#just imagine how soft his voice would get

[pankesitopank]

AAAAAAAAAAA OMG AAAAAH THE WAY I MOANED AAAAA MMMHHMMM LOLLL

omg just thinking about riding him like that aaaahhh

like I have this idea where reader (who I may or may not have imagined as her... but that's very virgin so I'll just leave it as reader) is riding him in that same pose and he does NOTHING just watches her while she falls apart on top of him. Then he's the one who takes control and AAAAHH.

STAY WITH ME I HAVE A MINI SCENARIO

It was that pose. The one he knew made you crumble.

Hyunjin laid back against the couch, arms resting behind his head, his shirt stretching deliciously across his chest. His legs were spread like he was inviting you in—but his expression? That was the real trap. Heavy-lidded, smug, lips parted in just the faintest smirk. He looked at you like he already knew how this would end.

And maybe he did.

You were supposed to be proving a point. Something about not always needing him to take the lead. Something about how well you could ride him without begging for help. But the second your knees settled on either side of his hips, and your hands found purchase against his chest, you felt that confidence flicker under the weight of his stare.

“You sure you wanna try this?” he asked, voice a low hum, almost bored. “You remember what happened last time?”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks already warm.

“I can handle it.”

Hyunjin didn’t argue. He just arched a brow, the gold of his necklace catching the light as his head tilted slightly. “Alright then,” he murmured. “Go ahead, baby.”

And fuck if that didn’t already do something to you.

Your fingers trembled just a little as you reached between you, lining him up—hard and hot, his length already pressing against your folds from just a few soft grinds during your makeout session. He hadn’t even touched you properly yet. That was the worst part.

The teasing was all you.

You sank down slowly, inch by inch, your breath catching as his cock stretched you open. That familiar burn, the delicious fullness—it made you pause, hips trembling as you adjusted. He was big. Every time felt like the first. And from the slight twitch in his smirk, he knew it.

“Still doing okay?” he asked, voice smug and lazy.

You bit your lip, trying to focus. “Fine.”

You weren’t fine.

You were already clenching, already too aware of how he filled you up, how deep he was when you were on top. But you started to move—hips rolling slowly, experimentally, finding a rhythm.

And god, it felt good.

The friction, the angle, the way his cock hit just right inside you. You set your pace, slow and deep, hands pressing against his firm chest for leverage. Your thighs ached just a little, but you pushed through, trying to stay in control. You had to. That was the point.

Hyunjin didn’t help you. Not once.

His arms stayed behind his head, that stupid gold watch catching your eye as he laid there like a fucking painting, letting you do the work. Letting you work for it.

He just watched.

Watched the way your breath got heavier, the way your legs started to tremble, the way your movements got a little more desperate. You tried to stay composed—keep a rhythm—but the tension was building fast.

And Hyunjin was silent.

No moans, no groans. Just that same smug look on his face. That calm, unreadable gaze that made you want to snap.

“Why aren’t you—” you panted, lifting and dropping onto him again, “—doing anything?”

He just blinked slowly. “You said you wanted to ride me, remember?” A pause. “You were so confident. So cocky. Wanted to prove a point.”

You hated how turned on his voice made you. It was too casual. Too calm. And you were already shaking.

“I—fuck—” you gasped, grinding down against him with more force, chasing the friction you needed. “I can. I don’t—nngh—need you to—”

“Oh?” he said, tilting his head. “Because you’re getting real sloppy, baby. Haven’t even made yourself cum yet.”

You whimpered.

It was true. The angle was almost there, your clit barely brushing against his pelvis, but it wasn’t enough. You couldn’t get enough speed, enough force, not without help. Your legs were already burning.

Still, you didn’t want to give in. Not yet.

You braced your palms harder against his chest and moved faster—bouncing on his cock with shallow, needy motions, chasing something that was just out of reach. His cock dragged perfectly inside you, but you were losing rhythm, falling apart.

And all the while, Hyunjin just watched you.

“God, look at you,” he said softly. “So pretty when you try.”

His voice made your stomach flip. You were whining now, desperate little sounds falling from your lips every time your hips met his. You were so close, but it wasn’t enough.

You needed help. You needed him.

And the second your pace faltered again, the second you let out that frustrated little whimper, Hyunjin moved.

His hands came down from behind his head, strong fingers wrapping around your waist. He didn’t flip you. He didn’t sit up. He just gripped you tight and started thrusting up.

Hard.

“Ah—Hyun—fuck!”

You collapsed forward instantly, hands fisting in his shirt as he rutted up into you, hips snapping with a rhythm that stole the breath from your lungs. Every thrust hit deep, his cock slamming into your sweet spot like he’d been waiting for you to fail.

“Wanted me to let you ride me, huh?” he grunted, voice right against your ear now. “Wanted to show me how good you are?”

You couldn’t speak. You could barely breathe.

His grip was tight, his rhythm brutal. You could feel his abs flex beneath your stomach, his thighs tensing with every upward drive. The couch squeaked under the pressure, the sound of skin against skin filthy in the air.

“Not so cocky now, are you?”

You cried out—his cock hitting so deep it felt like you were about to fall apart. Your body went boneless on top of him, your chest pressing against his as you moaned shamelessly.

“Say it,” Hyunjin growled. “Tell me who’s in control.”

You shook your head, tears threatening at the corners of your eyes.

He slammed into you.

“Say it.”

You gasped. “You! You’re in control—fuck, Hyunjin, I can’t—”

He grinned, breath hot against your skin. “That’s what I thought.”

One hand slipped between you, fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, fast circles. It was too much. His cock ramming into you from below, his fingers on your clit, his voice in your ear—

You came hard, body convulsing on top of him as your orgasm ripped through you.

But he didn’t stop.

“Good girl,” he whispered, still thrusting up into you. “Now let me finish.”

You were sobbing now, overwhelmed, your walls fluttering around him as he fucked you through your high. You were limp against him, totally at his mercy, thighs quivering as he chased his release.

And then—deep, low, a growl against your throat—

“Gonna cum inside you.”

You moaned so loud it echoed.

“Gonna make sure you remember who really owns this pussy, baby.”

And with one last, brutal thrust—he came.

You felt it. Hot and thick, spilling deep inside you as he groaned into your skin, holding you tight against his chest. Your body pulsed with aftershocks, your breath ragged, your legs trembling uncontrollably.

The room was silent.

Only the sound of your breathing. Of Hyunjin’s heart pounding beneath your cheek.

You didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

He kissed your temple, still inside you, still warm and hard.

“Next time,” he whispered, “just ask.”

You let out a breathless laugh, cheeks burning.

Maybe you’d let him win this one.

[lazysoulwriter]

sand and stardust - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you. ♡ content: slowburn, soft nostalgia, Pedro being in love™, behind the scenes of GOT, cultural pride, mentions of fame and fan love, married fluff, portuguese phrases, real soft and romantic. Pedro Pascal x Brazilian!actress

---

You met Pedro in the kind of heat that made your costume stick to your skin. The Dornish sun—well, the set lights pretending to be it—shone harshly against the gold jewelry hanging from your ears, and you remember adjusting your stance for the fifth time while someone off-screen yelled about shadows.

“You alright there?” came his voice, a little raspy, a little teasing.

You turned—and there he was, Oberyn Martell himself, giving you a crooked smile and holding out a bottle of water like he already knew you'd forget to stay hydrated.

“Só se for com você por perto,” you replied before you could stop yourself. (Only if you’re around)

Pedro blinked. “Wait. Was that Portuguese?”

You tilted your head, smirking. “What, the Chilean didn’t expect a Brazilian on set?”

And that was it.

A spark, a crackle, the kind of thing that doesn't burst into flames right away, but smolders for months. Pedro made you laugh between takes. You helped him with lines when he fumbled through Valyrian. He kept showing up early, claiming it was for “professionalism,” but he was always just waiting to catch a glimpse of you first.

By the time the Game of Thrones premiere came around, people noticed how close you were. But you weren’t loud about it. You never needed to be.

Years passed, roles came and went. You both worked on opposite ends of the world sometimes, but your roots were already tangled.

When Pedro got cast in The Mandalorian, he brought you to the set like a good luck charm. When you starred in a critically acclaimed Brazilian film, he showed up in São Paulo with flowers and a front row seat.

Your fans? Ferociously loyal. One Twitter thread called you two “the last real love story in Hollywood,” and someone else made a fancam that used a vintage filter and “Garota de Ipanema” in the background.

“I think they love us more than we do,” you teased once, scrolling through edits as you lay tangled in your shared sheets.

Pedro kissed your bare shoulder, still warm from sleep. “Impossible.”

There were still paparazzi sometimes, invasive headlines when they had nothing better to write. You’d get insecure—about the fame, the way the world looked at you, the pressure of being a “power couple.”

But every time, Pedro would find you, wrap you in his arms, and say something dumb in Portuguese like “minha estrelinha de Dorne” (my little star of Dorne) with the worst accent imaginable. And you'd laugh, because he meant every word.

Your wedding had been quiet. Just family. Just love. Just a Chilean boy and a Brazilian girl who met under fake sun and ended up building something real.

And years later, the fandom still posted your old behind-the-scenes photos like they were proof that soulmates were real.

They weren’t wrong.

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[nerdygirlramblings]

finally, the courting contract and Ren's response

previous

You leave the briefing off-kilter. You didn't expect to ever put yourself in Spinner's orbit again, assuming Laswell would connect him to his nefarious doings other ways. But you can't shake the image of him holding you close, the predatory look in his eyes as he told you he didn't believe in putting birds in cages. The way you could tell he wanted to put you in one. No matter how much you want to get back to normal, especially after your heat, you know you can't go back on your scent blockers. That thought is almost more upsetting, and from the soft grunt behind you, you know Ghost can smell your distress. You'd told Price a few weeks back you could control your scent, but you're doing a shit job of that now.

As if called by your thoughts, the smell of his autumn fire invades your senses as a warm hand falls on your shoulder. "Why don't ya take the afternoon, Ren. Tha' was a lot ta come back ta, yeah?"

You want to jump on his excuse, use it to get some space, but between the heat and being told you'll have to try get Spinner's attention, your omega is begging you to stay here with your pack where it's safe. Except they aren't your pack, you grudgingly remind her. They might not want to be your pack. And she does nothing but howl and weep at that thought. Knowing your scent is still laced with distress, you try to dial it back enough to softly say, "I think I just need ta rest a bit."

"Well then," Soap pipes up from somewhere behind you, "why don't we all head to the barracks. Nothing needs doin' right away. Ye can go shopping wi' Adam tomorrow."

Before you can respond either way, Price speaks up, "Actually, Soap, that's brilliant. Let's head off base for a little. Maybe hit the shops, get some scran. Can't promise we'll be as helpful as Adam, but I bet we can help ya find something."

Two hours later, you find yourself in a shopping center near base, different from the retail park you’d gone to with Adam for the first op. Though he'd warned you they wouldn't be as helpful as Adam, Price surprises you when he pulls out several tasteful dresses in a style similar to the first one. Holding them up, question clear on his face, you can't help but smile and nod. A sales clerk comes over, glancing hesitantly between you all, the others intimidating even in their civvies, and asks, "Can I get a room started for you?" He directs the question at you despite Price holding the dresses.

"Er, sure," you reply, watching him walk away with the clothes Price selected. Something in that action opens the floodgates as Gaz and Soap practically dive into dress racks. You smother the giggle that bubbles up at seeing your team trying to help pick a dress. Ghost's only contribution is taking pictures of the dresses and sending them to Adam. After the first six, Adam responds with pictures from the last few events supporting the dinner's nature charity.

While the auction was nearly black tie in attendee attire, the riot of color from the previous nature charity events sends Gaz running to put back nearly every dress they've found so far. Instead he and Soap start grabbing anything jewel-toned. Frills and layers, silks and chiffons, it all ends up over the changing room door. One after the other, you try the on the fabric concoctions. At first, you simply slip a dress on, note how it looks and feels, and move on. It’s when Soap calls out, “Ach, lass, how long does a little dress take?”

The teal fabric falls back around your ankles. “Er…did ya want ta see them?” you tentatively call.

Sounds of a scuffle reach you, a yelp and the distinct sound of fabric being slapped. “Ignore ‘im lass,” Price calls. “Unless ya actually want ta show us.” There’s a hesitant note in his voice. It feels out of place and warms you imagining him nervous in the waiting area.

Thankfully, the teal dress is fit, so you walk back out, watching your feet instead of their reactions. The silence at your appearance stretches for long, uncomfortable seconds until you finally glance up. Ghost is gripping the arms of the chair he’s sitting in, muscles tight. Price’s lips are rolled together, and you can’t tell what he’s holding himself back from saying, though based on how wide his eyes are, you hope it isn’t bad. Soap is literally hanging on the edge of his seat, and Gaz simply looks awe-struck. You take a breath to calm your nerves before saying, “If this is yer reaction ta each dress, we’ll be here all day.”

Soap barks out a strained laugh, saying, "Wouldnae mind at all."

"Well, ya really did put the whole shop in the changing room. I can't promise ta come out in everything, yeah? I do'n really want ta be here all day."

They don't respond as you walk back to the gowns they picked out. You already know the taffeta of the blue one will be too uncomfortable, and the one in an array of sunset colors won't let you move enough. They see the ombre pink with the asymmetrical hem and the deep purple velvet with virtually no back, but it's the white slip dress with silk overlay that elicits the most reaction. The fabric whispers over your skin, and with hidden slits along the front and the back that make it easy to move in. The silk layer has a riot of tropical looking flowers on it: deep pink blooms and bright yellow petals curling over vibrant green leaves and little blue blossoms.

When you step into the waiting area, you're startled by a deep purr reminiscent of a Bristol Fighter. The surprised looks on Price's, Gaz's, and Soap's faces show you how uncommon it is for Ghost to react like this. Price quickly gets over it as the purr fades off almost as fast as it came on. "Yer a sight," he says, looking at you. You want to hide from the intensity of his gaze but your omega won't let you.

"I think that's the one," Gaz says.

Your smile is tentative but warm. "I think so," you reply. "Let me get back into my civvies an' we can grab some supper."

You put the unselected dresses on the rack by the changing room and pass the white dress to Price. Ghost is standing awkwardly near the shop entrance, but you don't see or hear Gaz and Soap. Eyebrow raised, you look at your Captain, asking, "Where are the others?"

"Said they needed ta grab somethin' and ta meet 'em at Chinese," Price tells you, large, scarred hand carefully taking the dress bag from the salesman. He herds you in front of him, gently brushing his fingertips along your low back as you precede him. Ghost joins you as you leave, trailing in Price's wake.

The Chinese is a large buffet on the other side of the shopping center. At this time of day, it isn't too busy, but you hear Price mention the base, and when the hostess leads you into the restaurant, it's to a table in the back, facing the door. Price and Ghost sit on the outer edges, herding you into the center seat. Gaz and Soap aren't here yet, but they'll be able to see you when the get here.

It's strange to be sat between your captain and your leftenant, silent as they both currently are, but the wait for the others isn't long. Soap spots you immediately and heads straight for the table, nearly knocking into a poor pensioner carrying a plate piled with desserts to his table. Gaz isn't much better, weaving around other patrons for the fastest route to where you are. As they sit, both men share the same smug look.

"Jus' show 'er," Ghost grunts, looking at the sergeants.

"Ren, lookit wha' we found fer ye!" Soap whisper shouts, putting a flat felt box on the table. He's watching you the way Mama usually watches the triplets on Christmas, eyes alight with anticipatory glee.

You reach out, flipping the lid up and sit back, a little startled, and then shocked and surprised that the kaleidoscope of butterflies isn't taking flight. There are several different sizes and colors, a riot of piercing blues, vibrant yellows, rich-hued oranges, and deep reds framed in pitch black or pure white. It isn't clear what they're made of, but they're all paused mid-flight in a large arcing collar that will protect your neck. Glancing between Gaz and Soap, you blink back tears. "It's...it's lovely," you choke out. "But it's too much. I remember Laswell's budget for my clothes the first time, and between the dress and this, I know we've gone over."

"Consider it a courting gift," Price murmurs, shocking you straight to your core. The gasp that escapes is entirely unconscious. You try to gather the words for a response, shifting to see Price better, but he continues talking without looking over at you. "We've been wantin' ta talk wi' ya about courtin', about yer place in the pack, for a while now."

Ghost make a noise that can only be a grunt of agreement, and Gaz and Soap are nodding encouragingly. It's only when he turns to look you in the eye do you realize the agreement and encouragement weren't for you, weren't to show you they all want you, though that's a secondary effect, it was to shore up your captain who's looking as uncomfortable as the day he mentioned Ghost's rut. Is he scared of your reaction?

"Told ya when I offered ya the spot on the team we were open ta courtin' ya," Price reminds you. "What I didn't say was we'd already agreed we wanted ta court ya if ya were willin'."

"But," you stammer, "ya didn't even know me! How could ya want ta court me?"

"Because yer amazing, Ren," Gaz says, smiling gently, trying not to spook you. "We knew what others were sayin'. We knew ya were strong and capable. Hell, we knew a few alphas made arses of themselves tryin' ta court ya all the wrong ways." Ghost chuckles darkly, and you wonder if they know about the alpha you'd put in medical.

"When ya had yer heat," Price says, drawing your attention to him again, "we drew up a courtin' contract." He places a single page on the table in front of you. It's shockingly short but thorough, stating that the 141 Pack would like to court you. "The 141 Pack will, in the course of their courting of the omega, never impinge on the omega's career or make demands that demean or diminish the omega's service. As much as is possible, the integrity and safety of the pack will come before everything else; no member of the pack will be transferred off the 141 task force unless a specific request is made, in writing and with the consent of all pack members, to both Captain Price and Station Chief Laswell. During the courting, the pack will find non-barracks lodging that meets the omega's needs for a nest and / or other safe space. After the courting period, the pack may maintain this lodging or find alternate housing that continues to meet the needs of the pack. All members of the 141 Pack will take shared compassionate leave for any ruts or heats that arise in order to support the impacted pack member(s). Non-compassionate leave is not required to be shared by any members of the pack. At no time either during or after the courting process is the omega obligated to undergo a full bonding / claiming."

Tucked at the bottom is the kind of clause the military requires: "If the courting is unsuccessful, all pack and non-pack members would still be considered valued member of the 141 task force. However, if desired, any pack or non-pack member of the task force may request a transfer which will be supported with full-throated recommendations of service from both Station Chief Laswell and Captain Price."

It's everything you would ever want from a pack: the space and support to be you. You knew the team had your back before, but to see it laid out so unequivocally makes your breath catch in your chest. Looking at the paper, with signatures already from the four men around you, Laswell, and the base commander, you whisper, "This doesn't feel real." You swipe at the tears you can't control, catching them before they hit the page. You look up at Gaz and Soap who are wearing warring expressions of yearning and fear, vacillating in that space between achieving your dream and having it destroyed.

"'S real, luv," Ghost whispers, putting a hand over yours. "We wan' ya ta be our omega."

Somehow you find the strength to nod your head and softly say, "Okay." You're staring at your hand under Ghost's, so you don't see their faces, but it's impossible to ignore the way Ghost's hand tightens infinitesimally on yours, or the whoop of glee from Soap, or Price's heavy hand as it drops to your thigh while he leans over and says, "Thank ya for givin' us a chance, Ren."

next

series masterlist | main masterlist

~~

taglist: @sirbonesly @z-wantstowrite @thriving-n-jiving @cecelia97 @theycallmevalen @boogeysmoth @cryingpages @riley13 @luxylucylou @lucienofthelakes @ilyztwo @chaosundcoffee @lostintransist @thegreyjoyed @honestlymassivetrash @thebumbqueen @maliamaiden @mordacioust @bina-passion-fruit @kittygonap @wanderingoperator @marsbars09 @kawaii-michealmyers@muraaaaaa @rpgsandstuff @casualhel @akilababs @thatbeach0 @night-shadowblood-writes2 @echo9821 @capswife @foolishseven @ilovesituationships @person-whomadefr0gsgay @leahnicole1219 @reggiesslut @ur-fav-pixi

[wonnieluv]

pull the plug - s.jy

Summary: after working your connections and needing a job after graduating college, you’ve found yourself find yourself working a US Tour for one of your favorite groups, Enhypen

fem!reader x idol!Jake

warnings: suggestive, swearing, kissing, skinship, cuddling, Jake is down bad

masterlist | enha masterlist

Networking is everything. That’s what they drilled into your head the second you stepped foot into college when you decided you wanted to study Music Business.

Now just a few short years later you’re freshly graduated with a job opportunity on your plate for what feels like a dream straight out of one of your favorite tumblr fics. Working as a staff on Enhypen’s US Tour.

That’s how you’ve found yourself standing at the side of the pit while the group runs through their tech rehearsals.

You’re now on the third concert of their tour, and you're definitely settling into the role. It’s tiring at times, but you’re having the time of your life getting to travel and work with one of your favorite artists. The shows have gone smoothly for the most part, except for one minor quirk.

You’ve had to help fix a certain Australian boys microphone at least twice during each soundcheck not to mention an extra third time during the second New York show.

Your boss has overseen you fixing Jake’s mic so many times and not once has she said you’re doing anything wrong. She even made sure to reassure you that you aren’t doing anything wrong but it’s gotten to the point that you’ve officially been put on Jake duty.

Yes. Jake duty.

Your official job of essentially following him around whenever he is offstage to make sure he doesn’t damage the microphone and if he does you can fix it in time for him to go back onstage. During tech rehearsals, sound check, outfit changes, and VCR breaks.

It’s gotten to point where you swear he looked you dead in the eye as he slightly bent the receiver out of place before calling you over to fix it.

Now it wasn’t bent so bad that it was broken but he’s essentially been instructed to not touch it anymore and he’s having way too much fun making you all flustered when you come close to him.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

The members have now all gotten dressed and are prepping to head backstage from their green room. You’re sat in the corner with a staff you’ve befriended chatting about what you want to do on your day off in Chicago the next day before you hear the all too familiar teasing of Jay’s voice

“Y/nnnnn, Jake broke his mic. Again.” You let out a soft sigh and look over to where the pair are now standing seeing Jake’s mic wire hanging out of his jacket where it should be connected to his mic pack.

