#maybe one day someone else could care for him too
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LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - TWELVE
pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of severe anemia; pregnancy; abortion
💌MASTERLIST
Rafe rolled over, squinting against the sunlight breaking through the shitty broken blinds he'd meant to replace weeks ago. His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and before his eyes were even fully open, he swiped it up.
"Yeah?" His voice was a low growl, all gravel, and irritation.
The voice on the other end was professional. "Mr. Cameron? We’re calling to follow up on your father’s properties. There are a few—"
Fuck off.
Rafe cut them off with a sharp exhale, rubbing his temples.
He didn’t let them finish. "Yeah, I know what you’re calling about. I’m not dealing with that right now, okay? Call someone else."
"Sir, you are listed as—"
"I said call someone else," He snapped, hanging up before they could launch into another scripted response. He tossed the phone onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling, breathing hard.
It had been months since Ward died, and somehow, his name was heavier now than it ever was when he was alive. Everyone wanted something—answers, signatures, money. All things Rafe didn’t have or didn’t care to deal with.
The phone buzzed again. He grabbed it, ready to tell whoever it was where to stick their questions, but it was just a reminder about his plans with Topper. For half a second, he considered texting back: Can’t make it. Something came up.
But he doesn’t. Not yet.
Instead, he shoved himself upright, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and dropping his head into his hands.
The dream the call robbed him of was still vivid. For a moment, he forgot where he was—his room felt colder, and emptier, and the bed might as well have been a mile wide.
In the dream, you were eighteen again, and so was he. Back when things were simpler—or maybe just felt that way. Back before he’d ruined everything.
He could see it so clearly: the two of you sneaking out of some party you didn’t want to be at, your hand locked in his as you ducked through the dark streets. You’d been laughing, trying to shush him because he couldn’t stop cracking dumb jokes.
You ended up at the dock by your uncle’s boat. The stars were out, scattered across the sky like a million little promises. He remembered how you’d sat cross-legged on the wooden planks, your hair falling into your face as you smiled at him like he was the only person in the world.
The dock, your laugh, the stars—those were the good parts. But he remembers what you were going through back then, and it hit him all over again.
You’d just lost everything—your parents, your sister, gone in an instant. The private plane went down, and so did the life you’d always known. He remembers the way you’d talk about them—your family—late at night when it was just the two of you. Your voice would crack, and your eyes would shine with unshed tears, but you’d talk anyway. About your dad teaching you how to sail, your mom’s tenderness, the way your sister used to be your role model.
He hadn’t thought about those nights in years, but now they come rushing back, all tangled up with the dream. He still wasn’t strong enough for you back then. He let his own shit get in the way, let his insecurities and his anger twist everything good between you over the years. And when he walked away, he left you to deal with the wreckage of your life and his own cowardice.
He threw on a shirt, and some old shorts, didn’t even bother fixing his hair. No one was going to care—not like anyone was looking to him for anything these days anyway. He stomped down the stairs, rubbing at the back of his neck, pretending like he didn’t spend the night dreaming of your face.
Wheezie was at the kitchen counter, cereal in front of her, scrolling her phone.
She didn’t glance up when she heard him, "You look like shit."
Aw, nothing like a teenager.
"Good mornin’ to you too," Rafe grumbled, heading for the fridge. He grabbed a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap like it had personally offended him, “You’re really settling in, huh?"
Wheezie snorted, not looking up from her phone. "Rose stuck me here with you. What else am I supposed to do? I’m just trying to survive."
“It’s two days."
He hadn’t exactly planned on babysitting Wheezie while Rose was out of the country, he hadn’t planned on much lately
"Two days too many," she shot back, smirking. "You going somewhere?"
Rafe slammed the fridge shut, twisting the cap off his water.
"Why are you stomping around like that?"
"Not fuckin’ stomping," Rafe muttered, leaning against the counter.
"You are," she scowled, shoving a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. "You sound like a baby elephant."
Rafe glared at her, but she just shrugged, unfazed. "You’re up early. What’s the occasion?"
"Just woke up, okay?" he snapped.
"Jeez, someone’s in a mood," Wheezie rolled her eyes. "What’s your deal?"
"No deal." He took a long sip of water, staring out the window.
"Can you drop me off later?" she changed the topic, her tone too casual to be innocent.
Rafe side-eyed her. "Drop you off where?"
"Poguelandia.”
His hand froze halfway to the trash can. "You’re kiddin’."
"Nope," Wheezie said, popping the “p.” She didn’t even look at him, scrolling on her phone like this was just a normal request.
"You know Sarah’s there, right?"
"Yeah, that’s kinda the point," Wheezie finally met his glare. "She texted me. Wants to hang out."
Rafe scoffed, tossing the empty water bottle into the trash. "Since when are you and Sarah talkin’?"
"Since forever," Wheezie pursed her lips, "Just because you two can’t stand each other doesn’t mean I can’t hang out with her. Also," She adds, "there’s a party happening later. Like, nothing crazy, but… y’know."
He hadn’t been around much for his little sister lately—shit, not for a long time, if he was honest with himself. After their dad died, he kind of just… checked out. Too much of his own crap to deal with. But Wheezie didn’t ask for any of that.
"Nothing crazy," Rafe repeated flatly, his arms crossed.
"Relaxxxx,” She shoved another spoonful of cereal into her mouth. "Just drop me off. I’ll figure out a ride back."
He rubbed a hand over his face, groaning. "Wheeze, do you even know what you’re walking into? Pogues don’t fuck with us."
"I wonder why….” She hummed, waving him off. “I’ll be fine, they don’t hate me."
"Yeah, well, they hate me."
"Good thing I’m not you.” Wheezie fired back, hopping off the stool.
Yeah, good thing.
"And it’s not just a party. I’m visiting Sarah, too."
"Yeah, I heard you the first time," Rafe rolled his eyes, "Here’s the deal: I’ll drop you off—"
She perked up, her face lighting with hope.
"—but on one condition," he cut in, smirking just enough to make her suspicious.
He hadn’t really spent time with her in ages—not since Ward died. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was just…easier not to. Easier to stay away, to let the silence pile up.
The real issue was that, for the longest time, he’s been gone for a reason. He didn’t want to be here. It was easier to be numb by being drunk or high. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his sister—it was just that it was too painful, and complicated.
Yesterday, his therapist had told him to invest time in his sisters. To be there for them, to reconnect, because they were his only real family left. Whezzie he could do, Sarah?
Only time would tell.
You have to show up for the people you love. Even if it scares you.
It scared the shit out of him, honestly.
"What?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"You come with me and Topper on the boat first," he said, folding his arms tighter like he’s already won.
Wheezie groaned, slumping back in her chair. "Seriously? What part of not showing up on a yatch is this?”
“Take it or leave it.”
“Why? So I can sit there and listen to you two talk about girls you’ll never get and beer brands you can’t pronounce?"
Rafe glared at her. "It’s not up for debate. You wanna go to fuckass poguelandia? You’re comin’ with us. End of story."
At least he was trying—trying to do something for her, to make up for the time he’d lost, the ways he’d been absent or worse. Even if he still sounded like an asshole most of the time.
"Fine. Whatever. I’ll go with you and Topper. But you owe me big time.”
The whole idea of being present was terrifying, it ruined him when he was a teenager, but he couldn’t keep hiding from it. There was nothing left to hide behind.
“I’ll buy that stupid cereal you like.”
"Lucky me."
"Alright, smartass," He grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee, trying to ignore her smug look. "What do you even eat besides cereal? You’re gonna starve or some shit.”
"I’ll survive. You, on the other hand…" she trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his unkempt pantry. "You look like you could use a babysitter."
Rafe let the corners of his mouth twitch. "You’re an asshole, y'know that?"
“You’re my brother, what did you expect?”
It was just the two of them in his big, empty condo. He might not have been much of a role model—or even a decent older brother—but for the next two days, he could try.
“You’re the worst,” she grumbled, grabbing her phone off the counter.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Rafe said dismissively, turning toward the door. “Be ready in ten.”
Wheezie, rolling her eyes so hard he thought they might fall out of her head, stomped back upstairs, probably to change into something less “little sister on a boat” and more “teen rebel” or whatever the fuck kid’s liked these days. She could dress however she wanted as long as she didn’t make him regret dragging her into this.
Rafe leaned against the truck while he waited for his sister. His arms were crossed, his fingers drumming against his bicep in a nervous rhythm. It wasn’t about the boat—he didn’t even know why he’d suggested it. Maybe it was just an excuse to keep her close for a little longer before dropping her into pogue territory. He missed her.
An hour later, he was pulling the truck into the dock’s gravel lot, the tires crunching as he rolled to a stop. Topper was already there, lounging on the boat, a beer in one hand and sunglasses perched low on his nose.
Wheezie hopped out of the truck before Rafe even had a chance to cut the engine. “God, does he ever not look like a wannabe country club poster boy?”
Rafe smirked as he climbed out.
“Rafe! Wheezie!” Topper called out, spreading his arms wide like he was greeting royalty. “What’s up, losers?”
Wheezie snorted, marching toward the boat. “Nice shorts. Did Vineyard Vines have a clearance sale, or did you just raid your dad’s closet?”
“Stop being ruthless,” Topper glanced down at his pastel pink swim trunks, feigning offense. “These are a classic.”
“A classic embarrassment,” she fake gagged, stepping onto the boat.
Rafe followed her, shaking his head. “Play nice.”
“Fantastic,” Topper drawled, “There’s two of you today.”
“You make it too easy.” Whezzie dropped onto one of the cushioned seats and leaned back, pulling her sunglasses down over her eyes. “What’s the plan, Captain Douchebag?”
Topper raised his beer in a mock toast. “The plan is sailing.”
“Wow. Revolutionary.”
Rafe chuckled, untying the boat and giving it a shove off the dock. “Just sit back and relax, Wheez. We’ll drop you off later.”
Topper’s head snaps up, “Drop her off where?”
"Where do you think?" Rafe leaned over to check the boat's engine. He didn't bother looking at Topper, already waiting for the inevitable reaction, “Sarah's.”
"Wait, wait, wait," Topper held up a hand like he was stopping traffic. "You're taking her to Poguelandia? Are you out of your mind?"
"It's not your problem," Rafe grumbled, starting the engine. The low hum drowned out part of Topper's rant, but not enough to miss the gist.
"Not my problem? Dude, the second you step foot over there, it's everyone's problem. She’s there too, y’know? Stopped by earlier to make peace…She changed her gate’s code. And the lock.”
The gate code. The lock.
He couldn’t get it out of his head.
For years, it had been the same—just like the keys he used to have to your place. Just days ago, the gate had swung open just like it always did, the same code he’d memorized like it was second nature.
You hadn’t changed the code, hadn’t swapped the locks. He’d half convinced himself it meant something, maybe you weren’t ready to fully let him go, either.
Rafe’s hands stilled on the throttle. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but his jaw tightened all the same. Topper, of course, noticed immediately.
"See? This is what I’m talking about," Topper leaned back in his seat, spreading his arms like he was laying out some grand revelation. "Where do you think she’s staying at? It’s fuckin’ obvious. We show up, and it’s gonna stir shit up.”
It was almost like you’d left the door cracked open for him. Just enough to make him believe there was still a chance. Now he wasn’t so sure. Had his visit been the final straw? Had the sight of him standing on the other side of your door—looking desperate and pathetic—been the thing that made you decide to shut him out completely?
You didn’t let him in, but you’d opened up the door. After everything he’d put you through, it was your way of protecting yourself. Shutting the door so he couldn’t come crashing back in.
Topper’s voice snapped him back to reality, “You even listening to me, man?”
Rafe blinked, forcing himself to re-focus on the boat’s controls.
“Yeah. I heard you. ’m not staying. Just dropping her off."
“We’re dead meat.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Topper knew better than to keep talking, the conversation ended there.
For the next twenty minutes, the boat cruised over the water, Rafe kept on steering, letting Topper and Wheezie chatter away behind him. He wasn't really listening—hadn't been for most of the trip—but every now and then, Wheezie's laughter or Topper's exaggerated storytelling pulled him back just enough to remind him they were still there.
When they finally dropped anchor near the sandbar, Topper leaned back, cracking open another beer as he stretched out under the sun.
"Alrigh’, who wants to make a toast? First outing of the month, gotta celebrate properly!"
Rafe shook his head, pulling a bottle of water from the cooler instead. He twisted off the cap and took a long sip, ignoring the way Topper raised a brow at him.
"Wait a second," Topper said, sitting up slightly. "You're not drinking?"
The fact his best friend sounded surprised was reason enough to stay sober. He didn’t like being scrutinized.
"Nah," He waived off, leaning back against the seat and letting the sun warm his face.
He’d made the choice not to drink before they even left the dock, but it didn’t stop the instinct—the small urge to crack open a beer and let the eventual numbness take over like it usually did.
Topper looked between the beer in his hand and Rafe, "You serious? Could've told me, wouldn’t have brought all this shit."
“Yeah, sure you wouldn’t have.”
"Fair," Topper admitted, "Still, man. That's… good. Like, really good."
Wheezie, who had been scrolling on her phone, perked up at the exchange. "Yeah, Rafe. I think it's awesome."
Proud. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had said that to him. Maybe you, but it had been a long time since anyone had looked at him and seen something worth being proud of.
He shrugged, “It’s not a big deal.”
But it kind of was. Because sitting there, sober and fully present for the first time in months, he realized it didn’t feel as bad as he thought it would. He’d been drinking non-stop—first to deal with his dad’s death, then to quiet the guilt, and then to forget you.
The therapist had called it “self-medicating.” Rafe had scoffed when she first said it, she didn’t know what she was talking about, but the longer the sessions went on, the harder it was to deny. Drinking had become a way to drown out the memories and feelings he didn’t know how to face.
The therapist had suggested he take a break from drinking, just for a while. “You don’t have to stop forever,” she’d said. “Just give yourself a chance to feel what’s really going on.”
Yeah, because that sounded like fucking fun. Sitting with his feelings.
But something about today felt different. He couldn’t explain it—maybe it was Wheezie’s not hating spending time with him after all the stunts he pulled, or the way Topper had thrown himself into planning this trip like he was trying to cheer him up—but for once, he didn’t feel like drowning himself in alcohol.
It wasn’t like drinking had helped anyway, if anything, it made it worse. The mornings after, when the hangover hit and he couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror, let alone call you to apologize for everything he’d done wrong.
So, yeah. Maybe the therapist had a point.
He glanced at the cooler full of beers and liquor that Topper had dragged aboard. “Don’t feel like it today.”
Topper was still eyeing him like he was an alien, while Wheezie had gone back to scrolling her phone, but every now and then, she'd glance up at him, like she was checking to see if he was still there—if he was still him.
"Alright, enough of the sentimental shit," Topper declared, "Let’s make this a proper day. Who’s up for some wakeboarding?"
Wheezie groaned, flopping back dramatically. "You two are so predictable. Wakeboarding, really? What’s next, golf? A steak dinner? Gonna break out the cigars and talk about how much you cripto?"
Rafe snorted, tossing a towel at her. "Wheez, you screamed your head off last time you tried it."
“Yeah, because I nearly died!" she threw the towel right back at him.
"You were fine.”
“You said I was fine while I was choking on lake water.”
Rafe smirked, standing up to adjust the rope for the wakeboard. “Builds character.”
“Builds trauma,” she retorted, kicking her flip-flops off and stretching her legs out over the seat. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when I’m suing your ass.”
“Good luck with that.”
She tilted her chin up with a satisfied grin, “I can now, thank you very much. I’m an adult.”
“You turned eighteen two weeks ago. Chill with the big-girl talk.”
Topper cracked up from the other side of the boat, pointing his beer at her like it was a microphone. “She’s got you there, big bro. Maybe let her drive the boat next.”
Wheezie perked up instantly. “Wait, can I?”
“No,” Rafe deadpanned.
“Why not?” she whined, her entire body deflating.
“Because last time you tried, you almost ran over a dock,” Rafe tugged the line to make sure it was secure.
“Okay, that was one time, and I was learning,” Wheezie argued. “You’ve done way dumber stuff.”
Topper leaned over, watching the exchange like it was the most entertaining thing he’d seen all week. “This is amazing. You guys should fight more often.”
“Shut up,” Rafe and Wheezie said in unison, which only made Topper laugh harder.
The afternoon passed quickly, filled with sun, water, and Wheezie’s relentless commentary. She refused to try wakeboarding again, opting instead to sunbathe and heckle them from the safety of the boat. Rafe couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard her laugh so much—or the last time he’d felt this calm.
As the sun dipped lower, painting the water in shades of gold, Rafe slowed the boat to a gentle drift. Wheezie was sprawled out with her headphones in, her phone propped up on her stomach. Topper had passed out in the corner, his sunglasses slipping down his nose. Rafe sat at the helm, one hand resting on the wheel, the other dangling over the side. The cool water lapped at his fingertips, calming him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.
For once, he wasn’t thinking about the mistakes he’d made or the people he’d lost. He wasn’t drowning in guilt or regret. He was just… there, present. It didn’t feel as bad as he thought it would
Rafe cut the engine as the boat drifted closer to the dock. The sight of Sarah’s house on the Cut came into view. It wasn’t a kook mansion or some pristine estate—just a house that Sarah and her friends had claimed for herself.
The second the boat bumped against the dock, Wheezie sprang up, tugging her bag over her shoulder. Rafe was quick to follow, throwing the rope around a cleat to tie them off.
“You’re not getting off, are you?” Wheezie asked, looking over her shoulder with her brows furrowed.
Rafe stepped off the boat, sneakers hitting the creaky dock with a purpose. She rolled her eyes when she realized he wasn’t staying behind like she hoped.
“You don’t need to come,” she grumbled, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
“Yeah, I do,” Rafe said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not letting you walk in there alone.”
“She’s our sister, not some random stranger,” Wheezie stomped down the dock.
She might as well have been.
Rafe grabbed the bag she was struggling with and followed her toward the weathered building at the end of the pier. Sarah’s place wasn’t just a house; it was a business. A small café-slash-bait shop that catered to the locals. The painted sign hanging over the front door read Cut Cafe in faded lettering, with a little drawing of a fish under it.
He hated it.
Not because it wasn’t nice, but because it wasn’t theirs. It was Sarah’s—a piece of her new life that had nothing to do with him or Wheezie or anything resembling their family. Another reminder of how far he hadn’t gone.
If he was being honest—something he rarely let himself do—he missed her. Not the Sarah she was now, but the sister she used to be, before the huge fights, before she looked at him like he was some kind of monster. Before Ward.
But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Ward had made sure Rafe would never get to have what Sarah did. She was the golden child, Dad’s favorite. And Rafe—he was just there, a constant disappointment.
It wasn’t that he hated her; it was that he hated what she represented.
Approval he’d never get, a life he wasn’t good enough for.
It was ironic, really. He used to resent Sarah for being Ward’s favorite.
Now he resented her for being yours.
Rafe scowled as the sound of the party reached his ears, even from the dock. Music thumped loud enough to vibrate the air, shouted conversations, and the occasional crash of something—probably a bottle—shattering.
Someone let out a loud whoop, followed by the unmistakable sound of people chanting for a keg stand. Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience thinning with every passing second. He wasn’t in the mood for this juvenile shit.
“You're way too comfortable here,” he scoffed under his breath as Wheezie marched ahead, her steps confident. It pissed him off more than it should have.
“Maybe because Sarah doesn’t treat me like I’m still twelve,” Wheezie shot back, smirking at him over her shoulder.
Rafe ignored the jab, his eyes scanning the small crowd outside.
A couple of Pogues lingered near the porch, laughing over beers and baskets of fries. Their relaxed, judgmental stares followed him like they could smell the kook entitlement on him from a mile away. He bristled, tightening his grip on Wheezie’s bag.
She bounded up the steps and pushed open the door, the bell above it jingling. He hesitated for half a second before following her inside, knowing he was going to regret ever stepping foot in this place.
The air smelled like beer, fried food, and sunscreen. Behind the counter, Sarah stood with her back to them, her hair tied up in a loose bun.
Wheezie cleared her throat loudly. “Hey, Sar!”
Sarah turned, her smile faltering the second she saw Rafe lurking behind Wheezie. Her expression hardened. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you too,” Rafe said dryly, crossing his arms.
“I told Wheezie to come by. Not you.” Sarah’s eyes flicked to Wheezie, softening just slightly. “You didn’t need to bring a bodyguard.”
“I wasn’t gonna let her wander around here by herself,” Rafe shot back, his voice low and defensive. He hated the way Sarah’s words hurt, hated that her disapproval still got under his skin after all this time.
Sarah rolled her eyes, wiping her hands on her apron as she stepped out from behind the counter. “Wander? She’s not a toddler. She knows how to get here. It’s safe.”
Wheezie stood between them, looking like she was torn between laughing and rolling her eyes so hard she might fall over. “Okay, can you two stop? It’s embarrassing.”
Sarah sighed, brushing past Rafe as if he wasn’t even there.
“Whatever. You can go now. Wheezie’s fine here.”
He stood awkwardly near the door, arms crossed, glaring at the locals who cast curious glances his way. It wasn’t worth staying.
Wheezie was safe.
Sarah would make sure of that, whether she hated him or not.
With a sigh, hr pushed open the door and stepped back out onto the porch, letting the door slam behind him. He took a deep breath of salty air, rubbing the back of his neck.
He’d barely made it to the dock when he spotted someone climbing off the boat—
“Dude,” Rafe’s brow furrowed as his friend stepped onto the creaking wood. “Thought you were scared shitless of this place.”
“I’m not scared,” Topper lied through his teeth.
Rafe raised an eyebrow, “Right.”
“We ran out of snacks on the boat, and I’m starving, figured I’d raid the stash at the party.”
“Snacks?”
“I’m starving!” Topper argued, throwing his hands up. “And unless you brought a secret bag of chips somewhere, this is my best shot!”
He sighed, knowing there was nothing he could do to change Topper's mind. “Hurry up.”
“Relax, I’ll be two minutes!"
He watched Topper jog away, sighing and leaning against one of the wooden posts.
You were probably in there, somewhere. Laughing, maybe, or smiling that smile he used to wake up to, a smile that used to be for him.
Now, it was for everyone but him.
He tried not to think about you, but that was like telling the ocean not to rise and fall with the stupid tides. Therapy had taught him to sit with his feelings, to not let them rot into something worse, but he was just starting and you weren’t just the girl he loved.
You were the only person who had ever seen him for more than his name, his mistakes, or the wreckage Ward Cameron had left in his wake. You didn’t just tolerate him; you chose him, since day one.
He didn’t deserve you, not then, not even now.
The sound of footsteps broke his focus.
“About time,” Rafe muttered, turning. But it wasn’t Topper.
Sofia stumbled into view, her dark hair wild and face flushed. Her hand gripped the railing for support as she swayed slightly.
He frowned, mildly concerned, “What the f—are you okay?”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide and frantic. “Y-You need to go get Topper. Right n-now.”
His first thought was that she might’ve come here to throw some drunken, slurred insults his way.
The last time they'd spoken, things had ended...He didn’t even know how to classify that mess. But it didn't look like she was there to slam him with any guilt-trips or hurtful words.
She just looked scared.
“What?” His brows knit together as he stepped toward her, “What are you talking about? Are you drunk?”
Sofia waved him off, her breathing panicked. “The T-thorntons.”
That stopped him cold.
“What about them?”
She tried to grab his arm, her eyes wide, “They’re fighting. It’s bad.”
“Fighting?”
It couldn't be just some random fight; this had everything to do with the bullshit Topper had pulled.
Shit.
Rafe wasn’t even sure if he could fix it. Could he? You hated him too, and no matter how hard he tried, it seemed like you’d never forgive him for everything he’d fucked up. But Topper—Rafe didn’t even have to think twice.
He knew you, how you were when you’d had enough. You weren’t the type to lose your shit unless it was really bad.
He gritted his teeth, knowing full well that when you finally let it out, it was never just a “throw a drink and move on” kind of thing. Nah, when you lost it, it was like you’d been holding all this shit in for way too long and finally decided you weren’t gonna take it anymore.
He knew exactly what you were pissed about.
Topper. Of course. And him. Fuck.
He hated it.
The way your voice would rise when you finally let everything out.
You weren’t someone who yelled, but when you did? Jesus fucking Christ, it hit different. Rafe could never prepare himself fully for that kind of fury, especially when it was aimed at him.
He hated seeing you like this, especially when he knew it was because of him. But it was his fault, wasn’t it?
Rafe’s thoughts were a mess as he followed Sofia, who was clearly way over tipsy, stumbling a little, but she was still trying to explain, voice slurring a bit from the alcohol.
“You gotta understand—she was helping me. I wasn’t feeling so great, right? M-my head was spinning, I don’t know… I just needed a little space. But then Topper walked in and he...S-she just lost it.”
He wasn’t even surprised when she mentioned that you’d been helping her out. Of course you would.
