#look i know it's because i watched this scene countless times not even counting seeing the gifs and im sure every ep has

[epiphainie]

if no one's gonna say it, i will. the way tommy's collar and hoodie strings get messed up between shots during the coffee scene annoys the fuck out of me

[girlygguk]

CRAZY | JJK (Part 2)

summary you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook.

pairing ceo!jk x employee!(f)reader

rating 18+ minors dni; smut, fluff, angst

genre coworkers to lovers au, established relationship

word count 13.2k

chapter content [read part one for full character & story warnings pls.] jk & oc first encounter, jungkook lowkey goes a bit yandere in one two of the scenes 😭, jk punches another guy, love at first fuck lets b real, mention of oc's superior abusing their power (not jk), hyungwon appearance 🙄, heejin appearance 🙄, hobi appearance 🎉, bff jiminie appearance 🎉, time skips, jealous mcs, heated argument, jk lies but like... for the greater good? god idk

warnings dom jk, sub oc, pre established traffic light sw system and degradation consent, doggy, dirty talk, protected p in v sex, praise kink, um slight exhibition kink, rough sex, squirting...(on their first fucking encounter yeeeppp help me god)

a/n this is only 75% edited bc i honestly wasn't going to post it for a whilee as i'm working on some other things atm but i felt bad just watching her sit in my drafts all sad n semi finished 😢 alsoo if a bit of the smut dialogue looks a lil familiar... cough salsa.. its bc i was gonna completelyy change up the sexy scene 🥺 and so i used the smut as inspo for the salsa drabble so it didnt go to waste... bye im such a clown. okay thank u, enjoy, and pls lemme know what u think <3 mwah

crazy pt 1 | masterlist | join my taglist | banner credit

801 DAYS AGO

Your twelve-month contract as a temp Administrative Assistant at Jeon Corp was creeping to an end, and it was safe to say that you were fucking pissed.

You had put everything into this place—countless overtime shifts, moved into an overpriced house in the city near the firm so you were never late. You eat, sleep and breathe this fucking company. And what did you get for it? An almost certain rejection, apparently.

You were more than sure they'd offer you a permanent position. Your stats spoke for themselves. They were flawless. You’d single-handedly cleaned up the absolute fucking disaster left behind by the previous administrative assistant who bailed after Jeon Jun-seo’s passing—and that was not light work.

And by "bailed," you meant that they were part of the bloodbath that ensued when Jungkook took over and wiped out almost half the staff for incompetence.

The staff who remained still grumbled about it—loyalists, maybe, or just people too comfortable with the way things used to be. They hated him for it. He was ruthless, sure, but effective. Jeon Corp wasn't just successful; it was dominating. They went from merely hitting targets to blowing right past them. And that shift started with him.

Jungkook was good. Really fucking good.

He was young, driven, passionate, and not to mention—a sight for sore eyes. Even as someone who didn't like to openly praise men, you couldn't help but be impressed.

Still, you knew your fate wasn't in his hands directly. He wasn't going to be the one deciding whether your temp position would become permanent. He was the CEO—too high up to care about such things. And besides, you'd never even spoken to the guy. You spent most of your time on the twelfth floor, and he was always buried in work on the nineteenth.

Except for that one time.

Maybe three months ago? You had shared an elevator with him when you both arrived at work around the same time. For eleven floors, you stood silently beside him. Well, you were silent. He was on the phone, speaking in that low, gravelly tone that had a way of crawling under your skin. Being so close, you could hear the slight slip of a Busan accent when he spoke. He wasn't rude, just... intense.

Even while curses slipped from his lips to whoever was on the other end of the line, you couldn’t help but wonder if that was just his usual tone—whether he was speaking to a business partner, an enemy, a lover. Either way, you didn't think it was negative. It was just him.

You knew bits and pieces about the guy from what Jimin had shared—him being Jungkook’s assistant and all—but nothing too personal. Not that you needed to know. Though, admittedly, he had piqued your interest.

A month prior to that elevator ride, you’d caught a glimpse of something that had you squirming in your seat. From your office, you had glanced over to see him leading a meeting on your floor. His suit jacket had been tossed over the back of his chair, revealing the dirtiest, prettiest fucking sleeve you’d ever laid eyes on. His big, tattooed bicep flexed with each movement as he pointed at the projector screen.

The sight had you groaning, pushing your unfinished lunch aside and retreating to the bathroom.

You’d tried calling your boyfriend, hoping to pull him into some filthy phone sex, but he was too nervous to go through with it. In the end, you hung up frustrated, finishing yourself off in the stall, biting your lip to keep from moaning too loudly.

The elevator ride felt quicker than usual. You kept your eyes fixed on the LED screen, watching the numbers tick up, though you were more focused on the way his cologne filled the space, light but somehow intoxicating. By the time the doors slid open on your floor, his call had ended. You adjusted your bag, turning to him with a polite bow.

"Have a good day, seonsaengnim," you'd said, your voice soft as you smiled.

He didn’t say anything back, just looked at you for a second, his dark eyes sweeping over your face. His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he gave you a subtle nod, and you walked off, feeling his gaze linger as you left.

And that was it.

You didn't see him again. Not in the lobby, not passing by in meetings, not even when your car and his were the last ones left in the parking lot after late shifts. It wasn't unusual; he was literally the CEO, always busy, always somewhere else. He didn't have time to notice you.

But you couldn’t help but think about it more than you’d like to admit.

If you'd known that you'd never cross paths with him again, never ride the same elevator, never exchange more than those few words before your temp contract ended—would you have done something different? Said something more?

Maybe you would've clicked a higher floor.

But here you were. No offer. No permanence. Just three job offers from other firms sitting in your inbox, waiting for your reply. Of course, you had a backup plan—you weren't that naive. But something about it stung anyway. You'd take one of those offers at the end of the week, move on, and maybe one day, you'd forget about Jeon Corp entirely.

Sigh.

You were really going to miss Jiminie, though.

“So... how's your shift going?”

You rolled your eyes, a soft laugh escaping as you twisted the cap off your water bottle, taking a sip before tearing the lid off your salad. Your phone sat on your desk, Hyungwon's voice crackling through the speaker.

"It's going good, Hyungwon," you replied, voice tinged with sarcasm. "Same as every day."

A sad chuckle echoed through the receiver. "Oh, yeah? Well, we just got new printers at the firm, you know, the Lexmark MX8s? What about y—"

The forkful of salad that was halfway to your mouth dropped back into the bowl. "Hyungwon," you interrupted, incredulity dripping from your tone. "Did you really call me to talk about printers?"

"Well, I—no, I just—"

You sighed, reaching for your water again and setting your untouched lunch down. "Hyungwon, I hope you're okay, I really do. And I'm happy for you and your fancy printers," yours were two seasons ahead, "but this isn't helping. You're not going to feel better if—"

"I just miss you, Y/N," his voice cracked, and instantly, your appetite evaporated. You let out another deep sigh, rubbing your temples, as Hyungwon's next words came out shaky. "And I just want to know what I did wrong. We were doing so well. W-what did I do?"

"Hyungwon…" You picked up the phone, taking it off speaker as you leaned back in your chair, eyes focused on the ceiling. "You didn't do anything. You're a great guy, okay?"

"Yeah," he scoffed, his voice bitter and teary. "Girls don't break up with 'great guys' after an amazing year together out of the blue, Y/N."

Was it out of the blue? Had it been amazing?

"We've been over this," you sighed, adjusting the phone in your hand. "A hundred times in the last month. It's not about what you did. We just—"

"Weren't right for each other," he finished, his voice robotic, like he was reciting a script he'd memorized against his will. A sniffle followed as you heard him reach for tissues. "Just… wanted you to know I miss you. And… could I come by next week? Pick up my clothes?"

You took a long drink from your water bottle, feeling a headache forming. "I’ll leave it with reception. You can pick it up from the office—"

"No," he cut in, his voice tight with desperation. "Please, from your place. I just… I need to see you one more time."

You exhaled deeply, eyes unfocused as you stared out your floor-to-ceiling window. It had been a month since you ended things with Park Hyungwon—a month since you stuffed his clothes into a box and offered to drop them off. A month of excuses, a month of him putting it off, dragging out these unbearable phone calls, asking to see you in person, to talk.

You knew why he wanted to make the exchange in person. You weren't stupid. But lately, something about his calls had been giving you a bad feeling—a taste in your mouth that lingered long after you hung up. Hyungwon wasn't dangerous. He wouldn't hurt a fly. But he was... off. These calls always followed a pattern.

First, 1:15pm, right when you started your break, your phone would buzz. You'd glance down, see an incoming call from P.H, and immediately regret ever sharing your lunch schedule with him.

Then, he'd be kind. Sweet. Boring. Asking about your shift, your day, until something—something trivial—would break his composure. He'd start to crack, voice shaking, or worse, he'd burst into tears over something like… printers.

By the end of the call, there was always that weird shift. Not angry, not sad… something in between. A mix of emotions that left you unsettled, and you couldn't quite put your finger on why. You could feel the resentment beneath it all, though—like he definitely blamed you for the breakup, no matter how many times he asked what he could've done to keep you.

That was fine. You were used to people resenting you. You were top of your major, gorgeous, and a bit of a bitch. But hearing that tone in Hyungwon's voice? A human puppy dog you'd spent a year of your life with? It made your skin crawl in a way you couldn't shake.

And now, here he was, asking to see you again. For what? Closure? An emotional showdown? You didn't care. You just knew you had to end this, fast. Another call filled with sniffles and pleas, eating away at what little break time you had? You'd throw yourself out that fucking floor-to-ceiling window before you let that happen again.

"Fine," you sighed, glancing at your watch as you switched the phone to your other ear. "You can come over next week. I'll check my schedule."

"Really?" His voice immediately brightened, and you rolled your eyes. "Shivers! That sounds great! Just text me when—"

You swallowed the bile rising in your throat. Shivers? SHIVERS?

"Break's over, Hyungwon," you interrupted, forcing a smile into your voice. "Talk to you later, okay?"

"Yeah. Thank you, Y/N. I'll call you tomorrow."

The line went dead, and your fist clenched around the phone.

"God," you muttered to yourself, tossing it onto your desk with an exasperated sigh, "I'm changing my fucking break time."

"Should I come back later?"

You yelped at the sudden voice, spinning around in your chair to see your best friend standing in your office doorway, his signature Cheshire grin firmly in place.

"Jiminie!" you beamed, frustration melting away as you rushed over to pull him into a hug. "No, it's okay. It was just—"

"Hyungwon," Jimin finished for you with a knowing, apologetic nod. "You know, you could always just… not answer when he calls?"

You rolled your eyes, brushing a piece of blonde fringe from his face. "And have his suicide on my conscience? No thanks."

"He's a grown man. He can make his own decisions," Jimin shrugged, laughing when you widened your eyes in faux shock.

You shuffled back to your desk, stabbing a cherry tomato from your salad. "Aren't you supposed to be telling me to run back into his arms and admit I was wrong? Some sort of cousin code or something?" you quirked a brow teasingly, humming around the mouthful.

He laughed softly, adjusting the files in his hand. "I'd never tell you to go back to something you were clearly miserable in, Y/N. Even if he is my cousin."

You swallowed another bite, giving him an appreciative smile before finishing the rest of your water bottle. "That is why I love you, Park." You threw the rest of your papers into a folder and linked your arm with his. "And why I'm going to miss you so much." You pouted playfully.

Jimin rolled his eyes, guiding you out of your office. The usual hustle and bustle of level twelve filled the air as he snorted, "Don't say that. You're not going anywhere, Y/N."

"Mm, I beg to differ." You shot back, bitterness lacing your voice. "I haven't heard a word about permanency, and my contract ends in four days." With a dramatic sigh, you added, "Guess you'll just have to visit me at KimCo on your lunch breaks instead."

"First of all," Jimin smirked, "I wouldn't drive across town on my lunch break to visit anyone, even you." You squinted at him as he teased, "And second, yeah, it's shitty that you haven't heard anything about the promotion—"

"And unprofessional," you interjected, rolling your eyes. "And discourteous, and obnoxious, and plain fucking rude—"

He chuckled, cutting you off with a light shrug. "Yes, all of the above," he agreed as you both reached the elevators. Unlinking his arm from yours, he pressed the button to go up. "But… have you accepted the offer at KimCo yet?"

You frowned, glancing at the lit-up arrow pointing up. "No, not yet. I was going to tonight…" You trailed off, turning to him in confusion. "Jiminie, why are we going up? Our meeting's on level seven."

Jimin glanced down at the file in his hand before his mouth opened to respond, but the elevator dinged, catching your attention.

The doors slid open, and you were immediately hit with the faint scent of tobacco and Bvlgari. Your head turned slightly, seeking the source.

Jungkook stood inside, eyes focused on the phone in his hand, dressed in a perfectly pressed designer suit that somehow looked more sinfully casual on him than it had any right to.

You blinked, tearing your gaze away from him and turning back to Jimin, waiting for an explanation.

"Oh yeah, uh, the meeting's been pushed back a bit," Jimin said, nodding to the elevator. "But you're needed upstairs for a moment."

You frowned, glancing down at the heavy folder in your hands as you stepped into the elevator. If the meeting was postponed, you wouldn't have dragged this big fucking thing around with you. You left some space between yourself and the CEO and Jimin happily slid in between, his usual smile bright and easy.

The doors closed, and silence settled over the small space. Jungkook was still looking at his phone. Jimin still hadn't pressed a button.

You frowned. "Jiminie, why haven't you clicked a floor?"

He turned toward you, feigning confusion as his eyes flicked toward the panel. "Oh, because it's already pressed." He shrugged, flashing a quick smile before turning forward again.

You stared harder at the panel. From the corner of your eye, you could see Jungkook's broad frame. His phone was tucked away now, but his gaze remained fixed straight ahead. He hadn't said a word.

"Level nineteen?" you asked, a hint of confusion in your voice.

Jimin nodded, offering you a simple smile.

The elevator crawled its way up slowly with a few more words exchanged between you and Jimin. Then, finally, the elevator dinged open at level nineteen, and the air shifted.

The sleek, pristine hallway stretched out before you, polished floors gleaming so bright that you could almost see your reflection in the tiles. You had only been here once before, for a department meeting with the CCO, Kim Namjoon.

Jimin politely bowed to his boss as you instinctively stepped back, allowing Jungkook to exit first. His gaze never wavered as he nodded in acknowledgment, his movements calm as he stepped out.

As you followed Jimin down the hall, you couldn't help but notice how eerily quiet everything was. The glass-paneled meeting rooms stood empty, the reception desk vacant. The last time you were here, the place had life, but now… nothing.

Jungkook disappeared into his office without a word while you and Jimin continued walking. Your confusion only deepened as you glanced through the glass panes into all the very empty meeting rooms.

Jimin slowed at the entryway to Jungkook's office.

"Jiminie, what's going on?" you asked, gently grabbing his arm. "Am I supposed to have a meeting with Jeon Jungkook-seonsaengnim? Why wasn't I informed? I need to know what's required—"

"Y/N," Jimin interrupted softly, his hand covering yours reassuringly. "I'll explain soon, okay? I know it's last minute, and I'm sorry for that. Let me just make sure everything is on track." He smiled at you before gesturing to the plush seats outside the office. "Take a seat. I won't be long."

You hesitated, but trusting your best friend, you nodded, setting your folder on the table before sitting down. Jimin gave you one last encouraging smile before disappearing inside Jungkook's office, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

Your eyes darted around the hallway as you waited, the clean surroundings feeling almost too sterile, too perfect. The glass walls of Jungkook's office made it impossible not to glance inside. You caught a glimpse of him flipping through a file, his expression focused, detached. Jimin approached him, placing his own file down on the desk as the two exchanged quiet words.

Jimin greeted his boss again with a respectful bow. "Seonsaengnim," he smiled, placing the file in front of Jungkook.

Jungkook didn't look up from the papers he was thumbing through. "Is she waiting for me?"

"Yes, sir," Jimin replied, his hands clasped neatly in front of him. "You have about thirty minutes before the board meeting, so I thought now could be a good time for you to meet with Y/LN Y/N… The temp administrative assistant from level twelve? Her contract ends in—"

"Four days," Jungkook finished, finally closing the file in front of him. He reached for the one Jimin had brought, flipping it open. "Why hasn't her contract been extended? Her performance is strong, and she has streamlined operations in her department. Does she not wish to stay with the company?"

"She does, sir," Jimin nodded. "But I was informed by Namjoon-seonsaengnim's assistant that Lee Dohyun does not plan to extend her contract. He intends to let it end."

Jungkook's brow twitched slightly, his eyes narrowing as he flipped through the papers. "And why does Dohyun plan to do that? She's efficient, profitable. She cleaned up the mess the last administrative assistant left behind." His tone was clipped, irritation poorly masked.

Jimin shifted on his feet, the hint of hesitation visible in his posture. "I'm not entirely sure, sir. It's mostly hearsay, but…" he cleared his throat, glancing at Jungkook before continuing cautiously, "there's a rumor that she rejected one of Dohyun's advances a few months ago. Since then, word has flown around that he's been less than accommodating toward her."

Jungkook's eyes darkened, his fingers stopping their idle flipping as his gaze snapped back to Jimin. "So, he's punishing her for not entertaining him?"

Jimin's silence was enough of an answer.

Jungkook's jaw clenched, the tension in his shoulders building. He flipped the file shut, the subtle thud of the paper echoing in the quiet office.

"Why have you brought her to me, Jimin?" he asked, shooting a sharp look at his assistant. "There's a chain of command. At least six people between Dohyun and me."

"There are," Jimin acknowledged. "But some months ago, you mentioned noticing a significant increase in productivity and efficiency in Administration… You said the improvements could be attributed to the new assistant's work. I just thought considering her contract ends in four days, you'd want to meet her personally before she accepts another offer."

Jungkook leaned back against his desk, glancing at the glass door where you were sitting, your legs crossed, eyes absentmindedly focused on a strand of your hair. His gaze flicked over your tight black pencil skirt, the cream blouse that hugged your figure, the neat ponytail held in place by four bobby pins.

"She's very good," he admitted, eyes dropping back to the folder. "But I don't meddle in the hiring department. Tell Dohyun to reconsider his decision."

Jimin shifted slightly. "He's on leave for the rest of the week, sir."

Jungkook sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Then go to the next in command, Jimin. I'm not—"

"She's accepting an offer from another firm tonight, Jungkook," Jimin said quickly, catching himself. "Jungkook-seonsaengnim," he corrected. "Once she signs the contract with KimCo, there won't be time to make a counteroffer."

Jungkook went quiet; his eyes focused on the closed folder in front of him as Jimin pressed on. "Just five minutes, sir. That's all she needs."

Jungkook's eyes flicked up to meet Jimin's. He rolled his eyes, leaning back on his desk, arms crossing over his chest. "You're supposed to make my life easier, not harder, Park."

Jimin couldn't help but grin, looking over his shoulder to catch you glancing down at your Apple watch. He bit back a snicker when you rolled your eyes, clearly getting impatient.

"She'd be a big loss, seonsaengnim," Jimin said honestly as he turned back to his boss. "I believe I'm making your life easier. You live, eat, and breathe this company."

Jungkook groaned, closing his eyes briefly before nodding. "Send her in. Five minutes."

"Thank you, seonsaengnim." Jimin bowed, turning toward the door.

"Jimin," Jungkook called out, his assistant's hand freezing on the handle.

"Yes, sir?"

"Draft effective immediate termination papers for Lee Dohyun and put them on my desk when you leave for the night."

Jimin bit back a grin. "Yes, sir."

You straightened in your seat as soon as you saw Jimin approaching, eyes narrowing suspiciously. He looked like the cat that caught the canary, and you didn't trust it for a second.

"Y/N, this way, please—"

"No," you snapped, swatting his outstretched hand away. "Brief me."

There was no way you were walking into a meeting with the fucking CEO without any preparation. Was he fucking high?

Jimin chuckled softly, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Relax, Y/N. It'll only take a few minutes. Jungkook's not much of a talker…" He reached out again, and you batted his hand away once more.

He laughed again, then pouted, blinking at you with wide, innocent eyes. "Please, Y/N? Just trust me."

"God, you're a cunt," you muttered under your breath, shooting him a glare as you stood and smoothed your skirt. Reluctantly, you started toward the office.

"Unprofessional…" Jimin teased with a grin, snickering when you turned and mouthed 'get fucked' at him before stepping inside.

The glass doors clicked softly behind you as you entered the impeccably tidy office. "Seonsaengnim," you greeted with a bow. “Y/LN Y/N. It's nice to formally meet you."

Jungkook barely glanced up, his dark eyes sweeping over you for just a moment before he dropped them back down to the file on his desk.

His nod was curt, his voice low and indifferent. "Jeon Jungkook," he said, as if his name wasn't already plastered across every inch of this building.

When he gestured toward the seat in front of his desk, you sat down, crossing your legs as he settled back into his chair. His attention returned to the open file. "Your contract ends in four days."

"Yes, sir," you nodded, hands resting in your lap as you held back any trace of bitterness.

"Do you not wish to stay here?" His voice was steady as his eyes flicked up to meet yours.

You blinked, a little surprised by the question. "No, sir. I do wish to stay. But I haven't heard anything from management regarding a permanent position."

"Who do you report to?" Jungkook asked, though you were sure he already knew the answer.

"Lee Dohyun-seonsaengnim."

He leaned back in his chair, drumming his tattooed fingers lightly against the desk as he skimmed the file. "Your work is impressive."

"Thank you, sir." You smiled softly, ignoring how those four simple words made your stomach flip. "That means a lot coming from you."

His gaze lingered on you for a second longer before he closed the file and set it aside. "Y/LN Y/N," he said, his voice calm, "Why do you think your contract hasn't been extended?"

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by the question. "I'm not entirely sure, seonsaengnim."

Jungkook hummed. "You've been here almost a year. Your work speaks for itself. Yet your contract hasn't been extended." His gaze locked on yours, and for a second, he almost looked genuinely interested. "Why?"

You inhaled slowly, keeping your expression as neutral as possible. "I've heard rumors, sir. But I'm not one hundred percent certain."

An eyebrow arched, and Jungkook tilted his head slightly. "Let's say the rumors are true. Do you think personal reasons should outweigh performance?"

"No, sir," you answered steadily. "But I don't control the decisions."

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and for a moment, his eyes flickered with amusement. Whether he appreciated your honesty or just liked watching you squirm, you weren't sure. "Do you plan on accepting an offer from another company, Y/N?"

You gave a slight nod. "Yes, sir. My first choice is KimCo. They've offered me a permanent coordinator role in their administration department. I plan on sending my letter of acceptance tonight, after my shift."

Jungkook was quiet for a moment, his dark eyes roaming over you lazily, but enough that it was impossible not to notice. "Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" he asked finally, his voice casual as he leaned back in his chair. "Or are you happy to go to KimCo?"

"I would prefer to stay, sir," you said, holding his gaze. "If Jeon Corp is willing to match the salary offer and I'm guaranteed a permanent position."

"What's the offer?"

"₩67m, sir."

Jungkook's expression didn't change. "We can do eighty."

"Wha—"

"I'll have your permanent administrative coordinator contract drafted by tonight and emailed to you. Will that work?"

It took you a second to process his words before you blinked in surprise. "Yes, sir," you replied, fighting to keep the smile tugging at your lips in check. "It would."

Jungkook leaned back further in his chair, his eyes flicking over you once more, lingering in a way that wasn't accidental. Then, with a simple nod, he closed the file in front of him. "Good. I'll expect your response by tomorrow morning."

You still don't really know how it happened.

Maybe it started when you stood to give him a polite bow before leaving his office, and he reached out for a handshake at the exact same moment. His cold hand accidentally brushed against the side of your inner breast through your blouse as you leaned forward, and suddenly, both of you froze.

Jungkook pulled his hand back sharply, his brows furrowing as he stared down at the file on his desk like it was the most interesting thing in the world, muttering a low apology, his usual confident tone suddenly gone.

It was... so cute.

Seeing the man who looked like he could ruin your life with just a snap of his fingers suddenly all shy and flustered as if he was more embarrassed than you were? Fucking adorable.

Maybe it was his instinct to avoid an HR complaint, to maintain professionalism in what could have been misconstrued as an inappropriate touch.

But you weren't going to misconstrue it. It was an accident.

And, honestly... you always were kind of a sucker for bad boys with soft eyes.

"Fucking goodddd!!!" you moaned, your voice barely coherent as your cheek pressed against the cold surface of his desk. Each relentless thrust from Jungkook had your body jiggling under him, your mind lost in a haze as his hips slammed into you without mercy. "S-so fucking b-biiiiig."

Your eyes rolled back, throat raw from the croaky whimpers that escaped between each ragged breath. His hand was firm on the back of your head, keeping you pinned down, helpless as he took you apart, piece by piece.

"I know, baby," he cooed, his voice laced with that condescending pout that only made you clench harder around him. "I know it's big, baby. But you can take it, can't you?"