“Jake just admit it. You’ve got a crush on her and you like it when she touches you” Jay teases as he watches you walk over to Jake to fix his mic.

You’re standing behind him as you feel your face flush slightly at his comment and thank god for that because you don’t even want to imagine the stupid smirk that would adorn is beautifully sculpted face if he was facing you.

“And what if I do. At least I could pull a baddie and you’re sitting over there alone with your guitar” Jake jokes back

Luckily, his mic is back in place because, honestly, you would’ve dropped it. I mean, what else would a person do if Jake called them a baddie

“You’re all good Jake” you say stepping out from behind him but before you fully walk away you pause and face him “and by the way. If you really wanted to flirt. You could do it like a normal person instead of messing with the thousand dollar equipment” you say with a smile. As Jay begins to relentlessly tease him, you make your way back to your previous spot and continue your conversation as if your heart wasn't palpitating at a concerning rate.

Long story short, Jake’s microphone had absolutely no problems the entire show. What replaced it though, was the unnecessary prolonged eye contact, the winks, the smirks, and even the unnecessary slight brushes of his hand against yours as he passes by just a bit too close to you as he moves through the crowded backstage.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

With Jake no longer deliberately sabotaging his microphone, the show went on without a hitch.

Does this mean you were right? Was he really just breaking things on purpose so you'd get close to him? If so, what are you supposed to do with that? Jump his bones? Tempting offer, but you opt to be the nonchalant queen you are and ignore his existence after the show.

You don't say anything as you retrieve his undamaged microphone pack and wires from him after the encore before briskly walking away to place it where it belongs and collect your belongings before the staff car leaves for the hotel. Simple plan really.

Not so simple because a certain Australian boy decided he was going to follow you when he noticed you going off on your own. The next thing you know, your back is against the cement wall of the backstage and your eyes are locking with Jake's.

"Jake, what the hell," you say. The shock of this turn of events evident in your voice

"If you keep avoiding me, I'll start breaking my mic again," He says it so casually you almost miss exactly what he meant. By the time you comprehend any of it he's already walking back down the hallway you both came from.

"See you later pretty girl"

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

You let out a light exhale as you relax into your seat in the car as you wait for the rest of your staff friends to join you. You guys normally leave the venue a while after the boys do as teardown takes a little bit of extra time. By the time you pull up to the fancy hotel they have you in, it's long past midnight.

You bid farewell to your friend as her room is right off the elevator on the floor BeLift rented out for safety purposes. Your room is further down at the end of the hallway, around the corner. You lucked out with a corner room with beautiful views of the city.

As you round the corner to the final stretch of hallway that feels a little more greuling after the long day, you notice a man standing outside your door looking down at his phone in his hands. He has a flop of brown hair on his head, slightly messy from the number of times he ran his hand through it, and a stupidly handsome side profile. You know exactly who he is, but you're not too sure you want to face him right now, so you continue past him without sparing him an obvious glance.

You almost exhale thinking you got past freely before you hear "y/n"

You freeze just as you're about to scan your room key. "Jake," you respond, trying to keep as calm as possible. What on earth could he want from you at nearly 1 in the morning?

You don't turn to face him but you don't enter your room quite yet. You feel him step closer to you.

"What are you doing here Jake...?" You say almost breathily as you continue to face the door

He doesn't say anything before you feel a soft hand gently turning you to face him.

As you make eye contact with him your breath nearly stops at how close his face is to yours. You can practically feel his breath on your lips as you struggle to keep your focus on his eyes.

"I'm here to do something that I've been wanting to do since the moment I laid eyes on you..." His voice comes out almost in a whisper as he slowly backs you up until you're trapped between him and your hotel door.

"And what might that be..." Your gaze flickers to his plump lips just has he bites his lower lip pulling at it slightly before letting it go.

"I think you have a pretty good idea already... I just need you to tell me yes"

A week ago, you would've slapped yourself at the desperation dripping from your voice, but right now in this moment, you don't even care when you reply, "Please..."

The word barely rolls off your tongue before his lips are on yours. Everything about it is soft. His plump lips that are connected to yours. The way he takes his time as he kisses you like he's got all the time in the world. The soft locks that you run your hands through as he pulls you closer, if that's even possible.

You're too engrossed in what's happening to notice him guiding your hand with your room key to the scanner on the door, but the second that door opens, he momentarily pulls away to push you into your room. The door barely shuts before he's back on you.

By the time you pull away to catch your breath, your bag has long been thrown to the ground, his jacket the same, you both look a mess from the clear passion of, as you would put it, whatever the fuck just happened.

"Impatient are we". He chuckles softly as he presses his forehead against yours, with his hands resting on your waist.

You don't respond as you close your eyes in an attempt to steady your breathing and your heartbeat.

The two of you remain there for a moment, just silently in each other's presence, before he moves his head from yours, just momentarily before giving you a light peck on your forehead.

"You should go to bed," He says softly as he steps back. His face morphs into a soft smile noticing the light confusion in your eyes as they search his.

"It's not that I don't want to," He says, bringing your hand up to his lips, giving a soft kiss to the back of it, "Trust me if I could you'd be on the bed right now and nobody would be seeing you until we have to go to the airport" he chuckles out as he wraps his arms around your waist again. "but you look like you could fall asleep standing up, and I'm not going to rush this."

You nod as your shoulders relax slightly at his response, an unknown wave of relief washing over you.

"You can still stay... if you want," You say softly as your arms instinctively wrap around his neck.

"Oh? Can't get enough of me already?" He says with a tilt of his head, "I don't know... You might jump my bones." His tone is playful as he quirks his eyebrow with that stupid smile on his face.

"Hmm... I guess I'll save that for another time." You say, returning his banter as you push off the wall and head further into the room.

Jake quickly makes himself at home, kicking off his shoes and lying starfish on your bed. You chuckled at him before throwing the TV remote at him, causing him to lift his head at you quizically.

"I'm showering," you answer the unspoken question on his face before turning around to grab your clothes.

He flops his head back on your bed "you sure you don't need help?"

"Don't get any ideas" you say slapping his leg as you walk past. You barely catch his yelp in reaction as you close the bathroom door.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

You step out of the bathroom, freshly showered in an oversized shirt and some sweatpants. Jake decided to make himself comfortable. His hoodie is shed and now lying on one of the chairs by your window as he sits against the headboard watching something on his phone while some random 2000's sitcom is playing softly on the TV at the foot of the bed.

When hears you exit the bathroom he turns off his phone and sets in on the nightstand and gets comfortable in the pillows patting the spot next to him.

"reserved VIP seating just for you, pretty girl" The smile on his face almost makes your knees buckle as you shuffle over to the empty side of the bed and lie down next to him.

He lazily wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you just slightly closer. You feel the warmth of his chest against your back as he nuzzles into the back of your neck, his breath tickling you as he inhales the scent of your freshly showered hair.

"tomorrow..." he starts softly "you're mine"

"Oh? And what if I made plans to go enjoy myself in this lovely city," you say playfully. Your hand reaches down to play with the rings on his fingers that were once holding your waist.

"Hmmm too bad"

You giggle softly and lean back into him as you close your eyes and relax into his hold. As you do so, you feel him relax against you, breath evening out as he mindlessly holds you just a bit tighter.

As you let much-needed sleep take over your brain, the conversation of what will happen when you inevitably blow off your friends tomorrow and what all of this means for the two of you leaves your brain. That's a problem for tomorrow's you. Tonight's you is contently snuggled up in Jake's embrace wondering what kinda voodoo shit she cast to end up in this position and what other kind of voodoo shit she can cast to make it last a little bit longer.

And when you wake up in the morning to Jake's pouty face trying as hard as he can (and succeeding) to keep you in bed for just 5 more minutes, you realize maybe you won't have to try too hard to keep him around.

authors note: sooooo what do we thiiiink? I reworked this like 20 times and i think I’m finally semi-satisfied with it so I hope you all enjoyed it!!

[cupidsworstcrime]

[...fauxcest (brother/sister) , (the illusion of) non/dubcon , catfishing as foreplay]

step brother!johnny x f!reader

smut , obviously

the words "inbred" & "incestuous" used in a kink sense but not in a literal way , consenting & non-blood-related adults being unhinged little freaks

AN: they were not raised together, despite somethings johnny says , thats just him being on some absolute FREAK shit

He tells himself it's harmless.

A fake account. A few messages. Maybe a picture or two. You’re a tease anyway—you always have been, even if you don’t mean to be. Walking around the house in those soft little shorts, brushing past him in the hallway with your sleepy voice and your stupid pet names. Johnny. J. Big bro.

You’re not his sister. Not really. Just a few years of living together and suddenly everyone thinks he’s supposed to be your guardian angel or some shit. Nah. Not when you look at him like that. Not when you curl your legs up on the sofa and sigh his name like it means something.

The first time you sent a picture—half-joking, half-daring—he had to bite down on his fist to keep from groaning. Almost came in his fucking joggers. And when he messaged back from his burner, pretending to be some online boyfriend of yours?

You didn’t hesitate.

He jerks off to you every night now. In the garage. In the shower. Face down in his mattress, biting the pillow, moaning into the sheets like some pathetic bastard. He can’t stop. Can’t look at you without imagining your cunt wrapped around his cock, your throat filled with his name.

You're so good for him. So eager. So trusting.

And so fucking stupid. God, you’re stupid, aren’t you? You think you’re safe in this house. That "Johnny" would never. That your step-brother's just some dumb soldier with a big mouth and a soft spot for you. You don’t see the way his hands shake when you bend over. You don’t see how he stalks your bedroom door some nights like a wolf.

You don’t know.

You can’t know.

Because if you did—if you even guessed—you’d stop. And he’d go mad.

So he keeps the lie alive. Keeps messaging you while you sit in the same house. Asks for more. Coaxes it out with filth. Tells you what he wants to do and laughs when you send it like a gift.

Tonight you sent him a video. Slow fingers. Wet sounds. Whispering the name of someone you don’t even know. Someone who doesn’t exist.

And Johnny came in his hand so hard he nearly blacked out.

He’s in his bed now. Phone open. Staring at the freeze-frame of you spread open for him, lip caught in your teeth.

He types:

"Wish I could taste you. I’d ruin you for anyone else."

Sends it. Watches the little "Seen" icon appear.

Then you type back.

"I should invite you over next time J deploys... <3"

His blood freezes. Every molecule in his body goes silent.

He stares at the screen like it’s cursed. Like it’s bleeding. Like it just cracked open and called him out.

His cock twitches. Almost types: Just come to my room.

No. No no no no—he closes the app. Paces. Breath ragged. Eyes wide. You can’t know. You can’t. You’d hate him. You’d scream. You’d run.

Unless—

He sinks into the bed.

And starts getting hard all over again.

It starts with a dare.

“No bra today. Bet it’d make it easier to take pics for me, sweetheart.”

He’s already sweating when he types it. Heart thudding like a drum. He adds a little emoji to soften it—just in case. Just in case you hesitate. Just in case the guilt dares to wake up in him again.

But you don’t hesitate.

You send a photo from the kitchen. From his kitchen. Arm pressed across your chest, nipples barely covered, shirt so thin it’s basically see-through in the morning sun.

“Like this?”

He doesn’t even make it to the bathroom. Just fumbles his joggers down in the hallway, cock hard and aching, jerking himself raw while staring at the screen like it’s a shrine. Like you’re a shrine.

He tells himself he’s doing you a favor. Teaching you how to be sexy. Making you feel wanted. That someone should.

But he’s not that clean. Not that noble.

He’s a fucking freak, and he knows it.

So he keeps going.

“Tiny shorts. No panties. Need to know you're a good girl for me.”

“Sit on the couch like before, love. Snap a pic while someone’s around.”

“Touch yourself in the hallway. Just a little. Think about me.”

You do it all.

And it breaks him.

Because sometimes you do it even before he asks. Wearing those little cotton things that ride up your ass, leaning over the counter like you don’t know he’s watching from the doorway, chest braless, thighs soft and spread on the leather cushions.

He can smell you on the sofa.

And the worst part? He swears you're getting bolder.

Once, you dropped your phone in front of him and bent down without thinking. He saw everything. No panties. Just skin and a little string of slick, catching the light. He nearly groaned out loud. Had to bite the inside of his cheek until it bled.

You smiled at him after. Sweet. Innocent.

He had to go jerk off in the garage like a fucking feral animal, fist pounding against the wall after he came, panting your name like a curse.

He’s not sleeping anymore. Just watching. Wanting. Messaging you from the other side of the wall.

He dares you to go further. Pushes it. Tests you.

“Rub your thighs together at dinner.”

“Don’t close your door when you change.”

“Sit on John's bed when he's not home.”

He can’t tell if you’re playing dumb or playing along.

And part of him doesn’t want to know.

Because if you’re doing it for him—if you know it’s him, and you’re still teasing him like this—then that means you’re just as fucked up as he is.

And that?

That makes it so much worse.

So much better.

It was supposed to be a normal night.

Dinner. Dishes. You laughing at something on your phone, his messages, the ones he sent to ruin you. The ones you think belong to some random guy you met online, the one you've been showing your tits to for weeks like it’s a normal thing.

But tonight?

Tonight you walk into the living room in those tiny shorts—the ones. The ones he told you to wear when you're "feeling needy." No bra. Hair messy. And no shame. None.

You bend over the couch, reaching for something on the floor. Phone in one hand. Face down. Casual. Oblivious.

And he sees it.

The curve of your back. The way the shorts ride up—completely split you open. You didn’t even pretend to wear underwear. Your cunt is right there. Soft, glistening. Inviting.

His throat goes dry. His cock’s already stiff in his jeans. Blood roars in his ears. He takes a step forward before he even thinks.

And then he sees it.

Your phone screen. Camera on. Recording.

You’re recording yourself—facedown on his couch, ass arched up, cunt peeking out beneath those shorts—and you’re doing it for him. For your “online boyfriend.”

For him.

As if your fucking step-brother cant fucking smell the sin leaking out of you.

"His" name leaves your lips, the one on that stupid fucking account, whispered low for the camera. "Hope you like the view..."

And that’s it.

That’s the moment he breaks.

He doesn’t remember crossing the room. Just the burn in his chest. The ache in his cock. The rage and the desire crashing together in a single molten scream behind his teeth.

Your body jerks as he grabs the phone from your hand, slamming it onto the coffee table. You whip your head around, eyes wide—but not scared. Never scared.

You’re smiling.

“Johnny,” you breathe, sweet as sin. “You finally gonna stop pretending?”

He doesn’t speak. Just grabs your hips with both hands and pushes your back down, until your chest is pressed to the cushion and your ass is tipped up just the way he likes.

He palms your cheeks, spreads you open, and growls—growls—at the sight of your cunt glistening for him.

“Fuckin’ little minx,” he hisses, voice shredded. “You knew. You’ve known this whole time.”

You nod. Gasp. Wiggle your hips. “Wanted to see how long you’d last…”

He bites your shoulder. Not gently.

“You think this is a game?” he snarls into your skin. “You’ve been walking ‘round my house—my fuckin’ house—like this, for me? For my cock?”

You nod again. “Who else would I do it for?”

That’s when he loses it.

One hand pins your wrists to the small of your back. The other rips your shorts down, so fast the seams pop. You’re bare in seconds, cunt dripping, back arched, breath hitching.

And Johnny?

Johnny is feral.

“This what you wanted, baby?” he breathes, grinding his hard-on against your ass. “Wanted big brother to fuck the brat outta you?”

Your moan answers for you.

He kisses your spine like a man dying of thirst. Bites your hips. Tells you you’re his now—always were.

And as he finally pushes inside, sinking into you with a guttural moan, one thought tears through him louder than the rest:

She knew. She let me. And she still wants more.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groans, hilting inside you with a sharp snap of his hips, “tightest fuckin’ cunt I’ve ever had—‘course my little sis would be the one to ruin me.”

Your breath hitches. He feels it.

The way your walls flutter around him, all soft and soaked, like you like hearing it.

You do.

You do, don’t you?

“Ohh, you fuckin’ freak,” he grits, grabbing your hair and yanking your head back just enough to hear you pant. “You like it when I call you that? Like bein’ bent over the couch by your big brother?”

You moan something that might be “yes” or “more”—doesn’t matter. He’s gone.

“Actin’ all sweet ‘n innocent ‘round me. Callin’ me Johnny like you don’t spend every night spreadin’ your legs for me behind a screen. Like you don’t love this sick fuckin’ game.”

He thrusts hard—cruel and deep—and your whole body jerks. Couch cushions shift beneath you, muffling your whines. He keeps your wrists pinned behind your back, your ass tipped perfectly for him, so he can watch your hole suck him in again and again.

“You liked knowing I was watchin’, didn’t you?” he growls. “When you wore those fuckin’ shorts—no panties, tits bouncin’—you knew it was me. You wanted to tease big brother ‘til he lost his fuckin’ mind.”

He leans down, voice a snarl in your ear.

“Well, congrats, baby. You broke me.”

His free hand slips down, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight little circles just to hear the way you whimper. You clamp down around him like you’re gonna cum soon.

“That’s it, fuckin’ take it,” he mutters, half-lost in his own filth. “Take big brother’s cock. So proud of my little slut—makin’ me come in my hand every night. Leavin’ your scent on my fuckin’ pillows. I should’ve known you knew.”

Your legs start to shake.

“Oh, you gonna cum?” he taunts, hips slapping into your soaked thighs. “Gonna cum on your brother’s cock like a dirty little inbred whore?”

You sob out a yes.

He grabs your throat, pulls you up so your back arches, so he can whisper filth straight into your ear:

“Cum for me, little sis. Cream on big brother’s cock so I know you’re mine.”

And you do.

Hard.

Shaking and gasping, cunt pulsing around him like you were made for this.

And Johnny?

Johnny’s not far behind.

“Gonna fuckin’ breed you,” he growls as his hips slam forward, burying himself to the root, balls tight, cock twitching. “Fill you up right here on the fuckin’ couch—where anyone could walk in, where Mum used to make us sit for family photos—fuck—”

He groans low and ragged as he spills inside you, hot and filthy, hand clamped over your mouth to keep you from screaming too loud.

After, he doesn’t pull out.

Doesn’t let you up.

Just lays there over you, breathing hard, chest heaving against your back, cock still twitching inside.

“You’re never gettin’ away from me now,” he murmurs, voice thick with sweat and come and obsession. “Not after this.”

Not after you made big brother your personal ruin.

You're still face down on the couch, twitching under him, his cum leaking down your thighs.

But he’s not done. Not even close.

His fingers dig into your hips as he starts to move again—slow at first, then harder, meaner. His cock’s still thick, still buried deep inside you, and now it’s soaked in slick and his own mess.

And he leans in, whispering filth right into your ear.

“You ain’t even my real sister,” he mutters, kissing the side of your throat like it’s a confession, “but fuck if I don’t wanna pretend you are.”

Your breath catches.

“You like it when I say that, yeah?” His hips grind against your ass, cock hitting the deepest spots. “Like hearin’ your big brother call you a fuckin’ incestuous little whore?”

You moan. You hate that you moan.

But God, it ruins you.

“You’re not even blood,” he growls, voice shaking, “but I think about it all the fuckin’ time. Pretend you are. Pretend I watched you grow up, used to sneak into your room just to see what kinda panties my little sis wore—used to jerk off with your name in my mouth.”

You whimper under him, thighs trembling again.

“Dirty little thing,” he hisses, hand wrapping around your throat. “Would it be worse if you were mine? If we had the same mum and da? Same blood? Still wouldn’t stop me. I’d still fuck you just like this.”

He pulls back just to watch—watch the way your body stretches around him, how you drip for him. How you’d let him do anything.

“I’d still bend you over the couch. Still ruin you. Still fill your womb every night like it’s my fuckin’ right. Like you were born for me.”

His breath is hot against your back. His thrusts start to shudder—harder, deeper, sloppier.

“Say it,” he pants. “Say you’re my little sister. Say you like it.”

Your voice is shaking, raw, almost crying—but not from pain.

“I’m your little sister, Johnny,” you whisper.

His hand tightens on your throat.

“Say you need your big brother’s cock.”

You sob it—needy, wrecked. “Need it—need my brother to fuck me—always have—”

That’s all it takes.

He cums again, burying himself so deep you swear you feel him in your gut. Hot, filthy, possessive. And he doesn’t pull out. He won’t.

Even if you’re not blood, even if it’s pretend—he’ll keep fucking you like you are. Keep whispering filth into your ears until you forget what’s real.

Because it’s his fantasy now.

And you’re never getting out of it.

[humpster35]

Bsf!Chris x Bsf!reader

|dryhumping, confession, cum in pants, hair pulling, kissing and oral(m! receiving).

It was eight o’clock. Nick had gone to bed, Matt was gaming again and Chris scrolled through his phone. This was a typical night for you guys, you would come over and Chris would just wanna have your presence around.

You close your eyes, deciding to lay across Chris’s bed. This was comforting for you, the smell of his cologne—so infused into his bedsheets and the softness of his dark covers. Your eye lids slowly felt heavy until Chris started to hover over you.

You could tell it was him due to the dangling of his chain, the way he was breathing and his hair starting to tickle your nose.

“Chris. Cmon man i’m trying to sleep.” You groaned as you opened your eyes to see a smiling Chris looking down at you.

Chris only smiled more as he leant down to hug you. The boy was clearly in some kind of mood, he only wanted to show extra affection if he was feeling generous—otherwise, you guys would be fighting like siblings.

“Wanna hug you. What can I not hug my best friend?” Chris’s breath was hot against your skin, his freckles were so pretty up close and his eyes—wait why were you thinking these things?

“Okay we can hug for like.” You check the time on your phone that read “8:45”

“For like two minutes.”

Chris happily nodded, his body was between your legs. You wore a two piece pajama suit, the shorts would get stuck in your ass—chris would tease you about this, and the shirt fit perfectly tight against your body.