You always had that side to you. Even when you were pissed, even when you hated people, you couldn’t help but step in when someone was in need. You hated Sofia, and everyone knew it. You hated the fact that she’d come around right after he’d fucked everything up with you. You hated how fast she seemed to take your place, even though Rafe didn’t want to admit it to himself either.
Still, there you were, trying to make sure Sofia was okay, again. It made him feel like shit. Not just because you were still holding it together when he couldn’t, but because he knew the whole fucking reason you probably didn’t want anything to do with Sofia—because of how it’d felt when he’d jumped into something else so quickly, so recklessly, after breaking your heart.
The sound of raised voices reached him before he even saw you. He could hear the anger in your voice. There was no mistaking it: you were pissed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen you this way, and it fucked with his gut. You didn’t lose control easily. You never let anyone see the mess, the shit you were going through.
Now you were ripping into Topper in a way that made his blood run cold. He rounded the corner and saw you, hands flailing, and he couldn’t help but wonder: When was the last time anyone stepped up for you? It certainly hadn’t been him. Not the way he should’ve.
And then, of course, there was Topper. He could see the look on his face—guilt, embarrassment. But it wasn’t going to be enough. You had to work through it yourself.
Your shoulders were tense, the way you stood, like you could snap anyone who walked through that door in half if they so much as blinked the wrong way, was all too familiar.
Your cousin was standing in front of you, trying to apologize like it was gonna fix anything, but you weren’t hearing it. No, you were done with that shit.
Topper wipped his hands down his ruined shirt, green smears of guacamole spreading across the fabric. “I fucked up.”
“No shit,” you hissed, “You don’t get to come back from this. You have no idea how fucking sick I am of you—” Hands shaking as you shoved him back, your words coming out in short bursts, "You're the fucking worst. How could you—"
You were about to throw something—probably another drink—when your eyes snapped over to Rafe.
For a fraction of a second, he thought he saw your breath hitch. You froze, eyes wide for a second, and then your expression soured.
Your lip quivered before you sucked in a breath and squared your shoulders.
"Not you too,” you sneered, throwing your hands in the air as the world had just dropped another pile of shit on your already full plate. “Oh my fucking god, seriously?"
Your face was flushed with anger, lips twisted in a snarl. You were so fucking beautiful, even when you were fuming. He could see the fire in your eyes, that same spark he’d fallen for all those years ago. You were just... you. And it was killing him.
He was so fucked.
“All of you—” You spit out, “I should’ve known better. I did know better, but I was stupid. So fucking stupid.”
He couldn’t think straight when you looked at him like that, when you had that look in your eyes. Even in the middle of a fight, it was so goddamn hard to look away.
You weren’t just a memory to him anymore. You were right in front of him, and he couldn’t even breathe straight.
Rafe’s throat tightened, feeling something that wasn’t just anger or regret or confusion. He felt longing. He longed to hear your voice, all the time, longed for those mornings when you’d be pressed against him, all warm, the world outside his shitty room irrelevant.
He missed the simple stuff.
He missed your face, the way you’d look at him with that irritation and affection.
It hit him harder than anything had in months—how much time had passed since he last saw that pretty face smile at him like you used to. Since he last kissed your forehead while you fell asleep next to him, since you last fit so perfectly into his arms that he didn’t want to let go.
He didn’t even know how to start getting that back.
He left. Over and over again.
Rafe registered another drink splashing across Topper’s face a little too late, the sound of the liquid hitting his skin pulling him out of his trance. He blinked a few times, the moment dragging back to the mess in front of him.
You weren’t done, though, as if throwing the drink wasn’t enough, you whipped a bowl of guacamole from the table and hurled it at Topper’s face. It splattered across his shirt, leaving a sticky, green mess in its wake.
He didn’t even flinch, still apologizing, still taking it.
“Sis—”
“I don’t want some bullshit excuse! You were supposed to be my family. You were supposed to—” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head because you couldn’t fathom finishing the thought.
And then—slap, slap, slap—you were hitting his arms, frustration flashing across your face as you let him have it.
Your cousin stood there like a fucking idiot, wiping guac off his face, trying to stammer out some kind of half-assed apology.
“You had no right,” you spat, voice breaking on the words. “None. You don’t just walk in here and act like everything’s fine after what you—” your words choked in your throat. You threw another plate, “You had no right!”
Rafe saw it all, saw the tears ready to spill as you wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand. You weren’t crying yet, but he knew that was about to change. And when it did, it was going to hurt worse than the yelling, worse than the throwing.
Before you could even get another word out, Rafe was there, stepping in between you and Topper, his body tense, preparing himself for something, maybe a few slaps across the face, a drink if you felt generous. You didn’t have to say a word, he could sense it in the way your lips quivered, the way your shoulders shook.
“You need to calm down,” He told you tenderly, though it wasn’t a demand—it was more of a desperate plea.
You didn’t listen.
Instead, you shoved him out of the way, the tears starting to slip down your cheeks, but you didn’t even bother to wipe them away.
“Get out,” you snapped, "Move.”
Rafe didn’t budge, he was here for you, he never stopped fucking choosing you even when he had no right to. He remained still, staring down at you with those blue eyes that had always known you better than anyone.
“Fuck, not like this,” Rafe muttered under his breath, stepping forward once more, this time blocking your path before you could reach Topper again. His hands were gentle on your shoulders as he held you back, “Please, stop.”
You froze, eyes wide, like you couldn’t believe it—you hadn’t been expecting him to step in, hadn’t been expecting him of all people to be the one to try and talk you out of it.
Rafe’s heart dropped when he saw the way your body was starting to shake. You were spiraling, he could see it coming—he'd been here before. The way your breath hitched, how your eyes turned glassy.
He still knew the signs all too well.
His hands shot out instinctively, grabbing your arms, trying to hold you still, "Hey, hey, calm down," he muttered, his voice soothing, "You're gonna make yourself worse if you don’t stop."
He could feel the rapid pulse under your skin, the way your body tensed like a coiled spring, and he didn’t give a fuck that you still hated him.
"Look at me," he coaxed, "Please, just breathe with me. You know this ain't gonna help. You gotta breathe."
Rafe’s heart broke all over again as you crumbled in front of him, damn it, he should’ve been there. He should’ve been there when this all fell apart, when you needed someone to hold you together instead of pushing you away.
He hated seeing you like this.
"I’m right here," he said again, softer this time, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.
Topper stood there, eyes wide, not sure what to do, his face pale as he watched you fall apart in front of Rafe.
Sofia, still drunk and disoriented, caught the look in his eyes and quietly grabbed his arm, “We need to go," she whispered, nudging him, "T-this isn’t helping her."
Topper’s eyes moved to you, and then to Rafe, you could see it in his expression—the guilt, the regret. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.
Rafe shot him a look, one that said everything—get out.
Your cousin, wiped his face before he took a few steps back. "I’m sorry," he muttered, eyes darting between you and Rafe. "I’m so sorry.”
He turned away like a dog with his tail between his legs, Sofia following him without saying much, leaving you.
Rafe barely paid them any mind, his entire focus on you, his hands still holding yours, as he watched you try to calm your breathing.
He pulled you closer, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered again, "Not going anywhere. I’m here, swear to God, I’m here."
His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him fully, not caring if he was blocking the view of anyone else, not caring if things were a fucking mess—he only cared about getting you back to yourself.
He could feel it in his chest, every shitty thing that had piled up, every moment no one had your back when you needed it most.
You didn’t pull away. Maybe it was the anger finally burning out or the exhaustion catching up to you, but for a moment, you let him hold you. Your chest heaved as you fought for control, but your weight sagged against his hands.
His hands loosened their grip, his thumb brushing against your arm without him even realizing it. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to risk letting go because God knew if he’d ever get this close to you again.
You’re safe. You’re okay. I’ve got you.
He didn’t deserve it—not even a little, but he couldn’t let go, you needed someone, even if it wasn’t really him you wanted anymore.
Rafe could sense the way your breathing came out as almost pants against his chest. Every little tremor sent a pang through his chest, like someone had grabbed his ribs and squeezed until it hurt to breathe.
What the fuck was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he fought harder?
Rafe rested his cheek against your hair, closing his eyes as he let himself feel it—the weight of you leaning on him. The smell of your perfume, faint but still the same as always. He felt like a fucking thief, stealing this moment from you when he had no right. You didn’t want this from him, didn’t need this from him.
He wished he could take it all back, erase every mistake, the fight, every stupid decision that had pushed you to this point. If he could trade places with you, take all the pain and carry it himself, he would. In a heartbeat.
You took one shuddering breath, then another. It was enough for him to feel like maybe he’d done something right for once. Maybe he could—
“Get your hands off me.”
Rafe barely moved. His grip slackened, but he didn’t let go, didn’t step away like you wanted.
You pushed at his chest, but he didn’t budge. “I said get your fucking hands off me.”
“Not happenin’,” He swallowed hard, his pulse thrumming against his throat, but he didn’t loosen his grip. “You’re not okay.”
“Go fuck yourself. You don’t get to decide that—”
Your voice cracked, and the sound of it nearly knocked the will to live from his body. He’d always known your tells, had always been able to read you better than you liked.
Rafe’s hands twitched, and then he moved them, moving like he was about to let you go—but then you did it.
You curled your arms around yourself, your fingers gripping the fabric of your dress, right over your stomach. Protective.
Fuck.
Could it be? It was an unconscious gesture, you probably didn’t realize you’d made, but to him, it might as well have been a fucking confession.
Rafe felt his body lock up, every muscle going rigid as the pieces fell into place.
Fuck fuck fuck. Topper was right, wasn't he?
His throat went dry, he managed to croak out, “You’re—”
“No,” you snapped immediately, your fingers tightening on your dress, but you wouldn’t look at him.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I don’t need you.”
He knew he was losing you.
Rafe exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “Bullshit.”
“Fuck you. You don’t get to— say shit like that. You don’t get to—” Your breathing hitched, and you bit down on the inside of your cheek.
“To what? To give a shit?”
He waited, watching, hoping, praying—please look at me, baby, please—but you didn’t move.
You scoffed, a bitter sound.
“You don’t care. You just don’t like the idea of—” Your breath caught, but you swallowed it down, pushing past the lump in your throat. “You don’t like the idea of me making a choice that doesn’t involve you.”
He hadn’t breathed properly since he saw your hands gripping your stomach, hiding yourself from him like you thought he was something to be afraid of. Like you thought he wouldn’t love you.
You thought he wouldn’t fucking stay.
“I love you.”
He barely recognized his own voice when he said it, but it was the only thing he could spill out. He swore to God he saw your left eye twitch at the confession, he knew what came next, but he’d never been good at shutting up when he should when it came to you.
“I do,” he insisted, “And I know I don’t—I don’t deserve to say that. I don’t deserve to expect anything from you.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “But I need you to know it.”
You clenched your jaw.
“I fucked up, I know. I fucked up so bad.”
You turned your head to the side, blinking up at the ceiling, refusing to spare him a glance. “I don’t want you to fix it.”
“I know,” he said immediately. “I know, but I can’t—I can’t just let you go through this alone.”
Your chest rose and fell too quickly, your breath uneven, but still—you stood your ground. “I don’t need you.”
“Please don’t say that,” he nearly dropped to his knees. “Please.”
You looked at him, since he’d realized what this meant, you lifted your head, met his gaze—really met it.
And shit—It nearly destroyed him, because he knew that look.
“Where the fuck were you, Rafe? Kissing her two months after we ended? Huh—” Your breath shuddered, and you shook your head, stepping back, “You didn’t even wait. You just—just moved the fuck on like I never even mattered—”
“It wasn’t like that—”
"Did you fuck her?" Your lips curled into a faux smile. "That’s what I thought."
"No,” He added quickly, shaking his head like the thought alone disgusted him, "No, I didn’t."
You chuckled disbelieving. "Don’t lie to me."
"I’m not," he said, stepping closer despite the way your body went rigid. "I didn’t touch her like that. I swear to God."
"But you wanted to, right?"
His head moved so fast it gave him whiplash, "No. The only person I’ve ever wanted is you.”
You scoffed, “That’s real sweet, real fucking poetic.”
“I let my own shit get in the way, and I hurt you. But I swear to God, I’ve never stopped loving you.”
“That supposed to make me feel better? You fucked off to play house with some other girl,” You swallowed hard, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Why were you there with her? Why did you let me think—"
"Because I’m a fucking assshole," he admitted, "I was trying to forget you, okay? But I couldn’t. No matter what I did, it was always you."
“Fuck you.” You snickered. “Where were you when I finally got my internship? The one I worked for, the one I wanted so bad?” You shook your head, “You didn’t even text me. Not once.”
His throat was tight, his pulse hammering, because he had thought about it—so many times, so many nights staring at his phone, fingers hovering, but he hadn’t.
Rafe’s heart plummeted.
“I—”
“You what? You forgot?”
His nails bit into his palms, “I—”
“You don’t get to speak,” you seethed, you eyes burning through him. “You don’t get to fucking say you care when you weren’t there, when you didn’t even fucking check if I was okay.
"I'm sorry."
"Where the fuck were you,” you whispered, voice shaking with grief, “when I found out I was pregnant with your fucking kid?”
Rafe froze, his stomach jumped around, violently, his ears started ringing. His brain short-circuited, his lungs forgot how to take in air, his heart fucking stopped.
Pregnant.
Pregnant. With his—
“Oh, right.” Your laugh was venomous, “You showed up at my charity gala.” You licked your lips, shaking your head, “Defending her.”
He never felt so completely useless, completely fucking helpless while you stood in front of him, looking up at him like you hated him.
“I—” He started, but nothing came out. “You—”
There was nothing to fucking say, you were right, he had failed you.
You weren’t telling him this so he could weigh in or because you wanted him to be a part of it. You were telling him so he’d know, so there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings, so he wouldn’t ever think, even for a second, that there was still a version of this where he got to be a part of it.
“How long?” The words were hoarse, hardly audible.
Your lips curled in disgust, arms crossing tight over your chest. “Like you fucking care.”
He did, he did care.
So fucking much that he thought he might fucking die under the weight of it. Except the realization hit him just as quickly—he didn’t get to stand here, wide-eyed and breathless and shocked like this wasn’t the natural conclusion to the shitshow of mistakes he’d made.
“Don’t fucking stand there and act like this is some big revelation. You didn’t spend the last months with your tongue down someone else’s throat while I was home—sick, alone—wondering how the fuck I was supposed to do this without you.”
You sucked in a sharp breath, pressing your knuckles to your lips to stop them from shaking.
His gut twisted.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Jesus Christ, he’d been so fucking stupid.
“I don’t need you. I never did.”
It was a lie, maybe you even believed it.
But Rafe knew you, understood how hard it was for you to ask for help. Knew how much it had hurt to stand in front of him, admitting the truth. And Rafe—he needed to fix this. Even if it was the last thing he ever did.
“I should’ve been there.”
“Yeah? No shit.”
Rafe felt his ribs caving in. “I’m here now.”
“That’s not good enough.”
It was a death sentence, it was fair but fuck, he couldn’t accept it.
Rafe stepped closer.
You took a step back.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he swore, desperate. “I don’t care if you fucking hate me, don’t care if you never forgive me.” His throat worked around the lump in it. “I’m here.”
You were so fucking angry. So fucking hurt. He didn’t blame you for it. But if he didn’t try, if he didn’t fucking show you—prove to you that he was here now—then he’d never forgive himself.
“You think I’m gonna just forgive you for this?” you sneered, arms folded tightly over your chest. “Just because you’re here now, just because you say the words that mean nothing—that’s enough? After everything? After all of it?”
All he could do was look at you—look at the person he had ruined, the person he had loved, and still loved, more than anything.
“I just—” He sucked in a breath, running a hand through his growing hair. “Tell me about the baby.”
Your expression faltered before you hardened again, lips pressing into a thin line.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Bullshit.” His voice broke. “Don’t do that—don’t shut me out. Is it... a boy? A girl?”
You hesitated, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. “Why does it matter?”
“Don’t—don’t keep me in the dark, please. You’ve felt them move?”
You looked down at your feet. “No.”
"Did you—uh—" He rubbed the back of his neck, nerves raw. "Do you have morning sickness? I read that happens early on, right?"
You blinked, "What?"
"Like... throwing up and all that? You okay?" He sounded genuinely concerned, but it only made your head spin.
You pinched the bridge of your nose, “Can we drop it?”
It’s then he remembers the beach cleanup, the memories of that afternoon colliding all at once—the way you’d collapsed into him, pale and unresponsive. The panic that gripped his chest as he carried you to the truck. The fight during the drive, when you told him to leave, your refusal to let him come inside.
Jesus fucking Christ.
“You were…” He pratically gasped, “You were pregnant. At the beach cleanup.”
You stiffened, already dreading where he was going with this.
“Don’t.”
His pulse raced, “That’s why you didn’t want me to come inside the hospital, wasn’t it?” His words spilled out, “You were scared they’d tell me. Holy shit.”
“Stop,” you snapped, but he couldn’t.
“You passed out because of—” He couldn’t even finish the sentence. “Jesus Christ.”
“I said stop.”
He couldn’t unsee it now—couldn’t unfeel your dead weight on his arms. He’d been right there, clueless, driving you to the hospital while you were carrying his baby. And instead of being there for you, he’d made everything worse.
“I didn’t know,” he pleaded, voice breaking. “I swear I didn’t know.”
“Exactly.” Your voice was cold, “You didn’t know because you weren’t there.”
He was going to have to spend that entire fucking inheritance fortune on therapy
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"Million Dollar Man"
Ok yall..... I know I said it was gonna be another chapter of "I bet on losing dogs" but @lilithquillete sent in an ask about Reader interacting with Harvey Dent and I couldn't help myself. This is the same AU as Older, and it's the prologue. Sorry if they dont make sense together butttt I couldn't stop myself, Hope yall like it!!!!
The Pink Pony Club was Gotham’s underbelly, dark, seedy, and full of people who either wanted to forget their past or embrace it. Jazz played faintly in the background, a vocalist crooning somewhere in the distance, as smoky air curled up toward the dimly lit ceiling. The dim lighting and murmur of conversation created a sense of anonymity. For you, this was heaven.
A place where you got on stage and no one knew you, your first taste of freedom outside your family. Here, you weren't Bruce Wayne's least favorite child nor were you the failed Batgirl or useless sister, here you were just you.
Your voice enchanted people and on stage in your heels, you were unstoppable.
Only a couple nights ago, you packed your things and walked out of Wayne Manor, as if the years of being part of that family never existed. It wasn’t just that Bruce and the others had been ignoring her for Tiffany all these years; it was the cruel realization that you was never important to them. Not like they were to each other.
You tried. You had given them everything. But Tiffany’s presence had overshadowed you since she came into the manor on your 14th birthday. It was as if you'd been erased, the little attention you got diverted and multiplied to someone who was more useful, more important.
You couldn’t even get a text from Duke anymore, let alone a casual chat with Dick or Tim. Forget about Damian or Jason, or any of the girls really.
So, you left. And now, you found yourself at the Pink Pony Club, a dive bar with no judgments, just an escape.
The club was packed tonight, filled with people who seemed to have their own agendas and distractions. You took a seat at the bar, watching the crowd. It was your first day off and you had nowhere else to go.
Tonight, you weren't singing, didn't want to be noticed, but Gotham had a way of drawing attention to its wounded.
You weren't sure what you were doing anymore. This was't you. You were never a party girl, you would never be caught dead in a place like this. Bruce would kill you, if he could look away from Tiffany long enough to see you here.
Maybe you were trying to spite you family. Maybe trying to drown the anger that simmered within you. Anger at the Batfamily, who had all but erased you from their lives. Anger at yourself, for allowing it to happen.
But mostly, the anger at Bruce. You had spent years trying to live up to his expectations, only to realize that Tiffany had took his love in a day.
But tonight, you weren't thinking about them. Tonight, you were here to forget.
As you sipped your drink, you noticed a familiar figure at the back of the room. Harvey Dent, the once-proud district attorney, now the infamous Two-Face, sat alone in a booth, nursing a drink. His face was partially scarred from the acid, and his expression, even now, looked like he carried the weight of Gotham's filth on his shoulders.
Selina Kyle, Cat Woman, Bruce's ex- lover who got you the job had mentioned he frequented the club. And if you were being honest, you couldn't help but be curious about him.
"Rough night, sweetheart?" a voice purred from beside you. Speak of the devil.
You didn’t even have to look to know who it was. You knew that voice too well. Selina Kyle. The only person who never treated you like a pawn or an afterthought. The only one who didn't care about the petty squabbles of Gotham's rich, the same Gotham she had spent most of her life trapped in. Your only friend in this god-forsaken city.
You half-turned in your chair, giving Selina a wry smile. “You have no idea.”
Selina perched herself next to you, crossing her arms, sizing up the tension on your face. "Let me guess. The Batfamily still ignoring you? Haven't even noticed you moved out? Too busy obsessing over the golden child?"
Your mouth twisted bitterly, but you said nothing, Selina always knew exactly how to get a rise out of you. Your eyes flickered toward the back of the bar again where Harvey Dent, still sat in the shadows, his burnt face half-hidden under his usual dark, grim expression.
Selina followed your gaze, the slight curve of her lips pulling into a mischievous smile. “You’re looking at him again, huh? You know, I never took you for the bad-boy type. Never thought you'd betray Superboy like that.”
"I'm not thinking of Clark tonight." You said, suddenly tense at the mention of your unrequited love.
A dark, playful smirk crossed your lips. You weren't looking for anything serious tonight. Just a distraction. And Harvey would be perfect for that.
Bruce would be pissed.
You slid off the stool and made your way toward the half-handsome man, the tension between them thickening as you approached. He looked up, his eyes scanning you for a moment before he smirked.
“Is there something I can help you with, sweetheart?” Harvey asked, his voice low and rough, the raspiness of his tone sending a jolt of heat through your chest.
You leaned against the table, crossing your arms. “Saw you sitting here all by yourself, thought maybe you could use some company.”
Harvey's lips curled into a dismissive grin, but his eyes were cold, calculating. “You think I need company?” His tone was sharp, sarcastic. “You're a little young for me, don't you think?”
You grinned, unbothered by his coldness. “A little age never hurt anyone, mind if I sit?” You asked, your voice dripping with feigned innocence as you slipped into the seat opposite Harvey. You could feel his sharp eyes on you, scanning your every movement, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he took a sip of his drink, his jaw tight.
“Sure, if you’re into wasting your time,” he said flatly, not even bothering to look up again.
Reader’s lips curled into a playful smile. “I don't think anything to do with someone like you is a waste.”
Harvey glanced up slowly, his sharp gaze scrutinizing you like a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. His eyes lingered on you for a beat too long, his lips tight with something unreadable. “You’re bold,” he remarked, his voice heavy with condescension.
You tilted your head, leaning against the back of the booth, watching him through half-lidded eyes, peering at him innocently through your lashes, “What, is that a problem?”
He didn’t answer immediately, taking a long sip of his drink, his eyes now trained on her lips before sliding up to meet her gaze again. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with, little girl.”
You didn’t flinch, though a hot flash of insecurity pierced through your facade. You’d had enough of people underestimating you. “Maybe, but i've always had a thing for lost causes.”
Harvey smirked, his expression a mix of arrogance and indifference. “I’m not exactly your type, kid. You want a pretty boy, go back to playing in your Batcave.”
You scoffed, crossing your arms and pushing out your chest. “Did you just call me a kid?”
Harvey’s lips thinned, and you could see his eyes momentarily flicker to your chest. All men were the same.. “That’s what you are, sweetheart. You’re out of your league, go home to daddy and stop trying to play with the big boys. You don't belong here.”
You let out a low chuckle, leaning in just a little closer. This was a challenge now, he thought he was too good for you, too strong to give in, you'd show him how convincing you could be. “You think so? I’m not the one sitting in a dark corner of a bar brooding. Seems like I’m doing just fine.”
Harvey’s eyes darkened, and the tension in the air thickened. He took another sip, this time with a little more force, the sound of the glass clinking against the table ringing out. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
You shrugged nonchalantly. “I don't really care.”
He smiled, sharp and predatory, "This won't play out in your favor. You think you're in charge here, you're not."
The words hung between you, charged with something dangerous.
For the next hour, you exchanged glances, words, and cold retorts, every time Harvey tried to shut you down, you would respond with something even more bold and charming, pulling him in. The man was harder to read than a stone wall, but you knew one thing for sure: the tension was building, the air crackling with the kind of heat that made your heart quicken.
Finally, Harvey broke, leaning forward and offering you a sardonic smile. “Alright. What’s your angle, sweetheart?”
You leaned in as well, matching his intensity, never backing down no matter how hard he tried to intimidate you. “Just here for a good time. You’ve got your secrets, I’ve got mine. But I think we could both use some fun. A way to let loose.”
Harvey’s jaw clenched, but the flicker of interest in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. “You’re wasting your time. I’m not interested. ”
“Then why do you keep looking at me like that?” You shot back, your voice low, sharp, and breathy.
Harvey’s lips tightened again, the words bitter in his mouth. “Because you’re trouble, you're a mess. And trouble’s what I wanted tonight.”
