#it’s instinct to respond to our names

[letitbehurt]

Undercover Whumpee with an alias freezing when they hear their real name spoken from Whumper’s mouth.

[ariichive]

JEALOUSY☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

jealous scenarios ft. phainon, anaxa, and mydei!

gen. neutral reader

cw: anaxa is kinda crazy he puts his gun to reader, possessiveness, mentions of violence, fluff, not proofread im so tired :')

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

phainon

phainon was one to pride himself on his natural charm, he was a very easy going guy. the stark contrast between him in battle and off was admirable.

though as much as he hates to admit it, sometimes the warrior takes over his instincts. for instance, right now as he watched the droma’s caretaker openly flirt with you.

it wasn’t just the flirting—though that was annoying enough—it was the way you laughed, the way your eyes softened, the way you didn’t immediately pull away. phainon knew you weren’t his, not in the way that would justify this sudden surge of possessiveness. but logic had never been good at taming instinct.

his fingers twitched at his side, an old habit from years of battle. the part of him that thrived in combat, the part that didn’t hesitate when faced with a challenge, whispered at him to act. it would be so easy to step in, to slide an arm around your waist, to make it clear to everyone in the room—especially to the man standing too close—that you weren’t available.

but that wasn’t his place. not yet, at least. so instead, he forced himself to take a breath, to unclench his fists, to remind himself that he was phainon—charming, laid-back, not the type to pick a fight over something so trivial.

“phainon, this one likes me!”

his stoic expression softened when he realized, in fact, you were talking about the loving dromas and not that man.

phainon smiled gently at your joy, “i can tell, he sure does like you a lot!”

there was a certain edge to his voice that could’ve been missed by onlookers. you gave him a concerned glance, one which he smiled at and didn’t question further.

and yet, when the caretaker let out another laugh, explaining the most basic knowledge of dromas ever, his hand brushing against yours, phainon found himself smiling again. it wasn’t a friendly smile.

“having fun?” he asked, voice smooth but carrying an edge beneath it as he finally approached the two of you.

“yeah—!” you were quick to respond only to look up at phainon and realize his attention wasn’t on you. “phainon..”

“yes my lovely spouse, who i treasure more than any riches and i’d also kill for?” now his attention was focused on you, his smile bittersweet.

the thing with phainon is whenever he looked at you, there was always such intensity.

“don’t start, i’m okay i promise.”

there was a joking tilt to your voice, but it was enough to calm him down.

“now, come over and feed the dromas with me! this one’s name is castor, very sweet we should take him home!”

phainon let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart. "my love, as much as i would adore bringing castor home, i fear he would not fit through our door."

you laughed, reaching out to pet the dromas, who nuzzled into your touch affectionately. "we could make it work," you teased, "build a bigger door, you're strong enough. or, you know, just let him live in our backyard."

phainon hummed in thought, stepping closer until he was right beside you. "tempting," he mused, reaching out to pet castor. "but then i’d have to compete for your affection, and i don’t think my heart could take it."

you rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. "oh, please. you already know you’re my favorite."

his grin softened into something more genuine, his blue eyes filled with something tender. "good. because my dearest, you are mine." phainon swears the dromas narrowed its eyes at him (the caretaker did too but phainon was too busy enjoying the memoment with you to get mad all over again).

you burst into laughter as the dromas let out a soft sound, clearly pleased with itself. "maybe if you were as cute as them, you’d stand a chance."

phainon clutched his chest. "wounded. utterly wounded."

but despite his theatrics, he leaned in closer, his hand brushing against yours as you both continued to feed the dromas together, the warmth between you as steady as ever.

...

"y'know, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to take one home, then we wouldn't have to come back here. i can't believe that vile man had the nerve to even look at you..!"

"phainon, my dear, we are not actually going to take one home."

"...i like the name kevin, wouldn't you agree, [name]?"

the rest of the day was spent with phainon in your ear.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

anaxa

the carefully crafted lunched in your hands was the least of your worries as a soft click was heard from behind you followed by a pressure being applied to the back of your head.

just to think; you went out of your way to bring lunch to your oh-so-kind boyfriend and this is how he greets you?

you would say you're surprised but... this isn't the first time something like this has happened.

"do tell me, what's the foul mood for now?"

he didn't appreciate the snarky comment as the gun pushed against your head even more.

"my [name], you seemed to enjoy yourself outside with that man. would i be correct to assume so?"

so this is what he's mad about.

you exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "if you must know, i was just making conversation. you know, something normal people do?"

the gun pressed harder against your skull in response, the warning clear. anaxa hated being mocked.

"careful," he murmured, voice quieter now, more dangerous. "i'm already being generous by allowing you to explain yourself. do not test my patience."

you tilted your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. his expression was unreadable, but his grip on the gun was steady—too steady.

"allowing me to explain myself?" you echoed, amusement creeping into your tone. "and here i thought my oh-so-loving boyfriend would trust me a little more by now."

anaxa exhaled sharply through his nose, but he said nothing. the silence stretched between you for a few moments before the pressure at the back of your head finally disappeared.

anaxa let out a low hum, his voice smooth yet laced with something sharp—jealousy, possessiveness, something only he could wield so effortlessly. "you know how i feel about you entertaining the company of other men," he said, tilting his head slightly. "and yet, there you were, laughing as if you had no care in the world."

you sigh, "i promise you it was a very brief interaction. i even told him i was visiting you for lunch."

anaxa looked away in faux annoyance as he gently took the lunch from your hands.

"thank you, [name]." anaxa was genuine in his thanks, he understood how troublesome it could be to reach him in the grove of epiphany.

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "i'd say 'you're welcome,' but i'm not sure you deserve it after that stunt."

he sighed dramatically, setting the lunch down on his desk before taking a seat. his movements were as measured as ever, graceful even in something as simple as this. "you wound me, truly," he drawled, undoing the buttons of his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up. "but i suppose my cruelty knows no bounds, does it? threatening my beloved over something as insignificant as a passing interaction."

"so you admit it was ridiculous?" you quirked a brow, leaning against the edge of his desk.

anaxa leaned back slightly in his chair, watching you with a gaze so heavy it felt like an unseen weight pressing against you. "i admit nothing," he corrected, voice as smooth as ever. "but even the most brilliant minds are prone to… lapses in judgment."

you let out a small scoff, shaking your head. "right. 'lapses in judgment.' is that what we're calling your absurd jealousy now?"

he exhaled through his nose, as if considering your words, before finally opening the meal you had brought him. "call it whatever you like, my dear," he said idly, plucking a piece of food with deliberate ease. "but tell me, if i were to flirt so freely with another, would you be so composed?"

your mouth opened, but the words died on your tongue. anaxa watched your hesitation with something akin to satisfaction, his smirk deepening ever so slightly.

"i thought as much," he said smoothly, taking a slow, deliberate bite of his food. "jealousy, my dear, is a universal affliction. i am simply more… expressive about mine."

you huffed, looking away, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "you're insufferable and lucky i have the patience for you," you muttered.

he let out a soft chuckle, low and indulgent. "patience," he mused, reaching out to brush a gloved finger against your cheek, slow and deliberate. "such a rare and commendable virtue. though i must wonder..."

his touch trailed lower, tracing the curve of your jaw before finally resting under your chin. with the lightest pressure, he tilted your face ever so slightly upward, forcing you to hold his gaze.

"how much longer will that patience last, i wonder?"

you swallowed, refusing to look away. "depends," you said, barely above a breath. "how many more times do you plan on pulling a gun on me?"

anaxa’s lips curled into the faintest smirk, but his eyes flickered with something softer—something dangerously close to fondness.

"ah," he sighed dramatically, finally releasing you and leaning back into his chair. "a fair question. but, my dear, you wound me. surely you know by now that i only threaten the things i cannot bear to lose?"

you stared at him, feeling both shocked and flustered.

you huffed, shaking your head as you finally relented, letting the conversation settle into something resembling peace. and despite everything—despite his absurd possessiveness, his impossible nature, his maddeningly smug demeanor—you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

because somehow, against all logic, against every ounce of reason—anaxa was yours. and that was something even he, with all his sharp words and sharper wit, could never deny.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

mydei

mydei always found himself in petty competitions with phainon. whether it was who could pick the most apples to who could slay the most enemies, phainon always knew how to push his buttons.

though he might’ve pushed them a little too far..

“afraid you’ll lose? i would’ve never guessed that the great mydeimos was scared of talking to a girl. or are you scared [name] will end up liking me more?”

“deliverer,” mydei said with a scary amount of joy in his voice, “tell me, do you enjoy being humiliated by a kremnoan heir?”

“so is it a deal?”

“if that’s what you wish to call it, we’ll start now. try not to make an utter fool out of yourself. you won't even be able to touch them."

there was absolutely no way mydei was going to even let phainon breathe the same air as you.

phainon grinned, entirely unfazed by mydei’s sharp tone. “oh? possessive already? my, my, what will [name] think of this? surely they've noticed your crush on them by now.”

mydei exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. “they will think nothing of it because you will not get the opportunity to so much as look at them.”

phainon laughed, tilting his head with an almost lazy confidence. “bold words. i wonder if you’ll still be saying that once they’re hanging off my arm instead.”

the barely restrained fury in mydei’s eyes was almost comical. “you delude yourself.”

“and you’re stalling.” phainon shrugged, already turning on his heel. “come now, mydeimos. unless, of course, you are afraid?”

mydei scoffed, stepping forward with an air of unwavering confidence. “i fear nothing—least of all a fool with an overinflated ego.”

the competition had begun.

mydei was the first to find you. he's always remembered the places you often frequented, the bathhouse being common among them.

mydei found you tucked away in one of the quieter corners of the bathhouse, steam curling through the air in delicate wisps. he approached silently, his footsteps barely making a sound against the stone floor.

he had always been observant—perhaps more than you'd realized. no matter how much time passed, he never forgot the places you sought comfort in.

"i thought i'd find you here," he murmured, his voice low and steady, cutting through the gentle trickle of water. "it's peaceful here," you said softly, returning your gaze to the water, watching a rubber duck float by.

after a long moment, you glanced at him, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

"you always find me."

mydei's crimson eyes softened, a rare hint of fondness breaking through his composed exterior.

"of course," he said quietly. "you're worth finding."

mydei had a huge advantage over phainon; everything that came out of his mouth was genuine.

you felt your body heat amplifying from his intense gaze, the steam from the bath worsening your situation.

the air between you two felt thick with unspoken words, the steam in the room only adding to the intensity. mydei’s crimson eyes were locked onto you with an unwavering focus, as if trying to read something deeper than just your expressions.

“you know, you really don’t make this easy,” you muttered, trying to divert your thoughts, the heat rising in your chest feeling like it might burst through your skin.

he raised an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving yours. "make what easy?"

you shifted uncomfortably, the faintest of blush creeping onto your cheeks. “this... this tension.”

mydei tilted his head slightly, the smallest of smirks tugging at the corner of his mouth. “tension?” he repeated, his voice smooth and calculated. “i’m simply speaking the truth.”

you shot him a glance, his words echoing in your mind. you’re worth finding.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard him say such things before, but this time, it felt different. There was no teasing, no veiled sarcasm—just the raw sincerity that mydei rarely offered.

“you never do anything half-heartedly, do you?” you said, a small sigh escaping your lips.

mydei didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence looming like a silent promise. His gaze softened as he spoke, but there was still a quiet intensity behind it.

"only when it’s worth it," he said, his voice almost a whisper, but it still hit you like a wave.

your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

he moment hung between you two, the weight of his words settling deep within you. mydei’s presence was suffocating in the best way—an intensity that seemed to radiate from him, the kind that made it impossible to think of anything else but him.

you opened your mouth, but the words stuck. something about his steady gaze and the closeness between you left you speechless, your heart thudding in your chest.

“mydei…” you whispered, almost as if testing the air, "would you like to join me in the bath? i'm sue it'll help relieve any sores you might have?"

mydei's gaze flickered to you, and for a brief moment, the quiet intensity in his eyes softened, replaced by a curious, almost amused glint. he took a step closer, the space between you two shrinking even more.

“you offer me company in the bath?” he asked, his voice holding a hint of surprise. “how… bold.”

you could hear the teasing undertone in his words, but it wasn’t as biting as usual. there was something more… tender in the way he spoke, something that made your heart flutter despite the calmness of the moment.

“i only thought it might help you relax,” you replied, keeping your tone light, though your pulse quickened slightly under his steady gaze. “and you’re always so tense. even the crown prince needs to rest now and then.”

mydei let out a quiet chuckle at that, the sound warm and soft, like the fleeting warmth of the bath. "i’m afraid i’ve never had much time for relaxation," he murmured, his tone shifting again, darker, but with an edge of something more vulnerable. "but perhaps you’re right. it’s been... a long time since i allowed myself the luxury."

there was a pause, and you could see the weight of his words settle over him, like he’d just made a decision. his eyes softened, and he took another step closer, his fingers brushing against your wrist as he gently took your hand.

"then, i’ll join you. for once, perhaps i could allow myself this."

as mydei settled comfortably next to you in the bath, he couldn't help but wonder where phainon had been all this time.

and there was a small voice in the back of his head, saying 'if phainon found you first, would you have invited him into the bath with you?'

he glanced sideways at you, his gaze unreadable for a brief moment as he tried to suppress the discomfort he felt at the idea.

as he took in your relaxed face, mydei realized how important such moments were to the two of you. this was just the start of many more scenarios he would spend with you.

if you enjoyed please consider following/liking/reblogging :)

i just love the idea of unhinged anaxa

[abbotsanatomy]

okay hi!! jack request. i’m thinking about him getting jealous and territorial over someone he knows he has no right to get so riled up about 👀 a forbidden / situationship kind of romance x jealous jack would be so fun. i love the angst if you can’t tell haha

⨳ SEEING GREEN

pairing: jack abbot x chief resident!reader warnings: age gap (28 and 49), resident/attending relationship, power imbalances, workplace situationship, awkward jealousy, angst :(. author's note: this came out a little angstier than expected, forgive me!

Anyone who works the ER night shift knows it's very common to get flirted with on the job. More drunks, less serious injuries, and the inherent attraction patients have for their doctors. It's the holy trinity for inappropriate ER flirtation. You've become used to it. It's why you aren't too bothered when it's a patient you're actually attracted to flirting with you.

Male, mid-30s, third-degree burn injury on his arm, and you've totally met him before. You just can't remember where.

His hair’s a dirty blonde, he’s got a Pitt University hoodie on, with the sleeves pulled up to reveal his injury. This guy’s the kind of pretty anyone would fawn over.

However, he’s got pretty bad luck, because right now he's in an ER chair, with you and nurse Gloria flitting around the room, hooking him up with IV fluids and prophylactic antibiotics.

“You come here often?” he jokes, trying to hold his arm up.

You smile courteously, nodding in his direction.

“Unfortunately,” you respond.

You have to ask for his name to proceed with care, but you don't want to seem like a moron for forgetting it.

If you could just remember...

“Oh. You're Matt. From the dog park, last year?” you almost yell, turning to face him fully.

Matt is one of the many, many flings you've had in the last few years. You'd met him at a dog park, when you were dog-sitting for a friend. He'd asked for your number, and you'd gone on a few very nice dates. It fizzled out eventually, like they always do.

It's totally because you work night shifts and you're way too busy for dating. Totally not because you have a huge, fat, world-ending crush on your attending. The very same attending you seem to be in a push-pull situationship with.

Matt's grinning awkwardly, looking down at the ground, “Ouch. You couldn't remember me?”

“I'm sorry. I've slept exactly three hours in the last two days. I can barely remember my own name,” you explain, pulling a crash cart close.

He closes an eye tight and tilts his head to one side like he's thinking really hard. “Oh, yeah. What was it, by the way?”

“Ha, ha. Very funny,” you deadpan.

You break out into a fit of laughter the moment he does. You can sense Gloria side-eyeing you both. So, you clear your throat to remind him and yourself that you are still in an ER.

“So, how'd this happen, Matt?” you ask.

“I was making a late night cup of tea. Can't sleep, y'know,” he narrates, and you nod in understanding. “Then the water from the kettle fell on my arm, and I came rushing so I wouldn't lose it.”

You chuckle at that, “You won't be losing it. We're just going to have to remove all of the dead skin surrounding the wound so it heals well.”

“Do you feel any pain?”

“No, it stopped hurting a little after it happened,” he tells you.

His eyes are no longer focused on you, though. Instead, they've drifted to someone else outside of the little curtained cubicle you're occupying. You instinctively turn around to be met with none other than the very same man who's been interrupting your romantic endeavors for years.

“Doctor Abbot,” you greet, even though you've already seen him many times tonight.

Jack just nods. It's a little off, but you won't comment on that. He doesn't have to become miraculously happy every time he sees you, even though he usually is.

“This is my attending. Dr.Jack Abbot, one of our finest,” you introduce, turning back towards Matt.

Jack crosses his arms over his chest. He smiles at the patient, but it's a tight, imperceptible thing. There's a palpable tension in the air.

Proceeding with care is probably your best option in this situation. So, you pull the top drawer of the crash cart open. You're sliding your nitrile gloves on when Jack stops you.

“Present the case,” he demands, saying your last name in a way that sends a thrill down your spine. He isn't even looking your way, his eyes are dead set on Matt.

Is he serious? you ask yourself.

It doesn't make any sense. You're a senior resident. This is a case way below your skill level. He knows this. You know this.

So, you just stare at him for a long beat. You almost forget Matt's even there, until he clears his throat loudly. It pulls you back to reality.

“Um, alright,” you surrender.

“Matthew Morgan, thirty-seven. He just has a third-degree burn on his arm.”

Obviously, you almost say.

Jack walks over to assess the IV you have set up, “What do you have him hooked up with?”

It's such a trivial question, you're offended to even be asked it. Doctor Abbot isn't only your supervisor, he's also someone you respect deeply. So, you won't argue with him here. You're saving that for later.

“Electrolytes, and antibiotics.”

He nods, and he's still staring daggers into Matt. It's almost turned into this weird power play where he's trying to show this guy you'll answer whatever question he asks, you'll do whatever he wants. He's staking his claim over you.

Suddenly, it feels like the room's gotten a lot hotter. You can feel the fluorescent light of the ER beat down harder on your face. When you finally find your voice again, it's slightly angrier than usual.

“And we were just about to proceed with debridement.”

“Perfect. Wouldn't you rather the new intern try it out for the first time?” he's asking it like a question, but his tone leaves no room for argument. Not right now, anyway.

“I could oversee,” he offers. “Doctor Shen's about to perform an emergency thoracotomy for a lobectomy, if you'd like to go help out.”

The last time you heard of a procedure so intricate happening during the night shift at PTMC, you were probably a second-year resident. It's the most excitement the night shift's had in a very long time. Of course you want to help out. He knows you do.

It's no surprise when you shoot Matt an apologetic smile and tell him Jack and the new intern, Sarah, are going to be taking over. The moment you're out of sight, you sprint to trauma room two.

You're not sure whether you should thank Abbot or murder him.

The hinges on your locker creak as you pull it open to grab your things and finally head home. You're about to grab your jacket, when you spot Jack heading into the bathroom. The one with the broken lock.

Before you can even think twice about this totally horrible decision, you've already infiltrated the bathroom. Thankfully, when you look up, he's just washing his hands.

“This bathroom's clearly not empty,” he informs you, still washing his hands.

You nod and walk to stand closer to him.

“Yeah. I know.”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, but he's smiling at you through the mirror.

“I just wanted to give you a taste of how intrusive it feels to have you micromanaging my cases,” you cross your arms in over-exaggerated disapproval.

“I mean, that's not even your job.” You hope that drives the point home.

Jack turns around, and there's about five inches in between you now. He's maintaining so much eye contact, that your eyes start going back and forth between his and the dirty, tiled floor.

“You mean assigning you cases? That's absolutely my job,” he reasons, wiping his hands down with the tissue.

“That's not what that was. I don't even know what the hell that was back there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you want me presenting the case one minute, and then you want me off of it completely the next. So, forgive me if I'm a little confused.”

Jack turns away to throw the paper towel into the trash can, letting it fall closed with a loud clang.

“What exactly is it you're confused about?”

You just blink at him for a long moment. He genuinely has no idea. You're not the one confused here. He is.

“You're not my boyfriend, Jack,” you whisper.

Jack's eyes are on the floor the moment you say it. He smiles like a man who's just realizing the tragedy in life's comedy. Your words hang in the air for a moment.

“Believe me, I know that,” he murmurs.

You shake your head in confusion, “So, what's up with you acting like you don't? You can't—”

You pause to take a breath.

“You have to know, when you do things like that. Back there. It confuses me. It fucks with my brain,” you sigh shakily.

You step back, “I can't keep doing this, Jack. I can't keep going out with guys, taking them back to my apartment, kissing them, and then having to kick them out ten minutes later.”

His eyebrows are set into a deep frown. He's putting his hands into his pocket, and just staring.

“Because every single time I do it, all I see is you. And your eyes.”

“I'm stuck,” you confess.

When the tears start falling, he moves quickly. His arms are wrapped around you in seconds, your face buried into his chest.

“It isn't fair,” your voice is muffled into the fabric of his uniform, but he understands you perfectly.

His fingers are slowly threading through your hair. You can feel his breath grow heavy on your skin. Your tears are staining his scrub top. He nods slowly.

“I know. I'm sorry,” he says, his voice raspier than usual.

He pulls your face up, with a hand on each cheek. Your eyes lock, but you can't stop crying. His thumbs gently wipe away the tears there.

“I know. It is,” he affirms.

You know it won't happen, but you wish he'd just kiss you, right here, right now. You want so badly the one thing you can't have.

[smileysuh]

model cowboy

🌙 starring. Jeong Jaehyun x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You maintain eye contact until the moment your lips meet, and then, you do your best to just relax, to forget about the cameras pointed at you. You allow yourself to melt into the kiss, following Jaehyun's motions, following the gentle notes that soon become more heated. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip, and on instinct, you open your mouth for him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to pull him closer.  You try to convince yourself that you’re leaning into this for the sake of the scene, that you’re just being good actors together, but there’s something underneath it all. There’s a desperation. You can almost taste it below the spearmint on his tongue. 

tw/cw. unprotected sex, dry humping, breast worship, slow and adequate foreplay/pussy stretching/prepping, pussy eating, fingering, praise, slight switchy power dynamic but Jae is generally the dom/top, slight overstim, face riding, slight hair pulling, precum (jae is horny), dirty talk, sappy sex, alcohol, etc… I pet names: (hers) superstar.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 13.2k

🍭 aus.actor!Jaehyun, singer!y/n, fake dating au, enemies to lovers au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. it was actually so fun to have small clips of TMZ style gossip reporting- loved that I was able to try different things with this fic :)

Prologue

In this week's news, our favorite kids' show alumni are back on the scene together. Beloved model and actor Jung Jaehyun teams up with childhood costar (y/n) (l/n) for her new single Model Cowboy. This song will mark the kick-off of her third album, and the music video is set to start production sometime early next month, with the song coming out on iTunes and other streaming platforms sometime in the new year.

There’s a lot of buzz on social media about this pairing, as the two stars were ‘shipped’ incessantly in their teen years, with one user commenting, “It’s like Britney and Justin Timberlake all over again! Ah!!!!!”

While Jaehyun has had a string of relationships over the years, our favorite girl power singer y/n has only recently ended a long-term relationship with football player Lee Jeno. When asked how this separation would affect her new album, y/n had this to say: “I want to draw on the pain of a breakup because that feeling is so universal, but at the same time, I want the album to be fun. It’s about ending one cycle, and sure, giving yourself the space and grace to mourn that loss, but also looking forward at the future and other opportunities that come your way when you go through something like that.”

When asked about the new single Model Cowboy, y/n noted, “It’s about going back to your roots and finding that cowboy, blue-collar man. I think the trades are kind of in vogue right now, for all of the best reasons. We want salt of the earth, we want a man who will provide and take care of us- not everything is luxury and partying. There’s such peace in stability, and I want to honor the simplicity of good relationships, which we all deserve to experience.”

Despite all of this, when our reporters enquired about Jaehyun as the star of the music video, who, to us and many fans on social media, doesn’t scream ‘salt of the earth, cowboy, or stability’ our singer simply responded with “No comment.”

Yikes.

However, there may be hope for this fan-favorite couple yet. When Jaehyun was asked about his role in the music video at a recent film premiere for his new action movie ‘Home Grown’ he had this to say: “I did a few music videos in my early twenties, but never with anyone I really knew or admired. I’ve been focused on movies and fashion recently, but I’m excited to do a shorter-form art piece. y/n and her team are very creative, and I can’t wait to see the finished result.” 

I can safely say that we can’t wait either.

Back when y/n was just eighteen, putting out her first album, there was one song that everyone thought she wrote about Jaehyun. We couldn’t help but bring this up to the actor. When questioned if he’d inspired y/n’s first hit single, ‘Forget About Him’, Jaehyun said, “That’s not for me to say, you’ll have to ask her.” This response revived years of conspiracy on social media, and we’re all still itching for the truth.

Production for Model Cowboy is set for the end of the month, and permits have been granted for shooting in California’s Joshua Tree National Park. We’ll all be on the edge of our seats waiting for promo pictures and behind-the-scenes photos. 

Stay tuned for all things celebrity drama and news on our website, or follow us on Instagram and Snapchat for daily updates. 

One:

You’re in your trailer with your assistant, Mark, waiting for your call time, and you can’t help the irritation that’s filling you. It’s the first day of shooting for Model Cowboy, and every other time you’ve filmed a music video, you’ve been excited about the creative journey of turning a song into a visual expression- but not today, and there’s one huge reason for your angst.

“I still can’t believe this is happening,” you groan. “Jaehyun wasn’t my first choice for this, and he’ll never be my first choice for this- it takes away from the meaning of the song to have him starring with me!”

Mark frowns. “I mean, he’s not exactly a model cowboy-”

“More like a model pretending to be a cowboy,” you scoff. 

Your assistant sighs. “Management just wants you two to do this, fake date for a while, promote your music and his upcoming projects, draw intrigue-”

“I know it’s what management wants, I was forced to sign the contract,” you snap. Then you release a breath, getting control of yourself. This isn’t Mark’s fault, in fact, he argued your side in the meeting about this two months ago. “I just… I’m not a huge fan of Jaehyun.”

“You always said he was the most overly confident, smug, pretty boy that came out of your kids’ show,” Mark nods. He’s very good at summing up your difficulties, as he’s your most trusted confidant. You’d never dream of being vocal about your personal opinions of Jaehyun to anyone else, your PR training has taught you not to be fully honest, to prioritize your reputation as a ‘good girl’- but Mark, he gets you. 

“At the end of the day,” you sigh, “sure, Jae might be a better actor, but I’m the better singer.”

“I know you won’t want to hear this-”

“Then don’t say it.”

Mark sends you a pointed look. “He did do that cover of ‘I Like Me Better When I’m With You,’ and everyone loved it.”

“Well, Jaehyun doesn’t have three albums and a Grammy. He did a cover. It’s not like that’s difficult.” 

Before Mark can say anything else, there’s a knock on your trailer. You jump up, ready to start the day of shooting, but when you open your door, it’s not a PA standing there to take you to location, it’s Jaehyun.

He’s dressed in a cowboy-style outfit, however, it’s more runway than practical, and he’s also wearing the same smug smile he always used to have on when you were working together as kids and young adults.

“Long time no see,” Jaehyun muses. 

You roll your eyes. “Don’t pretend you’re happy to see me.”

You know your dislike for Jaehyun is shared with his own disdain for you, and you’d noted that to your managers. How are either of you going to pretend to be in love when this general dissatisfaction with each other is evident every time you’re in the same room?

“Thought I’d come to discuss the whole fake dating script with you, you know, kind of like running lines.”

“There aren’t any lines for our fake dating scenario yet, it’s improv,” you remind him.

“Then, how about boundaries?”

You release a groan. “Fuck it, let’s go find my PA, get in a car to go to location, and we can talk during the drive.”