“Mmm. I love hugging you so much.” Chris’s voice was basically groaning as he squeezed his arms around your upper body, while his lower body unintentionally moved up and down against yours.

You started to whimper as you felt Chris’s hard on. Being friends for this long—you never once saw Chris in this light nor have you guys talked about stuff like this. It was almost like a forbidden subject. There’s been times in the past however, where Chris has had to bring you a pad in the bathroom if Nick wasn’t home.

“Y/n you’re so comfy. Feel so good.” Chris placed a kissed to the side of your face. You blushed and hugged him closer. This was a new sensation you were feeling, why did it feel so good?

The way Chris would lean his bulge in more to your clit and just hold it there while talking, then go back to sliding it up and down against your folds—was he trying to get off on you?

“Chris okay that’s enough hugging—this is inappropriate.” Your voice comes out in a whimper as Chris bit his lips looking down at you. He didn’t say anything just stared into your eyes.

His eyes would slowly look over every detail that you had on your face. The way your lashes would blink rapidly if he moved a little too close to your clit, how your mouth stays slightly open but then closed as you try to not make any noise and the feeling of your hands pressing into his chest—trying to get him to stop.

“Do you really want me to stop?” Chris took his hand, started to rub your pussy through the shorts— until you broke.

“Chris, please-please—no this isn’t what best friends do.” You hold his hand away, your hips still trying to move towards it for some kind of pleasure.

“Y/n.” Chris put his head near your ear as his hips starting humping against your clothed pussy. The feeling of his dick on your body felt all too normal, too intimate—too right.

“You know I think of us as more than just friends.”

Your breath hitched—your mind reeled trying to process this information. Sure you had been starting to catch feelings for your best friend, but to have Chris dry humping you while confessing his feelings?? That’s something you would’ve never imagined.

“Chris, I feel the same way.” You stroked his hair—Chris stopped moving and looked into your eyes. The silent action of his face leaning in to kiss you was nerve wracking. He hovered his lips slightly above yours, his eyes asking for permission—and with a soft nod from you, he went for it.

You moaned into the kiss. This is something you’ve always wanted, always had dreams about. You didn’t know the exact date of when you caught feelings for him—but you knew that the feeling was mutual. Chris had been always giving signs to you, giving you his hoodie—spraying extra cologne on it because he knows you like his smell. Buying you stuffed animals—he would ask you what you guys should name it, then he called it your kid. Chris was a very giving person, whether it was with his words or body or even his eyes.

His eyes gave a lot to you. They always made sure to make contact with your own eyes, if you were speaking on something. They would scan the room for you—seeing if anyone you knew was gonna be at an event or even just to protect you.

Chris knew that he had been giving his all to you, slowly over time. In this moment as your bodies lay close together, he knew that it had all been for something. Chris started to insert his tongue inside of your mouth—the instant feeling of your jaw, making his hips jerk forward.

“Mmmhp. Chris—don’t stop.” You moaned. The softness of his back felt so riveting to you, your hands were moving up and down his back—going up to reach his neck. You loved the feeling of Chris’s manly build on yours. Not in a weird way, but knowing that Chris was such a man—an actual gentleman and someone who cared about you, made the butterflies in your belly dance.

“Gonna cum feeling your tight lil pussy.” Chris started to move faster. His thrusts against your body, now made the headboard hit the wall loudly. There was no nudity, only pure emotion.

He took short breaths to try and talk to you, but it was getting hard for him to even open his mouth. You grabbed the back of his head and started to kiss him again, his pink lips would pepper kisses all against your jaw and face. Your lips trailed a line down to his neck—you wanted to mark him.

“Chris I want you all to myself.”

You watched his eyes remain closed, he wasn’t even listening to you at this point. His dick was basically out—your pussy feeling every little detail.

“Chris.” You pulled his hair which made his head go back. He groaned and opened his eyes, still thrusting against you—with wide eyes and scrunched eyebrows, he waited for you to talk.

“Your mine okay? All mine.” You kept a hold on his hair. This was your way of saying that he wasn’t going anywhere and you didn’t want him to. Chris allowed this and also wanted it.

You knew he wasn’t the type of person to let anyone do anything to his person. He had given you complete control over him, he was unconditionally yours—in mind and now body.

“M’yours. I’ll always be yours.” Chris started to drool, his body was feeling so much pleasure as you would clench your legs around his waist-then unclench to make sure he felt good. You also felt good, his muscles were flexing at everything.

He let your hand squeeze and grab at them. You wanted to almost devour him. Chris was being so good to you, so good for you. You knew he had this big and tough guy persona but—all that had changed with a couple thrusts and hair pull.

“Fuck—Yea Chris—Mhm.”

You moaned out, your voice was whispering into Chris’s ears. His body felt shivers everytime you would talk—he wanted more.

“Mm—Am I doing good?”

Chris’s voice was almost on the verge of whimpering. He could feel the obvious wet spot from between your legs—his cock continued its journey of going up and down against your folds. He wanted to be inside of you, but he knew this wasn’t the time. He knew you weren’t ready for that.

“So so so good.”

You kissed his neck again, he would whimper everytime. You knew by this point that it was a sensitive area for him. Chris started sloppily kissing you—his drool getting on your neck and chest.

“Yeaaaa that’s it—be a good boy and fuck your best friend.”

Sounds of Chris’s headboard hanging against the wall—paired with the feeling of the cold metal of chain on your face, was enough to make you and him lose control.

“Uh uh uh—oh shit i’m gonna—.”

Chris started to become weak. His body wouldn’t stop thrusting forward if he wanted it too—the wetness on your clothed pussy only made the precum on the tip of his dick throb more.

With one final hump, he spilled his seed into his sweats. Chris was above your face—breathing heavily and drooling. He couldn’t stop it, as the drool dripped slowly onto your face and chest—he bit his lip and started humping you more.

“Mmmm-yea—yea-yea—Fuck your pussy feels so good.”

You let out a strained moaned, he wasn’t letting up on you. He wanted to hump you through your. own orgasm. Seeing the way the spit fell onto your face and body—he wanted it to be cum instead.

Chris quickly took out his dick—you wasted no time by putting it in your mouth and sucking. He threw his head back while one hand rested on the top of your head. You loved tasting his love—you cousin taste the cum still covering his cock as if it was a new ice cream you were trying.

“Mmmm fuck.”

You stopped sucking and pulled away for a second—taking off your shirt. When you leaned down to put him in your mouth again he instantly came.

“Oh fuuuuckkk.” Chris moaned. His hand kept your head on his cock—not moving an inch while you swallowed all of his cum.

After about a minute of slurping down the rest of Chris’s cum, he helped you put back on your shirt—not without kissing your tits first, then you laid back down on the bed.

Chris immediately snuggled up to you, his breathing was back to normal as you stroked his hair. He felt relieved and at peace that you guys were able to finally be open and honest with each other.

“I wanna make you my girlfriend.”

Your hand stopped loved and you looked down at him. His face was flushed red—his eyes were a pure blue and his hair was messily cute.

“Chris I would love to be your girlfriend.”

Chris smiled and kissed your belly. His arms were around your waist as he started to fall asleep.

Lowkey Chris gave sub!chris in this fic.

tag list:

@mattsweethart @mattspillowprincess @sturniolofruitloop @sturnispider @sturnstarsblog @chrissonnyangel @chrissleftshoe @chrisbratt333 @starrii-sturns @riggysworld @regulaho @bernardmatthews @beabadoobeelvur @bluestriips @bernardsbendystraws @chriss-slut @chrissfavgirlie @thenickgirl @nickssidewitch @hannahsturniolo @eeyoresturnz

[jaystardust]

༘˚⋆𐙚 EGGSHELLS AND ROSEMARY

Pairing: Park Sunghoon x Reader

Genre: angst, slow burn, unrequired love, subtle fluff, 60s, apparition of Wonyoung and Heeseung, Flipped inspired

Warnings: emotional neglect, subtle classism/social rejection, passive exclusion, mention of family expectations and internalized shame

Summary: you were always just the girl across the street, sweet, simple, and never quite enough. For Sunghoon, you were always there, and that was the problem. But time has a way of shifting things: admiration fades, people change, and when he finally looks at you again… it might be too late.

WC: 6k

A/N: I worked on this being inspired by the movie Flipped because I really like it, and i thought it could be a great dynamic

————————————————————————

You had always been told that first impressions matter, but somehow, the first time you saw him, it didn’t matter at all.

Sunghoon was a stranger to you then, just another face among many in the neighborhood. But it didn’t take long for your life to be entwined with his.

The first time he moved into the house across the street, you couldn’t help but watch. The sound of moving boxes and the rustling of plastic seemed to pull your attention in, and though you tried to look away, your eyes were drawn to the way his figure moved — with a quiet grace, like everything he did was deliberate. He wasn’t like the other kids in your neighborhood, who yelled and ran around carelessly. No, Sunghoon carried a kind of calm that made you feel like an intruder simply by observing him.

It wasn’t a special day. It wasn’t the kind of moment that would be written down in a diary or remembered for years. But it was in its own small way, the beginning of something that would change everything.

He had walked to the front door, looking back at his parents and when he turned, his eyes had met yours for the briefest moment. A slight tilt of his head, a flicker of recognition — as if he too, had noticed you standing there. You weren’t sure why, but something inside you stirred.

The days that followed were filled with subtle moments, like the way his presence could be felt before he was seen, or how you could sense his movements through the sound of footsteps, a breeze in the air. He wasn’t loud but he was always there, always close enough to catch a glimpse of, if you tried hard enough.

The first time you actually spoke to him, it wasn’t like you imagined. There was no grand opening or carefully planned approach. It was a simple mistake. You were walking to school, your backpack bouncing with each step, when you tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. It wasn’t a big fall, but it was enough to make you feel foolish. And there in that instant, you had been pulled to your feet by a hand you hadn’t expected.

“Are you okay?” The voice was soft, with a faint edge of concern.

It took a moment for you to gather yourself, to blink away the embarrassment. Sunghoon was standing there, eyes focused on you, his hand still hovering, waiting for you to take it. And you did. Without thinking. His touch was gentle, like everything else about him, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause.

“Yeah,” you muttered, suddenly feeling awkward. “Thanks.”

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Be careful next time.”

That was it. No grand revelation, no heart-pounding confession. Just a simple, quiet moment. But it stayed with you, lingering in the back of your mind.

From then on, you began to notice him more. The way he moved through the world so calmly, so quietly, like he was waiting for something — or perhaps avoiding it.

You saw him at the local park sitting on the swings, his eyes focused somewhere far away.

You saw him at the ice cream truck, paying for a cone without speaking much, offering a polite smile to the vendor.

He was polite, always polite, but there was a distance about him that kept you from truly getting to know him.

At first, you didn’t think much about it. You told yourself it was just another boy, just another neighbor. But as time passed, you started to wonder about him. You started to wonder about the way his eyes would sometimes catch yours across the street, the way he always seemed to be looking at something you couldn’t see.

It wasn’t that you were drawn to him — not yet, anyway. It was just curiosity. He was different, that was all. A mystery waiting to be solved.

The seasons had passed quietly, and the world had grown around you without warning. Middle school had crept in with its awkwardness, and with it came distance — not the physical kind, but the type that forms without anyone noticing.

Your fascination with him had deepened before you even realized it. The simple, quiet boy from across the street had become a figure etched into your daily life, a rhythm you couldn’t unlearn. You had been seen waiting for him sometimes.

Not deliberately — just standing on your porch a little longer, pretending to adjust your backpack while hoping he’d come outside. Some days he did. Most days he didn’t.

And when he did, you were never really spoken to.

If he noticed your presence, nothing was ever said about it. But a shift could be felt. Eye contact that used to linger had grown shorter, tighter, more distant. Your hellos were responded to, but only politely. The kindness had never left him, but something else had replaced the quiet warmth he once offered you. And that something had hurt.

At school, he had been surrounded more often now. Boys who laughed louder, ran faster. Girls who had begun to wear lip gloss and pass folded notes. You weren’t sure when it had changed — only that it had.

Rumors had reached your ears. That Sunghoon had kissed someone behind the gym. That he had turned someone else down.

That he had said your name, once, when someone teased him. You didn’t know what was true and what wasn’t, but you had felt your heart drop every time his name was said in a sentence you weren’t a part of.

You hadn’t meant to keep watching him. You had tried not to. But old habits don’t break easily. Especially not when everylittle thing he did still mattered.

It had been during an art class when you’d been placed near him again. Accidental, but unforgettable. He had been sketching— not talking, not looking at anyone. You had glanced over, just once, and seen the page. A tree. Stark, bare, intricate. You had stared at it longer than you meant to.

“You like it?” he had asked, without looking up.

You had been startled. Words had been hard to find.

“It’s… beautiful,” you had said, truthfully.

A slight nod had been given. No smile. But something in his expression had softened, like a door cracked open for a breath of air. That moment had stayed with you longer than it should’ve.

Still, something had shifted between you — some invisible line had been drawn, and neither of you had known how to cross it again. Childhood closeness had become teenage discomfort. You weren’t a girl he ran to anymore. And he wasn’t just the boy across the street.

You had been changing, too. Learning how to speak up more. Learning to care a little less about whether he noticed. But deep down, you had still been hoping. Hoping that one day, he would look again — really look — and see what had always been there.

You had seen him after school sometimes, waiting by the curb. A new girl would join him. A laugh would be heard. The kind that stung without reason. And though you had told yourself it didn’t matter, your eyes had still followed him until he was gone.

Because once you had cared for someone so quietly, so deeply, that even when they turned away, a part of you kept reaching.

And that part — it had been growing quieter, but it hadn’t let go.

Middle school had taught you more about silence than any lesson ever could.

It had been learned that silence could be louder than words. That sometimes it arrived not as a choice, but as a consequence— of growing up, of being seen too clearly, of someone suddenly deciding to stop looking.

Sunghoon had started ignoring you in ways that couldn’t be explained aloud. No direct cruelty, no obvious insults. Just subtle shifts. A gaze that passed over you in the hallway. A group project where your raised hand went unseen. A lunch table where there had once been room, now full.

Your name had stopped being said — at least, not where you could hear it.

What had hurt more was knowing that once, there had been something different. You had been smiled at. You had been asked if you were okay. That version of him had existed — you remembered it vividly. But somewhere in the in-between, he had learned how to look away. And he had become very good at it.

You had been told, once, that his mother didn’t think highly of your family.

It hadn’t been said directly. But things like that rarely were.

You had overheard it by accident — a soft voice, a sharp tone. Something about “that girl across the street” being sweet, but simple. Something about how not everyone takes pride in how their yard looks, and somepeople just don’t value appearances. It hadn’t been meant for your ears, but it had reached them all the same.

From that day on, you had begun to notice how his mother’s smile never quite reached her eyes when she greeted yours.

How her voice grew thinner when she spoke your name, if she ever did. How her gaze would pass over your house like it was something temporary, like it didn’t quite belong.

And maybe that was where it had started. Or maybe he had changed for other reasons. But after that, Sunghoon’s distance felt colder — like it wasn’t just about drifting apart, but about choosing not to be associated.

You had tried not to let it get to you. You had told yourself it was just middle school. That boys got weird, that popularity shifted things, that he was just busy.

But then there had been that moment in the science lab — when you had dropped a glass slide and every eye had turned toward the sound. You had knelt to pick it up, and when you’d looked up, his gaze had been the only one not meeting yours.

He had looked right past you. Through you.

And that, somehow, had been worse than any laugh.

Another time, in the cafeteria, you had been walking with your tray when someone bumped into you. The milk had spilled— not much, just enough to make a scene. You had laughed it off, cheeks burning, fingers fumbling for a napkin. And from the corner of your eye, you had seen him at a table with friends, watching. Not laughing. Not reacting. Just watching. And then turning back to his food.

A part of you had waited for him to say something after. But he never had.

You hadn’t been invisible. You had been intentionally unseen.

And that kind of hurt didn’t fade quickly.

But the thing was — you had never confronted him. Not once. Not even when the silence had become loud. Not even when his friends had teased him in the hallway for “his little neighbor,” and he had blushed and laughed like it was nothing. You had swallowed it all. Proudly. Because you refused to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.

You had started walking a little taller after that. You had spoken a little louder in class. You had made friends who looked at you when you talked, who didn’t make you feel small. It had taken time. But slowly, you had learned how to build a world that didn’t orbit around him.

And still, despite everything, you had never stopped glancing toward his window sometimes.

Just to see if he still looked, too.

It had been decided, somewhere in your quiet heart, that maybe the distance didn’t have to stay so wide. You had begun to think that perhaps time had just been unkind — that maybe you had both simply forgotten how to be close. So, like all brave things, you had started small.

You had said hello again in the hallway — just once, soft enough that he could ignore it if he wanted to. And he had.

You had waited after class one day, the kind of wait that could be explained away as “coincidence,” just in case he noticed.

He hadn’t.

And yet, you had still tried.

You had asked him a question once about a book you both were assigned. He had answered politely, voice low, tone neutral.

There had been no cruelty, but there had also been nothing behind the words. Just facts. Just avoidance dressed in kindness.

You had told yourself it didn’t matter — that it was still better than being looked through.

But then there had been her.

She had walked into school like something out of a catalog. Wonyoung — tall, graceful, everything you had never tried to be. She had seemed to glow without effort. People had made room for her in every conversation, every group. Including his.

It had been subtle at first. A glance from him that lasted too long. A shared laugh in the hallway. Her voice saying his name in that soft, familiar way that made your stomach drop even though it had never belonged to you.

And you had seen it — the way he watched her. The way his posture changed around her. Like he was trying to be more than himself, taller, cooler, sharper.

And you had been standing there, unnoticed. Watching a boy you had once believed in reach for someone who wouldn’t have looked twice at your garden-grown dreams.

Still, the kindness in you hadn’t withered yet.

You had gone home that day and looked at the eggs from your small backyard hens — smooth, speckled, imperfect. You had thought of his family, of how they always seemed to value neatness, control, presentation. And maybe, just maybe, this was a way to remind them — to remind him — that not everything had to be polished to be worth something.

You had cleaned them carefully, placed them in a small basket with tissue paper. You had even tied a bow.

And then you had crossed the street.

You had been greeted at the door not by him, but by his mother — her eyes landing on the basket first, then on you. The smile had been given after a beat too long. A thank-you had been offered, clipped and too high-pitched.

You had handed it over and left before the silence could grow.

But you hadn’t been gone long before you’d realized you had left your gloves — soft wool, your grandmother’s, forgotten on their front step. So you had gone back. Quietly. Not to the door, but around the side.

The window had been open. The voices had carried.

“…she gave them to us again. I keep telling you, they’re not safe. Those backyard setups? No regulation. Who knows what kind of diseases…”

“Should I throw them away?”

“Yes. Just… don’t say anything. She means well, but… you don’t owe her anything Sunghoon.”

There had been silence.

And then a quiet, resigned, “…Okay.”

You had stood there long enough to memorize those two syllables.

The basket had still been warm from your hands. And somewhere in the trash, those eggs had cracked without ever being touched.

You hadn’t cried.

But something had shifted.

The hope that had always been carried — quietly, patiently — had finally started to feel foolish.

The gloves had been left where they were. They hadn’t been worth the second trip.

And for the first time, you had stopped looking at his window.

It hadn’t happened all at once.

There had been no grand declaration, no sudden snapping of strings. Just a slow, steady unraveling. The kind that couldn’t be seen until there was nothing left to tie.

You had stopped saying his name in your head. Stopped imagining the what-ifs. Stopped waiting for moments that never came. Not out of spite. Not even sadness, really. Just exhaustion — the quiet kind that lives deep in the chest and weighs more than anything you could explain.

People around you had begun to notice something different. You had started cutting your hair the way you liked, not the way you hoped someone would notice. Your laughter had returned — sharper now, earned. You had grown into your words, found people who heard you the first time.

Even your house, once a source of quiet shame, had begun to feel like home again. The garden had kept blooming. The hens had kept laying. And the eggs? They had been given to people who smiled wide and said thank you like they meant it. They had been appreciated. Just not by the boy you once thought mattered most.

Sunghoon had still existed — at school, across the street, in the places where your lives continued to barely overlap. But your eyes had stopped following him. Your heart had stopped reacting. Or so you had told yourself.

Until the day he looked at you again.

It hadn’t been a long look. It hadn’t been a smile. But it had been real.

He had been standing outside the cafeteria, laughing — not with Wonyoung, not with anyone special. Just existing. And you had walked past, holding a book close to your chest, prepared to keep going.

But his eyes had followed.

Just briefly. Just enough.

And something in his expression had changed — not surprise, not confusion. Just a quiet, dawning awareness.

It had been the first time he looked at you without expecting anything in return.

But you hadn’t slowed down.

Because by then, you had already begun to understand:

Admiration given freely is a kind of gift. But admiration that must be earned — that arrives late, after silence and shame —is not something to welcome with open arms.

So you had kept walking. And maybe that was what made him turn his head again.

Maybe it was the absence of your gaze that finally made him want it.

A week later, you had been approached in chemistry.

“You’re good at this stuff, right?”

His voice had sounded unsure, like it wasn’t used to asking. Like it had been rehearsed.

You had looked up from your notes. Blinked. Then nodded once.

“I guess.”

He had hesitated.

“Would you maybe… want to work together on the project?”

You had tilted your head. Not cruelly. Just curiously.

“Why me?”

He had blinked then. Caught.

“I just thought you— I mean, we— live close by, so… it’d be convenient.”

You had smiled. Not the way you used to — not shy, not eager. Just calm.

“Convenient.”

The word had been echoed. Measured.

He hadn’t replied.

And for the first time, you had seen him flinch just slightly — not physically, but emotionally. Like the version of you he thought would always say yes… no longer lived here.

Maybe that was when it began for him.

The real noticing.

But you? You had already moved on from waiting.

High school had arrived like a storm in the distance — not sudden, but loud. And with it came changes that didn’t announce themselves, only revealed in glances, choices, and the spaces between words.

You had grown quieter, but not small.