The words stung, but you didn’t let it show. “Then we're on the same page.”
For a moment, his jaw tightened, his face betraying a flicker of frustration. He reached for his glass, swirling it absentmindedly before taking a long sip. Then, after a beat, he placed the glass down with a deliberate slowness, his eyes narrowing.
“I don’t have time for games, little girl. Why don’t you take your flirtations somewhere else?”
But there was something in his voice—something that cracked, a faint whisper of desire beneath the tough exterior. It didn’t go unnoticed.
“I don't want much,” You replied, your voice low, leaning in slightly, your noses almost touching. “Just tonight. A distraction.”
He smirked at that. “A distraction, huh? You think you can handle me?"
The words were slow, dangerous, suggestive. The tension between them had become thick, charged with the weight of things neither of them was willing to admit.
“Nothing permanent. Just... for tonight. What happens after doesn’t matter.” You'd never fall for someone like Harvey Dent.
Harvey's lips twisted, amusement in his eyes. “What would your daddy think?”
A week ago, that would've mattered. Back when your life revolved around him and his stupid family. But now? Now, it didn't matter, nothing mattered other than getting Harvey Dent in her bed tonight.
You chuckled darkly. “I'm a big girl now Harvey, I choose who my daddy is."
His gaze sharpened, his grin widened, and you could feel him moving under the table. “Really? Do you now? Does that mean I have to prove myself?" He said his Gotham accent coming out as he swiftly slid out the booth and began walking away, only glancing back at you once in a silent invitation.
The night bled into the morning as you found yourself in your bed alone, the only evidence of last night being your scattered clothes and the rumpled side of the bed that smelled of a deep, earthy cologne. Harvey, nowhere to be found, though you're sure he stayed the night.
You found a note on your nightstand with a number and a single red rose. You threw them both away.
The intensity of the night, of Harvey’s dangerous allure, his cold, hard demeanor that eventually gave way to something more primal; had left you breathless. You hadn’t exchanged any promises, but there was no mistaking the way he’d looked at you afterward. There was an intensity that had simmered between the two of you, a powerful connection of mutual darkness.
Later that day, as you met up with Selina to apologize for ditching her last night, you couldn't help but notice the sly smile on Selina's face.
"So, how was it? Life altering? Mind numbing?" Selina asked innocently, but her voice had a knowing tone.
“Fun,” you replied smirking, “Just what I needed. No strings attached.”
Selina raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because I heard Harvey’s been looking for you. Asking around. Seems like you’ve left an impression on him. He's not the type to give up.”
Your chest tightened, but you pushed the feeling down. “He was just a distraction. That’s all. i just needed to forget Clark for the night.”
Selina knew of your childhood crush, she was the first you told. You approached her as an awkward, chubby 13 year old, asking how to make Superman your boyfriend.
Selina smirked, clearly unconvinced. “You tell yourself that. But I think Harvey’s not done with you just yet.”
You shrugged, "I'm done with him."
Selina faltered, her mischief giving way to concern, "I'm serious. You need to be more careful, men like that, men like Harvey Dent, they don't take kindly to being ignored."
As the days passed, you felt the weight of your choices, of the things you’d told yourself you could leave behind. And yet, you couldn't help but feel the pull of Harvey’s gaze every time you closed your eyes and went home with a different guy.
You were still angry at the Batfamily, still haunted by the echoes of Tiffany’s presence, but now there was something else. Something dangerous, something that wasn’t just about anger anymore.
A few nights had passed since the night with Harvey. You found yourself with a strange feeling, lingering like smoke on your skin. Like someone was watching you, following you.
It started with small things, when you sang at the club, you could feel his eyes on you. When you flirted with customers and they didn't look you in the eye anymore. When even your charms and seduction couldn't pull anyone in, Harvey was trying to put you in a dry spell. Punish you for ignoring him.
A week after the night, you came home from the club to your apartment exhausted and what you saw shocked you. Dozens of red roses were in your living room and kitchen, with notes and pictures attached to each boquet. Everyday you ignored him, your apartment would be flooded with red roses, by the 4th day you were sure there were no more red roses in Gotham. You would read the notes, each day a different one, more vague and kind of threatening.
“I see you every night, whether you want me to or not. - H”
“You think I’m going to give up? Not when I’m this close. - H.”
“You can’t hide from me. I’ll always find you. - H.”
You rolls your eyes, but can’t stop the flicker of something—danger, excitement, anticipation—from flashing through you. The usual defiance is still there, but now it has a slight edge. It’s hard not to feel compelled by his power, and you pick up a card that has his number on it, and you call.
Two months. Thats how long you've been something to Harvey Dent.
Since that night you called him, you've seen Harvey Dent everyday for two months. You either saw him at the club, he never missed out on watching you sing, or at your apartment, or he'd wisk you away for a candle light dinner. The only exception of his constant attention was the two weeks you were sick, and even then he called you and sent you flowers.
Thats why when he started getting distant it hurt, you were in love with him.
Like a fool, you fell for Harvey "Two-Face" Dent.
You wrote songs for him, stayed up on the phone talking to him, baked him cookies and cakes, you didn't care about his scars or his mood swings, you put up with his sometimes hurtful comments because you could feel his love for you.
It was in the little things. Little displays of affection like knowing how you liked your coffee, your favorite fruit, how he would play your favorite movie whenever you were down and watch stupid rom-coms all night, without complaint. How he would laugh at all your stupid jokes and help you with the dishes.
Everything changed when Selina dropped a bombshell. You were just finishing your shift at the Pink Pony when Selina came up to you, leaning against the bar, a rare seriousness in her voice.
“I'm sorry. I didn't want to have to tell you this” Selina said, looking at you with eyes full of love and concern. “But I think you need to know . You’re not the only one Harvey’s been after.”
You froze, heart dropping to your feet. “What are you talking about?” You asked, chuckling at the unfunny joke, Harvey would never. He loves you.
Selina’s gaze shifted toward the back of the club, where Tiffany fucking Wayne, was standing at the bar with Harvey. The way she leaned into him, the flirtatious, familiar touch on his arm, made your heart drop. That was all the proof you needed.
“When you lost your voice last month, Tiffany came here every night, working him over. She’s been coming in, feeling him, and leaving with him. She’s been playing him like a violin. And he's been two-timing you.”
Your stomach twisted. Tiffany. Your “sister”, the girl who always took everything from you, the girl who you cried to him about, who you told him stole everything from you, stole him too. The image of Tiffany and Harvey together was enough to break something inside you.
Your voice cracked. “I... he... he was mine.”
Selina raised an eyebrow, sympathy in her eyes. “I’m sorry. You know Harvey’s not the only one she’s after. She’s always tried to steal everything from you. She’s always been good at that.”
It hit you harder than you wanted to admit. Tiffany had taken Harvey, too. she wasn’t stealing brothers or sisters from you; she was taking the one place where you had ever felt wanted.
He loved you, at some point, you were sure. But could love be so easily swayed?
Before she came and stole him like she stole everything else in your life, Harvey Dent loved you
In the two weeks you were sick, Tiffany Maverick stole the one man who loved you.
The next night at the club, the weight of Selina’s words followed you like a shadow. You stepped onto the stage, singing as best as you could, but the usual thrill was gone. Tiffany was there again, standing too close to Harvey. Every laugh they shared, every touch, was like a knife to your chest.
You couldn’t help but notice how Harvey had changed. The way he looked at you now felt different—distant, colder. There was no longer that spark of attraction, just the lingering sense that something had shifted. That someone else had taken hyourplace.
Tiffany had won. Again.
You finished your set and stepped off the stage, throat tight. You caught Harvey’s eye as he turned toward you, but there was no warmth or love in his gaze, like there was two weeks ago, only disappointment. He was looking at you like you were just another face in the crowd.
You couldn’t do it anymore. You couldn’t stay. It wasn’t just the loss of Harvey—it was the realization that Tiffany had taken your spot in their world.
Her betrayal felt too familiar, like an old wound that never healed. It wasn't enough for her to have your family, she wanted everything.
That night you quit the club and broke your lease to your apartment. You wouldn't let Tiffany or Two Face run you out of Gotham, out of your city, but you couldn't stay where you and him shared all your memories.
You would forget about him. You would never mention Harvey Dent again, you would never even think of him again. Nor would you acknowledge that he was the first man that loved you. Harvey Dent did not exist anymore.
#yandere batfam#yandere dc#yandere batman#yandere jason todd#yandere damian wayne#yandere tim drake#yandere x reader#yandere bruce wayne#yandere bruce wayne x reader#yandere dick grayson#yandere harvey dent
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Can I write more? Physically? Probably. Write angst? I had a bad day, so I don't think I have that in me at the moment. Have some hope, motherfucker.
John was going to kill himself for real this time. He'd summoned a teenager! Not a protector spirit who looked like a teen to get people to trust him, not a trickster spirit who looked like a teen to get people to underestimate him, but the actual ghost of a teenager who probably hadn't died that long ago given the outfit he was in. He'd summoned a kid and ordered him to fight a god. John just killed another kid.
John could feel it. The magical contract wrapped around his heart as thick as it had wrapped around Phantom and through it he felt Phantom failing to keep his end of the contract and fading from existence. There was a flash of light and John was certain he'd see the chain fall to dust, still visible and solid since the ghost king wanted John to watch as Pariah crushed a child in his hands. But it didn't.
"What's this!" Pariah suddenly shouted and John looked to see - everyone was back! John looked and saw Wonder Woman with Fright Knight tied up in her magic lasso under her foot and his sword held high above her head, glowing with energy as she released everyone it had touched. Phantom had distracted Pariah enough for Diana to beat Fright Knight!
Pariah snarled at her and, thank the stars, threw Phantom aside to pick up his sword and fight the entire Justice League. Sure, some of their returned team mates looked worse for wear, but with them back and the Fright Knight handled, it wasn't hopeless. Not for them anyway.
John wasn't paying much attention to the fight other than to get soldiers out of his way and stay out of the way of the big hitters now that they were back. He got to the rubble Phantom had made with that screaming attack of his. The ground was unstable and whatever buildings stood around him wouldn't be standing for long. He followed the softly glowing chain that was quickly dimming. He wasn't sure if that's because Pariah wasn't powering it anymore or if it was because Phantom was...
The chain vanished and left John frantically looking around for the spirit. He couldn't see him or sense him or... John felt his throat close up and his tongue go heavy. As he tried to push the burning of tears from his eyes, he caught sight of something. He stumbled around the ruins and found someone. Short and thin, wearing torn up jeans and someone had written "Fenterd Stinks" on the back of their white shirt in marker.
They looked like a civilian. Civilian's shouldn't have been there, they'd been evacuated hours ago, and no one would have been stupid enough to stick around after the Justice League got there. Even the paparazzi had fucked off to safety.
But as John got closer he could slowly start to feel it. Something was off about them. It was him, it was Phantom! John could sense it was him. He could feel the spirit hiding inside... no that wasn't right, this was something else. He had the same face in different colors, maybe rounder ears and not as many visible freckles, but it was the same and John could figure it out later.
John pressed his hand into the kid's neck and found a painfully slow pulse, his breathing was shallow and harsh. "Alright kid, new deal." John said and re-positioned the kid in his arms. "If you die, I die too. But if you live, you tell me how you beat this guy last time and let me take care of the rest."
John moved his hand slightly, making Phantom - or at least the body he was in - nod in agreement. John waited, and as death didn't over take him, he sighed in relief. This was salvageable.
After another moment, the kid opened his eyes and looked dazed. "What happ-"
"Hey kid, sorry, but we're still in the middle of things." John said, trying to sound urgent but not scare the kid. It didn't work. His eyes went wide and his body went tense. "How was Pariah beat before?"
The kid swallowed and his voice was scratchy. "I - I had a battle suit, my parents made it, and it gave whoever was inside it a hundred times more power, but it drained them like a battery. I was able to get Pariah back in his Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, but I - I almost died. The suit almost killed me."
"Alright." John nodded and sighed to reset his thoughts. "First thing's first, get you to safety."
Vaguely inspired by that one post where Danny gets summoned by the JL and keeps throwing his shoes and stuff at them bc HE might not be able to leave the summoning circle but his clothes sure can!
I think the twist for that was that the circle doesnt effect him at all because hes a halfa and he was just goofing with the JL.
But imagine if the summoning and containment WORKED.
Like, he gets summoned and its startling, but once he realizes hes been summoned hes mostly annoyed.
Its a school night! He has work to do! Sure he wasnt DOING it, but it was still a possibility!
And hes trying to banter with the JL. Which for him just means being vaguely-obnoxious-but-somewhat-charming.
But then he tries to leave.
Maybe hes worried about his friends reaction to seeing him disappear.
Maybe the JL are saying some anti ghost/demon/whatever they think he is nonsense.
Maybe he changed his mind about doing that homework.
But either way, it doesnt work.
He drags his hand along the edge of the spell. It doesnt give, and he realizes hes not sure what this spell is supposed to do.
Its all along the floor beneth him, he cant fly through the floor.
He tries to get away from the walls and floor, worried whatever spell makes up the container can be triggered to hurt him or brainwash him or SOMETHING.
Its not his best guest, but he has never been summoned before, at least not with this type of barrier, and he doesnt know what to expect.
He barely gets a few feet off the ground when he hits the spells invisible roof.
And he is trapped.
And now this fourteen year old child is caged in a room with clearly dangerous adult strangers.
After hes been more or less kidnapped.
He’s suddenly regretting insulting them.
And its not his first time beimg kidnapped. Or his first time being in danger in general (obviously).
but its usually some ghost! Or Vlad “Loser, I hardly know her!” Masters!
Both of whom explain literally everything they plan in long ass evil monologues! It usually takes danny five minutes tops to learn their entire life story Dr Doofenshmirtz style!
He knows most of them personally! They hang out sometimes! Heck! even the local ghost hunters are either literally related to him or someone he’s dated!
He knows their powersets, their strengths, their weaknesses.
Most importantly, he knows their goals
But now hes trapped. In a room of clearly superpowerd strangers. With magical abilities strong enough to trap him for real.
And has no idea what they want
And Danny just freezes up
This could be super angsty if the JL were told that he was evil and think his panic + young features are only done to manipulate them.
You can also add angst with a language barrier/translation issue
I imagine the JL would be trying to get information about ghosts/ are trying to get someone to fight a villain they can’t defeat
Its going to scare the shit out of Danny either way- like imagine fourteen year old you gets kidnapped by strangers and they start asking you about your weaknesses or say they will only let you out if you agree to fight this monster.
And if Danny doesnt know this villain or how tf hes going to fight them he might feel like hes being sent off to get his ass kicked.
I can just imagine Danny being told he has to fight this supervillain and being like “…if i like..die…trying to fight this guy…what are you going to do with my body? Like will you send me home? Cause my family will freak if my corpse is teleported into the living room”
JL would not be happy about any of his responses.
Im begging someone to write this please have a nice day
#dpxdc#danny phantom#justice league#danny fenton#john constantine#fanfic#fic prompt#I don't mean to swear at you#but “have some hope motherfucker” followed by “john was going to kill himself” is funny to me
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She got the Ruby ๋࣭ ⭑🎸⊹ ࣪ ˖
“No way. I never knew how much I needed this kind of chaos until you showed up.” ᝰ.ᐟ
Genre: Slowburn, Fluff
AU: University AU
Pairing: Music Major!Woozi x Afab!Reader
Warnings: None
Synopsis: Jihoon had never been one for romance or dating—no one had ever truly caught his eye. But everything changed when he saw you bathed in the glow of red light at Soonyoung’s party, your ruby lips captivating him and making his heart race like never before. Why could you, a stranger, leave him so utterly spellbound?
Note: User rubyuji finally publishing a fic about her bias?! LMAO to be completely honest, this fic had been in my google docs for so long that I'm surprised it made it out despite the writer's block. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it! Don't forget to like + reblog as form of support!
W.C: 8.3k
Dating was never an option for someone in Jihoon’s league. His packed schedule aside, he barely left the house most of the time. Whenever his friends—emphasis on tried—attempted to introduce him to someone, the feedback was always the same: he was either too busy or seemed completely uninterested.
It wasn’t entirely his fault, though. Jihoon had never quite found his footing in the dating world. Either the idea simply hadn’t appealed to him, or the person his friends introduced was too different for him to find common ground.
“Oh, come on! We’ve introduced you to, like, six people already, and you didn’t like any of them! You’re hopeless, Jihoon,” Soonyoung whined, dramatically flopping onto the couch beside his friend.
Jihoon barely spared him a glance, rolling his eyes as his fingers continued to move across the keyboard.
Soonyoung was a great friend—Jihoon couldn’t deny that. Even if he didn’t always show it, he cared about the guy a lot. But sometimes, Soonyoung could be a handful. His intentions were always good, sure, but Jihoon wasn’t ready to dive into the complicated world of relationships or love. Not now, not when all he could focus on was graduating, as if his entire life depended on it.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but being in a relationship is the least of my worries right now,” Jihoon sighed, closing his laptop with a faint click.
As if on cue, his other friend, Wonwoo, emerged from Jihoon’s room, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed after a long nap.
“You barely leave the house and hole up here like a damn hermit. You should take some time to relax once in a while, you know?” he quipped, leaning against the doorframe.
Jihoon rubbed his temples, his brows knitting together in mild frustration. He knew his friends meant well, but their constant prodding was starting to feel like a broken record.
Soonyoung suddenly gasped, drawing curious looks from the other two men. “How about this? We’re heading to my frat tonight—I’ve got a party planned. Maybe Jihoon could find someone to mingle with. It wouldn’t hurt, right? And if you end up hating it or don’t meet anyone, you can leave. No pressure.”
Jihoon’s mouth fell open like a fish out of water at Soonyoung’s suggestion.
He didn’t mind parties per se, but Soonyoung’s events were... something else. Case in point: Soonyoung had once woken up on the frat’s lawn after one of his infamous ragers and called Jihoon to help clean up the trashed house. But that was a story for another day.
Still, Jihoon found himself considering the idea. He hadn’t left his apartment in nearly a week, and after working nonstop, a change of scenery might not be the worst thing in the world.
Jihoon wasn’t a prude—far from it. He simply preferred to conserve his energy and steer clear of activities that drained him too much.
It was just part of his nature, and honestly, one of the reasons he couldn’t see himself dating someone too outgoing or high-energy. Still, this party might be an opportunity to step outside his usual bubble and meet someone new—someone who wasn’t just a direct connection to his friends.
“I’ll go this once, I guess. But if it’s a bust, I’m leaving immediately, like we agreed,” Jihoon sighed, his tone resigned.
From the kitchen, he heard the unmistakable sound of Wonwoo spitting out his water in shock, while Soonyoung erupted into cheers, dancing around the room like he’d just won the lottery.
Jihoon rolled his eyes but knew he couldn’t show up looking like a mess. If he was going to meet someone, he might as well make himself look presentable.
On the other hand, you weren’t exactly a fan of the party scene either. So why were you at Junhui’s frat, holding a red Solo cup, half-listening to Mingyu and Seokmin discuss some new workout Mingyu had discovered?
“Hey, are you even listening to me?” Mingyu huffed, snapping you out of your daze with an exasperated look.
You smirked, taking a sip from your cup. “Mingyu, you’re the biggest gym rat I know—besides Chan and Seungcheol. And Seok, don’t think you’re safe either. I’m not even surprised you found another workout to torture us with next week at the gym.”
Mingyu groaned dramatically while Seokmin burst out laughing at your comment. Shaking your head, you got up from your spot on the couch.
“Alright, I’m gonna go look for Saerom,” you announced, giving them a playful wave before weaving through the party crowd.
“If you see Minghao, let him know I’m looking for him,” Mingyu called after you. You gave a casual two-finger salute in response before heading to the kitchen, relishing the sudden drop in noise and the smaller crowd.
Saerom was leaning against the counter, deep in conversation with Jihyo. When they spotted you, both waved you over.
“Hey, have you guys seen Minghao anywhere?” you asked as you joined them.
Jihyo shrugged, and Saerom shook her head. “Mingyu’s looking for him, right? Well, no sign of him yet,” Saerom replied.
“Figures,” you chuckled. “Also, can you believe the party’s host is MIA? Imagine Soonyoung being late to one of his own ragers for once. That’s wild.”
Saerom laughed as she refilled your cup, the three of you slipping easily back into lighthearted conversation.
Before your friends can give out another remark, you guys hear Soonyoung’s boisterous laughter coming from the living room. “Looks like I spoke too soon?” You pout in faux disappointment.
“Hey, isn’t that Lee Jihoon? Isn’t he in your class, Rom?” Jihyo pointed out, her finger directed toward the familiar face standing beside Seungcheol. Your brows raised in surprise.
As far as you know, Jihoon, along with Seungcheol, Wonwoo, and Mingyu, lived off-campus. So seeing him here was unusual—he was practically an anomaly in these parties, appearing only on rare occasions.
“That’s crazy, he’s actually at a party right now,” Saerom giggled. “We should go over to Soonyoung and see what’s up.”
You found yourself following your friends without much thought, a sudden interest in Jihoon sparking inside you.
He looks insanely good in that black button-up, and those forearms— The thought immediately made you snap back to reality, shaking your head slightly as you tried to regain focus.
“Y/N! Saerom, Jihyo! Looks like you made it too,” Soonyoung laughed, his voice bright as he spotted the three of you. Your friends rolled their eyes playfully, clearly used to Soonyoung’s usual antics.
“Yeah, we know she’s your favorite,” Jihyo teased, raising an eyebrow. “But seriously, how did you manage to convince THE Lee Jihoon to come to one of your wild frat parties?”
Soonyoung shrugged casually, glancing over at Jihoon, who was deep in conversation with Wonwoo and Junhui across the room.
“I don’t know. We talked about the party a while ago when we were at his place. I mentioned it, and he’s been holed up in his apartment all week, so I thought maybe he could use a break,” Soonyoung explained, reaching for a random Solo cup Jeonghan handed him, the latter seamlessly inserting himself into the conversation.
“We also kinda wanted him to meet someone, but... that’s out of the question for now.” Soonyoung almost sighed as he said this, clearly not expecting much.
Your friends laughed at his comment, their attention drifting back to the conversation, leaving you free to let your gaze wander. It landed on Jihoon, just as it had moments ago.
You couldn’t deny it—Jihoon was undeniably attractive, and he was definitely your type. But you had no idea how to approach him, especially since you’d barely exchanged a word with the guy.
“Interested in Jihoon, huh? Can’t blame you. Soonyoung, Cheol, and practically everyone else has been on his case about getting a girlfriend—or at least starting to date someone,” Chan suddenly appeared beside you, causing you to jump in surprise. You hit his shoulder playfully, and he chuckled.
“I’ve barely spoken to him,” you sighed dramatically. “The only other time I’ve seen him was at Mingyu’s birthday, and the most we exchanged was him passing me a plate and me saying ‘thank you.’ I highly doubt he remembers that, considering he barely even looked at me.”
Chan laughed again, but this time he grabbed your arm and started pulling you toward the dance floor as the music grew louder and the crowd tipsier.
“Fine, take a moment to think about it. But for now, let’s dance! Give it your all—you didn’t take all of Soonyoung’s and my classes for nothing, right?” Chan yelled over the music, his grin wide.
You couldn’t help but laugh as Chan spun you into a playful dance battle, challenging you to keep up. Just then, the lights suddenly flickered off, and Junhui’s makeshift spotlights sprang to life, bathing the room in a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors.
While you and Chan lost yourselves to the beat, Jihoon made his way over to where Jeonghan, Wonwoo, and Minghao were lounging, the latter two likely too lazy to join the chaos on the dance floor. He plopped down onto the beanbag next to Jeonghan, who glanced at him with mild curiosity.
“I didn’t expect to see you here. What made you change your mind?” Jeonghan asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jihoon shrugged casually, taking a sip from his Solo cup filled with Coke Zero. He wasn’t much of a drinker, so he had opted out of anything stronger.
“Soonyoung and Seungcheol insisted I needed to get out of the apartment and let loose a bit. I’d been holed up there all week, just going back and forth between home, university, and the gym, so I figured I’d give it a shot,” Jihoon explained, his gaze drifting to the dance floor.
His eyes found Mingyu in the middle of the dance circle before flitting over to you.
As you danced alongside Chan, Jihoon’s eyes lingered on you, captivated by your movements. Seokmin and Seungkwan were in the middle of their own dance battle nearby, but Jihoon couldn’t tear his focus away from you.
You looked... familiar. He was sure you had been at Mingyu’s birthday party, and he had seen you with Soonyoung around campus, but he never really paid much attention until now.
It was almost as if everything slowed down for Jihoon at that moment. He took in every detail—how you looked so effortlessly good while dancing, how the red light seemed to make you glow. Red was his favorite color, and seeing the hue reflected in the lipstick on your lips only made things worse as he tried to hide how drawn to you he felt.