Two:

There’s a tension in the SUV. With you on his left, your assistant behind you, and Jaehyun’s own manager, Johnny, behind him, everything anyone says will be noted. In fact, Jaehyun’s been listening to Johnny argue on the phone about a brand deal for the past ten minutes.

You’d said you’d discuss the whole fake dating thing, but instead, your eyes are glued to your iPad as you look over the music video notes. 

Jaehyun has always found you to be a very focused woman, he might go so far as to say you have a stick up your ass. Your rigidity is a stark contrast to his own ‘go with the flow’ type of way of doing things, and it’s one of the reasons you’d never gotten along well on sets.

When he’d come to your trailer to discuss PR lines, it had been because he was trying to meet you where you’re at. He thought you’d want to plan. In fact, he’d found it almost laughable when you’d told him it would be improv because out of the two of you, he’s the one that’s always excelled in that area. 

You have this face you put on for others, but Jaehyun’s always seen through it. You lack confidence in yourself, and that’s why you overcompensate by being anal about details, about practicing so you never fail when the time comes. 

Jaehyun leans closer to you, getting a look at the music video notes. The aesthetic board is very desert, horses, sand, sparkles, disco balls, and mirrors- for someone who said Model Cowboy was about finding someone who wasn’t all luxury, there are definitely luxury items in the music video notes. 

“So… tell me again what the song’s about?” Jaehyun asks.

You sigh. “Mark sent you a sound clip, didn’t he? Did you even bother to listen to the song?”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun shrugs, “but I wanted to hear the details from you.”

You take an exasperated deep breath, putting your iPad down on your lap. “It’s about falling in love with someone who’s very salt of the Earth-”

“What do you mean by that?”

Your lips part in shock and annoyance. “It means a man who’s salt of the Earth.” 

“Yeah, you said that, but like…” Jaehyun lets out a small laugh at how bad you’re fumbling this, “what does that mean, to you.” 

Mark shifts in the seat behind you, leaning forward to join the conversation. “It means someone who is honest, and reasonable. Someone who doesn’t think they’re special or better than others.”

You flash Jaehyun a pointed look. “So basically, not you.” 

Jaehyun chuckles. “Baby, neither of us are salt of the earth if that’s your definition.” 

He can see how annoyed you are, can pick up the micro movements, the way your fingers are tapping on the edge of the iPad. It’s a rhythmic thing, something you do to calm yourself, and he’d noticed that pattern in you when you were much younger. 

“This whole fake dating thing was not my idea,” you snap finally.

“Yeah, wasn’t mine either. We both have PR managers.”

You roll your eyes, letting out another exasperated sound of annoyance. 

Jaehyun kind of likes poking at you like this. He’d been worried that you’d be super anal about this whole project, and while you’re definitely fighting for control, he likes to jab you where your guard is down. It feels like a win to him, and deep in Jaehyun’s core, he knows it’s not a nice thing to do, but he simply can’t help himself.

You have a history, years of interactions and bickering- he hasn’t seen you in a long time, but getting on your nerves is as easy as it’s always been, and that schoolboy enjoyment from picking on you is as potent as it ever was. 

Three:

You’re a couple of hours into your day, and you’re doing some shots with horses now. You’d chosen Hwasa as your director, she’s a visionary in the type of aesthetic you want, and you’ve worked with her numerous times before. She’s very girl power, which is what you love, and you also enjoy the fact that she sees this as a collaboration.

You’ve worked with male directors in the past who think your music video is about showing their vision, and in your early days as a teen, you hadn’t been able to find your voice. Now, as an adult, you have the final say on everything, and Hwasa is the best partner you could think of for a project like this.

The two of you are by the cameras, making sure the shot will be good. The horses are just hanging out with their trainers, and Jaehyun’s a few meters away under the sun tent, waiting for direction.

“So… I’m thinking…” you look at Jaehyun, then at the saddles on the horses, “What if we try a shot with bareback.”

Hwasa casts you a sideways glance. “I mean… visually, I think that would be nicer, it would encapsulate freedom, but at the same time… is Jaehyun skilled enough to mount while bareback?”

“He’s an actor isn’t he?” You turn to look at Jaehyun. God, you can’t wait for him to fall off the horse and eat shit. “Jae!”

He’s sitting in a chair, his head tipped back, cowboy hat obscuring his face. The sound of your voice makes him sit up, his fingers pushing the rim of the hat up so he can look at you.

“Come over here!” Hwasa calls.

He nods, standing then swaggering over to you. He’s having way too much fun in his little cowboy outfit for your liking. “What’s up?”

“How do you feel about trying this scene on bareback?” Hwasa asks.

Jaehyun looks at the two of you, then over at the horse. “We can give it a go.”

You try to hide your smile, God, this is going to be so satisfying.

Hwasa goes to consult with the safety guys and trainers, who take off the saddle, then talk Jaehyun through how to mount a horse without the aid of stirrups. He nods nonchalantly, as smug as ever.

The scene gets ready, with you and Hwasa behind the camera. “Action!” she calls.

Jaehyun approaches the horse. He stops next to it, stroking it’s hair. You watch him get a gentle grip, and then, in one fluid motion, he hoists himself up, swinging his leg over the horse’s back before steadying himself into a seated position. He guides the horse by its hair to make a neat circle, looking like the most skilled cowboy ever, then he turns and flashes you that smug smile of his as Hwasa yells “cut!”

“That was amazing,” Hwasa tells you. “God, Jaehyun was such a good choice for this.”

“Really? How so?” you ask.

“Just, I know he’s not a stereotypical salt of the earth man. He’s not all American, he’s not a cowboy with a five o'clock shadow- this… dichotomy of visuals versus lyrical interpretation, how any man can be the right man if given the chance, despite all these stereotypes-” 

You can feel your expression fall. Sometimes you hate how artsy Hwasa is, with her bachelor's in English and her way with words and interpretations. You can’t argue with her analysis, because if that’s what she gets out of the visual of Jaehyun flawlessly mounting a horse bareback, then that’s her view of it. 

“Do you want to try to mount bareback too?” Hwasa asks, drawing herself out of her musings to focus on the scenes she wants in the time allotted. 

You release a sigh. “I guess we can give it a try.”

“If it’s too dangerous-”

“If Jae can do it, I can too,” you insist, not wanting to be one-upped by him. 

You’re in a long flowy silver dress with a slit up the thigh, and you remove your white overcoat. Jenni, your makeup artist double-checks you, and you’re handed your flashy disco-ball-styled cowboy hat. 

The safety team and trainers give you a talk about how to mount the horse, and after listening carefully, you feel ready to take on the task. 

Your horse is black, and your outfit is meant to be a contrast. It’s a beautiful horse, and when Hwasa calls ‘Action!’ you approach it carefully. You can feel your heart racing in your chest, and you stop next to the large animal, stroking it for a moment while you gain the courage to try to mount it.

As you make the leap, hoisting yourself up- Jaehyun calls out, “Don’t slip!”

And of course, that’s exactly what happens. Your leg can’t get a grip over the horse, you trip up a little with the silky material of your dress, and just like that, you’re back on the ground with two feet, sending a death glare over your shoulder at Jaehyun.

“It was a nice effort!” Hwasa encourages you. 

“Not many people get it on their first try,” a trainer agrees.

You watch Jaehyun smile smugly, and an annoyance unlike any you’ve ever experienced fills you as he meticulously watches you try to complete the scene. 

Four: 

It’s near the end of your first day of filming. Hwasa had decided on a one day permit for the horses in the desert, opting to get all the scenes involving the large, beautiful animals done in one big go, and now, she’s explaining the final shots she needs to you and Jaehyun.

“So, we’re skipping through the linear timeline a little right now,” your director explains. “This is one of the final shots of the music video, so we’re going to imagine that at this point, the two of you are completely in love.” You and Jaehyun exchange a look. “You’re riding on horseback in the desert. We want bliss, joy, a comfortable kind of peace that comes when you can truly be yourself with another person, a freedom.”

She gazes pointedly at you and Jaehyun.

“I think we can manage,” you scene partner says, but there’s an edge of hesitation in his voice.

“We’re thinking ‘Ride’ by Lana Del Rey, but instead of motorcycles, you’re on horses. Think about how effortless she looked, how devil-may-care,” Hwasa, ever the Lana Del Rey enthusiast, explains. “You know her song ‘Young and Beautiful?’ There’s a line, ‘Hot summer nights, mid July, when you and I were forever wild.’ Do you guys have that?” 

You love that Hwasa enjoys poetic music, it’s one of the reasons you’d been so drawn to her when you wanted to shift out of your role as a child star turned pop icon. Hwasa had been adamant about the Lana Del Rey stylings that she wanted to influence ‘Model Cowboy,’ the American Dream, wild and poetic love. 

However, with all that said, you’d never imagined Lana Del Rey would be tainted by the imaginings of Jaehyun as your lover, and it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

You’ve already gone over blocking, and Hwasa’s explained the drones and cameras set up to take the shots, so now, all that’s left to do, is get through the day.

Jaehyun can tell you’re lost in thought, he can see the dissatisfied look on your face, but before he can call you on it, Johnny pulls him to the side.

“Good luck with this one,” Johnny muses, patting him on the shoulder. “And don’t fall off your horse, you’ve got to be in Milan in a couple of days for the big Prada show.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jaehyun brushes his manager off. “I’ve got this.”

“That’s my little go-getter actor,” Johnny grins, having scored a goldmine when he landed Jaehyun as his client, despite being a very young and new manager in the industry. “Be the Model Cowboy you always wanted to be.”

Jaehyun takes a deep breath before joining you. “You ready?” he asks.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh. 

“Okay guys, we’re in love!” Hwasa bellows. “We’ve got this! And… action!”

Your expression immediately changes, suddenly, you’re grinning, in fact, you’re glowing. It takes a second for Jaehyun to follow your lead, but then, the two of you are playfighting and tickling, laughing like young lovers who are tasting what it feels like to have found their soulmate for the very first time. 

Jaehyun knows the blocking, he knows when to wrap his arms around you after a few feet of chasing, when to lift you up and spin you as you laugh and gently kick. He knows when to set you down, going in for a kiss only for you to break free and dart to your horse, effortlessly swinging yourself up onto the black stallion and taking off.

Jaehyun is right behind you, mounting his own white horse and following.

He does his best to keep an easy going, loving expression, and at first, it’s a little difficult. But, as more seconds of the two of you riding through the desert go by, Jaehyun remembers the way he felt about you when you first met.

You’d been just kids then. Two young teens still growing into your bodies, into your personalities. He remembers how beautiful you’d been, even then, how your smile had lit up the room, as it does now when you turn your head to look over your shoulder at him, making sure the distance between you is still correct.

Of course it’s correct, if you want to be anal, Jaehyun can be anal too, and he’s not going to give you any reason to nitpick after the day he’s had. 

No, Jaehyun’s an actor. He’s a professional.

In fact, he’s a Model Cowboy as he chases you through the desert on horseback. 

God, the way you’re looking back at him- you’ve really grown into your looks, and Jaehyun’s not making things up when he says you’re glowing. The golden hour sun is hitting you just right, and suddenly, Jaehyun’s heart is racing. He feels alive, he feels- as if this whole thing is real. He forgets the cameras for just a few moments, getting lost in the experience of being young, wild, and free, with you. 

Something shifts inside of him, although, Jaehyun’s so enthralled with you that he can’t quite pin what’s just taken place.

The scene is over all too quickly, the two of you making your blocking mark at the bottom of one of the rocky cliff faces that litter Joshua Tree National Park. You slow your horse, coming to a stop, your expression falling.

Jaehyun feels his own smile drop as he stops next to you. He swallows thickly, not knowing quite what to say, so, he decides to note, “Wow, your acting has really improved!”

He means it as a compliment, but your expression turns even more sour, and he knows he’s messed up.

“Well that’s a back handed compliment if I’ve ever heard one,” you scowl.

“I-” Jaehyun’s words get caught in his throat, and he has to swallow a lump just to continue, “I meant it in a good way, I was trying to be nice.” 

“If that was you trying to be nice, it makes sense why you can’t keep a girlfriend for more than a month or so,” you snap.

Jaehyun’s chest hurts, and he stares at you in shock. It’s all the more painful, because in some ways, what you’ve just said is true. He’s used to only dating models, people in the industry who aren’t as successful as he is. He’s only ever entered relationships where there’s a power imbalance, and he supposes in a situation like that, any negative feedback could be biting- yet, it’s different with you.

You’re the one with the power here, and it’s clear you won’t take any criticisms from him. You stand up for yourself, in a way no woman ever has around Jaehyun.

As he watches you lead your horse away, signaling the end of the interaction, Jaehyun realizes maybe he kind of likes that you’re very powerful in your own right. Maybe he likes a woman who can defend herself and doesn’t just take what the world throws at her.

Maybe… just maybe, after all this time, he likes you. 

Five: 

The locations crew had found a really cool oldstyle cowboy motel for everyone to stay at. It had been relatively inexpensive compared to other filming location lodgings in the past, and renting the whole place, including the mess hall, for four days had been the obvious choice.

You’re sitting with Mark and Hwasa, all three of you have trays of food from the buffet, but none of you are focused on eating. Hwasa has her iPad out, and she’s going through the shots of the day with Mark. You remind yourself when you peak at the screen that there’s still a lot of editing to do, but so far, it’s looking quite good. 

Your stylist, Jenni, is also with you, and she’s capturing the majority of your attention as she shows you pictures of the costumes set for tomorrow. Your long silver dress is being swapped out for a pink palette upscale cowgirl aesthetic, with Jaehyun in creams and blues to match the lighter blush colours. 

You notice Jaehyun walk into the large dining area. He and his manager, Johnny, head straight for the food, and they tilt their heads together, thick as thieves out of ear shot.

When they’re done filling their trays, they begin to head to a table, and that’s when Hwasa calls them over. “Rough shots,” she explains. “Jae, you sit next to y/n and I’ll show you both some of the details.”

You flash Jenni a look, hating that she has to move over for the model to sit.

Jaehyun is awkward as he does so, apologizing to Jenni, which is his only saving grace.

When he settles, your shoulders are touching, and he leans closer to get a look at the iPad that Hwasa is holding. Hwasa doesn’t show all the shots, just her favourites, and you have to admit, the visuals are stunning even before any editing for light and colour.

Then, Hwasa shows you all the footage from the last scene you’d shot, the one with you and Jaehyun playfighting then leaping on horses.

“This is so good,” Hwasa tells you. “You both look so natural on horses, the drone shots are perfect, and the golden hour? Stunning.” 

While all of that is true, you’re more focused on how in love you and Jaehyun look. It’s weird to be seeing you and Jaehyun like this. It’s almost out of body, or doppleganger realm, because how the heck did you manage to look so happy and in love with Jeong Jaehyun of all people?

You feel the actor shift next to you, and you get the sense that he’s uncomfortable with it as well… however, out of the two of you, he has way more experience on screen. You guess you shouldn’t be shocked that he looks very much in love, he gets paid big money to sell those emotions.

“Anyways,” Hwasa sighs, “y/n, tomorrow morning, we shoot sunrise and into the afternoon, then Jaehyun, the latter half of the day is us at the ranch for some more ‘classic’ cowboy scenes.”

“Sounds good,” Jaehyun mumbles. With one last nod of appreciation, he stands up, and it’s as if he can’t get to another table fast enough. 

Six: 

They’ve been shooting Jaehyun’s cowboy scenes for a couple of hours when he notices your arrival on set. You’re not in the pink costume he’d heard about you wearing this morning, and you’re not all dolled up either.

You’re in a light jacket and jean shorts, a more relaxed look, and yet, you’re still stunning.

You’re next to Hwasa, looking at camera angles and shots, and while you seem to be making a few notes to the director, Jaehyun appreciates that you aren’t trying to micromanage him yourself. 

Shooting continues for another hour, and Hwasa calls a short break so she can figure out what else needs to be done today while they have the ranch.

At first, Jaehyun just goes and grabs a water. Johnny is hyping him up, but the actor is hardly paying attention, his gaze focused on you instead. 

Jaehyun can’t help himself, he walks over to you. You look up from Hwasa like a deer in headlights, and something about it is very endearing. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, can I uh… talk to you for a sec?” Jaehyun asks.

“You know what? Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you nod, “come with me.”

You grab his arm, dragging him away. Jaehyun’s a little confused as to where you’re taking him, and when he finds himself in the privacy of a secluded location behind his trailer, he’s even more confounded. 

“Uh….” he starts, wetting his lips.

“What did you need?”

“I was just… guess I was wondering what you were doing here? Didn’t your shoot finish a couple of hours ago? Figured you’d be getting some rest at the motel.”

“It’s my music video,” you remind him. “Also… management thought it would be good to let tabloids get some shots of us shooting today, that’s why I pulled you over here, we allowed them the field of view to your trailer.”

“So that’s why you took me to such a secluded spot,” Jaehyun grins. 

“It’s the only reason I touched your arm,” you retort.

“Careful, don’t look so angry,” Jaehyun warns you, his hands reaching out to grab your hips and pull you closer. “Wouldn’t want to mess up your tabloid shots.”

You roll your eyes. “Tabloid won’t be on the property till after your last take in an hour or so. Don’t jump the gun, cowboy. After your next scene, you can be as much of a little model slut as you’d like.”

“You think I’m a slut?” Jaehyun asks, shocked that you’re talking to him in this way.

“Am I wrong?”

Jaehyun stands there for a moment, and then, he releases his grip on your hips. “Guess not.”

“So, after you’re done the next scene, we come here, and see if we can pretend to like each other,” you instruct. 

“We just have to be as convincing as we were yesterday,” Jaehyun muses.

You open your mouth to respond, but then you shut it, and Jaehyun’s left wondering what you would have said for the next hour.

He wonders how far you’ll let him take things, and part of him wishes you’d answered his question about boundaries yesterday. This feels like uncharted waters, and his heart is racing when he finally meets you behind his trailer again. 

“Okay,” you sigh. “Do your worst.”

Jaehyun feels himself begin to salivate, and he swallows thickly. There’s no way he’ll do his worst. His worst, would be throwing you against the trailer and having his way with you right here and now- asserting his dominance and seeing if you push back in any way- he suspects you like him more than you let on, after all, Jaehyun’s never met a girl he couldn’t tame.

Life’s hard when you have a stunning face and a hot body to match. 

Jaehyun reaches for your hips, pulling you closer. His skin is tingling with excitement. “I’m going to say something funny, and you should laugh,” he whispers.

You grin broadly, but the expression doesn’t meet your eyes. “Depends on if what you say is funny or not,” you counter. 

Jaehyun’s mind suddenly goes blank. His pick-up lines, his jokes- they all fly out the proverbial window. He doesn’t know what to say, so instead, he begins to lean in-

You turn your head at the last second and Jaehyun’s lips graze past your cheek. He’s a little taken aback at first, but he leans into it, reminding himself that you’d told him to improv. “Is this okay?” he whispers in your ear, still wanting to double-check with you although every fiber of his being is telling him to just do what he wants.

“It’s okay,” you respond, wrapping your arms loosely around the back of his neck. “You’re the actor.”

For some reason, it feels like a compliment that you’re making the distinction between the two of you. You’re right, he’s the actor, and you’re the Grammy award-winning singer.

His lips continue softly on your cheek, and then he adjusts, pressing kisses down to your throat. You shift in his embrace, tilting your head to the side to give him more access.

“Jae-” you warn.

“Just a few more, for the tabloids,” he whispers, nuzzling into your neck moreso than kissing now.

You release a sigh, and with your chests pressed together, Jaehyun can feel your heart racing.

He wonders if you can feel his going a mile a minute too. 

Seven: 

You eat in your room with Mark, too shaken up by your interaction with Jaehyun earlier to dare enter the mess hall yourself. 

“So, I was just sent the tabloid pictures for final approval,” Mark sighs, joining you on the bed so you can see his phone. “They’ll be up in the morning.”

“Just choose your favourites,” you murmur.

“Uh…” Mark blinks at you. “I really think you should look at them with me.”

You take a deep breath. “Fine.” 

Shifting your gaze to Mark’s phone, he scrolls through the shots, and you hate how natural they look. You and Jaehyun just look good together, and it sets your teeth on edge.

“The cheek kissing is cute,” Mark says thoughtfully. “The way you’re holding each other looks real.” 

It looks too real, in fact.

“I’m just happy we have opposing shoot schedules tomorrow,” you admit with another deep breath. You can see Mark side-eying you, and you hold up a hand before he can respond. “Don’t say a word.” 

“It’s just…” Mark struggles at times to surpass your commands. He’s your assistant first and foremost, but your company also expects him to have somewhat of a managerial role over you, and you know it’s a fight for him to find balance at times. “Everyone has shipped the two of you since you were younger. People say it’s like Britney and Justin in the Mickey Mouse Club House show- then you were teenagers, and you went different directions-” 

“Well, Britney and Justin didn’t end up together, did they?” It’s a rhetorical question, and from the way Mark sighs, he knows it.

“You’re missing the point,” he struggles.

You turn your gaze to him. “Am I?”

Mark releases a breath, dropping the issue. You feel bad shutting him down like this, but at the same time, you don’t want to open the can of ‘Jaehyun’ worms, if you will. No, you’d much rather ignore it for right now.

You’re filming a music video for your new album, and you have much bigger fish to fry. 

Eight: 

If Jaehyun wasn’t needed for business calls with Johnny today, he might be on set watching you, and Jaehyun can’t get it out of his head as he chills in his motel room and listens to his manager working.

It’s three hours into calls and details before Johnny is able to take a break, and he sets down his phone with a pointed look on his face. “You’re being weird.”

“Am I?” Jaehyun lets out a small laugh, but there’s little humor in it.

“Talk to me,” Johnny says lightly, giving an air of friendship despite the fact that he’s still in his role as manager. “Talk to me about this whole PR, fake dating thing.” 

Jaehyun shrugs. “What’s there to talk about?”

“Those fake tabloid pictures of you and y/n from yesterday on set dropped an hour ago, they’re trending on Twitter,” Johnny points out.

“It’s called ‘X’ now, actually.” 

Johnny narrows his eyes. “I’m never going to call it ‘X.’ It’s fucking Twitter.” 

Jaehyun can’t help but laugh, for real this time. He loves Johnny, loves him for all of his little millennial quirks.

“Honestly?” Jaehyun sighs, feeling his energy sift again. “Y/N’s super uptight, but… she can act like she’s not, and that’s a different side of her that I wasn’t really expecting.” 

Johnny is quiet for a few moments. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it.”

“That song from her first album, ‘Forget About Him,’ was that written about you? Is there a past here?”

“Nah, it wasn’t about me,” Jaehyun assures his manager. “As far as I know, she’s never been interested in me like that. We had this other costar, Haechan-”

“Lee Donghyuck?”

“Yeah, him. They uh, I think there was something there between them, for a little while at least.”

Jaehyun can feel Johnny’s assessing gaze, and he averts his own eyes. 

“It almost seems like you’re jealous, Jae.”

“Yeah, well, Haechan never went on to become a brand ambassador for Prada or star in movies, he was just some little child star.” Jaehyun can taste the bitterness in his words, but he can’t help himself. 

“You know who’s not just a child star?” Johnny asks. “Y/N. You two are, without argument, the most successful people to come out of the show you were in when you were younger.”

“We’re both very driven,” Jaehyun admits. “I do admire that about her, she has a Grammy for fucks sake.”  

“What I’m getting from this,” Johnny concludes, “is that you’re completely fine with this whole fake dating arrangement.”

“Well, as my manager, you should know I’m a good actor,” Jaehyun counters.

Johnny laughs. “Sure you are. Tomorrow is the last day of shooting, you’ve got that big kissing scene, I guess we’ll all see how good of an actor you are then.” 

Nine: 

There’s something comical about the fact that both you and Jaehyun are chewing gum in preparation for your kissing scene. Together, you’re with Hwasa as she goes over the vision for the shot. 

“So, we’re thinking Jae’s going to grab your neck,” Hwasa starts, “gently, of course. More of a cupping the nape of your neck than a grab, actually. It’s going to be slow, a slow exploration of moving closer. Lots of close-ups of the two of you gazing into each other’s eyes. It’s about breaking the distance, about two worlds colliding and connecting in a way that feels natural, unrushed, and just, electric.” 

Jaehyun nods, looking at you. “We can do this.” You wish you were as sure as he sounds right now.

Jaehyun takes out a tissue, and the two of you spit out your gum, disposing the trash before moving into position.

The shot is on the edge of a cliff, with the desert and sunset stretching out like a vast, yellowy-orange ocean behind you. 

It’s as you approach your marked spot that you remember something. “Jae,” you ask softly, “are you still afraid of heights?” 

You watch him take a deep breath, and he nods, standing a few feet from the drop-off. You notice he’s looking everywhere but down, and something inside of you softens for him.

Here you are, worried about the kiss, and here this man is, worried about falling off the edge of a cliff and dying. 

“We’ve got some space between us and the edge,” you tell him, stepping closer. “Here, grab my hips, we’re both steady, we’re not going to fall.”

Jaehyun’s lips part, and you can see the confusion on his face.

You suppose you’ve never been nurturing to him, but you can’t help yourself with this. You don’t mean to be a bitch, in fact, you’d argue adamantly that you’re not a malicious person. Jaehyun just pisses you off a lot, and his behavior generally merits a reaction- but right now, he deserves a bit of peace of mind, and you can see him relax a little as his hands grab your waist.

“Feels more steady?” you double-check.

“Yeah.” He swallows thickly, nodding. 

“We’ve got this,” you assure him.

“Are we ready!?” Hwasa calls.

You flash a thumbs up, turning your attention back to Jaehyun.

“And… action!”

The two of you simply stare at each other for a moment. Hwasa had said she wanted this to be slow. You’re shocked at how exposed you feel looking up into Jaehyun’s eyes. He really is a very handsome man, and he looks so extremely vulnerable right now.

His gaze shifts to your lips, and you allow him to take the lead. One of his hands moves up your body, cupping the back of your neck gently. You can smell the spearmint on his breath, as he moves closer.

You maintain eye contact until the moment your lips meet, and then, you do your best to just relax, to forget about the cameras pointed at you. You allow yourself to melt into the kiss, following Jaehyun’s motions, following the gentle notes that soon become more heated.

His tongue swipes against your bottom lip, and on instinct, you open your mouth for him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to pull him closer. 

You try to convince yourself that you’re leaning into this for the sake of the scene, that you’re just being good actors together, but there’s something underneath it all. There’s a desperation. You can almost taste it below the spearmint on his tongue. 

It feels good to be kissing Jaehyun, and the realization makes you break the kiss, opening your eyes and blinking in an effort to get yourself out of the daze that’s come over you. 

“That was amazing!” Hwasa’s voice is like a slap. “I’ve got some shots, but I’ll need you guys to do it one more time.”

Jesus. 

“You good?” Jaehyun asks.

You nod, swallowing thickly. “Let’s just go again.”

You’re kissing him again all too soon, and this time, it’s like fireworks. Your heart is racing in your chest, your skin electrified as you cling to Jaehyun, diving deeper into the feeling of him.

This time, he’s the one to break the kiss, and he looks away immediately. You notice him breathing heavily, but before you can say anything, Hwasa’s approaching again.

“Okay, that was amazing, and I hate to be that person, but I’ve decided I want drone shots too, so… third time is the charm?” She looks between you and Jaehyun and both of you are quick to nod, although, neither of you has yet found your voice.

“You good?” you ask him as Hwasa goes back to her spot, her main drone lifting into the sky with an electric thrum.

“Yeah, just one more,” Jaehyun says, voice wavering.

The two of you get back into position, and you study Jaehyun carefully. You’re looking at him, truly looking at him, and he’s looking at you with the same fierceness. You can tell something has shifted between the two of you, but at this time, you’re unsure how deep it really is.

He kisses you again on Hwasa’s direction, and you wonder how normal it is to feel this way during a kissing scene with a fellow acting partner.

You’ve never had to do this before, but you know Jaehyun has. He’s been in two or three rom-coms, there must be a way to stay professional after kissing a costar, right? 

But God, he still feels so good.