His fingers tangled in your hair, brushing lightly over your flushed cheek in a teasing, mocking pat. Then, without warning, he pulled back and slammed into you harder, deeper, until you felt him hit that spot. That fucking spottt. Your breath caught in your throat as he didn't stop, didn't let up, just kept going, over and over and over.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, nails scraping into the polished wood of his desk until you felt the lacquer gathering beneath your fingernails. The loud, wet slaps of his hips against your ass echoed through the room, his heavy balls smacking into your swollen clit.

"'Course you can take it. 'Cause you're such a hard worker, hm? Such an overachiever, aren't you, baby." His voice dripped with dark amusement, each taunting word sending shivers down your spine. His hand pressed your head harder into the desk, the weight of him leaving you trembling, drool pooling on the wood beneath you as you gasped and whimpered, completely at his mercy.

"You can take it, Y/N. Know you can," he murmured, every word like a filthy promise, his gaze locked on the way your body was surrendering to him, giving him everything. He wasn’t going to stop until you broke. Until you were his.

"Color, baby." He growled into your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He hummed in delight when he felt you swallow, your gasps feeding into his satisfaction.

"Green," you choked out, barely able to form the words. "Do anything to me. Green, fucking green to it all," you cried, voice raw as tears blurred your vision, and Jungkook groaned, teeth grazing the delicate skin of your throat in approval.

His grip tightened in your hair again, yanking you upright until your back was flush against his chest. "G-g-godddddd," you choked out, body trembling, tears threatening to spill as his thrusts grew quicker, more brutal, each one slamming harder and louder, drowning out everything else.

Your hands shot up, clawing desperately at the back of his neck as you tried to hold on, your body burning from the inside out as he destroyed you. His lips ghosted over the curve of your neck, teeth grazing your skin just as his hand slipped down your stomach, his fingers finding your swollen, slippery clit with ease.

Jungkook's pace became punishing, driving into you harder and faster, your body quivering under his touch. His lips brushed lazily over your neck, whispering filthy praise into your ear as his fingers circled your clit, sending a jolt through your entire body. The wet, sloppy sounds of his hips smacking into your ass filled the room, each thrust sending you closer to the edge.

"F-fuck, Jungkook," you gasped, your voice cracking as his pace quickened even more at the sound of his name on your lips. "It's s-so… fuck…"

He groaned low in your ear, his hand fisting your hair tighter, yanking your head back as his hips crashed into you over and over. "So good, Y/N baby," he cooed, his voice dripping with lust. "You're doing so fucking well. Taking it so good."

The praise made your throat bob, your entire body teetering on the edge of collapse. You couldn't think of anything but him—full, Jungkook, full, Jungkook. It was all-consuming, the only thing that mattered.

You weren't just wet anymore—you were disgustingly soaked, your arousal dripping down your thighs, mixing with the sweat on your skin as he ruined you. You let out a sob as tears streaked down your cheeks, your mascara no doubt smeared beyond repair as your entire body burned with pleasure.

"Careful, baby," he hummed darkly, voice tinged with amusement. "Don't want anyone to hear you, huh. Coming to check if you're okay..."

Your eyes flicked toward the glass doors, your head lolling back into the crook of his neck as you realized the vulnerability of your position. Fucked out, skirt bunched up around your waist, tits spilling over your bra, completely on display and helpless in his arms—holy fuck. The idea of someone seeing you like this had your thighs pathetically trembling as you felt yourself get even wetter. Sicko.

"S-sir," you stammered, the words forced out between his relentless thrusts that threw your body forward. "Cl-close the blinds."

Jungkook's lips curled into a smile against your neck at the lack of conviction in your words. Fucking perfect. His breath was warm as he whispered, "Why would I want to do that?" His hand slid to your chin, his fingers gripping firmly as he forced your eyes to the glass. "Y'look so fucking pretty, Y/N. Who would want to hide all that?"

Humiliation mixed with need, making your core throb even harder. The reflection of your wrecked form stared back at you—trembling, sweaty, makeup running down your tear-streaked face.

Well, he wasn't wrong. You did look kind of pretty.

The thought of how many other women had been in this same position with him briefly slithered through your mind, but you whimpered, pushing it away.

"H-harder, Jungkook… please," you gasped, voice a broken plea. "P-please, baby?"

That was all it took. His low groan vibrated through you, his hands gripping your waist tight as he snapped his hips into you with a force that made the desk rattle beneath your hands. One hand cupped your breast, tugging harshly at your nipple, while the other slipped down to mercilessly slap at your clit over and over.

"Shit, shit, shit, shittttt!" you sobbed, your voice high and broken, pleasure tearing through your body.

"You're close, aren't you?" Jungkook rasped, his voice rough as his thrusts grew erratic, harder, faster. "Getting so fucking tight around me. Gonna come for me, aren't you, baby?"

Your mind was gone. You couldn't focus on anything but the feeling of him inside you, stretching you, filling you, owning you. "J-Jungkook..." you slurred, your head falling back against his chest, "please make me come, baby, pleasepleasepleaseeee."

Jungkook's arms tightened around your trembling body, and in one quick motion, he sat back in his office chair, pulling you down into his lap. You cried out as his hands hooked under the back of your knees, planting his feet on the ground and spreading your legs wide, completely open, and facing the see-through fucking doors.

He didn't give you a second to breathe before he started pounding into you again, his fat cock hitting so deep at the new angle that your body shook uncontrollably. You couldn't even hear your own cries—just the wet, obscene slapping of skin and Jungkook's gorgeous groans in your ear.

"Rub your fucking clit," he commanded, his voice thick with urgency. "Come. Now, Y/N. Fucking come."

Your hand flew to your clit, trembling fingers rubbing furiously, slipping because you were so fucking wet. "Jungkook," you gasped, voice breaking, tears pouring down your cheeks.

"No, baby, f-fuckkk, I'm sor—" You couldn't stop the sobs, your body convulsing as the tension coiled tighter and tighter inside you. "Jungkook, I'm—I'm so sorry, ahhhh fuckkk! I-I'm gonna squirt, oh my goddddd!"

"Fuck, yes," he growled, and just as your body started to seize up, his hand shot down, pressing hard on your lower belly and bladder, right where he was buried deep inside you. His hips didn't relent, pounding into you with the same brutal pace.

The pressure on your abdomen made everything inside you snap. Your scream tore through his office as your walls clamped down hard on him, your body shaking violently as your hand trembled, losing its grip on your clit. You came so hard that your hand slipped away entirely, but before the overwhelming release could fade, Jungkook's hand was there, replacing yours instantly. His fingers rubbed your swollen clit with intense pressure, refusing to let you stop.

"Fuckk, look at that fucking pussy, Y/N," he growled as he slapped your pulsing clit over and over. "Keep going, fuck, keep squirting on my fucking dick, baby, holy shittttt."

The filthy command tipped you over the edge again. The sensation was too much, and you started to gush even harder. Wetness sprayed everywhere, soaking his lap, drenching the desk. You were fucking gone.

"Holy fuck," Jungkook choked out at the sight of your cunt gushing out liquid, his hips jerking erratically as his body tensed beneath you. He came hard into the condom with a deep, broken groan, his grip on you tight as he rode out his release, still rubbing your clit with nasty, unrelenting strokes, making sure you didn't stop.

Your body convulsed violently, your legs shaking uncontrollably as he kept rubbing, drawing out every last wave of your orgasm until you were a trembling, sobbing mess. His big hand cupped over your warm pussy, feeling it throb beneath his palm as he slowed his thrusts, easing you through the last shudders of your release.

"My godddd," he growled, his voice raw with awe as he moved his hand and looked down at the mess you'd made. Your quivering pussy, glistening and red, his slacks drenched, the chair wet, and even some paperwork on the desk soaked through.

Fuck, he groaned internally. He's obsessed.

Your chest heaved as you slumped against him, completely spent, your head falling onto his shoulder. Jungkook’s hands glided up and down your trembling thighs, suppressing the smile tugging at his lips as you buried your face into the crook of his neck, clinging to him like he was the only thing holding you together.

"Well done," he murmured, his lips grazing your forehead before pressing a soft kiss there. You could still feel his heart racing against your skin as you tried to catch your breath.

"Seonsaengnim," you muttered, still panting, "I'm so sorry about your papers—"

"Shut up," Jungkook cut you off with a roll of his eyes, your sudden shift to formalities clearly grating on him. His hands continued their soothing path over your stomach, fingers brushing lightly over the soft skin before he gently adjusted your legs on his lap. His strong thighs kept your feet dangling above the floor, his touch softening as he patted your belly absentmindedly, his voice easing. "It’s alright."

You tried to gather yourself, your mind still spinning. "I haven't done that in a while," you mumbled into his neck, the words slipping out without thought. "God."

Jungkook swallowed hard, suppressing the mix of emotions rising in his chest. Pride at making you feel this way. Anger at knowing someone else had. His jaw clenched briefly before he cleared his throat, forcing a casual hum of acknowledgment. "Good."

He patted your belly a couple more times, as though resetting his focus. "You okay to get dressed?" he asked, his voice slipping into something nonchalant, though the grip on your thighs lingered a moment longer than necessary. "I've got a meeting soon."

You cleared your throat and nodded, feeling a little unsteady as you began to push yourself up from his lap. His hands helped guide you as you stood, and you winced slightly as he slipped out of you, leaving you feeling oddly empty. Your legs wobbled beneath you, but you ignored the sensation, letting your skirt fall back into place. You glanced around the room, searching for your panties.

You crouched down, looking under the chair, then the desk, even flipping through some of the papers on his desk, but there was no sign of them.

"Have you seen my…?" you trailed off, turning to look at him, feeling the confusion settle in as you noticed his casual indifference. Jungkook, now having disposed of the condom, zipped up his slacks with an air of calmness that seemed just a bit too casual for your liking.

You raised a brow, suspicion growing. His expression mirrored yours with a glint in his eyes.

"Where are they?" you asked, narrowing your gaze.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he straightened his shirt. Then, he casually slipped his hands into his pockets, and that's when you caught the faintest flicker of black lace peeking out from one of them.

You scoffed, stepping toward him, but before you could snatch them back, Jungkook caught your hand. He snickered softly as he brought it to his lips, pressing a mocking kiss to your knuckles.

“01J09. Lock the door when you leave, Y/N." His tone was commanding but light as he slipped past you, grabbing his suit jacket as if nothing had happened. He gave you one last look before walking out of the room, leaving you standing in the middle of his messed-up office.

You slumped back into his chair with a huff, quickly adjusting your bra and buttoning your blouse. As you started to tidy the room, you found some disinfectant wipes in a cupboard and began cleaning the desk, trying to distract yourself.

The sound of the door opening behind you startled you, and you quickly turned, assuming Jungkook had returned. But when you locked eyes with your best friend smirking widely at the scene, your stomach dropped.

"You fucking slut!" Jimin shouted, closing the door behind him as he made his way toward you, cupping your face with both hands. His grin was bright, teasing, as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Holy shit! I'm mortified that I just walked past and saw my best friend getting railed by my boss… but I'm also so fucking happy! So, are you staying? Are you guys a thing? How did it happen? Holy fuck—"

"Jiminie," you whined, pulling his hands away and turning back to the desk to finish cleaning, "I'll tell you later. My legs hurt, and we need to get to the meeting—"

"The meeting's over," Jimin interrupted with a snicker, "it's been an hour."

"What the fuck?!" Panic washed over you as you turned to face him, eyes wide.

Jimin just shrugged, still wearing that smug smile. "It's fine, Y/N. I took notes; they're on our shared drive. It wasn't anything important. Definitely not as important as the 'meeting' you were in."

You snorted, tossing the used wipes into the bin and slipping your heels back on as you made your way toward the door, legs still shaky. "Jesus, Jimin, I can barely walk."

"I noticed," Jimin teased, his voice full of amusement. "Want me to carry you?"

"No thanks," you replied quickly, shuddering at the thought. "I'd rather crawl than have anyone see you carry me out of here."

"Are you at least going to the bathroom to fix your hair and makeup?" he asked, eyeing you critically. "You look like you were attacked by a swarm of wasps..."

You groaned. "Yes, Jiminie. I'm going to the bathroom. Now stop pestering me, or you'll be having movie night alone tomorrow."

His smirk softened into a playful smile. "Okay, okay. I'll wait for you in your office."

You waited for him to leave before entering the pin code to lock Jungkook's office door. After hearing the beep and confirming the door was secure, you turned to head toward the bathroom, only to find Jimin still blocking your path, brows furrowed and eyes wide.

"Jimin-ah, move—"

"He gave you the code to his office?" Jimin's voice was serious now, the lightheartedness from earlier gone.

You blinked at him, confused by the sudden shift in his tone. "Yes. Can you please move?"

Jimin didn't budge. His frown deepened as he processed the information. “Y/N… He doesn't just give the code to his office out. To anyone."

Your stomach twisted at his words. "Maybe he'll change it later. He said he had a meeting to go to—"

Jimin shook his head. "He hasn't changed that code since he took over. And… he just canceled his meetings for this afternoon. I thought it was because…"

The sinking feeling in your stomach grew worse. Of course, Jungkook lied and just wanted to leave. What was he supposed to do—sit there and cuddle you? Offer you aftercare? This wasn't new for him. You weren't special. Just another woman in a long line.

You swallowed hard, ignoring the bile rising in your throat. "Jiminie, can I… meet you downstairs? I need to go to the bathroom."

Jimin's expression softened instantly, his hand reaching out to brush some hair from your face before leaning in to kiss your forehead. "Okay, love. I'll get you some water and wait in your office."

You thanked him quietly before heading to the bathroom, locking the door before you leaned heavily against the sink. Staring at your reflection, you sighed at the sight. Your sleek ponytail was merely a distant memory, makeup smeared beyond repair. And there, on your neck, was a deep hickey blooming against your skin.

"Idiot," you muttered to yourself as you turned the tap on, starting to scrub your face clean in attempt to erase every trace of what just happened.

What was happening to you? You never let stuff like this get to you. You'd had more than your fair share of one-night stands, and you knew better than to let them mean anything. It was nothing to him, and it should've been nothing to you.

But god, it felt like so much more than nothing.

"Idiotttt," you muttered again, this time more frustrated. As you aggressively wiped away the mascara and dried tears, your eyes kept drifting back to the hickey. You sighed, knowing you had no makeup to cover it until you got back to your office.

With a huff, you walked toward the toilet and sat down, your hand grazing the mark on your neck while you peed. The memory of his lips still lingered fresh in your mind, and the longer you sat there, the more the reality of it all began to sink in.

Fuck, you groaned internally. You're obsessed.

Jungkook pulled the keys from the ignition, stepping out of his car and adjusting the collar of his suit jacket when it shifted out of place. The door clicked shut behind him as he locked the Mercedes, casually slipping his phone into his pocket—right next to your panties, still snug in the black fabric of his slacks.

When he reached the reception desk, a fake redhead sat behind it, focused on a stack of paperwork. She didn’t notice him at first, not until the sound of his footsteps caught her attention. The moment her eyes met his, Jungkook noticed the way she straightened in her seat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Oh, hello,” she greeted, her voice sweet but dripping with an attempt at seduction. “Welcome to Jang Merriott. How can I be of service?”

Jungkook swallowed the grimace threatening to surface, but his lips curved into that fake, charming smile he’d perfected for work events. “Hi, darling.” His voice was smooth, just the right amount of warmth. “I’m here for a business meeting, but I’m so silly...” He leaned in slightly, watching her eyes widen. His voice dropped to a lower, more intimate tone. “I forgot which room it’s in. Think you could help me?”

His eyes flicked to her nametag—Cho Minju—and when he looked back, he could practically see her mind spinning. “I-I…” she stammered, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Do you have the name of the—”

“Lee Dohyun,” Jungkook answered easily, not missing the way she gulped when he added softly, “Thank you, baby.”

“L-Lee Dohyun,” she echoed nervously, typing the name into the system with shaky fingers. Then she paused, biting her lip. “I, um… I really shouldn’t if you aren’t—if you’re not on the guest list…”

“It would really help me out, Minju-yah,” Jungkook murmured, his voice taking on a softer, boyish edge. His brows furrowed just slightly as he leaned in a touch more, looking at her through his lashes. “If I’m late, Dohyun-seonsaengnim will kill me… I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

Her wide eyes blinked up at him, her lip caught between her teeth. He could see the internal battle playing out in her head—protocol versus the hot guy in front of her. Predictably, protocol lost.

“Floor 13, room 304,” she whispered, her cheeks flushed.

“Thank you, baby,” Jungkook replied with a charming smile, slipping a hundred-dollar bill into her tip jar before walking toward the elevator. Minju’s breath caught again as he turned and walked toward the elevator, not looking back once.

As the elevator doors slid shut with a soft chime, Jungkook’s facade dropped, and he let out a small, amused scoff. He thought that was going to cost him at least a couple grand.

The elevator hummed softly as it ascended. When the monotone voice announced floor 13, the doors slid open, revealing a quiet, plush carpeted hallway. Jungkook strode out, his eyes narrowing slightly as he made his way to room 304.

“Jungkook-seonsaengnim?” Dohyun’s voice cracked in surprise when he opened the door, eyes widening at the unexpected sight of his boss. “I’m on leave, sir, is everything oka—”

The words barely left his mouth before Jungkook’s fist connected sharply with the side of his jaw. The force of the blow sent Dohyun crashing to the ground, his head snapping back as he sprawled out, half-dangling outside the doorway. His feet splayed awkwardly on the floor, barely moving. Jungkook nudged his limp body inside with the toe of his polished shoe, stepping over him as he calmly closed the door behind him with a soft click.

“Everything’s fine, Dohyun.” Jungkook’s voice was casual, almost too calm, as he crouched down to level his gaze with the man on the floor. Dohyun was clutching his jaw, eyes wide with terror, blinking back tears as he struggled to sit up. Confusion mixed with fear spread across his face, trembling as he tried to find his words.

Jungkook tilted his head, a slow, cold smirk pulling at his lips. "Great, actually," he continued, the menace in his voice unmistakable. His eyes flickered over the man on the ground as if he were nothing more than something to be dealt with. “And it’ll be even better in a second.”

TODAY

The soft click of heels against tile echoed down the pristine hall of level nineteen. Jimin and Hobi were either side of you, all three of you deep in conversation about Jimin's latest epic love saga.

“And afterward, we went and got ice cream,” Jimin sighed, a dreamy smile spreading across his lips. “And he even paid for my cone. I think he’s the one.”

You and Hobi shared a knowing look before turning back to him. Hobi giggled, shaking his head, while you leaned your head on Jimin’s shoulder, smiling warmly. “I’m sure he is, honey. Was it at least a double scoop?”

Jimin beamed, nodding enthusiastically, but his excitement faltered the second he caught the teasing smirks plastered on your and Hobi’s faces. His expression morphed into a pout as he narrowed his eyes at the both of you.

"Whatever. Just because you—" Jimin shot a pointed look at Hobi, "—don’t sleep with anyone more than once because of your deep-rooted commitment issues, and you—" he turned his accusing gaze to you, "—have found the only person in Seoul as crazy and fucked up as you to spend the rest of your life with, doesn’t make Min Yoongi any less of a perfect prince."

Hoseok grunted, crossing his arms dramatically as you broke into laughter. "You're not wrong," you hummed with a shrug, right as Hobi muttered defensively, "I don't have commitment issues."

It was Hobi’s turn to receive knowing looks from both of you before he sighed, dramatically slowing his pace as you reached the entrance of the meeting room. "Whatever, you guys suck."

Snickering softly, the three of you stepped inside, bowing politely to the handful of executives already seated around the large meeting table. As usual, the three of you were early, but you noticed that a few others had already claimed their seats. Unfortunately, there weren’t three consecutive spots left for you all to sit together.

Your gaze immediately went to the head of the table, the seat reserved for the CEO, which was still empty. You knew Jungkook was in a meeting with Kim Namjoon that had run overtime, so their arrival was indefinitely delayed.

The seat closest to the CEO’s chair—Namjoon’s usual spot—was unoccupied, but the one on the opposite end, typically claimed by you, Jimin, or Hobi, was already taken. You felt your blood boil when you saw Heejin, the newly appointed temp head of Communications while Sana Minatozaki was on maternity leave, sitting there comfortably, scrolling through a document on her laptop.

Jimin caught your eye, noticing Heejin as well, and gestured toward the chair next to her, silently offering it to you. You just shook your head, flashing a small smile as if to say, no fucking thanks. He and Hobi settled into two seats beside each other, leaving you to scan the rest of the room for an available spot.

Your options weren’t great.

A middle seat between Hailey and Vernon—two relentless chatterboxes from levels three and four—caught your eye. You grimaced immediately at the thought of being dragged into their non-stop, ping-pong conversation about god knows what. They could probably talk about fucking office supplies for hours if given the chance.

Then your gaze shifted to the next option: a seat next to Kang Minho, the scruffy finance head. As expected, he was already twirling a cigar between his fingers, his eyes twitching in clear defiance of the new no-smoking rule in meetings. The urge to light it was practically vibrating off him.

You sighed.

That left the only bearable choice: a seat next to Oh Sehun, the head of Technology and Innovation. He was known to be quiet and professional, and most importantly, he's least likely to annoy you.

Resigned, you pulled the chair next to Sehun, placing your laptop and phone on the table in front of you. He glanced over with a polite smile, nodding in greeting. You returned the gesture, settling into your seat and immediately focusing on starting up your laptop.

The room settled into a quiet lull, with only a few hushed conversations breaking the silence. Most of the attendees were either finishing up side discussions or preparing for the meeting as they trickled in. As your laptop booted up, you instinctively picked up your phone, slipping it under the table. Your fingers moved quickly, opening the location app and tapping on Jungkook’s name. The pin was still loading when you heard a throat clear beside you.

Oh, here we fucking go.

“Y/N-ssi?”

You locked your phone and turned toward Sehun with a forced smile. "Yes, Sehun-ssi. How can I help?"

His smile widened slightly, a little shy. "Uh, I just wanted to say… congratulations. Your promotion to Head of Operations & Efficiency—it's no small feat. Not an easy title to earn or handle. But I've seen your work, and it's… admirable. Truly."

You almost frowned, caught off guard. That was… really sweet.

"Oh," you replied, your voice softening. "Thank you, Sehun-ssi, that’s very kind of you. I appreciate it a lot." You smiled genuinely this time. "And I’ve heard a lot about you, too. Running your department is also no easy task, and you do it well."

Sehun grinned, his head dipping slightly as his ears turned a bit red. "Ah, thank you so much," he murmured, looking humbled. "I’ve learned a lot from our CEO, Jungkook-seonsaengnim. He’s incredible. One day, I hope to have my own business and run it just like him."

You bit the inside of your lip, warmth swelling in your chest at the compliment to your man. "He is," you agreed softly, your smile a little more private this time. "And I’m sure you will."

Sehun’s lip was caught between his teeth as his eyes seemed to linger just below yours, but before you could say anything else, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room, drawing your attention. You turned toward the entrance.

Jungkook and Namjoon strode into the room, their presence immediately commanding attention. Namjoon greeted the department heads with a dimply smile, but your eyes locked onto Jungkook. His gaze, however, wasn’t on you—it was unwaveringly fixed on Sehun’s reddened face. A flash of something dark crossed his features, and he didn’t spare you or anyone else a glance as he took his seat at the head of the table.

Straightening in your chair, you swallowed the scoff that rose in your throat. He didn’t even acknowledge you, his attention already on the file in front of him as he flipped through it silently. Namjoon’s eyes flickered over Jungkook’s hardened expression before realizing the CEO wouldn’t be opening the meeting. Clearing his throat, Namjoon stood up and took over.

"Good morning, everyone. Glad to see you all here," Namjoon greeted, flashing a bright, toothy smile. The room responded with polite murmurs. "We’ve got a full agenda today, so let’s start with—"

About thirty minutes into the meeting, you were still focused on your notes. Namjoon was wrapping up his discussion on a new marketing campaign strategy that had piqued your interest. You were typing up the last few points when Jungkook’s deep voice suddenly rang out. Your body reacted instantly, muscles relaxing after hearing him finally speak after what felt like hours of his silence.

"Sehun," Jungkook called out, his tone firm and commanding, and your head snapped up instinctively, surprised to find that Sehun had leaned over, perhaps about to whisper something to you while Namjoon was speaking.

"Did you have a question about the campaign strategy?" Jungkook’s voice was measured, but you felt the tension behind it.

Sehun jerked back, startled by the sudden attention. "Oh, I- no, sir, I was just—"

"Conversing with your colleague while your superior was in the middle of speaking," Jungkook finished for him, his dark gaze unwavering, pinning the tech head in place. "I'm sure I’d be more than capable of answering any questions you have regarding the project. Go ahead."

It wasn’t a suggestion—it was an order.