“Dude, why are you so thirsty?” Soonyoung’s voice snapped Jihoon out of his daze, and he immediately felt heat rush to his face. Wonwoo laughed, clearly noticing Jihoon’s flushed ears, while Minghao tried to suppress a smile.
Jihoon was finally making progress in his love life, and his friends couldn’t be more proud of him for stepping out of his shell.
“Finally, someone’s caught your attention,” Soonyoung teased, his grin widening. “Do you want me to bring Y/N over?”
Soonyoung’s plan was falling into place perfectly. The fact that Jihoon was showing interest in you—of all people—was just ideal.
You were everything Jihoon needed. Well, almost. You weren’t big on the party scene and preferred staying in, though you did go out more often than him if invited by the right people (the ‘right people’ being Mingyu).
You had a personality that could easily draw people in, and on top of that, you were the full package: pretty, smart, and kind. But being as perfect as you were also meant that you had no shortage of admirers.
“You know, Y/N’s great. She’s practically Seungcheol’s other half,” Jeonghan said, clapping his hands enthusiastically.
Everyone around them was practically buzzing with excitement, seeing Jihoon finally step out of his comfort zone. Honestly, Jihoon felt a strange surge of courage; for once, he was ready to take a risk.
“I mean, if she’s that amazing, why not? But how do I even approach her?” Jihoon asked, glancing over again. This time, he saw you dancing with Mingyu, your smile outshining every light in the room.
“Y/N’s laid-back. She can talk to anyone if you just let her be herself,” Wonwoo chimed in. “She’s a bit of a yapper, but in the best way possible—everyone feels comfortable around her.”
Jihoon didn’t get a chance to respond because, just then, you and Mingyu started making your way toward their group, which set off an eruption of teasing from all sides.
You waved at the guys before gently ushering Mingyu off to have fun with the others, then settled on the couch beside Wonwoo. It just so happened to be the seat directly across from Jihoon.
“Y/N! You’re not really into the party scene. What made you come?” Soonyoung called out loudly. You shot him a questioning glance and laughed.
He knew you enjoyed a party every now and then, but then your eyes caught sight of Jihoon sitting next to him, and suddenly, you understood.
“You know I enjoy the occasional party, Soonyoung. Today’s no different—I just wanted to let loose a bit,” you replied, leaning forward on the couch to grab an empty red cup from the table. You filled it with whatever concoction was in the bowl nearby.
“Is this spiked, by the way? Don’t wanna end up drugged or anything,” you joked, raising an eyebrow. Wonwoo shook his head to signal that it was safe and that you trusted his judgment.
“Oh, and Y/N,” Jeonghan chimed in, “Jihoon here actually wanted to talk to you. Why don’t you two take a moment?”
A smile tugged at your lips as you realized this was your chance. Chan’s words echoed in your mind—a lot of people sought after you, but no one had ever really stood out—until now.
Jihoon caught your attention in a way that felt different, and with a little liquid courage in your system, you felt ready to take that first step. You were grateful for the alcohol, knowing that without it, you might’ve been a complete mess by now.
“Well, we’ll leave you two alone then,” Jeonghan smirked, causing you to flush. You noticed Jihoon looked just as flustered as your friends began to leave the room one by one.
An awkward silence settled between you, and you decided to make the first move, choosing to go with the flow.
After all, what did you have to lose—other than your dignity if Jihoon didn’t respond?
“I take it you’re not the most sociable type? Or a huge partygoer?” you chuckled awkwardly.
Jihoon chuckled too, nodding as he noticed your flustered demeanor. Just moments ago, you had seemed so confident, but now seeing you shy around him gave him a strange sense of comfort.
He wasn’t used to many women approaching him, especially since he had no experience in the dating scene. Soonyoung and Seungcheol had quite literally thrown him into the deep end.
Jihoon scratched the back of his neck nervously, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since the awkward silence.
"I guess you could say that," he said, his voice soft but a bit unsure.
"I’m more of a quiet type, not really into the whole party scene. But Soonyoung and Seungcheol… they’ve been pushing me to get out more. I’m not used to this kind of thing."
He gave you a small, sheepish smile, as if trying to lighten the moment. There was a warmth in his expression, a vulnerability that surprised you. It made you feel like you weren’t the only one navigating uncharted waters.
You couldn’t help but smile back, your own nervousness easing a little. "I get it. I’m not really a party person either," you replied with a chuckle.
"I like the idea of letting loose, but it always seems a bit overwhelming. I’m more of the 'quiet drink in the corner' type myself."
Jihoon laughed softly at that, the tension between you both melting away just a little bit more. It was strange, but in that moment, you both seemed to find common ground in your shared discomfort.
There was something about the way Jihoon looked at you now, something less guarded, as if he was starting to feel more comfortable.
"Yeah, I get what you mean," he said, his tone a little more relaxed.
"I’d rather be at home, with my laptop and music. At least there, I don’t have to deal with—" He paused for a moment, glancing around the chaotic party. "All this."
You laughed, nodding in agreement. "Exactly. There’s something peaceful about just being at home, away from all the noise. But hey, at least we’re both getting out, right?"
"True," Jihoon said with a smile that made your heart flutter. "I guess we’re both stepping out of our comfort zones."
You looked around for a moment, the buzz of the party now seeming a little more tolerable. "I wouldn’t say I’m exactly ‘stepping out’—more like ‘dragged out’," you teased, raising an eyebrow.
Jihoon chuckled at that, and you noticed how his eyes lingered on you for just a moment longer than usual.
The playful banter seemed to ease the nerves you were both feeling. It was refreshing to talk to someone who understood that sometimes, a quiet escape was more appealing than all the loud distractions in the world.
As if to prove his point, Jihoon glanced toward the dance floor, where his friends were causing even more chaos, and let out a long, exaggerated sigh.
"I swear, they get louder every time. I feel like I might go deaf just by being around them."
You laughed at that, and before you knew it, you were both talking more comfortably, sharing little details about yourselves. You were beginning to realize that maybe, just maybe, this night wasn’t as bad as you had originally thought.
"By the way," Jihoon said after a beat, suddenly looking a little hesitant again.
"I hope I’m not being too forward, but… if you’re not busy later, maybe we could grab a drink or something? I mean, I know this place is kind of… well, loud, but it could be nice to talk more, you know?"
Your heart skipped a beat at the offer, and you tried to hide your surprise with a smile. "Yeah," you replied, a little more confidently than you felt. "I’d like that."
The moment hung between you two, and for the first time that night, the noise of the party seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of quiet connection.
The next day, you found yourself sitting with Mingyu and Seungkwan at a quiet café, the bright morning sun filtering through the windows.
You had been eager to tell Mingyu about your interaction with Jihoon the night before, especially after how much your friends had teased you about it.
Seungkwan, ever the curious one, was also there, sipping his coffee with a raised eyebrow, clearly interested in hearing what had happened.
"So," Mingyu started, leaning forward with a grin.
"How was last night? Did you end up talking to Jihoon like you said you would?" He shot you a knowing look, clearly trying not to make it too obvious that he was playing matchmaker in his own way.
You chuckled, feeling a bit sheepish at the memory.
"Yeah, we actually did talk. I mean, it wasn’t anything super exciting or dramatic, but we had a decent conversation. He's... surprisingly easy to talk to, you know?"
Seungkwan raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "I thought Jihoon was like the silent, brooding type. What did you guys even talk about?"
You shrugged, a smile playing at your lips as you recalled the night.
"We mostly talked about how neither of us are really into the party scene. We ended up bonding over how much we’d rather stay home than deal with all the noise. It was actually kind of nice, just... quiet, you know?" You caught Mingyu’s knowing smirk and rolled your eyes.
"Stop it. I’m just saying we connected a little more than I expected."
Mingyu and Seungkwan exchanged a glance, and Seungkwan raised his cup in a mock toast. "Well, looks like you’re in the clear then. It’s not every day someone gets Jihoon out of his shell."
"Right?" You laughed, trying not to let your excitement show too much. "I didn’t expect it either. But I guess he’s not as intimidating as I thought."
Just as Seungkwan was about to say something else, your phone buzzed on the table. You grabbed it, expecting a random message, but when you saw the name on the screen, your heart skipped a beat.
It was Jihoon.
Hey, it’s Jihoon. I got your number from Cheol. Would you be free to hang out after your classes are done today?
You couldn’t help but smile as you read the message. Your friends were watching you closely, no doubt noticing the shift in your demeanor.
"You okay there, Y/n?" Mingyu asked, a teasing grin on his face. "Something got you smiling like that?"
You bit your lip, quickly typing out a reply, trying not to let your excitement show too much. Sure, I’d like that. I finish class around 4. How about then?
As you hit send, you glanced up at your friends. Seungkwan was grinning widely, clearly having caught onto what was happening. "Well, well, well," he said, his voice dripping with mischief. "Looks like someone’s got a date on their hands."
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips.
"We’re just hanging out," you said, trying to play it cool. "But yeah, I guess we’ll see how it goes."
Mingyu raised his cup again, his grin widening. "You know, I always knew Jihoon had it in him. I’m just glad someone finally got him to make a move. Let’s see where this goes."
You couldn’t help but feel a little giddy at the thought. Jihoon had actually asked you to hang out. After everything that had happened last night, this felt like the beginning of something new—and you were more than curious to see where it would lead.
The afternoon passed in a blur, and as soon as your last class ended, you hurriedly made your way back to your apartment to get ready for your date with Jihoon. You were a bit nervous but also excited—this was a new experience for both of you, and the idea of spending time together in a more intimate setting had you feeling hopeful.
As you walked into your apartment, you were greeted by the sound of music blaring from the living room. Yerin, your roommate, was lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone.
“Whoa, slow down there!” Yerin called out with a teasing grin as she looked up from her phone. “A date tonight? Are you rushing to see him or something?” She raised an eyebrow and put down her phone, clearly enjoying the playful jab.
You froze for a second, a flush creeping up your neck. “I’m not rushing! I just... want to look good, okay?” You quickly grabbed your clothes for the evening from your closet, trying to brush off Yerin’s teasing.
Yerin sat up on the couch and leaned forward with a sly smile.
“Uh-huh, sure. You know, I was starting to wonder if Jihoon was actually real or if he was just a figment of your imagination. But now it looks like you’re actually getting ready for him.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Shut up, Yerin. I’m just trying to make sure everything goes well tonight.”
Yerin laughed, crossing her arms. “I’ll be here, waiting to hear all the details when you get back! I’m expecting the full scoop.”
You quickly finished getting ready, making sure to choose a stylish but comfortable outfit. You knew Jihoon wasn’t exactly the flashy type, so you opted for something that felt both casual and a little special.
Once you were done, you grabbed your bag and walked out of your room. As you stepped out into the living room, Yerin was still lounging on the couch, her eyes glinting with mischief.
“I’m serious, I want the full report later,” she called as you made your way to the door. “Have fun, and don’t forget to text me when you’re on your way back!”
You chuckled, throwing her a playful wave before stepping out the door.
When you arrived at the restaurant, Jihoon was already waiting for you outside. He looked a little nervous but also endearingly handsome, standing there in a smart button-up and dark jeans. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and his expression softened into a smile.
“Hey,” Jihoon greeted, stepping forward. “I hope this place is okay. I figured it might be more... private for our first time hanging out like this.”
You smiled back, feeling a surge of affection for how thoughtful he was. “It looks perfect. Very cozy, just what I needed after a long day.” You gently bumped your shoulder against his as you greeted him.
Jihoon seemed to hesitate for a moment, then reached into his bag and pulled out a small bouquet of red roses. Your heart skipped a beat as he offered them to you, his cheeks turning slightly pink.
“I... I thought these might brighten your day.”
You were momentarily taken aback by the gesture. Jihoon wasn’t the most outwardly romantic person, but the red roses made it clear how much he was putting himself into this. “Jihoon, these are beautiful. Thank you,” you said, your voice softer than usual.
“Of course,” Jihoon mumbled, his ears tinged with pink. “I wanted to make tonight a little special.”
You took the flowers, your heartwarming at the gesture. "You definitely did."
Jihoon led you into the restaurant, a sleek, modern spot known for its great ambiance and exquisite food. As you stepped inside, the dim lighting, soft music, and cozy atmosphere made it feel like the perfect setting for a first date. You quickly spotted the table he had reserved, a secluded spot with a view of the rest of the restaurant.
You sat down, and for a moment, there was a brief, awkward silence.
"So," you started, trying to ease the tension, "you’ve clearly got some taste. This place is nice."
Jihoon chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I actually googled a few places... and picked one that looked like it wouldn't make me look too much like a rookie. Not that I’m exactly experienced in this stuff," he admitted with a sheepish smile.
You couldn’t help but smile at his honesty. "Don’t worry, Jihoon. I’m definitely not an expert either. We’re both figuring this out, right?"
Jihoon nodded, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and nervousness.
"Yeah, we’re in this together."
The waiter approached, and after a brief moment of looking over the menu, you and Jihoon placed your orders. As the waiter left, Jihoon met your gaze again, his expression softening.
"So," he said, leaning in a little, his tone quieter now, "what’s been keeping you busy lately? Besides... school, obviously."
You laughed softly, feeling more comfortable now that the initial awkwardness had passed. "Honestly? Between classes and spending time with friends, I’ve just been trying to make some time for myself. It’s been a lot of balancing everything, you know?"
Jihoon nodded, his eyes reflecting a deeper understanding.
"Yeah, I get that. I’ve been stuck in my routine lately, just going to class, the gym, and back home. It feels like the same thing every day, so I figured... maybe it was time to break out of that a little."
You smiled, a soft laugh escaping you. "Well, you definitely made the right decision tonight. It’s nice to step out of the routine every once in a while."
Jihoon smiled back, his gaze lingering on you longer than usual. "Yeah. And I’m glad it’s with you."
The words hung in the air between you, but instead of making things feel heavy, they only added to the warmth between you both. Just then, the waiter arrived with your drinks, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics as the evening progressed.
As the weeks passed, Jihoon and you began to fall into a comfortable routine.
After each of your classes, you’d find yourself grabbing a quick bite to eat at the diner near campus, or sometimes just walking home together, talking about everything from random observations to deeper conversations about life.
It had started off a bit awkward, but now, it felt effortless, like you had both found something meaningful in the mundane moments.
Jihoon was starting to appreciate the routine. It wasn’t something that had ever appealed to him before—he’d always been the kind to keep to himself, going through the motions of class, gym, and home without seeking much beyond that. But with you, he found himself looking forward to these little moments.
He loved hearing about your day, even the small things you thought were unimportant. Your laughter became a highlight of his afternoon, and as silly as it might’ve sounded, he loved walking beside you, his hand brushing against yours as you talked.
One particular day, after a long class, Jihoon met you outside the building, your usual spot. His eyes softened when he saw you, and despite the crowds, he only had eyes for you. You were wearing a loose sweater and jeans, your hair tucked into a messy bun, looking effortlessly cute.
“Hey, ready to go?” Jihoon asked, offering you a small smile. You nodded, pulling your bag over your shoulder.
“Yeah, just finished my last lecture. Let’s get food, I’m starving.”
“Same here,” Jihoon replied, glancing down at his phone. “How about that diner? I’m craving their fries today.”
You laughed, nudging him with your shoulder as the two of you started walking. “You and your fries. But sure, that works for me.”
The walk to the diner was filled with comfortable conversation, the two of you easily slipping into familiar banter.
As you entered the diner, you found your usual booth by the window and sat down, already chatting about how your day had gone. Jihoon, for the first time in a while, felt completely at ease.
Then as you two dug into your food, Jihoon noticed something he hadn’t before—how he found himself looking forward to this part of his day.
He was actually looking forward to seeing you, to sharing these moments. And it wasn’t just about the food or the walk anymore; it was about spending time with you.
Later that week, Soonyoung, who had been hanging out with Jihoon more recently, couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift in his friend’s behavior.
Jihoon, who used to brush off talks about relationships or showing any kind of emotion, had been smiling more, his mood noticeably lighter. Soonyoung wasn’t exactly one to shy away from calling things as they were, and it didn’t take long for him to notice what was happening.
“Okay, what’s going on with you?” Soonyoung asked one day, leaning against the doorframe of Jihoon’s room, a teasing smile on his face.
Jihoon, who had been lounging on his bed with his laptop open, looked up in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“You’re different,” Soonyoung said, crossing his arms. “You’re actually smiling. You’re not as... grumpy anymore. Did you get a new pet or something?”
Jihoon chuckled, shaking his head. “No, no new pet. Just... you know. Life’s good.”
Soonyoung raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk forming. “Uh-huh. So, it’s ‘life’s good,’ huh? Is this about Y/n?”
Jihoon froze for a second, his eyes widening. He wasn’t exactly trying to keep things a secret, but Soonyoung was quick to catch on. “What?” Jihoon tried to brush it off, but it was no use.
“I knew it,” Soonyoung said, grinning. “You’ve got a thing for her, don’t you?”
Jihoon let out a frustrated sigh, but a soft smile tugged at his lips. “It’s not like that. We’ve just been hanging out a lot lately. I’m not sure what’s going on.”
“Oh, please,” Soonyoung laughed, throwing himself onto Jihoon’s bed.
“I’ve known you long enough to tell when you’re crushing on someone. You’ve been acting differently, Jihoon. You actually care about your schedule now. You used to skip meals like it was nothing, but now I see you going to class early, and I even saw you texting Y/n before your last lecture yesterday.”
Jihoon felt his cheeks heat up. “Okay, okay, you got me. But it’s not a big deal.”
Soonyoung sat up, his grin never fading. “You’re so obvious, man. You’re just making it worse by trying to act like it’s nothing. Just admit it: you like her.”
Jihoon sighed but couldn’t help the smile that broke out across his face.
“Fine, I like her. Happy now?”
Soonyoung let out a dramatic gasp. “I knew it! Jihoon’s got a crush! You two are so cute. But seriously, don’t mess it up.”
Jihoon ran a hand through his hair, the smile still on his face. “I’m trying not to. It’s just... I’ve never really done this before, you know?”
Soonyoung patted Jihoon’s back. “It’s all good. Just take it easy. You’re doing fine. Just keep being yourself.”
As the conversation ended, Jihoon found himself thinking about how much he had changed over the past few weeks.
He wasn’t just going through the motions anymore; he was actually living, enjoying these moments with you. And he couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—there was something more to explore between the two of you.
It was a Friday night, and you were at your apartment with Yerin and Jennie, sprawled across your couch with snacks, blankets, and plenty of gossip.
The three of you had been best friends for what felt like forever, and sleepovers were a tradition. You’d all gathered to catch up, share some laughs, and spill some tea—this time, about your not-so-secret crush.
Yerin was curled up with her phone, scrolling through TikTok, while Jennie, ever the gossip queen, was snuggled under a blanket beside you, eagerly waiting for you to spill the details.
“So,” Jennie said, raising an eyebrow and giving you a mischievous smile. “How’s Jihoon? Been seeing each other a lot lately?”
You paused for a moment, unsure if you were ready to admit just how much you liked him yet. But you knew your best friends well, and there was no point in holding back.
They’d seen you go through a million crushes, and they weren’t about to let you keep this one under wraps for long.
“I mean…” you began, glancing at Yerin for support, “It’s been nice, really nice. We’ve been hanging out a lot lately—like, almost every day after class.”
Jennie’s eyes immediately widened. “Wait, what? Every day? Are you telling me that you two have become, like, regulars at that diner near campus?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” you chuckled. “We get dinner there after classes, talk about anything and everything. It’s kind of become our thing.”
Yerin, who had been half-paying attention, looked up from her phone at the mention of Jihoon. “Wait a second, hold on. I thought Jihoon was this… grumpy, antisocial guy. You know, the one who never really goes out?”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too,” you said with a small laugh. “But honestly? I think he’s just been waiting for the right person. And I guess… maybe I’m that person.”
Jennie grinned widely, her eyes practically sparkling with excitement. “Oh my god, I knew it! I saw the way you two were around each other last time, and I was like, ‘Something’s going on here.’ You two just click.”
Yerin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “So, how does he feel about you? You’ve been spending all this time with him. Have you two… talked about anything serious yet?”
You took a deep breath, feeling the fluttering in your chest as you thought about Jihoon.
“We haven’t really defined anything yet. I think we’re both just taking things slow. But honestly, I feel like there’s a connection there, something real.”
Yerin smiled knowingly, setting her phone down. “I can tell you like him, Y/n. And I’m glad he’s making you happy. Just make sure to take it slow and enjoy the ride. You don’t have to rush into anything.”
Jennie, ever the romantic, added, “Yeah, but also, when are you two going to make it official? I’m dying to hear how this all goes down.”
You laughed, brushing your hair out of your face. “I don’t know if we’re at that point yet. We’re still just figuring things out.”
“Right, right,” Jennie teased. “But I know how you are, Y/n. You’re gonna make him fall for you, and it’s going to be cute. You two are a total power couple in the making.”
You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you appreciated their support. “I’m just trying to enjoy these moments with him right now. But… I don’t know. I think I’m starting to like him more than I expected.”
Yerin leaned back, resting her head on the pillow, clearly satisfied with the conversation.
“You’re allowed to like him, Y/n. Honestly, I think Jihoon’s a good match for you. He’s different from the guys you usually go for. He seems like he genuinely cares.”
Jennie gave a dramatic sigh. “I’m already calling dibs on being your maid of honor whenever you two get married.”
Yerin snorted, throwing a pillow at Jennie. “Are you trying to jinx it already? Slow down, lovebird.”
You laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest as your best friends teased you. It felt good to talk about Jihoon, to let someone else in on what you were feeling. It was different from all the other crushes you’d had, and you knew that it was only the beginning of something special.
But for now, you were content to take it one step at a time, with your friends by your side and Jihoon slowly making his way into your heart.
After a long and stressful week of finals, you were finally free. The relief that flooded over you was immense, and the anticipation of meeting Jihoon made it even sweeter.
You had both been texting throughout the week, but with finals consuming all of your time, you hadn't been able to meet up. Tonight, though, was different.
Jihoon had messaged you earlier, asking if you wanted to meet up once you were done with everything. You could already feel the excitement building in your chest.
As you walked out of the library, the crisp night air greeted you, and your phone buzzed in your pocket. Jihoon’s message appeared on the screen:
Jihoon: "Hey, I was thinking we could grab dinner. You deserve a break after finals. I’ll meet you at that place we like near campus, yeah?"
You smiled at the message and quickly typed back:
You: "Sounds perfect. I’ll be there in 15 minutes."
You quickly made your way to the restaurant, the weight of finals lifting off your shoulders with each step.
When you arrived, you spotted Jihoon waiting for you outside, his usual shy smile lighting up his face as soon as he saw you. He looked great, as always, but there was something about him tonight—something more confident, like he had been looking forward to this just as much as you had.
“Hey,” you greeted, your voice already filled with warmth.
“Hey, Y/n. How was the last exam?” Jihoon asked, his voice a little more relaxed than usual, but still filled with genuine interest.
“It was tough, but I’m just happy it’s over. I could finally breathe,” you said with a smile.
Jihoon chuckled softly, pushing open the door to the restaurant and letting you go in first. The place was cozy, with dim lighting and soft jazz music playing in the background.
You’d been here a few times before, and it always felt like the perfect spot to relax and enjoy good food.
“So, what’s the plan now that finals are done?” Jihoon asked as you both sat down. He’d already taken the liberty of ordering a drink for you, something you’d mentioned you liked in passing weeks ago. It was a small gesture, but one that made your heart flutter.
“Honestly, I just want to take it easy and catch up with you,” you said, your voice gentle. “I’ve missed this.”
Jihoon smiled, and you could tell he felt the same. “Same here. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
After you both ordered your meals, the conversation flowed effortlessly. It was easy with Jihoon, like you didn’t have to worry about the awkward pauses or overthinking what you said. It just felt natural.
You talked about how your finals had gone, the stress, and everything in between. Jihoon, despite his quiet nature, opened up more than usual, and you could tell the weight of the past week had lifted from his shoulders as well.
As the evening went on, Jihoon casually leaned back in his chair and seemed to hesitate for a moment, almost as if gathering his thoughts. You didn’t mind the pause, enjoying the quiet comfort of just being in each other’s company.
“I know we’ve been through a lot recently with exams and everything, but… I’ve been thinking about something,” Jihoon began, his voice soft.
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What is it?”
Jihoon took a deep breath, and you could see the hint of nervousness in his expression. “I’ve really enjoyed these past few weeks with you, Y/n. More than I expected, honestly. I know we’re both busy, but I want to see you more. Not just as a friend… but as something more.”
Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a blush creep up your neck. “Jihoon…”
He smiled shyly. “I’m not good with words, but… I really like you. A lot. I want to be with you. Would you be my girlfriend?”
The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, the realization hitting you hard. You had felt the same way, but hearing him say it out loud made everything feel more real.
A smile spread across your face as you reached out, taking his hand across the table. “Yes, Jihoon. I’d love to.”
The relief on his face was instant, and you could see the happiness in his eyes. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.”