You’d thought - or maybe hoped - that the first kiss would be a one-off. That the second wouldn’t be as great, and by now, maybe the butterflies would have escaped the cage in your tummy, but no, the feeling surging through you is as powerful and electric as it had been with the first meeting of your lips. 

He leaves you breathless.

Standing on the edge of the cliff with Jaehyun, you realize you’re in deep shit. 

Ten: 

Jaehyun notices you in the mess hall. You’re looking over food, plating up your dinner, and he decides now is as good a time as any to talk to you. 

He doesn’t mean to be a quiet, sneaky sort of guy, but he can’t help the lightness of his walk. When he goes to stand next to you, saying “Hi,” you practically jump, your food stray scrambling a little as you compose yourself.

“Jesus,” you cuss. “You scared me!”

“Sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “So… uh, the shoot is over, I head to Milan tomorrow-”

“Yup, I know your schedule,” you nod, sighing. “It’s in our contract that I come to your show and be front row to watch you, remember?”

“Right, yeah.” Jaehyun swallows thickly. “So… reporters are going to be asking a lot of questions about us.”

“Uh huh, that was the point of the paparazzi pics.” You continue filling your tray with food, so unbothered and cool in your movements that it makes Jaehyun’s heart beat faster. Are you unaffected by your kiss from earlier? Because Jaehyun can’t get the feeling of your lips out of his mind. 

“I just uh, wanted to say, you can trust me to give the right answers and stuff. I’m PR trained.”

God, Jaehyun wants to strangle himself. He feels so nervous, and the look you give him tells him that you think he’s being a dork. He’s definitely being a dork-

“Okay?” you laugh. “I’m PR trained too, we both took classes when we were kids, remember?” 

“Right,” he’s such an idiot, “yeah. Anyways, I guess… I guess I’ll see you in Milan in a couple of days.” 

“Sounds good.”

With one final nod, Jaehyun leaves you be, and he beats himself up about the awkwardness of the conversation for the rest of the night. 

Eleven:

In this week's news, our favourite kids’ show alumni were spotted getting close on set. y/n’s new music video, Model Cowboy, is set to be one of the videos of the summer, starring Prada ambassador Jung Jaehyun. The two have a long history, and while there have been rumors about their romantic connection in the past, nothing has ever been confirmed… until now.

TMZ dropped a photo of the two embracing outside Jaehyun’s trailer, and the internet officially broke. #modelcowboy has been going absolutely wild on X. One user wrote: “all my dreams are finally coming true! Thank you mama e papa!” While another took to X to say this: “At first, I didn’t love Jaehyun as the whole ‘model cowboy’ trope. He just doesn’t fit it for me. But I don’t know, something about the pictures of him and y/n just feels right- guess you don’t need a history as a rancher to be a cowboy, he’s definitely lassoed my heart.“

So far, the general consensus around our new ‘It Couple’ is that it’s been a long time coming. While there’s no official confirmation about their relationship, one of our reporters caught Jaehyun after a show in Milan last night. When asked about their time shooting the music video together, the actor/Prada ambassador had this to say about y/n: “She was amazing. The whole experience [filming Model Cowboy] went without a hitch. She’s super talented, one of the most driven women I know, and I can’t wait to see how this music video pans out for her.”

When asked about the pictures of the two of them that have been trending, Jaehyun said: “I mean, she’s beautiful, she’s an icon- who wouldn’t want a chance with her?” When the reporter clarified by asking if they’re dating, Jaehyun noted, “You’ll have to ask y/n, I’d never be ‘that’ guy who would speak for a powerful woman like her.” 

All we can say is damn, that’s a green flag if we’ve ever seen one. 

Stay tuned for all things celebrity drama and news on our website, or follow us on Instagram and Snapchat for daily updates. 

Twelve: 

There’s nothing like the closing night of a show. Jaehyun feels elated, he feels on the top of his game, like nothing could bring him down. 

“You were amazing,” another model tells him, fluffing her hair up with her hand as the two of them decompress backstage. 

“You were amazing, Vivienne,” he retorts, never feeling more giddy and boyish than he does now. 

“I’m good, but I’m not model of the year good,” she grins. 

“You’re still new,” Jaehyun assures her, although, pride is swelling through him.

He sees her skin flush, her eye lashes fluttering at him-

“Jae?” your voice draws him out of his assessment of Vivienne, and he turns in shock to find you standing there.

You look stunning, your stylist team has really outdone themselves with your looks for the past couple of days- but there’s a sour set to your lips that immediately tells him something is wrong.

“Y/N?” he asks.

“Am I… interrupting something?” your gaze shifts to Vivienne, and Jaehyun immediately understands what’s going on.

“Excuse us,” he says to Vivienne, grabbing your hand to tug you a few feet away. His voice lowers when he asks, “Are you jealous right now?”

“No,” you retort immediately. “What reason would I have to be jealous?”

You’re making a big show about the notion of jealousy being ridiculous, but Jaehyun knows he’s hit the nail on the head. 

“No reason at all,” Jaehyun assures you, and he truly means it. He knows this whole dating this is a PR move, but he hasn’t been able to get you out of his head all week. Every time he’s walked past you sitting front row at the shows- well, he’s been feeling butterflies in a way that he’s hardly been able to admit to himself. “Hey, listen-”

“No, you listen,” you cut him off. “Your show is over, we both fly different places tomorrow morning, management will set our schedules to keep up this whole fake dating thing, I just wanted to say goodbye before I go back to my hotel.” 

“Oh, right.” Jaehyun can feel his heart sink in his chest. “Uh… where are you staying?”

“I’m at the Four Seasons.”

“Do you maybe want to get drinks later or something?” he asks.

“I’m sure you have after parties to go to with your… model friends.” Your gaze shifts to Vivienne again, and that same sour twist to your lips appears.

Jaehyun wants to reassure you, but- the words just aren’t coming. Besides, what would he even say? We’re fake dating but I’ve been rethinking our entire dynamic since we kissed and now I’m not so sure I want it to be fake, because I’m actually really into you, and all of our bickering in the past has been because I’m jealous of your driven nature and I’ve seen you as competition but now I see that we can do more together than apart?

It feels like a lot of word vomit, and Jaehyun’s not about to projectile all of that at you right now. He doesn’t want to look stupid again, doesn’t want to feel like an idiot. He’s scared of rejection, in a way he’s never been scared of it before. 

Instead, dejected, he just nods. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Okay, so you go have fun, I’m going back to my hotel, and like I said, I’ll see you when I see you.”

Jaehyun watches you leave, and suddenly, the high from the fashion show has depleted. No one has ever had this kind of hold on his emotions before, and Jaehyun knows he’s going to have to do something about it, he just doesn’t know what. 

Thirteen: 

“Jeeze, Mark, I told you, I’m going to bed-” Your words cut off as you open your hotel door and find Jaehyun, not Mark, standing there.

“Uh… Hi?” Jaehyun smile sheepishly, and you look him up and down.

He’s in a form fitting suit, but it looks somewhat ragged. His shirt is unbuttoned haphazardly, his hair a little fussed, and his cheeks are flushed pink. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“Well, I went to the afterparty, like you told me to, but… I don’t know, I just felt bad about how we left things.”

You’re shocked at how candid he’s being, and you don’t see a hint of dishonestly in his body language. “Have… have you been drinking?” you question next.

“Just a little,” he admits. “Can I…” Jaehyun looks around the hallway outside. “Can I come in?”

“I should really be going to sleep soon-”

“Yeah, I heard, Mark’s been on your ass,” Jaehyun nods, swallowing, “but uh…” he leans forward, voice lowering, “What’s that pipsqueak going to do about you staying up just a little later? I mean, you can sleep on your flight tomorrow, can’t you?” 

Yeah, Jaehyun is drunk. “Did you just call Mark a pipsqueak?” you ask in shock.

“So what if I did?” He grins lazily. 

“Jae-”

“y/n.”

You sigh. “Come in, sit down, and let me grab you some water.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His smile is much too large for your liking as he enters your hotel room, going to the couch like a good boy. 

You can feel his eyes on you as you get him a bottle of water from the fridge, moving to join him. “Here.”

“Thanks.” He unscrews the cap as you sit down, taking a large gulp.

“So… what’s this about?”

He’s still drinking the water, like a child after a marathon, just drinking and drinking with small stops to gasp for air- you can’t help but laugh a little, watching with amusement.

Jaehyun finishes the entire bottle. “So-” He takes a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?”

“Making you jealous earlier.”

“What?” You’re in shock. “I was not jealous.” 

“You were, and it’s okay.” He places his hand on your knee and you look down at it then up at him questioningly. “I was jealous of you and Haechan back in the day, but the difference is, I wasn’t hitting on Vivienne, I was just trying to be nice to her, you know, as male model of the year and everything.”

“Jae-”

“I wasn’t hitting on her,” he says again, expression turning firm. “You’re my girlfriend and I’d never, ever do that to you.”

“I’m not your girlfriend.”

“Contractually, you are,” Jaehyun insists. “I can be a good boyfriend to you, if you let me try.”

He’s leaning in now, and you grab a pillow, haphazardly shoving it between the two of you so he can kiss that instead.

“Jae!” You hop off of the couch, heart racing.

“Shit, sorry, you’re just- God, have I ever told you that you glow?” Jaehyun looks up at you with an expression you’ve never seen on him, it’s almost like admiration.

“What are you even saying?”

“You glow. You light up the room. You just- you sparkle, even without disco balls and diamonds.”

You wrap your silky night robe tighter around your body, feeling self conscious. “I don’t glow.”

“You do,” he insists. “Even when we were younger. I think- I think part of me always worried your glow would diminish mine, if that makes sense- but, but after seeing some of the footage from the music video, I see that, now that we’re older, when we do stuff together, when we’re not competing, we can glow together.”

So he’s like… very drunk.

But… haven’t you always heard that drunk words are sober thoughts?

You look down at him, and it feels like you’re seeing him in a new light. 

“Jae?” you question.

“Yes?”

“What’s going on?”

“When we kissed that day on set, I felt something.”

“Are you… not used to feeling things?” you ask.

“Not feeling things like that,” Jaehyun corrects. “I mean, butterflies, sparks, you know, corny rom com shit.”

Your stomach flips, heart beginning to beat faster in your chest- so he’d felt the connection too.

“Look, okay, this is going to be embarrassing if you reject me, but, fuck it, I want to get this all off my chest.” Jaehyun takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his silky hair to steady himself. “I like you. I think, a part of me has always liked you, but, I also used to see you as competition. Now that we’re older, now that we’re both successful, I don’t see you that way anymore- and before you think that’s another backhanded compliment, I just mean, you’ve won Grammys. You’re- a fucking star. And I think… maybe I’ve grown to the point where I can accept other people’s successes without seeing it as a diminishment on my own.”

You’re surprised he can speak this well and use big words while clearly feeling the effects of alcohol, and even more than that, you’re surprised by the context of what he’s saying. 

Jeong Jaehyun thinks you’re a star. He recognizes your hard work and your success. He’s not just some smug asshole looking down at you, he’s actually seeing you, and maybe… maybe you’re beginning to see him. 

“I appreciate the compliment of what you’re saying,” you tell him, picking your own words carefully. 

“There’s that PR training,” Jaehyun winks. “You’re cute. Glowy, little, cute, superstar. Maybe that’s what I should call you, my little superstar, the media would eat it up.”

“That’s your PR training,” you laugh. 

“We can’t help it,” he smiles up at you.

“Can I say something without you getting upset?”

“I’ll do my best,” Jaehyun promises solemnly.

“I want to start by saying this isn’t a rejection,” you clarify, “I just wish you would have told me all of this while sober, instead of showing up at my apartment near midnight before we both fly out of town in the morning.”

“I can see that,” Jaehyun nods. “I guess, you kind of scare me.”

“I scare you?” you laugh. 

“Uh huh.” He swallows thickly. “Like heights.”

He’s so adorably dorky for a famous actor and Prada brand ambassador.

“But- on that cliff that day, when we kissed, and you reassured me, and you let me hold your hips- I don’t know, it was nice. I- thanks, thanks for doing that.”

“I can be quite nurturing if I think someone deserves it,” you tell him. “Which, speaking of, you’re still drunk, and you downed that whole bottle of water, I think I should get you another, and maybe we can move somewhere more comfortable.”

“Like.. the bedroom?” There’s a glint in his eye, and it makes you scoff.

“Get your mind out of the gutter Jae, you can stay on this couch for all I care.”

“I’ll be good,” he promises, crossing his heart haphazardly.

“Come on.” You hold your hand out for him and Jaehyun takes it, allowing you to help him to his feet. You go get another bottle of water and the two of you move to the bedroom. The mattress is substantially more comfortable than the couch, and Jaehyun releases an audible moan as he clammers down onto it.

You get situated, moing under the covers so you feel less exposed.

“I like it when you’re nice like this,” Jaehyun sighs.

“I’d be nicer if you didn’t always tease me.”

“You like it when I tease.”

“I actually hated it when you told me not to slip as I was getting onto the horse during the shoot, and it completely made me mess up and slip,” you point out, still irritated by that ordeal.

“Okay, to be fair, yes, I’m sorry, but also, your dress was silky as fuck, you were going to slip even if I didn’t say anything, and that’s not your fault, it’s Jenni’s for not giving you better clothes to actually ride a horse with.”

He has a point there.

“So…” Jaehyun switches topic, his demeanor getting more anxious, “back on the couch, you said you weren’t rejecting me… can you… can you explain what that meant.”

“It meant I’m not rejecting you.”

“And salt of the earth means salt of the earth,” Jaehyun retorts, rolling his eyes. “Can you give me a Mark style explanation on what you meant.”

“I meant…” you think about it for a second. “I like you too, I think you might be more into me than I’m into you at the moment-”

“Oh yeah?” he counters, crossing his arms over his chest and getting pouty.

“Yeah,” you laugh.

“Fine, okay, maybe,” Jaehyun concedes. “But?”

“But… I’m willing to explore something with you.”

“Yeah?” His expression brightens. “Really?”

“We’d just have to sort out details, you know- we’re on contract for three or so months, so, if we gave it a real go, and things ended before our contract, how would that even work? There are limitations to having a relationship with someone you work with.”

Jaehyun looks down at the water bottle in his hands, clearly thinking it through. “We can… take it slow? I mean, we’d have to, since we both have different schedules and will be in different countries tomorrow.”

“Slow could work,” you agree. 

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, and you almost think he’s going to lean in for a kiss again, and then he asks, “What did happen with you and Haechan? Your first single was about him, right?”

You release a laugh, if this is really a can of worms he wants to open, then you suppose you can let him open it.

You begin to explain to him your history with Haechan, and Jaehyun listens intently. Somehow, he gets the ball rolling on your recent relationship with Lee Jeno, and before you know it, two hours have passed with the two of you just discussing past relationships.

Jaehyun tells you about his own ex’s, about his lack of accountability and emotional maturity. He gives voice to all the trouble spots you’ve identified about him in the past, and clarity on his hopes for being better in the future.

He also noticeably sobers up, which makes you feel a lot better about having this sort of intimate conversation with him.

Soon, you’re both just laying in bed facing each other, talking about everything and anything. “Do you remember that time the catering company on set changed?” Jaehyun asks.

“Oh my god, yeah, when the higher ups wanted more vegan and vegetarian options, and it was just like, raw fruit and veggies with store bought hummus?”

“Jaemin wasn’t used to eating anything that wasn’t carbs or meat and in the middle of a take he had to run to the bathroom?” Jaehyun adds.

“Shat his pants and everything, pissed wardrobe off in a way I’ve never seen,” you giggle. “What ever happened to him?”

“I don’t keep up with many of our old castmates,” Jaehyun admits. “But I think he’s some radio show host or something now, has a segment about embarrassing first dates and stuff.”

“He always loved messy gossip,” you sigh, happy to be reminiscing in this way.

There are only a handful of people who can understand what it was like to be on a kids show in your early teens, only a few others in the world you could possibly have this conversation with.

Despite your differences, you and Jaehyun come from the same place, and it makes it easy to talk to him.

Jaehyun’s staring at you, and he pushes a strand of hair out of your face. “Should I let you sleep?” he asks. “It’s two AM.”

You’re hardly tired at this point, and now that Jae’s sober… and in your bed… your own mind has found its way into the gutter, and you’re not quite sure what to do about that.

“Can I be honest with you?” you ask.

“Always.”

“I haven’t gotten laid in a long time,” you sigh. “And… we’re flying to different places tomorrow, so maybe it’s not the best idea I’ve ever had-”

“It is,” Jaehyun interrupts you. “The best idea you’ve ever had.” You shoot him a look and Jaehyun laughs, back tracking. “I mean, your lyrics and albums are great ideas too- but I just mean… If you’re horny, then you’re horny, and I’m, well, here.” 

“I just don’t want you to feel taken advantage of.”

“Even if you’d tried to fuck me when I first walked in here, all drunk and being stupid, it still wouldn’t have been taking advantage of me.”

“I think fucking someone while they’re drunk is one of the most obvious scenarios of taking advantage of someone,” you counter.

“Okay, true, but- you know what I’m saying.” Jaehyun flashes you a knowing look. “If you want me to fuck you, I’ll fuck you.”

“That’s so romantic,” you roll your eyes. 

Jaehyun laughs, and then he sits up, looking down at you. “If you want romance, we can go shower together or something. I could… romantically wash your body, and tell you how perfect you are-”

“It’s two am, fuck that. Just kiss me.”

Jaehyun grins, then he leans over you, staring into your eyes. He’s moving slower than you thought he would, and part of you wishes he’d just ravage you like some primal animal- but no, he’s acting like he did in your music video. You can practically see adoration in his eyes, and his hand comes up to cup your cheek in a way that’s almost loving. 

“I meant it when I said that you glow,” Jaehyun says softly.

“I know you did,” you breathe, grabbing the back of his neck to draw his lips to yours.

It’s odd how familiar the two of you already are. The kiss isn’t awkward at all, but then again, your first kiss hadn’t been either.

Neither of you are trying to dominate it, you’re moving slowly, reading each other’s body language and cues. 

When his tongue gently licks your lip, you open your mouth for him, drawing him closer as the kiss deepens. 

Jaehyun shifts in your embrace, and then he’s moving to be between your legs, which spread for him. He’s on top of you now, elbows digging into the pillows while you make out like teenagers in love for the first time.

He just feels so good. 

For a long time, you’ve felt like an anxious person. You have a lot of weight on your shoulders, but when you’re kissing Jaehyun, that pressure feels lifted. Your mind goes blank as the two of you make out, your body at the forefront instead of your thoughts. 

Jaehyun slowly begins to grind down against you, and the gentle pressure on your clit has you groaning against his lips.

You feel him smirk, and then he begins to kiss down your throat, taking his time to suck gently on your skin.

One of his hands slides up your thigh, teasing the waistband of your sleeping shorts before moving back down again. He’s so warm, and you hips push up for more stimulus.

“Jae-” you whimper, threading your fingers in his hair.

“Slow, or fast?” he asks, pulling away from your throat to look down at you.

“A bit of both.”

He cocks his head to the side.

“Fast to get my clothes off, slow to explore, then make me cum,” you clarify.

Jaehyun laughs. “Whatever you want, superstar.”

Your skin tingles at the nickname, and your pussy throbs as Jaehyun begins to remove his clothes. Each button feels like an eternity to get undone, but when he slips the fabric off, you find yourself practically drooling.

He has such a perfect body, not too lean, not too muscled, just perfect. 

Then, Jaehyun begins to take off your robe and you sit up to help him. Soon, your shirt is being tugged over your head, and your nipples immediately pebble at the cool air of your hotel room.

You lay back down, staring up at him while Jaehyun takes in your body.

“Glowing,” he whispers, cupping your breast and rubbing his thumb across your nipple. 

You whimper at the sensation, and his eyes move up to your face. He’s grinning at you. “Sensitive?” he asks, gently pinching the bud.

You groan, shifting against the bed. “Yeah.”

“I’ll take care of you,” Jaehyun promises, leaning down to kiss you again.

He begins to descend to your throat again, but this time, he goes even farther down, making it to your chest. The first flick of his tongue against your nipple has you whining, and you thread your fingers through his hair again, closing your eyes to enjoy the sensation.

He continues to suck on your breasts, paying attention to both nipples. You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter by the second, and you’re torn between loving the feeling of this and wanting something more.

It’s as if he reads you, because he pulls away from your chest, hooking his fingers in your shorts. You both adjust to allow him to get you fully naked, and then he lays down between your legs. He presses kisses along the sensitive flesh of your thighs, looking up at you.

There’d been a time in your life when you hadn’t loved eye contact during pussy eating, but there’s something so erotic about the way Jaehyun’s watching you as he brings his mouth to your core.

He kisses your clit gently, and you watch as his eyes close, his tongue swiping up your folds to taste the wet that has accumulated there.

He groans, delving deeper with his tongue, his large hands grabbing your thighs as an anchor as he begins to devour you. 

Has anyone ever eaten you out like this? Jeno wasn’t much of a giver unfortunately, and it feels like forever since you’ve had someone doing to you what Jaehyun is currently doing.

Your entire body feels alive, with each flick and suck- You’re clutching at the blankets now, moaning desperately as he works you up faster than any man before him ever has.

You guess you hadn’t put a time limit on making you cum. You’d told him fast to undress, which he did, slow to explore, which he also did- and now, it seems he’s intent on making you cum on his tongue, which is something you have no issues with.

“Jae-” you whimper, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair.

He looks up at you and you begin to move your hips, riding his face. He stays still, letting you use him, and you can tell from the groan he releases that he kind of likes you taking control in this way.

“I’m close,” you tell him. “Please make me cum.”

Jaehyun’s fingers dig into your thighs, and then he’s back at it. He takes lead again, sucking your clit into his mouth while you cry out and grab the sheets with your free hand.

Your eyes close, your back arching a little as he works you closer and closer to the edge.

It’s a steady build of pleasure, and then, you’re tipping over. You release a strangled gasp as ecstasy courses through you like electric shocks from the tip of your head down to your toes and fingers.

You can feel your pussy contracting with pleasure, a steady rhythm that prolongs the sensation. Jaehyun continues to suck on your clit, helping you through everything until you’re a gasping mess.

He relents, and you can hear him sit up. Your eyes are still closed, one hand now haphazardly thrown across your eyes as you try to catch your breath.

The sound of Jaehyun’s pants hitting the floor draws your attention, and you look up to find Jaehyun standing there in all his glory.

“Still want to do this?” he asks.

“Get over here,” you command, opening your arms for him.

Jaehyun flashes you a grin, then he rejoins you on the bed.

Your lips are meeting a moment later. It’s not a gentle slow exploration anymore, but a hungry, lust fuelled haze. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it turns you even more. You wrap your legs around his hips, tugging him closer.

His cock rubs between your pussy lips and you whimper, reaching between yourselves to line him up- Jaehyun takes your hand, moving it aside. Then, two fingers enter your soaked core and you groan against his lips.

“Gotta prep you,” Jaehyun muses. “You said you haven’t been fucked in a while.” 

“Don’t tease though,” you warn gently, looking up at him.

“Never.” He kisses you again, drowning out the anxious thoughts as he finger fucks you, spreading his fingers and working you open in preparation for his cock.

Jaehyun begins to curl his digits, hitting the sensitive spot inside of you that has you groaning. You break the kiss to burrow your face against his throat, panting as he draws more and more pleasure out of your already exhausted body.

You feel something drip on your upper thigh, and you look down to see the precum leaking out of Jaehyun’s tip. “Sorry,” he groans, “I’m just, super turned on right now.”

“Then fuck me,” you insist, biting at his earlobe. “I’m prepped now.”

“You sure?”

“We’re both dripping, Jae, just fuck me.”

“You got it, superstar.” Jaehyun grins as he kisses you. He finger fucks you a little more and then he pulls his digits out of your wet core. You watch him sit up, licking his fingers clean, then he grabs the base of his cock.

He presses the tip into you, looking up to watch your reaction. When you release a moan, Jaehyun grins. He steadies over you again, his biceps bulging as his lips meet your own. He pushes deeper inside of you, taking it slow until his hips are flush against yours.

You both groan at the feeling.

“See?” you gasp. “Told you I could take you.”

“Taking me so well,” Jaehyun agrees, his breath hot against your throat as he begins to pepper your skin with kisses.

Jaehyun’s hips start to move, and he fucks you gently at first, allowing your inner walls to get used to the size of him. His kisses distract you as he opens you up, his pace increasing.

You release a loud moan when the tip of his cock hits a deep spot inside of you, and you can feel Jaehyun grin against your throat. “Right there?” he asks, doing the motion again. “Is that the place?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, nodding. “Right there.”

Jaehyun brings his lips to your own, and he kisses you deeply as he continues to abuse that special spot. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, keeping him close as he fucks you. God, you’re so lost in him, in the best possible way.

You never miss out on beauty sleep, but Jaehyun is more than worth it.

“Superstar?”

“Yeah?” you ask, half delirious.

“Would it be bad if I asked you to ride me?” 

“Huh?”

“I just- I could still fuck up into you, but I don’t know, I kind of want to see you on top.”

“Really?” you look up at him in shock. “You strike me as a man who likes to have control.”

“Says the woman who likes to have control,” he counters with a grin. “Or… do you just want to be my pillow princess?”

You consider it for a moment. “You know what, yeah, let me get on top, I want to watch you when you cum.”

Jaehyun physically shivers from your words, and you watch his pupils dilate with interest. “Fuck,” he groans. “Yeah, get on top.”

It’s a quick adjustment, with Jaehyun dragging you onto his lap. You sit down on his cock and both of you groan at the feeling. He’s completely inside of you like this, and you press your hands to his chest, steadying yourself for a moment.

Then, you begin to bounce.

Jaehyun throws his head back against the pillows, moaning deeply.

Fuck, he’s so hot like this.

There’s something so erotic about being on top, on knowing that you’re going to be riding him when he cums.

Your whole relationship has been about competing for power, and now, in the midst of one of the most vulnerable exchanges of power, Jaehyun had stopped from his position on top to give you the opportunity to be in control.

You like that. You like it a lot. 

It shows he hadn’t been lying when he’d talked about the two of you glowing together, and it gives you a newfound kind of hope for whatever relationship is budding between the two of you.

You ride him harder at the thought, and his hands find your hips, helping you bounce.

“Fuck, fuck-�� Jaehyun groans, his fingers digging into your skin. “Feels so good.”

In all honesty, the first position had felt better for you, when he was doing all the work, but you’d never admit that to him, especially not while deep in the throes of passion like this. He’d already made you cum, and now, you want to return the favour.

You ignore the burning in your thighs, fucking Jaehyun in a way you’ve never fucked a man before. You can feel the power of it bubbling inside of you, and you focus on his expression, on the pleasure that’s written all over him.

“Jae,” you groan, “want you to cum for me.”

“Don’t-” he swallows thickly. “Don’t you want me to hold out a little longer?”

“It’s our first time, we have flights tomorrow,” you retort. “Just let go, I wanna feel it.”

“You and your scheduling,” Jaehyun laughs, but it quickly turns into a groan, his eyes closing again. “Fuck, okay, but you have to let me make it up to you sometime.”

“Next time we see each other we can spend hours fucking,” you tell him.

“Promise?”

“I promise, now be good and cum for me, yeah?”

Jaehyun shivers again, and there’s a slight look of confusion on his face. You get the sense that he’s not used to being talked down to like this- but it’s clear it turns him on in a new, foreign sort of way.

“Okay, yeah.” Jaehyun anchors himself against the bed, and then he begins fucking up into you, his muscles rippling under his perfect skin. “Shit, fuck-”

You watch the pleasure build in him, until he reaches his peak. The tension clearly snaps, and he lets out a deep groan that goes straight to your core.

You continue to ride him, intent on helping him through it-

Jaehyun grabs you and pulls you down to his chest, holding you still as he shoots his load deep in your pussy. He’s groaning in your ear, hips twitching-

God, you love the way you’re pinned like this, the way he’s cumming so hard he needed you to just stop. 

You allow him to finish, and his grip slowly lets up on you. He’s no longer using his strength to keep you still, he’s just holding you, the two of you panting desperately.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah,” you mumble.