Sehun swallowed nervously, eyes flicking down to his laptop as if it held the answers. Then, foolishly, he glanced at you, probably hoping for some kind of lifeline. You could only offer him an apologetic look, knowing your boyfriend's ways.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched visibly, his irritation evident as he barked out, "Do you need her to speak for you?" His fist tightened on the table beside him, knuckles paling. "Are you that incompetent?"

Your gaze slowly shifted from Sehun, who was visibly shaken, to your boyfriend, who was fucking seething. You sighed softly, dropping your gaze back to your laptop, fingers resuming their typing with a small shake of your head.

And then his voice came again. A little softer, but still pissed. "Did you have something to add, Y/N?"

Your fingers froze mid-typing. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. You could feel every pair of eyes turning to you. Everyone knew about your relationship with Jungkook. It wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t exactly something you had announced over the firm intercom, either. Most of the department heads were aware and knew better than to draw attention to it, but there were still some, like poor Sehun, who hadn’t quite pieced it together yet.

When you looked up, Jungkook’s dark eyes were locked on you. From your peripheral, you saw Jimin and Hobi exchanging wide-eyed glances, while Heejin’s gaze flickered nervously between you and the CEO.

Every fiber in your bratty being wanted to fight back, make him repeat himself, ask him what the fuck he was trying to prove by putting you on the spot in front of a room full of department heads. But the professional in you won out, forcing you to bite your tongue.

You shook your head calmly. "No, sir." The silence was deafening. You turned to Namjoon, whose eyes were carefully trained on his papers. "My apologies, Namjoon-seongsaengnim," you said. "We didn’t mean to interrupt you. Please, continue."

Namjoon nodded appreciatively, sending you a brief smile before moving on. “Right, as I was saying…”

The meeting finally wrapped up, and everyone began packing up their things. Some were quicker than others to vacate the room, with Kang Minho leading the pack, cigar already halfway to his lips, lighter flicking in agitation.

You closed your laptop with a little more force than intended, irritation still simmering under your skin. Grabbing your jacket off the back of your chair, you stood, feeling Sehun shifting beside you, fumbling to gather his things. You could almost sense the apology hanging on the edge of his lips, and you sighed internally, praying he wouldn’t try and engage in conversation with you again.

Jimin and Hobi walked over, ready to leave, but your attention was drawn to Heejin’s voice as she spoke to Jungkook. Your movements slowed as you listened.

“Thank you for such a great meeting, seonsaengnim,” she said sweetly, her fingers tapping the edge of her laptop.

You clenched your jaw slightly, the inside of your cheek caught between your teeth. Namjoon had handled ninety percent of the presentation—what the fuck was she even thanking him for?

“I actually had a few concerns for the Communications department that I was hoping to run by you—"

"Take them up with your superior," Jungkook replied, not even bothering to glance her way as he slipped his phone into his pocket and made his way toward the door.

Heejin smiled, clearly undeterred as she closed her laptop and followed after him. "But you are my superior," she giggled. Your brows furrowed as you turned to look at her follow after your man like a lost puppy. Your grip on your laptop tightened.

Jungkook sighed, forgetting she had even been promoted recently. Still, he didn’t glance at her. “Make an appointment with one of my assistants, Heejin,” he said, his voice dripping with impatience. “I have somewhere to be. Excuse me, please.”

Excuse me, please? You rolled your eyes. Why doesn't he just tell her to get on her knees and get to work?

Heejin nodded, still all smiles as she left the room, laptop clutched to her chest. You gathered your things and fell into step with Jimin and Hobi. Jungkook paused near the end of the table, his gaze boring into you, but you ignored the stare, slipping between your friends as you headed out.

“Y/N-ssi,” Sehun’s voice cut through the air as he jogged to catch up with the three of you.

You sucked your teeth, glancing down at your watch. Fifteen minutes until your production conference. Enough time to grab something to eat since you’d skipped breakfast—thanks to Jungkook’s insistence on christening yet another room in your new house this morning. The laundry room, this time. And as it turns out, sex on top of a dryer was a lot better and less uncomfortable than you’d expected.

Jimin took your laptop from your hands, giving you a soft smile. "I’ll drop this off at your office. Hobi and I are heading that way."

You nodded in thanks, turning back to Sehun, only to catch Jungkook’s eyes glaring at you from behind the tech leader’s frame. His brows were furrowed, a silent question written all over his face—what the fuck are you doing?

Ignoring your fuming boyfriend, you refocused on Sehun. "You alright?" you asked.

Sehun nodded quickly. "Yeah, I just—" He started to say more but stopped abruptly, his body stiffening as if he could feel Jungkook's glare on the back of his neck. Turning, he blinked, clearly startled to see the CEO still there. "Oh—hi, sir. Once again, I’m so sorry about—"

"It’s okay, Sehun-ssi," you cut him off, drawing his attention back to you. "I need to grab something to eat. Is this important?"

Sehun shifted nervously. "Ah, well... it can wait." His ears were going red again. "How much time do you have? Did you want to stop by the cafe on level 10 before your conference? I was heading there anyway—"

At that, Jungkook’s head snapped up, his gaze zeroing in as he pushed himself off the table. You stepped around Sehun, positioning yourself between him and your clearly furious boyfriend.

"No, thank you, Sehun. I’ll catch you later, okay?" You kept your tone light, ignoring the fact that you had definitely not told him that you were on your way to a conference.

Sehun, still a bit confused, turned slightly to see what had you moving so quickly. And that’s when he saw it—Jungkook’s dark, cold glare burning holes through him. Before Sehun could stutter another word, Jungkook’s eyes flicked down to you, noting the goosebumps on your arms. He grabbed the jacket from your hands and silently made you slip your arms into it.

That’s when the realization hit Sehun like a fucking brick.

His face went ghostly pale, and you could visibly see him swallow nervously. "Oh my god… are you—are you two—"

You nodded simply, sliding your arms into the jacket as Jungkook remained silently brooding behind you.

"I—I am so—sir, I’m so sorry! I would never—"

"Sehun-ssi, it’s fine." You gave him a polite, almost bored smile. "Let's talk later."

Sehun barely managed a shaky nod before he bolted, red-faced and flustered, out of the room.

"You’re such a jealous psycho," you muttered under your breath, turning to face Jungkook, who was still fuming quietly. You puckered your lips for a kiss.

Jungkook just glared, his eyes flicking to your lips for a moment before leaning down to give you a quick, soft peck. You frowned, leaning in for another, but he pulled back, narrowing his eyes at you.

"Why’d you sit there?" he asked, glancing down at your jacket, noticing you hadn’t done up the top two buttons. When he reached to fasten them, you smacked his hand away, refusing to let him make you look like a nun.

"Because your girlfriend was in my usual seat," you shot back, poking him in the stomach before turning on your heel and heading toward the door.

"And I’m the jealous one?" he muttered, flicking the lights off as he followed behind you.

"Yes," you hummed, walking down the now-empty hall, clear of all the departmental seniors and visitors.

You reached the elevator when Jungkook’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind, his head resting comfortably in the crook of your neck. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his warm cheek as you reached out to press the down arrow.

"That poor boy almost pissed himself because of you."

"I felt like I was very soft on him," Jungkook shrugged, taking a deep inhale of your honey scented skin before pressing a kiss to your neck and standing upright. His hands slipped under your jacket to rest on your belly over your blouse, his fingers grazing your skin gently. "Could’ve been a lot worse."

You chuckled, rolling your eyes, but couldn’t resist the urge to look up at his adorable pout. You puckered your lips again, and this time, he gave in, leaning down for a proper kiss. Spinning in his arms, his hands fell naturally to rest on your ass as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.

A soft moan escaped your lips when his tongue slid between them, licking into your mouth in the way only he could. It felt like only milliseconds before the elevator dinged, snapping you back to reality. You reluctantly pulled away, biting his lip gently before spinning around to face the opening doors.

The elevator revealed Kim Namjoon, standing there with his head tilted, eyebrow raised. "Jungkook-ah, the board is waiting. Answer your fuckin' phone, man," the CCO huffed, gesturing for you both to step inside with a hurried wave of his hand.

You smiled at Namjoon and walked into the elevator, Jungkook right behind you. His hand found its way back to your belly, rubbing absentmindedly as you hit the button for level 12.

Namjoon scrolled through something on his phone, snickering. "What time are you planning on getting there tonight, Kook? The RSVP says 6, but they don’t start serving drinks until 8, so I'll be there around 9," he chuckled.

Your ears perked up at the mention of the event. You fiddled with Jungkook’s tattooed fingers on your stomach, glancing up at him as you waited for him to respond.

"For what?" Jungkook asked, not looking up from his phone.

You almost frowned at his response. He already told you he had a sponsorship function tonight. Jungkook never forgets things like that.

Namjoon barely glanced up. "That promo celebration for the girl taking over for Sana-ssi?" He explained, locking his phone and leaning back. "Shit, I forgot if we need to bring gifts. I'll check with my assistant—"

You didn’t hear anything after that. Everything faded, the muffled sounds of the elevator blending together like white noise. Jungkook’s hand stiffened against your stomach, and that was all the confirmation you needed.

He hadn’t gotten his schedule mixed up. He knew damn well what event Namjoon was referring to. The "sponsorship function" was actually a celebration for that dirty slut from level 7, and that dirty slut from level 7 had gotten a permanent promotion, which would bring her even closer when fucking working with him.

The elevator doors slid open, and without a second thought, you shoved Jungkook’s hand off you and stormed out.

"Baby," Jungkook was immediately on your tail, ignoring Namjoon’s confused calls from behind.

"Wh— Jungkook-ah? What the fuck? Where are you going?"

"Baby, wait." Jungkook's voice was tense as he caught up to you, but when his hand reached out to grab your arm, you shoved it off aggressively.

"I’m so fucking serious right now, don’t touch me, Jungkook." You spat, whipping around to face him. He just shook his head, trying to step closer, but you put your hand up, keeping him at a distance. "I’m not fucking kidding—"

"Baby, listen to me—" he tried, his voice urgent.

"Get the fuck away from me," you snapped, digging into your pocket for your phone, your fingers trembling as you scrolled through your contacts. "God, you know I fucking hate it when you lie, and you just—" You groaned, your fist tightening around your phone as you shoved his hands off you once again.

"Who are you texting?" Jungkook frowned, trying to get a look at your phone over your shoulder.

"None of your fucking business," you spat, stepping out of his reach.

"Y/N, don't. If you're not going to let me explain—"

"My mom," you snapped sarcastically, your fingers flying across the screen as you started typing. "They finally adapted technology so you can get cell reception six feet underground now. It's great."

Jungkook scoffed, clearly unamused, but he continued following closely behind you as you started walking again. "If you can lie to me, then I can fucking lie to you, right?" you added mockingly.

He tried to grab your phone, but you dodged him, sending the message just in time. His jaw tightened when he saw the screen. "Like hell you’re sleeping at Jimin’s tonight, are you fucking crazy?"

"Well, I’m not staying in a house with a fucking liar, that’s for sure," you shot back, your tone sharp as you moved further away from him.

"You’re not staying at Jimin’s," he repeated firmly, his voice absolute.

His certainty made you laugh bitterly. "I’m staying at Jimin’s or I’m staying at Hyungwon’s. You fucking choose."

Jungkook’s fists clenched at his sides, his face hardening in disbelief. "Why the fuck would you say that, Y/N?"

"I don't have anywhere to go, Jungkook!" Your voice rose, frustration and pain bubbling to the surface. You could feel eyes on you from the staff scattered around the floor, but you didn’t care. "You are my home. I don’t have anywhere else to fucking—"

Jungkook’s expression softened when your voice broke, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. He stepped closer, his hands slipping under your jacket, palms smoothing down your hips. "Then don't fucking go, baby. Just don’t go anywhere, please. Don’t go to Jimin’s." He begged.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt the warmth of his hands, the familiar comfort of his body close to yours. His face rested in the crook of your neck, and despite your anger, you found yourself leaning into him slightly, knowing full well that getting to your conference on time now was just a lost cause.

"Tell me why you lied then," you mumbled, your voice quieter, your sniffles betraying you.

Jungkook pulled back, his thumbs swiping gently under your eyes, wiping the tears away before they could fully form. His fingers brushed under your nose as he wiped away the dribble there. "Because I knew it would upset you. We’ve been doing so well in our new place, baby—I didn’t want anything to ruin it." His voice was soft, almost pleading. "I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was only going to make an appearance and come home straight away."

You studied his face, your own expression softening despite the anger still bubbling inside you. You understood him, you really did. But you still hated when he lied. "Then why didn’t you just ask me to go with you?" Your voice wavered, doubt creeping in despite yourself. "Did you... not want to be seen with me?"

You didn’t even know where the self-doubt was coming from. Jungkook loved you. He loved letting people know you were his. He didn’t care who was around when he kissed you or rested a hand on your body, claiming you without shame. But something about Heejin… She got under your skin in a way that you couldn’t describe. Maybe it was because she’d been here longer, known him longer. She was going to be in meetings with him now—department head meetings, one-on-one meetings. The thought alone made you feel sick.

Jungkook sighed, his hands cupping your cheeks, and pressed two quick, soft kisses on your lips. "Don’t say dumb shit like that," he murmured, his voice soft but firm. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with yours. "I wanted to have a joint office, but you said that was unprofessional or whatever." He rolled his eyes, giving you a little smirk.

You blinked, hugging your arms around yourself, stepping back a little. "Then why?" Your voice was quieter now, laced with the confusion and hurt you couldn’t hide. "Why didn’t you want me to go? I’ve gone with you to plenty of functions."

Jungkook hesitated, and you felt the tension settle back into the air between you. His silence weighed heavy, and that familiar twist of anxiety and anger began to gnaw at you again.

"It’s because of Hyungwon, isn’t it?" you asked, even though you already knew the answer. "You didn’t want me to go because people from his firm are going to be there, and he could be too, right?"

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his eyes hardening slightly as he averted your gaze. He didn’t need to say anything. His silence confirmed everything.

You let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking your head. Not only did he keep you away from a party celebrating the one woman you couldn’t stand the most when it came to him, but he also made sure you didn’t go because of the one man he had a problem with the most when it came to you was attending.

"Fucking hypocrite," you muttered, stepping further back from him, your stomach turning in disgust.

"Baby, it’s not like that—" he started, his tone filled with urgency.

"Then what is it like, Jungkook?" Your voice rose again, frustration spilling out as you threw your hands up. "You didn’t tell me about the party because you knew it would piss me off that it’s for Heejin. But you also didn’t want me to go because there was a chance Hyungwon could be there! So, what? I can’t go because you have a problem, but I’m supposed to sit at home and wait for you like a fucking housewife while you go to a party for a bitch that you know I can’t stand? How the fuck does that make sense?"

Jungkook’s face was a mixture of guilt and frustration. He took a step toward you, but you held up your hand again, stopping him in his tracks.

"God, can you just go away?" you spat, your voice trembling slightly as you felt the tears begin to well up again. Shaking your head, you started to walk away.

"Baby," Jungkook grunted, his frustration growing as he followed you.

"No, Jungkook. I need space. Seriously." You didn’t even turn around, your voice sharp as you neared your office.

"We don’t do space. That’s not how we work," he argued, right behind you.

"Well, maybe we need to start doing space," you snapped, reaching for the door handle.

Before you could pull the door open, Jungkook grabbed your wrist, spinning you around to face him. His eyes were intense, wild, like he was barely keeping himself together. "If you keep walking away from me, I'm going to follow you into that conference room and make you sit in my fucking lap during your entire presentation."

The seriousness in his voice made you want to roll your eyes, but you kept your expression blank, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched when you didn’t answer, but he didn’t stop. "I can’t have you two in the same room, Y/N." His voice was low, almost dangerous, as if just saying Hyungwon’s name triggered something in him.

You just blinked, still silent.

“If I see him anywhere near you, I’ll kill him.” Jungkook said it simply, like it was just another fact. “I wouldn’t regret it. But they probably won’t let you stay in my cell with me, would they, baby?” His brows furrowed, head tilting as he asked, like he was genuinely curious to know the answer.

a/n i cut it here because the rest is nawttt edited at all and very rough 😬 but any takers on a part 3 ??!!?! just give me 6 months and it's all yours xx

[hazzashouse]

The Weight of a Name PART I

Author’s Note: This was my first attempt at writing for Anthony Bridgerton, and I loved delving into his intensity and passion. I’m considering writing a part two—let me know if you’d like to see where this story goes!

Triggers: Emotional confrontation, feelings of rejection, societal pressure

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,703

Summary: When Anthony Bridgerton’s relentless pursuit of you reaches its breaking point, a fiery confrontation reveals the depths of his feelings.

PART TWO: here

The soft hum of violins and lilting laughter echoed throughout the ballroom. It was a scene of perfection, one carefully orchestrated by the host to impress even the most critical members of the ton. You moved with grace, your every step measured and deliberate, but your mind was far from composed.

Anthony Bridgerton was watching you.

You had felt his eyes on you all evening, and no matter how hard you tried to shake the weight of his gaze, it lingered. It wasn’t just that he watched—it was the way he looked at you. As if he already had you. As if his claim was inevitable.

But Anthony Bridgerton wasn’t the kind of man you trusted easily. His reputation was whispered about behind fans and through veiled glances. He was handsome, yes, and powerful, but he was also dangerous. The stories of his past were enough to make even the boldest debutantes wary.

You had no intention of falling for a man like him.

————————

Later that evening, you had sought refuge on the balcony, eager for a moment of quiet. The cool air kissed your skin as you inhaled deeply, savoring the temporary escape. But your peace was short-lived.

“You’re avoiding me.”

The low, irritated voice made you stiffen. You turned to find Anthony standing just beyond the balcony doors, his jaw set and his dark eyes locked on you.

“I wasn’t aware I was obligated to seek you out,” you replied evenly, though your voice betrayed a hint of exasperation.

Anthony stepped closer, his movements deliberate. “You know precisely what I mean,” he said, his tone clipped. “I’ve been trying to speak with you all evening, but you’ve been too busy entertaining every other man in this room.”

Your temper flared, and you straightened your spine. “Perhaps that’s because every other man in this room doesn’t believe he has some divine right to my attention.”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed, and he took another step closer. “Is that truly what you think of me?” he asked, his voice low but seething.

“What else am I to think?” you shot back, your voice rising. “You stride into every room as if the world should bow at your feet, as if no one could possibly resist the great Viscount Bridgerton. Well, I’m not one of your conquests, my lord, and I won’t be treated as such.”

Anthony’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing. But then he stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a near-growl. “You think I’m trying to conquer you? That this is some sort of game to me? I have been chasing you for months. I’ve ignored every other debutante, turned down every match my mother has pushed my way, and still, you look at me as if I’m nothing more than a rogue.”

Your chest heaved as his words hit their mark. “And why shouldn’t I?” you demanded, your voice trembling with emotion. “Do you deny it? Do you deny the countless women, the scandalous liaisons, the reputation you’ve so carefully crafted? How am I to believe you would ever honor a vow made to me when you’ve broken so many others?”

Anthony flinched, and for a moment, his mask slipped. There was pain in his eyes, a vulnerability you hadn’t expected. “I am not proud of my past,” he said quietly. “But you—you’ve made me want to be better. To be more than what they say I am.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “And I’m supposed to believe that? Because you’ve paid me a few compliments and danced with me a handful of times? Forgive me, my lord, but I’ve seen how easily you charm others. I won’t be another name on your list.”

Anthony’s temper snapped, and he grabbed your wrist—not harshly, but firmly enough to stop you from walking away. “You don’t understand what you’re doing to me,” he said, his voice rough and urgent. “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t think of anything but you. Every time I see you with another man, it feels like a knife to my chest. And yet, you look at me as if I’m nothing, as if I’m unworthy of even your consideration.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. His grip on your wrist softened, and he took a step back, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he continued, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “To feel so completely undone by someone. To want them so desperately, so utterly, and to know they see you as nothing more than a mistake waiting to happen.”

Your eyes stung with unshed tears, but you refused to let them fall. “Do you think this is easy for me?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Do you think I enjoy rejecting you, knowing I might be giving up on something—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “But I can’t ignore the part of me that’s terrified you’ll hurt me. That I’ll wake up one day and realize I was nothing more than a passing infatuation to you.”

Anthony stared at you, his chest heaving. “You think I would hurt you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “After everything I’ve done to prove myself to you?”

“What have you done, Anthony?” you demanded, your voice rising again. “You’ve watched me from across ballrooms and interrupted my dances, but have you ever truly shown me who you are? Or are you still hiding behind the charm and arrogance that the ton has come to expect from you?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Anthony’s jaw clenched, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You’re right,” he said finally, his voice trembling with restraint. “You don’t know who I am. But that’s because you’ve never given me the chance to show you.”

Your heart ached at the raw emotion in his voice, but you refused to back down. “Perhaps I would have, if I believed you were capable of being the man I need.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But then he stepped back, his expression hardening into one of cold resolve. “You’ll regret this,” he said quietly, his voice laced with both pain and anger. “You’ll regret not taking the chance when you had it.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone on the balcony with your heart pounding and your hands shaking.

As you stared after him, a single thought echoed in your mind.

Had you made a mistake?

————————

PART TWO: here

[sevikasupremacy]

Can you write something about grayson who's busy lots of the time with sexually frustrated reader ✋

Oh this is gonna be very interesting ;)

Grayson x SexuallyFrustrated!Reader

NSFW!

➼ Everyone knows how hardworking Grayson is. She’s a Sheriff for a reason.

➼ And you fully understood that too when you agreed to take your relationship with her to the next step.

➼ You rarely spend time with her at home due to the endless responsibilities she had to take care of— but that didn’t really bother you… well, at the start of your relationship with her.

➼ I mean look at her—

➼ Can you really control yourself when she’s standing there looking like a three-coursed meal?

➼ You would be lying if you said you hadn’t taken her unwashed uniform from the laundry basket to sniff on as you touch yourself.

➼ Or how you would grind against the pillow while moaning her name.

➼ It literally drives you insane that it’s not Grayson who was touching you right now.

➼ Because of her busy schedule and duties that were assigned by the Council, Grayson usually comes home really late.

➼ You tried to stay awake to wait for her but you failed countless of times.

➼ But it’s not like you never get what you want—

➼ You count it as a lucky day if Grayson comes home early.

➼ That’s when you get to spend more time with her, and of course…it always results in the two of you naked in bed, gasping for air.

➼ And whenever you guys had the chance to fuck, you just couldn’t get enough of it.

➼ One round was never enough.

➼ Grayson is very gentle in bed. *She’s a soft dom*

➼ But deep down, you kinda wished she was more rough.

➼ Honestly Grayson never knew how fucking needy you were

➼ Not until one night when she wanted to surprise you with a bouquet of flowers for your anniversary.

➼ Grayson eagerly opened the door to her house and headed to the bedroom, hiding the flower bouquet behind her.

➼ Just as she was about to turn the doorknob, the calling of her name made her pause.

➼ She stood there dumbfounded for a second before slightly opening the door, peeking inside.

➼ And what she saw was a jaw-dropping scene.

➼ You were sprawled on the bed, clothes scattered onto the floor as you played with yourself.

➼ You craned your neck, your two fingers pumping in and out of you as you continued moaning your lover’s name.

➼ Just as you were starting to feel the familiar knot building up inside your stomach, a voice made you freeze.

➼ “Darling..?”

➼ Your eyes flew open, immediately pulling your fingers out before sitting up to stare at the stunned woman in front of you.

➼ Well now you’re caught

➼ Before you could even utter another word, your precious flower bouquet was already thrown across the room and onto the sofa.

➼ And you were met with a lustful pair of eyes.

➼ “Continue, Dear… Why did you stop? Do you play with yourself often? Show me exactly how you do it.”

➼ You bit your lip in embarrassment as your two fingers returned to your throbbing entrance.

➼ Grayson’s eyes were fixated on every single movement.

➼ She watched how your fingers would disappear inside you.

➼ She would watch you until you ride your orgasm before overstimulating you.

➼ This was what you wished for after all—

➼ Let’s just say that she didn’t let you take a break after seeing that.

➼ Honestly, you lost track of how many rounds it had been.

➼ But you had to admit—

➼ You enjoyed every second of it :)

[hugheshischier4313]

YOU MISS HIM DON’T YOU | Q. HUGHES

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x reader

Warnings: maybe emotional cheating?

Word count: 2k

Author’s note: Hi lovelies! I was rewatching desperate housewives and a certain scene encouraged me to write something similar. It was supposed to be a quick little Drabble/blurb but im at 10 pages now and still not done. So here’s a snippet :)

———————————————————————

Quinn had known about your boyfriend from the very beginning. He had seen you together, bringing boxes to the apartment beside his, and noticed you immediately. He wished he could say it had all been innocent, but the first thing he saw was how your legs looked in the tennis skirt you had been wearing. You bent down to pick up a fallen pillow as he exited his car in the parking garage. His eyes lingered on you, and he forced himself to turn away before you noticed. He swore he would offer to help you before he met eyes with Andrew as he stepped out of the parking garage elevator.

