sight of your own feet would make you giggle.

You don’t mind it, the games, the way he insists on learning this about you. Spencer Reid's mind desires to understand how everything works, to turn over and mull and analyze, and the first step to that is by keeping track of the variables. You have always found this endearing. He knows how fast you can read — it depends on the genre according to him, but it’s somewhere around 350-400 words per minute. He knows your favorite stories and music, has found connecting themes between them, and now he’s trying to see where your love for Cinderella fits in all of it. Hell, he even keeps track of your cycle for you, resulting in perfectly timed moments shared in bed where you’re ravished, and he’s chanting your name, and the two of you are gasping for a god that neither of you really believe in.

When you miss your period, he notices before you even do, quietly offering two boxes of pregnancy tests. He kept track of how long it took before the results finally appeared — one test took three minutes and eight seconds, the other one three minutes and twenty one seconds. It had felt simultaneously like three seconds and three decades. 

That was nearly six days ago. Nearly a whole week has passed, and what you had assumed to be an insignificant fissure seems to have widened into a crack. It’s a rare night off for him, a moment of domesticity that should be relished, but instead, you wonder if the cracks have somehow turned into something else. A fracture. You move around the kitchen together like magnets with similar poles, close but never quite touching. It feels like a chasm between you. 

Dinner in the oven. Only the slow tick of the oven timer disrupts the silence, though it doesn’t really disrupt as much as it joins. Background noise, a lull that seems to melt with the silence to highlight the stifling atmosphere. He’s tossing a salad, facing away from you. You both know it is ready to be served.

His name is whispered into the tense air, your voice croaking at the last syllable, “We need to talk about this.” You watch as he tenses, back uncharacteristically straight, and your heart sinks to your stomach. 

“I guess we do.” He never guesses. Spencer Reid uses words that are accurate, god knows he has the vocabulary for it. So this, to guess, the hint of skepticism makes your skin crawl. “What is this, again?” 

You scoff. He can be so deliberately obtuse sometimes, “I don’t know, Spence, you tell me. You’ve been acting weird since I took that pregnancy test.”

He doesn’t look at you, but he does answer, “I just— I don’t understand why you were so relieved about the results.”

You’ve had an inkling this whole issue is about that moment. Both of you hunched on his couch while you waited with bated breath. He’d timed it, one stick taking three minutes and eight seconds, the other three minutes and twenty one; both had contained negative results. 

You still remember it, the utter relief that washed over your body, the way you threw yourself into his arms at the confirmation that he hadn’t accidentally gotten you pregnant. You’d said thank god so quickly, face buried at the crook of his shoulder, so relieved that you hadn’t really noticed his reaction.

“Spencer,” it comes out a sigh, patient and quiet, “We’ve been dating for five months. Of course I was relieved. Don’t get me wrong, I love you, but it’s a little too soon to add a baby to the mix.” Love. That abstract concept you’ve almost given up on, before he’d come into your life. You love him, you’re sure of it. It’s burrowed deep into your bones now, which is why you’re trying to get past this. Communication is the key to making a relationship work. You remind yourself you don’t need a fairy godmother to keep this going. You have agency of your own.

His head shifts, turning over his shoulder slowly, and those beautiful amber eyes meet your own. “Is that all?”

It feels like an accusation, even though you know he’s just trying to understand. You gulp, trying not to get defensive, “I suppose not. If I’m being honest, I was relieved because I don’t really want children.” 

There it is. A cardinal sin, a sickness of modern women. You wait for his words to turn bitter, the familiar accusations of selfishness, the condescension. 

Instead, he looks at you with wounded eyes, “You don’t want children with me?”

“What? That’s not what I said.”

He pauses, Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps. The oven continues to hum softly in the background, its built-in timer clicking at equal intervals. In a different context, it might have given you a sense of peace, but right now it feels mocking. Your time is almost up.

“Spencer, that’s not what I said, honey.”

“Yeah, I heard you.” he turns back to the salad.

You watch him helplessly, searching for any way to bring him back to you.

“You kept asking about my mom,” he murmurs, “It’s not that I didn’t want you to meet her, it’s that, it’s—well, she’s in a home. A– a mental facility. She’s schizophrenic.”

This is not how you expected this conversation to go. “Spencer.”

“I guess, you know, that’s genetically passed down, and it’s no secret that my teammates suspect I’m on the spectrum, so my genetic makeup isn’t exactly the most desirable in terms of a partner with whom you would want to—to procreate.”

God, you wish he had been like most people and accused you of being a selfish bitch instead. 

“No,” you gasp, crossing the space between you. His hand is cold when you wrap your fingers around it. Unfortunately, you don’t think you have any warmth to give. Your own hands are clammy, but you try anyway, tugging it away from the tongs he’s using to mindlessly swirl at the contents of the salad. “It’s not like that at all.”

“It’s not?”

“No. And I’m sorry about your mom, I–I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to tell me about her.” the words feel futile, worthless. You’re entirely unprepared for something like this. He hasn’t told you much about Diana Reid, and you’d given him space, and now… now you understand why.

A beat as he considers. His body angles towards you now, his stance hunching forward into that familiar slouch you’ve come to love. You can’t tell if he’s relaxed or defeated, and that uncertainty burns in the back of your throat. “So you just don’t—”

“I don’t want kids, plain and simple. It’s got nothing to do with your genes, or your suspected autism, I just…” You falter, hands tightening over his own. You wish you could be more eloquent, but there’s so much uncertainty, so many truths being dropped in the span of minutes. You wait for more questions, for the inevitable but aren’t you worried about your legacy? Wouldn’t you get lonely? Motherhood is fulfilling for women. Sentiments you always get when you share this particular choice. 

You prepare your arsenal of responses, defenses you’ve practiced and perfected throughout the years, ready for any attempts to make you change your mind.

Somehow, he manages to choose the most devastating response instead. Muttering so quietly you almost don’t catch it, Spencer says, “But I do.”

You wonder how you got this long without ever talking about this? How had you gone five months with him, allowed yourself to let your walls down and fall in love, memorized the scars and calluses all over his body without ever discussing the topic of children? It seems silly, most people talk about that stuff from the get go, don’t they? To see if they would be compatible in the long run? 

But you’ve never had that before, the luxury of future plans. You’ve come to accept that the floor will inevitably collapse beneath your feet, that your time with someone will run out. When you’re used to having an expiry date, you don’t bother to make plans. The only way to survive is to live in the moment. Cinderella and her midnight curfew. 

“Oh.” It’s a filler word, but the silence is beginning to get to you. You stare at your entwined hands. His thumb is running back and forth across your knuckles, the action familiar and soothing, and allow yourself a moment to believe, to hope, that there’s time left for this. That time would never run out.

His next words break your heart even more, “I know it’s silly, especially with how much risk is involved. With my job, my—”

“It’s not silly at all, Spence.” you gulp, trying to push past the lump in your throat as you remember how he acts around his godson Henry in those rare times he’s had to babysit, “You’d make a great dad.”

“You’d make a great mom too.”

“Spencer.”

“I’ve seen you with your own nephews. You’re great with kids.”

“Don’t—”

“I’m not trying to change your mind,” he finally pulls you in, lips finding the top of your head, “I respect your choice, I do. I’m sorry that I seem like I’m pressuring you.”

“You’re not,” it’s even harder to catch your breath when your face is pressed against him, but you don’t make a move. Losing air seems like a fair compromise if it means you get to feel his touch. The way this conversation went has you reeling, confused. You’d been prepared to defend yourself, to explain your choices and make him understand, potentially to argue. His respect and acceptance is an entirely different battlefield, but no less vicious. 

With all the courage you can muster, you speak the words into existence even though you dread the answer. “Is this a deal breaker? Having children?”