“That day, behind my trailer, the first time I held you,” Jaehyun clears his throat, “could you feel my heart racing the way it is now?”

“I was more focused on my own heart,” you admit.

“Yeah?”

“It was going pretty fast.”

Jaehyun releases a laugh, holding you tighter. “Guess we were both in for it, huh?”

“Guess so.” 

Jaehyun holds you a little while longer, and then he sighs. “I should let you get your beauty sleep.”

“Yeah, but you can stay over if you want.”

“Really?”

“Could you imagine how much people would react if the paparazzi got a picture of you leaving my hotel tomorrow morning?”

Another chuckle escapes him. “You and your PR training.”

“You love it,” you insist.

Jaehyun releases a sigh, burying his face closer to your throat. “I do love it.” 

You’re from the same world, the same industry, and no one has ever understood you or your job the way Jaehyun does.

Wrapped in his arms, the two of you set to fly to different countries in just a couple of hours, something about him just feels so right.

You’ve spent your whole life trying to be someone else for other people, for your management team, for your fans- but with Jaehyun, maybe you can just be exactly who you are, professional obligations and all.

He’d said it himself, he’d seen your glow from the moment you met, even as awkward kids on a tv show trying to make names for yourself. He’d seen your sparkle before you’d even seen it in yourself, and now, maybe he’s right. Maybe you can learn to glow together.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I kind of loved working on this au, I know it's not classical 'he's an actual cowboy' but I really loved working with Jae as this character

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. You’ve been in love before, but it was always different. You were always with men who saw you as a prize. They put you on a pedestal, and it was often one sided with genuine empathy. You were a support in their lives, as opposed to a form of mutual understanding.But Jaehyun understands you, so you can confidently say he’s the sweetest love you’ve had.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, worship kink, substantial foreplay/prep, fingering, squirting, multiple reader orgasms, overstim, dirty talk, praise, man handling, anal (thumb in the butt), etc…   I petnames. (hers) superstar. 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.4k I teaser wc. 180

🌙 starring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

bonus

“Wow,” you breathe, staring out at the crowd as you clutch the Grammy in your hand. “I can honestly say, I never expected this award. To win Best Music Video, I just- I’m in shock. I want to thank my parents, my label, my team of wonderful people, production, styling, Hwasa, who directed the video, and Mark, my manager. I want to thank my fans especially, I wouldn’t be anywhere without you. And, I also want to thank my amazing scene partner, Jaehyun. I know a lot of people were confused about Jae being the Model Cowboy, but he showed up to set, and something just clicked. We made magic with this one, and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Thanks again, wow, thanks.” 

You’re practically shaking as you make your way off the stage to go rejoin your group of people in the audience. Hwasa and Mark both give you a hug, and Johnny pats you on the back. When you reach Jaehyun, he wraps his arms around you, holding you tight as he presses kisses along your face.

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.4k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list

general taglist

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae 

@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @vantxx95 - @bangshii

@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven

@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf

@chogiwapadada - @librarian-stacks - @meowniee

@learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy

@mocha000 - @darthlunaa​ - @just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono

@lovelyhan - @grilledbananas - @sourkimchi

svt taglist

@candidupped - @cheolussy - @aaniag - @imprettyweird

@xcynthiaaa

thanks to those who interacted with the teaser! 37

@lostmembrane - @tarap97 - @jaeymark - @mingcouper

@va1entinesday - @froggyforhyuck - @bobathi - @btsreadss

@ever1astinglove - @amazinggraxia - @sunflowerhc - @hqech

[rafecameronssl4t]

The Swell || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: S4 ep 4 scene but it’s Sofia’s perspective + abit more angst but still reader x Rafe no use of her name

Warnings: angst!!!!! Mention of dead baby turtles (?), Ruthie (yeh she deserves her own tw),

Word counts: 2,267

A/n: how could I not post on our my man’s bday 😣😔

MASTERLIST

Divider by @h-aewo

As you drive down the beach, the Pogues come into view, their carefree laughter and familiar presence tightening the knot of unease in your stomach. You glance at Rafe, silently hoping the car won’t stop near them, your thoughts spinning in quiet desperation. But when Topper's Jeep slows down and pulls to a halt right next to them, you shut your eyes for a brief moment, taking a sharp breath through your nose to steady yourself.

Rafe, ever attuned to your mood, notices the shift and squeezes your thigh, his touch firm and reassuring. “It’s fine,” he mutters, his voice low and confident, though the tension remains. You look down at his hand resting on your leg, a gesture that says more than words ever could. Rafe helps you down from Topper’s ridiculously raised Jeep, his grip steady as you hop down onto the sand.

The sun beats down, casting long shadows as you take in the scene around you—Topper and John B already in conversation, their words tinged with the familiar undercurrent of rivalry. The air feels thick, charged with a subtle tension that lingers in every glance exchanged between them.

You go through the motions, helping set up blankets and gear, though your attention keeps drifting back to Rafe. He’s sitting a few feet away, legs stretched out in front of him, gaze fixed on the surfers gliding across the water. His sunglasses hide most of his expression, but you can tell he’s watching intently, his mind elsewhere.

When you finally make your way over, he turns his head slightly, reaching for a towel and placing it beside him without a word. You settle down next to him, the sand beneath the towel still warm from the sun, and you let out a small sigh. "Hey, Rafe," you say softly, your voice almost drowned out by the sound of the waves crashing in the distance.

Your gaze shifts to Sarah, longboard in hand as she walks out of the water, her eyes locked on her brother. A light smile tugs at your lips as you watch her, the hope in you flickering. "There’s Sarah," you continue, trying to sound upbeat. "Do you think she’d want to talk?" Rafe doesn’t respond right away. His eyes stay focused on the horizon, his expression unreadable.

After a beat, he finally looks towards Sarah, their eyes meeting across the sand. The moment stretches out, thick with everything they’re not saying. "No," Rafe says flatly, shaking his head. "She can come to me if she wants." His voice lacks emotion, as if he’s already resigned to the distance between them. He lifts his beer, taking a slow drink, his nonchalance masking something deeper. You nod in response, sighing softly.

You tried, but it’s not enough. It never seems to be enough. The next few minutes pass in quiet observation. You watch the surfers, your gaze following JJ and Topper as they glide across the water, their competitive nature apparent even in something as simple as catching a wave. JJ, always the wild card, edges too close to Topper and bumps him, sending Topper tumbling into the surf.

Rafe shifts beside you, sitting up a little straighter. "Hey! Blatant poach, man!" he calls out, his voice carrying over the beach, and you can’t help but smile. There’s something almost boyish in the way he yells, a rare glimpse of lightness in an otherwise heavy day. Your momentary smile fades when Ruthie’s piercing voice cuts through the air.

"What the hell was that?!" she shouts, her tone laced with irritation. You roll your eyes instinctively, already feeling the familiar annoyance settle in. Ruthie. She’s always been a thorn in your side, and she knows it. She thrives on it, always pushing just enough to get under your skin, but never enough to cross any real lines—at least not with Rafe around. She wasn’t stupid—she knew better than to challenge his authority, even though she could get away with nearly everything else.

JJ, still in the water, celebrates his small victory with a cocky grin, looking over at you both. Rafe’s response is swift, flipping him the middle finger without even blinking. JJ shrugs it off, giving a sheepish smile, and you laugh softly, shaking your head at the playful exchange. "I don’t know what JJ’s deal was," Kelce chimes in as he and Topper make their way back to the shade.

"That was bullshit, jumping in on you like that." His tone is casual, but there’s a slight edge to it, the kind that always lingers when someone feels disrespected. "Classic low-rent move," Topper agrees, brushing sand from his hair. Rafe’s snarky grin returns as he helps you up from the sand. "Surf violence is violence, man," he comments dryly, earning a chuckle from the group. But before the mood can lighten, the unmistakable sound of an engine revving catches your attention.

You glance over, spotting Ruthie now in the driver’s seat of Topper’s Jeep, her expression smug as she glances towards the Pogues. "Instead of whining about it," Ruthie cocks her head in their direction, a dangerous gleam in her eyes, "let’s drift. Give them a taste of their own medicine." Topper immediately shakes his head. "No, no. We’re not doing that," he says, his voice firm but calm. For all his bravado, Topper is often the most level-headed among them, the one willing to walk away from unnecessary drama.

You breathe out a quiet sigh of relief, hoping the situation will diffuse. Ruthie, however, isn’t backing down. "Are you afraid?" she taunts, her tone condescending as she stares him down, tilting her head with a smirk. "I told them we’re gonna be cool," Topper says, shooting a glance at Kelce, as if looking for backup. "Yeah, but they jumped in on you, bro," Kelce replies, still riled up from the earlier incident. "They stomped all over our home base."

"Never knew you kooks owned the beach," you mutter under your breath, loud enough for Rafe to hear. He chuckles softly, glancing at you with an amused look. Ruthie, undeterred, turns her attention back to Kelce, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "That doesn’t seem fair, does it? Are you cool with that, Kelce? It’s kind of sad, bro." "Pathetic," Ruthie adds, and a few others let out chuckles, their laughter only adding fuel to the tension.

Topper’s face tightens, his expression darkening as the tension between him and Ruthie reaches its peak. "What’d you say?" he snaps, his tone sharp with frustration, eyes narrowing at her. He’s clearly fed up with her antics, embarrassed as she goads him in front of their friends. The heated argument escalates quickly, Ruthie's biting comments cutting through the air like knives. Topper, red-faced and tense, tries to rein her in, but Ruthie only digs in further, her smirk never fading.

You lean into Rafe, resting your head against his broad back, arms loosely wrapped around his torso for comfort as you watch the scene unfold. It was horrifying but impossible to look away from. Ruthie, always the instigator, keeps pushing, her voice rising above the murmur of waves and laughter. She’s relentless, her eyes gleaming with reckless energy.

"Well, I’m about to buzz down there and show them whose beach this is," she declares, the wild determination in her tone sending a ripple of unease through the group. "You gonna make me go by myself?" You lift your head, casting a glance at Rafe, silently asking him to do something, anything. His eyes flicker with annoyance, but he doesn’t intervene, his usual detached demeanour firmly in place.

Topper, as much as he tries to keep some semblance of control, eventually gives in, rounding the Jeep and sliding into the passenger seat with a defeated huff. The sound of the engine revving cuts through the beach as they prepare for another display of immaturity. "This is ridiculous," you mutter under your breath, crossing your arms over your chest as you watch them speed off. Sand flies up behind the tires, scattering across the shoreline.

Rafe shrugs beside you, seemingly unbothered, his voice calm but clipped. "She’s just being Ruthie." "That’s not an excuse," you retort, sharper than you intended. "Is she fucking insane?" Your words are laced with disbelief as you scoff, eyes narrowing as the Jeep swerves wildly down the beach. Ruthie, clearly drunk on adrenaline, comes dangerously close to losing control.

You hold your breath as she veers sharply, missing the Pogues by mere inches. Your heart races in your chest, the tension in the air palpable. Rafe watches in silence, tipping his head back and taking a long swig from his beer, the bottle tilted lazily in his hand as if none of it phases him. You, on the other hand, can’t tear your eyes away from the scene. "Jesus Christ…" you mutter under your breath, jaw slack in shock. Suddenly, a splash of liquid flies through the air, dousing Kiara.

You watch as she recoils, visibly shocked and angry, while the Pogues gather around her, already shouting in response. The kooks around you jeer and laugh, their obnoxious behaviour only adding fuel to the fire. You roll your eyes, disgusted by the immaturity that surrounds you. How could they find this funny? Your gaze shifts back to Rafe, searching his face for any hint of how he’s feeling, but his expression remains unreadable.

His jaw tightens ever so slightly as he scratches his head, eyes flicking back and forth between the Jeep and the chaos Ruthie has left in her wake. Frustration bubbles in your chest — was he angry? Amused? He was impossible to read, and that drove you mad. You couldn’t stand his indifference, not when things had spiraled out of control. "You good with that?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but the irritation seeps through as you turn to face him, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

He doesn't respond immediately, which only adds fuel to the fire. His silence grates on you. Then, after Kiara and JJ confront Ruthie and she threatens to press charges over some meaningless provocation, your patience wears thin. You’ve had enough of the childish antics, the toxic energy swirling around the beach. It was exhausting, and you wanted nothing more than to leave.

"Not cool, Rafe," you say, your voice wavering with disappointment. There’s an ache in your chest, a familiar one that resurfaces whenever you feel let down by him. You want him to see how wrong all of this is, but instead, he shrugs and brushes past you, his focus only on grabbing another beer. His casual indifference feels like a slap in the face. "They deserved it, baby," he mutters as he opens the cooler.

His words make your blood boil. Deserved it? You can’t believe him. It’s like the two of you are on completely different wavelengths, and the divide between you feels wider than ever. Spinning around, you glare at him, anger and hurt flooding your system. "I want to leave," you say, voice firm, holding his gaze as he turns to look at you, his eyes narrowing in challenge.

"Now!" you insist, your frustration bubbling over, leaving no room for negotiation. You’re done with the day, with the drama, with everything. Without waiting for his response, you turn on your heel and start walking away, the sound of the waves crashing behind you drowned out by the pounding in your chest. You can feel his eyes on your back, the tension hanging thick in the air, but you don’t stop.

“Babe, hold on,” Rafe calls after you, his voice almost pleading, but you don’t slow down. You grab your beach bag, throwing it over your shoulder with more force than necessary, eyes fixed ahead. You refuse to let him see how upset you really are, not in front of Ruthie and Topper. Especially not when Ruthie’s wearing that smug smile, clearly enjoying the chaos she’s stirred up.

Your jaw clenches as you storm past them, feeling the weight of their judgment. Rafe’s footsteps grow louder behind you, his longer stride quickly closing the distance. "Just calm down," he mutters as he reaches out, his hand catching your elbow in an attempt to stop you. The touch is gentle, but it ignites the anger bubbling beneath the surface, and you immediately yank your arm away, shoving his hand off with a sharp motion.

He steps in front of you, blocking your path, his brows furrowing as he tries to read your expression. "That wasn’t fair, Rafe," you say quietly, your voice cutting through the space between you both. The frustration, disappointment, and anger you’ve been holding in all day spill over. "You saw what Ruthie did! How can you just stand there and act like it’s fine?" Your words come out sharper than you intended, but you’re past caring.

You need him to understand, to see how wrong it all is. Rafe’s lips press into a thin line, his gaze shifting momentarily to the ground before meeting yours again. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe—but it’s quickly replaced by defensiveness. "She’s Topper’s girlfriend," he snaps, his voice low and tight. "What do you want me to do? I can’t control what she does or doesn’t do."

You let out a bitter laugh, stepping back and shaking your head in disbelief. "So what? You’d rather watch her humiliate people instead? Watch her throw stuff at Kie like a child? Drive over those baby turtles?" Your voice rises, sharp and raw. "That’s what you’re okay with?" His jaw tightens as he scratches his head, avoiding your gaze. "It wasn’t that big of a deal," he mutters, but there’s something in the way he says it—a hint of guilt that he’s trying to bury under his indifference.

"Not that big of a deal?" You repeat, your voice thick with disbelief. "You know what she did was wrong, Rafe. I know you do. You just stood there and didn’t do a fucking thing." He sighs, frustrated, running a hand through his hair. "You could’ve stood up for Kie, for anyone. But instead, you just stood there and let Ruthie act like a total psycho, and now you’re defending it?"

Rafe’s face hardens, but you can see the flicker of guilt in his eyes, the way his gaze shifts uncomfortably. He knows. He knows what Ruthie did was messed up, and it infuriates you even more that he won’t admit it, that he’s hiding behind the excuse of not wanting to cause drama with Topper. "It wasn’t worth starting a fight over," he says, his voice tight, as if he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

You throw your hands up, exasperated. "It’s not about starting a fight! It’s about doing the right thing! You just stood there, Rafe. You watched it happen, and you knew it was wrong, and you still did nothing!" His eyes flash with irritation, but underneath it, you can see the guilt he’s trying to bury. "Why are you making this about me?" he snaps, his voice defensive. "I didn’t tell her to do anything. It’s not my fault."

"No, but you watched it happen, and that’s just as bad!" Your voice cracks slightly, the frustration and hurt blending together. "You know Ruthie crossed a line. If it had been anyone else, you wouldn’t have let it slide, but because it’s her, and because it’s Topper, you’re acting like it’s no big deal." Rafe clenches his jaw, his frustration evident, but there’s something more in his eyes now—regret, maybe.

He’s not used to being called out like this, not used to being the one who’s wrong. "What do you want me to say?" he mutters, his voice lower, less confident. "It’s not like I could’ve stopped her." Your heart races, and you shoot back, your voice steady but laced with heat. "You chose to stay silent, and that says more than any half-hearted excuse you could come up with. It's pathetic!”

As you confront him, he steps closer, a tangible tension crackling between you. His voice turns low and icy. "Watch it." The warning hangs in the air, but you refuse to back down. He exhales sharply, running both hands through his hair, a gesture of agitation that betrays the storm of emotions brewing inside him. "I don't want to fight with you over something like this," he insists, the frustration lacing his tone, making it tremble with barely contained irritation.

"It’s not worth it." You stare at him, incredulous, your heart racing as the anger you felt moments ago begins to dissolve, replaced by a deeper, simmering disappointment that settles heavily in your chest. It’s a familiar ache, one that stirs memories of past arguments where the same sentiments echoed in different words. "Not worth it?" you echo, your voice soft but laced with hurt. Your words hang in the air, and for a moment, you search his eyes, hoping to find a flicker of understanding.

But he doesn’t respond, his gaze dropping to the sand beneath his feet, as if the grains can offer him some comfort. You see a flicker of doubt cross his features, and for an instant, you think he might actually admit it—might actually acknowledge the truth you’ve laid bare. But instead, he shrugs, a small, helpless gesture that only deepens the ache in your chest. It’s as if he’s trying to dismiss the weight of the situation, but it only leaves you feeling more isolated.

"That’s all you can say?" you press, hurt and disappointment lacing your tone again. "I don’t know what you want from me." "I want you to care," you say, your voice quieter now, the fight slowly draining out of you. "I want you to care enough to stand up for what’s right, not just for what’s easy. But I guess that’s too much to ask."

Rafe’s face flickers, something like guilt or frustration passing over his features, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, jaw clenched, the space between you filled with everything he won’t say. You shake your head, the disappointment settling in like a weight in your chest

[englishisaboutconfidence]

Jealousy, I Know your Name

"Ahyeon, Ahyeon, Ahyeon!" Snapping out of her trance, Ahyeon finally turned to the person trying to get her attention.

"You've been distracted all day. What has your brain all tied up?"

"Nothing Ruka Unnie"

"Are you sure Ahyeon? It seems that ever since we met the new employees, you've been somewhere else".

"Sorry, just a lot on my mind with the project deadline coming up."

"Hmmm, normally I would accept that except for some crazy reason, your eyes keep drifting in a certain direction…"

Trying to act not nonchalant, Ahyeon responded "I have no clue what you're talking about Unnie".

"Are you sure Ahyeon? Because it seems that every time, we get a new coworker who happens to be a woman our age, your mind seems to wander somewhere else and your eyes seem to magically keep an eye on a certain someone…"

Accepting that lunch in the work cafeteria wasn't the right place to have this conversation, Ruka accepted her answer. "We don't have to talk about this now, but we are going to talk about this tonight when we get drinks Ahyeon".

"Fine Unnie"

--- A few hours later ---

"So Ahyeon, are you going to finally tell me the truth because we both know that I know you better than anyone else. We have been friends for almost a decade"

Knocking back a shot of shot, Ahyeon sighed and started to answer: "Okay okay, I guess its been long enough that officially telling you won't be the worst thing in the world. Yes, I was thinking about Y/N… and maybe making sure that he wasn't getting too friendly with any of the new hires…"

Ruka responded with a simple raise of her eyebrows and a tilt of her head.

"… Yes like I always do. IDK, I just don't like when new hires get too friendly with Y/N too early. While he has a bit of a killer instinct when it comes to his coworkers and upward momentum in the work place, he is also Y/N. I still see him as the sweet, cute, nerdy guy I met in the middle school. I know he can handle male coworkers who want to snake him; but when it comes to girls our age, he can be too kind for his own good and I want to make sure that non of these skanks take advantage of him".

Hearing Ahyeon call their female coworkers caused Ruka to smirk, but Ahyeon didn't notice as she was too engrossed in her little tirade.

"I mean come on, remember Sullyoon,I mean all she did was touch his arm a little bit and flutter her lashes, and suddenly he was helping her whenever she asked. Don't even get me started on that bitch Julie, I mean how much sluttier can you dress. We are professionals and she wears the tightest skirts possible and the lowest hanging tops that whenever she just so happens to lean over my Y/N's desk, her tits are nearly falling out."

Hearing this, Ruka started to giggle.

"Don't start Unnie. You are nearly as bad. I mean you know how I feel and yet you constantly are talking to Y/N at his desk and while walking to meetings".

Sensing the change in Ahyeon, Ruka decided to cut off Ahyeon before she said something she might regret.

"Ahyeon, relax. I know how you feel about Y/N, but you need to remember that I am his sunbae just like I am yours and I have known him just as long as you have."

"Sorry Unnie, I know, I just get so worked up about Y/N and I don't know why"

"Well it doesn't help that you've been in love with him since you two were in the 8th grade. Plus you went to middle school together then high school then college and now work together… and you still haven't confessed…"

"He's supposed to! He's the guy Unnie!"

"Ahyeon, you've liked him for over a decade, I think this is equally if not more on you. You also haven't done anything to make it obvious to him and you know Y/N is completely oblivious to anything when it comes to romance. He's only dated 1 girl and that was barely for 3 months when he has been liked by multiple girls between 7th grade and now…"

Staring at Ahyeon, Ruka continued "Oh wait, I forgot something seemed to happen anytime a girl showed any interest in Y/N. Any interest was suddenly dropped. It was almost like someone either scared them off or made sure that every girl knew that Y/N was taken".

Ahyeon simple crossed her arms and muttered "It's not my fault that those girls needed to know that he's mine."

Raising her voice, "They don't understand him like I do and they would've broken up eventually too. Y/N is too in love with me to date anyone long term".

Sighing, Ruka responded to her delusional but well meaning junior "you two are somehow a combination of infuriating, delusional, and the cutest couple ever. Sometimes I regret telling you that Y/N has had a crush on you since the 7th grade as well."

Hearing the word couple, instantly brought a smile to Ahyeon's face. Seeing this, Ruka just sighed and said "God, you and Y/N are the worst. We should probably get going, it's already 10pm and we have a long day tomorrow."

---- The Next Day ---

Walking into the cafeteria, Ruka looks around for Ahyeon so they could sit together and instead she found someone who looked like they were planning a murder.

Approaching her junior, Ruka cleared her throat to try to get Ahyeon's attention before finally speaking "I don't think you are supposed to just stab the salad."

"It's better I stab this salad than that bitch Sian. God she's such a pick me. 'Oh Y/N could you help me print this doc. Oh Y/N you're so good at excel. Oh Y/N you're such a kind and caring sunbae'. Such a phony bitch. I had to sit there grinding away on our project while that whore practically offered herself as a public fuck toy for my Y/N."

Sighing, Ruka tried to calm down her junior "Ahyeon. I love you but I am sure you're overreacting."

"Unnie, I know I normally do; but trust me, this is different. You'll see tonight at the team dinner. That bitch is practically throwing herself at Y/N thinking that she will be able to get him to do all her work and the worst part is that it'll probably work."

"Well if she starts giving him her work or asks for too much help, I'll step in as team lead and make sure she asks someone else for help or does it herself if it's within her abilities".

"Thanks Unnie; but Sian gets too friendly tonight, I have to take things into my own hands"

Hearing this, Ruka just shook her head; but secretly, she hoped that Sian would flirt with Y/N because this decade of mutual pining has taken a toll on her.

--- A few hours and a few drinks later ---

The team had been dropped off by a couple of the companies vans earlier that night and the drinks had started flowing the second they stepped into the restaurant for the monthly team dinner. Most of the team would indulge in a few drinks at these dinners, but the younger employees always seemed to find a way to elevate the celebration to a point where it was almost an HR hazard to keep having them. The team would naturally split into the respective age/hire groups with the older team members huddling together spectating their younger colleagues while the newer and newest hires would often rope in the 2-3 year tenured employees into joining them in indulging in as many free drinks as possible. Each of the new hires had seemingly grabbed a slightly older sunbae to cling on to throughout the night and Sian had decided that Y/N was hers for the night. Ever since they had clocked out, Sian had been inseparable from Y/N. She literally grabbed hold of him on the way out of the building and had not let go of him since. Ahyeon of course instantly noticed this but had done a remarkable job of holding herself back; but that resolve was quickly fading. Ruka could practically see the steam coming out of Ahyeon's ears and decided that it was best for the team (while also being a wing woman for her best friend) to distract Sian for a bit. Walking up to Sian and Y/N, Ruka could see the mixture of happiness and also pure terror in Y/N's eyes from the proximity and amount of physical touch he was having with Sian. "Sian, come chat with me and Asa, we want to hear more about you outside of work. You can hang out with boring old Y/N anytime." "Okay Sunbae, bye Y/N" Sian said before giving a quick peck to Y/N's cheek and following Ruka to talk with Asa.

Giving a sigh of relief after finally getting some separation from your good meaning but clingy junior, you looked around to see what everyone else was doing. You saw your sunbaes gathered as far as possible from you and your fellow young coworkers. Your sunbaes always loved to chat amongst themselves while also spectating their drunk juniors. You also saw a few other teams who had also decided to come here for their monthly team dinner. Finally, your eyes landed on the girl who had lived rent free in your head for almost if not over a decade long, Jung Ahyeon.

She was your middle school, high school, college, and now work crush. You two had first met when you transferred into her middle school in 7th grade and had been smitten ever since. She was the class president so she gave you the tour of their building; but you had to keep asking her simple questions because you couldn't focus due to her beauty and charisma. That crush had stuck with you throughout their schooling and had even intensified when they got to college. Being the beauty and kind hearted person she was, Ahyeon had dozens of guys who were interested and her and all of them were far better than you, so you had never even thought about actually asking her out. Throughout the years, your friends had asked you who he were interested in or who your dream girl was and the answer was always Ahyeon. One night during your Junior year of college, Ruka, who was a year older than you and Ahyeon and who you had also known for a decade, asked you who you were interested in. Being a little more than tipsy, you answered her truthfully and said Ahyeon. Ruka asked why and you started going into detail about how beautiful, kind, etc. Ahyeon was and after 15 minutes of you showing how you had been practically obsessing over Ahyeon, Ruka finally laughed and told you to shut up. The next day, you had woken up in a panic and called Ruka to beg her to not tell Ahyeon about any of what you had said. Ruka told you not to worry about it and after a few days of treading lightly whenever you saw Ahyeon or Ruka, you were finally able to start acting normal again, trusting that Ruka hadn't told Ahyeon about your embarrassing and somewhat obsessive confession.

That was four years ago now. After graduating college, you and Ahyeon had actually joined the same company and team as Ruka. Being the only 2 new hires for that year in the team, you two had gotten closer while still not being super close. You had gone from people who go to school together to close work colleagues or even potentially work friends, although your relationship still hadn't moved past talking in the office or hanging out with each other at work events; but when your eyes landed on her after finally getting some space from Sian, you could tell something was wrong… mostly because it looked like Ahyeon was trying to melt a hole through you. Confused as to what you did wrong, you started to wrack your brain for any fuck ups you had at work that day or if you had taken any of the meat Ahyeon liked while eating dinner; but you couldn't for the life of you figure it out. Suddenly Ahyeon started marching at you like someone ready to start a fight. You were then grabbed by your t-shirt and roughly pulled into the hallway then supply closet of the restaurant.

"Ahyeon, I don't think we are supposed to be in here"

"I don't care Y/N. What the fuck is up with you and little miss princess Sian?"

"Uh, nothing? She's just a coworker."

"Really? Then why has she been holding onto you like a life craft and why are you practically doing her job for her?"