"I didn't mean to; it just happened. You were bent over, in a skirt, right outside my car; it was hard to look away when I didn't expect you to be there." Quinn had a slight pink tone to his features right now, and you were smiling, trying to suppress a laugh. You stood in the kitchen, pouring the margaritas into your cups.

"You mean the skirt I'm wearing right now? Is that why you mentioned it? Quinn, you could have kept that secret forever. I mean, you couldn't waterboard that information out of me." You were always more giggly when drinking, which was contagious to Quinn. "But since you didn't, I'm gonna use this against you for the foreseeable future."  The laugh left you when you got back to Quinn's couch. "I'll try not to make any sudden movements that may catch you off guard," you teased as you stood before him and handed him his drink.

"It's not funny; I've felt bad about this for months." he tried to be serious, but the smile never left his face. As you nodded with a smirk on your lip, you turned from him after he grabbed the glass, "Y/N, I'm serious." He wasn't; he could never stay upset with you, even in a joking manner. 

"I guess I'll just go back to my apartment then; I don't want to bring back any of your past shame." your body once again turned towards him as you leaned down over to hug him, "Bye, Hughes, I'll make sure to only wear this when you're out of town." He let out a sarcastic 'ha.' "You don't have to leave; I can control myself. I promise." he rolled his eyes and slowly got up to stop you.

"I don't know; I think the only logical answer is to wear your Drew sweats." You had pivoted and ran to his room before he could reply. You had bugged him countless times to try them on over the past months; you had just wanted to see if they were worth the hype because the black sweats had been sold out forever (and maybe, subconsciously, because of your past love for Justin Bieber). And every time he said no, you took this as your opportunity to try them and bug him simultaneously.

Being in Quinn's room was familiar to you. You had spent most days at one of the two apartments, and sometimes that meant laying in his bed watching TV after he had just returned from a string of away games or after a challenging game or practice. You had worn his clothes before, too; it was always in a platonic way, the first time you had locked yourself out after being out on a run when it started raining. You lost your key on the run, and the concierge was gone for the night. You had also spent the night; he let you sleep in his bed and took the couch. 

As you ran into the room, you closed the door behind you and walked into the closet, closing that door, too. You had found the sweats and slowly walked out of the closet. There was no sight of Quinn, and the bedroom door was still closed. You walked towards the door, sweats in your hand, as you called out to him, "Q? Are you -" But you were cut off as he tackled you onto the bed next to you.

The two of you lay on the bed laughing before turning to face each other. The laughter died down, and you were smiling and looking at each other. The two of you lay there for a while, not saying anything until you broke the silence, "Your eyes are a different colour every time I see you, but today I can see every shade in them." You don't know why you needed to share your observation with him, but it felt right. "You cut your hair." He reached out to tuck a strand behind your ear and play with the end of another. His voice had been so him, soft yet dominant. It was true; you had gotten a slight trim the day before and a few longer layers at the bottom of your hair, a small and simple detail that could have been missed. In fact, he was the only person to notice; none of your classmates or even Andrew, although over Facetime, had noticed. 

The room felt heavy as you looked from his hand in your hair to his eyes again, stopping to look at his lips for a second. And when you reached his gaze, it was unreadable. "I -" A phone began to ring as Quinn was about to speak. You could see a shift in his demeanour as you continued to look at him. He got up to find the cause of the sound. "It's your phone." He walked it over to you before heading out to the living room again. The phone illuminated ANDREW CALLING.

You looked towards the empty doorway as you brought the phone up to your ear. "Hey you," your playful voice sounded forced, and the smile on your lips was even more so. "Hey, I have a surprise for you. The notification said it was in the lobby." This shocked you, not only because it was a surprise but because Andrew was never one for small gestures. It was always something big like him ordering 4 dozen roses to your desk after your fourth date. But he had never just sent you or given you something randomly.

Andrew could be a sweet guy; you worked together before he asked you to have dinner with him. You knew you were moving and had no intention of starting anything serious before moving to Vancouver, but he had been so persistent, and it felt nice to have a distraction with all the craziness of moving. But living in different provinces has brought no comfort to either of you. It felt like pen pals most of the time. You would call him a few times a week and talk for an hour before he had to go. There had been a few times where you could have sworn you heard someone else there, but the times you mentioned it, it felt like the fight had been more trouble than the issue itself.

And maybe subconsciously, you felt like a hypocrite. Your relationship with Quinn was platonic, but the number of times you were confused as a couple in public could be seen another way. In fact, you hated to admit it, but it felt like you communicated more with Quinn when he was away than with your boyfriend. 

"There's something for me in the lobby of my apartment complex? Andrew, what did you do? It's 7pm?" As you started talking, Quinn walked into view, bringing your drinks and extending to you. "It's a surprise; you should go get it now; I'm assuming it's just on the concierge desk based on the picture." You stared up at Quinn as you listened to Andrew, "Okay, I'll be down in a minute, and I'll call you back once I have it." The phone call was quickly over. 

"What did you order?" Quinn asked with a smile, used to all the packages you've received. A few that had been too heavy for you to carry on your own that Quinn had taken himself. Even when they hadn't been too heavy, he would carry them for you if he was there. "I'm not sure, Andrew sent it to me." You could have sworn there was a look on his face that was gone as quickly as it appeared. "You want me to go with you in case you need help?" there was no hesitation in your quick reply of 'yes.'

As the two of you walked down the hall, you were overly aware of the distance between you. It was no different than it had been in the past, but there was a particular charge. The words shared and unshared in the bedroom hung heavy. "So I never got to even put the sweats on," you joked while waiting in front of the elevator. "You can borrow them when we get back up if you want," his answer made your breath hitch. He had never let you try them on, much less borrow them.

He looked at you, letting you walk into the elevator first. The ride down was quick and quiet, but how you looked at each other made everything race faster. Your heartbeat quickened as you saw his slight deviation towards your lips before making their way back up. "Quinn," your voice came out as a low plea; whether it was to continue or to stop was uncertain. He stepped closer to you as the two of you stood in silence for a brief moment before the doors opened. As you stepped out, your heart felt heavy.

As you made your way towards the front desk, you saw the back of a man at the desk, but when you heard the voice,  it made you freeze. Andrew, he was in your lobby waiting for you, Quinn failed to notice your pause and ran into you. However, before you could tip forward, Quinn had steadied you with a hand on your arm and waist. Andrew called out when he turned around. 

"Andrew! What are you doing here?" You didn't miss the look he gave the sight of the two of you or how his gaze only lingered on Quinn's hand on your waist as he walked closer. You unhooked yourself from Quinn to hug Andrew. The hug was stiff; he held himself higher, and his head hadn't moved from the position it had been in before. You figured he was still looking at Quinn. 

"I wanted to surprise you; we settled a case earlier than expected, so I took a few days off." You had pulled yourself to his side, a view of both him and Quinn. They kept looking towards each other, completely ignoring you. "Well, Andrew, this is my friend I always tell you about, Quinn. He introduced himself the day I moved in, remember? He lives next door to me." Andrew smiled down at you as you continued. "Quinn, you remember Andrew." Quinn looked from you to Andrew before extending his hand. "Good to see you again, man." Andrew hesitated before shaking his hand. 

There was a quick silence before Quinn grabbed his phone from his pocket and looked at the screen, excusing himself, "I have to make a phone call; I'll see you around," but before he could walk off, you gave him a side hug goodbye. You had done it a thousand times before, and feeling like you couldn't because Andrew was there didn't feel like a good sign, so you did it anyway. "I'll text you," you quietly said as you let go.

The next few days had been uneventful, showing Andrew around Vancouver. The hallway had felt unusually empty each time you passed, hoping to run into Quinn. A string of away games was starting that Monday, and when you came back from dropping off Andrew at the airport on Sunday night, you noticed the bag sitting in front of your apartment door. 

The black sweats were inside with a note, 'I'll pick them up when I'm back. Enjoy :). ~ Q" He never asked for them back

———————————————————————

[madschiavelique]

Okay but picture this, Miguel getting jealous cause of another spiderperson flirting with you

Like he is doing a briefing with a lot of spider people and one of them keeps trying to get your attention and miguel gets jealous, sends everyone away and has a heavily make out on his platform in his office🫣

HIHIHI twirling hair kicking feet at this bestie

summary : miguel gets jealous of a random spiderperson flirting with you (not proofread)

content warnings : posessive!miguel, just jealous miguel, no use of Y/N, fem!reader word count : 1,9k

tag list : @fandom-ash

Miguel had invited a good group of spiderpersons who were still fairly new to the society, to bring them up to speed or simply to remind them of the procedures to follow on a mission.

You were there, just to supervise. Having been part of Miguel's elite group of spiders for some time now, you were perfectly familiar with all the criteria and stages of the anomaly hunt.

Nothing more than a quick briefing. The usual team was there, Hobie, Gwen, Pavitr, Peter B, Jess and you. You stood off to the side, leaning against a wall, arms folded as you watched Miguel give his speech a bit farther away.

"Hey, I've never seen you around before, do we know each other ?

Your eyes went to the person who had just spoken to you. It was an umpteenth Peter, blond-haired, not far from your age, and of course new.

Although you didn't appear everywhere all the time, most of the spiders knew what Miguel's group looked like. So you were a little surprised by his remark, but not enough for it to be too striking.

"You might've seen me on his team," you said, pointing with your chin at your boyfriend, who you hoped wasn't terrorising the newcomers too much.

You tried to refocus on Miguel's speech. Your relationship with him was not public; you had agreed that, for the time being, you would prefer to keep it a secret. There were several reasons for this, such as the fact that you might be seen as a spider with more privileges than the others - which wasn't the case - or the fact that you simply wanted to avoid trouble. This lack of information didn't stop Peter from coming back for a chat.

"So... what's your name ?"

You didn't even look at him, simply giving him your name and alias.

"And you're a new Peter," you sighed.

"You never get enough Peters, am I right?" he smiled, "although I'm obviously unique in my own way.

"Unique?" you smiled with a little chuckle, "how?", because Peters looked and acted the same, they were after all Peters, so you wondered how he would stand out.

"Like this," he approached you, tucking his fingers behind your ear and bringing his hand into your field of vision so that you could see a little flower between his fingers.

You gave a little laugh, taking the flower in your hand. It was soft, light and smelled wonderful.

"A Peter magician?" you pouted, shaking your head, "that's progress."

Miguel was going over the formalities of multidimensional cells when his gaze inevitably drifted to you. But he froze, tensing up as his eyes took in the little scene unfolding nearby.

You, against a wall, an ordinary Peter caressing your ear to perform a crummy magic trick and make a flower come out of it. Too close... he thought, he was too close to you. He didn't appreciate the proximity with which he approached you. Of course, the other team-mates in his squad could allow themselves to be close to you, whether you were in their arms or whatever, but for one of the countless Peters here to allow himself to be at your level? That he could not condone.

He saw a small smile forming on your face, his blood boiling. Wasn't he good enough for you? Was it because he didn't give you enough affection that you let any spider approach you? Or was it that he didn't do you enough favours, like performing magic tricks?

But Miguel was so good to you, it was almost impossible to get out of his arms when he hugged you. He gave you everything he could give you, even loving you to the point of giving you the last empanada left in the cafeteria if there was only one left, no matter how much he wanted it, and that's how passionate he was about you.

So maybe... you didn't realise that Peter was flirting with you?

Ah, maybe that was it, maybe you were just oblivious to what the nerd was trying to do?

And the Peter took another step.

That one step was too much.

"Well, you've got most of the information. We're going to cut this meeting short, you can all go." he warned, teeth clenched.

The elite team itself looked surprised as all the other Spiderpersons scattered to leave the room.

"Miguel? Is there something wrong ?" asked Peter B, concerned that perhaps the reason everyone had just been dismissed was because of something he had received from Lyla that was important.

But his eyes were riveted like arrows ready to be shot at the Peter who was still chatting to you.

"I just have to take care of a little problem," his eyebrows were furrowed, jaw tight.

Peter B's eyes drifted back to where his were, letting out a quiet "Oh" before calling the rest of the team and persuading them to come with him to... whatever it was for, as long as the elite were leaving too.

"And so you caught three anomalies in a single mission?" said Peter, absolutely amazed by the feats you were telling him about.

"Yes, it's becoming routine," you confirmed.

You noticed the room beginning to empty, and deduced that the meeting must have ended.

"I'm so happy that there are Spiderwomen around, and as competent as you are," continued Peter, chatting to you, "especially when I see that they're as beautiful as you are."

"That's very kind of you," you say simply, "the meeting's just finished, I think you'd better leave before you get your knuckles rapped."

Advice from someone with a very strict boyfriend on organisation, you thought.

"Could we meet again? How about the cafeteria?" he offered.

"That's very nice of you to suggest, but-" you bit the inside of your cheek as he cut you off.

"Oh, or maybe the park? I hear there's an ice-cream parlour that sells ice-creams in our likeness." he laughed softly.

"Would you look at that."

You swallow, his voice was strained and falsely interested, your eyes landing on Miguel who'd just arrived near you.

It's almost comical how tall Miguel was compared to him, towering over him in both mass and size to the point where he could crush him like a tin can.

"Oh Miguel O'Hara-" greeted Peter as if nothing had happened.

"I've never seen you here before," Miguel remarked, a vicious flash in his eyes.

He intended to take great pleasure in showing how much better he was than Peter, and above all in making sure he understood that you weren't interested in his advances.

"Oh yes sir, I'm Peter," he said.

"How original," said Miguel in a honeyed, falsely curious tone, glancing at you.

"The Peters must be the best for there to be so many of them," laughed Peter, and you felt like pinching the bridge of your nose.

"I see them more as a weed that hangs around," he said, looking into poor Peter's eyes, Miguel looming over him.

"Well, I think you should join the other Spiderpersons," you simply breathed with a polite smile.

"Yeah um," he swallowed, lowering his eyes from Miguel's to meet yours, he was appalled. "I'll see you sometime maybe ?"

"Never," Miguel decided.

Peter took a few steps backwards, unable to say anything else, and headed for the exit.

"You look upset, what's wrong?" you asked as Miguel headed for the control platform.

"I see you made a new friend?" asked Miguel, his eyes locking onto you with a dark gleam as he stepped onto the platform.

"Not really," you replied, your voice a little smaller as you in turn joined him on it, coming to sit on one of the desks.

"What did he want?" he asked, his tone insistent as he looked at you, standing and taking a step forward.

"Nothing special, he wanted to get acquainted," you said softly as he took a step forward, his eyes gleaming strangely.

"Just getting to know each other?" he said, arriving just in front of you and placing his two hands on either side of your thighs, tilting his head to the side, questioningly. "You're naive if you think he just wants to be your friend."

His face was close to yours, his whole body almost covering you, leaving you unable to move or get away. Your eyes locked with his a little more, and you understood, a small smile forming on your lips.

You put your hand on his cheek, and he pressed against your touch.

"Do I detect some jealousy there?"

He sighed, his jaw contracting slightly, his tongue creating a tent in his cheek. You raised an eyebrow - was Miguel jealous?

His hand came to brush against your thigh, his fingers moving up until they settled and gripped you, pulling you towards him with this simple grip until your noses touched.

"I didn't like very much how he was so close to you," he admitted, his lips brushing yours.

He came to kiss you, demanding, his lips pressing almost brutally against yours as his other hand came to rest on the small of your back, the latter pressing to bring you closer to him.

You tried to respond to his kiss, his lips and jaw so strong that you felt he was going to engulf you.

He came and kissed your neck, a small sigh of comfort coming from between your lips, which were puffed out and moistened by his kiss.

"You know," you said softly as your fingers ran through his hair, "he never stood a chance against... you right ?"

The statement made his ego swell, as if a huge weight had just been lifted from his shoulders and he felt so light. His lips tenderly kissed your neck, and you felt it.

He sucked at your skin, marking it delicately. He needed, needed the others to know that you had someone. And although you both wanted what you had to be private, he had a terrible desire for people to know that you belonged to him, and not just anyone. He came back to your lips.

"Say that you're mine."

He had to hear it, from your lips that were full of him. You moistened them with a flick of your tongue, his eyes attentive, dark.

"I'm yours," you affirmed softly.

He came to kiss you again, pulling away from your lips to let his fall on your cheek.

"Make me believe it," he said, drunk on your skin. "Say that again."

His kisses covered your skin, wanting to coat it entirely with his lips so that he didn't miss any part of it.

"I'm yours," you whispered, drowning in his adoration as your fingers caressed his cheek.

"Again," he whispered as his lips kissed your eyelid.

"I'm yours," you whispered, your other hand coming around his chest to bring him closer to you.

"Again..." his voice was barely audible, kissing the tip of your nose.

Of course you were his, everything already belonged to him. Did he want your heart? It was full of him. Did he want your thoughts? He had replaced every one of your ideas. Did he want all of you? He would only have a body and a soul that was already attached to him.

When his lips returned to yours, it was you who kissed him, and he melted under the sensation of your lips on his.

"I'm yours."

Your eyes gazed at each other, each living in the other, and he wrapped his arms around you, pressing you hard against him, closing his eyes to enjoy the moment.

He wouldn't let any weeds near his flower.

[sunnyrisee]

Message In A Bottle — Bang Chan

pairing : idol! bang chan x fem! reader

genre : angst with fluff ending, childhood friends to lovers.

summary : you've been loving chan for as long as you can remember, but sadly, he was clueless. you bottled up all your feelings into notes, each folded into different shapes, hoping that one day you could give this bottle of emotions to him.

word count : 3,605

author's note : this is my first time writing on tumblr. also, inspired by fyp on tiktok (i honestly forgot the username). lastly, i apologize if there are any mistakes.

You loved him from the very beginning.

You've been there for him since childhood, watching him grow from a nobody into someone cherished by millions.

Years passed, and your bond with Chan only grew stronger. You were his best friend, his confidante, the one who always believed in him, even when no one else did. You were the one who gently rubbed circles on his back when the sad days overwhelmed him, dropping everything just to see Chan again and bring a smile to his face.

He only let you wrap your arms around him, only you play with his hair, only you caress his cheeks and wipe away his tears. You were his safe haven, his source of comfort in the storm.

It's always like that.

The day Stray Kids debuted was the happiest day of his life. And yours too, because you knew how much it meant to him. You stood in the crowd, tears streaming down your face, as you watched him light up the stage.

As the group gained popularity and recognition, that's when the distance between the two of you started to widen. It wasn't his fault; you understood the demands of his career.

Shouldn't you be happy for his success? Shouldn't you be proud of him? He had waited for this day to come, years of training and sacrifices finally paying off.

Thankfully, he still visits your apartment sometimes, though not as often as before. Back then, you used to talk about everything under the sun with him. Now, it's just a brief hello followed by a bitter goodbye that stings your heart.

As night fell, you found yourself flipping through your old photo album. There were pictures of little Chan and you, captured in moments of pure happiness, building sandcastles, watching sunsets, and running around together, laughing without a care in the world.

You look at your phone and see a message from Chan. You hate the way he can make your heart flutter and a warm feeling spread across your cheeks.

Somehow, a twinge of jealousy crept in. There were countless stunning idols who could easily catch his eye. You scrutinized yourself in the mirror, painfully aware of your differences.

You were just you, not like them—plain, ordinary, and feeling hopelessly inadequate.

But you tried to think positively, reminding yourself to wait for your turn. Chan had always told you to trust your heart and be patient. However, why did you feel such a tightness in your chest, as if tears were threatening to spill?

You sit there clutching your shirt, feeling the intense moment pierce your heart open. You don't know her, but all you can see is her slowly taking your place. It feels like you're watching your own nightmare unfold. God, she's more beautiful than you.

You try not to think of it, but each passing moment makes it harder to ignore. The way they laugh together, and the way Chan gently tucks her hair behind her ear, hurts you more than ever before. It's the same thing he used to do when you were studying hard for exams, a gesture that once brought you comfort and now only brings pain.

Once again, you try to hold back your tears that threaten to spill. You hide it quite well, but little did you know, Felix observed the way you shifted and how you looked away from the scene. He's the only one who knows about your feelings for Chan. He wants to approach you, but you slowly get up, ready to leave before anyone notices your teary eyes.

You hate seeing yourself this vulnerable. No, you've never felt this weak before.

You take your bag and pull out a bottle filled with paper folded into cute shapes. Each one contains messages you've been writing for Chan for all these years. It's your secret way of expressing yourself when words fail you, something Chan has never known about. You took out a small piece of paper and wrote one more message before you left. As you penned the words, you finally let your tears fall freely. You could only hear your painful sobs as you folded the paper into a heart shape.

'For My Channie'

You felt a hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch slightly. Turning around, you saw the freckled boy with a big smile on his face.

"I made brownies, you know?" Felix grinned. "Thanks to your help that day, I finally didn't burn the kitchen down again."

His warm smile always melted your heart. Felix felt like a little brother to you. Whenever Chan wasn't around, he would check on you, asking if you had eaten or if you were okay. As soon as he saw the tear stains on your cheeks, he understood how much pain you were in. He had never seen you like this before.

"T-Thanks, Lix." You choked out, wiping away your tears. Felix then told you to wait as he quickly packed some of the brownies just for you.

"Here." He said gently, handing you a small package. His caring eyes met yours, offering a small glimmer of comfort in your moment of sorrow. You bowed to him gratefully and whispered a small thank you.

"Felix, could you give this bottle to Chan when he's alone?" You asked, handing him the bottle filled with paper folded into various shapes, each containing a message inside. He was confused at first, but then he nodded understandingly. Giving you a thumbs up, you quietly slipped away, hoping your message would reach Chan and convey everything your heart couldn't say aloud.

You looked at them for one last time, hoping that Chan would notice your absence. But he didn't seem to realize, continuing to talk and laugh with her. He looked so happy, so clearly in love. You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the ache of everything weighing heavily on you. You slowly shut your eyes, trying not to care about what was happening.

As you arrived home, you burst into your bedroom, collapsing onto your bed. The floodgates opened, and you cried uncontrollably, your sobs echoing through the empty room. The pain and loneliness consumed you, each tear a testament to the heartache you had been holding back for so long. Your chest heaved with every breath, the weight of your unspoken feelings pressing down on you. It felt like your heart was breaking all over again, and the tears seemed endless, soaking your pillow as you cried yourself into exhaustion.

"He doesn't care. He never did. Why would you fall for him, Y/n?" You whispered to yourself through your tears. "You should know better... He's an idol now."

You continued to cry as you gathered all the things that reminded you of him and put them into a box. You weren't going to throw them away; you just needed to put them out of sight so you could try to move on.

"Why did I let myself fall for you? And even make you my home... A home I can never get into... Despite knowing every corner of it's well..." You murmured softly, your voice cracking with emotion as you reflected on the depth of your feelings.

As the day went on, you focused on your job as a doctor, dedicating yourself wholeheartedly to helping others, much like Felix. Despite your busy shift, thoughts of Chan lingered in your mind. During breaks, you checked your messages, hoping for a notification from him, but there was nothing.

Why couldn't you just forget about him?

When you finally returned home, a message from him awaited you. He asked about your day and more, and you found yourself staring at the screen, unsure of how to react. Frozen in place, you felt a wave of mixed emotions wash over you, leaving you at a loss for what to do next.

Isn't this what you wanted? Why do you feel so afraid now, when it's finally happening? The conflicting emotions swirl within you, uncertainty clouding your heart despite longing for this moment.

A month without your calls, messages, and silly pick-up lines. Chan hated to admit that he missed your presence. He tried to reach out, asking how you were, if you had eaten, or if he could come to your apartment. However, every time he asked, you always had plenty of excuses.

It's like you're avoiding him.

"Hyung, after Y/n left the party that night, she gave me this. She said it's for you. I don't know, hyung, but when she left... I could tell she was holding back her tears." Felix handed Chan the bottle, and Chan took it, his brow furrowing in confusion. He turned it over in his hands, trying to understand its significance.

You're sad? Why didn't you tell him? What could have possibly made you this upset?

The bottle was from the time you were both still in high school. You both went to a park on a sunny afternoon, exploring a quaint antique truck that had caught your eye. Among them was a small, intricately designed bottle that had caught Y/n's attention. Chan had secretly bought it for you, knowing how much you admired it.

Now, clutching the same bottle in his hands, Chan wondered why Y/n had entrusted it to Felix. His mind raced with questions.

Felix observed Chan closely, hoping that he would finally realize your true feelings. Chan, however, seemed completely clueless.

Chan worked tirelessly until night fell, consumed with stress over the new song. His mind raced with thoughts, unable to focus. As he trailed off, lost in his thoughts, he noticed a little note peeking out from between the folded papers inside the bottle. He noticed that the bottle wasn't just filled with paper shapes.

He picked up one that was shaped like a star and carefully unfolded it.

"Today is Chan's first audition. I hope Chan gets it. He's been working hard for it."