He’s quiet. You wonder if this is even still a battlefield. You wonder if this is surrender, quiet and unassuming, a white flag raised before the fighting even began. If it is, then it stings, his soft acceptance. You almost find yourself wishing he’d try to convince you instead if it means he’ll fight for you more.

Your mind wanders back to Cinderella, the little game you’ve been playing, the way you’ve been holding out on the answer because it amuses you to hear the variety of interpretations and musings he’ll come up with. You promised yourself you’d tell him when the time is right, but now you’re afraid he’ll never get the answer. It feels useless, the cat and mouse you’ve developed, not when you’re faced with a real, human issue. A difference in life goals. Something communication potentially couldn’t fix.

His heart is drumming relentlessly against your cheek. It brings you some sick sense of comfort, knowing that he’s just as terrified as you are. 

“Spencer?” Is this the end? Please don’t let this be the end, please don’t be another good thing I lose.

The timer on the oven dings, piercing in the tense silence. Your midnight curfew has come. Dinner is ready.

Happy Valentines <3 thank you for reading, here's the rest of my masterlist

Also tagging @olderwomenenthusiast ty for the interest it is here

[witchywithwhiskey]

Alright, Molly, let’s try this again ❤️

What if I say Lloyd Hansen and 1-800-Cupid? 😌 Does that strike your fancy?

be my cupid

pairing: boyfriend!lloyd hansen x female reader

summary: when your boyfriend is away on a work trip for valentine's day, you have a plan to make it special. but then he surprises you with an even more exciting present that you weren't expecting.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, light bdsm, light dom/sub, sir kink, praise kink, finger sucking, aftercare, pet names, established relationship, some insecurity from reader and reassurance from lloyd

word count: 3.1k

a/n: i'm so happy you sent in the "1-800-Cupid" prompt!! i was hoping someone would because it seemed so fun. i really like the idea i came up with for this one—and i think it works perfectly with lloyd! thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy ♡♡

sweethearts game masterlist

“Thank you for calling 1-800-Cupid,” you trilled into the phone, unable to bite back the smile that had spread across your face when you saw the name Lloyd Hansen appear on the screen. “I’m your personal cupid, here to connect you with your true love.”

“My ‘true love’?” The familiar voice on the other end of the line scoffed with an ungentlemanly snort. 

You could practically hear the whiskers of his mustache twitch as his mouth twisted into a playful sneer. Indignantly, you sat up in your bed. 

“Don’t you dare scoff at me, Lloyd Hansen,” you scolded, even going so far as to give your phone a little glare when you knew there was no way for the man on the other end to actually see your expression. After all, you were sitting in your bed, alone in your apartment, while he was half a world away on some business trip. 

“I’m sorry, cupcake, I’m sorry,” Lloyd said soothingly, managing to sound genuinely contrite and teasingly playful all at the same time. 

You rolled your eyes with affection—it was a feat only Lloyd could manage. But it did the trick and you settled back into the pillows on your bed, playing with the edge of your sweater while you huffed a sigh. 

It took you a moment to get back into character, glancing at the short script you’d prepared as part of the surprise you’d planned.

“Now, why are you calling today, sir?” you asked in your best professionally cheerful customer service voice.

“Well, I found a mysterious card in my jacket, with your number on it,” Lloyd said, mirth filling his tone even as he tried to play along. “You don’t think my girlfriend could’ve had something to do with it, do you? D’you think she’s trying to get rid of me?” 

It took all your effort to stifle a hopeless giggle. You could always count on Lloyd to make you laugh, even when you were sad about the fact that he wasn’t there with you.

It was your first Valentine’s Day together, but he’d had to go away on a work trip, and you’d come up with a little plan to make the holiday special when you weren’t able to be together. But he kept distracting you. 

You took a moment to collect yourself, Lloyd waiting patiently on the other end of the line, seemingly just happy to be on the phone with you, which made you all the more eager to get on with your plan. 

“I don’t know anything about that…” you said primly, trying to keep your mouth from curving into a smile and utterly failing. So you moved on, blurting out the next part of your script. “Would you like me to send a photo of the true love you’ve been matched with, sir?”

“You keep calling me sir, sunshine, and you’re going to be getting a photo of my hard dick,” Lloyd muttered, sounding like he was palming the bulge in his pants already. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, warmth cascading down through your body and settling heavily between your thighs, wetness beginning to gather in your panties. It was on the tip of your tongue to beg him to send the photo, so you’d have something to touch yourself to when he inevitably needed to go and attend to the work that had taken him out of the country.

But you shook yourself and persevered with your plan. “Lloyd,” you admonished, your voice a little breathy despite your best efforts. “Do you want the photo or not?” 

“Sure, princess, send me the photo,” he said. Affection was clear in his tone, which made you soften just a bit. 

Pulling the phone away from your ear, you tapped on the screen until you pulled up the photos you’d had taken in a boudoir photoshoot. They were Valentine’s Day themed, with your body swathed in red and white lingerie, surrounded by rose petals and soft silk sheets. In your hands, you held a pink, plastic bow and arrow, making you look like a particularly sexy cupid.

Biting back a grin and a sound of excitement, you sent your favorite of the photos to Lloyd, then quickly replaced your phone against your ear, holding your breath while you waited with eager anticipation for his reaction.

You were rewarded a few seconds later with a choked groan and a muttered curse from your boyfriend. If you didn’t know any better, you might’ve thought he was in pain, but then his lust-soaked voice filled your ears.

“Fuck, angel, look at you,” he cooed down the line, sending little shivers of delight racing beneath your skin. “You look so fucking gorgeous—so perfect and pretty and…” He trailed off, his words dissolving into another restrained groan, like he was biting his hand to muffle the sound. “Is this all for me? Is this my Valentine’s Day present, sweets?” 

“Yeah,” you said softly, almost shyly, unable to wipe the grin off your face. The rest of your words left you in a rush of excitement. “Do you like it? I wanted to give you something you’d like even though you’re on your work trip.”

“I love it, buttercup,” Lloyd purred. 

His deep voice made you shiver with a desire that you knew was going to go unslaked until your boyfriend got home. No matter how much phone sex the two of you had, it was never quite as satisfying as having Lloyd with you in person, bending you over and taking you hard and deep…

Lloyd kept talking then, distracting you from your dirty thoughts with a surprise of his own.

“I got you something, too, pumpkin. Open your door.”

Excitement shot through your body and you bounced eagerly off your bed. You didn’t think much of his words, it wasn’t uncommon for Lloyd to send you little presents while he was on his work trips—coffee and pastries delivered to your door in the mornings to help you start your day, some jewelry or a book in the evenings because he was thinking of you. 

“Oohh, did you get me flowers, Lloyd Hansen?” you chattered happily, padding through your apartment to the front door. “Some chocolates? One of those giant stuffed teddy bears?” You paused, glancing around your cramped and cozy space, wondering where you would even put a giant teddy bear. 

Your boyfriend just chuckled softly on the other end of the line, not giving anything away. Your excitement to know what he’d gotten you rushed back in, and you turned to the door again, eager to see what he’d sent you.

Flinging open the front door of your apartment, you were stunned to find not flowers or chocolates or a teddy bear, but Lloyd Hansem himself. He wore a familiar smirk on his handsome face, his blue eyes glittering with mischief in the fluorescent lights of the hallway, his phone still held up to his ear. 

“LLOYD!” you screamed, your phone slipping from your fingers and tumbling loudly to the floor as you launched yourself at your boyfriend. “You’re here.” The words came out much softer as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar, spicy scent of his cologne. 