"Woah woah woah Ahyeon. She's just new and hasn't gotten close to anyone. She asked me a question yesterday and after helping her out, she has just had me as her go to person."

"Are you sure its not because you're fucking her? Are you seriously already fucking her? God, why do you fall for the eye fluttering and flirty touches of every woman who works with us. You are such a spineless coward. Falling for anyone who shows you any attention. You know what, screw you Y/N. I can't believe I've been in love with you all these years"

Looking shell shocked, you just stared at your crush of over a decade.

"What Y/N? Too scared to confess that you've been fucking the new hire. She's practically a fetus. Still fresh out of college. She hasn't even been out of school for 6 months".

Not hearing a word she said, you just stared at her like an idiot and said "You're in love with me?"

Clearly annoyed at you, Ahyeon stared at you dumbfounded "Is that seriously all you heard Y/N? Or are you just playing dumb?"

Still not hearing a word she said, you just repeated "You're in love with me?"

Practically ready to blow, Ahyeon spat at you "No, I WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU. I thought you were cute when I gave you that tour in 7th grade and the more I saw you and got to know you throughout the years, that infatuation turned into love; but now it's gone because you can't keep your dick in your pants and you are a pathetic simp".

Not hearing half of what she said, you just looked at Ahyeon and were completely captivated by her beauty. Not sure whether it was the soju or a sudden surge in confidence, you, not thinking, softly raised your hand to her face to cup it. Stunned by your sudden touch, Ahyeon paused her tirade and looked like she was short circuiting. Still moving without an ounce of thought, you moved your other hand to her waist and brought her close before capturing her lips with yours. After breaking out of her stupor, Ahyeon pulled you even closer and responded to your kiss tenfold. Needing to break for air, you and Ahyeon finally separated after what felt like eternity. Still holding her by the waist, you gazed lovingly into Ahyeon's eyes before saying "I love you". Hearing that caused Ahyeon to blush and she started to pull away, but you weren't about to fuck up this opportunity of a life time. Pulling her flush against you, you raised her face so her eyes met yours and said it again "I love you Ahyeon". Seeing your sincerity and the love behind your eyes, Ahyeon took a second before responding "You're an asshole". Confused you loosened your grip on her, sensing this, Ahyeon grabbed your face and smashed her lips against yours again. Stunned, you barely were able to reciprocate before she broke away again. Grabbing your hand, she led you out of the supply closet, through the hallway, past your team, and out of the restaurant.

Still not saying a word to you, but muttering to herself, Ahyeon continued to lead you by the hand through the streets of Seoul before finally coming to an apartment building which she scanned in and led you through the lobby and into one of the elevators. Once the doors closed, Ahyeon was on you like a lion. Pushing you against one of the walls, she practically mounted you while capturing your lips with hers. Trying your best to match her fervor, you put both of your hands on her waist and pulled her closer. Deciding this wasn't enough for her, Ahyeon moved your hands from her waist to her ass and made sure that you had firm grasp of it before letting you take hold alone. After making out for a bit, the elevator finally signaled that it had arrived at her floor. Hearing the noise, Ahyeon let you off the wall, but made sure to grab one of your hands so she could lead you to here apartment. When you two finally arrived at her door, she made sure that you had both your hands on her waist before punching in her code. After inputting the code, she turned and gave you a quick peck before pulling you into her apartment. Letting her lead the way, you walked through her apartment before stopping in her living room. Turning around, Ahyeon looked at you with a mixture of happiness and fear. Sensing that she needed some more reassurance, you grabbed her again by the waist and captured her lips once again with yours. Not wanting this to turn into a full on makeout session, Ahyeon separated from you after a few seconds. Taking a second to look at her in her eyes, you see the fear and happiness melting away and being replaced with something else… lust.

Feeling a renewed sense of purpose and anger, Ahyeon once again grabbed you by your shirt and dragged you into her bedroom before shoving you onto her bed. Landing on her bed, you are then met with the sight of a lust filled Ahyeon. This along with the previous makeout sessions caused your dick to start to harden. Seeing this, Ahyeon smirked before sitting on your lap and straddling you. This only caused you to harden more and you released a slight moan. This caused Ahyeon to start to grind herself on top of you. Deciding that you need take back some control, you flipped yourself and Ahyeon so now she was on her back. Taking a second to truly take in the sight of her, you noticed what she had been wearing the entire night. While not inappropriate, it was borderline non work attire. She wore a small black skirt that at the right angle would reveal the bottom of her ass and a tight white button down with a black tie that was begging to be ripped off. Seeing your loss of focus, Ahyeon thrust her clothed core to meet your hardened dick which once again caused you to moan. Deciding you truly had had enough, you ripped off your shirt and pants before starting to strip Ahyeon. Seeing how excited she was for you to do so, you chose to taunt her a bit by slowly dragging down her skirt inch by inch.

"Y/N just take it fucking off"

"Language Ahyeon. I don't want to fuck a foul mouthed whore"

"Listen Y/N, if you don't hurry the fuck up. I will tie you to this bed and will ride you until you can't even think of getting your dick hard".

"Now Ahyeon, how is that supposed to dissuade me". "Fuck you" she replied. "That's the plan babe".

"How about this. The faster I get naked, the faster you get to bury your cock inside of me and the faster you get to see my naked tits. Don't pretend like I haven't caught you staring at my tits or my ass throughout the year… oh and, the faster you get to find out how much of a whore I am for your cock. Maybe I'll even let you fuck my ass tonight".

Hearing this certainly motivated you and you practically tore of her skirt and shirt before actually tearing her panties before struggling with her bra. Seeing you struggle, Ahyeon decided to help you out and unclasped it for you. Seeing her bra drop and her tits barren in front of you, you hovered over her practically panting. Seeing you frozen, Ahyeon rose up enough to meet your ear before whispering "You can suck them you know." Hearing that, you dove face first into her tits before capturing one of her nipples with your mouth and groping the other tit with your hand. Swapping back and forth, you feasted on her tits before finally she had to physically tear you off of them. Annoyed at being separated from your prize, your head was then shoved down past her delectable abs and in front of her neatly shaven cunt. Realizing what she wanted, you slowly moved towards your next feast. Slowly licking down from her abs, you gave her inner thighs some much needed attention before diving in. After a few minutes of burying your head in her cunt, you sensed that her orgasm was approaching. Ahyeon started to pant your name "Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, please" Tearing yourself away from her glorious cunt, you raised your head and said "What babe, what do want". "Please Y/N." "Please what Ahyeon" "Please just fucking make me come" Hearing this you dove back in and started to truly feast on her, burying your tongue so deep that you felt her nearly come from any movement. Coyly moving your right hand in front of her puckered hole, you inserted one finger into her ass right when you captured her clit with your mouth. Feeling this Ahyeon, instantly came and showered your face in her cum. After making sure to lap up her entire orgasm, you removed your finger from her ass and met her face to face. Seeing her dazed, you softly grabbed her face and kiss her, making sure she got a tase of her own release.

After recovering, Ahyeon then slapped your shoulder before kissing you again. "Yah, I didn't say anything about putting a finger in my ass"

"Really? Oh well, because it certainly seemed like you liked it Ahyeon" you cockily responded.

"Whatever Y/N. You're lucky I like you".

"Love honey. Love me"

"Shut up Y/N. Swap spots with me so I can return the favor."

Not wanting to look a gift blowjob in the mouth, you quickly swapped with Ahyeon so now you were laying on your back and she was on top of you. After pulling off your shirt, Ahyeon gave you soft kisses down your chest before hovering over your lap. She then tore your pants off before slowly sliding your underwear off revealing your bare cock which had been hard since you two had made it to the bedroom. Like the little minx she was, she then gave slow, long licks along your hardened shaft causing you to moan like a little bitch. Hearing this caused a smirk to come over her face. "Ahyeon" you groaned. "Ahyeon what, Y/N?" "Ugh, you know what babe" Giving another long lick and cupping your balls, Ahyeon asked you again "What Y/N?" "Fuck you" you angrily spat. "Just say it Y/N" "Fine… please Ahyeon please blow me" you begged. Hearing you final beg, Ahyeon started to take your cock inch by inch. Each inch caused you to moan even louder causing Ahyeon to smirk even more before you finally bottomed out. Ahyeon gave you a second to relax before she fucking her throat on your cock, drooling and letting spit leak out of her mouth. Feeling your orgasm approaching, you gave Ahyeon a warning about your upcoming climax; but hearing this only caused Ahyeon to fuck her throat with your cock even more before finally your orgasm overwhelmed you and you fill Ahyeon’s throat with your cum. Ahyeon, being the good little slut she was, took your entire load drinking it without abandon before letting your cock pop out of her mouth and then opening her mouth to show you that she had swallowed your entire load.

Ahyeon then straddle you and lowered her face right over yours before saying "Don't even think about passing out on me Y/N. I have wanted too damn long for this and I am getting what I deserve". She then captured your lips in a kiss that was filled with both lust and love. You then flipped yourself and Ahyeon again so she was on her back and you were above her. You then softly placed your hand on her check and were about to speak before she beat you to the punch. "Y/N, I love you; but will you for God's sake, stop being a gooey romantic and just bury your cock in my aching cunt". Hearing this along with her grabbing your cock and giving you a handjob got you hard once again. You then positioned your dick in front of her entrance before looking at her for one last bit of reassurance which she gave you by whispering in your ear "Y/N, want to know a secret. You're going to be my first" This got you even harder than you thought possible. She continued "Think about it Y/N. You are going to be the first and only person to fuck Jung Ahyeon. Think about your tight I am going to be then imagine burying yourself in there night after night filling me with your seed. Breeding me over and over again until all I can think about is your cock. And then after you have filled me with so much of your seed that I am leaking, then you get to fuck my ass. That tight little ass that looks so good in mini skirts and leggings. Don't you want to breed my greedy little cunt. Don't you want to fuck my puckered little hole." Finally breaking your resolve, you slowly slid in inch by inch into Ahyeon's waiting cunt, giving her time to adjust to each inch before you finally were fully sheathed in her cocksleeve. Looking at her for reassurance, Ahyeon pulled your face closer to hers saying "Fuck me Y/N. Give my aching cunt your seed and breed me" and capturing your lips with hers. Hearing this, you start to hammer into her waiting cunt like a piston with each thrust causing Ahyeon to moan more and more into your mouth, moving your hands to grab her ass as you fuck her cunt like a madman. After a few minutes, you begging to feel your second orgasm nearing. Sensing this too, Ahyeon wrapped her legs around you to lock in you place and make sure that you couldn't pull out. She then whispered again in your ear "Breed me. Fill your cock slut with your seed and mark me as yours". Hearing that triggered your release and you began to fill Ahyeon's pussy with spurt after spurt of your load. This along with your finger which you had once again sneakily buried in her puckered hole triggered Ahyeon's second release as well. Finally after both of you had the felt the last moments of your respective orgasm leave you, you both glanced down at your combined loads leaking out of Ahyeon's pussy which caused your dick your dick to twitch which Ahyeon immediately felt causing her to moan as well. Finally raising your eyes to meet hers again, you gave Ahyeon once last soft kiss on her lips before you flipped you two over once last time and passed out with your cock in the warmth of her pussy.

--- The Next Day ---

Waking up after a night of intense fucking was nothing like you imagined especially with the girl of your dreams with you. After a few seconds of your blinking your eyes and regaining your awareness, you then become aware again of where you were, what you had done last night, and who you did it with… and also who you were still buried inside. Realizing the situation you were in, you slowly tried to pull your cock out of the tight embrace of Ahyeon's cunt. Feeling the loss of you, Ahyeon's legs were instantly wrapped around you and she once again leg locked you so your cock would remain buried inside of her. Feeling the tight embrace of her pussy once again, your cock started to harden. You then shifted your eyes towards Ahyeon's waiting and annoyed face. "What were you trying to do Y/N? she angrily asked. Stuttering, you respond to her "I was trying to pull out because I was still inside you and I thought that it would be impolite to" You started to say before Ahyeon cut you off. "Y/N, I begged you to not only fuck me but to also breed me multiple times last night. I leg locked you so you wouldn't be able to pull out and then I made sure you were buried inside of me before we passed out… since you clearly are terrible at picking up even the most obvious signs, I want your cock to be buried inside me like the good little cocksleeve I am as often as possible". This statement caused your cock to once again stand at full attention, although this was a little hard being buried in Ahyeon's warmth. Feeling you once again ready, Ahyeon pulled you close to her once again, whispering "Now am I going to need to tell you what to do again or are you finally going to pick up on my signals and take some fucking action". Capturing her lips with yours, you started to makeout with her once again. Tearing her lips away from yours, Ahyeon looked at your angrily and once about to start lecturing you; but before she could, you began to fuck her without abandon and all thoughts left her brain with you two spending the rest of the morning trying your best to catch up on lost time.

[anthotneystark]

Had an idea at work but couldn't write it out until now lmao

Down on his luck Steve who refuses to give in to his parents and is desperately trying to figure things out for himself. But putting himself through school (i can never decide between nursing or education) is expensive. So he works two jobs, trying to save up and taking a few classes here and there, and the one job is in a restaurant. It's a fancier place, usually gets him decent tips, but the best nights are the ones where he's not waiting tables. The best nights are the ones where he plays the piano and sets the mood and has a little more freedom to enjoy himself.

Enter Rockstar!Eddie, who got out of Hawkins quick and never looked back. Who's at this fancy place for a work dinner and, as his bandmates (Jeff) demanded, he's trying to behave himself and remember which fork is which. But that's just not possible, not entirely, when he catches glimpses of a beautiful face, a face only rarely darting up from the piano in front of him. And look, Eddie's only human. He's smitten just from glimpses. He manages to get through the dinner, constantly watching to see if the piano man will look up again, but he's still playing by the time they're wrapping up.

So he skips out on riding back to the hotel with the others, goes to the bar area and decides it's not that creepy to wait for him. He waits and waits and waits and listens for the music to stop. The bartender is all but shoving him out the door when it does. With no other choice, he waits outside, smokes a cigarette to calm his nerves while he looks for a head of chestnut hair with an angel's face. Just as he's about to give up, he sees him. And he recognizes him. But just as much as that dismays him, he's still got hope enough to give it a shot.

He doesn't think Steve will recognize him anyway, but even if he does, Eddie's never been accused of making the best decisions.

So he slinks out from the shadows, which is a bad decision, and tries to get Steve's attention, which is a bad decision, and surprises Steve, who's first instinct is a fight response, resulting in Eddie getting punched in the face.

Because bad decisions.

Steve is obviously very apologetic, takes Eddie back home to get him ice for his face, and Eddie can't even protest because Pain. But once his face is numb and Steve's cleaning up the blood from his nose (very bruised but not broken) he's kinda staring and Steve, clearly embarrassed, is doing concussion tests. When asked "what's today's date" he responds with "our future anniversary". And when Steve asks him "what's your name" he responds with "your future husband" and Steve gives up on questions after that.

They obviously make out about it, even though they keep accidentally injuring Eddie further by knocking his nose.

And Eddie is right, it is their anniversary after all.

[ilovemarvel97]

Written in Our Souls - Part 2

Wanda Maximoff x Reader 

Summary: Y/N is thrilled to see Wanda. But Wanda is not.

Word Count: 3,300

Warnings: angst

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

---

Y/N’s POV

"Alright, I don’t know what’s going on, but, Welcome to the team, Agent Y/N!” 

I hear Tony Stark say that, but my head barely registers it. All I can think is—I finally found her. My soulmate. My Wanda. The burning on my wrist is still warm, like a brand confirming what I already know in my heart.

She’s beautiful. God, she’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.

I tried to go after her, to say something—anything—but she was gone before I could take a single step in her direction. And then the rest of the team surrounded me. Questions. Greetings. Jokes I was too dazed to respond to. The moment passed. She disappeared.

I hope I didn’t imagine the look on her face. The way her eyes widened. The slight parting of her lips. She felt it too. She had to.

I grip my wrist, still burning with her name.  

Wanda.  

I replay the moment over and over in my head as the team gives me a tour of the compound. I nod, I smile, I thank them—but I’m not really here. Not fully. A part of me is still standing in that room, staring at the girl I’ve waited for my entire life.

But something’s off.  

If she felt it too, why did she leave?

“I’m Natasha Romanoff. I’ll show you to your room.”  

Natasha’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

“Nice to meet you, Natasha. I’ve heard a lot about the Black Widow,” I say, shaking her hand.

She gives me a brief smirk and leads the way. A moment later, she throws a glance over her shoulder, brows raised, curious.  

“So… how do you know Wanda?”

I force a smile. 

“I don’t,” I answer carefully. “We’ve never met before.”

She pauses—just for a second—but I catch it.  

“Huh,” she mutters, then continues. “Could’ve fooled me. You two looked like you’d seen ghosts—or something else.”

I chuckle softly, though it sounds hollow. “First-day nerves, maybe. Meeting the Avengers isn’t exactly casual.”

She doesn’t respond, but I feel her watching me from the corner of her eye.

When we reach the guest quarters, she opens the door.  

“This’ll be your room. Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” I say, stepping inside.

Nat lingers a moment longer. “If you need anything, I’m just down the hall.”

I nod politely. “Appreciate it.”

Once the door shuts, I finally exhale. My heart is still racing.

I glance down at my wrist, where the name Wanda glows softly against my skin. Still warm. Still real.

I whisper to myself, “I should’ve asked Natasha where Wanda’s room is…”

“It’s at the end of the hall, miss,” a voice replies, making me jump.

“Who’s there?!” I spin around, hands raised instinctively.

“My name is FRIDAY. I’m Mr. Stark’s AI assistant. I’m here to help with anything you need,” the voice says calmly.

“Cool,” I whistle. “So, Wanda’s room is at the end of the hall?”

“Yes. Would you like me to notify her that you’re coming?”

“No… it’s okay. I won’t go. Not yet.”

“Alright. Call me if you need anything,” FRIDAY replies.

I wanted to go. My legs ached to move. But I wasn’t sure. She didn’t look thrilled when she saw me. Still, she’s mine. My Wanda. My soulmate. I want to see her again. I want to know more about her. I wanna see her again…

“Fuck it,” I mutter, throwing the door open and heading straight for her room.

I pause in front of her door, heart hammering. My palms are sweaty, but I knock before I can change my mind.

Seconds feel like minutes—then she opens the door.

Everything stops again.

“Hi,” I say, voice barely above a whisper. I can’t stop smiling. She’s breathtaking.

“You’re Wanda, right?” I ask, holding up my wrist with her name glowing across it.

She looks at it, and I swear I see her eyes light up for a split second—but just as quickly, the spark vanishes.

“You’re my soul—” I begin, but she cuts me off.

“No. I’m not. Sorry.”

“But… my wrist is burning. Yours too, right?” I glance at her wrist. It’s covered.

“No. You’re not,” she says again, firmer this time.

“Can I see it? Please? Your wrist—it has my name. Y/N. I know it does.”

She flinches. I see her flinch.

But then she lies. “No. It’s not your name.”

I don’t understand. My wrist pulses just being near her. Every cell in my body screams she’s the one. But she keeps denying it.  

Is it a mistake?  

Is she scared?  

Am I not what she imagined?

“Is that all?” she asks, snapping me out of my daze.

“Welcome to the team. Good night,” she adds coldly—and shuts the door in my face.

The slam feels like a punch to the chest. I stand there for a few seconds before forcing myself to walk back to my room.

Maybe she just needs time…  I think.

---

The Next Morning

At breakfast, Natasha offers to introduce me to the rest of the team—those who just returned from a mission.

But when we reach the shared living area, I freeze.

A red-faced man peck Wanda’s lips and she smiles at him.

Suddenly, the world tilts.  

My lungs forget how to work.  

My chest tightens painfully.

Was I shot? Are we under attack?

My ears ring. I can’t hear a thing Natasha’s saying.  

All I can see is Wanda… smiling. At him.

“Y/N!” Natasha calls sharply, bringing me back.

I blink, breathing uneven.

“Are you okay? You look pale,” she says, concerned.

Everyone’s looking at me. Even Wanda.

But when I meet her eyes, she quickly looks away.

“I’m fine. Just… uh, hungry,” I lie with a forced smile.

“So, what were your names again?” I ask, turning to the others.

“I’m Steve. This is Bucky. And that’s Vision—Wanda’s fiancé,” Steve says.

Fiancé.

The word makes me nauseous.

“Fiancé. I see,” I say, forcing a smile.

I glance at Wanda again. Our eyes meet.  

But this time… I’m the one who looks away.

“Well, nice to meet you all. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go shower before training,” I mutter, slipping out as calmly as I can.

---

The second I shut my door, I bolt to the bathroom and throw up everything I ate.

My body shakes. My head spins.  

This isn’t what a soulmate bond is supposed to feel like.

This hurts.  

This burns.

Is this what it feels like to be rejected by your soulmate?

Now I understand.  

That’s why she said no.  

She’s engaged.

And I have no idea what to do.

I stay for a while in my room, trying to calm my fast heartbeat.

---

The training was more about me. They wanted to know my powers and what I am capable of.

My powers are super strength and speed, so they made me pair with Steve in the end.

I tried not to look at Wanda during the practice. But I should’ve known that it was impossible when your body is looking for your other half.

Thanks to that I got some punch from Steve which I think might bruise.

---

That night, my chest was painful.

The team wanted to know me better so everybody were gathered, but the pain in my chest was a little annoying.

As I rub my ribs, Clint asks me if I was alright, and I joke that Steve’s punches were a little heavy. He apologize which I say it was just a bruise.

But when I went to check on the mirror in my bathroom, there were no bruises on my body.

Maybe it just didn’t bruise

The Next morning I wake up breathless.

Not from a nightmare. Not from panic.

Just… breathless.

Like my lungs forgot how to work overnight.

I sit up slowly, rubbing at my chest. The dull ache is back. Not sharp—yet—but enough to make me wince when I stretch too far.

It’s probably nothing. Just fatigue. Stress. Maybe the training wore me out more than I thought.

I drag myself out of bed, pull on my clothes, and head to the common room where most of the team is already having breakfast.

She’s there.  

Wanda.

Sitting beside Vision, leaning slightly into him as she laughs at something he says. Her hair is still damp from a shower, tied loosely at the nape of her neck. She looks… soft this morning. Calm.

Untouchable.

The second I step into the room, the pain spikes.  

Like someone tied a rope around my ribs and yanked.

I falter for just a second, but force a smile and grab a cup of coffee, pretending I didn’t almost fall over.

I take the seat farthest from her.

Steve’s talking about scheduling training rotations. Natasha’s chiming in with jokes about who’s most likely to break something this time. I nod when I’m supposed to. I laugh when they laugh.

But I don’t hear any of it.

Because Wanda doesn’t look at me. Not once.

And I can feel her.  

Even across the room, I feel the absence of her attention like a knife between my ribs.

---

I decide to try to be friends with her. And see where it will take us.

So, I try to talk to her again.

Nothing heavy. Just something small.

“I liked your throw during training today,” I offer as we cross paths in the hallway.

Wanda barely glances at me. “Thanks.”

Her tone is clipped. Dismissive.

I keep walking, pretending it doesn’t feel like another nail in my chest.

But I should continue to try.

So, I try again.

---

Hallway, midday.

I catch her coming out of the training room, towel slung around her neck, cheeks flushed from exertion.

I clear my throat. “Hey… I was wondering if maybe you wanted to spar sometime. You’re quick on your feet.”

She doesn’t even stop walking. “I already train with Natasha.”

Right. Of course.

I nod, even though she’s already halfway down the hall.

The pressure in my chest stays long after she’s gone.

---

In the kitchen, late at night.

It’s just the two of us. Everyone else is asleep. I’m leaning against the counter, sipping tea I don’t even want.

She walks in and moves straight to the fridge.

“You have trouble sleeping too?” I ask gently, voice low so I don’t scare her off.

Wanda pauses. Her back to me.

Then, without turning around, she says, “Not really.”

She grabs what she needs and leaves.

I stay frozen, blinking down at the mug in my hand, like I forgot how it got there.

The ache beneath my ribs tightens like a coil.

---

Outside on the balcony.

The sunset’s casting orange streaks across the compound. Wanda’s alone, arms folded, staring out at the trees.

I approach quietly. I don’t want to push her—just… try.

“Pretty out here,” I say softly.

She doesn’t look at me. “I wanted space.”

“I can go—”

“Then go.”

Her voice isn’t sharp. Just tired. But it cuts deeper than any blade.

I nod once, swallowing thickly, and back away.

I don’t sleep that night. The pain in my chest wraps around my lungs like barbed wire.

---

Right before a mission debrief.

Everyone’s scattered, settling into their seats, sipping coffee. Wanda’s standing off to the side, arms crossed, not looking at anyone.

I take a breath, walk over, my heart thundering. One more try.

“Be safe out there today,” I say, managing a smile. “If you need backup—”

“I’ll be fine.”

She cuts me off, her eyes finally meeting mine for the briefest second.

Then she turns her back to me, walking away without another word.

This time, the pain hits hard.

A sudden throb in my chest that steals my breath. I press my hand to my heart, pretending I’m just adjusting my gear. Pretending I’m fine.

But something’s wrong. I know it now.  

This isn’t just heartbreak.

This is my soul breaking.  

And my body knows it too.

---

It’s been three months since I joined the Avengers, and the pain in my chest just got worse.

It’s harder to sleep.

Lying down makes it worse—like gravity is pulling all the pain into one spot just under my heart.

I curl onto my side, pressing my fist to my chest, teeth clenched.

I keep telling myself it’s just training. Maybe I tore something. Maybe it’s a pulled muscle. Maybe I’m sick. Maybe—

But it’s only like this when she’s near.  

Only like this when I hear her laugh with him.

---

I sit beside Sam at the kitchen counter. I haven’t eaten a full meal in two days.

He frowns as he watches me stir the same bowl of cereal for the third time.

“You good?” he asks, nudging me with his elbow.

“Yeah,” I lie. “Just… not feeling great. Think I caught something.”

“Heartburn?” he jokes.

I give him a hollow laugh. “Something like that.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Wanda enter the room. Her hand brushes against Vision’s as they pass each other.

The pain comes back—tight, raw.

I double over slightly, masking it as a cough.

“You sure you’re okay?” Sam asks again, concern flickering now.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “Just need some air.”

Back in my room, I rip off my shirt and stand in front of the mirror again.

Nothing.

No bruises. No burns. No visible reason for why I feel like I’m being crushed from the inside out.

I press my palm flat to my chest and close my eyes.

Wanda’s name still burns on my wrist.  

Her soul still calls to mine.

And mine is starting to scream.

---

During one of the trainings Natasha approaches me. We’ve become friends during the three months I stayed here. 

“You okay?”

Natasha’s voice pulls me from the edge of a wince. I hadn’t even realized I was clutching my ribs again. The ache had become background noise—something I’d grown used to ignoring. Or trying to.

“I’m fine,” I say too quickly, forcing a smile. “Just a stitch. Probably slept wrong.”

Nat doesn’t look convinced. She never does.

She tosses me a water bottle and sits beside me on the bench outside the training room, elbow resting on her knee, gaze fixed on the mat.

“I’ve seen you do that a lot,” she says, casual like we’re just talking about the weather. “Hold your side. Flinch when you think no one’s watching.”

I go still.

“You sure it’s not a heart thing?” she adds, finally glancing at me. “Because I know the signs, Y/N. You’ve looked like you’re about to pass out more than once.”

I try to laugh it off. “Thanks for the concern, Mom.”

“Don’t deflect.” Her voice is soft, but her eyes are steel. “I’m serious.”

I take a slow breath, chewing on my lip.

“I don’t know what it is,” I admit, voice barely above a whisper. “It started small. Little pinches in my chest. Tightness. I thought it was stress, or maybe Steve’s punches catching up to me.”

Nat nods, letting me talk.

“But it’s getting worse,” I continue. 

“Have you talked to anyone? Medical?”

“I went once,” I say. “They didn’t find anything wrong. Heart rate was elevated, but nothing dangerous. They said maybe anxiety.”

“But it’s not just anxiety,” Nat guesses.