A smile slowly spread across Chan's face as he read the note. His eyes softened with warmth, and a hint of nostalgia flickered in them. He took another paper shape, and carefully unfolded it.

"They finally get a first win! I'm so proud of them!"

He stifled a laugh as he remembered how the kids had cried when they were announced as the winners.

"Channie wants to buy a present for his parents. I'm going to save some money to help him :)"

The note revealed your thoughtful plan to assist Chan with buying a gift for his parents. He soon recalled his savings, surprised to realize that you had helped him accumulate them. That's when he took out all the notes and read through each one carefully. He noticed how the words became more emotional.

"Someday, I want to know not only the colors of you eyes but also the colors of your dreams."

"I told my family and friends to support Chan and all the StrayKids members. They need more recognition!"

"Happiness is when I am excited to meet you and you're excited to meet me too."

"It's your first time on stage, I can't believe how far you've come."

"Your eyes are the warmest place in the world even when I'm looking at them under the coldest rain."

"I hope my Channie is surrounded by people who care and love him. He deserves so much love."

"Don't you ever forget, your authenticity, the real you is more beautiful than all the well-received, striking, scenic facades in this world combined."

"You look tired these days. I hope you get much rest. Don't be such a workaholic, dumbass!"

"How's Korea? You look happier there. Glad to see you with that big smile. Well, I'm still studying here :D"

"When I'm by your side, it's like all of my fears, worries and anxieties melt away thanks to your warm presence."

"No one knows how to ignite the fire in my heart the way you do."

"Channie, I finally became a doctor. I kept my promise, and you are the first person I told :]"

"I'm so in love with you, Chan. In an instant, I knew what I felt. In a brief moment, I knew exactly that you were the one."

Chan read every single one of your notes, tears streaming down his face as he realized how clueless he had been all these years about your feelings. His smile faded as he remembered everything you had done for him—the way you dropped everything just to be there for him, always making time to listen to his thoughts and talk about seemingly unimportant things.

After all this time, you always there for him. His mind slowly repeating all the memories he have with you.

He thought of her long hair, cascading down her back like a silken waterfall. He could almost feel its softness, the way it slipped through his fingers. He remembered her soft smile, the one that could light up even his darkest days, a smile so pure and genuine that it made his heart swell with love.

Her beautiful features danced in his mind's eye, the curve of her lips, the sparkle in her eyes, the way she looked at him as if he were her whole world. He missed the sound of her laughter, the warmth of her embrace, the way she would nuzzle into his chest and sigh contentedly.

How could he have been so clueless?

There was one last paper shaped like a heart. As Chan examined it, he realized that the last paper was a bit messy. He softly opened it, his hands trembling slightly.

"And you know what? The reason why I kept holding on was, I always thought that perhaps, you were waiting for me, too..."

That was the last message. His tears, already streaming down, turned into uncontrollable sobs. How could he have been so oblivious? He cried out loud, unable to believe how foolish he had been. Chan clutched the heart-shaped paper to his chest, memories flooding his mind. The weight of his realization bore down on him, crushing his heart with the knowledge of what could have been.

Now, he couldn't think of anyone else he wanted to spend his life with. It has always been you.

A memory flashed in his mind of how deeply you cared for him, the only one who truly understood him, and the one who had always been there for him through thick and thin.

Felix stood in the doorway, watching Chan break down, his own heart aching for both of you. He had always known about your feelings, had seen the way you looked at Chan, the way you lit up whenever he was around. Now, seeing Chan's reaction, he hoped his friend would finally understand the depth of your love.

He quietly stepped in, placing a comforting hand on Chan's shoulder as he looked up at the younger boy.

"It's been a month, hyung. Do you know that she watched you, in pain, getting close to that girl?" He murmured softly. He described how tears welled up in your eyes as you witnessed Chan caress the girl's hair. Chan's expression crumbled as he absorbed Felix's words, the weight of your unspoken pain settling heavily on his heart. He hadn't realized how much his actions had hurt you until now, and the regret gnawed at him.

"Yah! Are you trying to age yourself prematurely? Stop working so hard, it's showing!"

He stood up abruptly, determination replacing the sorrow on his face. He had to find you, to tell you that he finally understood, that he felt the same way. He couldn't let you slip away, not after everything. Chan grabbed his coat and headed to the door, leaving Felix standing silently. He couldn't shake the image of your tear-filled eyes and the pain he had caused you.

As he was on his way, traffic came to a standstill, and he cursed under his breath. Why was the world moving so slowly for him now? Was this some kind of punishment?

"I've been exhausted lately, pulling night shifts. The chilly nights only seem to make it worse."

As he drove to the hospital, memories of you filled his mind. He recalled the times you had mentioned how hard you worked, often taking night shifts at the hospital. He could feel the cold breeze seeping through, making him shiver. He cursed himself for telling you that you would survive and everything was fine.

He swore that even he might catch a cold from the frigid breeze.

With each breath turning to mist in the cold air, Chan hurried into the hospital. He sprinted through the corridors, regret pushing him forward, and discovered you in the break room, exhausted after a long shift.

"It would mean a lot if you knew that while you're caught up in your own world, you know I'm working just as hard."

It all became clear to him. All those times you talked about your work—the stress you faced, the small victories you cherished, and how you always tried to keep things positive despite your tiredness.

He watched from outside the door, and for the first time in his life, he was captivated by your beauty. Your hair, casually pulled into a ponytail, draped over your shoulders in flowing waves, emphasizing your effortless allure. The calming rhythm of your breath and the tranquil elegance of your sleeping pose created a breathtaking vision that left him awestruck.

"Apologies for not messaging you. Whenever I get exhausted, I crash in the break room."

The moment you opened your eyes, Chan's concerned face came into view, his expression a silent plea for forgiveness.

"Chris? W-What are you doing here?" You asked, trying to mask the hurt and confusion in your voice.

Chris—the government nickname you never use. Just hearing it made his heart ache, a painful reminder of the distance and misunderstandings between you.

Is this what you've been feeling all along?

He was lost in his own thoughts for several minutes before he managed to find an answer. He couldn't tear his eyes away from you. He felt an overwhelming urge to hold you close, to kiss you, but the words caught in his throat.

"I'm an idiot, Y/n. I only focused on my own life and goals while y-you were there watching and supporting me. I didn't see what was right in front of me all along. I didn't see how important you were until now. I'm sorry it t-took me this amount of time to truly understand your feelings..." Chan explained, his voice trembling.

"The truth, Y/n, is that I love you. It took me a long time to unravel the depths of my own heart. You're the missing piece that completes and brings together my scattered, disordered, and messy life... Baby, I'm gonna feel bad for myself if I never had a chance of knowing you in this, o-or any other lifetime. At the end of a challenging day, I just want to come home to your peaceful presence, rest my head on your stomach, and share all the day's burdens with you." He spoke, his voice breaking with emotion.

Tears filled your eyes as you looked at him, the sincerity and desperation in his voice breaking down the walls you had built around your heart.

"And, Y/n. Yes, I've been w-waiting for you too, love." Chan said, his voice trembling, as tears cascaded down his cheeks. He stepped forward, pulling you into his arms.

You held him close as he cried on your shoulder, his sobs shaking his entire body. You whispered comforting words, gently rubbing his back, trying to soothe his anguish. His tears soaked through your shirt, but you didn't mind.

"Shh, it's okay, Chan. I'm here." You murmured softly. His grip on you tightened, as if he feared you might disappear if he let go.

"I'm so sorry, b-baby. I should have seen how much you were hurting. I love you so much, love. Please, forgive me..." He choked out between sobs, his voice filled with regret and pain. You shushed him gently, your fingers running through his hair.

"I love you too, Channie. I will always love you. A thousand year from now, I will still love you like I did a thousand years before." You comforted him, and he sought your warmth, clinging to you tightly.

Chan looked closely into your eyes, cupping your cheek and gently drawing your lips to his. He slowly pressed his lips to yours, in a kiss that spoke of deep passion, tender affection, and a softness that made your heart flutter. Time seemed to stand still, every second stretching into an eternity as you both lost yourselves in the moment.

You both gently pulled away as your eyes meeting in a moment of shared understanding. A smile blossomed on your lips, reflecting the warmth.

"The search is over. Amongst the loneliness of the universe, I've finally found you."

[donttxtathebeach]

Forever & a Day| chapter 15 : before the sun

word count 11.4k (grammerly premium has become my favorte thing because when im in the zone i fear grammer is the leastr of my worries.

warnings: angst a lot of it. jelosuy( mostly insecurity and fear of loosing someone)

summary

a journey of childhood friends, fame, love, and rediscovery. when both of their worlds colliding once more, Y/N and Drew learn to navigate the delicate space between their shared past and their very different presents. Will their love withstand the pressures of fame, distance, and time? Or will they find that some things are better left in the past? Follow along as Y/N and Drew embark on a journey of growth, understanding, and the complexities of love.

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Y/N sits by her window, the faint hum of New York City filtering through the night. The skyline stretches endlessly in front of her, a vast sea of lights and life, yet she feels strangely disconnected. She stares at the towering buildings, their windows glowing like small beacons in the dark, yet none feels like they belong to her. The city is alive, always moving, constantly pulsing with energy, but she feels like an outsider looking in for the first time in years. Her once-familiar place in the center seems far away, like a dream she can’t quite remember.

The wind brushes against her skin, calm and almost indifferent, as it slips through the cracks of the window, ruffling her hair. It’s the only thing that feels real—like it’s moving, too, not stuck in time the way she feels. She doesn’t know when she started to feel this way when the excitement of it all—the lights, chaos, and constant motion—began to lose its pull. But tonight, it’s like everything presses down on her all at once. The success, the recognition, the glamorous life—none of it means anything when she feels so empty inside.

She’s used to being in the center of everything. From a young age, she’s been the one people gravitate toward—the supermodel who’s graced countless runways, starred in high-fashion campaigns, and built a name synonymous with grace and poise. It’s been years of flashing cameras, magazine covers, and standing ovations, each cementing her place in the world.

People call her lucky, blessed even, and on the outside, she is. She has everything they think she could want—a career that most women would envy, fan adoration, and a life that seems to glitter with opportunity. Yet, as she sits here in her luxury apartment, with the vast cityscape stretching out in front of her, Y/N can’t shake the feeling that she’s become a stranger to herself. The person everyone sees—the confident, collected woman on the red carpet—feels like a façade now, something she’s been playing for too long. Inside, she feels lost, untethered from the very thing she’s built her life around.

The last few months have been more complex than she’s willing to admit. The distance between her and Drew has been growing, and as much as she’s tried to ignore it, she can’t anymore. Drew. She lets out a long, slow breath, her gaze unfocused as she watches the lights blink in the distance. He’s been away filming Hellraiser in Serbia for weeks now, and even though she’s been busy traveling for shoots and campaigns herself, the absence of his presence in her life has been undeniable.

But that’s not the worst of it.

What’s been gnawing at her, keeping her up at night, is how much closer Drew seems to get to Odessa Akzion, his co-star. It’s subtle how he talks about her—how her name slips from his lips with that same warmth he used to reserve for Y/N. His voice softens when he talks about their scenes together, how much they’re “getting along,” and how “easy it is to work with her.” Y/N hears the difference in his tone and feels the weight of his words settle into her chest like a stone. It’s nothing overt, nothing she could point to and say; this is the moment I knew something had changed, but it's there, lingering in the space between them. And it eats at her.

She doesn’t want to acknowledge the ache in her chest or admit it even to herself. She’s never been the type to get caught up in jealousy. After all, she’s built a life where she controls everything. She's learned to compartmentalize her emotions, to keep her personal life private, and her professional life soaring. But with Drew, it’s different.

He’s not just her boyfriend—he’s the one person who’s always made her feel like she could breathe easily. He’s the one person who has always seen her—seen her—beyond the glossy images and the designer clothes. When they’re together, she doesn’t have to be the woman the world expects her to be. She can just be Y/N.

But lately, Y/N can feel that sense of calm slipping away with how he's been talking about Odessa. The air between them has thickened, becoming suffocating. The conversations they used to have—light and easy, filled with shared jokes and the comfort of knowing each other’s thoughts before they were even spoken—are now strained. She can feel the distance, like an invisible thread slowly pulling them apart, no matter how much she tries to ignore it.

And that’s the part that hurts the most—the helplessness. The feeling that no matter how hard she tries to hold on, the more she pulls, the more she feels them slipping through her fingers.

Her phone buzzes on the table, the screen lighting up with Drew’s name. A wave of emotion rushes over her—guilt, longing, uncertainty—and she considers not answering for a moment. It would be easier. She’s been avoiding his calls for a few days now, and every time the phone rang, the weight of the conversation loomed. Deep down, she knew that talking to him now would only make the distance between them more real. But she can’t avoid him forever. She doesn’t want to.

Not because she doesn’t love him—she does, more than she’s ever loved anyone—but because every time they talk, it feels like the distance grows a little more. Every word and pause feels like it’s amplifying the gap between them, and she doesn’t know how to fix it.

Taking a deep breath, she picks up the phone and swipes to answer. Her heart is racing in her chest, her palms slightly clammy as she grips the device. She glances out the window one last time; the city lights no longer offer the comfort they once did. It’s a fleeting thought she quickly pushes aside as she forces herself to focus.

“Hey,” she says, her voice steady, the words slipping out with practiced ease, as though everything is perfectly normal. As though nothing has changed. Her heart is pounding, but her voice betrays none of it. She’s learned to keep calm and sound composed even when she feels anything but.

“Hey, babe,” Drew’s voice greets her, warm and familiar, but there’s an undertone to it now—a hint of something Y/N can’t quite place, a subtle tension that wasn’t there before. It’s the same but different, like a familiar melody played in a new key. “How are you?”

The question is simple, but Y/N can hear the concern beneath it, the way he’s searching for something—perhaps a sign that she’s still the same and okay. She wants to tell him she’s okay and that everything’s fine, but the truth is, she doesn’t know what “fine” even means anymore. She feels like a part of her is slipping away, like the person she used to be—the confident woman who never doubted herself—has been replaced by something fragile, something uncertain.

“I’m fine,” she replies, trying to keep things light, her voice lacking the warmth it used to carry when they spoke. She forces a smile, even though he can’t see it. She knows it’s not entirely true, but it’s what she’s always said. “Busy, you know? New York doesn’t slow down.” She lets out a small laugh, trying to mask the strain in her voice, but it’s barely there. It doesn’t feel right. The words feel hollow, empty in her mouth.

She wants to say more, to explain that it’s not the city that’s getting to her, that it’s not just the workload that’s draining her, but the weight of their relationship—the quiet distance that’s become unbearable. But she doesn’t. Instead, she pivots, asking the question plaguing her thoughts. “How’s Serbia?” she asks, her tone casual, though she’s bracing herself for the answer.

Drew’s response is slow as if he’s weighing his words carefully. “It’s… fine,” he says, his voice quieter now and more reflective. “It’s been intense. We’re in the final stretch of filming, and things are moving fast. Odessa and I… we’ve been working a lot together. It’s been great, though.”

The mention of Odessa comes out with that soft edge, and despite herself, Y/N feels a sharp sting in her chest. She can almost hear the shift in his voice, how it softens when he says her name, how the words linger in a way they never used to when he talked about other people. It’s so subtle that Y/N wonders if he even realizes it himself. Y/N forces herself to smile, but the familiar ache begins to surface inside. Drew and Odessa have spent so much time together lately. He talks about her often, almost as if it’s natural. Y/N can hear the difference in his tone when he mentions her—excitement there, an energy she hasn’t heard when he talks about their time together. The way he speaks of her—bright, almost reverent—hits her like a cold wave.

She swallows hard, trying to keep her voice steady, even as her insides tighten. The smile she’s been forcing falters, and she quickly brushes away the thought of it, focusing instead on the conversation. “Sounds great,” she says, her words coming out softer than she intended, almost whispering. But it’s the only thing she can manage right now.

The distance between them—so vast, so palpable—feels like it’s closing in, wrapping itself around her chest, suffocating her. She wants to say more but doesn’t know what to say. The words that feel true are the ones she’s been avoiding: that things aren’t acceptable, that the connection she once had with him feels fractured, splintered beyond repair. But she can’t say that—not yet.

And so, she holds her breath, letting the silence fill the spaces between them.

Y/N tries to focus on the soft hum of the conversation, but her mind keeps drifting back to that one name: Odessa. What is it about her that has Drew so captivated? She can’t help but imagine their late-night rehearsals, the way their chemistry on-screen might translate into something off-screen. Y/N can’t deny it—there’s a pang of jealousy she hasn’t allowed herself to feel before. She’s always been secure in their relationship and confident in their bond, but something about Drew’s recent words makes her uncertain.

Her gaze drops to her hands, and for a long moment, she stares at how her fingers rest against her phone. The delicate, polished nails that have graced countless magazine covers feel foreign now—just another piece of the person she used to be. She used to feel so confident in her skin and powerful when she held a camera’s gaze, but tonight, all that feels like an illusion. Her fingers tremble slightly, betraying the calmness she’s trying to project. She inhales deeply, the air heavy in her chest, trying to gather the words she knows she has to say.

She feels the weight of them—each one pressing down on her chest, forming an invisible knot in her throat. She has to ask. She has to know if things are changing if Drew's heart has already shifted, or if she's just being irrational. It’s hard to pinpoint when it all started to feel different, but it has. The subtle distance between them, the late nights, and the whispered conversations about Odessa all add up, and she can’t ignore it any longer.

She’s always been poised, a woman who could command a room with grace, her composure never faltering, no matter the storm brewing inside her. But that calm seems to be slipping through her fingers like sand in a windstorm tonight. This is different. Her usual defense mechanisms—the practiced smiles, the perfect silences, the feigned indifference—aren’t working this time. The vulnerability she’s spent so long hiding is flooding her, threatening to spill over.

For the first time in a long while, Y/N feels like she’s losing control. And in this moment, she knows there’s no avoiding what’s been festering between them—no more pretending that everything is fine. The quiet doubts, the late-night questioning, the subtle shift in Drew’s attention—it’s all here now, plain and painful. She’s done keeping her fears locked away. She’s done pretending that the space between them doesn’t exist, that she’s not drowning in the silence where words used to fill their days.

Tonight, her heart speaks louder than her polished exterior. She opens her mouth, but the words catch, tangled with the weight of everything unsaid.

“Drew, I don’t mean to sound jealous,” she starts, her voice steady but her heart pounding. The words feel too raw as if they’re carving their way out of her, unfiltered. “I’m just… I can’t help but feel like suddenly I’m not a constant in your life anymore. Like I’ve been replaced by something or someone else.”

She swallows hard, the tightness in her throat making it difficult to keep her voice from cracking. Her chest aches with the weight of her unspoken fears—the insecurities she’s never had to face before, at least not with him. It’s Odessa; she knows that much. How Drew’s spoken of her recently—so casually, so quickly—has planted a seed of doubt in her heart. It’s the way his eyes light up when he talks about her, the genuine excitement in his voice, the subtle shifts in his attention when her name comes up. Y/N isn’t stupid. She can feel it. And the uncertainty that’s been creeping in for weeks now threatens to suffocate her.

“And if that’s what’s happening…” She takes a deep breath, her words coming slower now, like each one is a small confession she’s afraid to make. “Please, let it end before I break my heart fighting for someone who let me go a while ago.”

Her voice wavers as she finishes the sentence, the full weight of her vulnerability sinking in. This is the hardest thing she’s ever had to say. Every syllable feels like it’s being ripped from her chest, each word heavier than the last. But a part of her knows this is the only way to get through to him, the only way to find some clarity.

The silence stretches out, long and suffocating. Drew doesn’t respond immediately, and Y/N feels the weight of that silence settle over her like a blanket she can’t shake off. Her heart races as she waits for him to speak, her mind spinning with every possible outcome. Has she said too much? Will he tell her that he feels the same, that they’re just in a rough patch, or will he admit that maybe, just maybe, things have already started to slip away?

Her grip on the phone tightens as the silence continues, each passing second dragging her deeper into her doubts. This moment feels like a tipping point, where everything will either fall apart or be pulled back together.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says suddenly, her voice quieter now but full of a rawness she can’t hide. She can almost hear him on the other end of the line—can picture him running his hands through his hair, his face furrowed with confusion, maybe even pain. She can hear the unspoken questions in the silence that’s stretching between them. She doesn’t want to listen to them. She doesn’t want to see that look in his eyes—the look that’s torn between love and uncertainty.

“I don’t want to see that look on your face like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” she continues, her words cutting through the tension that’s thickening with every passing second. “I need to know if this is real, Drew. Suppose you’re still in this, or if it’s time to stop pretending we are.”  

Her heart is in her throat now, the fear of losing him bubbling up in a way she hasn’t allowed herself to feel before. She needs answers. She needs him to stop dancing around the truth and stop hiding behind empty promises and vague reassurances. She needs to know if he still sees her the way he used to—if he still sees her as the woman he’s fighting for, the woman who has stood by him, even when the world’s been pulling them in different directions.  

The call is still. And Y/N can feel the heaviness of Drew’s silence as if the weight of the world is on him. She wants to pull him back to her, to tell him that she’s here, that she’ll always be here if he needs her. But something inside her tells her that if they don’t face the truth now, they never will.

“Baby…” Drew’s voice cracks, and the sound rips through her. The weight of it is like a blow to her chest, sharp and accurate. She feels it deep in her bones, as if every ounce of his vulnerability is seeping through the line. Her throat tightens, and she closes her eyes, trying to fight back the tears that are threatening to spill.

“Drew, I…” She swallows hard, but the words he says next make it clear that the battle is already lost. His voice is soft strained, like he’s been holding something in for far too long. “I think right now maybe we need to just… shit, I don’t know.”

Y/N feels her heartache in a way she’s never known before. She’s always prided herself on keeping her composure, always keeping it together, even in the most overwhelming moments. But this… this is different. The raw pain in his voice makes her feel more fragile than she ever thought possible.

She wants to reach through the phone and wrap herself around him. She wants to tell him everything will be okay and that they’ll figure this out, but the truth is, she doesn’t know if they will. There’s so much between them now. There is so much unspoken, so much that’s shifted under the surface, and she can feel it all pressing against her chest.

“I think maybe it’s best if we decide to give each other that space,” she says quietly, her voice softer now but steady—calm on the outside, even though inside, she feels like she’s breaking apart. “Our lives are pulling us in different directions right now, and I get it, Drew. I really do.”

Her hands clench around the phone, the cool glass grounding her in the moment, reminding her that she has to stay strong. She takes a steadying breath and continues, “My career’s at its peak right now. I don’t know how much I can give you or how much I have left to offer in the way you need me to.” The words taste bitter as they leave her lips. She hates them. He hates the idea that she’s admitting the truth—that she can’t be there for him in the way she wants, in the way he deserves.

“And you…” She pauses, feeling a pang deep in her chest. “You’re finally getting that big break you’ve wanted, Drew. The one you’ve been working for. I can see it in your eyes. You’re finally getting what you’ve dreamed of, and I… I don’t want to be the one who holds you back or drags you along, pretending like I can keep up.” Her voice falters slightly, but she pushes through it. “I can’t keep pretending, Drew.”

The words hang in the air between them, heavy and final, and Y/N isn’t sure if they’re the right ones. They taste like surrender, like giving up, but at the same time, they feel like a release. She’s been holding on for so long, but she can feel herself slipping. And though her heartaches, there’s a small part of her that knows—deep down—that this is what they both need. Space to grow, space to breathe.

But even as she says it, a part of her wonders if she’s making the biggest mistake of her life. Can they really go on from here? Can they really be okay? The uncertainty gnaws at her, but she can’t keep pretending that things haven’t changed.

There’s a long silence on the other end, and Drew doesn’t speak at first. Y/N’s breath catches in her throat. She holds it, waiting. She wants to know if he’ll say something—anything—but when he finally does speak, it’s a whisper. Soft, almost pleading.

“Please… don’t finish that sentence,” he says, his voice shaking with emotion. “I don’t want to let you go.”

Her heart stutters at his words, a jolt of pain making her stomach twist. She can hear the desperation in his voice, and it’s almost more than she can bear. She wants to tell him that she feels the same, that she doesn’t want to let him go either, that she loves him, and that the thought of losing him scares her more than anything else in the world. But as much as she wants to say it, she knows deep down that they’re not the same people they were when they first met. Things have changed.

The space between them has grown too broad and is no longer just physical. It’s emotional, deeper, and more difficult to bridge. And that scares her because even as she loves him and her heart screams to stay, she knows they both need time. It's time to figure out who they are when they’re apart, time to see if they can come back to each other or if they’ve already grown too far apart.

“This isn’t goodbye, Drew,” she says, her voice quieter now, steady, but with an undercurrent of sorrow that she can’t hide. She’s not sure if it’s more for him or for herself. “It’s just… simply… see you later.”