“Did you really think I’d let you spend our first Valentine’s Day alone?” he teased you playfully, one of his arms banding around your back while his other hand cupped the back of your head, holding you tightly against his chest. He walked you backward into your apartment, kicking the door shut behind him. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here with you, muffin.”

His words filled your heart with joy, and you wrapped your arms tighter around his shoulders, clinging to his big, strong form while he slowly twirled the two of you around, like you were dancing to a silent slow song. You were so happy, it took you a moment for reality to crash back down around you. 

“But I wasn’t expecting you,” you whined into Lloyd’s neck, remembering that your face was entirely bare of makeup and you were wearing the same thing you’d had on all week—a pair of leggings and one of Lloyd’s shirts, even though his cologne had long since worn off. “I’m not pretty right now,” you mumbled, hiding your face against Lloyd’s throat.

Lloyd gently eased you away from his body, having to pry your clinging arms loose, so he could rake his eyes over your bare face. He smiled, his mustache twitching a little, and his blue eyes sparkled with nothing but genuine affection. 

“You’re gorgeous just like this, pretty girl,” he cooed, ducking forward and pressing a kiss to your lips. Then he brushed kisses to your cheeks and forehead, even dropping a kiss to the tip of your nose, making you giggle. “You make a very sexy cupid, but you’re always my gorgeous girl.”

“Thank you, Lloyd,” you said on a soft sigh of contentment, dragging him in for a proper kiss.

His mustache tickled your upper lip in the way that you’d grown to crave, and you moaned at the familiar, delicious taste of your boyfriend. Pulling him even closer with your fingers curled around the lapels of his jacket, you kissed him harder, pouring all the affection and happiness you felt about having him home into the way your mouth moved against his.

Kissing you back just as fervently, Lloyd walked you backward until you were pressed against the wall in your living room. He crowded in around you, pinning you to the wall with his big, hard body, his bulge jutting into your belly while he deepened the kiss, coaxing a burning inferno of need to life within you.

Before long, you were pushing impatiently at his jacket, wordlessly whining for him to take it off. Lloyd was only too happy to oblige, shedding the garment and tugging his shirt over his head, his mouth finding yours again for another hot, searing kiss.

His fingers hooked in the waistband of your leggings, shoving them down over your hips and thighs so you could kick them off. Then his hands came up to cup your face, cradling your head while he licked into your mouth, fucking you with his tongue until you were whimpering, desperately needing him to fill another of your holes. 

Quickly, Lloyd toed out of his shoes and stripped off his pants, leaving him in only a pair of boxer briefs, while you still wore a sweater and your panties. Glancing down at your shirt before he went back to kissing you, Lloyd’s hands pushed beneath your sweater, his fingers finding the soft flesh of your tits and kneading until you were breaking away to moan. 

“Is this my shirt?” Lloyd asked in a low, rumbling voice that was soaked with lust and a little hint of humor. He pressed hungry, nipping kisses along your jaw, pinching your nipples and making you squirm between his hard, unyielding body and the wall at your back. 

“Yeah,” you answered on a gasp. “I missed you,” you confessed, your hands curling around his bare shoulders, clinging to the muscles bunching beneath his warm skin while your head tipped back against the wall and you let out a low, keening whine. 

Lloyd made a gruff sound in the back of his throat, pulling away so he could look you in the eye. Your head was still tipped back, though, so he cupped your jaw in his hand and tilted it forward, his thumb running along your plump lower lip. 

You took the tip into your mouth and nipped playfully before sucking on Lloyd’s thumb, staring up at your boyfriend with half-lidded eyes. You watched while his gaze darkened, his pupils blowing wide with a lustful hunger that made your body clench tight with anticipation. 

“I missed you too, baby cakes,” he rumbled, ducking his head to brush a kiss to the corner of your mouth. His mustache tickled and you giggled, turning your head and letting his thumb fall from your lips so you could kiss your boyfriend.

The kiss quickly turned heated again and it felt like both of you suddenly remembered how long it had been since you’d been joined together in the most primal way possible. There was an urgency in your movements as you impatiently tugged your boyfriend’s boxer briefs down, palming his cock while he tugged your sweater off and shoved your panties down your legs.

“Lloyd, please, I need you,” you gasped, wrenching your lips from his to suck in some much-needed air. The fingers of your free hand curled in the hair at the back of his head, clinging to him while stroked his cock, your thigh lifting and trying to curl around his hip. “Need your cock inside me, need you to fill me up, sir, please.”

“Fuck, alright, alright, lollipop—you want my cock, you’ll get it,” Lloyd rumbled, his hand grabbing your raised thigh and lifting it higher. His fingers dug into your plush softness while he hooked it around his hip and you guided his cock to your entrance. “Take it, honey bee, take your man’s cock.”

You sank down on Lloyd’s cock while he pressed into you, filling you up in one smooth stroke that had your head falling back against the wall and a filthy moan spilling from your lips. You weren’t quite wet enough to take him easily, but you enjoyed the slight burn and the ache of being stretched around his hard length too much to complain. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, doll face, looking so fucking blissed out on my cock,” Lloyd said on a grunt, pulling out slightly and pushing in again, making you both moan. “I could get used to this—coming home to you and filling your cunt while your body clings to me, sucking me deeper.” 

“Yes, yes, please, sir, I want that,” you babbled, the words falling from your lips and finding you did want it. You wanted Lloyd coming home to you every day, fucking you over the nearest surface and reminding you who you belonged to every night. “I want you filling me every day, fucking me, taking what’s yours.”

Lloyd chuckled, the sound deliciously sinful while he rocked into your body, fucking you against the wall of your apartment ruthlessly. All you could do was cling to him, your fingers curling in his hair, nails digging into the back of his neck while you held on for the ride.

“You want me to take what’s mine, sweet pea? Are you mine, sweet girl?” he teased mercilessly, fucking you even harder. 

It was on the tip of your tongue to say yes, you were his, but then Lloyd changed the angle of his hips. The base of his cock rubbed meanly against your clit with every thrust and you cried out loudly, your back arching away from the wall and your hips bearing down on his cock as you barreled toward your release.

“Lloyd,” you gasped, barely able to get the words out, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it, cutie, cum for me,” Lloyd urged, fucking you in hard thrusts, pausing between each to grind against your clit  “Be a good girl and show me you’re mine, honey pie—cum all over my cock.” 

Between his commanding words and the relentless grinding of his hips, his cock buried to the hilt in your soaking wet pussy, it was too much. Your release crashed over you, making you scream in pleasure while you came on Lloyd’s cock, your inner walls clenching hard enough around him to make him grunt. 

With a few more short, hard thrusts, Lloyd followed you over the edge, burying his face in your neck and muffling a loud groan against your skin as he spilled inside you. Your pussy squeezed every last drop of cum from his length, the two of you collapsing against the wall at your back as you caught your breath and rode out the aftershocks of your releases.

Once you recovered enough to move, the two of you stumbled down the hall toward your bedroom, taking a quick detour to the bathroom to clean up before tumbling into bed together. Lloyd had snagged his shirt from where he’d dropped in your living room and he pulled it over your head, swaddling you in his scent before pulling you close to cuddle.

Your boyfriend lay on his back, your body splayed across his chest, your ear pressed to his sternum while you listened to the steady beat of his heart. After a short time of enjoying each other’s presence, you raised your head, your eyes greedily raking over Lloyd’s handsome face while your fingers played idly with his mustache. 

“Thank you for cutting your trip short,” you murmured softly, your eyes fixed on Lloyd’s mouth, watching the corners flicker with a smile. “I really didn’t expect you to that just for Valentine’s Day.” 

“I did it for you, sweetheart,” Lloyd purred, his fingers closing around your wrist and bringing your fingers to his lips, pressing kisses to the pads of each one until you looked up into his eyes. His gaze was filled with so much affection, it made your breath catch in your throat. He murmured, “I love you.”