I nod. “But it’s okay. Maybe I’m just not used to the new routine” I chuckle.

Although Nat doesn’t buy it, she doesn’t push it either.

And I am glad for that. I haven’t told her about Wanda and I possibly being soulmates.

---

Three days. 

That’s how long this mission was supposed to last. Simple, straightforward—at least that’s how the briefing went. But I never expected it to be this difficult. Not with her. Not with Wanda.

We’ve been on missions before, sure, but this was different. This time, it’s just the two of us. We’re under disguise, trying to blend in. No one else to watch our backs.

And honestly? I don’t think I can take it. She ignored me the whole day. Only talking when necessary. 

The worst part is that we need to share a room for the night. The air in the motel room feels too thick every time I breathe, suffocating me with the tension between us. 

She barely looks at me. She keeps to herself, speaking only when absolutely necessary. Her words are short, clipped, like she’s afraid to say too much. But we’re not here for small talk. I can’t afford to think about it, but I can feel the pull every time she’s near me. Every time her voice breaks the silence, it’s like a hot knife in my chest, burning me.

I close my eyes, trying to relax. I can’t, though. The pain is always there, a tightness in my chest that never goes away. Every time I move, I feel it, like something is pressing down on my ribs, cutting into me.

Wanda’s soft breathing beside me doesn’t help. Her presence feels like a constant reminder of what my soul wants, but I can’t have. I try to roll over to my side, but the pain intensifies. 

I grip the blanket, squeezing my eyes shut, just trying to sleep.

---

I’m not sure how much time has passed when it happens.

I hear Wanda scream. 

It’s a high, sharp sound—nothing like the calm voice I’ve gotten used to. It pierces the stillness of the room, pulling me straight out of the haze of sleep. I shoot up in an instant, heart racing in my chest. The sound echoes in my head as I turn toward her. 

She’s thrashing, her hands clawing at the air, eyes wide open but unseeing, tears flowing freely down her face. She’s trapped. Trapped in something I can’t see.

I don’t even think. The instinct is immediate, overwhelming. Without hesitation, I throw the blanket off and move to her side. 

“Wanda?” I say, voice hoarse with panic. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Her eyes dart around, unfocused. I don’t care if I’m crossing some line—if this is too much. I pull her into my arms, wrapping her tightly against me, holding her close. 

The second she’s against me, her body stiffens in shock. But then, slowly, she stops struggling. Her breath hitches in and out, her hands trembling, but she doesn’t pull away.

“Wanda,” I whisper again, softer this time, “You’re safe. You’re okay. You’re here with me.”

She doesn’t respond, but after a moment, I feel her relax. Her body stops shaking, and her breath becomes more even, less frantic. Her head presses into my chest, and I gently stroke her back, my hands moving instinctively, soothing, calming.

The sound of her sobs dies down, and the tension in her shoulders finally loosens. Her body feels like dead weight against mine, but I hold her tighter, not wanting to let go. 

And in that moment, something inside me clicks. The ache in my chest—the constant pressure, the burning that’s been gnawing at me for weeks—fades away.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I can breathe. I can feel my heart slowing to a normal rhythm. The pain is gone. 

I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the way she feels in my arms, just perfect.

I don’t understand it. I don’t know what happened. But for the first time in weeks, I’m at ease.

I lay there for what feels like an eternity, just holding her. And as the minutes pass, I finally allow myself to close my eyes, the soft rise and fall of her chest beneath my palm the only thing that matters.

For the first time in days, I sleep.

---

Part 3

---

This is Part 2. Ready for the next part?

[meazalykov]

every win is not sweet

alexia putellas x realmadrid!reader

you’re still trying to catch your breath as the final whistle blows, the sound of it almost drowned out by the eruption of cheers around the away catalan stadium. bodies are collapsing onto the pitch, teammates rushing toward you with arms wide open. 

your chest heaves, the pounding of your heart matching the excitment of the away crowd that surprisingly had a good turnout. the scoreboard blares its unforgiving truth. real madrid 3, barcelona 1.

the player of the match does to caroline but it’s your name that echoes through the stadium. it was your goal in the 90+6 minute that basically told barcelona that they were not coming back from this match. this time, they fell and you were the one to do it.

your teammates engulf you, the weight of their bodies crashing into yours. laughter, cheers, even a few tears. you can barely stand. someone ruffles your hair, another smacks your back but through it all your eyes instinctively search the pitch. 

those eyes of yours past the celebrating white shirts, past the madridistas jumping in the stands. your gaze finally lands on her. alexia.

she’s still near the barcelona bench, hands on her hips, her head tilted down. that dark blonde  of hers is damp with sweat, strands clinging to her face. the captain’s armband is loose around her bicep. for a moment, she doesn’t move. then, without meeting your gaze, she turns away.

by the time the post-match formalities are over, the adrenaline has worn off. your body aches. the press interviews are a blur….you manage the usual lines, nothing too biting, nothing too cocky. 

the club media officer is relieved. they didn’t want anything inflammatory from you, not after a victory like this but your mind’s not there. it’s with alexia who does take losses like this very seriously.

later you’re barely through the front door of your apartment when you hear the distinct sound of keys jangling. you shut the door quietly, kicking off your shoes. the lights are dim, the city skyline glowing faintly through the wide windows. the hum of barcelona traffic filters in.

"alexia?"

the sound of her footsteps emerges from the kitchen. she doesn’t answer at first. instead, she stands with her back to you, the fridge door open as she retrieves a bottle of water. the tension is palpable, hanging heavy in the air. you swallow hard.

"baby?" you try again, softer this time.

she finally turns, her jaw tight. those usually warm brown eyes are distant now and you know. you know before she even says a word.

"you didn't have to celebrate like that."

the words are clipped, low. they hang between you, and you can't hide the flicker of surprise that flashes across your face.

"what?"

alexia steps closer, the water bottle gripped tightly in her hand, "the way you showed off to our crowd, y/n… you wanted to rub it into our fans faces."

"are you serious?" you ask, your voice cracking slightly, "that was our first win over you ever and i scored in stoppage time. what did you expect me to do? stand there?"

she doesn’t respond immediately. her jaw clenches, her eyes narrowing.

"i get it," she finally says, "it was a big moment for madrid  but you know what it was for us? our first loss to you. do you know how that feels?"

"of course i do," you snap, frustration bubbling to the surface. "every clasico we’ve played, we’ve been humiliated. every time, you walk off the pitch victorious, and i’m left wondering if we’ll ever catch up and today, we did. i’m sorry that hurts you, but it meant everything to my teammates.” 

alexia shakes her head, her lips pressing into a thin line, "this isn’t just about the game. it’s about how you celebrated. you could’ve… i don’t know, shown some respect."

"respect?" your voice rises, incredulous, "you think i disrespected you? alexia, i never played for barcelona therefore i don’t have any loyalty to give to that club… only just to you. i would never disrespect you but i’m allowed to be happy. i’m allowed to celebrate."

she’s silent again, and it’s unbearable. the walls of the apartment seem smaller, suffocating. your breaths are shallow, your pulse quickening.

"maybe you don’t understand because you’re always winning," you murmur, the bitterness slipping through despite your best efforts.

alexia’s eyes flash, and it stings. you’ve never fought like this before. not like this.

"so now i’m the villain for being successful? is that it?" she retorts, her voice sharp.

"that’s not what i said."

"but it’s what you meant."

the weight of the argument crashes over both of you. you see the flicker of hurt in her eyes, the way her shoulders tense. she’s always been passionate, fiery. you love that about her but right now, it’s a wall you can’t get through.

"alexia," you whisper, your voice cracking, "this doesn’t have to be like this. we’re on different teams, yeah, but we’re not against each other…. not really."

she exhales slowly, her gaze dropping to the floor. the tension lingers, but so does something else. something fragile.

"i know," she murmurs, "i just… it’s hard."

at first, it seemed like the tension from that argument had started to dissolve. she had mumbled something about how you played well, and you thanked her, adding that she had too. the words were stiff, like neither of you wanted to bring up what had happened but of course, it didn’t take long before it resurfaced.

"i'm just saying," alexia spoke, her voice laced with frustration, "if jana’s goal wasn’t called offside, the entire game would have been different."

you blinked, confused… "what? but it was offside, alexia."

she scoffed, shaking her head, "barely. it was so tight and those kinds of calls... sometimes they go the other way. we should’ve had that goal."

"but you didn’t." your voice came out sharper than you intended, "because it was offside. that’s how the game works… offside goals do not count."

"so you think that call was perfect? flawless?" her brows furrowed, her jaw tight.

you exhaled, trying to steady yourself, "i think the refs checked it and confirmed it. what else do you want, ale? they didn’t just pull that decision out of thin air.”

"right, because officiating has never been questionable," she shot back, sarcasm dripping from every word.

your patience thinned. she wasn't just upset, alexia was convincing herself of something that wasn’t true. you understood how painful a loss like this was. barcelona’s dominance over madrid had been undeniable, and now that streak was broken. the denial? that was something else.

"are you seriously going to keep this up?" you snapped, your voice rising, "are you really going to sit here and act like jana's goal wasn’t offside just to cope with losing? is that how you’re all dealing with it?"

alexia’s mouth parted slightly, as if the words stung. she held your gaze, the warmth in her brown eyes quickly replaced by something colder. 

"whatever," she muttered, pushing herself off the couch, "congratulations on your win, y/n." 

the way she said it, bitter and dismissive, made your stomach twist. you shook your head as she walked away, disappearing down the hall. 

"unbelievable," you mumbled under your breath, the weight of the night pressing down on you.

all of those hours passed, the air in the apartment thick with unresolved tension. you spent most of the evening scrolling mindlessly through your phone, trying to push down the guilt simmering inside you. 

the truth was, you didn’t like how you handled it. you had every right to stand by the victory, but snapping at alexia like that? that wasn’t fair. she had poured her heart into that match just as much as you had.

when you heard the soft creak of the bedroom door, your eyes flicked up. alexia stood there, her shoulders slightly hunched, her expression unreadable. 

"hey," you said quietly, setting your phone aside.

"hey," she echoed, her voice soft. there was a hesitance in her step as she approached you.

"look," you sighed, rubbing the back of your neck, "i shouldn’t have said that. i was frustrated at your reaction, but that doesn’t mean i should’ve approached it in that manner."

she nodded slowly, "and i shouldn't have... i shouldn’t have made excuses. it wasn’t fair to you. i’m sorry."

the weight of it all lifted slightly. you reached out, gently taking her hand in yours. her fingers curled around yours, that familiar warmth grounding you. 

"i get why you were upset," you murmured, "i would be too. it wasn’t just any game."

alexia’s lips twitched upward in the faintest smile, though her eyes still held a tinge of sadness. 

"it was a big one."

"yeah," you whispered, pulling her closer. your arms wrapped around her waist, and she melted into your embrace, "but i’m glad we’re okay… right?"

she nodded against your shoulder, her breath steady, "we are."

you pulled back just enough to press a soft kiss to her lips. alexia’s hands rested against your back, holding you firmly. the kiss was slow, unhurried.

when you pulled away, you smirked playfully, deciding to lighten the mood, "good luck against wolfsburg this weekend," you whispered, the words brushing against her ear.

alexia scoffed, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. 

"thanks," she replied, "you too, but against arsenal."

masterlist

authors note: I hate madrid so it was very hard to write this one without being snarky LMAO

[belovaballerina]

Our Merge is Eternal

Grotequerie: Father Charlie Mayhew x fem!reader 

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

WC: 2k 

Prompt: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?” -Cirice by Ghost for @sweetspicybingo (Lyrical Bingo Collection)

Warnings: Oral (f receiving), religious imagery, religious guilt, handjob, public sex, spanking, whipping, pain play, penance, verbal humiliation, manipulation, bondage and sacrilege

Summary: Penance can be a beautiful, wonderful release

“Bless me, Father, for have I sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession.”

It always started the same way: with you in the confessional booth, the screen blurring Father Mayhew’s face, and you squirming on your knees as your sins poured from your lips. It always ended the same way: blistering pain delivered with the palm of his hand, the sharp crack of leather or sturdy wood (penance), on your knees with his cock in your mouth as tears dripped down your cheeks (guidance) and curled in his lap as he wiped your tears away (forgiveness). He was careful, allowing only your mouth and hands to pleasure him, as he did the same with you, always avoiding fucking. The sin of fornication will not consume us, he had whispered against your wet thigh with his mouth coated in your juices.

“I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

Every two weeks, like clockwork. Repeat, Repeat, Repeat. It kept you going and gave you something to look forward to, even if something was twisted about it. You welcomed the dalliance, running headfirst into it and into the arms of Father Charlie Mayhew. Those brown eyes would be your undoing, but who better than to forgive you than a man of God?

The cycle came full circle once again as you entered the confessional, arousal pooling hot and thick between your thighs and causing you to press them together tightly to dull the ache. The partition whooshed open, and you began your confession. The vulgar words fell from your tongue as you admitted your sin of self-pleasure. You felt unnerved as you were met with silence. Perhaps this had run its course.

“I want you to meet me tonight in the church,” he whispered, his face obscured by the screen.

Your heart thrummed in your chest. You were used to it happening in his office after he had finished with confession. This was something new. A break in the usual routine. It thrilled you.

“Yes, Father, what time?” you asked, hands still folded before you.

“At midnight. I’ll see you then,” Charlie responded before slamming the partition close. You move your hand through the sign of the cross before hurrying away.

A storm rolled in that evening, making the air hot and heavy, and thick raindrops poured from the gray sky. Thunder cracked through the air as lightning lit up the dark sky with bright bursts. You shivered as you hurried through the heavy doors, rain soaking through your clothes and leaving your skin feeling clammy as you made your way into the chapel. You had attended midnight mass, but beautiful candles had illuminated the room, which remained eerily dark tonight. A loud clap of thunder made you jump, and a crack of lightning brought Father Mayhew into view.

He stood at the pulpit in his black cassock, his expression stern and a rope dangling from one hand. You swallowed, approaching him slowly, unsure of what would unfold this evening as hee stepped down to meet you.

“On your knees, sinful girl,” he instructed, and you obeyed without a second thought. 

Instinctively, you lifted your wrists toward him, your palms pressed together. He guided your arms straight up into the air, sliding your shirt overhead, and your cheeks burned hot as your bare breasts were exposed. He tutted, giving one of your nipples a chastising pinch. You watched with wide eyes and bated breath as he looped the rope around your wrist, securing them with an elegant knot. His hand gripped your chin, thumb pressing to your lower lip before tracing around the outline of your mouth. Your stomach twisted as heat palpated deeper. He tugged you to your feet with a firm grip on your roped wrists before circling you.

“You come to me repeatedly, confessing the same sin,” he stated, his dark eyes boring into you.

Your mouth felt dry. “I fear I need guidance, Father. I simply find myself giving into temptation.”

He stood behind you, his hand slapping down firmly against your ass and making you stumble over your feet.

“And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell,” he hissed into your ear, his hand crashing down against your backside over and over. Pain blossomed across your skin.

“Matthew 5:30, Father,” you sniffled as he pulled your body flush against his. Your back against his chest, and you could feel it heaving with every breath he took.

“Good girl,” he purred, one warm hand pressing against your stomach, fingers dipping into the waistband of your loose-fitting black joggers, “Is that what I should do? Cut off your hands to keep them from wandering between your thighs, to keep your fingers from dipping into your greedy little cunt?”

You let out a garbled cry, unsure of how to respond as his hand plunged into your pants and underwear, his fingers immediately seeking your drenched pussy.

“I fear for your soul, child,” he whispered as his fingertips skimmed over your folds. Your lower lip trembled. His hand squeezed your right hip, a comforting touch that kept you grounded and assured you that you were safe. All you had to do was utter a simple word, and he would stop, letting you go about your evening. Either of you could end this sinful dalliance at a moment’s notice, but it just felt so good.

“Don’t let me go astray, Father. Teach me, guide me,” you moaned, caught up in the moment and willing to explore whatever he had planned.

“I will do just that. Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?” Guide me, Father, for I am but a lamb lost among the wolves.

He pulled his hand away before pushing you onto your knees and then onto your stomach before removing your shoes and tugging the clothing away from your lower half. Your face felt like it was on fire as you were exposed in such a sacred, holy area. Your eyes flickered to the statue of Mother Mary, feeling her judgment upon you. Have mercy on me, Mother.

His hands roamed over your naked skin, squeezing your prickled flesh before resting on the swell of your ass. Tears burned your eyes as his hand smacked down, over and over, searing his burning mark into your skin. You squirmed against the carpet, feeling the rug burn, irritating your stomach. You choked on your tears as they rolled hotly down your cheeks, chasing this feeling and murmuring prayers of repentance. O loving and gracious God, have mercy. Have pity upon me and take away the awful stain of my sin.

Charlie’s body pressed ontop of yours, his teeth seeking out the soft curve of your throat. You felt the swell of his erection against your abused ass. His knee slipped between your legs, pressing against your dripping cunt.

“Even now, in the sanctity of the church, your penance doesn’t deter you from your sinful nature,” he hissed into your ear before sinking his teeth into your neck. Your eyes rolled back, relishing in the sweet pop of pain that throbs through your body, rutting against his knee. 

All you could do was mewl pathetically in response as he rolled you onto your back and then cupped your face in his hands. He took in the sight of your tear-stained face and swollen lips, a small pang thrummed through his heart.

“How can I judge you so? You are no more sinful than I,” he whispered, stroking his thumbs over your tear tracks. His lips pressed against your trembling ones before undoing the ropes and pulling away from you.

You sniffled, struggling to catch your breath as you watched him stand and stretch out his arms before peeling his clothing away. The lightning bathed his skin in an eerie glow as you drank in the sight of his muscular body. It seemed wrong for a priest to be so beautiful and tempting. But God tests us in mysterious ways.

“You are so gracious in guiding me onto a righteous path. Let me help you,” you offered, extending your hand toward him.

His gaze softened, and you were lost in those warm brown eyes for a moment—endless pools of amber that you would gladly drown in. He sank to his knees, pressing his hand into yours before pulling your naked body against his.

“Would you?” he asked in earnest.

“Yes,” you smiled, stroking your fingers through his dark hair.

He kissed you again before handing you his knotted white cincture, pure as the driven snow.

“Turn around,” you instructed, smoothing your hand over his bare chest before getting used to the feel of the item in your hands. The darkness consumed you both, and you knew exactly what he was asking for.

He presented his bare back, laced with scars and a few open wounds that must have been placed earlier today. You traced your fingers over his skin, memorizing the layout of the marks and making a map of the area to lay the blows. It will be less intense than the leather cat o’nine tails, but it will suffice for now. You brought down the knotted rope against his skin, delighting in the grunt that he emitted. It doesn’t draw blood, but even in the dark light of the church, you can see the bruises blooming-mottled and purple.

You tossed the cincture aside, dropping to your knees behind him. Your lips ghosted over the marks, tongue pressing against a fresh one, throbbing against his skin and tasting the tang of blood. Charlie shivered under your touch as your hand slipped down his taut stomach to grasp his cock. You gently stroked and tugged on his rigid flesh as he arched against your hand as you danced him to the edge of a blessed release.

“Come for me, Father,” you purred into his ear, drunk on the dark power flowing through your veins. 

He spilled into your palm, sticky and pearlescent, as the sweetess moan fell from his parted lips. His head lolled back, resting against the plush pillows of your breasts. He rested against you, gathering his strength, and your head spun as he lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the altar. He lowered you onto the draped table, and you squirmed as your bare, sore ass came in contact with the hard, unforgiving surface. Charlie looked almost devilish as he dropped between your thighs, splaying them wide for him before swiping his tongue over your quivering cunt.

“Recite the Act of Contrition,” he ordered before dipping his tongue inside you.

You gasped, threading your fingers through his hair and rocking against his mouth.

“Oh My God, I am sorry for my sins. In choosing to sin and failing to do good, I have sinned against you and your church.”

Charlie’s tongue pressed to your throbbing clit, tracing the delicate bud. It felt like wanton encouragement.

“I firmly intend, with the help of your Son, to make up for my sins.”

Your fingers tightened in his hair, needy whines spilling from your mouth as pressure built in your lower belly—unbearable heat, making you think of the hellfire burning your skin.

“And to love as I should. Amen.” The words fell, garbled, and strangled from your mouth before a loud moans bled through the hallowed alcove. An intense orgasm washed over you, the bands of pleasure snapping through your belly as Charlie’s warm mouth pleasured you.

“Amen,” he whispered against your warm, wet flesh before lifting his head. His mouth coated in your release, and his dark eyes seemed to glow. Sinners, both of you, fallible and susceptible to the temptations of the flesh. Tainted by the sin of lust.

Your eyes meet his, the realization that the two of you are forever intertwined in sin. Lost in the waves of immorality together.

The hot water scalded your skin as you stood under the pounding water pouring from the showerhead. You scrubbed at your skin, washing away the lingering transgressions clinging to your tainted flesh. The cycle repeats two weeks later.

[tomasweetheart]

“Oh, you are nasty,” Iwaizumi almost seethes, his eyes following the condensation on the plastic bottle while it drips down the side, “grape flavored water?!”

His words catch you off guard, lowering the bottle with a confused look on your face before your eyebrows furrow together more, “Yes, Hajime, grape flavored water,” you respond with an eye roll, “is there a problem with me hydrating myself after our run?”

“You know there’s perfectly good, normal water in the fridge too, right?” he scoffs, he’s still in disbelief. And it’s not because you’re drinking flavored water, more so because of the flavor of water you chose.

Oh. Now you get it.

“I’m aware of that yes,” you hum, a shit eating grin beginning to form on your face, “but I’m also aware that there’s a whole pack of flavored waters that will be left untouched if I do not drink them, because you can’t help a good deal at the grocery store.”

“I would drink them if they were any other flavor!” he protested quickly with a slight pout of his own.

“Oh, you are such a liar,” you rebuttal quickly, “name one flavor you enjoy, because I can name about six right now that you don’t.” 

“I like…” he thinks for a moment, sucking on his teeth while he roams his brain for an answer, “...I, uh…blue raspberry."

You two have had this argument over and over again. Ever since you were teenagers, Iwaizumi has had a certain distaste for actual fruit flavored things. You’d think an athlete would actually prefer the artificial flavors that at least taste like healthy food, but no.

“Not a water flavor,” you hum cockily, crossing your arms over your chest, “and blue raspberry is nastier than grape by a mile.”

“You are a sick, twisted individual,” he scoffs, waving his finger at you in playful disappointment, “I am ashamed of myself for letting you get into my pants, let alone my heart for the rest of our lives.”

“Oh hush,” you hum amusedly, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck to pull his body flush against yours, “you said for better or for worse.”

“Mm, I also said in sickness and in health,” he responds with his own hum, his arms wrapping around your waist on instinct, “and you are definitely sick in the head for liking flavored water.”

His nose brushes against your own softly for a moment before he connects your lips with his in a tender kiss. A soft groan leaves his throat, unable to stop himself from running his hands along your sides as he deepens the kiss. Before he pulls away with an absolutely disgusted look on his face.

“What…?” you ask innocently through bated breath, with a soft giggle and smile.

“...You taste like grape.”

[vael-fire]

Who is Rook?

We have no Keep to keep our memories this time my friends, so I made a thing. Use it as you will, take pieces, use parts, do the whole damn thing, whatever. Thanks to @mageofquandrix for the backup on this!

Leaving the spoilery part beneath the cut.

Who is Rook?

Name:

Pronouns:

Race:

Faction:

Class:

Specialization:

Before The Veilguard

Where was Rook born? Who were their childhood family and friends? What did they spend their free time doing as a child? What did they want to be when they “grew up” if anything.

Where and how was Rook educated? What did they enjoy learning; what did they dislike learning? Who did they admire most? Who was an example of what not to do or be?

How did they experience gender as a young person? Did they grow up in an environment of strict gender roles and expectations or were they allowed to be themselves? 

What was their take on sexuality as a young person? Did they experiment with romance or find it entirely uninteresting?

What was their take on spirituality as a young person? Did they grow up around one particular religion and if so how did that affect their beliefs?

What childhood fear(s) did Rook carry with them into adulthood?

How did Rook become involved with their chosen faction? Who did they meet first, and how, and where, and why did they join up?

Was Rook interested in finding a life partner of some kind when they joined their faction? Why? Who were their best friends and how did they meet? Who were their rivals, who did they trust?

Did Rook have any scars or tattoos? What’s the story behind them?

Did Rook ever strongly identify with a particular nationality, city, race, creed, or religion? Is this something they explored on their own or a tradition that was passed down to them? Did this identity evolve as they grew into adulthood?

Lightning Round - PREGAME VERSION

Favorite scent:

Favorite food:

Favorite animal:

Favorite book or story:

Favorite drink:

Favorite item of clothing:

Favorite keepsake:

Favorite place:

Favorite person:

Favorite little treat:

During The Veilguard (HEAVY SPOILERS BENEATH THE CUT)

Act 1: Signs and Portents

What was Rook’s status with their own faction at the beginning of the game? Why were they recruited by Varric?

What did Rook think of Varric when they first met? Did Rook support Varric’s choice to confront Solas alone?

Did Rook take Neve or Harding with them when they went to interrupt the ritual themselves? Why?

How did Rook engage with stories of the elven gods at the beginning of the Veilguard? Were the familiar or strange? Was it disorienting to have them rewritten or did it make no real difference to them?

What was Rook’s instinctive reaction to having Solas in their head and dreams? How did Rook respond when Solas asked them why they should be the one to lead the Veilguard?

Did Rook think Neve was right about needing more investigation before acting or that Harding was right that there was no time to spare? What made them think that?

What did Rook decide to do with Mayor Julius of D’Meta’s crossing? Why?

How did Rook react to Harding’s new magic? Were they supportive or wary or a mix of both? 

How did Rook feel among the ancient elven magic and ruins of Arlathan? Did they find Bellara’s work disturbing or fascinating or something else?

How did Rook feel about working with a bunch of assassins, the Antivan Crows? Were they familiar with the organization, a Crow themselves, or something else? How did they feel about Lucanis, specifically about Lucanis and Spite?

How did Rook feel about the Shadow Dragons? Had they ever been to Minrathous before or just heard stories? How did Neve strike them at first?

What did Rook think of the Wardens when they met them? The First Warden? Antoine and Evka? Davrin (and his tits)? And of course, the MVP, Assan?

Did Rook choose to help Minrathous or Treviso? Why?

How did Rook feel after seeing what happened to the city they couldn’t save? Who did they talk to about it, if anyone, and how did they feel toward Neve and Lucanis in the aftermath?

Had Rook ever been to Rivain before? What were their impressions? Did they have any experience with Antaam or Qunari outside the Qun? What did they think of Taash and Shanthann?

What was Rook’s first impression of the Nevarran Necropolis? Were they interested, disturbed, or something else? What did they think of Emmrich and, most importantly, Manfred?

What did Rook think of the Inquisitor? Did they become personal friends or did they keep it professional? Who was the Inquisitor’s lover, if any, and did Rook have an opinion of that?

At the Siege of Weisshaupt, how did Rook deal with the First Warden and why?

Act 2: The Price of the Past

How did Rook react to the aftermath of Weisshaupt? Were they sad, angry, scared, all of the above, or something else? Did they blame themselves? Lucanis? The First Warden? Ghilan'nain? Who did they talk to about it, and did they show their true feelings to their companions?

Had Rook developed a romantic interest in one of their companions--or someone else!--by the time Weisshaupt fell? If so, were they eager to explore it or afraid to? Why?

Who were Rook’s closest companions, and what did they like about them? Who irritated Rook, if anyone, and how?

How did Rook respond to Davrin and Lucanis’s animosity finally boiling over? Were they sympathetic to one or the other or to both?

When Elgar’nan took the Dalish prisoners to use as sacrifices, what was Rook’s first reaction? Were they resolved, raging, sad, or some combination? Did they talk to any of their companions about it?

What was Rook’s reaction to The Butcher’s proposition to them in Treviso? Did they respect it, think it was bonkers, or something else? Did they discuss it with any of their companions after the fact?