There had been something about the way you carried yourself now — not cold, not rude, just deliberate. Like someone who had learned what it meant to be disappointed… and how not to let it define her.

Sunghoon had started watching again.

Not obsessively. Not obviously. But often enough for it to be noticed — by others, by you. Though you never showed it.

In group settings, he had started standing closer. During shared classes, he had leaned over with a question he didn’t really need to ask. And outside, where your houses still stood facing one another like old secrets, his front porch had seen him more often. Sitting. Waiting. Like maybe if he was still long enough, you’d look again.

But you hadn’t.

Not the way you used to.

One afternoon, after school, he’d caught up to you near the bike racks.

“Hey.”

That same careful voice — too casual, too rehearsed.

You’d turned, slowly. “Hey.”

“Are you still doing photography club?”

“Sometimes.”

A pause.

“That’s cool,” he’d said, as if the words were new in his mouth.

You had given a small smile — polite, distant.

“You should come to the showcase next month,” he’d tried again. “If you want.”

“Maybe,” you’d said. No promise. No sparkle.

And that had been the beginning of a pattern.

He had started appearing where he hadn’t before. Study groups. Club meetings. Community clean-up days. Always hovering near enough to be noticed, but never quite enough to matter.

There had been a day when he’d walked past your house and paused — long enough to ask if your garden still had the rosemary bush he liked.

“It does,” you’d said, folding your arms.

“Cool. I kind of missed the smell.”

You had raised an eyebrow.

“Didn’t know you remembered it.”

He had smiled then, a little sheepish. “I remember more than you think.”

But you hadn’t smiled back.

Because what he remembered was no longer your responsibility.

It had been strange, watching the shift. How the boy you used to ache for had begun to soften around the edges — not quite humbled, but uncertain. And how, now that he wanted your attention, it had stopped being something you offered so freely.

You weren’t cruel. That had never been your way.

But you had learned.

Learned how to keep parts of yourself folded away.

Learned that not everyone who knocks deserves to be let back in.

And learned — most of all — how to be seen without needing to be chosen.

Sunghoon hadn’t figured out what to do with this new version of you.

The version who laughed more easily with others.

The version who walked past him in the hall without her heartbeat stuttering.

The version who could look him in the eye and not feel small.

And that — more than anything — had begun to haunt him.

The first time Heeseung spoke to you, it was raining.

Not the heavy kind — just enough to soak the sidewalk and give the world a silver sheen. You had stayed after school to help set up for the club showcase, camera bag slung over your shoulder, sleeves damp from lifting chairs.

He had appeared beside you with an umbrella and that easy half-smile seniors always seemed to wear without effort.

“You take photos, right?”

The question had landed casually, as if it wasn’t the third time he’d passed by your table that week.

You’d glanced up. Nodded once. “Sometimes.”

“Cool. I’ve seen your stuff on the board by the library. You’ve got a good eye.”

You had blinked. Not because of the compliment — but because of the way he said it. Like it was a fact. Not a favor.

He had offered to carry a box inside, and you had let him. Not because you needed help, but because it had felt different from all the other times someone offered out of politeness or pity or obligation.

And from across the room, Sunghoon had watched it happen.

He had been there too, helping with his own club’s table. His sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy, doing everything right — except being the one you were looking at.

He had noticed the way you laughed at something Heeseung said — not loudly, just softly, like you didn’t have to force it.

He had noticed the way Heeseung stood close enough to listen without ever stepping over.

And he had noticed the way you leaned in — not like the girl who used to chase, but like someone who had learned how to be wanted.

And something inside Sunghoon had folded.

Not jealousy. Not exactly.

Just realization.

That maybe someone else had begun to see what he hadn’t.

That maybe admiration had an expiration date.

And that maybe — just maybe — you were no longer waiting to be chosen.

He had tried not to care.

But it had stayed with him.

Later that night, after everything had been packed away, he had walked home slowly. He had seen your porch light on. Your silhouette moving through the front window. And for the first time in a long time, he had been the one watching.

You hadn’t looked out.

You hadn’t needed to.

He had been the one left wondering now.

It started with small things.

A returned smile in class. A hesitant wave in the hallway. A notebook you accidentally left behind, returned with your name whispered instead of called.

None of it was dramatic. Sunghoon was never the dramatic type.

But something in the way he moved around you had shifted — like he was orbiting again, closer than before. Hovering near your locker. Taking the long route between periods that conveniently passed your usual path.

You had noticed.

Of course you had.

But you had learned the difference between attention and intention.

And this? This felt like guilt in the shape of curiosity.

So you had been polite.

You hadn’t shut him out completely. You had answered when he spoke. You had nodded when he offered a small compliment on your photography. You had even smiled once — soft, distant, the kind of smile you’d give to someone you used to know well.

But you hadn’t opened the door again.

Not like before.

One afternoon, it finally cracked.

You had been sitting under the maple tree near the field — the one that always turned red before the others in autumn. You’d had your camera in your lap, notebook beside you, back against the bark. Alone, and content.

Footsteps had crunched through the leaves. His.

“Hey,” he’d said.

You’d looked up. Blinked. “Hi.”

He’d stood there for a second too long before sitting beside you — not too close, but not far enough to feel like nothing.

“I miss this,” he’d said. “Talking to you.”

You hadn’t replied at first. Not because you were angry, but because you had nothing to say to that. What version of “this” did he miss? The girl who used to chase him? Or the one who no longer needed to?

He’d picked at the grass between his fingers.

“My mom was wrong. About the eggs. About your family. I… should’ve said something.”

You had looked at him then, steady.

“You didn’t.”

“I know.”

Silence had filled the space again, thick and quiet.

“I was stupid,” he’d said, voice lower now. “I thought it didn’t matter. But it did. I think about it a lot.”

You had nodded once. Just once.

“Thinking about it doesn’t fix it.”

He had flinched — not visibly, but inwardly. You could feel it.

“I know that too,” he murmured.

There had been another pause before he looked up.

“You and Heeseung…”

Your expression had stayed neutral.

“What about us?”

“Are you guys…?”

You hadn’t smiled. You hadn’t fumbled. You had simply met his gaze and asked,

“Would it matter if we were?”

And in that moment, you had seen it: the fear he’d never worn before. The realization that his chance — the one he hadn’t valued — might have passed entirely.

He had looked down again, the weight of it all too much for his eyes to hold.

“You were always there,” he said. “And I never saw it until…”

“Until I stopped being,” you finished, softly.

He’d swallowed hard. Nodded.

You had stood then, brushing leaves from your jeans. Picking up your camera.

Looking down at him in the same way you once waited for him to look at you.

And then you’d said the quiet truth:

“You liked me most when I stopped liking you.”

And with that, you’d walked away.

Not angry.

Not broken.

Just whole.

Heeseung never asked for more than what you were willing to give.

That had been the most surprising thing about him. How easy it was to exist beside him. How he never demanded answers, never waited for performances. He just showed up — consistent, kind, and calm.

It had started with late afternoons at the library. Conversations that drifted from assignments to favorite books. From there, came coffee runs before meetings, notes exchanged in quiet understanding, laughter that made you forget how tightly you’d once held yourself around others.

Heeseung was steady in ways you hadn’t known to want before.

He didn’t try to impress. He didn’t hover. He just… listened. Not with pity. Not with agenda. Just presence.

One evening, he had walked you home after a club event, his hands tucked in his coat pockets, the wind pulling at the ends of your scarf. You had talked about futures — not in that dramatic, overreaching high school way — just gently, curiously.

As if dreaming was allowed.

He had paused at your gate and said, “You’re not like most people.”

You had smiled, not flustered.

“Is that good or bad?”

“Good,” he’d said, without hesitation. “But not because you’re trying to be. You just are.”

And that had been it. No confession. No lingering stares. Just a quiet truth handed over and accepted.

And maybe that’s why you stayed close.

Not for romance.

Not for distraction.

But for peace.

A kind of friendship that didn’t have to be named to be real.

But from the outside — from across the hallway, from behind cafeteria tables, from driveways where a boy stood pretending not to watch — it looked like something else.

To Sunghoon, it looked like he was too late.

Because he didn’t see the stillness of it. The comfort. The way your hand had never reached for Heeseung’s the way it once did for his.

He only saw your smile.

He only saw you leaning in.

And what he didn’t understand was that you weren’t his to understand anymore.

One morning, he had approached you in the hallway, heart pounding beneath a carefully neutral face.

“Hey, I was wondering…” He’d rubbed the back of his neck, glanced toward Heeseung across the room. “Is something going on between you and him?”

You had blinked once. Not surprised. Just… tired.

“Why do you want to know?”

He hadn’t answered right away. Just shrugged.

“I guess I was just curious.”

You had looked him in the eye. Not cold. Just clear.

“You didn’t ask when it mattered.”

And before he could find the words, Heeseung had walked up behind you with a quiet smile and a book you’d left behind.

“You forgot this.”

You had taken it gently. “Thanks.”

And then, with a glance toward Sunghoon — who was standing frozen in a thousand realizations — you had turned and walked down the hall beside someone who saw you, even if it wasn’t the way Sunghoon feared.

Because not all bonds were built on desire.

Some were built on dignity.

On being seen — not as someone to chase, but as someone to respect.

And in the end, that was the part Sunghoon had never understood.

Not yet.

It happened at the end of the year, just before graduation.

The air had started to smell like summer again — grass freshly cut, sun warming the sidewalks. You had been packing away your camera gear after your final photography showcase. He had waited until the room emptied, until the noise faded. Until it was just the two of you.

Sunghoon.

Still handsome in that quiet, reserved way. Still uncertain when it came to you.

He had stood across the room like someone deciding whether to cross a bridge already burned.

“I don’t want to leave things like this,” he’d said.

You had glanced up. Blinked once. “Like what?”

“With you. Us.”

There had never really been an “us,” but you didn’t say that.

He walked forward slowly, hands in his jacket pockets. Like maybe if he moved gently enough, the truth wouldn’t sting.

“I was scared,” he said. “Back then. Of what people thought. Of what it meant to like someone who didn’t fit into the version of life my parents drew for me.”

You’d stayed quiet. Letting him speak.

“I kept thinking I’d have more time to figure it out. That one day, when I was ready, you’d still be there.”

You had looked at him — not with anger. Just with the kind of sadness that only comes from clarity.

“But I wasn’t,” you said.

“I know.”

A silence settled.

“I think about it a lot,” he added. “How I saw you every day and never really saw you until you stopped waiting.”

You smiled then, just a little. Not unkind.

“Sometimes we don’t see the right things until they stop needing to be noticed.”

He flinched — not from the words, but from the truth in them.

“I used to think it would be us,” he admitted. “That eventually, we’d… circle back.”

You paused, thoughtful. Careful.

“So did I.”

He looked up at that. His breath caught.

“But I let go of that version of us a long time ago,” you said, softly. “Not out of bitterness. Just… peace.”

He swallowed hard. Nodded.

“And Heeseung?”

You shook your head once. “He’s important to me. But not in the way you think.”

A beat passed.

Sunghoon exhaled. Long. Slow. Like something inside him had finally broken loose.

“Do you think we ever had a real chance?”

You considered it.

“Maybe,” you said. “But a real chance needs real courage. And back then… you weren’t brave enough.”

He didn’t argue. He couldn’t.

You stepped past him then, camera bag over your shoulder, fingers curled lightly around the strap.

Before you left, you paused.

“Take care of yourself, Sunghoon.”

And that was it.

No kiss. No dramatic goodbye. Just a truth, delivered gently, to the boy who had waited too long to look again.

He watched you go, standing in the soft light of the hallway, where shadows stretched long and quiet.

And maybe for the first time, he understood what it meant to love something only when it’s no longer yours to hold.

[mintyys-blog]

I am obsessed with your Thragg writings darling!!! You are the reason why I have become obsessed with this beast of a man cause even if I know he would kill me I just can’t help but become obsessed with him. He’s just so 🤤🤤🤤🤤. Anyways I’ll ask for a request if possible before I go into a rant about this beast that I know a bit about. So I’m thinking about a few ideas and I’ll admit my ideas are a bit on the softer character side because I could not think of something badass. So I’m thinking either Rosalina reader like from the Mario games. Since Rosalina is guardian of the cosmos I can imagine Thragg wanting her because he believes with her powers he can take over more planets and galaxies. Of course Rosalina reader is horrified about this and refuses Thragg and obviously he gets mad. But he doesn’t immediately kill her and decides to woo her a bit. Like he gives her presents from planets and empires he has destroyed ie precious jewels and fabrics. Rosalina reader starts liking him a bit but she holds her duties above anything else. Maybe a bit down the road Thragg also likes reader back a bit and I’m not saying he’s a love sick fool just that he holds some sort of affection for her. Maybe at the end reader and Thragg have a smut scene and if I forgot that you don’t do full on smut maybe something a bit spicy for the ending. The other idea is bimbo reader. She serves no purpose besides being some arm candy for Thragg or a plaything. Bimbo reader doesn’t care that Thragg kills and destroys planets as long as he brings her something shiny and pretty. She’s a bit of a sadist knowing she may be wearing something that Thragg took off somebody he killed. The ending could be a smut scene unless I again forgot you don’t do smut so a bit spicy at the end. Bimbo reader asks Thragg for a baby because she’s lonely since he tends to be gone a lot. So I hope you can form something out this garbage pile I requested. Anyways thank you for all the amazing writing you do and make sure you stay hydrated and have delicious food queen.

ARM CANDY | thragg x bimbo! reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: blood, murder, breeding, implied sex, smut (not detailed)

You weren’t built for war. You weren’t bred for blood. And yet, you wear it like silk.

Silken gowns stitched from the riches of empires. Gemstones ripped from the necks of crying queens. Golds melted from the crowns of fallen kings now drape your curves, clinging like they know their place—just like you do.

You sit pretty beside Thragg, legs crossed, smile sugar-sweet and dumb as you swirl wine too expensive to exist. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. His presence alone silences the war room. You just twirl a glossy strand of hair around your finger and bat your lashes while generals sweat and diplomats tremble, wondering what it is that makes a god like him keep a thing like you.

They don’t understand.

You’re not his weakness.

You’re his proof—that even in his universe of ash and ruin, he can carve out something soft, something glittering, something that purrs for him and him alone.

And oh, how you purr.

He parades you through halls built from bones and stone, a smile tugging at his lips—not one of kindness, but of possession. You don’t walk. You float. Arm looped through his, heels tapping with the rhythm of conquest. Every Viltrumite watches, and you love it. Let them see. Let them burn.

You giggle as he lifts your hand to kiss your fingers. Blood still stains his knuckles. “Mmm, this one bled more than the last,” you muse, admiring the massive ruby he slipped onto your finger hours ago. Still warm.

Thragg’s voice is low, near-purring. “He screamed for his children.”

You hum, pleased. “Cute. Do I get the rest of his jewels?”

“If you behave,” he answers, lips brushing your temple.

Your grin turns wicked. “Oh, baby. When do I not?”

But behind the giggles and glitter, you’re lonely. You won’t admit it, not out loud—not to anyone but him. When the ship is quiet, and there’s no parade to walk, no galaxy to bedazzle, you curl up on his throne and sigh.

“Thragg,” you coo softly when he returns from yet another massacre. “I want a baby.”

He stills. You rarely ask for anything real. Not gifts. Not planets. This makes him pause.

You tilt your head, voice dropping into something breathy, needy. “I get so lonely when you’re gone. I want something of you with me. Something warm. Something ours.”

There’s silence. Then his hand grips your jaw—not rough, not tender, but firm. He looks into your eyes like he’s trying to decide whether he’ll ruin you with affection or domination.

“Then beg,” he growls.

You do. With a sweet pout, a giggle, and a wicked glint in your eyes, you beg.

The Thraggs personal chambers was quiet. No generals. No diplomats. No blood-drenched gifts waiting in boxes made of broken bones. Just you sprawled across Thragg’s massive bed—lace tangled at your thighs, diamonds dusting your skin like they grew from it.

He’s been gone for hours.

So, of course, you pout. You lounge dramatically, sigh like a spoiled star, and wonder out loud if your pretty little throat will forget how to moan if he keeps ignoring you like this.

But when the door hisses open, and that towering silhouette fills the frame, your pulse flutters.

“About time,” you coo. “I was getting lonely.”

He says nothing—just stalks across the room like the predator he is. His eyes rake down your bare body, over your soft limbs, over the glint of sapphires nestled in the valley of your breasts.

“I wore the blue ones,” you add with a breathy little pout. “The ones you took from that ice planet. The one where the princess screamed when you—”

Thragg’s hand is around your ankle in a blink, yanking you to the edge of the bed like you’re weightless. You gasp, then giggle, biting your lip.

“What?” you tease. “Not in the mood to talk about your kills, baby?”

He doesn’t answer with words.

His hands are on you—rough, hungry, worshipful and possessive all at once. He touches you like you’re sacred and obscene in equal measure. Like he’s remembering every curve he’s claimed and wants to remind you they all still belong to him.

He strips the lace with a single motion, rips it down the center, tosses it like it’s trash. Then his mouth is on your thigh, warm and bruising, dragging upward. Your giggle breaks into a gasp.

“You parade around in the spoils of my war,” he growls, breath hot at your ear. “Now open your legs and show me you remember who won it.”

That’s what does it.

Not a gentle whisper. Not a romantic declaration. Just that—low, vicious, edged with victory. He doesn’t have to say you’re mine. He’s already carved it into your hips with his hands, into your throat with each bruised kiss, into your lungs with every breathless moan he forces out of you.

Your head tips back as he presses into you, slow and deliberate. Not teasing. Claiming. You whimper, legs wrapping around his waist, nails digging into his back. He groans into your neck, hand gripping your jaw so you can’t turn away, so you have to feel the full weight of what he’s doing to you.

“No one else gets to touch what I’ve built with my hands,” he mutters against your skin. “No one else gets to ruin something this perfect.”

You want to scream. Instead, you gasp, shudder, arch under him—luxury and violence colliding in your veins.

When it’s over, you’re barely breathing.

Hair a mess of silken tangles, lips swollen from kisses that feel more like battles, your thighs ache from being held open like that for so long.

And still… you smile. “Better bring me diamonds next time,” you whisper, throat raw and pretty. “Or I’ll cry.”

He brushes his thumb across your lower lip, watching your body rise and fall beneath him—conquered, spoiled, adored.

“You’ll get your diamonds,” he says. “And your baby.”

Because you’re not just arm candy. You’re a monument. A masterpiece. And Thragg never leaves his trophies unattended.

[whateyescantsee]

When the Past Clings to the Present

Part Two

Summary: The past visited Remmick in his sleep.

Notes/Warnings: Some fluff with Remmick from his past. No warnings. Trying to flesh his character out some more. This is definitely before the movie.

I did include some Gaelic. Love of my heart: A ghrá mo chroí

Thank you so much for reading my tale for Remmick. He has certainly taken a hold. ❤️s, feedback, comments & reblogs are appreciated.

Puffy, white clouds glided across the clear blue sky and the sun was warm. He had snuck away from tending to the horses to just lay on the gentle hill by the ponds. Distantly, a toad let out a guttural ribbit. The grass was soft and thick under him. Tonight, he had planned to visit Avalina and her family. Perhaps, he’d bring her mother a pot of his own mother’s fresh honey. Yes, yes he would do that. He smiled imagining her response to the small gift.

“And what are you doing here Remmick?”

The voice was filled with mirth and laughter and as light as a bird’s song.

He shielded his eyes from the sun, and gazed up to brilliance of you standing over him.

He raised himself up onto his elbows.

“A ghrá mo chroí,” His heart beat steadily, as a dusting a pink filled your cheeks.

“I could say something the same, don’t ye cows need some attending.”

He gave you playful smile despite the soft admonishment.

You nodded, tucking a stray fiery strand behind your ear you sat down beside him, tucking your dress under you.

“The cows will get along chomping away at the grass in the meadow.”

“Sure they will love the horses, will enjoy trotting around.”

You leaned against him. It made him sigh.

“I missed, you Remmick. Two days without sight of you made my heart wilt and have no song.”

He knew you would. He had missed you, as well.

“My family needed me to tend to things. But I was going to pay a visit tonight. I will have a gift for your mother.”

He glanced at you.

“You will? Oh, I feel grand again.” Your face brightened and your eyes twinkled like precious stones.

“Good my love.”

Feeling strong, turning towards you he cupped one of your cheeks. His thumb gently caressed it. He eyed the dusting of kisses from the sun that sprinkled your cheeks. Drawing closer, he longed to finally kiss you.

You trembled, he gently pulled back worried he had offended you and been too bold.

“I’m sorry.” His voice hoarse, he swallowed hard.

“Oh please, don’t stop.” You said in a very soft voice, that a breeze could have stolen.

“I did not offend you?” He swallowed.

“No, I long to feel a kiss from you.”

He chuckled, it was deep from his belly. “Darling, I want to. I want to kiss you where the sun already left its kisses on your cheeks, on your lips that remind me of the most beautiful flower.”

His heart lurched painfully, as he caught sight of a cloud of men.

“Remmick, why…”

Your voice trailed off as a stillness came over him, a chill chased itself down his back.

“What is it?” Then you twisted beside him what had caught his eye.

“Who are they?”

“I don’t know.”

Off, far off was a bunch of riders on horses the dark fabric of their clothes swirled around them like smoke would around a fire.

*******

He startled awake, he bit back on the moan of pain that wanted to bubble forth at the time shared with Avalina. He rolled over. He looked at the crude wooden slates of the shed. No sunlight tried to slide its light between the boards. He easily sprung up from where he laid.

Looking in a corner, Jacob was hunched over, still soundly aleep. He was a young fella they had heard singing at a fair, in the industrious state of New York. His yearning for adventure is what made him follow him and the gentle of his young wife’s hips between the large beige tents. He knew how unusual and alluring the image he carried with him wherever he went.

He had tasted alright. A little too young for his liking. His blood had no maturity to it. Or perhaps, it was the disease that would have snatched him away in perhaps a year or two if they had not crossed paths with him. Now he was clear of it and could continue to sing with the mood high in the inky sky.