It was the first time either of you had said those words and you were surprised by the rush of emotion that flooded your heart when you heard them. Tears pricked at your eyes and you quickly dashed them away. 

“I love you, too, Lloyd,” you murmured, pulling your hand away from his mouth so you could replace it with your lips. You kissed him hard, and he did the same, banding an arm around your lower back and cradling your head while he rolled on top of you. 

When he started kissing down your neck, you tipped your head to the side and let out a delighted giggle at the way his mustache tickled your skin. You felt like you were bubbling with happiness, and you couldn’t help the words that came out of your mouth. 

“So I guess I really did match you with your true love, didn’t I?” you teased playfully, enjoying the way Lloyd laughed against your skin, making your pulse pump harder through your body. “Another satisfied cupid customer,” you joked, your legs wrapping around Lloyd’s hips and squirming beneath his hardening cock.

“Oh I’m very satisfied,” Lloyd said, lifting up to capture your lips in another kiss. His hips rocked between your thighs, grinding his cock against your soft pussy, making both of you moan at the pleasurable slide of your bodies. “You can be my cupid anytime, sugar pie, as long as you’re the one I end up with.”

“Always,” you purred, clinging to Lloyd while he slid inside you again. Then he was stealing your breath with another kiss, fucking you in slow strokes, savoring your body and murmuring his love against your lips. 

All told, it was the first of many happy Valentine’s Days with your boyfriend—and future husband—Lloyd Hansen.

sweethearts game masterlist

[florihaei]

၇୧ ENHYPEN AS YOUR BOYFRIEND ˖ ་.

CONTENT — wc • 1.4k fem!reader. lowercased intended. established relationship, boyfriend enhypen 𐔌͡ㅤׅㅤㅤ✿ written with love by autum!

秋のメモ… ︵ ︵ ིྀ first enhypen story on this blog!!, likes and reblogs are always appreciated!, hope you enjoy!!

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、HEESEUNG

˖ ་. AFFECTION : heeseung would be a playful blend of playful and romantic, he’d would often tease you with his little remarks, laughing when you get flustered, but he’d also know when to shift into his serious, caring side. when you’re upset, he’d hold you close and he would always try to make you feel better “im here for you baby, always. don’t forget that”

˖ ་. ACTS OF LOVE : he’s the type to know the smallest details about you, your favorite snacks, the way you like your coffee, or the littlest things that make you happy. everyday you always find a handwritten note tucked in your bag that always reads “good luck today!, you’re amazing baby, I love you!”

˖ ་. MUSIC BONDING : late at night, he’d pull out his guitar and start playing softly. “wanna hear something ive been working on pretty?” he’d ask, singing lyrics that seemed to be written just for you. those private concerts would make you feel like the most special person in the world.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、JAY

˖ ་. PROTECTIVE : jay would always make sure you’re safe, whenever it’s walking you home or ensuring you’re eating well. “text me when you get there okay princess?, i just want to make sure you’re alright” he’d say, his voice filled with genuine concern

˖ ་. FOOD ENTHUSIAST : jay would thrive in the kitchen, cooking you your favorite meals and teaching you some of his family’s recipes. “no, no like this princess” he’d say, guiding your hands as you tried to cut the vegetables. even when the dish doesn’t turn out as perfectly as you wanted he’d laugh and say, “baby.. it’s the effort that counts yeah?”

˖ ་. THOUGHTFUL : you always find small or even big thoughts gifts waiting for you, like roses on your doorstep, taking you out to dinner, or even having a playlist full of songs that reminded him of you. he would also have a beautiful journal with a heartfelt note inside. “i saw this princess and i thought of you” he explained, smiling warmly.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、JAKE

˖ ་. GOLDEN RETRIEVER ENERGY : jake would bring you so much positivity and support into your life. “pretty, you know you’re incredible, right?” he’d say, his eyes sparkling with pride, whenever you accomplish something, or every time you talked. jake was so in love with you, and would do anything for you.

˖ ་. CLINGY : jake always wanted to be near you at all times and was always ready for whenever you two cuddled after a long day. “c’mere pretty girl, you look like you need a hug” he’d say, pulling you into his arms and holding you tightly. whenever it’s holding hands while walking or resting his head on your shoulder, he would constantly seek that physical connection

˖ ་. BEING TOGETHER : jake wants to be with you all the time, which makes him plan adventures or little dates just to be with you, like midnight drives to watch the stars or little picnic at the park when it’s nice outside. “you know pretty, life is much more fun when we’re just together?” he’d say , snapping a photo of you to capture the memory’s

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、SUNGHOON

˖ ་. COOL BUT SOFT : at first, sunghoon might seem reserved and quiet but that’s really not him, as he opens up, you’d see his sweet and thoughtful side of him. “i-i .. wasn’t staring m i was just.. you look nice today baby..” he’d say as he looked away, as he got caught staring at you.

˖ ་. SUBTLE AFFECTION : sunghoon would sometimes quietly show his love in actions rather than words. lending his jacket without being asked knowing that your cold, or fixing something you mentioned in passing would be his way saying “i care about you” sunghoon is always listening, even if you don’t realize.

˖ ་. ICE SKATING DATES : a trip to the ice skating rink will always be a regular date for you two. he’d patiently teach you blow to skate , even if your paranoid ever 2 minutes about falling, or him not holding you tightly. “baby.., don’t worry i got you okay, im not going to let go” he’d say, smiling as you nervously wobbled on the ice.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、SUNOO

˖ ་. SUNSHINE IN HUMAN FORM : sunoo would always know how to cheer you up and make you feel better. “don’t be sad.., your to beautiful for that, let me make you feel better beautiful.” flashing his pretty smile at you and pulling you into a big hug, just trying to make you feel better.

˖ ་. AESTHETIC: he’d take you out to the most beautiful cafes and parks that he would find, always ensuring every date or outing you two go on it felt magical and you had the most wonderful time. “this place is so pretty.., just like you beautiful” he’d say, as you smack his arm playfully calling him cheesy for his words.

˖ ་. GREAT LISTENER: sunoo would be the person that you could always go and talk to, you go to him when you need advice, your sad, you need someone to talk to, or when you just want to be near him. “go on beautiful, im listening.” he’d say holding your hand and offering advice that made you feel comfortable and understood

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、JUNGWON

˖ ་. NATURAL LEADER : jungwon would naturally take care of you, always making sure you’re healthy and safe, you always come first before anything and everything. “have you eaten something today baby? no?, let me order something for you” he’d say, his concern evident in his tone.

˖ ་. PLAYFUL : jungwon would always love to tease you in a lighthearted way, always aiming to make you laugh, and of course you always did. “oh?, you think your funnier then me baby?, that’s cute.. i guess we’re going to have to see who’s more funny yeah?” he’d say with a cheeky grin.

˖ ་. DATES : he’d always enjoy spending quiet nights with you. it could be such as building blankets forts together or cooking meals together, whatever it was it would build your bond closer. “did i ever tell you, these are my favorite dates” he admitted, holding your hand as you two continue to watch the movie together.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、NIKI

˖ ་. PLAYFUL AND FUN : you always had fun around niki, he would always bring out his endless energy and laughter to your relationship. “you’re so bad at this game, it’s almost impressive baby” he tease, but you and him both know he’d always let you win in the end, just to see you smile.

˖ ་. GAMING BUDDY : playing video games together would always be a regular occurrence. “you wanna team up or battle baby?, either way you’re going down” he’d joke with you, loving ever moment of your competitive side.