Did Rook express concerns about Illario’s behavior to Lucanis? Did Rook encourage him to punish or to forgive Illario? Did Rook encourage Lucanis to work with Spite to save Catarina or to punish Illario? What were Rook’s impressions of Catarina both before and after her kidnapping? How did Rook feel about Lucanis becoming First Talon?

Did Rook support Bellara in her desire to save Cyrian or did they encourage her to be more forceful in stopping him immediately? Did they encourage her to keep the Nadas Dirthalen or to destroy it?

Did Rook encourage the alliance with the Threads in Dock Town? Did they encourage Neve to bring Dock Town hope or to become a darker protector-figure?

What was Rook’s reaction to the revelations about the Titans and the residual anger their downfall and exploitation at the hands of the Evanuris  left behind? Did it change how they felt about Harding’s new powers, and if so, how? Did they encourage Harding to embrace the Titan’s anger or to remember their compassionate side?

How did Rook encourage Davrin to train and interact with Assan? Did they suggest discipline or kindness or some mixture of both? What were Rook’s feelings on seeing the twisted recreation of Weisshaupt, The Profane City? How did the blighted First Warden react to seeing Rook again there? Did Rook decide the griffons should go to the Anderfels with the Wardens or stay in Arlathan as protectors of nature?

What did Rook think of Emmrich’s confession that he wanted to attain lichdom? Did their views on necromancy change as they got to know Emmrich and the Mourn Watch better? Did they encourage Emmrich to attain lichdom or to revive Manfred?

How did Taash’s journey to finding themselves strike Rook? What did Rook think of Shathann once they got to know her better? Did that change after her death? Did Rook encourage Taash to embrace their Rivaini culture or to fall back on the strength of their mother’s teachings about the Qun?

(If Rook didn’t romance Harding or Taash:) Did Rook encourage Taash to get a gift to express interest in Harding? What was it and why? How did they feel about that relationship going forward?

(If Rook didn’t romance Never or Lucanis:) How did Rook feel about Neve and Lucanis’s Romance? Did they encourage it?

(If Rook didn’t romance Emmrich:) Did Rook encourage Emmrich to take Strife to the caves or the forest on a date? How did they feel about that relationship going forward?

How did Rook deal with the friction between Taash and Emmrich? Did they encourage them to find common ground or to talk about other things? How did they feel about that relationship going forward?

Did Rook romance any of their companions after all? What was that like for them, and how did it happen? Did the other companions have an opinion?

Who did Rook feel closest to by the time they were making plans with the Inquisitor to stop the gods’ ritual at the eclipse?

Did Rook choose Davrin or Harding to lead a second team at Tearstone Island? Why? How did they feel in the aftermath of Tearstone Island about that choice? How did they honor their fallen teammate later?

Did Rook choose Neve or Bellara to take down the wards at Tearstone Island? Why? Did they regret their choice? How did they come to terms with it after?

How did Rook deal with learning they’d been magically gaslit into thinking Varric was alive all this time??????

Did Rook find the Mysterious Circles?

Did Rook find all of Solas’s regrets after the Inquisitor gave them the first? What were their reactions to the revelations about:

The Golden City/The Black City and The Chantry’s doctrine being false

Mythal convincing Solas to take a mortal form

Solas being willing to sacrifice his followers for his end goals

Ancient elves originating as spirits who took mortal form

The elves -- particularly Solas and Mythal -- killing and exploiting the Titans to win the war against them

The blight being the Titan’s lost, angry dreams

Solas regaining his power pre-Inquisition by killing Mythal’s current host

Bonus Round: Were Solas and Mythal doing it?

Mythal's essence. How did they get it from her? Was it a fight or a matter of discussion? How did they feel, meeting her?

Act 3: The Wrath of Ages

Were all Rook’s allied factions at maximum strength when they launched their attack on Elgar’nan? Which ones weren’t, and why? Did Rook favor any of them? Their own? Someone else’s?

Who did Rook choose to support the Veil Jumpers in the final battle dealing with magical wards or protecting others?

Who did Rook choose to support the Crows and the Lords of Fortune in the final battle fighting mages or attacking by surprise?

Who did Rook choose to support the Wardens and the Mourn Watch in the final battle fighting massive enemies and constructs?

Who did Rook choose to take with them for the final battle against Elgar’nan and why?

Did Rook plan to trick Solas with the fake dagger or did they think they better not risk it?

Did Morrigan give you Felassen’s Rune? How did Rook use it?

Did Rook have a lover to talk with before the final battle? How did they feel in that moment?

After defeating Elgar’nan, how did Rook deal with Solas and the veil? Was it different than they had planned? If so, why and how?

What did Rook do on the day after saving the world?

Lightning Round - AFTERMATH VERSION

Favorite scent:

Favorite food:

Favorite animal:

Favorite book or story:

Favorite drink:

Favorite item of clothing:

Favorite keepsake:

Favorite place:

Favorite person:

Favorite little treat:

[magnagaruzenmon]

Bunny Breeding

A little short piece inspired by my friend.

Tags: bunny hybrid male reader x bunny hybrid Tsuki and lioness hybrid Chowon

Tsuki arrived at your house for game night. You hadn’t seen her in weeks—not since she started working in the so-called “dungeon.” When she walked into your home, the air shifted. Gone was her usual cute and ditzy demeanor, replaced by an aura of sultry confidence. She moved like a predator who knew exactly how to corner her prey. When her eyes met yours, you felt something stir deep within—a primal instinct you didn’t even know existed. Your pulse quickened, and a wave of dizziness washed over you.

Tsuki’s eyes flicked over you, sharp and calculating, before softening with an apology. “I’m so sorry, bestie. I shouldn’t have come,” she murmured, her voice low and almost purring. Despite the words, her lips curved into a teasing smile as if daring you to protest.

You closed the distance between the two of you, your heart racing. “But we haven’t hung out in forever! Ever since you started working in that dungeon, it’s like you disappeared. I’ve missed you,” you said, the words spilling out faster than you intended. But with every step closer to her, the stirring inside you grew wilder, hotter—like something clawing to get out. Your body flushed, heat spreading from your chest to the tips of your ears, and your breath hitched.

Tsuki tilted her head, her golden-brown eyes glinting in the dim light. “You shouldn’t have missed me so much,” she said, her tone lilting, playful—and dangerous. Her gaze trailed over you, lingering just a beat too long. “It’s already starting, and if I stay... I might ruin you.”

Her words sent a jolt through you, equal parts fear and something intoxicating you couldn’t name. “What’s going on?” you asked, voice shaky but desperate to understand.

She sighed, but how her lips parted and her eyes lingered on yours made the moment feel anything but casual. “Every hybrid has... a presence inside. Something primal. It’s part of who we are, buried under our human side and locked away by sheer will. But certain things can crack that lock open.” She stepped closer, her fingers brushing against yours as if testing your reaction. Her touch left a trail of heat, and the faintest smile tugged at her lips. “When the lock breaks, we change. I’ve already changed... and now, being near me unlocks yours.”

Your thoughts raced, overwhelmed by her words, her presence, the sheer magnetism rolling off her in waves. “Is that... bad?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

Tsuki’s grin deepened as she took another step closer, her hand trailing up to brush a strand of hair from your face. Her touch lingered just long enough to make your knees feel weak. “That depends,” she said, her voice honeyed and rich with mischief. Her eyes gleamed as her lips curled into a devilish smirk. “How close do you feel to your bunny?”

She leaned in, her breath brushing against your ear. “Because mine’s very close to the surface. And she’s dying to play.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, every nerve in your body suddenly alive. Tsuki pulled back just enough to lock eyes with you, her lips inches from yours, daring you to respond. Your mind broke as you felt your instincts overwhelm your mind. You brought Tsuki in for a deep desperate and messy kiss. Her tongue danced with yours for a bit causing you to thrust into her involuntarily. Tsuki gasps before wrapping her hands around your face. She smiles and then says,

“Do you feel the rush? Every single part of you dialed into 11. The need to breed endlessly?” Tsuki says before your eyes roll back. You feel something inside you hiss as your eyes come back into focus. Tsuki’s sultry smile greets you as you begin to strip.

Taking the hint she follows suit taking off her white sweater and revealing her lithe form. You salivate as you take your cock out. You’re unbelievably hard for her and you barely stop long enough to get a couple of strokes in before Tsuki as she stares at your cock hungrily. You two take a moment as the lust ferments between the two of you until you mount Tsuki.

“Such a big bunny!” She gasps as she feels your cock kiss her cervix. Tsuki begins to ride you and something inside you just breaks. You growl as your eyes dilate. Feeling the need to mark Tsuki you lean forward and lightly suck on her collar.

"Oh does my big bunny wanna mark me?" Tsuki said as her walls clenched your cock. You moan uncontrollably as she bounces up and down riding you until you can't take anymore and you cum inside her. You groan as your orgasm seems unending, but eventually it subsides. However, you can't stop, as your cock doesn't go soft, and your lust spikes again. Tsuki moans as her eyes level with yours. She sees your half-lidded eyes and she comes,

"Oh did I break your little bunny mind." your ears twitch as you keep thrusting into Tsuki who's surprised at your vigor.

"Oh my bunny still has energy?" she asks you groaning as you thrust into her tight walls. Tsuki moans uncontrollably as she feels your cock continue to kiss her cervix. Unable to stop you keep fucking Tsuki.

One orgasm turns 2, two orgasms turn into 4, and four orgasms turn into 8. eventually, Tsuki passes out. On your cock after the 8th orgasm for her. She moans deliriously before passing out, but you're still hard. You fucking groan in anger, but you are a respectful hybrid and so you tuck a passed-out Tsuki into your bed and let her rest for the night.

After doing so you stare at your hard cock. It hasn't gone down in three hours. You sigh as it throbs violently. You need more. you remember a story your friend told you about how lioness hybrids when in their heats, need to mate 100 times.

After railing Tsuki to unconsciousness you find yourself still hard. You need more. You start stroking yourself off to hopefully ease the ache but it doesn't. You need more. You need more.

You decided to call your lioness hybrid fwb, hoping she can ease this emptiness you feel.

Chowon sees your call surprised. answers and is surprised when she hears, “Mommy I need you.” you whimper. Chowon responded to your pleas with

“Does my bunny need his mommy?” she teases and you barely whimper out a yes. Chowon licks her lips at your neediness “I'm coming bunny,” she says.

You whimper helplessly as you wait. Your body and nerves are on fire as you try to fight your unrelenting arousal about 30 minutes later Chowon arrives. She is beset by the scent of your arousal. It's wildly different to her than normal, usually to her you smell light and faint but now it's intense as if you're going through a rut. She feels her become drenched as she opens the door. She’s surprised to see you open it naked and your cock harder and bigger than she’s used to seeing it.

“Fuck bunny what’s gotten into you?” she asks as she kisses you.

“Tsuki!” “She broke me, and I can't stop,” you say as you drag the lioness hybrid into your home. As she enters she notices your scent intensify 100-fold. As she is surrounded by your arousal, which you barely contain you kiss and mewl into her nipping at her collarbone and grinding into her. Overwhelmed Chowon stops you by slowly rubbing your ears. The sensitivity gets to you as you cum immediately. Chowon smiles hoping to calm you down but it only further breaks your mind. All you can think about is sex and no matter how hard you try to focus your body just screams at you to breed.

Chowon barely has time to take off her sex jacket before you are back on her again.

You knead her firm buoyant breasts and as you do Chowon is overtaken by your scent and goes into heat. She lowers herself down to your cock and smiles as she strokes you.

“You're so hard for me bunny. I guess I'm the only one who can satisfy you,” she teases before wrapping her bountiful breasts around your manhood. You groan as she slowly works her tits around your shaft. Up and down they go driving you crazy with pleasure, but it's not enough you need to be inside of her cunt fucking her full until she's pregnant with your litter.

So you lift Chowon into a full Nelson (much to her surprise) and you gently ram into her. Her lioness tail wraps around you as she moans grateful at being full. She's lost in the pleasure as you pound her aggressively tight cunt. You can barely take as you cum again, and again and again before your mind fully leaves you.

By the time you finally regained sense you and Chowon were covered in each other's cum. As you move from the couch Tsuki walks in and says,

“Well, how does it feel” you growl as your cock hardens again and you say,

“Fucking fantasy now bend over,”

[sturnsblogs]

FRIENDS DONT DO THAT

Fratboy!Chris X Toxic!fwb!reader

—

Being friends with Chris is… weird.

Weird because he still knows the passcode to your apartment, and uses it without hesitation.

Weird because he still wears your hair tie on his wrist sometimes and pretends like he doesn’t notice.

Weird because when you’re walking next to him, he still moves to the outside of the sidewalk like it’s instinct.

Weird because sometimes you catch him staring. Like he forgot for a second that you’re just friends now.

He doesn’t say much when it happens, just looks away and clears his throat or starts talking about something random—like the weather or how his lighter keeps acting up.

But you see it.

It’s in the way he still brings you coffee the way you like it. In the way he still opens the car door for you without even thinking.

And it’s in the way he slips sometimes.

Like earlier this week—he called you “baby.”

Not in a teasing way. Not in a joking way.

It was soft. Automatic.

You froze.

He didn’t even realize it until after.

“Shit. I mean—Y/N. My bad.”

You didn’t say anything. Just gave a tight smile and looked out the window.

Then there was that time you wore his hoodie again—not on purpose, you just threw it on because it smelled like him and you were cold—and he didn’t say a word the entire night. Just stared at you like he was trying to remember how to breathe.

Or when you went to a party, and some guy was clearly flirting with you, hand dangerously close to your waist.

Chris didn’t say anything, didn’t make a scene.

But later that night, he texted you:

“Didn’t know we were bringing randoms into our spot.”

And then followed it up with:

“Whatever. Have fun.”

Or like that night two weeks ago when he texted you:

“Come over? Miss you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

You stared at the screen too long, thumb hovering, not sure what to do with it—

And then, two minutes later, he followed up with:

“Nvm. Wrong person. mb.”

Wrong person?

Chris didn’t even talk to other girls. Not like that.

But you didn’t ask. You just left him on read and curled tighter into your blanket, pretending it didn’t ruin your night.

Or that time you actually went on a date—a real one. With someone sweet. Normal. He picked you up on time, complimented your dress, made you laugh. You even posted a picture of your dessert on your story.

An hour later, Chris was blowing up your phone:

Chris: “Dude’s a player. Just letting you know.”

Chris: “Saw him at a party last weekend. He was all over some girl.”

Chris: “Do whatever u want tho. Not my business.”

You didn’t even respond. Because you knew what it was—jealousy disguised as “looking out.”

And he always does that.

Like when he said he couldn’t hang out that one night, but then you saw him repost your pic from two years ago on his private story. Just a blurry one of you in his hoodie, the caption:

“LMAO remember this?”

No one else would’ve known it was you.

But you did.

You knew that was his way of saying he missed you.

Or when he picked you up from that party when you were tipsy and giggling in the passenger seat, and you accidentally leaned into his side. His arm instinctively wrapped around you.

You whispered, “You smell the same.”

He whispered, “You don’t.”

It was quiet after that.

He still calls you “princess” sometimes, too.

And then immediately follows it with,

“I mean—dude. Whatever your name is now.”

But it’s always in that same voice. The one that sounds like home.

And the worst part?

You let it slide.

Because some part of you—no matter how small—still wants to be his.

So yeah… being friends with Chris is weird.

Because every now and then, it still feels like you’re his.

And every now and then, it still feels like he’s yours.

But neither of you are saying it.

Because friends don’t say that kind of shit. Right?

—

A/N- i wanted to write chris being a sub but @sunrisemill told me to drag it

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset @lezleeferguson-120 @bells-sturn @sturniolosymphony @kenziesturniolo54 @kikirasweatsweathoho @emely9274 @cherryystemm @realuvrrr @zenithsturniolo @kier-with-a-k @eeyoresturnz @elizasturn @ribread03 @sturnslux3 @costalgirlyr @pizzapocketpocketpizza @arianna1342 @mattsplaything @ed1tssturnn @ivysturnss

[writingpandagoth]

Summary:

After the war, Severus Snape expects nothing but silence and solitude—until you. Gentle, unafraid, and quietly unwavering, you don’t try to fix him… you simply stay.   (Inspired by the song Ordinary by Alex warren.)

Ordinary

They say, 'The holy water's watered down  And this town's lost its faith   Our colors will fade eventually  

The castle was quieter now. Not in the absence-of-students sort of way, but in the way a place becomes after too much grief has soaked into the stone. Even the portraits had fallen into a gentler hush, as if they too were mourning something long gone.

Severus Snape walked the corridors like a man suspended between realities—alive, yet not truly living. His robes trailed behind him in silence, his gaze fixed just above the heads of anyone who passed. He rarely spoke unless forced to. Rarely ate. He wasn’t so much present as tolerated—by the castle, by the staff, by himself.

They had let him come back, astonishingly. Perhaps because he had survived. Perhaps because no one else knew what to do with him. Perhaps because Albus would’ve wanted it.

In the dim light of the staffroom, he poured himself tea without tasting it. The clink of his spoon was the loudest sound in the room. That was, until you entered.

You didn’t announce yourself. Didn’t even seem to notice the way every space you stepped into subtly shifted. You simply moved quietly, confidently, like someone who didn’t need to fill the silence to be seen.

He didn't speak. He never did. But you smiled at him anyway.

Not out of politeness. Not in pity. Just… a smile. Like the kind someone might give a bird perched on a snowy windowsill. Quiet recognition. A softness untouched by expectation.

He held your gaze for a moment too long—and then returned to his tea.

You sat across the room, a book in your hands and a blanket draped over your knees. You said nothing. Made no effort to engage him.

Yet somehow, Severus felt less alone than he had in months.

The book in your hands was old—he could tell by the fraying spine, the way you thumbed its edge like it was an old friend. Not many people handled books like that anymore. He wondered briefly what you were reading, but the question never made it to his lips.

Instead, he watched you out of the corner of his eye. Observed the ease with which you breathed in the silence, unbothered by it. You didn’t fidget. Didn’t glance around in search of company or conversation. You simply… were.

It made something restless in his chest still for the first time in days.

A small group of students passed the doorway, laughter trailing in like the last breeze of summer. He tensed instinctively, but they didn’t notice him. Of course they didn’t. Most of them had stopped seeing him the way people stop noticing the cobwebs in a forgotten corner—there, but untouched.

“Professor Snape,” one younger student murmured respectfully as he passed. No sneer. No fear. Just a name.

He gave a barely perceptible nod in return.

You looked up briefly, your eyes following the boy’s retreating steps before shifting back to your book. Still, you said nothing.

But Severus felt your attention linger like a brush of warmth across cold skin.

It unsettled him.

He stood abruptly and moved to the window, the steam from his teacup rising in thin curls. The sky was heavy with clouds. Somewhere, far away, he thought he heard thunder. Or maybe it was just the wind pressing against the old glass.

Behind him, the chair creaked as you shifted—stretching, maybe, or curling deeper into your seat.

“I didn’t expect to love the quiet this much,” you said softly, voice low, not meant to intrude.

He didn’t respond.

You didn’t expect him to.

There was something strange about it. Your presence. It wasn’t light exactly—you didn’t sparkle or glow or fill a room with false cheer. But you made the silence feel like something you could rest in. Something alive, instead of empty.

And that… bothered him. Because for the first time in a very long while, Severus Snape wasn’t sure if he wanted to be alone.

 

So if our time is runnin' out Day after day  We'll make the mundane our masterpiece

 

it started with tea, a week later.

Not conversation, not glances—just tea.

Every morning, the staff room held the same quiet ritual. Steam rising from mismatched cups, the faint rustle of the Daily Prophet, the soft clink of spoons stirring sugar. And every morning, you were there. Not in his space. Not demanding. Just present.

Sometimes you brought a biscuit or a slice of spiced bread, always set neatly beside your own tea without offering. You never asked if he wanted one, never forced politeness. But once, when he arrived earlier than usual, there were two biscuits on your napkin.

He took one.

You didn’t look up from your book.

That was how it began.

Over the next few days, you passed like ships in a fog—soft glances, occasional nods. Nothing direct. Nothing verbal.

But you sat near him now, not across the room. Close enough that he could hear the page turns of your book, the tiny hum in your throat when you were deep in thought. Some days you would knit or write with your legs curled under you, like you had always belonged in that chair.

You never asked him questions.

You never filled the air with noise.

You just sat. With him. Like he wasn’t a monster. Like his silence wasn’t something to be solved.

It wasn’t until one particularly dreary Thursday that he realized how much he had come to expect your presence.

He entered the room, slightly damp from the drizzle outside, and felt something strange tighten in his chest when your chair was empty.

No blanket. No book. No quiet smile.

He stood there, teacup in hand, unsure why the room suddenly felt colder.

He was halfway through steeping his tea when the door creaked open and you slipped in, cheeks flushed from wind, hair damp with mist.

“Morning,” you said softly, already moving to your usual chair.

He didn’t answer.

But when he sat beside you, he placed a second biscuit on your napkin.

You blinked down at it in surprise, then looked at him with something unreadable in your expression—warm, perhaps. Or maybe… grateful.

You said nothing.

Neither did he.

But the silence between you no longer felt empty.

It felt like a masterpiece in the making.

 

Oh my, my  Oh my, my love  I take one look at you

 

it was a few weeks later when he saw it.

Severus didn’t mean to look.

It wasn’t an intentional thing—just a glance as he walked past an open classroom door. But what he saw made him pause in the corridor, just beyond the line of sight.

You were kneeling beside a small first-year, your voice low, hands still. Not touching, not pushing—just present. The boy’s lip trembled, wand clutched too tightly in his grip. Whatever had happened, he looked on the verge of tears. But you didn’t crowd him. You waited. Let him breathe.

And then you smiled.

Not the polite smile you offered the staff. Not the knowing one you sometimes gave Severus when your eyes met across the staff room. This was something different—bright and warm and completely unguarded. Like sunlight through a frosted window.

The boy let out a shaky breath and nodded. You whispered something Severus couldn’t hear, and the boy smiled back before scurrying off with a slightly steadier step.

You stood slowly, brushing off your robes, and looked toward the hallway.

He moved before you could see him.

Back into the shadows, away from the vulnerability curling in his chest like smoke.

Later, you joined him in the staff room. Tea. Blanket. Book.

As always.

You didn’t speak, but your presence wrapped around him like a memory he couldn’t quite chase away.

He glanced over without thinking.

Your hair was tucked behind one ear, fingers curled lightly around your teacup. Your lips moved silently as you read—soft, careful enunciations. You had a small ink smudge near your thumb, and the edge of your boot tapped absently against the chair leg.

You were… unremarkable. Ordinary.

And he couldn’t stop looking.

For the first time in so long, he noticed the way his heart felt in his chest. The way it pulled just slightly toward you, like gravity, like instinct. And he hated that it felt fragile. Exposed.

You looked up suddenly, and your eyes met.

You didn’t speak. Just smiled.

That same, quiet smile you’d always given him.

But this time, it felt different. Not like politeness. Not like recognition.

This time, it felt like invitation.

He looked away first.

But not before you saw it—the flicker of something he hadn't let show before.

And for the first time since the war, something bloomed in Severus’s chest that wasn’t sorrow.

 

You're takin' me out of the ordinary  I want you layin' me down 'til we're dead and buried

 

Only after a few days he was starting to sit closer.

It wasn’t intentional—at least, that’s what he told himself. The staffroom was small, after all. Your usual seat was by the fire, and there weren’t many chairs near it. It only made sense to sit beside you.

That’s what he told himself the first day.

And the next.

And the day after that.

But he never sat anywhere else now.

You never commented on it. Never shifted away. If you noticed, you gave no sign. Only poured your tea, opened your book, and let him be.

But the distance between you had shrunk, and Severus could feel it.

He felt it in the brush of your sleeves when you reached for the teapot at the same time. In the way your knee nearly touched his when you crossed your legs in the chair. In the faint scent of lavender and parchment that clung to your robes.

It was maddening.

Not because it was loud or invasive. Quite the opposite.

It was quiet. Soft. Like a whisper he couldn't unhear.

In the library one evening, he found you sitting on the floor in a corner alcove—legs tucked under you, parchment spread out around your knees, ink smudged on your finger again. You looked up when you saw him. Smiled.

He said nothing, but paused.

You looked back down, returning to your notes. No invitation, no expectation.

Still, his feet moved before his mind gave permission.

He sat down beside you.

The stone was cold against his legs, the air sharp with winter’s early breath, but your presence warmed the space between you.

You didn’t speak, and neither did he. But when your hand reached out to pass him a spare roll of parchment, your fingers touched.

Just barely.

Barely—but it was enough to send a current down his spine.

He didn’t pull away.

Neither did you.

And when you went back to your scribbling, your shoulder nearly brushed his.

It should have been uncomfortable.

Instead, it felt like a quiet kind of gravity.

He left before you did. Didn’t say goodbye.

But that night, for the first time in years, Severus Snape lay in bed and imagined the sound of someone breathing beside him.

Not in lust. Not in fantasy.

In peace.

 

On the edge of your knife, stayin' drunk on your vine The angels up in the clouds are jealous, knowin' we found

 

It was raining.

The kind of steady, rhythmic drizzle that made the castle feel wrapped in cotton—soft, muffled, private. The fireplaces were glowing brighter now. The stone walls had a chill to them that clung to skin and sank into bones.

He found you in the courtyard.

Why you were out there in the cold, he didn’t know. Your cloak was drawn tight, your hair damp with mist, your fingers curled around a steaming mug. You were standing beneath the arched overhang, watching the drops fall into the stone basin at the center of the courtyard garden.

You didn’t flinch when he approached.

Didn’t speak. Just lifted your mug in greeting, then looked back toward the rain.

He stood beside you.

Close.

Closer than usual.

The silence stretched—comfortable, then weighted, then thick. The kind of quiet that rang with everything unsaid.

“You always find the still places,” he murmured before he could stop himself.

You looked at him. Not startled. Not surprised.

Just… seen.

“Maybe I just recognize stillness when I see it,” you said softly, voice warm as the mug in your hands.

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

You turned your gaze back to the water, and he allowed himself—just briefly—to look at you. Really look.

You weren’t beautiful in a way that demanded attention. You weren’t gilded or painted or wrapped in honeyed charm.

But there was something in your stillness that undid him.

Something sacred.

Something dangerous.

His fingers curled into his palm.

You turned again—slowly—and met his eyes.

The tension between you was delicate, fragile. Like the surface of a bubble catching sunlight. One wrong move and it would burst.

But you didn’t reach for him. Didn’t ask.

You just stood there.

Near enough for him to feel the heat radiating from your skin. Near enough to kiss you, if he wanted to.

And Merlin help him… he wanted to.

Instead, he stepped back.

Barely. Just enough for the cold to settle between you again.

You didn’t follow.

Didn’t flinch.

Just smiled. Softly. Almost sadly.

And he hated himself for the part of him that wanted you to reach for him anyway.

That night, he dreamt of you again.

Not in a way that left him breathless or shamed.

Just… quiet. Your fingers tangled with his. Your breath on his chest. The silence between you.

He woke with your name on the tip of his tongue and a yearning that felt like it might hollow him out.

 

Somethin' so out of the ordinary You got me kissin' the ground of your sanctuary

 

The castle was asleep.

Even the portraits had gone still, their snores muffled by thick stone and years of dust. Moonlight streamed through narrow windows, casting long shadows across the hallway floors.

He wasn’t sure what woke him.

A sound. A memory. A ghost.

The dreams had returned—fragments of screams, of blood, of choices he couldn’t take back. They clung to him like fog, cold and choking, and when he sat upright in bed, his chest ached with the weight of things unsaid.

He didn’t scream. He never did.

He just… broke, silently.

Like he always had.

You were awake when he found you.

In the tiny corner of the library you often claimed after curfew—wrapped in a blanket, knees drawn to your chest, a half-empty cup of tea forgotten at your side.

You didn’t look surprised to see him.

You didn’t ask why he was there.

Just shifted wordlessly, making room beside you on the bench.

Severus stood frozen for a moment, breath still uneven, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles ached. The part of him that wanted to walk away—the old voice, sharp and bitter and defensive—was screaming.