Those maladies didn’t bother him, just made the blood not as satisfying. So he allowed, his young wife eat her fill.

He glanced down at her now. Hair, like the earth under them framed her face. Sleep still held onto her.

Despite the gift he gave her, she had kept her good heart. Her nimble fingers that danced along a piano was what had drawn his interest to her, that wintery day when an innkeeper let him in. It was a welcome reprieve to the howling of the winds. He had desperately wanted to feed on at least the innkeeper but waited to see if there were other more tasty morsels also seeking shelter.

There had been and the way you, you easily wilted like a daisy in his arms, he knew he had to take ye with him.

Stretching, he ran his fingers through his dark strands. He longer for a bath. Now that he had grown accustomed to them, he enjoyed them. Going over to door, he felt the wood. The warmth of the sun was not there. He carefully pulled open the door.

The sun was barely there. The light blue of evening was blanketing the sky. He opened the door further and stepped out. He pulled his suspenders onto his shoulders. Sniffing the air, his smile crooked with his memories spread across his face. There was a gathering not far from here, they could all surely feed.

[xlun1ax]

III) Lover scenario

~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~

❥ Being difficult > reader x lover

• Your lover is sad you didn't give attention

Cuddle, attention, kisses, fluff, slight angst, slight suggestive

♡⃕

You're always making him confused.

He doesn't know why you're like this you just are. He remembers clearly yesterday you were acting like a bachelor. All you did in the morning, at night, when he's home, is that you just nodded when he greets you.

Barely a smile.

You barely talked.

You brush him away when he's trying to be affectionate.

Were you mad at him?

He asked if he did something wrong he even apologized for who knows what he did. He wonders if he breathed too loud that got you so distant like this.

But no,

You're just treating him like a roommate.

He's ready to punch a wall.

And that is what exactly he did.

“ouch..” he muttered While treating his wounds.

Yup it didn't work.

You still acted like a roommate. It's pissing him off.

Well it's not like you don't care. You do you just don't know how to approach the subject. Is he stressed with work? Is that why he punched the wall? Is something happening that he can't say out loud?

All you did when he made that hole was grab a medical kit gave it to him. But now sitting beside him his glare just says he's mad.

“you're looking at me as if I punched the hole” you say indifferently while watching the tv. Well that jap certainly did something considering he halted slightly before letting out a sigh “what's the deal.. did I do something?” he asked almost weak while tending his wounds his eyes landed on yours searching for answers.

“what no, what are you saying you did nothing” you replied with a confused tone though now that he spoke you think you got a faint idea. He clenched his fist as if the wound from earlier wasn't enough already he took your wrist pulling you closer with narrowed eyes

“then why are you ignoring me.” his voice low almost glaring at you he needs answers he needs it that's why you saw it a faint melancholy in his eyes. In a way you knew this would happen but you didn't think he would punch a wall just to get your attention now you just feel bad.

It wasn't on purpose.

But would he understand this is just what you normally do?

Your eyes darted examining his face the faint sweat, the almost teared eyes. Just two days of being distant. He's already so tortured. Imagine if you're ignoring him for more.

Why do you do this. Always hurting others.

“... sorry. But i never told you to stay” you muttered softly. But you didn't mean to say that last one out loud. Glancing your pupils at him.

But it was too late, your lover's eyes are already opened wide he gritted his teeth in frustration as a shadow cast upon his face.

There they go, you don't need another person pitying you again, getting mad at you again why won't they understand. You don't want that.

But to your surprise. He smiles at you cupping your face “i guess it's a relief that i decide to consult you early on.. must have been lonely ” he says softly kissing the corner of your eye. “you meant that sorry didn't you? Seriously you're so confusing everyday I feel like I'm learning something new about you” he laughs but you didn't laugh too if anything you feel

Threatened, confused

“y-you're not, mad?” you stuttered by surprise you just didn't get it normally people wouldn't react like this you mean it's not completely out of question it's just puzzling.

“why should i? No matter how difficult you're being i would always sit beside you even if you don't ask” he says with a bright smile.

You paused but without realizing a slight tug of smile was about to make it's way on your face. “hey!” Before he decides to pinch your nose making you let out a scowl instead.

He was frustrated but relief took over as he crashed his lips on your soft pinks it was soft, deep, with longing, and understanding as he pulled back resting his forehead on to yours “be as difficult as you want but seriously don't scare me like that i thought you were gonna break up with me” he chuckles with a small smile but you saw it.

The hint of anxiety in his eyes and language.

The evidence is all there he loves you.

And no amount of self doubt can make you blind to the obvious. In a way you felt in debt for the pain you made him feel, so it's only fair.

“lovely, can make me feel full” you asked with a soft smile and half lided eye. And he knows all too well what that means “as you wish my love” he says softly kissing you slowly laying both of you down on the couch.

As the night grew quite only thing visible for you two was the longing of love. The feeling of belonging.

The feeling of no matter how much you guys are being difficult the other would be there to understand and keep each other company.

And that's beautiful.

⢷

Turns out you just felt overstimulated and got tired with keeping up your image that you decide to ignore everything

~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

A/n:- As always thanks for reading luv you bubs<3

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

©xlun1ax do not copy, translate or post author's work on other platforms

[bellaxgiornata]

Letters from the Outside 3:| Persistent Little Thing

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.3k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

warnings/tags: 18+; prison!Jax, bit of sunshine/grumpy dynamic, prison pen pals, fluff, angst, mentions of violence, potential smut, canon-divergence, Reader has a brother, mainly short pieces about Jax and Reader's letter correspondence

a/n: How many of y'all caught the fact that Reader is a rival MC president's sister? Just a fun little fact that we know that Jax and Reader have no idea about... Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

series tag list: @kmc1989 @callmesev @secretlysamcro @steviebbboi @anonymouse1807 @bonnyclydecat @chloe-skywalker @kaydallas21

Laying back on his bed along the stiff and musty mattress, Jax stared at the ceiling above himself. His attention was fixed on the few strange stains along the cement above him, his arms folded behind his head on the flat pillow. He'd stared at them long enough now that he’d begun to see familiar patterns in the rust-colored splotches as he mentally zoned out.

Because as usual, Jax’s mind was currently back home this morning even if his body was not. 

His thoughts drifted to waking up in his comfortable, queen-sized bed to the quiet coos of Abel on the baby monitor, the soft morning sun streaking past the curtains and into his bedroom. He could just imagine flinging the sheets off of himself before wandering down the hall to Abel's room and being greeted with a happy giggle and a little smile on his son’s face. And then Abel would pull himself up in his crib, excitedly crying out the word ‘dada’ in his small voice as he raised his hands up in a silent demand to be picked up.

He’d carry Abel out of the bedroom and down the hall, plopping him in his high chair in the kitchen. Jax would begin making himself a fairly decent cup of coffee–one that wasn’t burnt to complete shit like it was in prison when he got it. Then he’d focus on making Abel and himself scrambled eggs for breakfast, grinning as he listened to his son’s excited, incoherent babbling. At some point, Gemma would make her way in through the front door to pick up Abel for the day so that Jax could focus on club business.

Goddammit, he fucking missed home right now. He missed Abel so damn bad, hating that he only got to see him for a half an hour once a week. And that was only if Gemma could manage to bring him with for visitation, because he wasn't a fan of the long car rides. Admittedly, Jax’s heart sank every week he didn't step into the visitation room and see his son bouncing in Gemma's lap. Though every time he saw Abel, he looked as if he’d grown so much since the previous visit. Which only had Jax realizing just how much of his son’s life he was missing while he was fucking stuck in here.

He hated being confined in this tiny damn cell all the fucking time, unable to do anything but pace and think. He missed his fucking bike. The open road, the sun on his face, the wind whipping past him as he let his Harley loose. The loud roar of it in his ears, the feel of it in his goddamn bones.

And he absolutely fucking missed sex. Goddamn he was going to fuck as many girls as he could get his damn hands on when he got out of here. Didn't even matter who it was at this point, he'd be tempted to even put up with Ima's bullshit for an hour or two just to feel something other than his own fucking hand. 

But Jax and the guys still had quite a few months left on their sentence if they couldn't get out on parole sooner. And the thought of that weighed heavily on him every second of every day because there wasn't another goddamn thing to focus on in here but time and how fucking slowly it passed.

The familiar, loud buzz warning inmates that a guard was entering the cell block pulled Jax from his thoughts. His gaze eventually drifted down from the stains on the ceiling as he focused on the corridor. Across the hall, Moore was hunched over in his bed, his hand stuffed down his pants as he clearly jerked himself off. Jax pulled a face at the sight, glancing away and focusing on the guard pushing the mail cart, watching as he made his way down the hall.

He stopped in front of Jax’s cell, reaching into his cart and pulling out an envelope. Jax’s brows drew together when the guard turned towards his cell, haphazardly tossing the envelope through the metal bars.

“Mail for you, Teller,” he said. 

As the guard continued on down the hall with his cart, Jax’s gaze shifted to the letter on the floor. There was only one person that could've been from, and if he was being honest, he was surprised you'd even written him back after what he'd sent you. And he was even more surprised at how quickly you'd written him with how blunt and dismissive he'd been in that letter he’d written.

Pushing himself up from his bed, Jax swung his legs over the side and got up. He crossed the short distance over to his cell doors, bending over to pick up the letter from the floor. As he did, he grimaced at the sound of Moore beginning to groan across the hall.

“Gonna fucking tear that thing off if you keep it up, man,” Jax shouted over to him. “Give it a goddamn rest already.”

Jax's words were just met with another strangled groan of pleasure, the sound making Jax’s skin crawl. But unfortunately, that was fucking prison life. 

Turning around, he tried to ignore the noises as he headed back over to his bed. He sat down on the mattress, facing his back to the cell door and focusing on the envelope in his hand. He recognized the script on it this time–it was the same handwriting as the letter you'd previously sent. The one he'd stuffed under his mattress to occasionally read and roll his eyes at whenever he was bored.

“Alright, Giggles,” he muttered to himself as he reached inside the envelope, pulling out the neatly folded, off-white paper. “What bullshit did you send me today?”

Unfolding the paper, Jax was surprised to see the same amount of neatly written text as your last letter. Apparently his response hadn't remotely deterred you from writing him heaps of pointless bullshit again.

“Persistent little thing, aren't you?” he condescendingly asked the page.

Flattening the sheet along his mattress, Jax leaned over the letter and began to read. But he abruptly stopped when he saw how the letter was addressed. To a ‘Grumpy Grizzly’. For a moment, Jax sat there staring at those two words with his nose scrunched and his brows furrowed in distaste.

“Really, Giggles?” he asked the paper. “That’s what you’re fucking goin’ with? Jesus.”

With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Jax tried to focus back on the letter and not the stupid goddamn name you’d apparently given him.

Grumpy Grizzly,

Yeah, if you're going to give me a ridiculous and probably ill-intentioned nickname, I'm going to give you one back, Grumpy. Especially since you didn't exactly sign your previous letter with anything for me to call you by. If you could even call what you sent me a letter. You'd barely thrown a few sentences on some paper, I'd hate to see how you craft a grocery list.

Jax paused his reading, his expression morphing into one of mild surprise as he chuckled quietly to himself. After the first letter you'd sent him, this was not what he’d expected from you.

“So you're a fiery thing, too?” he murmured to the paper, as if he was somehow talking to you. “Didn't quite see that coming.”

But I'll cut you a little slack. You're stuck in a six by eight foot little box with no privacy all day, every day. I'd be pretty hard-pressed to be friendly myself. But still, the nickname is sticking, Grizzly. 

Jax snickered at the writing on the page, almost imagining the attitude in your voice as if you were speaking to him. Even though he had absolutely no idea what the hell you'd sound like, he oddly found himself imagining it as he continued.

You didn't quite give me much to work with in your last letter. But I guess I now know for a fact why you're in this program. I've also gathered the fact that you seem to think it's bullshit. 

“So perceptive,” he whispered sarcastically as he read.

You also mentioned that you didn't know what I hoped to get out of this. And by ‘this’ I'm assuming you mean me writing to you. Which is a rather odd thing to ask. Why would you think I'm doing this for myself? What makes you think I'm trying to gain anything from writing to you? 

So, obviously, that had me thinking.

“Of-fuckin’-course it did,” he muttered, shaking his head at the letter lying on his mattress. “You're thinking too goddamn hard over there, sweetheart. There's not a goddamn thing to think about other than the fact that you're writing to a rude jackass.”

Still shaking his head, Jax sighed deeply as he continued to read.

You must be used to people expecting things from you. Right? People needing you to do something for them all the time. Wanting something from you. Everyone must have a motive or an agenda in your life. Maybe I'm making incorrect assumptions, but that's the theory I came to and I think it's a damn good one.

But I don't have an agenda. I don't want anything from you. Even if you don't ever give me a name or tell me a damn thing about yourself. Because I'm doing this for you.

Yeah, you read that right, Grumpy. 

Jax paused his reading again, his gaze traveling away from the off-white paper and settling on the dirty wall of his cell. He didn't like how close you'd hit to the truth with your words. Especially since you didn't know a single goddamn thing about him, yet somehow you'd made a pretty fucking accurate assumption about his life.

He was used to people always wanting something from him. His brothers, his allies, rival gangs, and even his own damn mother. Everyone always had an ulterior motive. Something they were trying to get out of him, which made him feel as if people just wanted to take his resources, his freedom, his time, or his goddamn pride.

“But not you, huh, Giggles?” he muttered bitterly, attention returning to the letter. “You're a selfless little saint? Is that right?”

I heard about the program Stockton was starting and I figured I’d join it. Figured maybe me writing to someone could possibly help to ease the pain of being stuck serving out a long sentence feeling like a kenneled dog. Always told what to do and at what time. I can't even imagine what that's like. But as I said in my last letter–I'm just trying to be at least one person who treats you like a human being and not a caged animal. 

Jax paused in his reading again, staring at that last line. He didn't like the way your words hit him like they did. Because for someone who'd never been incarcerated before, you sure seemed to understand how he felt a whole lot more than he'd expected. And even worse–you sympathized with him.

He didn't like that. He didn't like that he kind of liked it, either. 

Okay, so maybe there are some things I'm hoping to get from this, I suppose. The chance to treat you like a person. Maybe give you an outlet to vent, or just another way to pass the time. Something to look forward to, even. Though, maybe that's getting a bit ahead of myself with you. Considering your last message, I'd be surprised if you even read this far. 

It's not like I'm expecting us to become friends or anything. I know better than that.

“Good, because that ain’t happening, Giggles.”

But I don't know, is there really any harm in giving me something more than a couple of angry sentences? You have to participate anyway, so why make this whole experience incredibly miserable? It's not like I know who you are to ruin whatever street cred you're trying to protect over there just because you told me about your day. Because I bet deep down there's a part of you that wouldn't mind writing more than a couple of pissed off sentences every once and awhile. Hell, maybe you could tell me about something you miss in there. You don't have to get deep and emotional and tell me about how you miss your significant other or your mom, but maybe you miss having privacy or bacon cheeseburgers. If it was me in there, I'd miss my dog.

Fuck, I don't know. Maybe this is the letter you tear to shreds because you think I'm annoying. Guess I'll find out if you even write me back. 

Either way, good luck in there, Grumpy. I know how dangerous prison life can be.

The letter ended with your name again and Jax stared at the way you'd written it. Just like last time, he really didn't know what the fuck to make of this letter from you. Except this time it wasn't just because you seemed really fucking cheerful, it was because it felt like you understood far more than you should have.

Without anything else to do for the moment, Jax picked up the letter from his mattress and turned on his bed, laying himself down as he focused on your words. Wondering if he'd end up making more sense of it afterwards, he began to reread through your letter once more. But only because he was bored as shit.

[timeoveritasconsumofigmentum]

Yandere!Professor X F!Reader

A/n: I offer all of you this small blurb as a token of appreciation for your patience on upcoming fic and my sudden absence from writing. Thank you so much for sticking around!! Btw he doesn’t have a name so uh i guess imagine your fav lmaoo. Not proofread♡

Check out my other works if you liked this one <3

📓✧˖°. 📓✧˖°. 📓✧˖°. 📓✧˖°. 📓✧˖°. 📓✧˖°. 📓✧˖°. 📓✧˖°.

She smiled innocently sat back in the chair. "What if I wanted you to hurt me? Hm? What then?"

The older male stared at her stunned, his oval frames sipping down his nose a bit. "I-, e-excuse me?"

F/n smoothed her hands on her thighs, pretending to not notice the professors eyes that followed her every movement. "I'm just joking around, jeez," she leaned forward resting her chin on her hand “loosen up."

(Insert name) licked his dry lips, watching closely how her glossed lips pronounced every syllable. "That's not very appropriate, ms.(I/n).” he stated mechanically voice rough, tearing his gaze away to stop his wandering eyes.

F/n let out a small laugh watching as the professor shifted in his chair. “I'm sorry, I'm just bored."

‘Bored?! She was bored while he was over here trying not to cream his pants like a teenager?!’ Subtly shifting the growing bulge in his pants, he clenched his jaw. "Well find a way to occupy yourself."

The young woman raised a brow at his snipped tone, an amused smile soon joining. “Find a way to occupy myself..? Hmmm," she uncrossed her legs slowly, her skirt shifting upwards. "I don't know...l finished my homework for my other periods, frankly no new books have caught my interest. So what should I do?" Her lips puckered up nearly singing the last syllable.

(Insert name) knew what was going on, he knew the second she waltzed in detention with that tiny-skirt and that tight top. That sly nymph, she tried so hard act so innocent but he could see right through her. The fake way she jumps up and down just to see her tits jiggle, the way she pouts her lips making sure to pull everyone's attention on that glossy mouth. "There's books in the back,ms (I/n)." he said slowly, shut eyes in faux annoyance imagining what lied underneath her clothes.

The young woman sighed dramatically, getting up dusting off the back of her skirt. "Fine fine, I'll keep myself busy."

(Insert name watched as she walked up to the book case, the slight sway in her hips... the soft clack of her shoes. 'Damn! Pull yourself together!' His brain hissed at himself as he scribbled a messy grade on his students assignments.

(F/n) smiled to herself as she headed over to back of classroom, of course she knew he was staring! She wasn’t blind, he had been staring at her like hungry animal for the past year. While she did find it odd at first, being the center of attention to person in his position. It began to light a fire in her belly with the taboo that revolved around the relations between student and teacher.

Granted she was in college but he was most likely a couple decades older than her. That didn't stop her from spending her late nights thinking of what he would do to her if she let him, what he thought she could take, if he would reward her for coming to him first. The thoughts making it all so deliciously forbidden.

So she decided that she wanted it to happen, she needed it to happen. By now her clothing had become somewhat shorter and tighter, and she always made sure to put some form of lip product on whenever he was watching her. Trailing breadcrumbs for him to follow, like the pervert she enjoyed.

The towering book shelf wrapped around the wall creating a small nook hidden from view. Tilting her head, her fingertips met a long velvet curtain before slowly pulled it back. A royal blue rug covered the wooden floor, with a leather loveseat squeezed into the corner of the hidden ‘room.’ Tiny fairy lights seemed to float down the ceiling barely skimming her head. "Wow." she whispered softly touching the white walls, the hidden space comfortable and cozy.

“What are you doing back here?" The familiar deep voice sent chills down her spine, a pulse beginning to thrum in her lower region. The tall older man stood at the closed curtained doorway, his stocky build looming over her.

“Nothing! I was just curious on what was back here," she looked up at him index finger curling around a stray piece of her hair, “..I didn't even know the bookshelf went in the wall." She muttered to herself bracing herself for more of his delicious yelling.

"You think you're so cute don't you?" He chuckled out, hand carding through his salt and pepper hair. Her (e/c) eyes widen, her mouth dropping open at his sardonic tone. "E-excuse me?"

“Oh don't act innocent," he scoffed slowly backing her against the wall, his muscled arms caging her in as his veiny hands rested beside her head. “Always trying to bat those pretty little eyes and thinking it’ll get you off the hook? Sorry to break it to you sweetheart, but it's gonna take a lot more to get out of detention." His ominous tone sent tingles to her aching core, her body begging her for relief.

“..What's it going to take?" She whispered looking up into his eyes, one hand creeping up to grasp his forearm the other resting on his muscled chest.

(Insert name) knew he shouldn't have followed her, but the nook was off limits to students! And she needed to follow the rules, at least that's what he told himself when he trailed after her. She looked so enchanted with the small space, the lights made her hair glitter while those damn glossy lips shaped themselves into a soft ‘O’ of wonder. It made him smile wider than he had in a while, he silently slid the curtain closed, simply observing the young woman. He knew no other teachers were on the 2nd floor, and the classroom was large enough for the door to be on the other side of the room. This would be a perfect opportunity, for them to get to know each other. It took him no time to encase her against her wall, the way her chest heaved with every breath. Her eyes looking at him swimming with surprise and desire. The warmth emitting from her body ensnared him, those soft hands placed themselves on his arm and chest. “What are will willing to do?" He found himself whispering breathlessly, meeting her eyes.

(F/n) squeezed her thighs together, staring into his lidded eyes. “Anything you want.” She whispered back.

📓✧˖°. 📓✧˖°. 📓✧˖°. 📓✧˖°. 📓✧˖°. 📓✧˖°. 📓✧˖°. 📓✧˖°.

[gunwoo-bh]

The Night Shift Epilogue [Min Yoongi x f!Reader]

MIN YOONGI x F!READER UniStudent!Yoongi AU SUMMARY: You chose a boring, quiet job at your campus’s 24-hour library for a reason: it kept you away from drama, gossip, and parties. It was positively uneventful. Until it wasn’t. 18+ MDNI cw: so much fluff, so much love, happiness all around, as usual lots of swearing, reader and yoongi are so soft for each other, warning for kissing because they love kissing. wc: 10.2k A/N: HERE WE ARE! The final chapter. I just want to say a HUGE thank you to all the love this series has gotten and while the main story may be over, this doesn't mean I'm done with these characters. I still plan on writing drabbles or Yoongi POVs. Might even open up my asks to some requests if anybody has any. I am excited for what comes next. After some rest, I do have an idea sitting in my brain that I am excited to explore. I hope you enjoy this final chapter. ;D

THE NIGHT SHIFT

EPILOGUE

FOUR YEARS LATER

“Eunhye is gonna give him so much crap…”

You snort, “I would give him crap too if it was any other day!” 