˖ ་. SOFT SIDE : despite his playful side and always teasing you, he would also have a tender side that he would let out when he’s see something is wrong. “hey baby.., are you okay?, you know you can talk to me about anything” he’d say softly, his usual energy shifting into genuine care whenever you needed it.

[mars101]

❝Someone To Call My Lover❞

! ! someone's a little nervous in his funky car as he waits for you to come out for your date

-> pairing: bf!jungwon x gn!reader

-> genre: fluff, established relationship

-> warnings: no mentions of reader's gender btw, ur just jaw dropping to jw, you take a while to get ready apparently, jw calls reader 'baby'

-> word count: 0.4k

-> song inspo: "Someone To Call My Lover" - Janet Jackson

═════════════════════════════════

“Maybe we'll meet at a bar, he'll drive a funky car.”

In the driver's seat of the old Toyota Corolla in front of your apartment sat Jungwon. His overhead mirror out as he hums while fixing his hair for the third time.

His eyes glance over to the bouquet of flowers sitting buckled in the passenger seat. It’s the fourth time his mind is rethinking the color arrangement of the flowers, wondering if it actually does match the color scheme you two agreed to wear for your date.

The music playing through the aux now goes through one ear and out the other as his heart starts to pound against his chest as he sees it's been five minutes since he arrived outside your apartment.

“You're not getting stood up. You're not getting stood up. You're not—” Jungwon mumbles to himself in the mirror as he fixes his unmessy hair again. He cuts himself off as he sees you at the corner of his eye getting out through the main doors.

His hands hurry to slam up the overhead mirror, rest one arm on the window next to him, and rest his right hand on the steering wheel.

With the lack of tinted windows, you see him perfectly and giggle as you knock on the passenger window.

“Are you my Uber driver?” You say as he lowers the window with a wide smile he can't hide.

“I don't know, is your driver's name ‘yang super duper cute and kind and sweet also handsome jungwon’?” It's his middle name, you know.”

Your lips are pressed together to keep your smile from showing as Jungwon hands you the bouquet of flowers as you enter his car. “I didn't know my boyfriend had a middle name.”

“Boyfriend?? I'm your driver—” He's cut off again as you plant a small kiss on his lips. “Baby, this is so unprofessional—” Jungwon's the one connecting his lips to your own now.

He keeps on pressing his soft lips all over your face, making smiles grow on both of your faces. “Aw baby, you can't keep kissing me it's not right—” Jungwon's words cause you to giggle before you decide to plant one final kiss to his lips.

“He'll tell me I'm the one, and we'll have so much fun.”

mars talks: me when i get sudden urge to write AND remember that im also an enha writer 😓 guys do not work at ALL, feet hurts and mind hurts. i do not recommend.

masterlist

☆★☆: perm taglist: @sanasour, @loonaluvz, @boomhoon

★☆★: network/s: @kflixnet

[storiesconsumemysoul]

Stupidly Long Incoherent Ramblings on Lanfear, Rand, and Egwene

I feel like we are only discussing the Lanfear play with Egwene and Rand as jealous vindictiveness but we are truly not giving her enough credit. Every action she's taken so far this season has strategically resulted in, once again, slowly isolating Rand from his support system. Required conditions to secure her hooks - that have been rudely slightly dislodged - back in him. And in her eyes, Egwene is pretty much the last major obstacle.

By end of S1, Rand was alone, pretty much resigned to going mad and dying in the near future, cut off from all that he has ever known and loved, and terrified of his own mind and body. Selene makes herself a place of safety, companionship, trust, but most importantly, strength. She was the second relationship he'd ever had. With an older worldly woman who still wanted him, a clueless country bumkin. As he put it perfectly, she made him feel like a man (2x4). While he is extremely vulnerable, isolated, and terrified out of his mind, she made him feel stable and capable. That is an incredibly potent connection that does not get dissolved by the reveal of who she is. Especially since all of the reasons why he was vulnerable and isolated are still factors at play. He's still the Dragon. With all that that entails.

In the backend of S2 Lanfear has to resort to explicit forceful methods and make deals and transactions because the relationship has been damaged. But after she gets to be his big savior (2x7) she now gets to go back to building their dynamic again with more subtlety. Namely, by recreating the conditions that got them together in the first place.

We start S3 with explicit acknowledgment that 1) Lanfear is invading his dreams and trying to interfere in his decisions, 2) He is not being swayed and is instead working with friends again, and most importantly, 3) He told Moiraine about it! And what does Lanfear do? Bubble of evil that kicks every member of his entire support system exactly where it hurts them most -> makes them all splinter in different directions -> makes Moiraine (and Lan) her accomplice in that act of betrayal and cruelty establishing some real mutual destruction leverage over Moiraine where Rand's trust and compliance is concerned. Even though he still chooses to not go after the sword, that's still impressive work. And of course, continuously torturing Egwene in her dreams every night since she is the last holdout staying with him.

The scene in (3x5) when Rand says that he and Egwene haven't had a moment alone to talk since Rhuidean really stood out to me since the last we saw of Egwene in (3x4), she was desperately trying to catch his eye. To connect. Of course, since it's clear that Lan and Moiraine hadn't talked either (until settling in from their travels) that tells me that there just wasn't a chance for heart to hearts on the way from Rhuidean. But Lan gets to it basically the moment there is an opportunity because babygirl came out of Rhuidean in absolute shambles and he needed to get on that ASAP. But Rand (who's doing a great job pretending he's not going through it) and Egwene can't work towards reconnecting and really processing the shitshow that is their lives together because ... oh yeah ... Egwene is slightly preoccupied by being tortured nightly by a goddamn forsaken. Lanfear actively and materially benefits from keeping Egwene strung out and preoccupied. I really don't think it's the simple petty satisfaction of it all that she's really after. And The Wise Ones, wisely, prioritize teaching Egwene how to defend herself as quickly as possible over having heart to hearts with her dubious-status-boyfriend. Which means Rand, who is totally Fine(TM) and in no urgent need of a heart to heart, once again only finds real refuge with one person.

Repeatedly triggering and retraumatizing Egwene, who is still stubbornly sticking by Rand, ensures that she continues to have a hard time with intimacy of any kind anyways. Which is in turn also somewhat triggering for Rand since his biggest fear is hurting those he loves. And Egwene tensing up, flinching away, and distancing herself from him - as much as he understands isn't actually about him - well ... still is a particularly rough experience for him too. Their bubble event was truly perfectly calibrated to severely mess both of them up. Add on to that both of their nightmares, the arches, and Rhidean? Yeah. So, naturally, the distance between them grows and grows because Lanfear is pushing all the right buttons at such a crucially vulnerable time for both of them. Egwene needs her own refuge in order to protect herself from even more trauma, and Rand finds relief in the only familiar place of comfort still being eagerly (against his will) offered to him.

And it is so important that he finds his refuge in dreams instead of clandestine real world meetings. For one, it allows him legitimate deniability. He's not like ... seeking her out and he doesn't have control of this space so ... you know? Is it so wrong to soak in whatever comfort he can from the continued invasion of his mind by a near all-powerful being? And I really don't want this to be misconstrued as "oh he secretly wanted it so Lanfear is doing nothing wrong there actually" type of argument. What I'm trying to get at is this: making your target feel complicit in their own abuse because you put them in a position to "enjoy" some part of it is very much so an abuser tactic (the cult dude ritualistically performing oral sex on his victims as part of their initiation into his inner circle comes to mind).