And in that moment, with the lights of the restaurant casting a soft glow around you, everything felt right. It was the perfect end to a stressful week—and the beginning of something even more beautiful.
After dinner, Jihoon suggested that you both head to his place. He had mentioned before that he had a small studio where he worked on his music, and tonight, it seemed like the perfect time to finally show you what he’d been working on.
“You know, I was thinking of taking you to my studio,” Jihoon said as you walked side by side toward his apartment building. “I’ve been working on something… and I think it’s time I share it with you.”
You raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Something? What is it?”
Jihoon just smiled, his gaze a little more secretive. “You’ll see.”
Once you arrived at his place, Jihoon led you up to the small studio in the corner of the building. The space was cozy, but you could immediately tell it was filled with character.
There were posters of old-school musicians on the walls, a few vintage records stacked neatly in one corner, and the warm light from a desk lamp illuminated a red guitar leaning against a chair.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Jihoon said, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll just grab my guitar.”
You sat down, looking around the room, the quiet hum of anticipation settling in your chest. Jihoon moved around the room, picking up the guitar and tuning it for a moment before sitting down beside you.
His fingers brushed the strings, testing them one last time, before he looked at you, his expression soft and sincere.
“I wrote this song a while ago,” Jihoon began, his voice low, almost as if he were gathering courage. “And honestly, I didn’t know if I would ever share it with anyone. But when I started to really think about it, I realized… you’re the inspiration for it. I wanted to play it for you.”
You watched him, your heart already fluttering. “Jihoon…”
With a soft breath, he started playing, the chords flowing from the guitar as if they had been meant for this moment. The melody was gentle at first, and as he sang the lyrics, his voice blended effortlessly with the soothing tune.
It was clear that every word was carefully chosen, every note filled with emotion. And as the song progressed, you could feel the weight of his words hitting deep.
The lyrics were simple but beautiful, each line a reflection of how Jihoon saw you—his "ruby"—his muse, his heart’s desire.
As the last note faded, Jihoon set the guitar down beside him and looked at you, his eyes slightly unsure. “I… I know it’s a lot, but I wanted you to hear it. Because you’re the one who inspired it.”
You were silent for a moment, taking in everything—the song, his vulnerability, and the realization that Jihoon had really opened up to you in a way he hadn’t with anyone else. It took you a second to gather your thoughts, but when you finally spoke, your voice was soft, filled with sincerity.
“That was beautiful, Jihoon,” you whispered, your heart swelling. “I can’t believe you wrote that for me.”
Jihoon’s expression softened, and for a moment, he looked a little embarrassed. “I didn’t know how to tell you. But now, I guess there’s no hiding it anymore.”
You smiled, reaching out to touch his hand. “I’m really glad you did.”
There was a brief silence, but this time it was comfortable, filled with the weight of the connection you shared. Jihoon looked at you, his eyes full of warmth and something deeper. It was clear to you now—he had fallen for you, and he had done it in the most beautiful way possible.
After a few beats, Jihoon spoke again, his voice quiet but steady.
“You know,” he began, his tone playful but filled with sincerity, “you really have a way of turning my entire routine upside down.”
You raised an eyebrow, still feeling the warmth of the music and his words. “Oh really? What do you mean by that?”
Jihoon chuckled softly, the sound low and comfortable.
“I mean, my life was pretty predictable before you came around. Gym, classes, music, rinse and repeat. But now, it’s like—” he trailed off for a second, gathering his thoughts, “—I actually look forward to getting out of bed in the morning, you know? To seeing you.”
Your heart fluttered at his words, but you couldn’t resist teasing him. “Oh, so I’m just some distraction now, huh? Are you telling me I’ve become the highlight of your boring routine?”
Jihoon’s eyes softened, a smile curling at the corners of his lips as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping just a little. “If that makes me sound like I’m complaining, then yes. You’re the perfect distraction. The best one I never knew I needed.”
You let out a small laugh, not able to hide how happy that made you feel. “I don’t know if I should feel flattered or worried.”
“You should definitely feel flattered,” Jihoon teased, tapping the back of his hand against your knee. “But seriously, I’m really glad you’re in my life now. It’s like... you’ve made everything a little more exciting.”
You met his gaze, the playful air between you both still hanging, but something deeper flickered in his eyes now—something genuine, something real.
“Well, I’m glad I’m not just some distraction then,” you said, shifting slightly to face him fully. “And here I thought you were going to tell me I was ruining your carefully planned life.”
Jihoon chuckled, shaking his head. “No way. I never knew how much I needed this kind of chaos until you showed up.”
There was a brief pause, and then Jihoon leaned in a little closer, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know, it’s nice having someone who actually doesn’t mind the mess I call my life.”
“Well, good thing I’m here then,” you replied with a wink. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Jihoon smiled, a mix of playfulness and tenderness in his expression. “Good. Because I kind of like this version of my life now. With you in it.”
With that, he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and as he did, you both shared a quiet moment, the atmosphere charged with the kind of ease that came only with truly being yourselves around each other.
The hum of his guitar, still resting by his side, seemed to match the rhythm of the moment. And as Jihoon leaned back into his seat, he added with a cheeky grin, “Also, just so you know… if you ever need a song to get stuck in your head, you’ve got the perfect one now.”
You laughed, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “Yeah, I think that’s gonna be stuck in my head for a while. Especially when it’s your fault.”
Jihoon’s grin widened. “You’re welcome,” he teased.
© rubyuji 2025’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.
#kpop angst#kpop au#kpop blurbs#kpop ff#kpop fluff#kpop imagines#seventeen imagines#seventeen au#seventeen ff#seventeen#kpop#kpop fanfics#kpop fanfiction#kpop fanfic#kpop oneshot#kpop one shots#kpop oneshots#kpop imagine#seventeen oneshot#svt#seventeen fic#seventeen x reader#seventeen fluff#seventeen fanfic#woozi#woozi x reader#woozi imagines#seventeen woozi#svt woozi
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A/N: Quick thoughts on Caleb that I need to get out before I can SLEEP. 🥲
🍎 Caleb is for the Ladies who are tired of never being someone's first choice. This man does not play games. When he falls for you - it is just you. Not anybody else. Always you. He even chooses you, your happiness, your wellbeing before his own... every! single! day!
🍎 "I know you can do it yourself. But I want to do it for you." You would hear this more often than not. Maybe you always had to fight alone, get things done, figure it out on your own... but not with him around. He won't watch you struggle. He'll help you, no worries. Be independent as much as you want, but rest assured he'll be there when you need him.
🍎 When the world becomes too much for you, he will handle it. Maybe you could never truly rely on someone - but you can rely on him. He said he'd deal with something? It's been dealt with.
🍎 He would be so proud to call you his girlfriend. When he's out and about with his friends, he's texting you regularly (even though you already told him that he doesn't have to... he insists on it). He wouldn't even care if his friends teased him about it. He cares if you're okay and comfortable, everything else doesn't matter.
🍎 You need to cry? You're having a mental breakdown out of nowhere? He'll hold you tightly, until the last of your sobs ebbs away. Or he keeps a healthy distance if you want that (even though he'd much rather stay close to you...). He doesn't speak much during those moments. No "it's fine, let it out" or "it'll be alright". There's only one thing he'll tell you during these moments: "I'm here, and I won't leave you."
#QUICK rambling#hope it's coherent lol#love and deepspace#l&ds#lads#lnds#caleb lnds#caleb love and deepspace#caleb x you#lnds caleb#lads caleb#love and deepspace caleb#caleb x reader#caleb
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By the lake || LFX
(not proofread)
The summer of 1943 began like every other. Days of heat shimmered over the endless green lawns of our estate, the hum of cicadas filling the air as I sat on the veranda with my mother, dutifully pretending to care about the guest list for our next garden party. It was the summer before my eighteenth birthday, the one my parents insisted would change everything a season of suitors, family alliances, and preparing for the life they had so carefully planned for me. I thought I knew my future. I thought my days would always be as predictable as the breeze through the magnolia trees.
But then Clara convinced me to go to the drive in theater that night.
We snuck out after dinner, giggling like schoolgirls as we crept past my father’s study and out into the warm summer night. Clara had borrowed her brother’s old truck, and the two of us tumbled into it with whispered promises to be back before anyone noticed.
The theater was on the outskirts of town, tucked away in a dusty lot where the wealthier families rarely ventured. I remember the thrill of it the smell of buttered popcorn, the flickering light of the projector, the low murmur of voices as the audience settled in. It was nothing like the stiff parties and curated perfection of my usual world. It felt alive.
That’s where I saw him.
Felix.
He was leaning against a rusted pickup truck, the kind of vehicle that seemed barely held together by sheer determination. His dirty blonde hair was slightly tousled, like he’d run his hands through it one too many times, and his freckles caught the light of the screen above us. But it was his smile that stopped me in my tracks. Wide, boyish, and utterly disarming. He looked so out of place yet so comfortable, as though he belonged to this world in a way I never could.
I didn’t realize I was staring until Clara nudged me.
“Do you know him?” she whispered, her eyes flicking between me and the boy across the lot.
“No,” I said quickly, though my cheeks flushed. “I was just… looking.”
Clara grinned mischievously. “Well, he’s looking at you too.”
And he was.
Our eyes met, and for a moment, the noise of the theater faded away. It was just him, standing there with that easy smile and those impossibly warm brown eyes. He raised a hand in a small, almost shy wave, and I felt my heart stumble in my chest.
Clara, always braver than I, took it upon herself to act. She grabbed my hand and practically dragged me across the lot, weaving between cars and groups of strangers until we were standing right in front of him.
“Hi,” she said brightly. “I’m Clara, and this is Y/N.”
Felix’s gaze shifted to me, and up close, he was even more breathtaking. The freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose were like constellations, and his voice, when he spoke, was soft and deep yet magnetic.
“Hi,” he said, his smile widening. “I’m Felix.”
And just like that, the course of my summer and maybe my life changed forever.
We talked through the entire movie. Clara excused herself at some point, muttering something about not being a third wheel, but I barely noticed. Felix told me about his family, about how he worked at the docks to help his parents make ends meet, about how he dreamed of traveling one day even though he’d never been more than fifty miles from town.
“I’ve always wanted to see the world,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet longing. “But for now, I guess this little corner of it will have to do.”
I didn’t tell him then, but I envied him. His life, though hard, seemed so real compared to the carefully curated existence I’d been raised in. He lived with purpose, with dreams that were his own, not handed to him by someone else.
By the time the credits rolled, I knew I wanted to see him again. And when he asked his voice hesitant, his cheeks pink with nervousness I said yes without a second thought.
That summer, Felix became my secret. Every stolen moment, every whispered conversation under the stars, felt like a rebellion against the life I was supposed to lead. And though I didn’t know what the future held for us, I knew one thing for certain: I’d never forget the boy with dirty blonde hair, freckles, and a smile that could light up even the darkest night.
The moon hung low in the sky that night, its pale glow shimmering over the lake like silver lace. The air was warm, and the soft hum of crickets filled the silence between us as Felix and I walked along the water’s edge. It was late too late for me to be out but I didn’t care. Being with him felt worth the risk.
Felix had brought me here, his secret spot, a place he said he came to when the world felt too heavy. It was quiet and still, the kind of place where the weight of the world seemed to melt away. He’d spread out an old blanket under a willow tree, and we sat side by side, our shoulders brushing as we looked out over the rippling water.
I glanced over at him, watching as the moonlight danced across his face. His dirty blonde hair was slightly messy, the ends curling from the humidity, and his freckles stood out against his sun-kissed skin. He was beautiful in a way that made my chest ache, a way that felt almost unfair.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked softly, breaking the silence.
Felix turned his head toward me, his eyes meeting mine. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at me like he was trying to memorize every detail of my face.
“I’m thinking about how lucky I am,” he said finally, his voice low and steady.
I felt my cheeks flush, and I looked away, suddenly nervous under his gaze. “Lucky?”
He nodded, leaning back on his hands as he stared up at the sky. “Yeah. I mean, look at me. I’m just some guy from the wrong side of town, working at the docks to get by. And then there’s you—this incredible, smart, beautiful girl who comes from a world I can’t even imagine.”
“Felix…” I started, but he shook his head, cutting me off gently.
“I’m serious, Y/N,” he said, his voice growing softer. “Every time I’m with you, it feels like… like I’m dreaming. Like I’m living a life I don’t deserve.”
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that he deserved everything good in this world, but the words caught in my throat.
He leaned closer then, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding ridiculous, but… I think I’m falling in love with you.”
The world seemed to stop. The crickets, the soft rustle of the willow branches, even the gentle lap of the water against the shore—all of it faded into nothing. It was just Felix, sitting there with his messy hair and his wide, hopeful eyes, waiting for me to say something.
My breath hitched, and I looked down at my hands, trying to find the words. When I finally looked up, he was still watching me, his expression open and vulnerable in a way that made my heart ache.
“I think I’m falling in love with you too,” I whispered.
The smile that spread across his face was unlike anything I’d ever seen. It was pure, unfiltered joy, and in that moment, I knew I’d do anything to keep that smile on his face.
He reached for my hand then, his fingers intertwining with mine as he pulled me closer. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Y/N,” he said softly. “But I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. To make us work.”
I nodded, tears stinging my eyes as I rested my head on his shoulder. In that moment, under the willow tree with the lake stretching out before us, I felt something I’d never felt before.
Hope.
And for the first time, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, love could be enough.
The weeks that followed my first night with Felix felt like a dream. We stole moments whenever we could, meeting under the willow by the lake, walking hand in hand along the quiet backroads, and talking about everything and nothing until the stars faded into morning. I didn’t care about the risks. All I knew was that with him, I felt alive.
But dreams don’t last forever.
It was late one evening when it all came crashing down. Felix and I had just returned from the lake. He’d walked me as close to the house as he dared, kissing my hand in the shadows before slipping away into the night. I was still floating on the warmth of his touch, his voice echoing in my mind, when I stepped through the back door of the house.
My father was waiting for me.
He stood in the dim light of the hallway, his arms crossed and his expression as hard as stone. My heart sank the moment I saw him.
“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and cold. “Where have you been?”
I hesitated, trying to come up with an excuse, but the words wouldn’t come. He didn’t need me to answer. He already knew.
“You’ve been sneaking out,” he continued, his tone sharp as a blade. “With that boy.”
“His name is Felix,” I said quietly, my voice trembling.
My father’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care what his name is. Do you have any idea how reckless you’ve been? How foolish?”
“He’s not foolish,” I shot back, my voice rising despite the lump in my throat. “He’s kind and smart and—”
“And poor,” my father interrupted, his words cutting through mine like a whip. “He works on the docks, Y/N. He has nothing to offer you. No future, no stability, no place in this family.”
My stomach twisted, and I clenched my fists at my sides. “He’s more than that. He’s a better person than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“That may be,” my father said, his voice softening slightly, though his eyes remained cold. “But love isn’t enough, not in the real world. You have a responsibility to this family, to your future. You can’t throw it all away for some boy.”
His words hit me like a blow, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak. My father had always been strict, but I’d never seen him like this—so unyielding, so determined to put an end to something he didn’t even understand.
Tears stung my eyes as I finally found my voice. “You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s been through, what he’s capable of. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I didn’t even know I needed.”
My father’s jaw tightened, and he let out a heavy sigh. “You’re young, Y/N. You think this is love, but it’s just a passing infatuation. You’ll see that in time.”
“No,” I said firmly, my voice breaking. “You’re wrong.”
He shook his head, his expression unreadable. “This ends tonight. You’re not to see him again.”
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there in the dim hallway, my heart shattering into pieces.
I sank to the floor, tears streaming down my face as his words echoed in my mind. I knew he wouldn’t bend, wouldn’t change his mind. He would do whatever it took to keep Felix and me apart.
But as I sat there, clutching my knees to my chest, I made a silent promise to myself.
This wasn’t over. Not yet.
The days after that night felt like a prison sentence. My father had made good on his threat, confining me to the estate under the guise of “protecting my reputation.” My mother, ever the diplomat, assured me it was only for a short while. “You need time to think, darling,” she had said, as if this was all for my benefit. But I didn’t need time to think. I already knew my heart belonged to Felix, no matter how much my father disapproved.
Weeks passed, each one more unbearable than the last. I spent my days staring out the window, imagining Felix by the lake or at the docks, wondering if he thought I had abandoned him. My father had forbidden any mention of him in the house, and I was too afraid to write to him.
Then Clara came to visit.
She arrived one afternoon, her voice cheerful and bright as she chatted with my mother before finding me in the garden. As soon as we were alone, her expression changed, her playful grin replaced with something softer, more serious.
“I saw him,” she said quietly, her eyes watching me carefully.
I froze, my heart lurching in my chest. “Felix?”
She nodded, sitting down beside me on the stone bench. “He was in town yesterday, near the docks. He looked… different.”
“Different how?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Like he’s been worried,” Clara said gently. “He asked about you, Y/N. Said he hadn’t seen you in weeks and wondered if you were all right.”
Tears welled in my eyes, and I looked away, biting my lip to keep from crying. “He probably thinks I’ve forgotten about him,” I whispered.
Clara reached out and took my hand, squeezing it tightly. “I told him you hadn’t. That your father’s been keeping you here.”
I turned to her, hope sparking in my chest. “What did he say?”
She hesitated for a moment before answering. “He said he misses you. That he’s been waiting for you by the lake every single night, hoping you’d come back.”
My breath caught, and a tear slipped down my cheek. “I don’t know what to do, Clara. My father won’t let me leave, and if he finds out I’ve been seeing Felix…”
“You can’t stay locked up forever,” Clara said firmly. “You love him, don’t you?”
I nodded, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “More than anything.”
Clara’s lips curved into a small, determined smile. “Then I’ll help you. We’ll find a way.”
Her words were like a lifeline, a glimmer of hope in the darkness. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe again. Felix was still there, still waiting, and I knew I couldn’t let him down.
I didn’t know how we’d manage it, how we’d find a way to be together in a world that seemed determined to keep us apart. But one thing was certain: I wasn’t ready to give up on him. Not now, not ever.
The next morning, my father announced we’d be heading into town to pick up more seed for the garden. It was the first time in weeks he’d allowed me to leave the estate, and while the outing was far from exciting, I jumped at the chance. Anything to escape the suffocating walls of home.
The general store was quiet, with only a few familiar faces browsing the aisles. My father headed straight to the counter to discuss the seed order, leaving me to wander aimlessly. I trailed my fingers along the shelves of canned goods, my mind elsewhere, when something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.
A flash of blonde.
I turned instinctively toward the window, my breath hitching. There he was. Felix.
He stood just outside the store, leaning casually against the frame of the large display window. His dirty blonde hair glowed in the sunlight, and his freckled face was turned toward the glass, scanning the interior. He hadn’t seen me yet, but the sight of him was enough to send my heart racing.
Before I could think, I was moving, my feet carrying me toward the door. The bells above the door jingled as I pushed it open, stepping out into the warm summer air.
“Felix!” I called, my voice louder than I intended.
He turned at the sound of his name, his eyes widening when he saw me. A smile spread across his face, slow and beautiful, the kind of smile that made me forget the rest of the world existed.
“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice laced with relief and something deeper.
I didn’t stop until I was standing in front of him, so close I could see the faint golden flecks in his brown eyes. “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of emotions—relief, joy, and the ache of all the time we’d lost.
“I was hoping I’d see you,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been coming into town more often, just in case… well, just in case you were here.”
My heart clenched, and I reached out, my hand brushing against his. “Felix, I’m so sorry. My father—he won’t let me leave the house. He—”
Felix shook his head, cutting me off gently. “You don’t have to explain, Y/N. Clara told me everything. I just needed to know you were all right.”
“I’ve missed you,” I whispered, the words spilling out before I could stop them.
His smile faltered, his eyes softening as he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ve missed you too,” he said quietly. “More than I can say.”
For a moment, the world around us faded away. It was just Felix and me, standing there in the sunlight, his hand warm against mine. But the spell was broken all too quickly by the sound of my father’s voice calling my name from inside the store.
I flinched, glancing over my shoulder toward the door. Felix’s hand tightened around mine.
“I’ll wait for you,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension in his jaw. “No matter how long it takes, Y/N. I’ll be here.”
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I nodded, squeezing his hand one last time before stepping back. “I’ll find a way,” I promised.
As I walked back into the store, the bells jingling softly above me, I felt my father’s sharp gaze on me. But I didn’t care. Felix was still here, still waiting, and so was I.
The moment I stepped back into the store, I felt my father’s eyes on me. His face was unreadable, but the tight set of his jaw told me everything I needed to know. He had seen us.
“Who was that?” he asked, his voice sharp but low, so no one else in the store could hear.
My heart pounded as I tried to form an answer, but I knew there was no point in lying. “It was Felix,” I said softly.
His expression darkened, and he took a step closer, his voice dropping even further. “I thought I made myself clear, Y/N. You are not to see that boy again.”
I straightened my shoulders, summoning what little courage I had left. “You don’t understand, Father. Felix isn’t some troublemaker or a passing fancy. He’s… he’s important to me.”
“Important?” My father’s voice rose slightly, and a few heads turned in our direction. He took a breath, visibly reining in his temper. “You think your feelings matter more than your future? Than this family’s reputation?”
I clenched my fists at my sides, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Why does it always have to be about reputation? About what other people think? Felix is kind, he’s hardworking, and he loves me for who I am, not for what I have. Isn’t that worth something?”
He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re young, Y/N. You don’t understand what it takes to build a life, to secure a future. Love doesn’t put food on the table or maintain a household. That boy—Felix—he has nothing to offer you.”
“You don’t know him!” I snapped, my voice trembling. “You don’t know anything about him or how he makes me feel. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and I won’t give him up just because he doesn’t fit into your perfect little plan.”
For a moment, my father just stared at me, his face a mixture of anger and disbelief. Then, his expression hardened, and his voice turned cold.
“If you insist on defying me, there will be consequences,” he said. “I’ve indulged your foolishness long enough, Y/N. This ends now.”
My heart sank, and panic clawed at my chest. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that if you so much as look at that boy again, I’ll make sure he’s out of your life for good,” he said, his tone icy. “Do you understand me?”
Tears blurred my vision, but I refused to let them fall. “You can’t do that,” I whispered.
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Watch me.”
I stared at him, my chest heaving with anger and fear. This wasn’t just about Felix anymore—it was about control, about my father’s need to dictate every aspect of my life.
But as I looked into his steely eyes, I made a silent vow. He could try to keep us apart, but he would never break the bond Felix and I shared.
“Are we finished here?” I asked, my voice trembling but steady enough to convey defiance.
My father straightened, giving me a long, hard look before turning away. “Get in the car,” he said.
I followed him out of the store, my mind racing with thoughts of Felix and the promises we’d made to each other. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.
As I followed my father out of the store, my heart felt heavy, each step dragging me further away from Felix. The bells on the door jingled again as we stepped outside, the warm summer sun beating down on us. My father marched ahead toward the car, his posture stiff with anger.
But I couldn’t move. Something made me stop, my chest tightening with an inexplicable pull. Slowly, I turned back toward the store.
There he was.
Felix stood across the street, leaning against a wooden post, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his worn trousers. He wasn’t smiling now, his usual playful expression replaced by something deeper—something sad and longing. His dirty blonde hair caught the sunlight, and even from this distance, I could see the faint freckles scattered across his cheeks.
Our eyes met, and it was like the world around us disappeared. My father’s sharp voice, the bustling of the town, even the sound of my own heartbeat—it all faded into the background.
He took a small step forward, his gaze locked on mine as if silently asking me if I was okay. The worry in his eyes sent a wave of warmth and pain rushing through me. I wanted nothing more than to run to him, to tell him everything, to bury my face in his chest and let him hold me.
But I couldn’t. Not with my father only a few feet away.
Still, I couldn’t stop myself from taking one small step back toward the store, my hand brushing against the doorframe as if it could anchor me to this moment. Felix must have noticed the hesitation in my step because his expression softened, a flicker of hope breaking through the sadness.
“Y/N!” My father’s voice snapped me out of the trance, cold and sharp as ice.
I flinched, my head whipping around to see him standing by the car, glaring at me. “Get in. Now.”
I glanced back at Felix, my heart aching as I saw him straighten up, his jaw tightening. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, but his eyes spoke volumes.
I’ll wait for you, they seemed to say. I always will.
Tears stung my eyes as I nodded ever so slightly, a silent promise passing between us. Then, with every ounce of strength I had, I turned and walked to the car, my father’s disapproving stare burning into my back.
As I climbed into the passenger seat, I caught one last glimpse of Felix through the window. He was still standing there, watching as the car pulled away, his figure growing smaller and smaller until he finally disappeared from view.
I rested my head against the window, tears sliding silently down my cheeks. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
It had been over a year since I last saw Felix. A year of unanswered letters, fleeting memories, and a heavy ache that I couldn’t shake. In that time, I had tried to move forward—tried to immerse myself in the world my father had set out for me. But nothing felt right. No matter how many social events I attended, how many conversations I had, my thoughts always returned to Felix—the way he looked at me, the sound of his voice, the way his smile made me feel alive.