“Why is today stopping you?” Yoongi jokes.

You click your tongue, “It’s his wedding day!”

The rhythmic ticking of the indicator keeps you aware of your surroundings, turning the wheel as you make the turn. Yoongi’s laugh crackles on the speaker.

“Won’t stop the bride…”

You laugh out loud, “That’s about to be his wife so, I don’t think much can stop her anymore.” 

“You on your way now?” 

“Yeah, I just left the hotel and I’m hating on this traffic right now.”

“This is why you and I are the early ones…usually.” 

You sigh, shoulder checking quickly, “Yeah, well, someone had to go and forget the rings at the hotel so here I am, less than an hour before the wedding and I just picked up the rings…”

“I can’t believe Seokjin forgot them.” You can’t help but laugh too when you hear his laugh. 

“He had one job!”

You sigh, “Okay, baby, I am gonna hang up now so I can focus on the drive back. Tell them I am trying my hardest to make it back before but I can’t promise anything yet…”

“I will. Please drive safe?”

“I promise.” You can just imagine him pacing in whatever room he’s in. 

“I love you, see you soon!”

“I love you too!” He waits until you hang up first and you immediately dial Hwayoung’s number next, listening to it ringing until her happy and mildly anxious voice answers.

“Hiiiiiiii…please tell me you have them.”

“Rings are obtained.” 

“Oh thank fuck,” you burst out laughing, “Eunhye was willing to commit murder for this.” 

“Oh? Was she willing to risk Namjoon seeing her in the dress to kill Seokjin?” You tap your wheel as you wait for the light to turn green. 

“Uh, yeah. I don’t blame her.” Hwayoung laughs. “Your man is anxious for your return by the way, it’s all very cute.”

Blushing, you clear your throat, “Oh, is he now?”

“He hasn’t seen you in your dress yet, right? You’ve been with the wedding party all morning?”

“Uh-huh…” you sigh in relief when cars begin to move, “haven’t seen him since this morning. He’s gonna be fine…he gets to see me for the rest of the day.”

“Babe, I love you so much, but he is absolutely itching to see you. I am not even kidding you.” 

Hearing her speak about him this way, knowing you can’t see him and that all you want to do is be with him right now makes you despise having been the last one to leave the hotel the first time around before you had to go back. 

“Well, I just got off the phone with him. I am trying to make it back as quick as I can…”

“We know, and Eunhye loves you very much for that.” You ‘awe’ at her words. “Okay, I’m gonna let you drive in peace. See you soon, be safe now!”

You don’t even get a word in before she hangs up, shaking your head as you see the roads opening up. Finally. The love you hold for the people in your life is almost overwhelming because of how unconditional it all feels. 

This being the second wedding this year, Seokjin and Sohee having tied the knot a few months prior, puts you face to face with the reality of how much life has changed for everyone these last few years. You have to face just how much you have evolved as a person. Grown up. 

Therapy all those years ago had changed so many things for you, and to this day you continued attending sessions bi-weekly at least. You learned so much from facing your inner demons and fears, no longer avoiding them like you did before. It made you a better communicator and you have become a rock in your friend group in a way you never could have imagined, while also continuing to put your mental health first. It was a tricky balance but you are proud to say you mastered it.

But you weren’t alone in all of this.

You have a group of friends, no, not that. You have a family that is far bigger than the one you were born with. Now at twenty-six years old, you have everything you could have ever hoped to have. 

As you wait, yet again, at a red light you take a quick glance at the logo in the middle of the steering wheel. 

Your very own car. 

When Yoongi had offered to teach you how to drive three years ago, he was met with a resounding no and excuses, left and right. But he’s good at coaxing you out of that anxious cocoon you often bury yourself in when faced with new things. And with a little bit of effort and patience, from both of you, he taught you how to drive enough to have the confidence to follow every methodical step needed to obtain your license. 

It took you a year to achieve that goal, but at the end of that year you weren’t only met with your license but with a gift you still chastised your boyfriend, and parents, about–the car you’re sitting in right now. You love the little SUV he bought two years ago, a year after he had just purchased his own vehicle. 

It’s incredible the things you two have accomplished as a couple. How you’ve helped each other. 

Pulling up to the venue some time later, you find a spot to park the car and you make sure to not forget the rings in it as you run as fast as your heels will take you. 

Navigating the small crowd of guests present to watch Namjoon and Eunhye say ‘I do’, you spot Hwayoung and Eunji waiting for you as they take you to where Seokjin is to deliver the man the rings he forgot. 

You enter the wedding party room where Seokjin runs to you, thanking you profusely as he hugs you as his wife looks on in amusement. 

“Yeah, we’re all just lucky I was the last one to leave the hotel and that I was still close…” You gently place the rings in his hands. “Don’t…lose them.” 

He laughs and slips them into his pocket safely, “I won’t.”

You grin as you hug him again, shaking your head, “I’m shocked I made it back this quickly…”

“I’m really glad you did. I honestly thought I was a dead man.” He confesses, making you snort as you push him playfully. 

Turning around to scan the room you stop in your tracks when you see Yoongi leaning against the wall with a glass of champagne in hand. Excusing yourself, your feet carry you to where he stands as you twirl to show off your dress. You curtsy playfully before stopping in front of him. 

“That’s my girl…” he pushes off the wall, wrapping his arm around you as he pulls your body flush against his. “You look gorgeous, by the way…That dress is…” he gives you a low whistle and you smack his shoulder. 

“Stooooop.” You shake your head, skin flushed just from his words. 

At almost twenty-eight, Yoongi was the most handsome he had ever looked but again, you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of seeing him change and grow. His hair was slightly longer now, shaggy and long enough for a half-bun on some days and to tuck behind his ear most times but your favourite? Long enough to tug when you were intimate. 

“Can I kiss you or am I ruining some makeup?” He waits impatiently for your answer, constantly glancing at your lips. 

“Just kiss me.”

He doesn’t wait another moment, pulling you up and your heels make that action far easier than ever as he captures your mouth in a kiss. You bury your hand in his hair and pull him closer, his hands slipping up the length of your back and pressing between your shoulder blades. 

You pull back for air, nose to nose, “Hey…”

“Hi.” 

Pulling away to stand next to him, Yoongi hands you a flute of champagne as you sip it gently. You still never drank much but some champagne or wine on certain occasions warranted a little bit of drinking from you. 

“How long did they push it back?” 

“Not long. We’re just waiting on the okay before we go sit down…” he wraps his arm around your waist, tucking you in his side. 

You check him out, eyes languidly travelling from his feet all the way to his eyes as you grin, “You look handsome in your suit…” Your hand settles on his chest. “Scratch that, you look hot.”

His cheeks turn red within seconds as he scoffs, “You keep doing that and making me fucking blush, what the fuck–”

“Gather ‘round! We’re asking everyone to go find your seats, we’re about to start!”

It’s Namjoon’s dad.

You’re grinning proudly at your boyfriend who chugs his champagne and yours down, with you protesting that decision but he simply makes a face at you, taking your hand in his as you walk out. 

And just like everyone you find your seats, your hand reaching for his left one as you place it in your lap. You ply his fingers apart as you wait for the ceremony to begin, looking down to see how he pushes his hand down to grab your thigh. You gasp softly and grin, giving him the don’t start look as you return your focus on his hand. 

Resting your left hand on top of his, you smile as you stare at your rings. 

You aren’t engaged or married, no, but about two years ago, on that second anniversary, he bought the both of you ‘couple rings’ to wear. As a promise of a future you both wanted. Some would even call it a promise ring but he had chosen to wear one too. 

“I want people to know I’m taken without even asking.” 

The words, then, made you blush and fall in love with him even more when you didn’t think that was possible. 

You look back at him and Yoongi just smiles at you, like he knows something you don’t. 

At almost 1AM you are driving back to Seoul to go back home from the wedding. 

Yoongi is driving your car back as you drift in and out of sleep, fighting to stay awake and to keep him awake enough for what little is left of your drive. He holds your hand the entire drive back, humming to whatever music is on the radio. 

You don’t realize how much longer there is in the drive because one moment you close your eyes and the next Yoongi is carrying you in his arms, and you’re at your place. You groan when he gently puts you on the bed, leaning on your elbows as you rub your face.

“Are we back?”

“Mhm, just got back.” He’s taking his coat off, placing it over one of the many boxes in your room. “You think you can be awake enough to get ready for bed?” 

You whine, falling back on the bed as he chuckles, “Sure. I guess I could.” You groan as you sit and stand up, turning your back to him, “Unzip me, please?”

He approaches you, gathering your hair as he moves it over your shoulder. He stops moving and you glance over your shoulder when you feel his lips ghost the skin at your neck. You sigh loudly, “I’m barely touching you…” he whispers. 

“Doesn’t matter…” you exhale deeply, “we’re four years in and I will forever feel this way whenever you do that…I promise you…”

His chuckle is low and hoarse, “Way to boost my ego…”

“Mhm, we really don’t need that now…” He grins against your skin, you can feel it. 

He pulls the zipper down, helping you until it pools at your feet. You step out of it as you remove all your unnecessary jewelry, but not the ring, obviously, and find some clothes to wear to bed. 

Everything being gathered in boxes has proved inconvenient these last few days, because as careful as you have been to label everything, somehow you can’t find anything. 

“How much packing do you have left to do?” 

You grab one of his stolen hoodies, slipping it on as you point at your dresser, “That and the storage under the bed. I can definitely do that tomorrow, easy…”

“When are the people coming to pick up the furniture you sold?” He removes his tie, changing into sleep clothes.

“In the afternoon. Around 2?”

He rubs his sore shoulder, “I’ll make sure to be there in case they need help…” 

“Sounds good…” you slip some shorts on, “when are the movers coming the day after tomorrow? Did they confirm the time with you?”

“At 1PM. They say everything will be moved in by dinner time.” He walks over to you with a soft smile, gathering your face in his hands. “Keys can get picked up that same morning after nine.” 

Yeah, you still had a hard time believing this was happening.

Yoongi and you were moving in together in a brand new place. 

“You wanna go together to pick them up?” He asks.

“Of course.”

It had been an easy decision to move in together. It had been discussed many times over your years together considering you never spent nights apart after your first year together. He essentially lived with you and the girls these last two years especially when Namjoon had moved in with Eunhye, and Hoseok was also almost always over at yours. 

Telling the girls had been the emotional part because even though all of you knew these changes were happening, it still meant that you had reached the end of an era together but entering a new one. 

Hoseok and Hwayoung had found a small studio apartment and were moving out at the end of the month. Jungkook and Eunji were moving in together with the singles of the group, Taehyung and Jimin, in your soon-to-be old apartment. 

“Namjoon was apologizing right until the end that they planned their wedding this close to our move-in date…” Yoongi looks at your reflection as you wash your face. 

“Oh? It was easier for them to plan their honeymoon, no? He does realize we won’t be holding it against them, right?” You rub moisturizer over your face, staring at him. 

He shrugs, “He wanted to be there to help us. I told him we’re just glad we get to see them tomorrow night before they’re off…”

You grab your body lotion but he takes it from your hands, nodding to the counter as he wraps his arm around you to lift you on it, your legs dangling in front of him. He applies some to his hand and grabs one leg as he lathers it up and down the length of it, focused on making sure it’s evenly spread. 

“That’s very cute of them, they literally just got married and they’re sorry they can’t help us? Pffft.” He grins, briefly glancing up to you before applying the lotion to your other leg. 

“You know, you’re like a little sister to him now. Whenever he has to tell you no, it breaks his heart a little…” You smile softly, looking at his hands. “He’ll make it up to us even though he really doesn’t need to…”

“Thank you…” He looks up to you then quickly to your legs.

“Anytime.” 

He washes the excess lotion off his hands, leaning over to kiss your temple, “Ready for bed?” 

Nodding firmly, you extend your arms out as he places each of your legs around him and you tightly wrap your arms around his shoulders. You giggle when he pats your bum, burying your head in his neck as he brings you to bed for your second to last night here. 

You throw the tape on your bed when you’re done closing up one of your last boxes. 

You step back, looking at what’s left of your bedroom. Walls are bare and so is every piece of furniture except your nightstand. You grab one more box and sit down on your bed as you remove the drawer, wincing at the amount of crap you’ve thrown in there.

You dig through the accumulation of random objects until your eyes lock onto it. The box. You break out into a smile the moment you see it, opening it in your lap as you’re met with a stack of blue post-its. 

Including the very last one you’ve received. 

FOUR YEARS AGO

When you wake up the morning after, you feel exhausted but your shoulders feel light as you rub the fatigue out of your eyes. You stare at the ceiling, reaching out to the empty spot next to you as you sigh loudly.

Where is he?

You sit up, glancing down to your naked body as you begrudgingly get out of bed. Finding clothes proves easy when you simply grab his t-shirt, far too big on your small figure as it covers past your ass. You slip your underwear back on, shuffling out of the bedroom to the kitchen where you’re met with your boyfriend. 

 “Are you making us breakfast?”

He’s startled, turning around suddenly, “Jeez, when did you wake up?” 

You stretch as you wander over, “Just now…”

He finally takes in your appearance, inhaling deeply and exhaling through his teeth as he smirks, “Wow.” 

You glance to yourself then back at him, “Oh fuck off.” 

He tries to hide the smirk behind his hand, “Why? You look…really fucking good…”

Your body grows warm, shaking your head as you avoid his eyes, “I feel really fucking good…”

Yoongi grows smug, turning back around to lower the temperature on the stove, “With that out of the way…” he looks back at you, softly checking on you, “how are you feeling after our talk last night?”

You pad over closer to him, leaning against the small island separating you two, “I’m okay. A lot to figure out but one thing at a time, right?”

“Mhm.” He nods. “Is counselling helping?”

You nod, “I was…resistant at first, I was probably just stubborn.” He chuckles, grabbing a tangerine from the fruit bowl as he begins peeling it. “But I hate to admit that my appointment yesterday left me feeling pretty…light? Does that make sense?”

He hums, “Yeah, it makes sense. Therapy does that. You love and hate the feeling, right?” 

You groan, “I really do! Because why is talking about my deepest, darkest worries and feelings so bad…yet so good?!”

He laughs, your favourite kind of smile adorning his face, “That’s the magic of therapy.”

Pouting, you take a piece of tangerine he hands you, “I guess…”

He turns back to stir the pot, grabbing bowls and cutlery as he plates the side dishes and food, with your help you place the entire spread on the small living room table as you settle in for breakfast. 

“Thank you for cooking.” You glance lovingly at him.

You both dig into your food and you moan at how tasty it is, not realizing how hungry you have been since the night before. He chuckles, his mouth full, every time you moan. 

“You gotta stop making that sound…” 

Your eyebrows quirk, feeling playful, “Why? Reminds you of last night…”

He coughs, choking on his food as you giggle, “...stop.” 

You laugh as you take a sip of your water, “I’m glad I was a bit dumb last night…” you confess. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I was gonna go grab food and come find you, but…I was tired so I decided I’d go nap at yours when I showed up. I thought I’d have plenty of time to get up and come back to meet you…” you let the sentence die, blinking softly, “Wait.”

“Mhm?” 

You put your chopsticks down, “Why were you home when I got here? You should have been at the library…”

He doesn’t look as caught off guard as you expect him to be. He simply stands, urging you to follow him as you follow after him. He stops halfway to his room and grabs your hand, tugging you with him as he lets go.

Standing there, you watch as he rifles through something in his drawer. He stops moving altogether for a moment before turning to face you. 

“So, I was looking for a hoodie the other day,” he pauses, playfully glaring at you, “but I should have known you’d stolen it,” you grin, “so, when I was looking for it I found a hoodie I hadn’t worn in a while…so I decided to take it and in the pocket I found…” he opens his hand, palm up, to reveal a crumpled piece of familiar blue paper. 

“A blue post-it?” He hums. “Babe, I’m sorry to tell you but it isn’t new, that’s like our thing…”

He’s grinning, a twinkle in his eyes, “It is…” you frown as he clicks his tongue, “except, it is pretty unique compared to the other ones…”

You’re curious now, “Why?”

“Because it’s the only one you haven’t read…” 

You gasp, blinking rapidly, “Baby?”

“Mhm?”

“Is this what I think it is?” He grins as he nods. “Can I?” 

“I wouldn’t be giving it to you if I wasn’t sure,” you reach for it but he pulls his hand back, “because I was planning on showing that to you last night but I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t find it…”

Your eyes are glued to the paper as you nod, “Mhm, that’s very sweet. Can I please…?” 

Snorting, he sighs, “I’m trying to be sweet…”

“You always are, you just underestimate how much you are. Gimme. Please.” You hold out your hands.

He squints as he stares at you, mouth open as he utters the smallest scoff, “Impatient and sweet, all at once. You are magical I swear…” 

You smile, “I love you very much, can I?” You point at it. 

“I just need you to know before you read this that I wrote this when I felt really confident about it…but then I saw you, and thought…no way you’d say yes so…” he sighs as he hands you the crumpled paper. 

You delicately uncrumple the paper, glancing at him one more time as you finally get to read the words he’d written on what could have been the second post-it, the one that never was until now. 

It’s not a tangerine, but…maybe instead we can grab some food and talk more? 

Maybe, make it a date?

A smile immediately spreads to your lips when you realize how quickly he wanted to ask you out, sniffling as you bite your lower lip. You stare at it for a while, reading the words over and over. 

You laugh, emotions bubbling up in your chest, “You really did like me for that long?” 

He nods, “Yeah, I liked you before we even met.”

“When…how?”

He chuckles, walking closer to you, “We actually briefly met once before that day in the library.” You look astonished to hear that. “I don’t think you’d remember, I had a different hair colour then but you helped this girl in my class when she dropped all of her stuff, and I had seen you before, around…” he blushes, “I thought you were pretty. Always did. But you reassured her when she felt silly for being clumsy and you were…you are still radiant…and I was looking for a reason to be helped…”

You gasp as you realize, “The library, that night…”

He nods, “Yeah…”

“You planned it all? Ahead of time?” 

“Yep.” He’s shy as he stands there. “I’d already read the book for class. I actually had a copy in my bag at the time…” 

You’re stunned into silence as you stare at it for far longer than you should.

“You were gonna ask me on a date?”

He’s nodding, “Yeah, I was…”

“Why didn’t…you?” 

He hisses, like the answer that pops into his mind hurts, “Because I saw you and I convinced myself there was no way you’d say yes…”

You snort, “But I did say yes.”

“Well, evidently.” You thwack his chest, Yoongi grabs your hand when it comes into contact with him. 

You stare up at him, “I would have said yes, y’know?”

He scoffs, “I know that now! But then? I never could have imagined you wanting to go on a date with me.” 

You grab his face in your hands, “Well, I’d go on dates with you again and again. Let’s make sure our life together is a lifelong date…”

He frowns, scrunching his nose as he laughs, “Lifelong date…Sounds like a plan.”

PRESENT

The memory is vivid in your brain, one you cherished and would cherish for the rest of your life. Just like these post-its. 

You secure the lid back on as you carefully pack it into the box, continuing and finally finishing your packing. And as you stand in the middle of it, it actually feels empty for the first time. Nostalgia hits you in different ways as you take in the emptiness. Many of your firsts and best memories have happened in this room, and this apartment too. 

You grab your phone, taking a photo of your empty room before sending it to Yoongi.

You [12:02 PM]: [image]

You [12:02 PM]: Finally done! 😮‍💨I’ll just wait for you to get here to make food. 

You know he’s going to answer quickly and just like expected, he begins answering. 

Yoongi 🧡🍊[12:04 PM]: I’ll be right over, I’m buying fried chicken for lunch. I’ll get you the usual. ♥️

You grin as you stare at his text because really.

How did you get so lucky?

Laughter rings loudly in the restaurant.

The energy is electric. Everyone is laughing with full bellies and plenty of alcohol flowing. Your heart is full, happy and relaxed as you scan the full table. 

It is filled with almost every person you love most on this planet. 

You sit snug into Yoongi’s side, still taking bites of the pork belly left on the grill in front of you. With his arm around your shoulders you safely secure yourself the best spot in your opinion. It is the weirdest feeling on the planet to think of how quickly things have changed between your group. 

Hard to believe there wasn’t even a group like this years ago.

Namjoon stands as he clinks his glass, making everyone groan at how sentimental he’s been recently but he knows how appreciated he is for it. 

He clears his throat, “I want to start off by thanking everyone for pulling everything together so fast for our…really sudden wedding. Without you we have no idea how we could have pulled this off,” he feels his wife grab his hand as he locks eyes with her sweetly, “and for that we’re so grateful to have friends such as you.” He raises his glass and everyone cheers, taking a sip. 

“And we’re also celebrating a lot of changes, are we not?” Everyone glances around the table. “Did we all have to grow up so fast? Like, damn.” 

You shake your head, quietly chuckling as you look at your hands in your lap. You feel Yoongi press a soft kiss to your temple as you look at him, meeting in a quick kiss. 

“But I also want to congratulate my best friend,” both Yoongi and you snap your heads towards Namjoon, “because I can finally say it. I’m proud of you. You’re starting your second year for your doctorate, you’re moving tomorrow–”

Eunhye speaks up quickly, “We’re still so sorry we can’t be there by the way!”

Everyone laughs, with Yoongi trying to hide the blush that’s creeping up his cheeks, as Namjoon continues, “And my favourite part of this entire thing for you?” Yoongi frowns, tongue in cheek as he squints at his friend’s growing grin. “You finally got the girl.”

Everyone cheers loudly, the both of you grow flush as you smile but you’re startled when Namjoon calls your name, “You have no idea how happy I am for you two. And I’m really happy because even though Yoongi and I aren’t actually brothers? I’m glad I get to have you as my sister-in-law some day…”

You start feeling tears brimming, touched by how loved you feel. You feel Yoongi squeezing you tighter against him as you nod to Namjoon. 