Two, his dreams without her are nightmares where he commits his worst fears. And taking the alternative of having a nice little chat with his ex(?) in their "love cabin of simpler times" sure is a no brainer. The waking world and his dreams are terrifying and painful, but Lanfear can give him refuge in a safe little warm bubble. All for the cheap cheap price of indulging her advances a little. Three, seeing Lanfear in Rhuidean reinforced a thing we have seen him kind of realize but not really confront. Which is that Lanfear (and Ishamael) have a real meaningful connection with some version of him. And he can say all he likes that he's not Lews Therin but it doesn't make the grain of truth there go away (I often think about the strange lovely tenderness he shows Ishamael in his last moments). But like ... the hell is he meant to make of all that anyways? Nothing realistically. Except when he's in this strange liminal "unreal" space ... who can blame him for trying to feel out the shape of that connection?

And four, in controlling the setting of his dreams, Lanfear gets to naturally invoke Selene and all the ways Selene made him feel, all the warm fuzzy feelings associated with that place, and time, and lover. Even while he actively distrusts Lanfear. It's why her "there is a way for me to escape the dark one ... oh what am I saying let me dramatically dip real quick" thing is so effective. She's sitting on their bed, in the warm glow of their cabin, vulnerable and allowing him the opportunity to step into the role of a stable and safe version of himself. The opportunity to be in a place of safety and strength again for his own sake AND be a place of safety and strength for her. Again, that quote about making him feel like a man is so important, especially when he's vulnerable and so terrified of himself. So when he meets Mierin, of course he's going to latch on to her goodness. It's everything he saw in Selene. And everything Lanfear had been subtly priming him into keeping at the forefront of his mind and heart throughout their interactions. She has slowly but surely positioned herself back where Selene was. As a place of respite, comfort, and strength. Of course, of course, he would be tempted by the idea that that version of her can be saved. Can be made real again.

Now the real risk with her shenanigans in (3x5) is that, surely, Egwene is going to tell him that Lanfear has been the one hurting her this whole time. Which could be a massive blow that ruins the fruits of all her work. But I think Lanfear is taking that calculated risk now because she feels secure in her position. Secure enough to forcefully sever the connection between him and the last person in his support system close enough for him to seek in them what he found in Selene. She's betting on his anger being mitigated by growing more desperate for comfort when isolated fully again.

I don't know if this play is gonna work out for her the way she wants. But I can't deny that I respect the hustle. Truly villain-ing at the highest messiest degree.

[augustjoy]

Scars

Based on the following ask: Hi 🤍 I hope your requests are not too full already - but for weeks I‘ve been dreaming about kind of shy Hotch (due to his scars he got from scratch Foyet yn) and I would die to read smut where he is kind of shy at first bc he thinks reader will not find him hot and ahh and she obviously does and they just have the best night eveeeer then bc he finally lets go 🫣 what do you think????? I would dieeeee to read it from you! – Hey lovely, this idea is really sweet, and I am going to keep it on the slow intimate side, I just feel like Aaron opening up about the scars would lead to something slow and passionate…still smut tho!

Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Fluff/SMUT

Word count: 691

Not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, SMUT, mention of Foyet (the stabbing), established relationship with Hotch, explicit language, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description other than female anatomy, use of pet names, p in v, unprotected sex, anxiety, a little body dysmorphia…let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

The door flew open as the lock gave way. Aaron had you pressed against it, lips connected in a passionate kiss. His hands were gripping the hem of your shirt, right where it rested at your waist.

See here’s the thing, Aaron and you had been seeing one another for a few months now. With his job keeping him incredibly busy, you assured him there was no pressure, you’d go on dates and get to know one another when he was in town. That, you were okay with…but what was becoming increasingly frustrating was the fact that you hadn’t had sex yet.

Now, you’d be perfectly fine with taking things slow, only Aaron hasn’t said anything. He instead had just done everything he can to avoid getting in a compromising position with you…but tonight, it seems like that might change.

--

Your shirt was lost somewhere in the entryway along with both of your shoes and Aaron’s coat. His lips had made their way down to where your shoulder and neck met. Aaron was walking behind you, carefully leading you to his bedroom.

As you passed the threshold, Aaron spun you around. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you into his lap. He let his lips meet yours once again while you let your hands slide down to the buttons of his dress shirt. After you’d gotten a few open, Aaron grabbed your wrists and froze.

When you pulled back you were met with his pained expression, and even deeper, fear had been written behind it.

You were quick to pull your hands back and step down off of Aaron’s lap.

--

“I’m sorry Aaron. I shouldn’t have.”

“No! Don’t apologize.” Aaron began, hesitantly. “Sweetheart, I need to show you something. Something I have been worried about…which is why I’ve been avoiding this.” He gestured between the two of you.

Just as you opened your mouth to reply, Aaron unbuttoned the remainder of his shirt and pulled it off, dropping it to the floor.

“It was a case we were working years ago. The unsub…he had broken into my home, and then this happened.”

A quiet gasp escaped you. Adorning Aaron’s body were nine nearly identical scars. Your gaze met his as you lifted your hand, pulling it back, afraid to upset him. He offered a small nod, grabbing your hand and bringing it to rest on his bare chest. Your fingers danced from one scar to the next, a tear silently making its way down your cheek.

Aaron reached up, wiping it away with his thumb. “What’s wrong honey.” He asked.

“I just can’t believe someone would do this to you.”

Aaron and you shared a quiet moment of understanding. His job was dangerous and sometimes he got hurt because of it, but he came out the other side…with newfound strength each time.

--

You’re not quite sure when the air shifted, but one moment you were sat there holding one another, and the next, you were sharing a heated kiss, attempting to remove the remainder of your clothing.

Once you were both fully stripped, Aaron settled himself against the headboard, reaching his hand out for you. He pulled you into his lap, at first, just holding you there while his lips explored the expanse of your neck.

Your hands found their way to Aaron’s hair, carding through it…tugging ever so slightly. He shifted the two of you ever so slightly so he could ease himself into your heat. Your head falling back, loving every bit of the stretch.

Aarons arms were wrapped tightly around you, desperately gripping you to him, as you gently rocked back and forth. This wasn’t about the sex…this was about vulnerability and intimacy. A moment where two people have bared their souls to one another.

--

The two of you spent the evening wrapped in the sheets, a mess of tangled limbs. You expressed your love for one another in ways you hadn’t before. This was the beginning of you future, one in which you wouldn’t have to hold back. One in which Aaron wasn’t afraid of what you might think.

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust

[bambisafe]

re4!leon / gender neutral!reader

cw : pure humor, kissing, established relationship, no violence but leon does give poor instructions.

word count : around 500

author's note : i'm a big fan of the em dash.

author's author's note : this work is mildly inspired by a fic by @/gtgbabie03 though i believe it's been deleted. still felt the need to disclose this information.

imagine leon teaching you self defense.

you two have just moved in together, into your first house, and you're both settling in, getting used to each other's routine and overall way of living.

naturally, since leon is away a lot— and sometimes for long periods of time —he worries for your safety and what better time to bring that up than right now?

“what’re y’gonna do if someone breaks in?” the unforeseen question is like a crackle of thunder between you, all traces of the previous conversation withering away.

your fork clinks against your plate, dinner momentarily forgotten. “what?”

the slightest of twitches above his right brow, forehead wrinkling with the movement. “you heard me.”

the question ultimately stumps you, lips parting in utter astonishment. how did small talk turn into this?

“i don't know— kick them?” now it's your turn to furrow a brow.

your boyfriend nods, expression unreadable, as he drags a folded napkin down over his lips. “not a bad start.”

and that's how you got here, standing in the middle of the living room underneath dim lamp light, with your hands curled into fists.

“no, honey, put your feet like this,” a foot of his own wedges between your legs, nudging yours farther apart. one slightly back, one slightly forward.

“there we go,” he praises, mirroring your stance. or the one he taught you, really. “now, hands in front of your face.”

you listen, fists crowding the front of your head.