One afternoon, as I walked through the town square, lost in thought, I heard something that stopped me in my tracks. The voice was unmistakable, but it was different, rougher, like time had changed him in ways I couldn’t have imagined.
I turned the corner, and there he was.
Felix stood by the storefront, his back to me, a guitar slung across his shoulder. His dirty blonde hair had grown a little longer, his face still dotted with freckles, but his posture was more slumped now, his clothes worn, the edges frayed. He wasn’t the same boy I had left by the lake, but the core of him was still there—still as magnetic as ever.
And he was singing.
“I know it’s over,” he crooned softly, his voice low and raw, vibrating with every word. The lyrics were drenched in sorrow, an aching kind of melancholy that seemed to echo through the air. “I know it’s over, and it never really began…”
The sound of his voice wrapped around me like a spell, drawing me in, pulling me closer. I stood frozen for a moment, just watching him, my heart pounding in my chest. How had I not found him sooner? Had he been here all this time, singing his heart out on the street, just waiting for me to come back?
He reached the end of the verse, his voice breaking slightly with emotion, and it felt like the world stopped spinning. He closed his eyes for a moment, lost in the music, unaware of my presence. The rawness of his voice, the pain laced within it, made me ache in a way I hadn’t in so long.
The last note lingered in the air, and for a heartbeat, everything was still.
It was then that he finally looked up, his eyes meeting mine, and everything came crashing down. His gaze widened, the flicker of recognition flashing through his expression before he quickly looked away, as though unsure whether he should be relieved or hurt by my presence.
I couldn’t move. I wanted to run to him, to pull him into my arms, but my feet stayed glued to the ground.
After what felt like forever, Felix lowered his guitar, his hands trembling slightly as he wiped his face. “Y/N,” he said, his voice shaky, as if he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things. “I… I didn’t think you’d come back.”
The words hit me like a tidal wave, and I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “I didn’t know where you were,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I’ve been searching for you, Felix. Every day, wondering… wondering where you went.”
He stared at me, his lips parting slightly, as though he was trying to say something but couldn’t find the words. “I—” he stopped himself, his gaze falling to the ground. “I didn’t want to keep waiting, Y/N. I thought… I thought maybe you had moved on, that I was just a memory to you.”
I stepped forward, my heart pounding, every part of me aching to be near him again. “Felix, you were never just a memory. I’ve thought about you every day since I left.”
He looked up at me then, his face softening, a faint glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes. “Really?”
I nodded, taking another step closer. “I’m so sorry I disappeared. I had to leave, but I never stopped caring about you. Never stopped thinking about the life we could have had.”
He let out a breath he’d been holding, his lips curling into a small, bittersweet smile. “I should’ve known you’d come back… but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
We stood there for a long moment, just looking at each other, everything between us unsaid but understood. The years had passed, but it felt like nothing had really changed. The pull between us was still there, as strong as ever, and in that instant, I knew that I hadn’t just come back for the town, for my family, or for anything else.
I had come back for him.
Felix set his guitar down gently on the ground, and without a word, he took a step toward me. “I’m glad you’re here, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “I never stopped hoping you’d return.”
And this time, I wasn’t leaving. Not without him.
I took a deep breath, the weight of the past year pressing on my chest. Felix’s words had opened a door I thought I’d locked away for good, but now that I was standing here, face-to-face with him again, everything came rushing back.
“I’ve been looking for a house,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “My parents… they’re moving to a bigger, fancier place soon. They’re leaving the town behind for something even more ‘suitable’ for their status, and I… I can’t go with them, Felix.”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re leaving your family?”
I nodded, the truth tasting bitter on my tongue. “I don’t have a choice, really. They want me to go, but I can’t. I’ve been looking for a place on my own, somewhere I can start fresh. A place where I can make my own decisions without their expectations hanging over me.”
Felix stepped closer, his eyes softening with understanding, though there was a flicker of concern in his gaze. “But what about everything you’ve known? Your life, your family…?”
I bit my lip, the uncertainty swirling within me. “I’ve spent my whole life living for them, doing what they wanted. But it’s not my life, Felix. I’ve realized that. I don’t want to keep pretending that it is.”
Felix’s expression softened even more, and I could see the mixture of admiration and sadness in his eyes. He reached out, gently taking my hands in his. “I’m not asking you to leave everything behind, Y/N. But if you need to, if you want to do this… I’m here. I’ll help you.”
A lump formed in my throat as his words hit me harder than I expected. Here he was, offering me everything he had—his support, his love, his understanding—when all I had to give him in return was uncertainty and fear of the future.
“I don’t know where this will lead, Felix,” I said quietly. “But I can’t go back to that life. I can’t be who they want me to be anymore.”
Felix’s thumb traced the back of my hand as he held it, his smile small but steady. “Then let’s figure it out together. I know things aren’t easy, but you don’t have to face them alone.”
I blinked back tears, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. The future was still uncertain, still full of questions, but in that moment, with Felix by my side, I knew I was no longer walking it alone.
“So, you’ve been looking for a house?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes. “Maybe we can find one together, huh?”
I smiled softly, the warmth in my chest spreading. “Maybe. But first… I think I need to hear you sing something else. Something that isn’t so heartbreakingly beautiful.”
Felix laughed, the sound light and carefree, and for the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to laugh with him.
It didn’t take long for Felix and me to find our way back to the lake. It was like the world had conspired to bring us to this place again—where everything had started, where time felt like it had stood still. The lake shimmered in the fading light of the sunset, its surface painted with shades of orange and pink, the air cool and refreshing. It was as though the world had paused just for us, granting us this moment of peace.
Felix sat on the edge of the old wooden dock, his guitar resting on his knee, looking out over the water as the last remnants of daylight dipped below the horizon. I sat next to him, close enough to feel the warmth of his presence, but not so close that it felt like I was rushing the moment. We had time now. Time to let things unfold at their own pace.
“I used to sing here, you know,” Felix said softly, his eyes distant as if lost in his own thoughts. “Before everything changed. It was just me and this lake. And my guitar. But now… it feels different.”
I nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. “I know. It’s like everything that’s happened has led us right back here. To this place.”
Felix smiled, a hint of sadness in his expression. “Yeah… I think it’s where I first felt like I could be myself, you know?”
I turned to him, my heart full. “I feel that, too.”
He let out a quiet breath and adjusted his guitar, his fingers resting on the strings. “Well, then… let’s make it our place again. You and me.”
And with that, he began to play, the familiar strumming of his guitar echoing in the stillness. His voice followed soon after, soft but filled with emotion. It was the song that had become his anthem over the past year, the one he’d sung to himself when he felt lost, when he needed to remember who he was.
“Are you lonesome tonight?” he sang, his voice low and rich, the words carrying through the twilight. “Do you miss me tonight? Are you sorry we drifted apart?”
The song, filled with longing and quiet sorrow, floated through the air like a whisper, wrapping around us both. I closed my eyes, letting the music wash over me, each note and word feeling like it was written just for us.
Felix’s voice cracked slightly as he reached the bridge of the song, the raw emotion behind it too much to contain. “I never knew that I’d be so lonely… until you left.”
The words lingered in the air, and I could feel the weight of them in my chest, in my heart. Felix had always sung from his soul, but tonight, it was like he was singing directly to me, for me. And as the last notes of the song faded, I felt something in my chest loosen—a tight knot of grief, uncertainty, and longing finally unraveling.
I reached out, resting my hand on his arm. “Felix… I never wanted to be apart from you.”
He stopped playing, his gaze turning toward me, the fading sunlight casting soft shadows across his face. He reached for my hand, his fingers lacing with mine, and for the first time in a long time, I felt truly at peace.
“Then we don’t have to be anymore,” he whispered, his voice steady, sure. “Not ever again.”
The sun finally dipped below the horizon, the sky now a deep shade of indigo, and the stars began to twinkle above us. Felix and I sat there for a while, just holding hands, listening to the night around us. And I realized then that, no matter what the future held, I had everything I needed right here—this moment, this lake, and Felix by my side.
A few weeks had passed since that evening by the lake, and Felix and I had slipped into a comfortable rhythm. We had become inseparable, the bond we shared deepening with every passing day. We had both found a sense of peace, of direction, that we hadn’t known before, and now, we were on a mission: to find a house.
The town had changed a little over the years, but it still felt like home. As we strolled down the cobblestone streets, Felix was walking beside me, holding the local newspaper in one hand and flipping through the housing listings with the other. His brow furrowed slightly as he scanned the columns, muttering under his breath about the prices and locations.
“So,” I began, my voice light and excited as I walked alongside him, “I’ve been thinking about what kind of house I want. Something small but cozy, you know? A place that feels like it belongs to me.”
Felix glanced over at me, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I think that’s what we’re both looking for. Somewhere we can start fresh, make our own space.”
I nodded enthusiastically, my mind racing with ideas. “I want a house with a big front porch, one with a swing where I can sit and drink coffee in the mornings. Maybe a few rose bushes lining the walkway… something that feels like it’s always been mine.”
Felix chuckled, the sound warm and full of affection. “You’ve got it all planned out, huh?”
“Of course!” I grinned, nudging him lightly with my elbow. “I’ve imagined it for so long. I want it to have a big kitchen, too—somewhere I can bake and cook, and we can sit around the table together. It has to feel like home. You know what I mean?”
“I do,” Felix said, his tone sincere. He glanced back down at the paper, his eyes scanning the listings again. “I like the idea of having a space where we can just be ourselves, where we don’t have to worry about anyone else’s expectations.”
“That’s exactly it,” I agreed. “I don’t want a house that’s just a house. I want it to be ours. A place we can make memories, grow together…”
Felix stopped walking for a moment, pulling my attention away from the paper as I caught his gaze. His eyes were soft, and there was a warmth in them that made my heart flutter.
“You know,” he said quietly, “I’ve never really thought about a house being more than four walls and a roof. But now, with you… I can actually picture it. I can picture us, here, in this town, starting a life together.”
The words hit me like a wave, and I had to take a moment to breathe. There it was—he was talking about a future. A real future. The kind I hadn’t dared to imagine, even after all this time.
Felix cleared his throat, as if suddenly realizing how serious his words had sounded. “But… don’t worry. We’ll find the perfect place, I’m sure of it.”
I smiled, squeezing his hand. “I don’t need the perfect place. I just need it to be with you.”
He grinned, the same Felix I had fallen in love with all those months ago. “Then we’ll make it perfect, together.”
We continued walking, the rhythm of our steps matching, the sun hanging low in the sky as we passed house after house, each one a possibility. Some were too big, some too small, but with every house we passed, we both knew we were getting closer. It wasn’t just about finding a place to live—it was about finding a place to build our lives together, to lay the foundation for a future that felt like it belonged to us.
As we turned the corner, a little cottage at the edge of town caught my eye. It had a white picket fence, a small garden out front, and a porch swing. The windows were wide, the front door welcoming. It wasn’t perfect, but it was everything I had dreamed of.
“That one,” I said, pointing toward the house with a grin. “That’s the one, Felix. I can already see us there.”
Felix looked at the cottage, then back at me, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “You sure? It’s not even listed.”
“I’m sure,” I said, my heart racing. “It feels like home already.”
He squeezed my hand, his eyes bright with affection. “Then let’s go see if we can make it ours.”
And just like that, the dream we had been building began to take shape, one step at a time.
The day we got the house felt like a dream. It wasn’t just the house itself, but the life that came with it—the one Felix and I were about to create together. The little cottage with the white picket fence, the porch swing, the windows that let in just the right amount of sunlight. It was perfect, in a way I hadn’t imagined. It was ours, and that was all that mattered.
The move was a bit overwhelming, though. Coming from my parents’ grand estate, I didn’t have much to bring with me. Most of the furniture, the fine china, the lavish things I’d grown up with, were all left behind. My parents didn’t see it as a loss, of course. They had their new home, their new life, but I… I wanted to make this place feel like mine, like it was truly ours.
Felix and I spent hours sorting through boxes, laughing at the mismatched things we had—an old lamp I found tucked in the attic of the house, a couch that had seen better days, and the few sentimental items I had brought along: some old books, a picture frame from my childhood. I’d gotten the essentials, but we were still building everything else.
But there was one thing I didn’t mention to Felix. I didn’t tell him how I’d secretly used some of my parents’ funds to make the purchase happen. The house was just under what they could afford to give me, and after everything had fallen apart with my family, I knew it would be easier to buy something without them finding out.
I could’ve felt guilty about it, but in that moment, all I felt was relief. It wasn’t as though I was taking from them—it was my own money, after all. But still, the secret weighed on me. I didn’t want Felix to know. I didn’t want him to feel as though I was using something that should’ve been a gift from my family to us. I wanted us to stand on our own two feet, even if that meant starting small.
As we unpacked the last of the boxes and arranged the furniture, Felix looked around the living room, his eyes lighting up. “It feels like home, Y/N. It really does.” His words were simple, but they hit me in the chest, making everything I’d done worth it.
I smiled softly, trying to push the guilt from my mind. “Yeah, it does. I think it’s because we’re here. Together.”
Felix grinned, his hands reaching for mine. “You know, this place doesn’t need to be perfect. As long as we’re here, that’s all that matters. We’ll make it our own, no matter what.”
I nodded, feeling the weight of those words settle over me, reminding me that what really mattered wasn’t how much we had, but the love we shared. And as we stood there in that little house, I knew—no matter how we got here—it was exactly where we were meant to be.
#skz imagines#skz x reader#stray kids#3racha#changbin#skz felix#skz chan#skz changbin#skz hyunjin#skz minho#stray kids felix#lee felix#felix x reader#felix#skz fluff#skz smut#skz scenarios#skz#skz stay#stray kids imagines#stray kids jisung#stray kids minho#seungmin#stay#stray kids angst#stray kids x reader#kpop aesthetic
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I was looking through your Odysseus of Troy posts, and one of them briefly mentioned in the tags how a guard made a very creepy comment towards Telemachus and how Odysseus beat him up. It (for whatever reason) made me think of a scenario — three years into his captivity, maybe? — where a guard or someone of that general rank saying or doing something similar to that guard, but instead of immediately turning around and beating them up (the consequences could be far too severe to be worth it), he instead acts as if he doesn’t care/didn’t hear and bides his time. He memorizes the guard’s routine, their schedule and shifts, where they are typically assigned, and after weeks of planning (he doesn’t have much else to do), he sets up a little… incident. Maybe the guard spends a couple of moments on a balcony and, oh no, Odysseus has to run into the hall to tell people that they fell! How unfortunate! Or maybe Odysseus gives them a little push down the stairs. The guard either lives or dies, but if they lived, they’re being scolded by one of their superiors for being so careless and clumsy all while Odysseus gives them his most innocent smile and suddenly, they know exactly who’s responsible. But there’s nothing they can do about it, so they just have to continue on with their life, desperately trying to ignore the burning gaze they can feel on their back every time they pass by a certain room, or walk under a certain balcony.
Okay, that kind of got away from me a bit, but it was a concept I thought was pretty entertaining. It’s always so interesting thinking about how characters would respond in situations such as these, where they have to be very careful with their planning and actions in order to get the best possible outcome with as little repercussions as they can afford. It’s so fun getting into their mindset and figuring out how they navigate certain obstacles or manipulate certain situations in their favor.
Anyway, if you couldn’t tell, I love your AU and it’s going to be occupying my mind for a decent while (a nice way of saying the next month). I hope you have a good day/night :DD
— K
Seeing this in my inbox definitely turned my day into a good one!
Beat the crap out of them? Pfft, amateur.
Psychological torture? Making them paranoid of every shadow & corner? Hammering home how nobody will ever believe them because you'll never get caught?? Now that's the ticket!
#epic the musical#odysseus of troy au#odysseus#asks#he's also hermes' descendant he KNOWS how to pull off the 'i'm just an innocent bbg 🥺' card#one way or another ody is gonna send someone over a wall in every universe
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Next oc colledtion: Jan. He's a surface Alien. They're not quite sure why he can breathe yet.
I like drawing him in hoodies. Even though he never gets t wear them in cannon.
He likes crabs a lot if that wasn't clear. Or anything he thinks is pretty, really.
He's just a little guy.
But if he did get to live a happy normal life like I will absolutely not be allowing, he'd grow up to be a zoologist.
That's the villain, Neo ^ He also apreciates beautiful things. And easily manipulated minds.
#I don't know what to say on these#whalla! my oc whom you don't care about!#I care about him a lot#maybe one day someone else could care for him too#idk#oc#oc lore#character design#worldbuilding#comic concept art#the comic will come eventually#deathbreather
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for like 3 weeks i was wondering why i was sleeping so much and felt listless. and just now I managed to email 3 people and responded to a month old message in the span of an hour because I got back to TAKING MY FUCKIN MEDS..........
#MOTHER FFFFUCKER#to be fair. my doc said I could stop taking them while im on break since i wouldnt need to be constantly pumped on stimulants#im not sure if it was a side effect but i managed to take like 3 different naps in one day and STILL managed to sleep thru the whole night#at least 2 days into my break. the weird thing is i didnt feel more or less rested afterwards. but mentally i think im in a good place rn#to really put the level of awakeness im at rn i feel weirdly confident i could start one piece. also bc of that sick new opening it BANGS#the song is really good and im in love with the animation style. did some digging and it seems one of the lead animators is masato mori#but i could be wrong. it seems he also did some work on mp100 which could explain a lot lol.. he uses smear frames really well to convey#consistent movement and fluidity!!! someone else might have done color design but it works really really well esp with odas style!!#just love the overall vibe and aesthetic and id really love to study it and incorporate a bit of it into my art.. especially the thick#outlines which i think helps to separate characters and objects on screen. though i have to say the style is definitely more suited to#animation bc of the simpleness and smears. maybe that will help me explore shapes and perspective when i draw... i wanna get better#at drawing poses and angles but i have a hard time wrapping my head around space and using perspective guide lines NGHHHH#i wonder if it has to do with my dogshit ability to judge distance. not depth perception but like. judge how far smth is in metres etc#im also wearing an N95 for the first couple weeks back bc of the wave. absolutely NO BODY is wearing a mask its so fucking over#where im sitting ive heard 5 different people coughing probably not into their elbows!!! and im just. head in my fucking hands#there was a kid sitting a couple seats away in class coughing as he pleases and i wanted to grab him in a chokehold so badly. PLEASEE#ive been annoying my family by asking them to mask up and reminding them to bring masks when they go out and showing them news articles#but at least its working bc we ordered some KN95s and my mom is at least taking me seriously so. please dont be afraid to speak up abt your#health. take care of yourself and others however u can!! wear that mask indoors at your maskless friends house!!! stay home when u can!!#im wearing a surgical mask at home too bc my parents have '''a dry throat cough''' and they are so bad at coughing into their sleeves#also im pretty sure dry throat isnt transmissible bc my brother started coughing too so.. i also tested negative but they havent tested yet#im also not a doctor but i have to keep reminding ppl whenever i can that covid and flu work differently. covid is new and too recent to#have nearly as much research done on it. it seems its also compounding so instead of building immunity it weakens the body and spreads to#to other systems which might explain brain fog and muscle weakness. i remember someone early in the pandemic got infected and it messed up#their smell/taste receptors so bad that they cant eat most foods and that stays in the front of my mind when i think abt covid. christ#yapping
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Me, when Sebastian joins my party for the first time: Okay, this time I'm not going to forget about you, Sebastian. I'm going to make an effort to use you a lot this playthrough so I can better understand you.
Also me, immediately forgetting about Sebastian while finishing Act 2 and making it halfway through Act 3 before I finally notice his Faith quest: ......................Oh. Right. My bad.
#da2#dragon age 2#sebastian vael#listen in my defense..........i don't like bringing sebastian anywhere sksksks#okay look i seriously tried but every time i bring him somewhere i always think man i wish i had brought someone else#and also i do just forget about him! i finally added him to my party at one point and he had 24 points to spend...#that's how long i neglected him after i promised myself i was gonna use him more and then i didn't#it's not that i don't like sebastian as a character though i do tend to side eye him A LOT... it's just that i like everyone else more#even aveline like i'd take aveline over sebastian any day and that's saying something... or is it? i have a lot of feelings about aveline#whereas my feelings about sebastian could maybe fill a thimble...it doesn't help that in my canon run as a mage hawke#i romance anders and well... sebastian wants me to kill anders and my hawke is like 'do i approve of blowing up the chantry? complicated.'#'am i breaking up with anders for this? absolutely. do i still love him? mmhmmm. am i going to kill him sebby? i'd sooner set varric aflame#then sebastian threatens to bring an army to kirkwall and leaves so i can't say i have the greatest opinion on him#even the time where i did kill anders and he stayed in my party he was just... there#and then he glitched out and started t posing while asking if ed ever found out what anders wanted to do in the chantry so..... yeah#but even this playthrough where i'm playing as a lady warrior with a different personality and everything... i'd just rather use anyone els#also keep him away from bethany i do not approve sksksks she's too good for him#i want to understand and see the different angles of him like with the other companions but i've yet to convince myself to do it#also sebastian romancers out there can you like... explain? genuinely can you explain the appeal? i'm curious#because of all the love interests in da2 i look at sebastian and you'd think i'd maybe be more interested? but it's like...#i know about the chaste marriage and everything like that's fine i don't need sex to be a thing in the relationship but it feels less like#an asexual romance and more like... y'know... being with a priest and i guess that's just not one of my kinks? sksksks#i guess there's also the prince angle but i romanced alistair in dao and kept him a grey warden i don't really care about royalty power#and i don't have issues with him being a part of the chantry [well i do but yknow what i mean] since i romanced cullen in dai#and his whole deal with the chantry and magic and shit makes his romance interesting to me but sebastian is just.... a bit too much i think#i don't know i'd like to understand because i really don't but i also keep forgetting about him
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I actually realized i hate work. Won't be putting any effort into this anymore ♡
#sure whatever#it's funny because when i applied there i really really wanted this job#and it had nothing to do with that one person i got a little overly attached to#and when i started working there it was fine but i think really the only reason i liked it was because of that colleague#and now he's gone there's only annoying things left#also maybe i got too cuddled by him because he's always had my back until now#but i have to try to get things from the design team now and they just straight up ignore me lmao#like. my colleague asked me last week if i could ask them to edit some images which i did and they ignored me for 2 days#then HE sent them a follow up message and surprise surprise the images were there within 30 minutes#now again. he asked me to request some images and then built them into the journal#i request them. i hear nothing back. i send a follow up saying it's kinda important. i get nothing#oh well sorry man. guess you'll have to do that yourself after all (:#(i think it's really nice he's trying to give me so much more responsibility and all but if he's not there to back me up#it's literally not working because Everyone Is Ignoring Me :)))#also two weeks from now I'll be alone in our office because my other colleague who's in the same office as us#has announced she's gonna go share the office with someone else because she's gonna be alone otherwise#lol thanks#also some other shit someone posted in the group chat today which really pissed me off#AND the fact i got ignored AGAIN when i asked for work :) like bitches. i literally just watched netflix on my private laptop#while wiggling the mouse on my work laptop until i got off lmao#i won't go to the office tomorrow either#i was gonna go but i can't do shit there if i get ignored again#at least at home i can do whatever i want when they decide i should just get money for wasting my time ♡#i might actually just not work tomorrow#I'll probably log in just to see if there's any updates on the images situation but if not I'll fuck right off#fun times#(also maybe just maybe I'm generally a little negative these days. that may play into it. I'm sensing that sweet summertime blues ♡#((who cares if it's because of my father's death or because of my colleague's going away or because of general existential despair due to#university.... i'm just annoyed) )#void screams
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LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - THREE
pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x Sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy, of abortion, health risks & death. chapter one ┆chapter two ┆ chapter four
Two lines.
Two bold, definitive lines.
You blinked. Once, twice, but it didn’t change. It wasn’t going away.
Two lines, clear as fucking day, staring back at you like they were taunting you.
The universe was laughing right in your face. You felt everything plummet to the very bottom of the earth—the room, the floor, your stomach—it all just plummeted, like you’d been pushed off a cliff with no warning.
The test fell from your grip, clattering onto the marble countertop, but you didn’t care. You backed away from it like it was something radioactive, something dangerous that could destroy you if you got too close. But it already had, hadn’t it?
You were pregnant.How could this happen? How the fuck could this happen?
You knew how, obviously. You weren’t that dumb. All you could see in your head was Rafe’s stupid fucking face. His name alone made you want to punch something, preferably his balls.
You were pregnant? With his kid? You were so careful with your life, with your image.
You could feel the resentment rise in your throat again, the taste of acid making you want to scream. He didn’t get to do this to you. He couldn’t ruin your life twice, fuck you up this bad and then just leave. You wanted to hate him. You did hate him. You hated it. And worse, you hated yourself.
There you were, stuck with this. Alone with a baby you didn’t even want to think about. The thought of it growing inside you—of carrying some piece of him, some reminder of everything he put you through these past two months—it was loathsome. He wasn’t part of this, not anymore. And you weren’t that girl—you didn’t want to be. You weren’t the one who begged for him to care, who waited around for him to come to his senses, who made excuses.
