#so mean to me... i will never be happy again

[deepdwellingsteamboat]

RE-ANIMATOR 1985・dir. Stuart Gordon

[rissouu]

I KNOW IM YOUR FAVORITE, gojo satoru ཐི♡ཋྀ

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ in which: he may be your ex, but that doesn’t mean you can just move on.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ wc: 2.9k words.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ warnings: lots of angst, dark content (not really), sexual content, pussy!drunk gojo, stalker!gojo, heavy possessiveness, mentions of violence, pet names, daddy kink, heavy breeding kink, baby trapping (but y/n wants it), gojo sucks ur feet for literally 1 second, yandere gojo (ehh), cunnilingus, overstimulation, toxic!gojo (barely), ex!gojo, and etc.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ notes: okay look this shit is very freaky, and it’s loosely based on the song hold me down by daniel caesar! and gojo is a stalker y’all, this is your only warning babes.. please leave now if you’re uncomfy! he is kinda crazy in this but in a lovingly way.. y’know? not proofread either so not too much on me!

when you walked into your apartment you couldn’t help the exaggerated giggles you let out. it was embarrassing actually, acting like a school girl in junior high all over again. the reason for your happiness was pretty simple— you just had your first date.

your first date since you broke up with your ex, gojo.

that was about a year ago now.. a year since you and the love of your life parted ways. up until recently you’ve never had the guts to put yourself out there again, always scared that one day you’ll just end up hurt again.

but your whole view on dating changed when you met this guy at a grocery store. he offered to pay for your entire cart, and it was well over $300 worth. you found the gesture sweet, and from there you two exchanged numbers.

he was no gojo of course, but you had to move on at some point. it’s already been a year, if gojo didn’t reach out yet, then maybe that meant he’d moved on too.

well.. so you thought.

you were so caught up in the excitement from how well your date went, you barely even realized you were still in pitch black.

“fuck i got so distracted i forgot to turn the lights on.” you chuckled to yourself, flipping the light switch on and hanging your purse on the door.

you didn’t know why but you had a feeling you weren’t alone, like someone was watching you— or better yet breathing right down your neck.

the house was eerily quiet, so quiet you could hear the drop of a pen. but something felt off about your apartment, and you were never one to ignore your instincts.

just as you were about to retreat and run out the door, a familiar voice had you stopping in your tracks.

no. fucking. way.

“where were you?” the achingly familiar man smiled, trying his best to hide the dangerous aura oozing from his body. he knew exactly where you were, and always have. you didn’t know it yet— but he’d been watching you for a while now. ever since you dumped him which was more than a year ago now.

technically it was stalking.. but he didn’t like to call it that. in his mind, he was more of a guardian angel— just making sure you’re okay and still breathing.

how else would he check on you since you blocked him on everything else?

the white haired man was sitting on your couch with his head tilted— clearly waiting for an answer although he already knew where you were to begin with. it was pretty easy to keep tabs on you.

you stared at him, a small frown forming across your face. you were feeling weak in the knees. the first thing you wanted to do was jump on him and tell him how much you missed him.

but you knew you couldn’t do that, not anymore. the two of you just didn’t go together, or at least that’s how you felt a year ago. you couldn’t get back with him, you wouldn’t. no matter how much it hurt.. it was better than dealing with his unstability.

“what are you doing in my house, gojo?” you folded your arms— staring back at him with the same expression he was giving you. that’s what he loved about you, you weren’t easy.

with the blink of an eye, he was up from the couch and coming closer towards you. the man easily towered over you so to say he was intimidating was an understatement.

instead of answering your question he just stared at you with a blank expression— and you did the same exact thing. this was common with you two, just staring at each other in silence until one of you dared to speak up.

about five minutes later, gojo finally cracked. you silently praised yourself for being able to last longer than him.

with a low chuckle, he shook his head— slightly licking over his lips. “i think im the one asking the questions here, hm? so answer me.”

you scoffed at his arrogance, seems like some things just never change. “i was on a date if you must know, now get the hell out of my house.”

as soon as you got your words out he couldn’t help but to laugh. honestly, gojo didn’t even know what was so funny, maybe it was the way you said it.. you really thought you held some type of authority?

“and now you’re laughing at me? what’s so funny?”

that only made him laugh more, truth be told gojo wasn’t even trying to laugh, but you trying to be somewhat “mean” was taking him out because you were nothing like that.

you were one of the kindest people he’d ever met, so this little act you had on was amusing to him.

“shit, im sorry!” he clutched his stomach, letting one last chuckle out before continuing. “it’s just.. you really think im falling for this little act of yours?”

your face was quick to scrunch up— finding every bit of his words disrespectful. but it was gojo, so what could you really expect? his bluntness would probably be the death of him.

“excuse me? need i remind you, we are not together anymore gojo!” your voice came out a lot shakier than you’d hoped for it to. what the hell was going on with you?