But you didn’t speak.

You just… waited.

Like you always had.

So he sat.

The bench was narrow, and your sides pressed together, shoulder to thigh. You didn’t pull away.

And when his hands began to tremble—just barely—you reached out and laced your fingers with his.

He didn’t stop you.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

You didn’t say it’s okay or you’re safe. You didn’t ask questions or offer pity.

You simply leaned your head against his shoulder and held on.

As if he was worth holding.

As if you’d do it again.

And again.

And again.

His breath hitched once—just once—and then he exhaled. Slowly. Raggedly.

Then, hesitantly, he leaned into you.

Not fully. Not yet.

But enough.

Enough that you could feel the way he clung—not with arms, but with need.

You stayed that way for a long time. Long enough for the nightmare to fade. Long enough for his pulse to settle.

Long enough for him to begin to believe—maybe—that this could be something holy.

That you were something holy.

And he had found sanctuary.

 

Shatter me with your touch, oh Lord, return me to dust The angels up in the clouds are jealous, knowin' we found

 

The next days that followed were almost like a blur.

He didn’t expect it to feel like this.

The weight of your hand against his—gentle, calm, human—shouldn’t have left such a mark. But now he noticed everything. The shape of your presence. The way you moved, quiet and certain. The warmth of your body when you sat beside him, the scent of vanilla in your hair.

And the worst part—the best part—was that you never tried to force closeness. You never chased. You never asked.

You just waited.

Always near. Always open.

And somehow, that was what broke him.

It happened in the corridor.

A group of students had passed you, laughing too loudly, running to dinner. One brushed too close, bumping your shoulder and nearly knocking the books from your arms.

You stumbled slightly.

Before he even realized what he was doing, his hand was on your waist, steadying you.

You looked up.

And something in his chest cracked wide open.

Because your face was close—too close. And you were looking at him like you knew. Like you had always known. And you didn’t pull away.

Neither did he.

His fingers lingered. Your breath hitched.

Then slowly, your hand came up, brushing against the back of his.

It wasn’t dramatic.

It wasn’t grand.

But it was enough to make his heart slam against his ribs.

Enough to shatter him.

That night, he sat in his quarters with a half-full cup of tea growing cold in his hand.

He stared into the fire, but all he could see was you.

The look in your eyes. The way your fingers had brushed his, like a whisper meant only for him. Like your touch had been stitched together by every quiet moment you’d shared. Every time you hadn’t walked away.

He pressed his hand to his chest, as if he could hold the memory there—where it might be safe.

And maybe—just maybe—if you touched him again, he wouldn’t turn to dust.

He’d turn into something new.

 

Hopeless hallelujah  On this side of Heaven's gate  

He wasn’t sure what drew him to your office that night.

The door was open, as it often was in the late evenings. A soft candle glowed on your desk, casting long shadows over the walls. The fire flickered low, and the room smelled faintly of dried herbs and vanilla.

You were seated in your usual chair, legs tucked beneath you, a book resting on one thigh. You didn’t startle when he stepped in. You didn’t speak.

You simply lifted your eyes… and waited.

That was what undid him.

He stepped inside, slow and unsure, as if each step might break him. He didn’t know what he meant to say—not really. Only that something inside him ached, and it had nowhere else to go.

You closed the book without a sound and patted the armchair across from you.

He sat.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The fire cracked. A clock ticked somewhere beyond the bookshelf.

Then quietly—like it cost him something—he said:

“I am the reason she is dead.”

The words fell like ash between you.

Still, you said nothing. Didn’t ask who. Didn’t press. You only looked at him—really looked—and waited.

“And when I became a spy I told myself it was for the greater good. That it was war. That I was playing a role.” He swallowed, jaw tight. “But I...After Dumbledore...”

His hands were clenched in his lap, pale and trembling.

“I’ve spent every moment since trying to earn back something I never had the right to claim.”

He didn’t cry. He never did.

But the silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was heavy with breath, with the unsaid, with the ache of truth finally spoken.

And then—then—you moved.

Not with words. Not with platitudes.

Just quietly rose, stepped around the desk, and sat on the floor in front of him. You reached for his hands. Took them gently, as if you were holding something sacred.

He didn’t pull away.

He couldn’t.

“It's not about what you chose,” you whispered. “It's about what you carried. And how you kept walking despite believing you are not worthy of it. That's what I care about. Why I care so deeply about you.”

His breath caught.

You didn’t kiss him. Didn’t lean forward.

You just held his hands and let him breathe.

And in that quiet, something in him settled.

Not forgiven.

Not erased.

But… held.

Later, you would fall asleep in the armchair beside him, knees drawn up, your head tipped against the cushion.

He watched you in the firelight, and for the first time in years, Severus Snape looked at someone and thought:

Maybe I won’t be alone forever.

Oh, my life, how do ya Breathe and take my breath away?

 

You were laughing.

Not loud, not wild—just the quiet, breathless kind that slipped past your lips like wind through trees. It happened while you were walking with a group of third-years through the courtyard, one of them animatedly retelling a story that was clearly exaggerated, complete with wild hand gestures and dramatic sighs.

And you were laughing.

Severus hadn’t meant to watch. He’d only been walking past the upper hallway window, heading toward his classroom, tea cooling in his hand. But he stopped.

Just for a moment.

Just long enough to see.

Your head was tilted back slightly, eyes warm, lips parted. Your hand was pressed gently over your chest, like you were trying to contain the feeling and couldn’t. The students around you smiled too—at you, not just with you.

And Severus Snape, who had spent years trying to quiet his own heartbeat, suddenly forgot how to breathe.

Later, in the staff room, he sat beside you as always. You didn’t speak much. He liked it that way. But this time, you noticed his eyes lingering.

He didn’t look away fast enough.

“What?” you asked, quiet and amused, setting your book aside.

His mouth opened—and then closed again. He shook his head.

You tilted yours slightly, a soft smile curving at the corner of your mouth.

“You look like someone who’s about to say something,” you teased gently.

“I don’t… often watch people,” he said, more honest than he meant to be. “But you—” He paused, throat tight. “You make it difficult not to.”

You blinked once.

Then twice.

And instead of laughing or brushing it off, you reached out and nudged the edge of his tea mug with your finger—lightly, almost absently.

“I like being watched by you. You have so much warmth in your eyes” you murmured, so quietly he almost didn’t catch it. “It makes me feel safe.”

And just like that—without moving, without touching, without anything but that one, quiet truth—

Severus forgot how to breathe again.

You returned to your book as if nothing had been said. But your foot bumped gently against his under the table, and when he didn’t pull away, you left it there.

And for the rest of the afternoon, the silence between you pulsed like a heartbeat.

At your altar, I will pray You're the sculptor, I'm the clay

 

It was nearly midnight.

The halls were empty, the world wrapped in stillness. Severus stood outside your office door, unmoving, hand poised to knock—and yet he didn’t.

The door was slightly ajar. The soft glow of candlelight spilled into the hallway like a silent invitation.

He didn’t knock.

He stepped inside.

You were curled on the couch, a blanket around your shoulders, bare feet tucked beneath you. A book lay closed on the cushion beside you, your gaze already lifted toward him.

You didn’t look startled.

Only expectant.

Only calm.

He closed the door behind him. The latch clicked, loud in the quiet.

You sat up slightly, your blanket slipping down to your elbows.

He didn’t know where to start.

So you waited. Of course you did.

“You’ve…” He paused, jaw clenching. “You’ve changed something in me.”

A soft hum in your throat. You didn’t interrupt.

He took a breath.

“I’ve spent most of my life… folding myself into corners. Into shadows. And even after the war, when the world stopped needing me to vanish—I still did. Until you.”

Your brows furrowed faintly.

“You don’t ask me to be anything,” he continued, voice low, rough. “You don’t expect… apologies. Confessions. Explanations.”

Your lips parted, but you still didn’t speak.

“You see me,” he said. “And for some reason… that doesn’t terrify me anymore.”

You moved then—slowly, carefully—as if not to startle him. Your hand reached out, fingers brushing lightly against his sleeve. A touch that asked permission, not possession.

He didn’t flinch.

“I see you,” you said softly, “because I want to. And I stay because you let me.”

His heart was pounding—too loud in his chest, in his ears, in the spaces between you.

“I don’t know what to do with that,” he whispered.

“You don’t have to do anything,” you replied, your thumb now brushing the inside of his wrist. “You just have to be.”

Silence.

A breath.

Then his hand lifted—tentative, trembling—and he cupped your cheek.

You leaned into it. Without hesitation. Without fear.

And when he bent his head toward you, when his lips met yours for the first time, it was not a claiming.

It was a prayer.

Soft. Trembling. Sacred.

The kind that didn’t ask for answers.

Only peace.

Only presence.

Only you.

And when you pulled apart, your forehead resting against his, he whispered:

“You are the only thing I’ve ever wanted to worship.”

 

Oh my, my You're takin' me out of the ordinary I want you layin' me down 'til we're dead and buried

 

The world didn’t shift.

There were no fireworks. No triumphant orchestral swell.

But when you opened your doorOnly two days later and found him standing there—wet from rain, hair clinging to his cheeks, eyes dark with something deeper than longing—you didn’t need anything else.

You stepped aside. Let him in. Closed the door behind you.

He didn’t speak.

He just looked at you. Like he was memorizing your face all over again.

Like this moment was the one he’d return to if everything else fell apart.

And then he moved—slowly, reverently—and kissed you again.

Not soft, not this time.

This kiss held weight. Want. Worship.

It was a promise sealed with breath.

You held onto him like you’d always meant to—fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, grounding him.

He touched you like you were something he wasn’t sure he deserved but refused to let go of now that he had you. His hands found your waist, your back, the curve of your neck. Everything sacred. Everything yours.

And when you moved to the bedroom—fingers trembling, hearts racing—there was no rush.

Just time.

Time to feel.

Time to stay.

Time to let himself be loved without fear of it slipping through his fingers.

Later, the rain still whispered against the windows, but inside… there was only quiet.

You lay beside him, one hand against his chest, your breath steady.

And Severus stared at the ceiling like he’d never seen it before.

“Tell me this is real,” he whispered, the words foreign on his tongue.

You shifted, kissed his jaw gently.

“It’s real,” you murmured. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

He turned then—propped on one elbow, eyes locked to yours.

“If this is what forever feels like,” he said, voice low and hoarse, “I want it. All of it. With you.”

No hesitation.

No fear.

Only you.

Only always.

 

On the edge of your knife, stayin' drunk on your vine The angels up in the clouds are jealous, knowin' we found

 

Severus had never known quiet like this.

Not the kind filled with solitude, or grief, or shadow—but a silence that wrapped itself around his bones like warmth. Like safety. Like belonging.

You lay across his chest, one hand drawing lazy patterns over his ribs, breath steady. The fire across the room crackled softly, casting gold over your skin. And he… watched.

He couldn’t help it.

There was something in the way you existed when you thought he wasn’t watching. The way your lips parted slightly when you were sleepy. The way you hummed when you were content. The way your fingers always sought out skin—even in sleep.

You were a thousand quiet moments that stitched themselves into his soul.

And he was utterly drunk on you.

You didn’t speak much that day.

You didn’t need to.

You moved through the castle together in perfect rhythm—his coat brushing yours as you walked, hands grazing but not always holding, glances shared like secrets.

You made tea. He reached around you to grab mugs. Your bodies touched in the smallest ways—in the kitchen, on the couch, beside the window—and every time it happened, it lit something in him that made it hard to breathe.

That night, you read by the fire. He sat beside you, his hand resting on your knee, fingers idle.

You looked up at him, catching him mid-thought.

“What?” you whispered, voice dipped in candlelight.

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he leaned forward—resting his forehead against yours.

“You’ve undone me,” he murmured.

You smiled gently. “Good.”

And then—so softly he almost missed it—you added:

“I want you like this. Always. Messy. Unfiltered. Yours.”

His breath caught.

And then he kissed you again. Slow. Deep.

Like a man starved for something only you could give.

And when he pulled back, eyes still closed, he whispered:

“Thank you.”

 

Somethin' so out (out) of the ordinary (ordinary) You got me kissin' the ground (ground) of your sanctuary (sanctuary)

 

It was a letter that came nearly a year later.

Severus had returned from a late afternoon class, shoulders tight with tension, robes damp from the rain that had rolled in out of nowhere. The castle was dim, lit only by wall sconces and the dusky blue-grey of early evening.

He didn’t expect to find you waiting in his quarters.

You were seated on the edge of the armchair, hands folded, face calm—but there was something about your stillness that made him pause in the doorway.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice lower than usual.

You looked up at him—steady, quiet.

“There’s been an inquiry,” you said softly. “About you.”

The words hit harder than they should’ve. He stiffened. Cold.

“Who—?”

“I don’t know. An outside board. Political. It sounds like someone wants to dig up the past again.” Your voice was careful. Gentle. “But I took care of it.”

He blinked.

“What do you mean, you took care of it?”

You stood, walking slowly toward him. Not defensive. Not triumphant. Just… open.

“I gave a written statement,” you said. “Told them what you’ve done since the war. What you’ve been to this school. To the students. To me.”

He stared at you.

“You gave them your name?” he asked, breath caught between fury and fear.

“I gave them my truth, Severus,” you said, gently but firmly. “I told them you saved more than lives during the war. You’ve saved hearts after it.”

You reached for his hand. Took it. Pressed it between both of yours.

“I didn’t do it to protect you,” you said. “You don’t need protecting.”

His throat was tight. His pulse unsteady.

“I did it because I love you. And I’ll tell the whole bloody world if that’s what it takes.”

He didn’t speak.

Couldn’t.

He just looked at you—at the softness of you, the strength, the choice you made so willingly.

And then, slowly, he dropped to his knees.

Not in shame.

Not in weakness.

But in reverence.

You gasped softly, reaching for him—but he just wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head against your stomach. Holding on.

And for the first time, he let it show. All of it. The fear. The awe. The love.

Your arms wrapped around him.

Held him like he was something worth holding.

And in that moment, Severus Snape loved you not in silence. Not in shadow.

But in full, aching surrender.

His sanctuary.

His everything.

 

Shatter me with your touch, oh Lord, return me to dust The angels up in the clouds are jealous, knowin' we found

 

The fire was low.

Not crackling—just glowing. Like a heart still beating after a long, aching day.

You reached for him first this time.

Your fingers brushing the side of his neck, tracing the line of his jaw, resting over the pulse that fluttered just beneath his skin.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t need to.

Because when he looked at you now, it wasn’t with hunger or hesitation.

It was with reverence.

And when he kissed you, it was slow. So slow.

Not because he was unsure—but because he wanted to remember everything. The taste of your breath. The tremble of your fingers. The way you exhaled like he was something holy.

You undressed him gently.

Not like you were removing armor.

Like you were freeing him.

And he let you.

Let you trace the scars. The old ones. The new ones. The ones no one else had ever dared to touch.

And when you kissed the curve of his shoulder, the hollow beneath his collarbone, the place just over his heart—

He broke.

No sound. No cry.

Just the slow, shattering realization that he had never, in all his years, been touched like this.

Like he was cherished.

Your bodies moved together in silence. No demands. No desperation.

Only a rhythm that felt like breath.

Like life.

Like home.

You held his face as he trembled above you. Whispered his name like a prayer.

And when he buried his face into your neck, gasping, lost, found—you wrapped your arms around him like a vow.

“I love you,” you whispered.

No question. No hesitation.

And for once… he believed it.

For once… he let it in.

Afterward, you lay tangled in sheets and each other, skin to skin, soul to soul.

He was quiet. But not the haunted quiet.

The kind that comes after a storm when the world is washed clean.

Your fingers ran through his hair, slow and steady.

And when he finally spoke, it was a whisper:

“Whatever is left of me… it’s yours. I love you”

 

Somethin' so heavenly, higher than ecstasy Whenever you're next to me, oh my, my

 

Sunlight filtered through the window, warm and golden and impossibly kind.

It bathed the room in soft light, catching on the folds of the blanket pulled halfway down your back, the way your hair spilled across the pillow, the curve of your shoulder beneath his arm.

Severus had never lingered like this before.

This was something else entirely.

He was still here.

And so were you.

You stirred slowly, as though waking up in a dream, and blinked up at him with sleepy eyes and the faintest smile.

“Good morning,” you said, your voice rough with sleep.

He could have sworn his heart ached at the sound.

“Is it?” he murmured.

You stretched, your foot brushing against his beneath the covers.

“It is now.”

You didn’t leave bed for hours.

You stole the blanket. He grumbled and stole it back. You laughed—really laughed—and he couldn't stop staring. Your laughter wasn’t loud or wild. It was soft, breathy, like honey and fresh air.

“You’re staring again,” you teased, cheeks pink, hair a perfect storm.

“I’m allowed,” he said. “You’re mine.”

You blinked at that—slow, stunned—and then reached for his hand under the sheets, lacing your fingers.

“I’ve been yours since the first time you screamed at me with silence.”

He huffed. “Romantic.”

“The most.”

Later, when you finally dragged yourselves into the kitchen, you made food while he leaned against the doorframe watching you. Hair messy. His shirt on still half-buttoned. Eyes filled with warmth.

You looked like forever.

And when you turned to ask him what tea he wanted, he caught your wrist and pulled you into him.

Kissed your forehead.

Then your cheek.

Then your mouth—slow and warm and impossibly whole.

You smiled against his lips.

“Hi.”

He breathed out a laugh. “Hi.”

And for the first time in a very long time, Severus Snape wasn’t waiting for the moment to end.

Because this—this—was heaven.

 

World was in black and white until I saw your light I thought you had to die to find

 

He watched you from the window.

You were sitting in the courtyard, surrounded by late-blooming flowers and golden leaves. A stack of parchment was balanced on your knees, quill tapping absently at your chin. The sun caught in your hair, weaving through it like firelight.

And for the first time in his life, Severus Snape thought the world looked alive.

Not sharp. Not grey. Not something to survive.

Just… beautiful.

He remembered a time when everything had felt faded. Like the world had lost its magic and the silence in his chest was just the cost of breathing.

He had lived like that for years—ghost-walking through corridors, sipping bitter tea, speaking only when spoken to. Not quite dead, not quite living. A relic of a war no one wanted to talk about.

And then you came.

With your soft voice. Your presence. Your infuriating patience.

You never asked him to smile. Never asked him to speak. You just stayed.

And that was how you saved him.

Not with spells.

Not with speeches.

Just by being there.

He found you later in the staff room. Your chair by the fire, legs curled up, a blanket around your shoulders. A mug of tea sat untouched on the table beside you, steam long since faded.

You looked up when he entered.

Smiled.

And something inside him just… broke open.

He crossed the room slowly. Sat beside you. Took your hand in his without a word.

“You alright?” you asked softly, brushing your thumb over his knuckles.

He nodded once.

And then whispered, “The world used to be...cold.”

You looked at him, head tilted gently. Waiting.

“And then you came,” he said. “And everything… changed.”

You didn’t say anything.

Just leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Slow. Lingering.

He closed his eyes.

And in that moment, he knew—

He hadn’t had to die to find peace.

He just had to find you.

 

Somethin' so out of the ordinary  I want you layin' me down 'til we're dead and buried  On the edge of your knife, stayin' drunk on your vine  The angels up in the clouds are jealous, knowin' we found

 

It was late.

The stars hung low in the sky, like someone had pulled them closer just for the two of you.

You were sitting on the Astronomy Tower—blankets beneath you, shoulders pressed close, a flask of tea passed back and forth. The castle below was quiet, breathing in the night like a lullaby.

You were tracing constellations in the sky, naming them lazily.

He wasn't really listening.

He was looking at you.

And thinking about how you’d made a home out of him.

“Do you believe in fate?” he asked suddenly, voice barely more than breath.

You smiled faintly. “Sometimes. But I believe more in… choices.”

He nodded.

Then, slowly, reached into his pocket.

You didn’t notice at first—not until he gently took your hand and pressed something small and warm into your palm.

A ring.

Simple. Silver. Understated.

Just like him.

You looked down at it, then up at him—eyes wide, breath caught.

“No kneeling,” he said, quiet. “No speeches. Just this.”

He turned your hand over and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

“I want to grow old with you,” he whispered. “I want to share silences and storms and whatever else this life has left to give. I want you… until we’re dead and buried.”

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t need to.

You just leaned forward and kissed him.

Not urgently.

Not dramatically.

Just like someone saying yes with their whole heart.

And when you finally pulled apart, you slid the ring onto your own finger and whispered:

“Forever’s always been yours.”

He let out a breath like a man exhaling every weight he’d ever carried.

And the stars above you pulsed just a little brighter.

As if they were cheering.

 

Somethin' so out (out) of the ordinary (ordinary)  You got me kissin' the ground (ground) of your sanctuary (sanctuary)

 

The music was soft.

Vinyl cracked gently in the background, old jazz filling the cottage with warmth. The fire was low, casting amber flickers across the walls. Outside, snow kissed the garden, blanketing it in silence.

And inside, Severus held you in his arms.

You weren’t dancing the way you used to—no grand spins, no rhythm. Just slow steps. Rocking gently in the center of the living room. Your cheek resting against his chest, his hand warm against your back.

You sighed. Not tired. Just content.

He kissed your temple.

“You’re still my favorite silence,” he murmured.

You smiled against his chest.

“And you’re still my safest place.”

Your home was small, tucked into the woods beyond Hogsmeade. A little crooked. A little drafty.

But it was yours.

Photos lined the mantle—of you, of old students who still wrote letters, of gardens that had bloomed and quiet winters you’d weathered.

Severus never thought he’d see this version of his life.

He thought he’d burn out. Be forgotten. Fade like a ghost in some forgotten hall.

But here he was.

Older. Softer. Held.

And still—always—yours.

You looked up at him as the song slowed.

Lines around your eyes, silver in your hair, your ring catching the firelight.

And he thought—I have never loved anything this way. Not even once. Not even close.

“You’re staring again,” you whispered.

He smiled—really smiled.

“Of course I am. You're mine.”

You leaned up, kissed his jaw.

And you kept dancing.

Not toward an ending.

But into everything you'd built.

Everything you'd become.

Two ordinary souls.

With an extraordinary love.

 

Shatter me with your touch, oh Lord, return me to dust The angels up in the clouds are jealous, knowin' we found

[the-moon-files]

I’m not sure if I’ve said this one already or not, but I wanted to tell you anyways! It’s about the humans-are-not-hylians AU!

You know the uncanny valley evolution? That thing where when you look at something that resembles a living being too closely and some part of your mind is screaming that it’s not whatever it looks like and to get away from it? Imagine that with the reader! They can spot shapeshifters easily because of this, but it instills the same extreme primal fear we’d experience, so it might be hard for the reader to confront them at first and they’ll instead just tell the Chain for a while.

This might be a double edged sword, though, because when Twilight is in his wolf form, the reader still gets that same feeling when “Wolfie” is looking at them, whether or not they know it’s Twilight. In this case, the first time the reader spots Wolfie approaching the camp, they probably freak out and try to avoid him, even if the Links are okay with him or if he seems familiar to them.

The bottom line is that wolf isn’t a wolf, so what is he?

“It’s okay, he’s a really friendly wolf!”

“...That’s not a wolf...”

Sorry i took forever to respond!! im slow as always, life is too busy for even my hobbies lately sobs 😭

bro this is especially true bc someone looked back at TP games and how he looks in his “wolf” form, and apparently he is actually a dog lol - like at most a wolf-hybrid, i added this in to support this Hyrule-is-hella-Uncanny AU lol

Moon: Guide! - Gender Neutral/Masc!Reader (”you”/he/him)

Orbit: Short headcanons

Stars: mentions of most of our Links <3

Comets & Meteors: CWs: typical LU/Loz violence, mild swearing, etc & TWs: mild possible derealization trigger, talk of Link’s Awakening and Koholint.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

The Yiga clan members have never fooled you, not Once in person, unlike back when hyrule was still a video game

it was the constant smell of bananas, the way their eyes were always a little unfocused or they moved their head to move around their eyes, rather than their actual pupils moving, the facial muscles all stiff, usually stuck in an uncomfortable smile-

it makes more sense once u realize that they technically have a mask under that glamour hylian face, but its never not hilarious to see Wild look over his shoulder at you before approaching a lone traveler on the roads and watch him get increasingly frantic to get ur attention to see if theyre yiga lmao

u bet ur ass every link was relying on you on their adventures to know shapeshifters/illusions/glamours/etc. on sight and tell them to better prep them/warn them

tbh they all got at least a little better at being able to tell the difference the longer they heard you point out stuff/talk abt exactly why it was off-putting

(that said some of ur heroes are better at it than others, both in general, and certain aspects of it: like Twilight isn’t able to pick up illusions/glamours for the life of him, literally, sometimes, but he is more likely to figure out shapeshifters by scent after you Guided him)

(no, your heart didnt crack a little after learning that the boys had a harder time with deceit after you stopped playing the game = “were forced to leave after their adventure” bc while they were better at detecting it, they werent on ur human level yet..)

(…the only deception you ever really fell for was Koholint. It was so painful too, because Legend quietly disclosed to you one late night that you would constantly get strange feelings/uncanny disturbances, but were never able to put a name to it for him, which both made you jumpy/paranoid on the island, but made him regret ever letting his guard down all the more or feel guilty for what felt like dismissing ur instincts the more he relaxed… Legend never doubted your sense for the uncanny ever again. He takes it seriously every time now.

When you feel as if you should apologize, he tells u not to, that these days he takes comfort in it actually, it makes him feel safer. Legend looks to your face for confirmation that something isn’t a dream, and if you look at ease, so is he.)

its the way you casually laugh at Twi being called “Wolfie” when he’s obviously a wolf-dog hybrid or just a big dog

and when everyones confused u just explain smth smth, wolf heads are larger in comparison to their body, their legs are narrow, their paws are big, dogs are like the oppposite, or way more proportional like “Wolfie” is, dogs bob around when they run like “wolfie”, and have shorter legs,

smth smth wolves cant have eye colors like blue, only dogs/wolf-dog hybrids can silly-

and Wolfie is just like, 😐 😑 😐

turning around and walking away, bc hylias knotted fucking braid- he really cant escape the dog accusations now, you literally used ur freaky truth-seeing instinct and read his shapeshifter ass from head to literal toe/paw-

Wild/Hyrule look fascinated, Wind and Legend cant breath theyre laughing so hard, Time is coughing suspiciously into his fist and pops back up smirking, Four is laughing but also encouraging you to keep going, Sky is desperately trying to keep it together while also trying to get Twi to come back lmao, Wars is literally pointing and laughing ashkljdl-

ok but Twi gets his revenge later by tricking you into yapping abt how Hyrule/Four/Time all kind of look “off” sometimes too

like how u swear Rulie is glowing subtly when the moon is full, or how the world distorts behind his back sometimes,

or how Four’s eyes change colors all the time, his fighting style looks like its rotating between 4 diff ppl’s techniques,

or how Time’s face wrinkles like smile lines/crows feet at the corner of his eyes will randomly appear and disappear, how he’ll have some stubble one day then 3 days later despite having not shaven (u literally saw him wake up and do his morning routine) it’ll disappear like it was never there in the first place-

and when Twi has stopped asking you abt the others as they all reel over the knowledge of what all u can tell abt them,

(ur quietly relieved no one asked abt Wild.

You resolve urself to just lie if anyone asks, even to Wild himself.)

☆

hey im alive!! im slow yknow how it is,

ive been doing too much, and i cant wait to be done with this class so i can have free time guilt free again 🥲

god thats one good thing abt getting out of academia i dont miss and would only wish on my worst enemy,

the anxiety of doing smth, even necessary stuff like eating/sleeping/showering, and feeling liek you should be doing homework instead, god its so awful

cant wait to feel like an adult with my own life again lmao

that certification better work and get me a white collar job goddamit 🤞

anyway, hope ur all having a good weekend,

and just to let u know, im so happy acc that im alive to see the first zelda game that actually follows what i originally thought the plot of zelda games was when i was a kid lmao

(zelda as the protag, saving link!!)

Peace out,

🌙