Her voice trembles as she speaks, and she hates how fragile it sounds. She's always been the one to hold everything together, to glide through the chaos with poise and grace, never letting anyone see the cracks beneath the surface. But right now, as she stands on the edge of this conversation, everything feels like it's unraveling. The weight of it—the pain, the loss, the distance that’s grown between them—presses down on her chest, making it harder to breathe.

She can’t escape the feeling that they’re both on completely different paths now. Drew's been sprinting ahead, leaving her in the dust, moving so fast she can barely keep track of him. And her? She feels like she’s been walking in circles, stuck in a place that she can't escape, no matter how hard she tries. It’s like she’s been running laps around the memories of them, watching everything pass her by while he’s already miles ahead, his life already moving on without her.

She’s trying to catch up, to close the distance, but every step she takes feels slower than the last. And somewhere, in the quiet of her mind, she wonders if maybe this is how things were always meant to be—if perhaps she was always going to be the one who stayed behind, watching him move forward. The thought breaks her heart, but she can’t ignore it.

"You’re racing ahead while I’m still walking these laps,Everything passes me by, one step at a time.You’ve been moving on so fast,And I’m just trying to catch my breath, trying to find my way."

Her hands tremble slightly, betraying the calm she’s desperately trying to maintain. She presses the phone tighter against her ear, but the silence that hangs between them feels deafening. She can hear the shallow sound of his breath on the other side, and it makes her heart ache even more. His pain is so palpable it’s almost suffocating. She knows he’s hurting, too—that much is evident from the tightness in his voice when he speaks.

“I don’t want to lose you, Y/N,” Drew’s voice cracks, the words coming out low and raw, as if he’s barely holding it together. “I don’t want to lose us.”

And at that moment, she felt everything. The weight of the years they've spent together, the memories that fill every corner of her mind, all the love that has held them together despite the cracks forming between them. She feels it all—the longing, the ache, the desire to fix everything and make it right. But she knows, deep down, that this is the only way they can move forward. She can’t keep pretending that everything is fine. It’s not okay. They’re not OK.

Her chest tightens as she swallows the lump in her throat, forcing her voice to stay steady even though it feels like her entire world is falling apart. “Don’t hear what I’m not saying, Drew,” she whispers, her words deliberate, each one heavy with meaning. “I don’t want to lose you either. But we can’t keep living in this moment, pretending like we’re the same people we used to be. We need space. We need time to figure out who we are without each other. I can’t be the person you want me to be, and you can’t be who I need you to be, not right now.”

The silence stretches between them again, thick and suffocating. She can feel the distance widening, like an invisible gulf that neither of them knows how to cross. She wonders if they ever will.

“I’ll always love you, Y/N,” Drew’s voice breaks through the stillness, so quiet now that it’s almost a whisper. “Always. You’ll always be a part of me.”

The words hit her like a wave, crashing over her and leaving her gasping for air. She feels everything—the love, the heartbreak, the finality of it all—and for a moment, she almost caves. She wants to tell him she’s sorry, to beg him to stay, to find a way to make it work. But deep down, she knows they’re too far gone. There’s no more running back to the way things were. They’ve already crossed that line, and all they can do now is move forward separately.

“I know,” she replies softly, the words barely above a whisper, but they carry all the weight of everything unsaid between them. Blinking back the tears, she’s not sure she can hold back much longer. “And I’ll always love you, too. But for now, we need this. We need time. Maybe when the time is right, we’ll find our way back to each other. But right now… we need to grow apart. Just for a while.”

Her voice falters, but she doesn’t stop. She can’t stop now. This is the hardest thing she’s ever had to do, but it’s the right thing for both of them. They can’t keep pretending that everything’s fine when it’s not. They need to figure out who they are and who they can be—whether that’s together or apart.

The line goes quiet, and she can feel the finality of it settling over them. She can almost hear the weight of his heartbreak, just as hers is. And in that silence, she wonders if they’ll ever find their way back to each other. But for now, there’s nothing more to say. She’s done running the race, done trying to catch up to him. She’s going to let the flowers grow for a while, give herself the space to breathe, to heal.

She takes a deep breath, wiping away the tears that have started to fall. She’s not sure what comes next. She’s not sure if they’ll ever be the same. But one thing is clear—this isn’t the end. It’s just the beginning of something new. Something they both need.

She turns off the phone, standing up to face the city that never sleeps.

Maybe, just maybe, when the time’s right, they’ll cross paths again. But not tonight. Tonight, they need to stop running.

Y/N’s steps are heavy as she enters Hailey’s apartment, the familiar soft click of the door echoing in the stillness. The moment she crosses the threshold, it feels as though the weight of the world has followed her inside. The space, usually a warm refuge from the chaos of her life, feels foreign today. The usual comfort of Hailey’s apartment—the soft, muted colors, the gentle lighting, the scent of lavender and vanilla that always seems to calm her racing thoughts—doesn’t have the same soothing effect. Instead, everything seems distant and colder. The walls feel like they’re closing in around her, and she wonders if she’ll ever feel at home here again.

Her heart is a storm of emotions, a turbulent swirl of confusion, guilt, sadness, and exhaustion. The ache in her chest is like an open wound, raw and painful, and it seems to expand with every passing moment. She feels every single step as if it’s an effort to move through quicksand, each one pulling her deeper into the heaviness of what she’s just left behind. The thought of Drew—of everything they were—echoes in her mind, the image of his face, the sound of his voice, the feeling of his touch, now all tainted by the space between them. No matter how hard she tries to silence it, the grief bubbles up, pressing against her chest.

Hailey’s apartment has always been a sanctuary—a place Y/N has always sought solace in, a reprieve from the whirlwind of her own life. It’s the one place where she can let down her guard, where she can be herself without the need for the carefully constructed façade she wears every day. But today, it’s not the comforting embrace she’s used to. It feels like a distant memory, something she once knew but now finds herself disconnected from. She barely registers the sleek modern furniture in the living room, the polished glass coffee table, and the carefully curated bookshelves filled with novels and art books that always seem to reflect Hailey’s taste and attention to detail. The oversized couch, with its perfectly arranged throw pillows, usually makes her feel at home—but now, it’s all a blur, fading into the background. Everything is out of focus, just like her thoughts. She can’t even focus on the things that once brought her comfort because they all feel so far removed from the chaos swirling inside her.

She knows that she’s not just leaving Drew behind. As she steps further into the apartment, a wave of realization crashes over her: in many ways, she feels like she’s losing herself, too. She’s not the woman she was a few months ago, the woman who felt in control of her life. Now, she feels adrift, caught between two worlds, unsure of which one she even belongs to anymore.

Hailey is sitting on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her and a half-empty cup of coffee in front of her. Her focus is on her phone, her fingers scrolling absentmindedly through whatever has caught her attention. But the moment the door creaks open, she looks up. Her eyes immediately fall on Y/N, and the lighthearted expression that had been on her face falters the second she sees the expression on Y/N’s. Her smile slips away, replaced by a look of concern that runs deep, the kind only a true friend can offer.

Hailey’s eyes soften in an instant, and a motherly concern rises in her as she stands up quickly, her movements fluid but careful, like she doesn’t want to overwhelm Y/N with her presence but knows she has to do something. She crosses the room in two long strides, her feet silent on the hardwood floor. “Y/N…” she says, her voice dropping a few tones, the softness and warmth in her words doing nothing to ease the tight knot that has formed in Y/N’s chest. It’s the way she says her name—so gentle, so full of understanding—that makes Y/N’s heart ache even more.

Without another word, Hailey steps closer, her brow furrowing with worry as she takes in Y/N’s tear-streaked face, her shoulders trembling ever so slightly. Y/N can feel the weight of her concern, but all it does is make the lump in her throat grow even more significant. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Y/N doesn’t answer right away. She stands frozen for a beat, her chest tight, every part of her unwilling to let the words spill out. It’s like there’s a wall inside her, something preventing her from sharing what’s weighing so heavily on her heart. She’s not sure if she’s trying to hold herself together or if she just can’t bring herself to say it aloud. The silence stretches on, thick and suffocating, until finally, it’s the tears that speak for her. They begin to fall slowly, as if hesitant at first, but then they come in a rush, pouring down her cheeks in a silent flood. The sobs wracked her body, shaking her to the core as everything she’d been holding back came pouring out.

She can’t control it. She doesn’t want to prevent it. She feels like she’s drowning in her own emotions, and for the first time in a long while, she’s allowing herself to feel it all—the regret, the fear, the heartache. The dam she’s built up over the past few hours has cracked, and there’s no stopping it now.

Hailey doesn’t hesitate. She moves quickly, and there is a sense of urgency in her steps. Gently but firmly, she guides Y/N to the couch, urging her to sit, her hands steady on Y/N’s shoulders. Hailey doesn’t say a word at first; she simply sits beside her and places her arm around Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her into the kind of embrace that only a true friend can offer. It’s the kind of embrace that says everything without needing to speak. Y/N leans into it, feeling the familiar warmth of Hailey’s presence, but even as she closes her eyes and lets herself melt into the comfort, it doesn’t soothe the ache in her chest. Nothing can.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, where only the faint sounds of the city outside seem to echo in the background, Y/N finally speaks. Her voice is trembling as she chokes on her words, each one slipping out like a painful confession. “Hailey… I ended things with Drew.” The words are hard to form like they’re stuck in her throat, and as they spill out, their weight crashes over her. She swipes at her eyes, but the tears keep coming, uncontrollable now. “I… I didn’t want to, but I had to. I just… I don’t know what to do now. I feel so lost.”

Hailey’s face shifts from concern to empathy, her expression softening even further as she hears the pain in Y/N’s voice. She squeezes Y/N’s shoulder gently, a silent reassurance. “Oh, babe,” she says softly, her voice full of tenderness. “I’m so sorry. You two… you always seemed so happy together. What happened? I thought you were in such a good place.”

Y/N wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, her fingers trembling, but it doesn’t help. She’s still broken, still fractured by the decision she’s made, by the reality of the situation. She takes a shaky breath, trying to find the words to explain everything—the confusion, the feelings that have been building inside her, the slow unraveling of everything she thought was solid. “I’m not mad at Odessa, not in the slightest. She’s really a sweet person. But… I just feel like I’m losing everything, Hailey. Like I’m the one standing in the way of his future, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to make it right. I never meant to come off jealous, never wanted to feel like I was competing. It’s just… it’s the little things, you know? The moments I used to share with him—those little wins he’d tell me about, the way he’d get so excited to share his life with me. Now, it’s all so distant. I’m here, chasing my own dreams, and he’s out there chasing his, and I’m not part of that anymore.”

Y/N pauses, struggling to steady her breath. The words are all jumbled now, tangled together like a knot in her chest. She rubs her temples, her fingers pressing against the pressure building behind her eyes. “I just wish I could be there for him more. But now I feel so selfish because I feel like I’m choosing my career over the love of my life. I feel like I’m abandoning him like I’m walking away from the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Hailey listens carefully, her heart aching as she watches Y/N struggle with the conflict inside her. She’s known Y/N for years—through the highs and the lows, through the times when everything seemed perfect, and the times when it all fell apart. She knows her friend knows how hard this decision must have been for her. “I know it feels that way,” Hailey says quietly, her voice soft but steady. Her hand gently squeezes Y/N’s, a reassurance that she’s not alone. “But you’re not selfish for wanting to build your own future. I can’t even imagine how hard it must have been to make that decision. But it sounds like you knew, deep down, that it wasn’t working., not because of anything you did but because the two of you are just on different paths right now. It’s not the end of the world, though. You’re not choosing between your career and love. You’re trying to give yourself space to grow, too.”

Y/N’s chest tightens as she listens, but the uncertainty still gnaws at her. She rubs at her eyes, wiping away the tears that haven’t stopped flowing. “I don’t feel like I’m growing, Hailey. I just feel… empty, like this huge part of me is missing. He was my best friend, Hailey. My person. And now… now it feels like I’m just… nothing. Like I’m floating.”

Hailey pulls Y/N into a hug, wrapping her arms around her tightly, her own eyes brimming with unshed tears as she watches her friend break down. “You’re not nothing, Y/N. You’re so much more than a relationship; you know that. You’re strong, and you’ve built an incredible life for yourself. It doesn’t make this pain go away, but it doesn’t mean you’re alone, either. Drew loves you; I know he does. But sometimes love is about letting go, giving the other person the space they need to grow, even if it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done.”

Y/N’s head drops onto Hailey’s shoulder, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I can live with this decision. I don’t know if I can ever be okay with it.”

Hailey exhales slowly, her fingers brushing through Y/N’s hair as she speaks. “Babe, you don’t have to have it all figured out right now. It’s okay to feel broken. It’s okay to not know how to move forward. But I promise you, you’ll get through this. You’re so much stronger than you realize. Don’t rush yourself to heal. It’ll take time, and that’s okay. Just take it one day at a time.”

Y/N nods, her face still wet with tears as she wipes them away. She looks at Hailey, her eyes filled with vulnerability. “I just… I just don’t want him to forget about me. I don’t want to lose him completely.”

Hailey holds her gaze firmly, her expression reassuring. “You won’t lose him, Y/N. Not if it’s meant to be. You have to trust that. Love, like what you had with him, doesn’t just disappear. If it’s real, it will come back. It might take time, but you won’t lose him forever.”

Y/N manages a small smile; the ache is still present but somehow a little more bearable. “I hope so,” she murmurs, a quiet optimism flickering in her heart.

Hailey gives her a playful nudge, trying to lighten the mood. “Alright, enough of the sad stuff. Go take a long, hot shower, and I’ll come by tomorrow with your favorite takeout and wine. You deserve a night where you don’t think about anything except relaxing.”

Y/N lets out a small laugh; the sound is soft and fragile, but it’s there. “That sounds perfect. Thank you, Hailey. I really needed this.”

Hailey smiles warmly, squeezing her hand. “I know, girl. I know. I’ve got you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Y/N enters her apartment with a deep sigh, her tired eyes scanning the empty space that once felt like a sanctuary but now feels like a cold, hollow shell. The weight of the day presses down on her, and she feels the exhaustion seep into her bones. She doesn’t have the energy to even turn on the lights, so she simply makes her way through the darkened apartment, relying on the soft glow from the streetlights outside.

The city hums around her—distant voices, the occasional honk of a horn—but inside, it’s like the world has gone quiet. All that remains is the soft rustle of her footsteps against the wooden floor and the quiet thrum of her heartbeat. The emptiness is palpable, and Drew's absence is more noticeable now that she’s returned home alone. She didn’t think the space would feel so vast without him, but it does. It’s like all the life she once felt in the apartment has been drained out.

She moves to the kitchen, mindlessly pulling out a bottle of wine, the red liquid swirling in the glass as she stares at it. It’s been a long, emotional day. A hard day. A day that felt like it stretched on forever, filled with painful realizations, tears, and the weight of decisions that had been building up for months. But no matter how much time passes, nothing seems to make it easier. She still feels that same ache, the one that sits heavy in her chest, and she doesn’t know how to shake it.

Her phone buzzes, pulling her from her thoughts. She almost ignores it, but then she sees the name on the screen. Sofia Richie.

Y/N’s heart skips a beat. Sofia. Her best friend. The one person she always turns to in moments of doubt. She hesitates for a second, wondering if she’s ready to talk about everything, but then she answers, knowing that Sofia deserves to hear from her.

"Hey, Sof," Y/N says, her voice quiet, almost timid.

"Y/N," Sofia’s voice comes through, filled with warmth, but there’s an undercurrent of something else—something Y/N can’t quite place, but it’s there. It makes her stomach twist because she knows that tone too well. "So, umm, as your best friend, I’m a little hurt that you didn’t come to me first. You could’ve called me, you know. I would’ve been there for you. I always am."

Y/N freezes for a moment. Her chest tightens as the words settle in. Hurt. Sofia’s hurt. The realization hits harder than she expected. She never wanted to hurt Sofia, never wanted to make her feel left out, but the truth is… she did. And now, it stings.

“I… I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me right now,” Y/N says, her voice cracking slightly. “I thought you had enough on your plate with planning the wedding and everything. I didn’t want to burden you, Sof. I didn’t want to make you deal with my mess when you’ve got so much going on.”

Sofia’s silence is heavy, and for a moment, Y/N can’t tell what she’s thinking. The quiet stretches on, thick with unspoken words. Finally, Sofia responds, her voice softer now but still carrying a layer of sadness.

“Y/N… you’re my best friend. My sister. And that means that your mess is my mess, you know that? I know I’ve been busy with the wedding and all that, but nothing could ever make me too busy to be there for you. Not with something as big as this. I just… I feel like I should’ve been the first person you reached out to, not Hailey. I’m here, babe. I always am. And I want to be there for you when things are hard.”

Y/N’s heart aches as she hears the disappointment in Sofia’s words. Sofia’s always been the one who understood her without explanation, who knew when something was wrong even before she said it out loud. And here, she feels like she’s let her down. She never wanted Sofia to feel like she wasn’t enough like she didn’t matter in those moments when she needed to talk.

“I’m so sorry, Sof,” Y/N whispers, guilt washing over her. “I didn’t mean to shut you out. I just… I thought I could handle it. I thought I could figure everything out on my own. But now it feels like everything is falling apart, and I didn’t know how to ask for help.”

Sofia exhales deeply, a soft breath through the phone that tells Y/N she’s processing her words. “I get it, Y/N,” she says, her voice a little more composed now. “But you don’t have to do it alone. You know that, right? I don’t care how crazy my life gets; you’re always a priority for me. I want to help you through this, not just when things are easy but when things are messy. Especially when things are messy.”

Y/N’s hands tremble slightly as she holds the phone to her ear. She feels a lump in her throat that she doesn’t know how to swallow. Messy. That’s exactly how she feels. Messy, broken, unsure. She doesn’t even know where to begin to fix herself. But Sofia, as always, has a way of making her feel like she’s not beyond repair.

“I should’ve come to you first. I know that now,” Y/N admits, the words almost painful to say. “But I guess I didn’t want to feel like I was dragging you down with me. You’ve been so focused on your wedding, Sof, and I didn’t want to be that friend who always has problems.”

Sofia’s voice softens, and Y/N can almost imagine her shaking her head, even though she can’t see her. “Stop, Y/N. You’re not dragging me down. You never have been. You’re my best friend, and I want to be there for you, especially when you need me most. So please, don’t ever feel like you’re a burden.”

The words hit Y/N harder than she expected, and she took a slow breath, trying to steady herself. Sofia is the one person who’s always made her feel seen, understood, and accepted for exactly who she is. To hear that she still wants to be there for her, even after everything, means more than she can express in words.

“I just… I don’t know what to do now,” Y/N says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I ended things with Drew, Sof. And I don’t even know if it was the right choice. It feels like I’ve lost everything. Him. Us. And now I don’t know where I fit into my own life anymore.”

Sofia’s voice becomes more serious now, a steadying force that wraps around Y/N like a comforting hug. “I know it feels impossible right now. But you’re not lost, Y/N. You might feel like you are, but you’re not. You’re strong, and I’ve seen you handle so much in your life. This is just another chapter. It’s going to be tough, and you’re going to feel broken for a while. But eventually, you’ll find yourself again. You’ll find your way. And when you do, I’ll be here, just like I’ve always been.”

Y/N closes her eyes as Sofia’s words sink in, the weight of them settling in her chest. The ache is still there, raw and unrelenting, but Sofia’s voice, filled with love and reassurance, gives her something to hold onto. Maybe it’s okay to feel lost for a while. Perhaps it’s OK not to have all the answers.

“I’m really sorry, Sof,” Y/N says again, feeling the depth of her regret. “I should’ve been better about reaching out. I promise I won’t do that again. I’ll come to you, no matter what.”

Sofia’s voice lightens slightly, and Y/N can almost hear the smile in her words. “It’s okay, Y/N. You’re going through a lot, and I get that. But next time, don’t wait. I want to be your first call, not your last. And I’m always here for you. Always.”

Y/N lets out a shaky breath, feeling some of the tension in her body at ease. “Thank you, Sof. I really needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, babe,” Sofia replies, her tone soft but firm. “And when you’re ready, we’ll get through this together. But right now, just take care of yourself. You’ve got this.”

Y/N smiles faintly, the tears still threatening to spill, but somehow, at this moment, feeling a little less overwhelmed. “Thanks, Sof. I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N. Don’t forget that.”

As the call ends, Y/N leans back on the couch, her phone resting in her hand. For the first time all day, she allows herself to close her eyes, letting the weight of everything she’s been holding onto drift slightly out of her mind.

The quiet hum of the city below is a stark contrast to the storm raging inside Drew. Standing at the window of his hotel in Serbia, he gazes out over the empty streets stretching into the unknown, his eyes unfocused. The world outside feels as distant and detached as the emotions swirling within him. The weight of his decision presses heavily on his chest, suffocating him in a way that the thick silence of his hotel room cannot. The bustling city below, with its lives and its movement, seems so far removed from the stillness of his heart.

His fingers grip his phone tightly as if it’s the only thing anchoring him to reality amidst the chaos of his emotions. He glances down at the bright screen in the dim room, the light casting an ethereal glow over his tired face. The decision he and Y/N made earlier feels like it happened a lifetime ago, yet it’s so raw, so fresh, still lingering like an open wound. The buzzing of his phone feels like an intrusive reminder of how much is out of his control right now.

Drew hesitates before pressing the call button. His finger hovers over the screen, unsure. The voice of his mom, the woman who’s known him his entire life, seems like the only source of comfort right now—someone who wouldn’t judge him, who wouldn’t make him feel like the weight of this breakup is all his fault, even though a small part of him believes that it is. After a long moment, he presses the button, and the phone rings in the quiet room.

The sound of the ringing fills the empty spaces of his mind, drowning out the constant swirl of guilt, regret, and sadness that has consumed him since the moment he said goodbye to Y/N. He waits, feeling time stretch out endlessly until, finally, her voice comes through on the other end of the line. It’s a familiar comfort, a warm hug through the phone.

“Hey, sweetheart. How’s it going? You okay?” His mom’s voice is warm and soothing, the kind that always seemed to bring him peace, even when the world felt like it was falling apart. It’s like a lifeline, pulling him back from the edge of his emotions.

Drew swallows hard, his throat tight. He rubs his forehead with the heel of his hand, trying to force back the overwhelming exhaustion of the day—the heaviness of it all. His mind feels like a jumbled mess of words, feelings, and regrets. The weight of everything—his career, the band, his relationship with Y/N—feels like a mountain pressing down on him. His breath comes out in uneven gasps, and he’s not sure if it’s from exhaustion or the surge of emotions crashing through him.

“Mom,” he starts, his voice hoarse and raw. “I… I ended things with Y/N.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, both a confession and a confession of defeat. Drew closes his eyes, trying to block out the flood of emotions that immediately rush in at the sound of them. His chest feels hollow like he’s already lost something too precious to get back.

There’s a long, telling pause on the other end of the line. Drew can almost hear his mom’s thoughts racing as she processes the gravity of his words. His heart beats so loudly in his chest he thinks it might drown out the sound of her response. Then, at last, her voice fills the silence—soft, gentle, but laced with concern.

“Oh, baby,” she says, and Drew can hear the pain in her voice, even though she’s trying to keep it steady. “I’m so sorry. I know how much she meant to you. What happened?”

Drew leans back against the cold hotel wall, the hard surface pressing into his spine like a reminder of how everything feels out of place. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets the exhaustion settle into his bones. He rubs his hands over his face, trying to calm himself. He needs to explain, but it’s hard to make sense of the storm inside him, let alone put it into words.

“It wasn’t anything she did, Mom. It was me.” His voice cracks slightly, and he can feel the tightness in his throat, the overwhelming sadness threatening to break through. “I got so caught up in everything—Hellraiser, the band, my career—and I know it hurt her. I could feel her pulling away. I know she felt me doing the same thing. We were just… drifting. We were so different. She wanted more, and I couldn’t give it to her. I tried, but I couldn’t keep pretending like everything was fine when I knew we were both losing each other.”

The words feel foreign, almost like someone else is speaking them for him, and yet they’re his, his painful reality. His voice catches on the last sentence, and he rubs his face again, unable to stop the flow of emotion. He clears his throat and takes a shaky breath. “I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t fix it.”

He pauses, lost in the memory of her face, of the way she looked at him when they made the decision. The love, the sadness, the understanding. It was too much, and yet not enough to keep them together.

“There’s something about the way she handled everything with so much grace,” Drew continues quietly, his voice filled with both admiration and deep regret. “She never once made me feel like I was doing something wrong. She… always put my best interests before her own. That’s why I love her, you know? I’ve never met anyone who loved me like she did. I feel like I failed her in every way possible.” His voice wavers, the guilt heavy in every word. “But she would never say that. She’s just not like that. She’d never make me feel like I was the problem.”

His mom’s sigh comes through softly on the other end of the phone, and Drew can almost picture her shaking her head, knowing exactly what he’s feeling but refusing to let him drown in it. Her voice is steady but filled with insight when she speaks again.