You weren't going to cry. You couldn’t. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you physically couldn’t. Not with your makeup done so carefully. Your eyes were lined so meticulously, your foundation blended like a dream, your lips painted in that bold red everyone said you pulled off effortlessly. You couldn’t afford to let your mascara run. He wasn’t worth it.
You weren’t going to ruin all that hard work over him again. No way.
You pressed a tissue to your eyes—not to cry, but to catch the stray moisture that threatened to ruin your eyeliner—and took a deep breath. You smoothed your dress, and made sure everything was in place.
You didn’t have time to figure it out, or wallow, or throw shit around. You straightened your back, lifted your chin, and forced yourself to feel nothing.
Not the panic, not the nausea, not the rage. Nothing.
You could push it all down, shove it into that deep hellish place in your guts where you put everything else. Later, maybe you’d have to let it out.
Just as you were spiraling deeper into the pit, there was a knock on the door. Loud. It made you jump, pulling you out of your head for just a second.
“Hey!” It was Lily, her voice bright, oblivious. “It’s time. We need you out there. You’ve got like three minutes.”
Right. You wanted to laugh at how ridiculous this was.
You stepped out of the room, every movement rehearsed, the smile expertly placed on your lips. You were a master at this—faking it, pretending like nothing in the world could touch you. Not after seeing those two fucking lines.
Your heels clicked on the floor as you walked through the hallway, down the steps, and into the ballroom. It was filled with kooks being kooks. Fake smiles, fake compliments, fake friendships. You weren’t even listening to a word anyone said to you.
“Hi, darling, you look stunning as always,” someone said, leaning in to kiss you on the cheek. You smiled, said thank you, maybe even added a you too, but you couldn’t hear yourself. Your body knew exactly what to do at these things.
Pretend like you gave a shit.
“Your dad would be so proud,” another woman gushed, and you wanted to throw up. You laughed.
If he knew what was happening. Pregnant? By a man who didn’t put a ring on your finger?
And there they were, of course—Topper, Kelce and Ruthie, standing in the middle of it all, grinning like idiots. Well, Topper grinning like an idiot.
Ruthie? That girl was giving everyone her signature snake sneer. Of course she was. The bitch had this superpower of sensing everyone's business before they even knew it themselves.
A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne flutes, and you reached out instinctively, but the waiter, somehow, just missed you. The tray floated right past, and before you could even realize the fact that you didn’t have a drink in your hand, her eyes were on you.
“Oh, you're not drinking?” she asked, voice dripping with fake concern. Her eyes flickered, like she knew something, and you swear to god, your eyelid twitched.
“Not yet,” you replied with the same faux smile.
Ruthie just kept watching you with those too-knowing eyes, like she was looking for a crack, some little tell. Because she always did.
You had to be so careful around her.
One wrong move, one second, and she’d be all over it, spreading it around the entire town before you even had a chance to breathe.
Your cousin, completely oblivious, was babbling with Kelce about something—probably golf, or the new boat his dad bought, or some other thing you couldn’t care less about. You nodded along, pretending to listen, but you were mentally still in the bathroom, staring at those two lines.
“So, you invited Rafe?” Kelce said it like it was nothing, like bringing up your ex-boyfriend was the most casual thing in the world.
“What the actual fuck did you just say?” You all but growled out, enough to make him choke on his champagne.
He looked genuinely confused, as if he didn’t just mention the one person you’d rather hurl off a bridge at the moment. “Yeah, Rafe. He’s on the list, right?”
Your whole body went rigid. You blinked, trying to keep your face from giving anything away, but inside? You were dying. Ruthie’s eyebrows shot up—oh great, now you had her attention too.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Kelce, of course, had the nerve to chuckle.
If Rafe had spoken to them about being taken off the guest list, you’d lose it. The insolence of him mentioning your name—like he still had any right to talk about you? He should’ve buried the memory of you right along with whatever feelings he claimed to have had.
But then, if he hadn’t said a word about it to his best friends—that meant something worse. That meant he didn’t care. He was over it. Over you.
He hadn’t even bothered to tell them that he wasn’t coming to the gala because he wasn’t thinking about it. Or about you.
You hated either possibility.
Kelce like the asshole he was, "I thought you two were—"
"Don't." You cut him off so fast, so hard, he had to take a step back.
You wanted to grab Top by his clueless shoulders and demand answers. Did Rafe care? Was he coming tonight? You didn’t like any option—every scenario made you want to get on a plane to the other side of the world. If he was planning to show up despite being cut from the list…Shit, what would you even do? You could feel the headache starting already.
That would be so him, though.
The arrogance. The entitlement, ignoring boundaries because he never thought the rules applied to him.
Ruthie, of course, was still watching you like a hawk. Her eyes darted between you and Topper, and you could practically feel her mind working, trying to piece together whatever she thought she was seeing. She loved this. She lived for other people’s drama, and you knew she’d sniff out anything that didn’t look flawless.
You did out without even thinking, grabbing Topper’s ear between two manicured fingers like you were his mom dragging him out of Sunday school, pulling him away.
"Ow, Jesus—what the hell?!" he yelped, stumbling to keep up with you in his shiny loafers as you all but hauled him into the nearest corner of the ballroom, out of sight, but still within earshot of the crowd.
You didn’t care. Let someone see. Let them all see.
You turned to him, barely letting go of his ear, your nails tapping impatiently against your crossed arms. He looked at you like you’d lost your mind, and maybe you had.
“Spill it.”
He was still rubbing his ear. “What are you talking about?”
“Rafe,” you snapped, eyes narrowing. “Is he coming tonight? And don’t you dare lie to me, Top.”
He gulped. Actually gulped. You swore you could see the gears turning in that pretty, empty head of his, trying to figure out if he could weasel his way out of this.
“I— I don’t know, okay?” Topper stammered, running a hand through his hair. “I haven’t talked to him today, but I figured… I mean, he always comes to these things, so I assumed—"
That meant Rafe didn’t tell him. That your little stunt hadn’t phased him in the slightest.
“You assumed?” You leaned in closer, eyes burning holes into his skull. “After everything, you thought it was a good idea to just assume he’d show up and not even bother telling me?”
“I can’t put him on a leash!” His voice rose defensively, eyes wide like he was the one under attack. And yeah, maybe he was. Maybe you’d gone full psycho mode. Rafe always turned you into this—this furious, spiraling, out-of-control version of yourself.
Your cousin was just collateral damage.
“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe someone should.” You said it slowly like you were explaining something to a child. “Do you even know what it’s like?” you hissed, leaning in closer, your voice dropping , “To sit here, wondering if he’s gonna show up like some ticking time bomb?”
Topper’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
He didn’t know shit about what you were going through. How could he? He wasn’t the one with a whole life-changing secret burning a hole in his brain, wondering if the father of the child growing inside him was going to ruin everything—again.
“I—I didn’t think it was that serious,” Topper stammered, hands flying up in surrender. “I mean, he’s always been a dick, but—”
You remember the first thing he texted you after weeks of radio silence.
“No,” you interrupted, “He’s more than just a dick. He’s—” You stopped yourself before you said too much. God, you were on the edge, and you needed to rein it in.
Topper, still looking like a kicked puppy, shifted on his feet.
“Look, I’ll text him. I’ll ask if he’s coming or not, okay?” He pulled out his phone, typing something quickly. You watched him, arms crossed, tapping your foot against the marble floor like your life depended on it. If you saw his face—his stupid, beautiful, infuriating face—you didn’t know what you’d do.
Punch him? Scream? Run? The thought of him being here, so close, when you hadn’t even processed what was happening to you…
“Okay, he says—” He paused, squinting at his screen, “he’s not coming.”
The relief. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, shoulders sagging for just a second before you caught yourself. He’s not coming.
But why did it hurt? Perhaps a small part of you wanted him to show up—just to see you, just to care. The other part, however, didn’t. You didn’t want him anywhere near you, or this... this thing inside you.
“See?” Topper said, holding up his phone like it was some peace offering. “He’s not coming. Crisis averted.” He gave you this awkward, nervous smile, like he thought you might hit him again.
You forced a laugh, even though nothing about this was funny.
“Great. Awesome. Perfect,” you said through gritted teeth simultaneously smoothing your dress, and pushing your hair back over your shoulder, “Thanks, Top. Really. You’re a real lifesaver.”
He looked at you like he wasn’t sure if you were being sarcastic or not, but you didn’t care. The moment was over. You’d survived.
You rolled your eyes as you turned away heading back toward your original group. Of course, Ruthie was still standing there her arms crossed, that smug little smirk on her face. She’d been watching the whole thing, no doubt about it.
You could feel her nosy ass dissecting every single move you made.
“He’s not here yet,” she hummed, her eyes narrowing just enough to piss you off. “Weird, right? Maybe he’s busy with Sofia.”
Of course, she brought up that fucking name.
She was sniffing out blood in the water, as if she wasn’t just another Sarah Cameron knock-off. You could already picture it—the headlines, the whispers spreading through the audience, everyone talking about you. The legacy who ruined her own gala.
Kelce snorted, not even bothering to hide his amusement, because of course he thought this was all a joke. He never got it. None of them did.
You wished, for just a second, that you weren’t born into this pristine, high-society life. You felt so smothered by these expectations. If you were anyone else, if you weren’t some debutante raised on champagne and etiquette, you’d have punched her right there. You’d have knocked her straight to the floor and wiped that pretentious smile off her face with blood in front of every stuck-up rich asshole in the room.
“I didn’t realize we were talking about her,” you said, voice like sugar, even though you knew Ruthie could sense the underlying warning in it,“But thanks, Ruthie, for always keeping me updated on things that don’t concern you.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t back down yet.
“Just making conversation. I mean, it is weird that he hasn’t shown up yet, right? Considering how close you two used to be. I’m sure it’s nothing, though.”
Kelce, that asshole, leaned in, "Come on, don't act like you’re over it." His eyes glanced down to your hand. "You’re shaking."
You were. You hadn’t even noticed.
But instead of acknowledging it, you shot him a look that could've killed. "Fuck off, Kelce."
They were trying to get you to admit you didn’t invite him. Well, they’d have to try harder. You’d been swimming around sharks since you were born, no one was going to fuck you over so easily.
“Uh-huh,” Ruthie said, not buying a word of it. Her eyes flicked between you and Topper, and you knew what she was doing. She was fishing. “You sure about that? You were giving him a look.”
You glanced at your cousin, who was still rubbing his ear like a toddler. “Just sorting out some... logistics for the gala,” you said, voice saccharine, but it felt like chewing on glass. “It’s nothing. Really.”
She arched a brow, her lips curling up in a knowing grin. She knew something was off. She always did. “Right,” she said slowly, drawing the word out like she was savoring it. “Because for a second there, it looked like you were about to explode.”
She was monitoring you so closely, you could feel it crawling up your skin.
“You know,” she sighed, like she cared. “If something’s going on you can tell me. I won’t say a word.”
That was rich. Ruthie, keeping a secret? You’d sooner trust a thief with your jewelry. “I’m sure you wouldn’t,” you said, not keeping the sarcasm out of your voice. “But trust me, there’s nothing to tell.”
Ruthie’s pursed her lips, annoyed that she hadn’t managed to dig anything up, “Are you—”
You were two seconds away from shoving her into the nearest fountain. But instead, you took a deep breath, “You should worry less about me,” you advised her, “and more about that atrocious dress you’re wearing.”
The smile fell off her face so fast, it was glorious.
You didn’t wait for her to recover. You turned on your heel, and grabbed Topper by the arm.
As soon as you were far enough away, he let out a breath he’d been holding. “Jesus, I thought you were gonna deck her.”
You grinned, but there was no warmth in it. “I still might.”
He sighed, “She’s still my girlfriend.”
“Yeah, downgrading seems like a thing for you boys.”
Like a guardian angel sent from above, Lily appeared, stepping between you two with a concerned expression.
“Hey, hey,” she interrupted, glancing between you, “What was that about?”
You could see the caution in her eyes. She wasn’t stupid—Lily knew things between you and Rafe had been rocky, and she’d probably been sensing the tension the entire night. But right now, she was doing her best to defuse the earlier situation before it got any worse.
“Nothin’, just Ruthie being herself,” You dismissed, as you grabbed onto her forearm, “Let’s go.”
Lily blinked, startled by your urgency, but she didn’t argue. “Yeah, we should head backstage, the speech is coming up.”
“Bye Top. Stay the fuck away from the chocolate fountain.”
You could hear him whine in the back, “I did that shit once!”
Lily pulled you along through the ballroom, her arm linked with yours, quickening her pace to keep up with you as you nearly bolted toward the back of the venue. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” you bit out, though your voice didn’t even convince you. “I’m fine. I just need to get this speech over with.”
“Uh-huh,” She replied, clearly not convinced, but smart enough to drop it for now. “You got it, don’t worry.”
Finally, you made it to the side entrance that led backstage. The thick drapes and low lighting created a shield, giving you a small moment of privacy before the world demanded your attention again.
Lily stood next to you, gently touching your arm, “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. We can stall, or—”
“I have to,” you stopped her, rubbing a hand over your face, “I can’t—” You didn’t finish your sentence because you didn’t know how to say it. You had no choice.
Lily’s fingers squeezed your arm a little tighter. “Okay,” she said quietly, nodding. “But I’m here if you need me.”
You forced a smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks,” you whispered, even though the words felt hollow in your mouth.
You appreciated her being here, really, but she was blissfully unaware of the pregnancy test in the trash can.
Taking a deep breath, you adjusted your posture, straightened your dress, and ran a hand through your hair, reminding yourself that you’d been here before. You’d stood on that stage so many times.
This wasn’t new. You just had to get through it.
One more speech. One more night. You glanced at Lily, gave her a quick nod, and stepped through the final curtain. Back into the spotlight. Back into the role you’d perfected so well—put together, poised, untouchable.
The low murmur of the gathering hummed in your ears, growing louder with every second. You weren’t ready. You were never going to be ready.
You just needed to remember how to breathe.
The speech was printed and sitting in your hands, it felt like dead weight. You hadn’t even read through it since you’d finished it hours ago, and now, the thought of standing in front of all those people, pretending to have it together—it felt impossible.
Then, in the corner of your eye, you saw him.
Rafe.
He said he wasn’t coming. Topper said he wasn’t coming. But there he was, standing there, watching you just like he always had.
You hadn’t even meant to look. You didn’t do it on purpose, perhaps it was muscle memory, always searching for him. He was standing in the same spot he usually took. Like nothing had changed.
As if he hadn’t ripped you apart.
You tried to focus, but your heart was racing, thundering in your ears.
How dare he? How fucking dare he? Instantly you were back there, that messy, intoxicating space you swore you’d never return to. The one where he controlled the air you breathed. He looked so good. Too good, really. He was wearing a crisp navy suit that hugged his frame perfectly, hair buzzed again.
You should’ve guessed he’d find a way back here, even after everything.
“Are you ready?” Lily whispered beside you, her voice pulling you back from the brink of a breakdown.
“Yeah.”
Your heart raced as you forced yourself to look back at Rafe.
He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t even pretending to look interested. He just stood there, his eyes locked on you, unreadable, unfathomable.
He was still watching you. It felt like could see through your polished exterior. He probably did. He knew you better than anyone else. You wondered what he saw—the confident girl who had always pulled off these events with ease or the terrified woman who was about to pass out from the pressure.
Then, he’s lips lifted slightly. That infuriating, devil-may-care almost there smirk that had made your heart stutter long before everything went to hell. It reminded you of nights spent tangled in sheets, whispers pressed against your skin under the cover of darkness, moments that felt like they belonged in a dream.
You wanted to throw the speech away and storm off the stage, leaving this whole night behind.
Instead, you cleared your throat and gripped the edges of the podium, the cool wood bringing you back to the world.
The words were on the paper in front of you, but you didn’t need to look at them. You knew the speech by heart every year. You’d written it yourself, after all—crafted it with care, knowing exactly what people needed to hear to make their checks bigger, to keep your father’s legacy alive.
It was just a matter of saying it without breaking.
A deep breath, and then you began.
“Good evening, everyone. Thank you so much for being here tonight.”
Your voice sounded better than what you felt, and you leaned into that, letting it carry you through the first few lines.
“We gather here every year for the same reason—to celebrate the incredible work this foundation does, and to honor the legacy of those who came before us. This foundation isn’t just a charity; it’s a tribute. A way to remember those we’ve lost and to carry their dreams forward. It’s about giving back to a community that gave so much to us.”
You paused, just for a moment, glancing down at the speech in your hands, feeling the overwhelming crush of what you’re about to say next.
“For me, this has always been personal.” Your voice softened as you continued, “Most of you are aware I lost my family a few years ago. My father started this foundation. His vision was always to make sure that no one was left behind, that we take care of our own. My mother helped build it. And my sister…” You hesitated, remembering how faultless she’d been, “She was always the heart of it.”
The room was utterly still now, everyone listening intently.
“Tonight, as I stand here, I can’t help but think about how proud they would be of what we’ve accomplished. At least, I hope they’d be proud.”
You allowed yourself a small, bittersweet smile.
“My dad would’ve been in his element, making sure everything was spotless. And my mom, well, she’d probably tell me that the curtains were horrid and needed to be replaced immediately.”
The crowd gave a light laugh, the tension in the room dissipating just a little. You smiled, a real one this time, for the first time in weeks, picturing your mother in her no-nonsense way, criticizing every decoration like it was the most important thing in the world.
“I miss them every day,” you added, “And I’m certain I’m not the only one in this room who’s experienced that kind of loss. It changes you. But it also reminds you to live in a way that makes them proud. And that’s what tonight is about, continuing their work, continuing their legacy, and making sure we do right by them.”
Your grip on the podium loosened, and you looked up, making eye contact with the audience.
“So, to everyone here tonight—thank you. Thank you for believing in this cause. Thank you for your generosity, your support, and your kindness. And thank you for helping me keep their memory alive.”
With that, you stepped back from the podium, the applause swelling around you, but all you could hear was the sound of your heart breaking.
It was over. You did it.
Automatically, your eyes flickered up toward the back corner, the spot where Rafe was standing. You never needed to look before; you’d always just known he’d be there. It was his silent promise to you since you were sixteen. Every gala, every speech—no matter what happened between the two of you—he was there.
But he wasn’t there anymore. The space was empty.
This was what you wanted, you didn’t need him anymore. You were going to get through this on your own. It was the first time he wasn’t there to catch you like he’d always been.
You stood taller, and forced a smile, but as you started to step down from the stage, you felt it.
That stupid fucking warmth.
His hand found your elbow as you and every nerve in your body screamed bloody murder. The applause was still buzzing in your ears, cameras flashing—none of it registered.
All you saw was him.
Three seconds. That was how close you were to snapping. Who the fuck let him in?
You yanked your arm away, the touch burning your skin like it was staining you. You didn’t say a word—just turned and headed straight for the back exit.
Behind you, you heard his footsteps.
Of course, he never knew when to stop, when to let you breathe.
“Can we just—” he was practically jogging after you, his voice strained. “Can we talk like fucking adults?”
You were already halfway down the hall, pulling off your earrings as you stormed toward your suite.
The fucking sheer audacity of this man. You couldn’t even process it—how he could stand there, with his fake-ass calm tone, chasing after you like you were the one being unreasonable.
You threw open the door to the suite you got ready in, the one that was supposed to be your sanctuary for the night and stepped inside, not bothering to close it behind you; you knew he was going to follow you in any way.
He was relentless like that.
You tossed the earrings onto the vanity and glanced up to see he was right behind you now, lingering in the doorway, as if unsure of how much further he could push before you exploded.
He looked at you like he was the victim in all this.
“Can you at least listen to me for a second?” It sounded like he was forcing himself to stay calm.
But that bite was so Rafe.
You spun around, your breath coming out harsh.
“Listen to you? Listen to you? You’ve got to be out of your fucking mind.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but you were already pulling off your heels, the sharp tug at the straps doing nothing to calm your frustration.
He stood there, his eyes on you, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him for more than a second without feeling the betrayal flooding your chest.
Rafe was rubbing the back of his neck in that agitated way he did when he was frustrated. “I came here because I didn’t want to leave things like that. I thought we could be civil—”
“Civil?” You nearly laughed, “You seriously think you can walk in here and be civil after everything?”
His eyes narrowed just a fraction. He moved on his feet, stepping further into the room, and you saw it—the way he rolled his shoulders like he was already preparing himself for a fight. “I came to apologize.”
He ran a hand through his buzzed hair, the same agitated motion you’d seen a thousand times as if he was trying to smooth out the mess in his head.
Your hands stopped mid-motion, your necklace halfway off. You looked at him like he’d lost his mind. "Apologize for what, exactly?"
“For calling you dramatic.” He exhaled like he was doing something noble by saying it. As if he was doing you a favor. “For that text. I was drunk, didn’t mean it.”
He wasn’t apologizing for ghosting you. He wasn’t apologizing for her.
You stared at him, completely floored. He was serious, he thought this was some kind of peace offering. The fact that he thought an apology for that would fix anything? Insane.
“You think this is about that?” You cackled, chucking one shoe to the side, not caring where it landed, and the other followed right after. “Oh my god, Rafe, you are so fucking clueless.”
His expression changed then, brows furrowed, “I’m trying to make things right,” he mutters. “I don’t want you out of my life, okay?”
You threw the necklace somewhere on the ground, your patience gone. “You were the one who pushed me away. You don’t get to waltz in here and act like we can just fix things because you finally feel bad about it.”
He stepped closer, looming over you now, his lips curling into that sneer. “I’m trying to give you a chance to be friends—”
Give you? Like you were some charity case to him? As if you should be thankful.
“I don’t want to be your friend!” You growled in his face, stepping forward and jabbing your finger into his chest, “I’d rather set myself on fire than be your friend, so you can take that chance and shove it up your ass.”
His hand came up to run along his head again, and you saw the way his fingers curled into his scalp like he was trying not to give in to his impulsive thoughts. His breathing was heavier now, too, chest rising and falling quickly.
“Why are you being so difficult?” he snapped, and there it was—the familiar, accusatory edge in his voice. “After what you said about my dad—”
The reason.
The thing that broke you two this time, the thing he’d been holding over your head. You saw the hurt in his eyes, the one thing he hadn’t let go of.
You told him the truth and now it had become the scar he wouldn’t stop picking at. He was hurt. And he was angry, because you’d finally told him the truth about his dad, and it shattered that fake picture he had in his head.
“You’re gonna bring that up right now?” Your voice was so quiet it nearly scared you. “After all the shit you’ve put me through, that’s what you’re mad about?”
“You don’t get to talk about him like that,” he growled, stepping forward. “That’s why we broke up. Because you don’t fucking get it.”
But Sofia did, right?
That was fucking hilarious. She didn’t grow up listening to Ward’s bullshit. Didn’t see the kind of things he’d say or did to his oldest child.
Of course, she would take his side. She didn’t know better.
You shook your head, “No, we broke up because you didn’t like me telling the truth. Your dad was a piece of shit, and you know it.”
For a moment, the air went deadly still between you. You could sense his hurt, the way it sneaked between every bitter word.
Then, he did it—the thing you knew he would, that thing that made your blood boil.
Rafe pulled at the back of his neck again, looking like he might’ve ground his teeth to dust. “Oh, I get it now,” he says, his voice thick with condescension. “You’re jealous.”
Your whole body went borderline rigid, like a door, locked in place.
He was standing there, offering you friendship like a pity prize, calling you jealous when you were standing there broken, trying not to fall apart because of him.
“Jealous?” you repeated, in disbelief. “Of your little pogue girlfriend? Please, fucking spare me. You want me to throw a penny at her?”
He stepped closer, his breath quickening. "She’s real, okay? She’s not some polished barbie pretending in front of everyone, just to fall apart behind closed doors."
Ouch. But you could do worse.
"Real huh?" You scoffed, the bitterness in your chest taking over. "Is that what you call it? Someone who doesn’t know the difference between caviar and fucking canned tuna? That’s the 'real' you’ve been slumming it with?"
"At least she doesn’t care about any of this," he snapped, gesturing to the glittering gala that surrounded you both. "She’s not obsessed with keeping up appearances.”
A cold laugh escaped your lips. He must’ve forgotten to look in the mirror today.
"God, you’re so delusional. Do you think I wanted any of this?” You shot him a look that could cut through steel. "I’m not the one faking it. You are. You are still so desperate for Daddy’s approval that you can’t even see what a fucking mess you are."
Rafe's hands flexed at his sides, his fingers twitching. His nostrils flared, and he tilted his head to the side, running his tongue over his teeth like he always did when he was trying to stay calm.”
"I’m not afraid of who I am," His lips barely moved as he spoke, rolling his shoulders back again, standing to his full height. "You spend so much time trying to be perfect, you don’t even know who you are anymore."
He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin, like a predator sizing you up, his eyes locked on yours. You could see his jaw clench, his chest rising and falling with every shallow breath as he tried to keep his composure.