“no, not like that,” he sighs, though he remains patient. “like this.”

you copy his demonstration; not perfectly but not horribly.

“good. now, when you punch put all your weight into it, alright?” he explains while applying a visual aid that is more comical than it is informative. “put your back into it.”

you can't hold back a chuckle from escaping no matter how hard you try not to.

“yeah, keep laughin’. see where that’ll get you against an intruder,” he sasses, completely stone-faced.

you snicker. “leon!”

this time, the corner of his lips tick upward. “alright, enough messin’ around,” he shrugs, shaking off the humor and replacing it with that same air of concentration from before.

“go, punch me.”

of course, you don't connect your fist with him full-force. it's light, just a tickle of fingers against a cheek.

“not bad,” leon affirms, unmoving. “again, but twist your hip.”

you take his advice and do exactly that, putting your back into it like your boyfriend graciously reminded you to.

a lopsided grin forms on the blond’s face, arms falling to his sides. “that was good,” one arm outstretches and you feel fingers grip onto your hip, effectively pulling you in snugly.

“now i can sleep easy knowing you can hold your own,” his smooth timbre washes over you, warm and familiar. “not that i doubted you before.”

your face blooms a smile, hand coming up to rest on his plush chest. “i have the best teacher,”

leon returns the sentiment with a quick kiss to the apple of your cheek. “i’m beat,” he sighs. “bed?”

consider reblogging if you enjoyed, it helps out writers a ton !

[hauntingmisery]

i know stobotnik dynamic’s been established in the fandom since day 1 and sunshine/moon is a classic for a reason but. just think about it for a second 

there’s almost nothing we know about pre-canon and pre-working together stobotnik. ivo jokes about being an orphan (jokes as coping mechanism let’s gooo) a couple of times and lee mentioned seeing stone as an orphan as well, both of them being very lonely and detached from human connections since childhood thus becoming very dependent on each other 

we also know how much of a competent badass stone is in that second movie prequel comic 

so imagine younger agent stone – no family, excellent military/espionage training, the next smartest person in the room after robotnik, cynical and cold 

and ivo – expressive attention seeking clown that probably got so much government funding by being the loudest robotnik in history, enjoying all the tiptoeing from the generals that feeds his ego on daily basis 

walters moves in mysterious ways, not god-like but more of a way too nosy grandfather-like. we can only imagine why he approved of the idea to get them to work together 

stone’s first day? 

robotnik is excited to show off his superiority in the rudest way possible, maybe even prepares a couple of new insults, confident to scare off yet another stupid little ant (so what if agent’s file is completely classified, nothing robotnik hasn’t seen before, that’s the line of work they’re in after all) 

agent stone is not easily impressed. he’s got blood on his hands, he changed so many identities he doesn’t know who he is anymore. and he feels so numb inside that he’s not even interested in finding out. so he’s not impressed by insults 

he is, however, impressed by something else, don’t worry 

robotnik’s seen as a robot by everyone around him. but robot is something that works for human, does what it’s told, no questions asked. that’s the opposite of ivo robotnik. stone is much closer to that definition 

and robotnik is easy. few cups of coffee, a compliment here and there, pretend to be less smart than you actually are so he gets an ego boost, ask something so he can yapp your ears off, sort his emails, call generals basic and boom – you got yourself perfectly functioning and somewhat satisfied evil genius 

now back to the impressive part: robotnik is impulsive to the point he’s awfully honest. his needs are very loud and oh isn’t it addictive to be needed for the first time in your life. he pokes stone for attention so hard it’s almost cute 

stone starts to smile and laugh, not just polite or passive aggressive way but genuinely happy to see robotnik goofing around 

robotnik picks up stone’s paranoia about security, thinks twice before spilling his biggest ambitions to the government, but invites stone to see his private ruling-the-world vision board

im not saying they changed each other for the better cause. you know. a villain and an enabler. but they definitely made each other happier

we saw how shocked ivo was when he realised someone actually cared about him. imagine what could’ve happened if he knew how much of an impact he had on another person himself. okay i’ll go cry in my corner now 

anyway tldr: they match each other’s freak and we are happy for them

[babybearnation]

polyam!landoscar = red string connecting you to your soulmate(s); reader can see strings, but landoscar can't—they're already dating, but as far as they're concerned they've found their soulmate and that's that (even if they both feel something missing). reader is childhood friends with sighted!alex maybe and he realises that reader is landoscar's soulmate but doesn't want to say anything so he says something for them

(aka: non-sighted established landoscar; sighted reader who's too shy/scared to tell landoscar; sighted alex who meddles (possibly background logalex but :3))

im obsessed with everyone's rsv ideas, i wont lie - also we get some new rsv lore here regarding polyamory heheh

for more information about the world within red sight ‘verse, please read this post

non sighted!established!landoscar x red sighted!gn!reader (ft. red sighted!childhood bff!alex albon)

lando and oscar felt a connection the moment they met each other

they knew it'd be risky to start dating if they weren't soulmates but they went through with it anyways because the bond they felt was so strong

worked out in their favour though because, after sharing their first kiss, lando and oscar can see their strings... kind of

you see, lando and oscar unknowingly had a third soulmate - you

due to the rarity of polyamorous soulmates, it wasn't common knowledge on what would happen if not everyone involved kissed each other

lando and oscar could see their strings but they were faint, almost pink, and they couldn't touch them like red sight would allow them to

also, oscar and lando were almost positive they had two strings each but they could hardly see their strings and therefore couldn't track where the potential extra one led to

enter you

you know who their missing soulmate is

its you

the twined strings that looped around your finger always lead you to them and they tugged insistently pretty much every single race weekend

you were best friends with none other than alex albon and therefore, you had spent ages around lando whilst growing up and travelling with alex to his competitions and stuff like that

you'd known from the instant you met lando that you were his soulmate, but the extra string pointed somewhere else and it bothered you to no end

plus it nearly always tugged when you were at race tracks - less persistently than with lando's string, sure, but it still tugged

when oscar became alpine's reserve in 2022 and started attending every race track on the f1 calendar, you felt it every race weekend - you couldn't ignore it

when you realised it was oscar, you felt relieved - two drivers made things easier to manage!

but when you finally decided to do something about it, it was too late

lando and oscar were already together and they seemed perfectly content

maybe... maybe the universe was playing a cruel joke on you?

alex, however, was tired of watching lando & oscar play oblivious and was tired of dealing with a tragically depressed you

he was gonna say something

if it wasn't for his own soulmates stepping in and telling him that maybe he should speak to you first, he would've marched right on over and told lando and oscar the truth to their faces that very second

you talk to alex about it (george & logan on standby to control their boyfriend if needed) but it just leads to a big argument that has you storming off to mclaren

even though you refused to tell lando & oscar the truth, you still couldn't stay away from them and the three of you quickly became fast friends

so you rush to them for comfort without thinking about it

you end up spilling the truth to lando & oscar as you vent about how stupid alex is and its only when lando covers your mouth with his hand and whispers the words "we're soulmates?" that you realise what you've done

you go to apologise when lando leans in and kisses you

he pulls back and stares down at his hands, giggling and clapping excitedly when he notices the actually red string now

oscar bites his lip before shyly kissing you as well, gaining his own red sight

as you shyly tell oscar and lando the truth about how long you've known and how you didn't want to ruin anything with your strings, alex, george & logan watch on, all happy you three have finally sorted your shit out

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[loveemagicpeace]

Saturn lord of karma

Saturn is considered the most powerful planet in astrology and also the planet that is the most difficult to know. For many years, they believed that Saturn was bad, but the negative turned out to be one of the better planets. All other planets lose energy, which is especially true for the planet Mars.