“Honey,” she says gently, her words warm and reassuring, like a balm to his soul. “I think she was really trying to put your best interests before her own. The way that girl loves you—it has so much depth. There’s a power to that love that most people can’t even comprehend. She’s someone who’s willing to let go if it means you can find your way, and that’s something rare. She’s not giving up on you, Drew. She’s giving you the space to be who you need to be.”

Drew’s eyes close, a heavy tear slipping down his cheek, and he lets the words settle into his chest. His mom’s words are comforting, but they don’t change the fact that he feels like he’s lost everything.

“And that’s a kind of love that not many people can truly understand. The magnitude and the extent of that love?” His mom continues, her voice unwavering. “It’s immeasurable.”

A bitter laugh escapes Drew’s lips, one that sounds hollow even to him. “I miss her so much, Mom. I miss everything about her—the way she looks at me like I’m the only person in the room, the way her laugh fills the spaces we’re in. I miss the way she’d always pushed me to be better, to be more than I thought I could be. I’ve messed everything up.”

His mom listens, patient and understanding. She doesn’t interrupt, allowing him to speak his truth freely. After a long pause, when Drew feels like he’s emptied himself of everything he could say, she finally responds, her voice calm but filled with wisdom.

“Sweetheart,” she begins, her tone firm but gentle. “Sometimes love isn’t enough to make two lives fit together. You and Y/N, you’re both strong, driven people. But you’re on different paths right now, and that’s okay. Sometimes, no matter how much you care for someone, your lives just don’t align in the way you want them to. And that’s not a reflection of the love you share; it’s just the reality of where you both are in life.”

Drew’s chest tightens at her words, the weight of them sinking in. The truth of it is undeniable, but it doesn’t make the pain any easier to bear. “It doesn’t feel okay, Mom. I don’t know how to live without her. I don’t know how to fix this. I feel like I’ve lost everything.”

His mom’s voice softens, her love flowing through the words. “Drew, you didn’t mess it up. You did what you thought was right. I know it’s painful, but sometimes love means letting go. It means giving the other person the space they need to grow, even if that means stepping away for a while. And if you really love her, you have to let her go. Trust that, when the time is right, you’ll find your way back to each other.”

The words are a balm to his soul, but a deep frustration still churns in his chest. “I don’t know if I can do that, though,” he admits quietly, the sadness creeping into his voice. “I just want to hold her again, tell her I’m sorry, and that I’ll fix everything. But I can’t do that from here. I can’t fix it if I’m not there with her.”

“I know, baby,” his mom says softly, a note of tenderness and understanding in her voice. “But the hardest thing is letting go. It’s giving the other person room to breathe. If it’s meant to be, you’ll find your way back. You don’t have to force it, Drew. You can’t force love.”

Her words hang in the air, both a release and a heavyweight, and Drew feels the tension in his body loosen just a little.

“I hope you’re right, Mom. I really do.” His voice is soft, but he clings to her words, even if they don’t entirely take away the ache.

“I am, sweetheart,” she replies firmly, her voice full of conviction. “But in the meantime, you have to take care of yourself too. You can’t pour from an empty cup. Don’t forget that.”

Drew exhales deeply, his body relaxing just slightly. “I’ll try, Mom. I really will. Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

“I’m always here for you, Drew,” she says, her voice full of unwavering love. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m just a phone call away, always.”

“I love you, Mom,” Drew says quietly, his heart aching, but his thoughts finally feel like they’re beginning to make sense.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Always,” she responds, her voice steady and sure.

As he hangs up, Drew leans back against the wall, the phone pressed to his chest, feeling the weight of the conversation lingers. His mind turns back to Y/N, and the empty space between them feels more vast than ever. And yet, in the midst of it all, there’s a tiny flicker of hope—because maybe, just maybe, love, in all its painful beauty, will find its way back to them.

After hanging up with his mom, Drew stares at the cold, blank wall in front of him, feeling the weight of his emotions grow heavier. The silence in his hotel room feels oppressive, almost suffocating, and no matter how much he tries to push it away, the pain of the breakup is there, lingering in every corner of the space. It’s a silence filled with the echo of the decision he made—a decision that, even now, feels too raw and too big for him to fully process.

His fingers trace the edge of his phone absentmindedly. Drew knows what he needs. He needs to talk. He needs someone who won’t judge him, someone who gets it. Someone who can offer a sense of clarity amidst the chaos in his head. Jonathan Davis. His Outer Banks costar. He is one of his closest friends and, at this moment, his voice of reason.

Jonathan is more than just a friend—he’s been Drew’s rock. The person who’s offered advice when things felt tangled, who listened without judgment when Drew’s world fell apart. And Drew knows, without a doubt, that if anyone can make him see this situation clearly, it’s Jonathan.

Drew taps the screen, scrolling until he finds Jonathan’s name. His thumb hovers over the call button for a moment, and a tight knot forms in his chest. What does he even say? How does he even begin to explain the mess his life has become in the last few days?

Finally, he hits the button. The phone rings, and Drew closes his eyes, willing himself to keep it together. Jonathan picks up after a few moments, his voice warm and steady.

“Yo, what’s up, man?” Jonathan greets, a slight hint of concern creeping into his voice. Drew knows that Jonathan can sense when something’s off, and right now, Drew feels like everything is off.

“Hey, Jon,” Drew replies, his voice sounding much smaller than he intended. He leans against the wall, pressing his palm to his forehead, trying to gather his thoughts. The words come out slow, deliberate as if he’s saying them for the first time. “Y/N and I broke up.”

There’s a long pause on the other end. Drew can feel Jonathan processing it, trying to absorb the magnitude of the words. Jonathan doesn’t rush to speak, which is precisely what Drew needs. He doesn’t need sympathy or pity. He just needs someone to listen.

“Shit,” Jonathan finally says, his tone shifting to something softer. “I’m sorry, bro. I really am. I know how much she meant to you. You two were… good, you know?”

“Yeah,” Drew murmurs. He sinks down onto the bed, running a hand over his face. “I thought we were. I thought I was doing the right thing, but... everything feels wrong now.” His voice cracks, and he lets the vulnerability show for the first time since the breakup. “I don’t know if I did the right thing, Jon. I can’t stop second-guessing myself.”

Jonathan’s voice is calm and steady. “Dude, it’s okay. It’s okay to feel like that. You made a tough call. Sometimes, doing what’s best for both people means stepping away. But it doesn’t make it any easier, right?”

Drew exhales slowly, the weight of his decision hitting him again. “Yeah, but it wasn’t her. It was me. I just… I got so caught up in everything else—Hellraiser, the band, all of it—and I could feel us drifting. I could feel her pulling away. And I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to fix it. And now... now I feel like I’ve lost her for good.”

Jonathan’s voice softens like a soothing balm on Drew’s raw, exposed emotions. “You haven’t lost her, man. Not if you’re both meant to be. I know everything’s falling apart, but trust me, you’re not alone in this. I’m here, you know that.”

Drew lets out a shaky laugh, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease just a little. “Yeah, I know you are, man. I’m glad I called you. But it’s hard, Jon. It’s like... I know what she needs, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. I miss her. I miss how she’d always look at me like I was the only person in the world. I miss her laugh. I miss everything. And now I feel like I ruined it all.”

Jonathan’s response is quiet but unwavering. “Drew, you’re not the only one hurting. She’s probably feeling the same way. And yeah, maybe things didn’t work out this time, but it doesn’t mean it’s the end. Relationships are messy. People change. But it doesn’t mean you’ve failed her. And it doesn’t mean you don’t love her. You have to give each other space to grow, even if that means letting go for a while.”

Drew closes his eyes, taking in Jonathan’s words. It’s hard to accept, but Jonathan has always been the one to cut through the noise and make him see things. He’s always been that voice of reason, his solace when everything else feels overwhelming.

“I don’t know, man,” Drew says quietly, his voice laced with doubt. “It’s just so hard to let go. I feel like I’ve lost everything. I don’t even know who I am without her.”

Jonathan lets the silence sit between them for a moment, and then he speaks, his voice steady and full of conviction. “Sometimes, Drew, love means letting go. It means stepping away so you can both find yourselves. I know you don’t want to hear that right now, but I’m telling you, if you’re meant to be with her, you’ll find your way back. But you can’t force it. You can’t force love. If you love her, you’ll give her the space she needs. And you’ll give yourself the space to figure out what you need, too.”

Drew leans back against the bed, the weight of Jonathan’s words settling in. He knows Jonathan’s right. He just hates that it feels like everything is out of his control. “I hope you’re right, Jon. I do.”

“I am,” Jonathan says firmly, and Drew can hear the certainty in his voice. “I’ve seen you two together. I know the love you had. And that doesn’t just disappear overnight. But right now, you’ve got to focus on yourself too. Figure out who you are without her for a little while. It’s not about forgetting her or moving on. It’s about finding your footing again. And that takes time.”

Drew feels the tiniest shift in his chest, like a crack in the storm raging inside him. He can’t fix everything. Not now, not yet. But maybe Jonathan’s right. Maybe he has to let things breathe. Perhaps the space will help them both find clarity.

“Thanks, Jon,” Drew says, his voice quiet but full of gratitude. “I needed to hear that. You’re the only one who can make me feel like maybe this isn’t the end.”

Jonathan lets out a small, knowing laugh. “Hey, I’m just doing my job, man. You know I’ve got your back. Always.”

Drew chuckles softly, even though it’s tinged with sadness. “Yeah, I know. I appreciate it more than you know.”

“You got it, bro,” Jonathan says with a light tone, but there’s still a depth to it. “Take care of yourself, alright? And remember, I’m just a phone call away. Anytime.”

“Yeah, I will,” Drew replies, his voice steadier now. “Thanks. Seriously.”

The call ends, but Drew doesn’t hang up right away. For a moment, he just sits there, processing everything Jonathan said. Drew knows he’s not going to figure it all out tonight. He knows the pain isn’t just going to disappear. But at least, for the first time in a while, he feels a sense of peace, a tiny flicker of hope amidst the uncertainty.

Jonathan keeps repeating: “If it’s meant to be, you’ll find your way back.”

[ghosts-bandwagon]

Songs from my playlists that represent how the 141 loves you (+bonus König)

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

“Wasteland” by Woodkid

Most of what I used to be had vanished in the waves/The memories of the boy I’ve been were drowning and you saved them/Now I remember the joy and the meaning of the fate/The color of the truth and the sound of sunny days

You have reminded him what it’s like be human again. When you look at him, he is Simon. He’s your Simon. He’s the man whose cheeks you’ve held countless times, kissing the corners of his eyes, tasting the paint on your lips but you couldn’t care less. Your small hands reach out time and time again and pull him back from the edge. And he’ll always take your hand, he might fight you at first, insistent that he’s too dangerous and that you’ll get hurt if you stay. But you always fight back. You’ll always fight your way back to him. You make him feel wanted, safe, human.

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

“Everlong” by The Foo Fighters

Breathe out/So I can breathe you in/Hold you in/And now/I know you've always been/Out of your head/Out of my head, I sang

He’s such a hopeless romantic. You became his entire world, the light in his eyes, and when you two first met it was like coming up for air after being submerged for so long. And he never wants to let you go, he feels like it’s always been you. You’re the mile marker along the highway of his life, there is a ‘before’ and then there is only a ‘with you’. Nothing is as good when he’s on his own, but with you? The sun’s out, the birds are singing their stupid songs, the flowers are in full bloom, and he can breathe again.

John Price:

“Thank You” by Dido

Push the door I’m home at last/I’m soaking through and through/Then you handed me a towel/And all I see is you/And even if my house falls down now/I wouldn’t have a clue/Because you’re near me

You’re his motivation. You’re what gets him through his long days. Knowing that there’s a home with you waiting for him is what pushes him. He has a picture of you in his wallet that he always looks at, and he’s so fucking tired but he keeps going for you. To see you, to hold you, to kiss you, to cherish you. And when he finally comes home, his bones each weighing a million pounds, and he sees you, it all just melts away. Nothing matters. He tunnel visions and it’s just you. There’s nothing happening outside these walls, it’s just you, and that’s all he needs.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick:

“Lose It” by Oh Wonder

Downtown we let it go/Sunset high and our bodies low/Blood rush in the hazy glow/My hands, your bones/Looser we break the scene/One step deep as you fall to me/Heart clap, we skip a beat/Count one, two, three

He’s the warmth that flows through your veins, he’s the sun that shines on your cheeks, he’s the rhythmic sound of cars driving on wet asphalt after a storm. And you? Sweetheart, you’re the twinkle of city lights on the skyline, you’re the sound of laughter from a couple caught in the rain, you’re the steady soothing rhythm of a love song. You’re his favorite song. He’ll always move to your beat, hands on your hips, forehead against yours.

König:

“Just the Two of Us” by Grover Washington Jr, Bill Whithers

I see the crystal raindrops fall/And the beauty of it all/Is when the sun comes shining through/To make those rainbows in my mind/When I think of you sometime/And I wanna spend some time with you

He’s so at home with you. When you’re together all his worries melt away. Every thought that gets overplayed in his head start to quiet down the closer he is to you. There’s no one he’d rather be with than you. There is literally no one else in the world. And when you’re sat between his legs, reclined against his chest watching a movie, his heart is drumming in his chest. Only it’s not an anxious beat, it’s a beat that plays for you. It’s a beat that knows you’re the most wonderful thing in his life. You’re the sip of cold water in the middle of the night when his nightmares rip him from his sleep, you’re kissing his sweaty forehead and reminding him that you’re here. That it’s just the two of you. And he’s at peace again.

[gmariam321]

So I binge-read my biggest Torchwood fic this weekend. I'm still cringing over some of my writing, but otherwise you know what? It was still pretty good, particularly with plot and character. I'm proud of what I accomplished with my beta, who helped hash out so much of it. We had such fun working together! There's nothing like coming up with crazy ideas and figuring out a way to actually make them work. I also really like some of my original characters. Kind of makes me wonder why I don't ever write original characters with an original plot, but then I remember they need an original world, and I like the ready-made fictional worlds I write fanfic for. I have no real desire to build my own.

Anyway, the story was an alternate version of Children of Earth. I came to Torchwood after the series was over, but I think CoE did well in the ratings, didn't it? I feel like it was generally well received . . . until it wasn't. Aside from the devastating death of Ianto, there are countless plot holes that I'm guessing fans really started picking part online and then thought, hmmm, maybe it's not so good after all. We got some great Janto pics and gifs but their actual moments on screen were not the moments they could have been, you know? (True story: I convinced my parents and brother to watch it with me after they gave it to me for Christmas and at the end my dad had no idea Jack and Ianto were a couple. I think my mom figured it out but my dad totally didn't see it because it just wasn't enough. I still want to know why they were so weird from the beginning. I'm trying to remember if I wrote a story about it now...) And then fanfic exploded and there are now countless versions that are just..better. Stories that fix the plot holes of CoE and give Jack and Ianto the moments they deserved.

Fanfic really took Torchwood and elevated it. Sure, we wrote lots of smut (tentacles, anyone?) but we also gave relationships the depth we rarely saw on screen. We explained how Jack and Ianto came to be, even through all the new Big Finish revelations. We gave them real moments (and not just smutty ones.) We made them mortal and immortal. We saved Ianto countless times and let them travel the galaxy. We gave Gwen actual consequences and growth and even made her and Ianto good friends. We took the potential of the show, of 31 episodes and a few Doctor Who crossovers (sorry, I'm not counting the fourth season since most fanfic is set before it) and explored it over and over, showing readers not only what TW was but could have been. We filled in the missing scenes, expanded it, even rewrote it. I wrote over a hundred fics and probably read ten times that. What an amazing thing!

I'm so glad I was a part of it and have both good memories and some good stories to look back on. ❤️

[4younotafool]

When I felt as if blood had drained from ‘my’ body, that is when ‘I’ returned my consciousness. 

“..it’s been so long since I could feel my fingertips like this..” I mumbled under my breath, being able to move and look at my fingers like this on my own will was almost foreign. 

How laughable, this was my body and yet my mind fully believes it has become ‘hers’. 

The moment I lost my brother from that unknown God as we tried to flee from this world’s destruction and lost consciousness– 

I awakened trapped in my own mind, while I had to painfully watch as an unfamiliar ‘me’ took over my own body. It was as if my entire being had been robbed of me. 

‘Give it back! That’s my body!’

‘Just what on earth are you doing! I have to find my brother! Give it back at once!’

Countless times I cried and screamed, almost hopeless. Realizing almost immediately that she couldn’t hear me or was even aware I was here. I was left all alone, void of controlling even myself in this dark space of our mind.

I’m not so sure how long anymore. I have lost count, it felt like I was here for eternity. I cursed everyone, Gods or whoever spirit had done this. I cursed them many times, even this soul who has taken over my own self. 

Being alone and helpless was something I was not familiar with, I thought never would have thought how loneliness could do to a person until now. 

I felt it here. And I had almost lost my mind.

But the moment I saw how ‘I’ cried. I felt her emotions flowing into me, her memories, her consciousness, her thoughts– 

‘I hope Lumine will reunite with her brother soon. I hope she’s okay’

I forgave her for taking over my body. The soul of the person who was worried for me. 

Because she promised with all her heart that she would find my brother. 

No matter what it takes, no matter how long it takes. 

And I believed She would do that for me, because I watched over her maneuvering an unfamiliar world, befriending anyone in her journey.

Even when She had to defeat a dragon or someone more powerful than Her, She would do whatever it takes if it means even a single clue where my brother is. 

I couldn’t help but love Her. 

I enjoyed every little thing She does, Her clumsiness, Her bashful side, Her stern attitude, Her stubborn actions. 

I loved Her all the same, and I know She does too. 

The little girl Lumine who was left alone, everything taken away from her, She made sure She will never exist in this world.

“I swear, I will make Lumine the happiest girl in the world!”

And She did. 

All I needed to truly feel happy, was basked in dazzling scenes of Her adventures in Teyvat. Even if it wasn’t ‘me’ who was in there, because the moments of when She is happy, are when my heart is full. 

When She said that she wanted to ‘see Lumine be happy’, I understood what She meant. 

Just seeing Her live happily, brought me more joy than anyone else. 

But, those happy times came to an end…

When ‘I’ suddenly returned. 

And She was nowhere to be found.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Fortuna: Chapter Five

Fortuna: Born with what seemed to be the worst luck in the world, you have managed to get into, and out of, life-threatening situations all your life. That is until the plague of 1514. You had escaped Mother Death countless times before, but not this time. Mother Death has taken a liking to you, and with your kindling relationship, you become that which historians whisper about. You are the great Fortuna, Goddess Incarnate of luck, and ruler over fortune and fate. No one could have anticipated what your ties with Death would bring you: Pain. Torture. Death. Love.

Warnings: Emotional Breakdown, That Scene, Blood, Murder, Gore, Death. 

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x ImmortalSpanish!Reader, Reader’s nickname is Fortuna. Fortuna is the Roman Goddess of personified luck and ruler over fortune and fate.

Word Count: ~2.0k

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1926

You were picking wildflowers in the field just past your village, placing them in the basket you had brought with you upon departing from your cottage. You had tulips, gladiolus, and lavender… at the moment you were picking honeysuckle. It smelled heavenly and brought a smile to your lips from the memories of your mother filling the cottage with bunches of sweet-smelling flowers. You placed the honeysuckle in your basket and rose to your feet, basket in hand. As you turned back towards the village, one of the little girls in the village ran up to you. Her face was dirty and her dress ripped, but the smile on her face shone so brightly it rivaled that light of the sun. Peering down at her, you raised your eyebrow. 

“Please tell me you weren’t roughhousing with the boys again, Sofía,” You chided her, eyeing the rips on her dress more closely. “You know your mother can’t keep sewing your kirtle back together, she struggles enough with your brothers outgrowing their clothing.” Sofía kicked out her barefoot and didn’t look the least apologetic. You took that as a yes, she had been roughhousing with the boys again, but the stubborn little girl was not going to apologize for it. She reminded you of yourself. 

“Alejandro and Javier said I couldn’t play with them because I wouldn’t be able to keep up… so I proved them wrong.” Ah, yes, that would do it. Sofía, when told she couldn’t do something, tended to do it anyways just to prove that she could. You set the basket of flowers down and tried to neaten Sofía’s hair a little so her mother wouldn’t be as cross… but there wasn’t much you could do about her ripped dress. You looked up into Sofía’s brown eyes with your eyebrows raised. 

“I think your brothers were taunting you, Sofía,” She scowled at you and you chuckled. Then your eyes caught sight of someone leaning against one of the buildings in the village, watching you. You looked back to Sofía and held her hands. “Why don’t you run home before you get into any more trouble and give your mother even more grey hairs, yes?” Sofía huffed, but agreed and darted off. You picked up your basket of flowers and walked over to where Morpheus was leaning. “You know you could say hello, she doesn’t bite… that much.” Morpheus chuckled at your words and raised a dark eyebrow. 

“I could, but I enjoy watching you with the little ones.” He slowly drew out, his lips twitching and his voice, once again, making you shiver in delight. That was a secret of yours you were bound and determined to keep: you loved his voice. It was his secret vice to just watch you putter around your dream in happiness. Your smile was blinding and he had long since fallen in love with it. Well, he had long since fallen in love with you. You gave Morpheus a frank snort and tapped your basket absentmindedly. 

“Alright then, stay in your shadows, Dream Lord,” You teased him. “I would offer you coffee to drink but seeing as you never actually drink any…” Morpheus smirked at your jab. 

“I do not need sustenance, Fortuna,” You rolled your eyes and mumbled under your breath about his rather unadventurous lifestyle. Your muttered words only amused Morpheus further as he followed you back to your cottage, in stride with yours. Entering the cottage, you set the basket of flowers on the kitchen table and started gathering a bunch to put into a glass. They would be a nice addition to your simple kitchen. As you did so, Morpheus watched you carefully, noting that ever so often your face would scrunch in slight pain and you would shift your weight. He dropped his eyes to your hidden ankle. Even in dreams the old wound still gave you grief. “Fortuna,” He broached. You paused what you were doing and looked at him in curiosity. 

“Is something wrong, Morpheus?” Morpheus tilted his head to the side and eyed the lone chair in the room. 

“I should like you to sit down.” He spoke. You didn’t need to question why he asked you such a question. There wasn’t anything you could hide from him. So setting the flowers down, you made a spectacle of sitting down as asked, exaggerating your movement. Morpheus raised an eyebrow at you, amused by your response. Once seated, you tilted your head to the side and smiled innocently. 

“Is there anything else you should like me to do, my lord?” Morpheus chuckled at your facetious comment. 

“I fear you have been on your ankle far too long,” Morpheus spoke, lowering himself to one knee and reaching for your aching limb. He pulled your foot free of your skirts and lightly ran his fingers over your scarred flesh. His touch eased the ache and you sighed. “You should be taking more breaks, do not cause yourself pain you do not need to suffer,” Morpheus said, his star-like eyes peering into yours. You chewed on the edge of your lip and looked back down at the ankle he held. 

“Well I’m not doing it on purpos—“ You were jarred from your dream, jerking slightly in Morpheus’s arms. Your head, which had been resting on his shoulder as you slept, lifted as you blinked in confusion. What caused you to wake up? You had slept like a rock in the past decade thanks to Morpheus. Not only did he cradle you gently within his arms day and night, but he kept you from turning to ice with his body heat. You had no idea how he stayed so warm in the cold basement, never seeming to be affected by the environment you both were stuck in. Morpheus had also long since adopted a grasp on your body to give you the best chance of modesty from the guards that constantly watched you both. 

In the ten years, you had been trapped with Morpheus, your ankle had healed, leaving you with an unsightly scar wrapping around the circumference of your skin, and your relationship with the Endless had been kindled to one strong enough that he had asked you to call him Morpheus. You did, and it was perhaps one of the few things that brought a smile to his lips during your dreams. In fact, you were the only thing that 

gave the Endless any type of positive feeling. Your burning refusal to bow to Roderick Burgess was inspiring and commendable, but the longer you remained trapped, the less your eyes glowed with fire. Morpheus could see the flames of fight in you slowly dying. The confines of the glass cage were taking their toll. 

You looked around in confusion, wondering what had disturbed you from your sleep, but then you realized that Morpheus was staring at something. At the metal gates across the moat, perched on forged iron, was a black bird with a swatch of white. No, this was no blackbird, this was a raven. Morpheus’s raven, Jessamy. You scrambled out of Morpheus’s arms and stood up, your hands pressing against the glass as Jessamy swooped through the grates in the gate. Then Jessamy fluttered up to the top of the glass cage and started viciously banging against it with her beak. Morpheus rose to his feet behind you, the heat from his skin pressing into your back. Hope bloomed in your chest for the first time since your capture and you pressed your palm over the place the raven repeatedly pecked at. 