You took a step closer, your chest brushing against his, your heart pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears. His gaze flicked downward, scanning your face.
"Is that a joke? You spend so much time trying to be your father, you’ve lost yourself. Do you think I don’t see it? You’re so fucking empty without his approval,” Your voice dipped lower, “You’re so pathetic it’s almost sad."
He clenched his jaw again, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. He took a sharp breath through his nose, staring you down with a look that was all Rafe—volatile, unreadable, on the edge of breaking.
Right then and there, Lily burst into the room, her wide eyes taking in the scene like a bomb had just gone off.
"Okay! What is going on in here?" she demanded, her voice sharp but layered with concern. “I could hear you two in the hallway. If something happened, this is not the place to deal with it.”
“You wanna know what happened, Lily?” you started, almost laughing with disbelief. “This motherfucker started seeing someone behind my back. Two months—two fucking months—with no real closure, no answers. And he’s off fucking some pogue.”
“It’s not like that,” He scoffed, pointing a finger in your direction as he took a few steps back, "Don't drag Sofia into this.”
His posture screamed defensiveness, and all you could think was how much you hated the way he said her name. It made you want to throw up, it felt like someone was taking a rusty nail and dragging it down your spine.
He said it so casually, so carelessly, as if it hadn’t ripped you apart. It was the way he said it, with that hint of affection, like she was this delicate, shiny little thing he was protecting, and you—you—were just a threat he had to deal with.
"I'll drag the fucking Pope into this if I have to.”
You were the one who had been there through all his bullshit, you were the one who held him together when everything in his life was falling apart. Now, suddenly, she was the one he spoke about softly. Like she mattered.
It was insulting.
“Guys!”
Lily stepped between you both, throwing her hands up as if she were separating two wild animals about to rip each other apart.
“Please, please calm down. Rafe, I think you should leave. Now."
He looked like he wanted to say more, you knew he had a million things screaming at him beneath the surface, but for once, he stayed silent. Maybe it was the fact that Lily was there, or maybe he finally realized you weren’t going to bite into his bullshit excuses and provocations.
Whatever it was, he took a step back, shaking his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, storming past Lily and out of the room.
You could hear the distant sound of the door slamming as he left.
The moment he was gone, you felt your breath coming out in shallow gasps. Your heart dropped to your stomach, your pulse racing.
Lily turned to you; her face full of concern. She reached out and grabbed your shoulders gently.
“Hey,” she whispered, her voice soothing, “Breathe. Just breathe.”
You pressed a hand to your chest, your breath hitching. Pregnant. You were pregnant with his kid, and this was what you got in return.
No peace. No calm.
Your chest tightened, your vision blurring.
“Hey, hey,” She cooed again, her hands on your arms, grounding you. “You’re okay. We’re going to figure this out. Just breathe, okay?”
You couldn’t believe you’d let it get this far—couldn’t believe you were even in this situation.
There was no way you were having his kid.
Absolutely not.
You didn’t even have to think about it. The decision had been made the second he’d defended her and insulted you like you were sidewalk littering.
Tomorrow, you’d take care of it. You’d book the appointment and that would be that. Clean break, no more ties to Rafe Cameron, no more staying in that fucked up twisted cycle with him.
“I really think you need to sit down and breathe for a second. You’re scaring me sweetheart, and honestly, this isn’t good for you.”
Once again, you pondered telling her everything—about breaking down and spilling every ugly detail. But that would make it real.
Your designer dress clung to you in all the wrong ways, as if even the fabric could understand the order going changes in your body.
“Whoever let him in, I want them fired.”
You spat suddenly gaining momentary strength to ruin lives. It wasn’t just a demand; it was an execution order.
The quiet threat of it was more terrifying than your screaming would have been.
Tomorrow, you’d make sure this nightmare ended before it could begin.
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#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron au#rafe fic#rafe x reader#rafe cameron angst#toxic!rafe#toxic!reader#angst#itneverendshere works✨#rafe cameron series#rafe cameron outer banks#eventual smut#eventual fluff#just angst now#rafe cameron x kook!reader#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron obx#obx 4#obx rafe cameron#rafe x sofia
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Soulbound
Zhongli x GN!Reader (Soulmate!AU)
Summary: Zhongli hated the mark on his neck, and he hated whoever the mark bounded him to. But fate plays a cruel joke, matching him with you, as he swore he would love no one else but Guizhong.
Tags: Angst/No Comfort, Short Story, Rejection, Hurtful Words, Hatred to Love
Soulmark - A mark that binds two individuals as soulmates.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
Morax had always been frustrated by the mark on his neck.
A glowing, permanent part of his body that marks him tied to a soulmate. He thinks its stupid, for the love of his life was already in front of him, a gray-haired inventor that no carving in his body could ever stop him from adoring.
He finds it unbelievable that his neck is claimed by a soulmark yet Guizhong's remain blank, and he curses Celestia above for such a foul joke.
How could he be for anyone else but her?
When her dust settled in the field of glaze lilies he thought were incomparable to her beauty, he was utterly devasted, his clawed hands held onto his neck, wanting to rip the soulmark that had been taunting him for centuries.
How could he be marked for someone else while the love of his life laid lifeless?
He loathed his mark, everything about it, and he will till his last breath.
...
Zhongli deeply dislikes you.
You are a messy, silly, babbling buffoon.
An adventurer from Mondstadt that embodies the nation's will of freedom. Bubbly, carefree, and loud, much like a fellow god he didn't particularly like.
Despite of his disdain of you, your affection towards him never wavered. You filled his somber days with excitement as you joyfully tell him stories about your adventures, share some new recipes you've learned, even ushering him to talk about obscure Liyue historical facts that you've always found interesting.
He was much too proper to shoo you away, and his cold looks and short responses didn't discourage you to try to make friends with the man that peeked your curiosity.
Ever so slowly, you had pried open his caged heart, planting a small seed that was so distinctly you.
He would have accepted you, he would have seen you as a friend... and yet...
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a faint, familiar mark on your neck, revealed when you put your hair up into a ponytail.
Zhongli knew he truly disliked you.
...
"I don't believe in the marks either, Mr. Zhongli..." You reasoned with him, but his gaze still stung you with daggers.
He caged himself back up, ensuring that you could not care for the little seed you planted, no light would be able to reach it again.
His heart would not open...
No matter how many times he catches himself smiling at your antics.
No matter if he displays every gift and trinket you give him from your travels.
No matter how much he preferred your cooking over anyone else's.
No matter how beautiful you look staring up at him with your doe eyes as you confess your affection.
No matter how frustrated he felt at himself when he made you cry as he rejects your feelings.
Because, for him, how could there be anyone else but her?
...
"Do you see why it could never be you?"
You both stood in front of a monument, surrounded by various plants and objects you assume to be from friends of this ancient goddess.
"I bet she was amazing."
"She was perfect. Perhaps that's why I was not worthy to share a mark with her."
At this point, you were used to his words, how they praise her, how they degrade you.
"You're pretty great too, Zhongli..."
Faith places identical marks on the necks of two soulmates, and the rest is a romantic story of the passion that builds up as people pursue their marks of love.
Fate is cruel to you and him.
"That mark is not for you, Y/N." The Geo Archon says to you, tearing you apart silently, as you stand and take his words.
His heart quivers despite the harsh words coming from his own mouth. Even after millennia of having the mark engraved on his neck, after concluding that maybe he would allow your little seed to prosper even just for a bit, he still chooses to cling onto his hopeless past.
Tears fall down from your eyes, but you remain quiet, only nodding in agreement.
You loathed the mark on your neck.
...
Zhongli opens the cage of his heart a little, allowing him to peak at the small sprout from the seed you planted.
So distinctly you, it was the only thing he has of you.
After letting you leave him at Guizhong's monument with tears still staining your face, he couldn't help but miss you.
He couldn't help but let you finally take your place in his heart, after so long of hating his soulmark, hating whoever the mark tied him to, he fears he has finally accepted faith.
...
"Where is it?" He grips your arm harshly, his hold not faltering as you try to shake him off. His gaze was cold, yet you could still catch the hint of alarm in his eyes. "What have you done?"
After weeks... you return to him... missing something.
You winced at the stress of his words, feeling frightened under his tense hold. "I..." His bruising grip didn't falter, urging you to explain yourself. "S-Surprise...?"
"You..." Zhongli looks at you in disbelief. "How stupid could you be?"
"M-Mr. Zhongli... it's a blessing of the Anemo Archon... I prayed for him set us free from fate."
"Y/N... I..." He was at a loss for words, his heart ached as his eyes searched your neck in vain. "Fate... going against it is painful. It must've been excruciating."
"It was... but this if for you, Zhongli..." You smiled, feeling him loosen his grip. "Because I love... loved you." You fully free yourself from him, rubbing at where he previously held you.
The wind around him picked up, and he hears the faint whispers of an old friend along with it. Whispers of comfort, as he clearly ruined what would have been the light of the rest of his days.
Your soulmark fades, but his remains...
Zhongli loathed his mark, for it bears no meaning, no one but him bears that mark.
As you leave, trying to fade away in the background of his life, you remain under a spotlight in his eyes, for you will always be the one that shares his mark, no matter if it is visible.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
What y'all think of this one? :3
I bet y'all's feelings were hurt hehe
#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact#genshin impact angst#genshin angst#genshin impact zhongli#genshin zhongli#zhongli x reader#zhongli angst
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—One more game.
Pairing: the salesman (gong yoo) x winner!fem!reader
Summary: a year after winning your games, an unexpected guest shows up at your door, offering to play one more game of ddakji with you, just for the fun of it, and because you're his favorite winner.
Warnings: mentions of trauma, mentions of blood and gore, violence (basically just you smacking him a lot lol), masochism (<- on him, if you squint really hard?), English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!
Word count: ~ 1k
You almost didn’t answer the door.
It was late—the kind of late where the silence pressed in too close and left you too alone for your thoughts. The rain tapped against the windows felt louder than it should. You hadn’t been expecting anyone. Not anymore, anyways.
Your thoughts drifted to that moment. When you stood on that playground that reflected a childish innocence, yet your hands were trembling, blood drying beneath your nails and painted across your teal uniform, the sound of the final breath and the plea that the other player let out before you swung down the knife with a cold precision that pierced him right through the head. It was over. You won. But it never felt like you were the winner.
The knock had been deliberate, sharp. Three steady raps, not the kind delivered by accident or from someone who might go away if ignored, it broke you out of your haze.
You told yourself you weren’t afraid as you approached, but your heartbeat felt too loud in your ears. Your fingers curled around the lock, hesitating for just a second. Then, you opened it.
And there he was.
The salesman.
You hadn’t seen him since the same rainy day where he found you in the subway station, drenched and cold, in debt—out of money, when he offered to play a simple game of ddakji with you. Not since he handed you a card with a number on the back and disappeared without a trace.
Yet here he stood, wearing the same tailored suit, sharp as ever. His face was unchanged—calm, composed, as if this was just another evening, another game. But it wasn’t.
You could tell by the way his eyes softened the moment they met yours.
He didn’t speak right away. His gaze swept over your face, tracing every detail, as if cataloging how you’d changed. Or maybe searching for the cracks left behind.
Then, his hand lifted.
The red and blue ddakji were already there, pinched between his fingers as though they’d never left. Worn slightly at the edges, but still bold in color. Waiting.
“Care for another game?” His voice was smooth, calm. Too calm.
Your stomach twisted.
The paper. The slap. The start of everything that seemed to haunt you.
It all came back too easily—how the game had started with that simple challenge, the humiliating sting of his palm every time you lost. Until you hadn’t. Until you’d proven you could be a winner, until he handed you that card as a congratulations.
“No.” Your voice came out flat. You started to close the door.
His foot shifted forward, not blocking but close enough that the message was clear: not yet.
“You don’t seem so sure.” His gaze lingered, voice quieter now. More dangerous in its softness. “You’ve played before.”
You swallowed, hating how he made it sound like a compliment. Like something to be proud of.
“I don’t play anymore,” you said, sharper this time.
His lips parted like he might argue, but then—he smiled. It wasn’t smug. Not mocking. Something else entirely. You hated how it made your skin prickle.
His head tilted slightly, fingers flexing around the ddakji. “You won, though. You survived. Out of all of them… you were quite ruthless.”
You shouldn’t have let him say that. But it was too late. Something inside you cracked.
Your hand shot out before you fully registered the movement. A sharp, stinging crack as your palm met his cheek, the impact louder than you expected in the quiet.
He barely moved.
He just stood there, lips parted slightly in surprise. And then—he smiled again, slower this time, his head tipping back, exposing the faint pink blooming across his cheekbone in the dim lights.
It felt less satisfying that he just let the pain settle there.
“There’s that fire,” he said, his voice taunting. “The same fire that got you through the games, that made you kill all those people, hm? I always knew you had it.”
Another slap, harder this time. His head jerked slightly with the force of it, his cheek flushing a deeper red. He exhaled softly, just a breath, but it sounded too much like a gasp, like something he’d been holding back.
And when his eyes met yours again— no smile. Not this time. Just a flicker of something you couldn't understand.
His hand shifted between you, lifting the ddakji slightly as if to remind you why he was here.
“You’ll have to win first,” he said, voice hoarse but playful. “Before you keep doing that.”
The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife, the air too still.
You snatched the red ddakji from his hand, the paper crinkling slightly as your fingers curled around it.
The game began like it had before. The slap of paper against the floor. The silence between rounds, broken only by breath and the occasional hiss when a piece landed just wrong.
But it wasn’t like before, not really.
Because you felt his presence too closely now—the way he watched you, not just your hands but your face, your mouth, your eyes. As if he was searching for cracks in your mask.
So you played harder. Sharper.
And then you won.
The blue ddakji flipped with a sharp slap, the smooth side landing face up, and you felt the victory surge in your chest—not just from the game, but because of him.
Your eyes met his, he didn’t speak, didn’t flinch when your palm connected with his face a third time, but this time—his breath hitched. A subtle, almost imperceptible sound, but it was there.
And his gaze? It was the same as before. The same as that first night when he watched you fight for your life with nothing but paper and desperation.
He took a step back, finally breaking the moment. Rain whispered against the window, the only sound in the room now.
He bent down and picked up the red and blue ddakji, stuffing them into his pockets as his smile returned, and you could've sworn you saw a hint of pride in his eyes.
“Still a fighter,” he hummed.
#the salesman#the salesman squid game#squid game#the salesman x reader#the salesman x you#squid game fic#squid game x you#squid game x y/n#squid game x reader#squid game imagine#squid game fanfic#squid game season 2#gong yoo#gong yoo x reader
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Banished
jason todd x fem!reader
aka jason misses his girlfriend
warnings: extremely mild angst, he’s just mopey (he’s fine)
Jason sits slumped over the kitchen island, head lying in his crossed arms. His now soggy cereal disregarded after barely a few bites.
Dick’s been rummaging through the cabinets for the better part of twenty minutes while Tim has sat atop of the nook table shoving donuts in his mouth for the better part of thirty.
Damian trudges into the room, past them and onto the nook bench, taking out a knife and beginning to whittle away at a block of wood.
He glances at Jason with a scowl. “If you’re going to be so miserable, can’t you do it in your own home?”
Jason just grunts.
He wishes. You and Bruce had conspired to trap him at the mansion for the week so he could heal from injuries sustained during the last mission without risk of him suiting up and sneaking away from you in the middle of the night.
But it’s not even the fact that he’s basically being babysat that’s got him so disgruntled. He secretly wouldn’t really mind it at all if you were here too. But you were dead set that the manor was too far out of your way for work, so you’d stayed behind. A lose-lose for Jason.
“He’s just mad his girlfriend kicked him out,” Dick teases, swiping through the fridge.
Tim snorts from the doorway, “Me too. He’s a lot more depressing on his own.”
Jason keeps his head down as he blindly reaches for the spoon in his cereal and chucks it at Tim’s head.
Tim catches it without thought, continuing, “A lot more irritable, at least. Why isn’t she here?”
“She’s gotta work,” Dick says, scanning through the pantry.
Damian peeps his head up from his project. “But Todd has a rather large supply of less than legally obtained money, does he not?”
“Yeah, but she said she wants to pay her own rent, I think,” Dicks hums, finally giving up on his quest for a snack.
Damian pauses.
“So she wants to live in a tiny apartment?” He asks, a mixture of confused and horrified.
“Watch your mouth,” Jason mumbles.
“It was a genuine question!” Damian protests, face screwed up.
Jason finally lifts his head up, turning to his little brother with a raised brows. “And I’m genuinely going to break your nose.”
It’s an empty threat, maybe. But it was enough to shut Damian up anyways. Jason turns back to his cereal and swishes the bowl around.
Dick rests his arms on the counter across from Jason and speaks lowly. “You know, it is just a few days. She’s coming back.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Jason was never one for showing his feelings—let alone talking about them.
He misses you, plain and simple. Dick could see that much clearly, though the longing looked unfamiliar on Jason.
Bruce lingers in the hallway, just past the island, listening.
He’ll admit (to himself) that he’s worried about Jason. It’s been three days and Jason has yet to show a crack in this demeanor. And while it’s not uncommon for him to stow himself away, there is something quite wrong with the way he hasn’t countered his brother’s jabs at him or teased them.
And while he could do without the blatant threats, he’s proud to hear his son defending his girlfriend, even over trivial things. It’s one of the few moments where he feels like he did right by him as a father.
And now here’s his son, caring about someone else more than he cares about himself. Someone who’s a good person, no less. It had been your idea to trick Jason into staying at the manor, you were scared that he would push his body past its limit when you couldn’t do anything to help.
Bruce knew you didn’t feel great about basically banishing him for the week but he could see that you just wanted what was best for Jason. He could see it so clearly. Maybe Bruce could never have been a perfect father, could never have given his son everything he needed despite having more money than he could ever use. Maybe he couldn’t help him, even now.
But you could.
Bruce peers around the corner, leaning up against the doorframe.
He watches Damian give up on carving at his block and start into the leg of the table.
He watches the bickering that broke out after Tim grab the last glazed donut, which was apparently the only thing Dick could possibly fathom eating.
And he watches Jason.
As Jason’s phone lights up on the counter next to him. He glances down at it with a frown before his face absolutely lights up.
He scrambles to pick the phone up and starts typing away. A quiet action that catches the attention of all of his brothers.
He types and types, waits for ten seconds for a response and types and types again—smile on his face.
The Waynes didn’t need to be the greatest detectives in the world to know who he was texting.
✨ reblog fics or face the block button ✨
#jason todd loves his gf#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd fanfic#red hood x reader#red hood imagine#red hood fanfiction#red hood fanfic#dc imagine#dc x reader#dc fanfic#dc fanfiction#batfam x reader#batfam imagine#batfam fanfic#batfam fanfiction#jason todd x you#red hood x you#batfam x you#batfamily x reader#batfamily imagine#batfamily fanfic#batfamily fanfiction
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‘no matter how much time the king of curses spends with you, he doesn’t think he will ever understand you or your affectionate behaviour towards him.’
☀︎|tags. true form sukuna x female reader. heian era sukuna. fluff. bits of mentions of blood & murder. big size difference. cold-big-monster-having-a-small-soft-spot-for-a-single-human trope. reader gets called ‘little one, brat’. not proof read! let me know if you like my characterisation or not; it’s my first sukuna fic.
a kiss on the cheek is one of the most innocent - yet apparently also the most difficult - things to do. it’s a small form of intimacy; not that hard to do. it’s really as simple as planting your lips on your beloved’s cheek. then all you do is retreat — maybe get a kiss on the cheek back from him. or on the lips.
“get moving. i’m not waiting all day for you.” sukuna grumbles. you had suddenly stopped in your tracks and the king of curses was confused as to what the reason might have been. the two of you had been walking through the courtyard for a few minutes now — well, you basically had to drag him out to take a little stroll together.
and now the same you was quiet. it bothered sukuna; you were always so chatty around him when it was just the two of you. he might have called you an ‘annoying brat’ for it, but he secretly enjoyed your company and voice.
“c-coming.” you reply in a quiet mumble, eyes glancing over at the monstrous frame that stood a few steps away. his dull yet sharp gaze was focused on you — like he was sizing you up. or rather: trying to figure out what’s wrong with the change in behaviour you showed.
sukuna watches you as you hurry over to his side again. he resumes walking, hands folded over each other under the material of his kimono.
though, he couldn’t yet let go of the fact that you were acting different around him. the king of curses’ suspicion only grew once he noticed how your fingers fiddled with your obi. you were anxious about something.
sukuna shakes his head slightly. some humans sure are difficult to understand, he thinks to himself. your happy yet reserved personality when you usually interacted with him had disappeared and made place for a nervous wreck. trying to figure out why made sukuna’s head hurt.
were you finally scared of him? like all other humans and curses were?
he doesn’t know why, but it felt like he would hate for such thing to happen. sukuna usually wouldn’t care if someone resents, fears or somehow even admires him. only you could make him think and care about such difficult and maybe even trivial things.
“uhm,” you break off his train of thoughts and his eyes are instantly on yours again, “may i do something really quickly?”
sukuna’s face doesn’t show any change in expression, but a small nod tells you everything you need to know. you clear your throat, “can you please lower your head towards me?”
lowering his head? oh, you got some guts. if anyone else had said that to him, sukuna would have obliterated them; there wouldn’t have been anything but red bloody dust left of their body.
but then again: it’s you. all exceptions the king of curses makes are for you.
sukuna slightly lowers his head to your level so you could do whatever you needed to. he’d be lying if he said that his curiosity wasn’t piqued. it always was when he was around you.
you gulp. it was time to do what you’ve longed to do ever since the beginning of your stroll: give the ryomen sukuna a kiss on the cheek. you don’t think he’d be mad—at least he never seriously gets mad at you. only to get a reaction out of you since your responses are always ‘intensely amusing’—as he says.
“go on.” sukuna’s breath hits your cheeks. he was so close—too close that it made you even more nervous in a way. as if you hadn’t even had your first kiss yet.
you swallow your fears and just go for it. your lips attach to his cheek in the fraction of a second—the speed of light—before they leave. it was right under his right set of eyes.
you take a step back and clear your throat. you try to escape the embarrassment of sukuna’s possible reaction by continuing your stroll, though were stopped by a strong hand firmly grabbing your forearm.
“where’d you think you’re going?”
sukuna’s deep voice echoes through your ears. you were surprised to hear the tone of it; almost soft. a tone sukuna uses on rare occasions: in your presence.
you turn your head around and smile sheepishly at the king of curses before you. he doesn’t return the same (not that you expected him to), however he does unexpectedly ruffle your hair for a split second. or at least he attempts to.
his large and warm palm lands on top of your head and he gives it a little and subtle shake. sukuna had seen you do a similar action to someone else before, thus he concluded that he could do it to you. maybe as a form of endearment or. . whatever you used it as.
he did find the way you tried to scurry away after giving him a kiss very adorable. even if he wouldn’t say so out loud.
“now, come along. we don’t have all day.” sukuna nonchalantly mutters after retracting his hand. it left as fast as it came, though you were still stunned at the slight show of affection the king of curses returned.
you instantly catch up to sukuna again—walking next to him as fast as your legs could take you. you were a bit more at ease after you got a positive reaction to your little kiss. it was a pity that he didn’t smirk or laugh at you—maybe mocked you like he usually would. but that head pat made up for it.
even if it did leave your hair a little disheveled.
you couldn’t properly see sukuna’s face, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips was undeniably there. even if it was for just a split second.
“how very interesting.” sukuna mutters under his breath so you wouldn’t catch on. he sighs and shakes his head, unable to keep out that memory of you looking so cute—standing on the tip of your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek with your comically small hand on his jaw line. he doesn’t know why he found that to be so thrilling.
you flutter your eyelashes. you were curious about what he might have commented on, “may i ask what you had just said? i didn’t quite hear it.”
a short second of silence hangs before sukuna tilts his head to the right to look down at you again; his face expressionless, but still having a hint of a grin on his lips.
“i said you better hurry before i gobble you up right this instant.” he replies, (playfully) intimidating you with his sharp red eyes that glinted with a form of danger.
you shiver (though knew the threat was an empty one) and instantly pick up your pace. you even get ahead of him, walking as fast as your legs could. you answer with a curt ‘my apologies’ and walk like you actually have somewhere to be.
sukuna’s grin only grows as he sees you get ahead of him. if you had turned around, maybe you could have caught onto that light flicker of affection in his expression.
“i’m coming for you, little one.” sukuna adds just to ignite some more fear into you and you react as expected, “you’re not escaping me today.”
it was a funny sight; your reactions always make him enjoy his time with you even more than he already (secretly) was.
the way his body reacts in mysterious ways when you’re around, is still very much an unsolved riddle to the king of curses. and the reasons as to why you aren’t scared of him and can easily give him all your ‘love’ are also still yet to be discovered.
until then, sukuna will continue to enjoy teasing you.
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#sukuna x reader#jjk x y/n#sukuna x you#jjk fluff#jjk fic#sukuna ryoumen x reader
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