Saturn in Taurus- excessive exaggerations towards materialism. The cause is a strong conscious or unconscious fear of losing property, visits or possessions. People with this position feel that they are not important without money. They may have a fear of poverty. Because by having money, they can enjoy things and have the feeling that they cannot do without material things. They see life as real, serious, uncompromising. They are hardworking and always save money. They are persistent, motivated and want to be successful.

Saturn in Virgo- these people are hard-working, diligent, focused on everyday activities. They work a lot on their health and body. Many times, however, they can be subjected to excessive strain due to their health. These people are perfectionists, precise, thoughtful and very good at what they do. They are very good analysts. Accepting responsibility can be hindered by a lack of faith in one's own abilities, suspicion and fear that they will not satisfy society.

Saturn in Capricorn- here Capricorn is at home and in a comfortable position. He knows how to organize perfectly, he is reliable, solid, responsible. He can be a great leader. An individual with this position wants to be an example to other people, because he wants to be socially and socially important, because he has a desire for power and control. He has very high life goals, he wants to be a successful and respected member of the social community. He has important insights early in his life, but he learns the most from his own experiences.

Saturn in Gemini-the ambitions of these people are related to learning, studying, teaching, acquiring specific knowledge. These people are interested in many things and can also be people who start something but don't finish it because they can't decide what it is that really attracts them. However, the individual may have a tendency to control and overthink each person. It can also be a source of strict upbringing (that he must not say what he thinks). A career can be related to journalism, public speaking, literature.

Saturn in Libra- the area of relationships has the greatest influence on the development of these people. A source of acquaintance, diplomacy, understanding, love and business relationships. But this is the most difficult and the biggest challenge for them. People want to highlight justice, seriousness, affection, kindness, patience. They may feel a great responsibility towards partner relationships. Therefore, they always approach them very seriously. However, they may be hindered by the fear of losing their partner relationship. Many times they have high criteria when it comes to love. The profession of the field is usually related to fashion, science, art, politics.

Saturn in Aquarius- symbolizes solidity, thoughtfulness, progress of ideas, innovativeness. These people can achieve a lot by inventing something. But there are usually people who don't like to follow the rules and do exactly the opposite of what they should. It can cause melancholy, dissatisfaction. Lanka limit freedom of thought. Many times these people want to do things their way. He perceives the world as a place where every person should have the same opportunities for development and social establishment, or professional success. This position is characterized by a scientific-systematic thinking approach, which through experiences achieves a high level of internal crystallization and ingenious mutual logical connection. Such a situation leads to loneliness and problems in partnerships and relationships, because the life principles of these people are very unusual, but at the same time advanced and hard to understand by contemporaries. It also indicates extraordinary creative restlessness, nervousness, unpredictability and a tendency to make radical changes. Due to strict upbringing and limitations in childhood, they later try to make up for it with an exaggerated tendency towards freedom, independence and detachment.

Saturn in 2nd house-This position indicates great insecurity, which is associated with a lack of self-confidence and self-worth. The very slow development of the value and value system is characteristic. There is a probability that the individual's upbringing in his youth was associated with poverty, deprivation, misery or even hunger. So now you are working on getting all the needs. A person can identify himself with money, material goods, or with his wealth, this becomes his only way of asserting himself in the social environment. When a person realizes that money is not everything and begins to change his lifestyle, he sees things differently.

Saturn in 3rd house-The third house tells something about the way of thinking, intellect, basic education, ability to communicate, about gathering information, movement over short distances, means of transport, brothers and sisters and about conditions in the immediate environment. Saturn in the 3rd house creates order, discipline, strictness, responsibility and orientation towards a specific type of self and information. Checks if the information is correct. If a child is exposed to too strict control of information, he may have problems with expression and vocabulary. He can be the target of criticism and constant monitoring of what and how he speaks, thereby exerting psychological pressure on the child. Later in life, the individual has difficulty developing an authentic exchange of information, speaks quietly or reservedly, or is ashamed of what he said. Usually, individuals with this position are very intelligent, have good concentration and great depth of thought. A child with this Saturn position is very diligent and a good student in elementary school. You can be stubborn and value the knowledge that was gained based on experience and practical observations the most. It may happen that one of the brothers or sisters "plays the role of Saturn". This means that, as an older child, he puts himself in the role of a guardian or an authority that must be listened to and obeyed. You are very careful when you drive vehicles, so there is not a high probability of accidents and accidents, unless Saturn is strongly afflicted.

Saturn in 6th house-Daily habits and tasks (for example, hygiene, cleaning, house order, principles of behavior, etc.) are very precisely determined, as the individual demands absolute order and compliance with the established rules. They may be inclined to find themselves in a very demanding job, where there are high standards and requirements that must be met unconditionally. Service is sometimes such a burden with this position of Saturn, that the individual can bear it with difficulty. Work conditions can be made more difficult by a colleague, which has an extremely burdensome effect on the individual, reduces his work morale and tries to devalue the individual's work and efforts. The pressures at the workplace are often so heavy that a person is no longer able to perform their work correctly and with high quality. Prav sesta house points to a close psychosomatic connection between work processes and health, which are also cyclical in their essence. In order to maintain health, it is necessary to be allowed to rest, to eat properly and healthily, to be physically active and to be allowed to sleep. A person's health is most burdened when the individual is burdened day in and day out with the problems and disappointments he experiences in life, and at the same time he sleeps poorly, does not feel well, eats improperly and does not exercise enough.

Saturn in 7th house-The position of Saturn here represents lasting love and marriage relationships, what he expects from personal and business partnerships, how he relates to business clients and other people, and to open opponents and lower courts. This position of Saturn is otherwise demanding, as it shows that relationships are the theme of life that will berequired the most effort, effort, patience, tolerance and perseverance. Balancing the relationship with such a partner is a difficult task, because she strictly insists on her views and principles, which means that it is difficult to expect any changes. Says even to such a choice of a partner who will first test you, isolate you, then reject you and ultimately disappoint you. The question arises how to mitigate or even prevent this. The answer lies within search, contemplation, tolerance, humor and in-depth communication between partners. An individual may choose a partner much older than himself because he is experienced, stable, reliable and financially secure, but he is dissatisfied with him because of inflexibility, old-fashionedness and ageism and other limitations bring a lot of problems into the relationship. You can also be afraid of living alone, but at the same time you are afraid of problems in a partnership.

Saturn in 10th house-The tenth house tells something about career choice, business success and professional reputation, relationship with the public and relationship with parents. The top of the tenth house (MC) indicates concretely expected achievements in life and the realization of the individual's public ambitions. Saturn is extremely well placed in the tenth house, which is why its position is also solid and strong. The individual is fully ready to take responsibility for social achievements, show himself as an honorable person, fulfill his ambitions and become a real authority. Success is the ultimate goal, no matter how difficult the path to it is. Relationship with parents and upbringing are very important in this position, because the more visible of the parents requires discipline, order, rigor and systematicity. It is interesting that the ambitions we feel later in life are proportional to the pressure on the child's identity in the early life period.

Saturn in 11th house-this house tells something about relationships with friends, about group activities, hopes, wishes and expectations in life, about large organizations and events over which the individual has no influence. It is typical for Saturn here that the individual shows his superiority and isolation within the group and behaves like a "lone wolf". He has problems if he wants to establish occasional friendly contacts, because he acts strict, aloof and defensive. People who have been presented to him as "acceptable", i.e. those whom he meets through family, business, religion or interests, rarely receive him warmly, so he feels unaccepted in this social structure. An individual with Saturn in the eleventh house is painfully aware that he is not welcome anywhere, but at the same time he is overwhelmed by a deep feeling of loneliness and detachment.

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-Rebekah🌙🍍🎸