“Pajarito, me alegra verte,” (Little bird, I'm glad to see you.) You whispered against the glass, little black eyes staring into yours as Jessamy hit the glass harder. Over and over and over again. You felt Morpheus place a hand on your hip, you could even feel his hope radiating from his body. But just as suddenly as your hope had come, it was taken away from your most violently. A gunshot rang out and Jessamy exploded, painting the glass in front of you with crimson and onyx. You jerked back with a choked gasp, violently colliding into Morpheus, who caught and supported your shaking body. For a few moments you felt like you couldn’t breathe, then your eyes burned viciously and the first of many tears to come started to fall. Jessamy, little beautiful Jessamy, now lay dead on the binding circle. You thought you might throw up and twist around, flinging yourself into Morpheus’s chest and holding onto him for dear life as you tried to stifle the sobs emerging from your mouth. 

Morpheus’s grip on your body tightened as he felt your hot tears drip onto his skin, he could feel his own as he stared down at all that remained of his beloved raven, Jessamy. He wished he could feel something at this moment, even if it was upset or distress like you, anything but this taxing and void feeling of nothingness. Shock. He was definitely feeling shocked to the point of nearly not understanding what had just happened. 

“You idiot! You could have shattered the glass!” The voice of Roderick Burgess was explosive in the deathly quiet of the room. You flinched at his voice, digging your fingers into Morpheus’s back and holding him that much tighter. The pain you felt had to be a thousand times worse for Morpheus. Morpheus sank back down to the base of the cage, carefully collecting your shaking body. Your trembles, shakes, and hiccups continued as Morpheus pressed his face into your hair. Your tears were endless against his skin, and it was only when you had cried yourself to sleep that your body finally relaxed. Morpheus was quick to join you in your dreams, needing your comfort just as much as you needed his. It became obvious that you were nowhere near your usual spots. 

The fields were empty, the church as well, the village square with its foundation was devoid of life… Morpheus could only surmise that you had holed yourself up in your cottage. Pushing the door to your cottage open, Morpheus stepped inside to see your chair lying on its side and the glass of flowers spilled on the floor, you were nowhere in the main living area. You could only be in one place: your bedroom. Morpheus pushed the door open quietly and found you curled up in a ball on your bed, your fingers digging into your scalp in a white-knuckled grip. You were sobbing in despair and utter devastation. He could feel the rippling waves of guilt that burned in your veins and the pain you currently felt in your heart was worse than anything you had felt before. He called your name, and you shriveled in a tighter circle. 

“Fortuna,” Morpheus called again, his hands begging to wrap around your body for an ounce of the comfort you carried. 

“Traigo la muerte,” (I bring death.) You whispered out, fully believing your words. Morpheus walked forwards and wrapped his arms around your curled body, his hands searching for yours. He found them and wove his fingers with yours. 

“You do not bring death, Y/N,” He said softly, his face burying into the back of your neck. It was rare that he called you by your birth name. Actually, you couldn’t even remember the last time someone had called you by it. You were Fortuna now, the Goddess Incarnate, your mortal life, and name long since dead. Your hands trembled violently around his and you shook your head furiously. 

“How do you think I became friends with Mother Death!?” You exclaimed, more tears leaking from your eyes and dribbling down your already tear-streaked face. “I am a harbinger of death, Morpheus.” Morpheus breathed in the scent of your perfumed skin, determined not to let you fall into despair.

“A harbinger of death does not possess a smile as radiant as yours, nor is it as compassionate as you are. You are exactly as you appear to be,” Morpheus murmured, holding you tighter and soaking in the comfort of your soft body. 

“And what is that?” 

“A Goddess,” He gently whispered to you. That night you spent wrapped around each other, endless tears falling from your eyes.

Date Published: 11/27/22

Last Edit: 11/27/22

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[ominous-faechild]

✦ Crow's Character Asks and Quotes ✦

commissioned art by Neige; here's her instagram!

Would you do something illegal if you were getting paid a large sum of money? (You can choose the illegal thing)

Crow: I mean, aren't I already being paid to do illegal things for lots of money? Breaking and entering, very consensual information-gathering, theft of evidence, falsification of identity, planting of evidence when and where necessary... wait, who's asking again? Change of answer: I would never. 😘

What is your favorite non-human creature in the world and why? (Gods count)

Crow: That's easy! My familiar, Aria! I don't care if she's connected to me, she's not human--and don't you dare make a joke about me not being human either! I am cursed, not something else! And why do I love her? I mean--is she my favorite non-human creature? Well... there's a lot of reasons. For one, she's my familiar. Like, she chose me. Even if she's a crow, too, because she's taken on a bit of my curse... I mean, that's my fault isn't it? Ha... no, I think she's fine. She's still able to sing, and that seems to be enough for her. I guess I like that about her, too. Eh, this is all too gushy. Next question!

If you were forced to kill one person you have met, who would it be? (Not yourself)

Crow: *looks at the people they've gotten thrown into prison* Yeeeeaaaaah, there's a lot of options there. You really want me to pick one? Look, I already only spared them because it was against the law and my father would've been upset about it. If I'm going to go against their wishes... I'm going to pick a lot more than just one. 😉

"What's your relationship with your family like?"

Crow: Oh, my father's great, yeah. ... What, you were expecting more of an answer?

"Do you have any hobbies? if so, what ones?"

Crow: Psh, nothing as boring as reading. (*Precariously leaning back against a bulging doorway. There's a creak and then--CRASH!!!*) SHIT--

(*Furiously opens the door. An endless pile of books comes falling out. Except... they're all related to their cases? Huh. Is their hobby... working?*) Yep. That's my hobby. Working. Tell my dad that, would ya? 😘 (Oh I think we see something deeper in the closet--) NO!!! DON'T YOU DARE-- (*we zoom in to see countless artistic collages made out of cut-outs from pictures in their books and magazines.*)

...

(*Crow, face burning, melts into the shadows and hides in shame.* But??? That's a cool hobby??? WAIT, COME BACK, AZA--)

"Do you dream often? what about?"

Crow: Ha, no. Do most people remember their dreams? (They're lying. They remember. Their dreams center around failure. Failure, and a desperation to prove themself.)

"What is the one thing you would not wish on your greatest adversary?"

Crow: A pointless end. If you have to die, you should die for something. Something meaningful. Something you care about.

"What's your relationship with your family like?"

Crow: Sike!!! Bet you thought I wasn't going to answer this question. 😘 How cruel of you to think so lowly of me!!! 😭

I wasn't kidding, my father's great, I love him. He taught me everything I know about--detective work and all, heh! We don't always see each other because he's usually working on cases, but he's given me everything I need to succeed in life and I'm thankful to him for that. So hopefully I'll make him proud on this case with Frey! 😉😊

✦ Quotes ✦

"Move over! I wanna watch too."

Crow: *teleported through shadows to get to a better vantage point* Crow: "Excusez-moi!" *at the same time as slapping them aside with their wing* (note: they are not French.)

"A little help, please?"

Crow: "Ey! Over here! HELP!"

"Unhand me!"

Crow: *combat mode: engaged. Duck into their own shadows and teleport to get a moment to process the scene before reacting further.* Crow: *calmly, making eye contact* "you have less than five seconds to let go of me. Five. Four--"

"Okay, someone has to come up with a plan!"

Crow: *deadpan* "Don't make me break out Plan B. Trust me, you do NOT want Plan B."

Original posts: Asks 1, Asks 2, Quotes ALL ABOUT CROW HERE! (note: will be uploaded soon!)

Divider from @cafekitsune

[geometricalien]

Ooooohhh 3 akafuri WIPs??? Sign me up!! I'm curious what they are about, if you don't mind sharing ~

I'm glad to share! Most of these have chapters already posted (because self motivation can only get me so far lol) and I'll make sure to add a link for the ones that do

εὐήλιος - Act 2 of my ancient greece au which is more or less a retelling of the trojan war with the generation of miracles where akashi is "achilles" and furihata is "patroclus" if you know those names you know how this ends but I hope to make my take interesting and unique! Act 2 is the beginning and middle of the war where akafuri are an established couple taking on "troy" and them working through their problems as a real couple. I like this one alot bc it's the main idea I've been playing with for almost 3 years and as such it's very self indulgent.

Things That Hold Us Together: Steel Bolts and Tender Hearts - war android akashi is reawakened by technician furihata and decides to stay with him. That's what is on the can but it's been proving harder for me to develop character growth or a theme.

Sidenote: android/human aus tend to work because the character who is the android is the "bubbly personable" one while the character who is the human is "cold mean rude or similarly detached from normal social conventions" and an underlying question in the fic is what makes them so different if the android is more "humanlike" than the actual human? Alas this general theme is not applicable to my wip - this is just one example of my difficulties building this wip

Every Family Has Their Traditions - Newlyweds Akashi and Furihata are invited to play a game of Hide and Seek with Akashi's family on their wedding night but not everything is as it seems. This is based on my beloved Ready or Not (2019) horror movie (however I've added some distinctly akafuri twists to fit the ship, the akashi family, and the gender role/conventions of marriage) its a movie I've watched countless times and can't help plastering these two characters faces on the main leads (I even have fanart that I drew of akashi and furihata as screenshots from the film!!)

I started this half bc of my fascination with akafuri in the roles and half bc I reaaaaalllly wanted a horror fic involving them which leads me to-

Trust Me Darling Dear - This is in the beginning stages (and has been for months, rewriting, scrapping- it's a mess) but I'm hopeful that I'll convey what I want! I just need to see what I don't want first lol also we need more horror akafuri!!! As a treat! For me! Akafuri lends itself so well to the themes of comedy and horror- we got the comedy in butloads but it's time for horror- and I know that everyone who still ships them is. Hesitant to write Akashi in any light that could potentially demonize DID and there are authors who have managed to write these excellent surrealistic horror fics and I want to join them!

Read @carrot-felisidad 's Hannibal au series and @medium-dippers 's chainsawman oneshot! Edit: Tumblr keeps eating these links 😡

Unnamed wip - High school sweethearts that broke up meet once again after a decade apart on a flight back home from the usa. Alot of the time my ideas are spawned from one scene and it's hard to look past the one moment. In this I'm just hooked on the moment Furihata is settling in his seat and Akashi turns to greet him- they both call still, too stunned to say anything as their eyes rove over the love of their life and comparing them to their memories, seeing the physical manifestation of time in the fine lines around their eyes or mouth, how Furihata has this intense need to run away and also hold on tight to Akashi's arm. How they try to do small talk before it falls off and they steal glances at each other- ughhhhh they disgust me

And lastly,

Unnamed 5 +1 - the slow break up of akafuri from other people's perspectives. yeP

Those are all my current wips (if you don't count the ones that I'm not trying to actively think about- I got a star trek au, a cowboy/western au (that will never get developed agdhsjsh), and a waiter/regular au) thank you for the ask!!

[critical-chris]

Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania

Who let the title of this movie get so damn long?

Here we go again. Another post-Endgame, superhero film capping off a trilogy of movies featuring a loved lead character. If only Thor took notes and ended at a trilogy too, maybe the Marvel franchise wouldn't seem so tired and exhausting at this point. I myself am nearing the end of my rope when it comes to watching new installments in another phase of Marvel. The last notches on the belt I've been looking forward to were Guardians of the Galaxy: Volume 3 and, due to my own love for the lead character and actor, Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantamania.

I feel like I've always been a fan of Paul Rudd. I don't even remember the first movie I saw him in, but I had to have immediately loved him and kept that same energy over the years. It doesn't hurt that he never had a real drop-off either. Looking back through his acting career, he hit the ground running with Clueless three years after his first credit (I haven't seen it, but people like it and I trust he was great in the movie). Then he hits you with Wet Hot American Summer, what used to be a cult hidden classic until Netflix brainwashed everyone into thinking that it was a star-maker when it was released.

He's a key, hilarious figure in one of my favorite comedies all-time Anchorman, a long running guest star on Friends, simps his way through 40 Year Old Virgin, dips a toe in Knocked Up, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Role Models, I Love You Man, etc. etc. The list goes on and on. My favorite Paul Rudd moment is in one of his more mediocre films funnily enough, Wanderlust. The scene where Rudd hypes himself up to a mirror before expecting to hook up with Malin Akerman's character made me laugh harder than I ever had before. Whether it's a cameo, a guest starring role, or being a leading man, Paul Rudd has given us countless performances and years that are laugh out loud funny and memorable.

Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania is the third installment in the Ant Man story and the i-can't-keep-count-how-many movies in the Marvel saga. Scott Lang has been through a lot coming into this movie. He's been to prison, defeated his mentor's protégé and came to terms with Bobby Cannavale marrying his ex-wife, a phasing supervillain and a trip to and from the Quantum Realm (I had to look up the synopsis for Ant-Man and the Wasp because I remembered very little from it despite enjoying it), the blip from Endgame which aged his daughter to a teenager, and the threat of Thanos. The thousand plotlines of the Marvel universe are becoming tired at this point, and you really don't have to remember every little detail, but these events converge and lead us to this new, and hopefully last, adventure for Paul Rudd in the superhero multiverse.

At the start of Ant-Man and the Wast: Quantumania, Scott is living a B-list celebrity life, having meals comp'd by businesses unsure which Avenger he is, slipping in as many Baskin Robbins' plugs as he can, and relishing in his newly released book The Little Things or Don't Count Out the Little Man or whatever little pun they made. His daughter Cassie is an activist rebel for good who also has somehow caught herself up on quantum physics with the help of Hank and Janet Pym (Michael Douglas and Michelle Pfeiffer). A convenient point as Cassie has been building a device that can map out and contact the Quantum Realm. Janet Pym loses her shit when she hears of this device and, when attempting to deactivate it, ends up getting the whole clan sucked back into the Quantum Realm. Oh what sights they will see and unusual characters they will meet.

The opening moments are okay enough, there are a couple laughs delivered by Paul Rudd's narration and odd family dynamic, but there is one problem that begins to present itself and sustains throughout the whole movie: the film has no soul. I don't know what it is, these characters I personally really liked and was interested in from the first two movies and Avenger appearances fall flat and seem generic and frankly uninteresting in moments. I should care what happens to these people, but I just didn't. I guess the positive I can glean from the opening is they get to the Quantum Realm rather quickly.

Scott and Cassie (The Langs) get split up from Hope, Hank, and Janet (The Pyms) and each try to find their way back to each other for a decent chunk of the movie's midsection. The Langs battle a couple amoeba and sun monsters before being captured by a group of humanoids and creatures. The Pyms follow Janet on a quest to find someone who can lead them back to reunite with The Langs.

The biggest issue I had when our group of heroes are dropped in the Quantum Realm that lasted throughout the runtime of the movie is the fact that every background, setting, action piece, etc. is computer generated. Obviously I understand you cannot reasonably create most of these effects practically, but when every single rock and speck of dust is CGI the movie loses its texture and I find it hard to emotionally connect as much to people interacting in front of a green screen in a studio. That has always been an issue with Marvel films, but feels like ever since they dove into the multiverse pool it has grown more and more evident.

Scott is dragged into an encampment at night (is there technically a day and night in a Quantum Realm?) where all these crazy creatures circle around him giving the impression he is about to be tortured or killed. Cassie runs into the scene out of nowhere, a red liquid dripping around her mouth, and urges Scott to "drink the ooze". Alright, am I the only one that felt this scene was eerily similar to Star Wars: Episode 6 at the Ewok village? Yes? Okay then, I'll move past it. Scott drinks this red ooze the creatures give him and suddenly he's able to understand the many languages they all speak. They tell him they are rebels against this unnamed 'Conqueror' and he is definitely going to be searching for Scott and Cassie being newcomers to the realm.

The rebels are pretty generic characters. You have the female warrior with a cool staff that disintegrates foes (a lot of disintegration in this movie) but otherwise has no personality, a brute with a sun head with no other discernable personality, and an ooze creature obsessed with how many holes everyone has (I'm not joking) who I guess has a goofy personality, and then just cannon fodder all around.

Meanwhile, the Pyms barter for a manta ray looking thing that allows them to travel to what looks like a hotel rooftop bar to meet a mysterious figure from Janet's past when she was stuck in the Quantum Realm. Turns out, it's Bill Murray. I read a report that Bill Murray was really interested in joining the Marvel franchise, but you could never tell from his performance in this movie. I mean, this guy is SLEEPWALKING through his role. It felt to me that he was on set for a day, maybe two at most, and maybe had a Benadryl or two because he is snoozed out. Anyway, he reveals Janet used to be in a romantic relationship with him but instead of helping the Pyms he has sold them out to the 'Conqueror'.

The Pyms escape, and while on the way to find The Langs, Janet finally comes clean on her past in the Quantum Realm. She found a man named Kang (The Conqueror) who she thought crashed in the Quantum Realm and needed to repair his ship's core which would allow them to escape back to the real world. Janet helped him find the formula to recharge the core, but when they install it and she touches the fully powered ship, she glimpses into Kang's mind and sees that he was actually banished to the realm after going on a conquering spree where he murdered billions of people across different multiverses and timelines. She used the Ant-Man tech to explode the ship's core to a magnificent size which stranded Kang.

The rebel camp housing Scott and Cassie is found out and attacked by the Conqueror's minions and the duo are eventually captured by a flying, mechanical death machine with a golden face and miniature arms and legs. Yes, that's right, miniature arms and legs. So let's talk about MODOK...

I can't lie, the first time MODOK (Mental Organism Designed Only for Killing) pops his helmet off and reveals the stretched out face of Corey Stoll, I laughed. It is inarguably a funny sight and gag for a movie that is inherently supposed to be a comedy. Paul Rudd is at his comedic best in the moments when he talks with MODOK since he can play the 'holding back a laugh or joke' face extremely well. However, I think they go back to the gag waaaaaay too many times and it would have been better served for MODOK to have his helmet down more often than not to keep him menacing and seemingly dangerous. Instead, you never feel anyone is in real danger when he's around because of how ridiculous he looks.

Scott and Cassie are locked up when they first meet Kang the Conqueror, who details to them his master devious plan to shrink his ship's core to normal size with Scott's help, escape the Quantum Realm, and continue his conquering ways. Scott of course refuses, but upon threat of his daughter's death, he relents rather quickly and agrees to help. I do want to make a quick note that I love Jonathan Majors and think he plays a great character in Kang the Conqueror, perfectly captured in the Loki series, and if I wasn't so tired of this franchise I would be looking forward to seeing him more. Alas, I will stick to watching the upcoming second season of Loki and likely bail out from the rest.

Scott's mission is to shrink himself down to find the core of the massive ship's power core (yes, a core of a core) which creates what they call a "Probability Storm". How do I remember the term? Because they repeat it like six times in a five minute sequence. Scott beings to multiply into different versions of himself that would have existed had he made different choices in life, similar to the paradox of Schrödinger’s box and cat. However, we don't get wildly different versions of Scott, rather a million copies of the same version asking what is going on. Oh, and one in a Baskin Robbins uniform, a company that must be bankrolling these films for how much they reference it in a two hour runtime. It stopped being funny the last movie, enough already.

After enduring this sequence, Scott is able to shrink down the ship's core, but is betrayed by Kang (shocker) who steals the core without freeing Cassie and shuffles away to his grand kingdom to prepare to leave the Quantum Realm. The Langs and Pyms regroup, Hank reveals that a few of his ants were also sucked into the Quantum Realm, and prepare themselves to storm Kang's empire city. Something something something, they rouse the rebels in the realm, who cares who cares who cares, and they get to the city with Scott growing himself to a giant size and he breaks down the walls to Kang's kingdom.

Scott Lang and the gang (why hadn't I used that term before now?) face off against Kang and his millions of minions until they finally prevail when Hank Pym's ant army come to the rescue in a pretty cool ending battle. You see a glimpse of Kang's power as he disintegrates fleeing rebels, although conveniently doesn't kill the one with the cool staff as I'm sure they'll get some half-assed Disney+ show out of her, before he is overpowered by the army of ants and eventually destroyed along with his ship's power core.

And here we find two major issues I have with the ending of this movie:

Kang is defeated by ants

Kang the Conqueror is supposed to be the next baddie that will stretch the next several Marvel films in the same vein as Thanos. They spend the whole movie alluding to and then explaining that Kang has innumerable variants (clones, basically) across timelines but this version was so ruthless and awful that the others banished him down to the Quantum Realm. In my mind, he should be the one leading this multi-movie onslaught of trouble for the next generation of Avengers. And yet, he is defeated by Ant-Man, The Wasp, a teenage girl, and two older scientists with telepathic ants. How am I supposed to believe that this guy, or his clones, pose any threat to a collection of superheroes when he can't beat a couple of the lesser ones?

2. Scott's "Sacrifice" is immediately worthless

I thought the ending of this movie may actually work well and be impactful when Scott and Hope seemingly stay behind in the Quantum Realm to keep Kang from escaping despite the rest of their family jumping through a portal to the real world. However, after destroying Kang, it takes all of 20 seconds for the portal to be re-opened and Scott and Hope to escape. I don't know if they're planning on making more Ant-Man movies (I hope they don't) or keeping Paul Rudd around to pop up in future stuff as a cameo (I won't see it if he happens), but it would have been a perfect way to wrap up the character by having him live in this world with Hope. Instead, they ruin it and there is no emotional moment at the end of this after all.

Overall, I'm pretty much done with Marvel and this movie did nothing to reinvigorate my desire to stick with this universe through another dozen films, although I think the negative reviews around it are a little much and more representative of Marvel exhaustion rather than it being a terrible movie. The film is okay, but I wouldn't shit on it. The best word to describe it, and a word I've come to love in the last couple years, is Meh.

Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania - 6.0/10

[meatmechapilot]

Rivaereri Spring 2024 - Day 6: Crime AU

Bonnie and Clyde

“Hands up in the air!” the- masked man shouted as he unloaded a clip into the ceiling of the bank lobby.

Screams rang out as bank patrons scrambled to look for cover all over the place, most ended up huddled against the wall. The bank teller was frozen in fear as the masked man got closer to the counter. She saw that there is an accomplice that is now going around collecting valuables from the bank patrons. They are both armed and the bank teller saw wallets, watches, jewelry and other valuables going into a bag.

“Hand them over,” the first man, who is now right up at the counter and aiming the gun straight at the poor, terrified employee. She saw now that the man with the gun isn’t really that tall, but he has an imposing aura that makes him terrifying all the same. She scrambled to comply with the demands by emptying the bank vault and laying stacks of money on the counter. The gunman’s accomplice is now also at the counter and is scooping the money into his bag with the other valuables.

The two criminals worked perfectly in sync and cleaned out the bank in no time. For a parting gift, the gunman reached into his pocket and pulled out a gas canister and unleashed its contents into the bank. Then they turned heel and left the bank full of people choking and gagging from the noxious gas.

Finally, when they were outside, they hopped into their getaway car and floored it, getting out of the crime scene in record time.

===

On the outskirts of the city, inside the criminals' lair, the TV is on with breaking news about the latest high profile bank robbery.

“Hey brat! Turn that infernal TV down!” The older of the two criminals groused, while sorting out the loot from their previous activity.

“Aw, Levi, you don’t want to see our body count?” The younger criminal answered, his voice a little too happy.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Eren?” Levi said, “the gas is way too easy and takes the fun out of killing. It’s much more satisfying to kill people with your bare hands, seeing the life leaving their eyes is a special kind of experience that no poison gas will come close to.”

Eren heard this spiel from Levi countless times, but since he values efficiency, he never really paid much attention. Levi was a serial killer before becoming a bank robber, so Eren supposed that he knew what he was talking about. “I wonder how much our bounty is now.” Eren flipped through the channel until he found the relevant one that gave him the information. “Thirty million dollars for the both of us! It’s increased by five million since the last time!” Eren exclaimed excitedly. He had a goal of bringing their bounty up to one hundred million. “Oh man, how come you are twenty million and I’m only ten million?” He pouted when he saw the individual bounties.

“Because I was a notorious serial killer with a ten million bounty before I even met you.” Levi said impatiently. “And don’t forget, Kenny Ackerman was at fifty million when he died, us two combined aren't even close to him yet.”

Kenny Ackerman was a legend among the criminal underworld and Eren never failed to be star struck when his name came up. In fact, Levi met Eren when the latter was bragging about surpassing Kenny as the most notorious criminal ever, and intervened before he got jumped by a bunch of hardened criminals. Levi then offered to take Eren under his wing, teaching him all there is to know about committing crimes.

Of course, Levi had ulterior motives in saving Eren. The brat was gorgeous with long legs and tanned skin and the most vivid greens eyes Levi had ever seen. He was an exact match for Levi’s type. The best thing about Eren that Levi discovered was he was extremely groomable, and it took less than a year for Levi to train him to his exacting standards for pretty much everything from housework to cooking to being the perfect whore in bed.

Speaking of bed, Eren came over with a perfectly brewed pot of tea and some tea cakes he made himself, a perfect pre bedtime snack. Levi was nowhere near ready to sleep, he’s always a bit heated after one of their heists and Eren understands him perfectly. Neither of them will get much sleep tonight.

The criminal duo ate their snacks in record time and made a beeline for bed, and not a wink of sleep was to be had until dawn.