“I’m also gonna stop being emotional now so we can get back to drinking and eating, but I also want to recognize that so many of us are going through changes. Hoseok, Hwayoung?” They smile. “Congrats on moving in together soon too. Jungkook, Eunji? Make sure Jimin and Taehyung don’t turn the place into a party house…” he teases, earning himself some protests.

He turns to you guys one more time, “Have a good move in day tomorrow! We can’t wait until we get back to be able to have dinner together at your new place! Treat us well, huh?”

You all laugh and with one final cheer you all return to your eating and drinking. You feel Yoongi’s hand squeezing your thigh as you smile at him so bright. 

“Mhm?”

“I love you.” 

Your breath catches in your throat as it does every time he says those words, “Really?”

“Of course.” He smiles faintly. 

“I love you, too…” you whisper as he kisses your forehead.

You grab some meat and bring it to his lips as he takes it from you, gratefully nodding in thanks to you as he chews while looking at your friends. You note how he gives Namjoon a quick nod, his best friend returning with a sly smile tugging at his lips. 

“Does it feel weird to be leaving your apartment by the way?” Sohee asks you. “You’ve been there for a while, no?” 

“Yeah, it kinda does. I thought I’d be more nervous about moving in with someone new and without Hwayoung and Eunji, but we’ve basically been sleeping over every night for the last three years, just at his or mine…Now, it’ll just be ours.” You turn your head to proudly look at him as he nods. 

Yoongi chuckles, “I won’t lie, I’m worried some days I’ll be too tired that I might go back to my old place out of habit…” 

Everyone laughs, “If you ever get a text from me late at night it’s probably because I’ll be looking for him…” Yoongi knows you’re teasing but he squeezes your thigh tighter and higher as you gasp softly, hoping no one notices. 

“Don’t worry,” he kisses your cheek, lips close to your ears, “with you in our home, I don’t think I could ever forget where home is…”

You make a face, “When did you become so cheesy?” 

“Hey!” He looks offended as you break out into a smile, Yoongi fighting not to but his lips curl in the slightest. “You’re not nice to me.” 

“What do you mean? I’m plenty nice…” you lean into him, resting your chin on his shoulder. 

He grabs your face and everyone awes at you two as you share a kiss.

A few hours pass, getting late now when you all begin leaving. You’re standing outside when Yoongi says goodbye to Taehyung and Jimin, and you are waiting by the car.

“Hey.” Namjoon’s deep voice startles you, bringing you into a warm hug as he pulls back. “I’m really glad I got to see you before we’re off.”

“I am happy that we made all of this work. You and Eunhye have to come over when you’re back from your honeymoon and once we’re settled in.” You insist with a small tug at his sleeve. 

“We will.” Namjoon clears his throat. “When are you starting the new job?”

“Two days after the move.” You sigh, nerves visible on your features. “I’m so fucking stressed out.”

“Why?” 

“Because I started last year at a school and now I’m already moving on to a hagwon*, I feel like I’m missing out on the experience…” You look pained as he squeezes your shoulder. 

“Hey, stop that. You were recruited for a reason, no?” 

You pout, “Yes, but honestly there’s just something really intense about being recruited. Like…the expectations are higher.” 

He smiles, “And you’ll ace them. Give yourself time to adjust and you’ll rock it. You did great in your first year of teaching, you’ll do great there too.” 

You suddenly feel arms wrap around your waist, gasping at the intimacy of the touch as Yoongi hugs you. You’re so startled that you forget how to speak, mouthing the air as Namjoon laughs.

“Wow, bro. You guys have been together for how long and you still make her lose her ability to talk?” 

You yelp, reaching and smacking Namjoon as he laughs, “Don’t make fun of me!” 

“It’s sweet that you guys are just still so in love.” Namjoon looks proudly at you two. 

You’re pouting as you lean against Yoongi’s body, slouching into it, “I don’t know now, I think it might be getting old now that we’re about to move in…” 

They know you’re joking, because you wouldn’t be pouting like this if you were serious. 

“Liar…” Yoongi whispers in your ear. 

You shiver and elbow him, “Stop.” 

“But as I was saying,” Namjoon starts, he looks at you, “you are gonna do amazing at the academy. I’m super excited for what comes next for you, and for you guys…”

He walks into the both of you, squishing you between him and Yoongi as you whine, smacking Namjoon’s back until he pulls back. You say goodbye to his wife and wish them a good trip as you watch them walking away. 

You feel Yoongi nuzzling your neck, “You okay driving us home?” 

“Mhm,” you nod, “I had nothing to drink tonight.”

He hands you the keys to his car as you smile, “Let’s go home…”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! Of course. God, you guys are gonna be so busy. The least I can do is buy coffee and breakfast.” Sohee insists as she pays. 

You’re headed to Yoongi’s apartment since the movers are going there first and to yours later. It’s just a little past 10 a.m. now, and you’ve just returned from picking up the keys to your new place with Yoongi. Sohee had offered to buy everyone food and coffee, and you went with her for company but to thank her for her generosity. 

“You’re so sweet. We really appreciate it. And I mean it, without you we wouldn’t be here.” 

She smiles, nudging you playfully, “It’s a big day for you. I remember when Seokjin and I moved in together we were stressed out of our minds. You’re so calm, you’ll be fine…”

“Oh, I’m freaking out inside and I will probably stress way later…” You laugh, rubbing the back of your neck nervously. 

“You scared of living with Yoongi or is it just how big a change it is?” She asks, grabbing the coffees as you take the bag of food from her. 

Shrugging, you open the door for her, “I honestly never saw this for myself…not this early in my life…” 

“Moving in with a boyfriend?”

You hum, “Or even having a boyfriend for long enough to be able to move in with…” 

It’s mildly embarrassing to admit that you never thought you’d be likeable enough to meet someone who could fall for you like Yoongi has. 

“But here you are.” She smiles as she nudges you playfully. “I’d say, you two are the next ones engaged and married…”

You stutter as you smile, “Not yet but some day, I’m sure…” 

She bites her lip, “Have you thought about it? Marriage…”

You can’t hide the smile that spreads, “We’ve talked about it…”

She giggles, “And?” 

“It’s happening someday for sure, but life right now? Too busy.” You smile, glancing at her as she hugs you. “We’re not engaged yet!” 

“I know! I know! But with our wedding, Namjoon and Eunhye’s wedding having just passed…I’m in a very wedding mood and knowing my friends are most likely next makes me really happy…” You love her excitement for life but also her support. 

“I love your love of weddings…” She giggles as you walk back to Yoongi’s place. 

Entering the apartment, it feels odd to see it as empty as your room feels. In the living room Yoongi, Seokjin, Jimin and Taehyung are all stacking boxes and furniture closer to the entrance to make it easier when the movers come. 

You hand out breakfast to your friends, walking to Yoongi last as you rub his back and he turns to you with a soft smile, “Here.”

He takes it from you, “Thanks, baby…” he stands at full height, grabbing the back of your head and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You lean into him and he wraps his arm around you, tugging you closer. “You okay?” 

Nodding up at him, “I am. Just happy.” 

You share a look, the same thought passing through your heads at that moment. We're really doing this. You feel how his hand squeezes your waist rhythmically, swallowing thickly as he looks at you. You’re both nervous about what comes next but the fact that this signals the beginning of the rest of your lives appeases that nervous energy you’re feeling. 

You’re beaming when you stare up at him, “Just really happy…” 

When the movers are done at Yoongi’s, they head to your apartment to grab your things before finally taking everything to the new place. You stay behind to clean what remains of your room and to help Jimin move in while Yoongi, Seokjin, Hoseok and Hwayoung all go to your new home to help unpack. 

Jimin had protested, insisting you go enjoy the process but you didn’t want to leave him alone to move everything in. 

“I’ll help him. It’ll be over quick and I can come back after. I don’t want him to do it alone…”

Pouting had convinced your boyfriend to let you go, feeling his hesitance in not having you there to move things in. 

“You’re too nice. Don’t stay too long, you need to enjoy this process, okay?”

You finish mopping the room and cleaning the floorboards as you wipe your forehead, looking proudly at your work as you call out for Jimin who slides into his room with a gleeful smile. 

“Welcome to your room! It is clean and ready! I flipped the mattress over, it was steamed wash yesterday so maybe make sure it’s not damp…the furniture you wanted is all here. It’s clean and empty. You just gotta move your things in now.” 

He walks into you for a hug as you wrap your arms tightly around his tiny waist, “Thank you! You should be in your new home with that boyfriend of yours but instead you're here helping me, and Taehyung.” 

Shaking your head, “Hey, you guys have been so helpful with helping us plan this move. I’m glad I get to be of help and there’s nothing better than helping your friends…” 

He smiles as he pulls back, “But now, listen to me…” he cups your cheeks as he pulls back, “go home and get settled in. And enjoy that boyfriend of yours. I’m really happy for you guys…” 

Your cheeks feel warm, nodding as you hold onto his arms, “When we’re settled in and I’ve gotten settled at work? You all come over for dinner. It’ll be our treat for you guys…”

“Yes, ma’am!” He gives you the most playful of salutes and a wink. “Now, go. Today?” he stops as he stares at you. “Is the start of the rest of your life.” 

You mouth the air, “Wow.”

Jimin frowns as you huff a laugh, “What?”

Shaking your head, you bite your lower lip, “I was just thinking that earlier today. The start of the rest of my life…”

He playfully nudges you, “Go. Go start it.” 

You laugh as you wrap your arms around him one final time, squeezing him until he starts tickling your sides. Both pulling apart, you grab your purse as you head out into the living room where Taehyung, Jungkook and Eunji are assembling a new bed frame for Taehyung. After many hugs and good wishes you finally start walking to your new home. 

It’s a solid thirty minutes away but you need this walk to just come down from the intensity of the day. And for that, nothing better than to speak to your mom. Dialing the number and putting the phone to your ear. You smile so broadly when you hear your mom’s voice. 

“Mom!”

“Oh, my baby girl. You’ve been so busy today! Are you home now? Have you eaten?”

You can’t help the childish giggle that leaves your mouth, “Mooom!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You must be so tired…”

“I’ll be tired when I get home. There are still some things to do…” You rub the soreness in your neck. 

“How did it go?” 

You smile, “Really well. The movers were all on time for everyone. I don’t know how we managed to coordinate everything so perfectly but…” you sigh. 

“That sounds intense. Is everyone settled in now?” You hum.

“Yes! I’m just leaving my old place. I felt bad just leaving and not helping Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook get their things in…so I stayed to help. I’m headed home now…I’m sure Yoongi and I are gonna be up late trying to do as much as possible…” 

“Remember to eat, mhm? And try to rest too, I know you start your new job soon but try to rest too…” 

“I will. We want to try to get…kinda settled enough tonight so that we can relax the day before I start at the academy…” you wince, your nerves about your job making your stomach feel uneasy. “Ugh. I’m so nervous, mom…” 

“About the academy?”

“Mhm.” 

You hear her click her tongue, “Honey, you were recruited for a reason. There’s always an adjustment period. You’ll adapt and be an amazing teacher there!”

“You’re my mom. You’re supposed to say these things…” You pout. 

“Aish. If I wasn’t in Busan, I’d be next to you smacking you for saying that. You know I love you but if you do something silly or you can improve? I will be honest and tell you. In this case? Nothing. You’re going to learn so much…Give yourself a chance.” 

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“I love you…” 

You hear her intake of breath, smiling softly as you wait for the inevitable, “Yah…don’t make your mom cry. Silly child.” 

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth, “I just said I love you, that’s all!”

“I love you, too…God,” she sniffles, “I’m so proud of you. Look at you, moving into your own home with your boyfriend. You have a good job. Your life is moving just the way any parent wishes for their child…” 

“Oh god, don’t even continue this–”

“Next you just have to get married–”

“Mom!”

It’s her turn to burst out laughing, “I’m your mom I have to tease you a little! After all, it is going to happen…You two are just waiting, right?” 

She snickers when she hears you groaning, “Moooom!”

She knows you’re not annoyed by it because you’re laughing, trying to sound irritated but it doesn’t come across that way. 

“Okay, okay! I am gonna stop. You have to let your mom tease you.” 

“Mom, I swear…the moment Yoongi puts a ring on my finger? You’ll be the first to know.” You remind her of the promise you make every time she teases you this way. “Is dad with you?”

“No, he’s actually off to help fix Mr. Yang’s boat. He was having issues…” 

“Well, tell him I am gonna call later tonight. I wanna talk to him.” 

She hums, “Oh, call him in the morning, honey…After you’re rested a little. You said earlier you’d be unpacking and settling in tonight. He’ll want to talk to you for a while I’m sure…”

“Dad? Have you not met your husband? He hates talking on the phone for longer than fifteen minutes…” You glance around your new neighborhood, taking in the stores and restaurants that will become part of your new routine. 

“He’s going to want to speak with you for longer I’m sure. You have so many exciting things happening and you haven’t spoken to him on the phone in a bit. He’ll want to hear all about it…” There’s a playful lilt to her voice. 

You concede, “Fine. I’ll call in the morning while we’re having breakfast.” 

“Make it a video call, all four of us.” You shake your head. “I want to see you and Yoongi in your new place. Video tour!”

You laugh, “Yes, mom! I will make sure of that.”

“Good. Your dad and I will be waiting on that phone call.” 

You look up at your new home, seeing the lights on as you stare and smile contentedly, “Okay, that sounds good. Mom? I’m just getting home so I will hang up now, but I promise I will call in the morning to give you a tour of the place.” 

“Mhm~. That sounds great. You make sure to eat, okay? And rest too! Don’t stay up all night unpacking.”

You grin, “Yes, mom! I promise you I won’t.”

“Okay, honey, have a good evening. Say hi to Yoongi.” 

“I will. I love you, say hi to dad, please!”

You fight over who gets to hang up first until she does, making you laugh as you walk up the stairs leading to your home. 

Home. 

Even as you stand at the gate, this doesn’t feel real. And maybe it won’t for a while. When Yoongi and you had gone in search of a new place to stay you hadn’t intended to get a home. 

Right as you had been about to sign a lease for an apartment in some high rise building, your realtor, and friend, Sohee, had one more showing that she had to convince you to come visit. You had both been set on that one apartment and you were ready to just go for it. But you could thank Sohee for the rest of your life for insisting on showing you one final place. 

When she drove you to a nice quiet neighborhood filled with homes, you had been unsure at the time. But as it turns out, her grandparents were moving in with her sister seeing as maintaining their home was too difficult for them. And Seokjin had initially wanted them to rent and eventually buy the home, but Sohee enjoyed the place they already had. She tells you she knew if there was anyone that deserved a shot at it, it was you two. 

On the outskirts of a Hanok** village, mixed in with more modern infrastructure was a beautiful, quaint Hanok house that had housed generations of growing families, including Sohee’s. 

Even before stepping inside you had spoken against a home yet because of the costs but she had tamed your concerns very easily by insisting you take a tour.

“Just…look at it. Get a feel for it. And then we can talk, okay?”

You smile at the memory because of how right she was to insist. The home was beautifully renovated recently enough to accommodate her grandparents better years prior. A beautiful two bedroom home with a small private yard in a nice neighborhood. It felt too good to be true and you remember looking over to Yoongi in shock, because your heart was now set on this. 

“There’s no way we can afford this…”

He looked heartbroken too. You both had fallen in love with the home and walked back out to Sohee with solemn looks. But she had to surprise you. 

“I spoke to my grandparents and they’ve agreed to this…they’ve willingly signed the paperwork already as long as you two say yes.” 

You would rent to buy the home until you were able to pay it off, like a mortgage, or until you could pay the amount in full. Whichever worked best for you. Their only condition for agreeing to leave their home was that it had to remain in the family. And Sohee, the kind human she is, explained to her grandparents that Yoongi and you were family. 

And according to her, no more explanation was needed. 

You gently touch the wooden framework as you push the gate open, smiling as you shut it. Walking up to the door you key in, calling out for Yoongi as you remove your shoes. 

You smile softly as you take in your new home. Even at twenty-six, something such as a home makes you feel like such an adult. Like you’re actually doing this whole adulting thing right. 

“Yoongi!”

You call out again but hear nothing. Maybe he’s showering?

You place your purse on the ground, walking down the length of the short hallway into the living room and kitchen. It is not as messy as you expected. The boxes are neatly stacked in the corners, each divided per room. You glance around with still no sign of your boyfriend as you take your phone to see if he’s messaged. 

Of course. 

Yoongi 🧡🍊[7:14 PM]: Went to grab us some food! We need energy to take on unpacking 😮‍💨

You stretch, shuffling towards the fridge to see if there’s anything in it but you look to the kitchen island. You snort right away when you see because of course Min Yoongi would pull this off one more time. 

Laughing to yourself, you reach over to grab the tangerine that sits on a blue post-it. You grab the piece of paper and grin.

Welcome home, my love <3

Biting your lower lip, you hold the post-it in your hand over your heart as you revel in feeling loved by Yoongi. You’re still holding onto it when you resume your walk to the fridge, opening the door to find it fairly empty apart from some water and some cut up fruits. Pouting at the disappointing find, you shut it and walk to your couch when your phone buzzes on the counter where you left it. 

You check it and frown at the message. 

Yoongi 🧡🍊[7:18 PM]: Left you a surprise in the bedroom, go take a peak ♥️

You glance to the closed door leading to the master bedroom then back to the text, chuckling as you do what he says. You drag your feet tiredly to your room, twisting the knob and swinging the door open as you’re met with a sight different from what you expected.

The bedroom looks almost fully put together, a few things aside but what strikes you the most are the fairy lights hanging on the largest wall opposite of where you’re standing. What’s even more striking is what’s stuck to the wall. 

Blue post-its. 

All neatly placed in a grid like formation, five rows of four post-its each with something written on them. As you quietly walk closer, you look at the first one and recognize it right away.

Night shifts are tough…tangerines are good for energy, and for a snack.

MYG

You flick your gaze to the second one and feel your chest tighten. 

It’s not a tangerine, but…maybe instead we can grab some food and talk more? 

Maybe, make it a date?

You don’t know when you feel a tear crawl down your cheek, but you sniffle as you smile. You read each one and you notice then, the final post-it on the fourth row is unlike the others. 

Place the post-it you just got here, please. 

You laugh, removing the placeholder and placing the last one. 

Welcome home, my love <3

Your fingers gently stroke that one for a moment, looking around your room as you smile. Your eyes drift down to the final row of four post-its and you gasp, hand flying to your mouth as you stop a sob from escaping. Your heart beats out of your chest, heaving heavily as you reread them over and over. 

Each carries one word, spelling out what you least expected. 

Will you marry me?

You stare for so long, all your senses are jumbled by the flurry of emotions your feeling, and because of that you don’t even hear the noise behind you until you look down to your phone to text Yoongi.

“Would you?”

You jump, startled out of your mind with your hand still against your chest as you turn around. Yoongi stands in the doorway, leaning casually against it with the gentlest and most loving smile on his face. 

“Marry me?” 

He licks his lips nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down multiple times as he looks at you. You notice his hand behind his back as you open your mouth to speak but you’re still too stunned.

He steps forward, stopping in front of you as he glances down at you and you meet his gaze. He makes you jump again when he drops to one knee and suddenly it all feels more real, emotions bubbling up into happy tears as you cover your mouth. 

“I know already what that gorgeous brain of yours is thinking,” he grins, looking up at you and grabbing your hand, “I know we agreed to wait to get married and I still stand by that, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be engaged while we do that. And I want to be…engaged to you. To call you my fiancée.” 

He breathes out deeply, his nerves showing now that he’s right there on one knee before you, “So, I am gonna ask you again,” he smiles, chewing on his lower lip before he asks again, “will you marry me?”

You’re full on crying now, squeezing his hand as you sniffle when you laugh as you nod, “Of course. Yes! Yes, I will marry you…” 

He exhales loudly, laughing when he finally hears the answer he has been dying to hear out of you. Relief washes over the both of you as you fall to your knees too. 

“Shit! Are you okay?” He’s laughing, reaching for what you assume is the ring when he pulls a small bag out of his pocket. 

“I’m fine, I’m more than fine…” you’re laughing, hands shaking as he takes the ring out of the small velvet bag. Your breath catches in your throat when you see the gorgeous yellow gold engagement ring with beautiful diamonds adorning it. It is exactly everything you could have hoped for in an engagement ring. 

He takes your left hand in his and slips the ring on your ring finger as you fling yourself into his arms, making the both of you fall as you cover his body with yours. Your lips are sealed to his, kissing him over and over as you laugh between each peck. He sits up as you remain seated on his lap, looking down to the ring on your hand. 

“How…what…why…when?” 

He laughs, gathering your face in his hands as he pulls your mouth to his in a heated kiss, nibbling at your lower lip as you moan. 

“Babe…Yoongi…” you tap his shoulder as he reluctantly pulls back. 

“Yeah?” 

“Was this sudden or planned?” 

He grins, watching you from under hooded eyes, “Planned. For a while. I knew I wanted to but…this felt like the moment.” 

“You proposed…”

He laughs, “And you said yes.”

“My mom is gonna freak out…” you remark as you go back to staring at the ring. 

“She did talk to you, right?” 

“Yeah…how’d you know?”

He looks proud, “I told her. I told her I was proposing today.” 

Your jaw goes slack, “So…so, you mean, when I spoke to my mom on the way home…she knew you were gonna propose to me?” 

“Mhm.” he nods. 

“When did you tell her?!” 

“About three months ago. Remember I said I needed to go out of town for the day for some research paper?” 

Your eyes widen when you remember that moment clearly, “Yeaaaah…?”

“Sorry, babe, that was a little lie. I took the train to Busan and I uh,” he starts blushing, rubbing the back of his neck, “I went and asked your parents for permission to marry you…”

You can’t help when your heart swells at his words, because how could you not feel that way when he tells you this?

“I can’t believe she knew the entire time and she still found it in her to tease me about us getting married.” Yoongi must find the look on your face funny because he snorts, cupping your cheek as he pulls your mouth to his. 

“I love you…”

You whimper against his lips when he kisses you again, “Fuck, I didn’t think I could love you any more than this…”

He smiles as he kisses you, his lips so soft against yours as you pull away. You gently cup his cheek and look at him as he lies under you, his eyes filled with adoration and astonishment at being engaged to you now. 

You collapse next to him, falling on your back as you look back to the wall where his proposal remains.

“Where did you find these?” You point. 

“That wasn’t part of my original plan for the proposal. But I was just going through some boxes to get an idea of what went where…and I found the box where you kept all of those.” He points to the wall. “Then I made up my mind about how to propose…”

You smile sweetly as you stare back at the question on the wall, leaning into his side as you push yourself up to kiss his cheek, “There’s something missing…”

He frowns, “Huh?” 

“Wait here…”

You shoot up from your spot as you run back out to the kitchen, rifling through boxes and cursing under your breath with every new box you pry open. You’re sure Yoongi is probably having a field day listening to you make a ruckus and swearing, only squealing when you finally find them. 

Post-its. 

You grab a marker from the counter, scribbling on the post-it and rushing back in the bedroom.

Yoongi is standing in front of his thoughtful proposal, looking over his shoulder to you as you sprint back in. You hide one hand behind your back, walking up to him. 

“I think it’s about time I partake in this…”

He’s confused but curious, “And what is this, exactly?”

You hold up the now bright orange post-it you have in hand, but the writing is facing you as you speak, “This. Don’t look yet, please.”

He chuckles as he turns around, pressing his back to yours as he waits until you walk around to face him once more. You snake your hands around his waist and hug him, craning your neck to look up at him. 

You’re now looking at your fiancé in your new home as you begin this new chapter in your life together, and like every new chapter that begins, there needs to be an end. 

“Your proposal will be the last blue post-it we use.” He frowns. “I think it really represented our entire relationship until now and maybe it’s not the last post-it ever, but as we’re entering a new chapter in our lives, let’s use a different colour. Let’s mark these new chapters in our lives with different colours to remind ourselves just how much we’ve changed.”

He starts smiling at you as you continue, “Because all of this can be something we can show our kids someday…” He blushes at that, inhaling deeply. “This makes one heck of a story…”

“So,” he clears his throat, “can I look at this magical last post-it?” 

You giggle, wetting your lips as you nod, “Mhm. You can.”

He doesn’t move yet, no. He waits a moment before he pulls you closer to kiss you, breathing against your mouth, “I love you. So much…”

You nuzzle his nose, biting your lower lip, “I love you too…” he’s about to lean in to capture your lips in another kiss when you playfully push him. “Check the wall, baby…”

He chuckles, stubbornly stealing one more kiss from you. He doesn’t let go of you when he twists both your bodies around to look back at the wall. And as you watch his eyes scan every single post-it, going down memory lane just as you do until he reaches the question he posed earlier to you. 

And next to the last note, there sits the post-it you just put up.

You watch as the grin grows on his lips, nodding gently as he glances down to you quickly then back to the wall at the end of a chapter and the beginning of another one. 

On that orange post-it marking a new beginning sits one single word. 

Your answer. 

Yes.

A/N: Again, I would love to thank everybody for the love this series has gotten. I will continue to be grateful for the continued support! :D I am not done with these two, ever. I still have much to write for them.

*hagwon: refers to a private educational institution, often likened to a cram school or after-school academy (taken directly from google)

**hanok: traditional Korean house, characterized by its wooden framework, typically built with stone and earth (taken directly from google)

engagement ring 💍 photo link here

tag list: @muchwita @kam9404 @ot72025 @lalazilz @janeelizabeth1216 @rinkud @yngisstuff @lolpanda94 @angelicbunnee @wubbz05 @illicitelle @legendarydreamqueen @flyxfall @mintmango-min @moorepls @gojomyoneandonly @yoongiiuu93 @wobblewobble822 @michaela0901 @ariakamil @watchingover-hypegirl @lovesvt17 @misschelliejeon @niieceyy @this-most-assuredly-counts @ronaa33 @yoonminv @meghanacloud @petroogorodnik @existentialzaddy @illnevertrustmyselfagain

Post separator credit to @hyuneskkami

[todayitwillrainblood]

★ pocket-sized cloud,

a/n: a thanks to @yeon103 ! i was stuck on a name for this, and you really saved me T-T (also, that last line's kind for you :p)

☆ masterlist!

⟲ synopsis;

[ this is from the chibi series! click here to know more! :3 ] oh, no! somehow, your boyfriend has turned into a toddler (chibi :3)! worry not, he still has his personality...kind of?

★ "you met me at the perfect time

you want me, i want you, baby." ☆

— "SIEUN? WHAT HAPPENED to you?!"

[name] was panicking, disgustingly so. he had left his boyfriend alone for just a few minutes to grab milk while sieun shopped near the snack aisle.

imagine his shock when he comes back to see sieun drowning in his clothes, completely teary-eyed and inside their shopping cart.

"oh, sieun-a," he spoke gently, picking up sieun and holding him close.

he wanted to know how this happened, but he also knew that sieun was in no position to tell him, or maybe he didn't even know?

"ah..." [name] looked around with frantic eyes, he wasn't sure where to begin, and was close to hyperventilating. i mean, he's never had a child before!

in his panic, he unfortunately ignored the slight tugs on his sleeve and only looked down when he felt a little bite to the side of his wrist.

"agh!" [name] immediately looked down, scared that something had happened to sieun, well, something other than the fact that he's now seven times his usual size.

but all he was met with was a pouting-and-cheeks-puffy sieun, he was no longer on the verge of crying, just mildly annoyed.

"i'm...cold," he forced out, causing [name] to perk up immediately.

"uh, right!"

with sieun still in his arms, hidden away, [name] dragged the cart to the other side of the store. the clothes there were cheap, but enough for now.

"what about this? hm... hm...no, not this," sometimes, [name] was responsible, very much like the adult he was not old enough to be. but all the time, he was all about fusing and making sure sieun didn't look like he was just dragged through a mud pit, even when he was the size of a toddler...and partially behaving like one.

"ah-ha!" this was it, he looked like the perfect, obedient, most adorable—yeah, you get it.

he was looking like a commercial kid, soft clothes (an honest steal in that run-down store), all he needed was a lollipop in his mouth, preferably a huge one, and fruit jam smeared purposely around his mouth. a charm, really.

[name] folded the clothes sieun was previously wearing, and stuffed them inside a plastic bag he grabbed off the side.

it was pretty awkward during ring-up, trying and failing to explain to the cashier why sieun was dressed in new clothes, with his old ones nowhere in sight. she looked at him very suspiciously, definitely judging him for crimes he didn't commit, so he let out an exaggerated huff and gave up.

at home, sieun could barely sit around. every time [name] sat down after another one of those sessions chasing sieun around the house, he would have to get up and do it again.

it was as if all the energy sieun was not using when he was normal was coming out now. all the energy he suppressed by coping up in a room and slaving away the hours studying was coming out now, by him being a cute menace.

"you have to eat," [name] had sieun held up, his legs far from the ground and frailing weakly.

"no!" he turned his head to the side, pouting, his nose high up and his eyes shut.

how stubborn. seems his poor diet never changed.

"with how much you're running around, you'll collapse if you don't eat." [name] tried to stay stable, yet still gentle with his voice.

sieun looked at him fiercely, his brows furrowed, he looked as if he would start bawling to emotionally manipulate him.

awful of him to think so, but can you blame him? he doesn't know whether to swoon over with how cute he looks, or scold him for how he is behaving.

...

okay, i think we all know that he would never raise his voice at such a cutie and would definitely rather squeal his ears off.

not sure how he ended up like this, but he isn't complaining. a tired sieun clinging to [name]'s back while he cooked, watching him with droopy eyes, with his head resting on [name]'s shoulder.

he let out a mini yawn, rubbing his eyes with his tiny fists, "hungry..."

"i know, i know," [name] soothed him, gently lowering him on the couch and handing him a bottle of banana milk, "it won't be long."

sieun is now a child; so instead of drinking the milk, he used the warm bottle as a plushie and fell asleep in under a minute.

"hm."

well, [name] didn't know what to think, confusion? or adoration? suppose it had to be one. he transferred sieun to the bed, still worried slightly that he went to sleep without eating, and packed away the now-ready food.

he tried removing the bottle from sieun's grasp, but the whines of distress he let out stopped him; he just hoped it wouldn't spill during the night.

all the skepticism and puzzlement he felt throughout the day positively washed away when he saw sieun's content and sleeping form. just watching him be a kid, something [name]'s sure he began to miss out on, was enough for him to be satisfied.

maybe, if he's still this size tomorrow, they should make a trip to the amusement park.

or do it anyway, yeah. sieun deserves a break, you know?

[name]'s pocket-sized cloud.

[bitchyglitterkoala]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

plot! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪: riki was just getting bigger and stronger everyday, making you feel needier, but also less confident about yourself

genre! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪: fluff ; comforting

warnings! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪: insecurity ; self body shaming ; swearing ; suggestive

for all my insecure girls who need some love! english is not my first language! 💕

───୨ৎ──────୨ৎ──────୨ৎ────

It’s like you were going to burst.

You could feel your body sweating, your cheeks reddening and your mouth stuttering every time the man would have the smallest interaction with you.

Sometimes it’s not even something that crazy, like a few hours ago when he asked you if you wanted to share his ice cream, or when he just looked at you, simply because you were in the same room as him. Of course he’d look at you, he’s literally your boyfriend, which makes no reason for you to be so flustered around him.

You can’t really blame yourself either, in fact there is a very specific reason for why everything became so awkward between the two of you.

Riki, just started hitting the gym more regularly with his friends, and let’s just say.. the results are pretty good..

“Pretty good” is in fact, an understatement. The man is buff, and he’s never been so.. big, which makes you switch between different feelings: confusion, admiration and even envy.

Speaking of him, while you were daydreaming about his physics, Riki entered the house, taking his shoes and jacket off with his chrome hearts bag hanging over his shoulder. As you get stopped in your imagination, you jump slightly when you see him. Riki is sweaty, and his dark locs are sticking to his forehead, all while he’s breathing heavily.

“Hi beautiful.” he barely mumbles, making his way to you. He leans down and presses a kiss on the top of your head. The scent of his citrusy cologne mixed with his sweat lingers in the air, enveloping you in his presence, like you’re inside his bubble and you’re not supposed to. “You smell good, Y/N.”

“You smell disgusting.” you lie as you look up at him, feeling your cheeks already burning up. “How long were you working out for?”

“Like two hours or so? We made a challenge with the boys, and I won.”

It’s like you were being deaf. His words were like white noise playing in the back. You couldn’t help but just admire him, how his veins are popping out of his muscles, the frown on his face and his big hands, you could feel your thighs squeezing together and your breath hitching.

Your behavior was not unnoticed by your boyfriend, who cupped your head and pressed his wet forehead against yours. “What is it, baby?” his voice was soft, yet demanding.

“What?” you answer, looking down, already feeling overwhelmed with his intimidating presence, taking over your personal space.

“Talk to me..” he whispered.

He smiled before leaving soft wet kisses on your neck, kisses slowly turning into nibbles he leaves on your skin with breathy whimpers. “I want my baby to talk to me, why you’re ignoring me recently.”

Riki backs his head up slightly to look at your face while sitting his hands on your waist. He gently lifts you up and carries you so you’re holding onto him, like a koala.

“Nothing..” you mumble, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“Y/N, my love, I can tell when you’re upset, what’s wrong.”

God you hated him so much for knowing you so well, it’s like you are an open book, like you can’t hide anything from this man.

“Can we go to the gym together one day?” you let out quietly, giving up on the mysterious act.

The man chuckles like he didn’t expect you to say that. “Sure, tomorrow we can ma.”

Riki leaves a peck on your head once again before patting your back, cradling you like an upset baby.

You didn’t like what was happening. You hated feeling insecure, or like you were not enough because of strangers or random instagram models, but your own boyfriend? The feeling was so odd, mixed with neediness and envy, like you wanted to be up his standards because you knew you were out of his league.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

It was about 9 PM, and the pitch black sky was enlightened by the city lights.

You put on your shoes, tightening them. Looking down at your plush thighs wanted to make cry badly, were you really not enough?

Riki then got out of the men’s changing room to join you.

The place was empty, almost silent, with just some very bad mainstream music playing in the distance. The smell of leather, sweat and cleaning products was lingering in the air and filling up your nostrils.

“So, what you wanna do?” he asked, wrapping his right arm around your waist, while looking at all the machines around.

“I don’t know.. I’ll just do check out what I can do..” You don’t even let him finish, walking off to the stair master.

You needed to lose weight, to be prettier, better, thinner.

Riki was your everything, you couldn’t handle the thought of him being disgusted, ashamed by you.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

With heavy breaths you try harder to bring your chin up to the metal bar, knowing deep inside you can’t do it because of how heavy you are.

Suddenly, you feel yourself being much lighter. No it’s not a miracle, just Riki coming up to ‘save’ you. He holds your thighs and brings you down to the floor.

“Why are you pushing yourself so hard? I thought we’d have a fun gym date.” he frowns, holding your hips tightly so you don’t run away this time.

You look up at him to answer him, God he’s so big. Before you can speak he gets down to your level and opens his mouth to speak first.

“How about you calm down? You can do some stretches, or some walking.”

Seeing the discourage on your face, he immediately changes the subject.

“Or you can sit your pretty ass on my back and have a drink? While I do some push ups yeah?”

Your head nods instantly, not even trying to fight back.

He buys you a strawberry banana smoothie and lets you sit down on his back. Thoughts of you being too heavy to run around in your head once again, but get stopped when the man goes up and down on his arms.

Words couldn’t describe how much you loved him.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Once you two went back to his apartment, you rushed to the bathroom to shower and get rid of the sweat and negative thoughts. As you were coming out of the bathroom, your gaze accidentally targets the balance on the floor, waiting to be used.

“Fuck this..” you whisper. No, you did not have the energy to handle any more negative thoughts, so you make the decision to just go get dressed up and ignore them.

You put on pink shorts and a simple tank top and come right out the door.

Riki is still in his gym sweatpants and tank top. He devours the sandwich you made him hours ago, the one that was waiting in the fridge. Walking up to him, he smirks as he looks at you from your head to your toes.

“Shit..” he curses out. The man stands up, towering over your body once again. You wrap your hands around his neck, trying to reach it by standing on your tippy toes.

“So why have you been so cold?” he asks.

Deciding to give up on the hiding, you answer him. “You’re so hot. You got like 3 times bigger over two months.”

“So I’m basically making you horny?”

You hated the way he’d made things so simple yet so vulgar, but it’s not like you could deny it, so you just nod.

He chuckles steps back slightly, just to flex his biceps. “They big right?” God, how does one be so sexy yet so damn annoying. He gets closer to you and cages your head in his bicep, squeezing your cheeks together.

“Mmh! Dude!” you babble.

He lets go of you and lifts you up to sit you on the table, just like the day before. Right after, he spreads your thighs with absolutely no effort, making you realize how strong he was getting. “I’ve gotta admit you make me horny too.”

“Right. I’m just getting fatter everyday.”

“Y/N don’t even start..” He instantly retorts with a dry tone.

“Jesus Y/N you’re.. fuck..” he sighs before nuzzling his nose into your neck, inhaling your scent. “You’re the most beautiful woman on earth.” Riki pulls your thighs onto his hips so you’re closer to him, making you feel his bulge.

“You needy baby?” the man asks softly. Feeling your body heating up, you nod once again, leaning your face against him.

He leaves one last kiss on your cheek, and brings you to his room.

“Alright, let me take care of you.”

[theshiniestgemstone]

Hi! I’m the anon who asked for the fic with Jesse and the reader on her and Gideon’s wedding day! I loved it! It’s everything I was hoping for!

I had an idea for a kind of part two to that if you’re up for it! What if the reader’s parents show up on the Gemstone compound and are demanding to be let through security but they’re not on the list. I can imagine Jesse going OFF on them when he sees how uncomfortable it’s making the reader. If we know anything about Jesse Gemstone, it’s that he believes in REVENGE!

Thank you again for writing my last request! 💕

-🦈

thank you for that idea btw. if i could kiss you, i would <3. someone kinda beat you to an idea .a, but i will 100% revisit that. here is their request if you want to read, but yours is here: :). they can be read as a continuation, but they don't have to be.

“Thank you for coming over for dinner,” you said, placing the last dry plate into the cupboard.

Amber smiled, patting your hand with a tenderness that always made your chest ache. “Thank you for hosting."

You smiled faintly, tugging your sleeves down as you followed her toward the front porch, the sounds of laughter from Jesse and Gideon echoing through the trees. It was your first time hosting his parents for dinner in your home. You'd come home last week from the honeymoon, complete with golden tans and no tan lines, save for the one beneath your wedding bands.

But just as you stepped outside, the phone rang. You turned around, grabbing the handset from the dock and answered with a soft hello.

“Uh, Mrs. Gemstone? We’ve got two visitors at the front gate. Say they’re family. Refusing to leave.”

You froze. Amber turned toward you, eyes narrowing in concern.

“Names?”

The radio crackled again. “They’re saying they’re your parents. Didn’t catch the names, just a lot of yelling and… threats of legal action?”

Gideon immediately stood up, the shift in his demeanor so quick and sharp it nearly startled you. Gone was the easygoing warmth from moments before. His jaw was tight now, eyes tracking you like he was waiting for the word to act. Protective. Present.

Amber touched his arm but didn’t stop him. She just looked between the two of you, gauging the storm that had clearly arrived.

You’d brought them up before. Once. Maybe twice, and even then, only in fragments, little slips during long talks curled up on the couch, or whispered late at night when the memories crept in.

There were a lot of disagreements growing up. The kind of tension that sat heavy in the air for weeks. A single B+ was treated like a personal failure. Silver and bronze were embarrassments. Honors without High Honors? A sign you weren’t trying hard enough. There was never yelling, never anything you could point to with certainty, but that made it worse. It was all sharp smiles and cutting comments. Love, but only when earned.

And now they were here. Uninvited. Shouting at the gates of your second home like they had the right.

“I didn’t think they’d come here,” you muttered, voice thin. “I didn’t think they’d actually-”

Gideon stepped closer, just enough for you to feel his presence solidly at your side. “They don’t get to decide anything anymore.”

His tone was low, firm in a way you rarely heard. It wasn’t for comfort. It was a promise. One that crackled under his skin like a lit fuse.

“I don’t care if they brought God himself in the passenger seat,” Jesse called from the front porch, his voice carrying as he adjusted his watch and started toward the back door. “They’re gonna learn today. Let them in."

Amber clicked her tongue. “Jesse.”

“I said they’re gonna learn, Amber!” he shot back without missing a step. “They came up to my gate with their little petty attitudes and ‘do you know who I am’ voices and thought we were just gonna let ‘em strut in here and act like she owes them something?”

You winced slightly. But Gideon’s hand found yours.

“You don’t owe them a damn thing,” he said, steady and sure, as if it were gospel.

You followed Jesse through the house and to the front door, every step heavy with the weight of what was about to unfold. The hallway felt narrower than usual, the walls closing in with memories and unspoken tensions. Jesse’s hand was on the doorknob before you could think twice. He pulled it open with the kind of force that made the hinges groan, revealing your parents standing stiff and stiff-necked on the other side, their expressions a mix of disbelief and entitlement.

“Well, well, well,” Jesse said, voice dripping with something between amusement and menace. “Look who decided to show up unannounced. Didn’t think you had the guts to come here, did ya?”

Your parents opened their mouths, but Jesse cut them off with a sharp wave. “Save it. I’m not here for chit-chat. You’re making her uncomfortable, and you’re trespassing. So, you’ve got two choices. Turn around and leave, or we make this real unpleasant.”

You felt Gideon tighten his grip on your hand, grounding you as your parents sputtered. You caught Amber’s calm but watchful eyes just inside the doorway, like a shield ready to step in if things got out of hand.

Your dad finally found his voice, but Jesse wasn’t done. “Look, if you wanted to talk, you’d have called. You wouldn’t come storming in like some damn bull in a china shop. This is her life now, and you’re not welcome to disrupt it.”

You stared your mother in the face. Everyone always said you look like her, that you'd age gracefully carrying her features.

Your mother’s voice cracked just enough to sound sincere, her eyes searching yours like she was trying to find a flicker of the child she once knew. “We just want a second chance. To make things right. We made mistakes. We know that now.”

Jesse’s posture shifted. His jaw unclenched, and for a heartbeat, he looked like he might actually soften. Gideon released your hand, stepping back but staying close enough to steady you if needed.

On the surface, it sounded like a real plea. The kind that might thaw even the coldest walls.

But you weren’t fooled. You caught the glint in your mother’s eye. Sharp, calculating, like a wolf disguised in a lamb’s clothing. The way your father’s gaze dropped, fixating on the polished marble floor and the mahogany dining table behind you, as if already imagining himself seated at it again, reclaiming his place.

You swallowed hard, the knot in your stomach tightening.

Jesse gave your parents a hard look, then turned to you. Gideon's hand found yours again, warm and steady.

"Get the fuck out," you spat. "You couldn't even come to my wedding and now you're standing here at my home? On my front steps ogling my home- the home that I found without you."

Your mother's lips parted in quiet offense. Your father tore his gaze from the crown moulding. He reached for your hand. "We just want to repair. We treated you terribly."

The tears in your eyes began to burn. "You had years to do something. You can't just see the fancy house and the gate and suddenly decide I'm someone worth visiting."

Gideon took a breath behind you, calmer now but still radiating that protective Gemstone heat. “Y’all need to leave. She ain’t alone anymore. And she sure as hell don’t need your half-ass apologies to validate her life.”

Your father finally looked up, but it was too late.

You didn’t blink. Then, turning away and with a wave of your hand, you spoke. “Go back to wherever you came from. See if any of your other kids will talk to you."

They hesitated.

“Now,” Jesse said, stepping forward.

Security didn’t need to be told twice that they were not welcome anymore.