“well clearly i know that, or else i’d go and kill that fucker you were out with tonight.”

throwing your hands in the air you muttered a strand of curse words, it’s impossible to get through to someone as hard-headed as him. “please just see yourself out.”

before he could respond, you walked off toward your room. you didn’t have the energy to deal with him or his childish antics, he’d already managed to ruin your entire mood. all this did was remind you why you keep your heart locked away— because of arrogant assholes like him.

“there’s no need to be rude, y’know? i just wanna talk to my favorite girl.” gojo followed you to your room— just like you knew he would. god, he’s so annoying.

it looked the exact same as the last time he was here except for the empty wall where the pictures of him used to hang. he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his chest heavy, and heart pang in sorrow. could you really have been done with him for good this time?

“whatever, just don’t get on my bed.. i don’t know where you’ve been.”

‘stalking you’ he chuckled to himself before completely disregarding your request, and plopping down on your bed anyways.

you decided not to scold him for doing exactly what you said not to do. that’s just who gojo was, no one could boss a man like him around.

you weren’t even being serious either. in hindsight, you really did enjoy having him around. as much as you hated to admit it.. it reminded you of the old times, when it was just you and him against the whole world.

“i missed you, y’know? you just up and left without a word.. and next thing i know im blocked.” even though he tried to hide it you could hear the pain in his voice. losing you was like losing a piece of him too, he couldn’t stand it. he couldn’t stand the way you made him feel.

the only reason the man was able to keep it together was because he was watching you, ensuring you weren’t completely out of his life.

it sounded crazy. hell— it was crazy, but when it came to you he’d do anything.

“i know.. & im sorry for the way i handled that. i just felt like we needed to move on, try new things…”

“i don’t want to try new things!” he scowled, quickly sitting up from the bed to face you. “i want you.. just you. that’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

the air was thick, and the room felt like it was caving in. your body was practically on fire listening to him say the words you’d been craving to hear.

“and about that date of yours..” he cooed, running his hands up your thighs and slowly spreading them. “we won’t be worrying about him anymore, will we?”

that little date was never a threat to gojo to begin with. both you and him knew that, but he took manners into his own hands just to mark his territory.

gojo made sure to corner the poor guy as soon as your date was over, and needless to say.. a few threats were all it took. you should be happy he didn’t do worse, it ran across his mind to kill the poor guy at first.

“i..if we do this then no more bullshit okay?” your soft hands gripped his chin as you forced his beautiful blue eyes to meet yours. “none of that childish stuff this time. we’re both grown so we need to act like it, we’ve had a whole year to fix ourselves.”

every time the two of you got back together it turned into complete chaos. gojo wasn’t the best man out there, and you weren’t the best woman. both of you had your own flaws regardless, but you two needed each other.

that was well established the first 10 times you guys broke up, and unsurprisingly you always ended up back in each other’s skin.

gojo’s gaze on you was heavy, almost as if he was trying to study your every breath and blink. all of the dumb, childish expressions on his face from before were far gone.

“yes princess, whatever you want.” he softly spoke as he sunk his head into the skin of your stomach, littering you with soft kisses. “i’ll do whatever you want..”

gojo spoke so gently— his voice softer than ever as he pushed you on your back, wrapping your legs around his shoulders.

you stared at him intently, waiting to see what he would do next. one thing about gojo was he always had something up his sleeve, and part of you knew where this was headed.

when his rough hands gripped the waistband of your flimsy skirt, you didn’t complain. actually you found yourself wanting more, longing for more.

“y’gonna let me get a taste baby? missed her s’much,” soft lips trailed up your thigh— leaving small bite imprints on the flesh. this was his way of staking his claim on you, marking you as his and only his.

you couldn’t stop the shaky sigh that fell from your lips, or the silent nod you gave to your ex-boyfriend for him to continue.

the grin that spread across his face was taunting almost, and intimidating. when that skirt of yours was out of the way, gojo moved on to the black-lace panties. his personal favorite.

“so what, you wearin’ these for other people now?” the fucking nerve of you, he couldn’t believe this. to stoop that low.. well that just won’t do. it seems like he had a few things to correct now that he was back. “fuckin’ answer me. be a good girl for me, yeah?”

your eyes locked with his and all you saw was silent fury, you could tell he was pissed. “not wearing them for anybody toru. just didn’t have any clean ones,”

a lazy grin covered his face at the remembrance of his old nickname, the way it fell from your lips so softly always managed to send heat straight to his dick.

he finally got his girl back.

faint kisses to your cunt had your legs shaking in anticipation— and the soft gasp that left your lips did nothing but egg gojo on as his tongue met your aching clit.

“pussy’s still fuckin’ pretty as ever,” with a low voice his eyes were closed shut, in hopes to savor every last bit of you. when his hands came up to your thighs he couldn’t resist the urge to spread them even further.

the man wanted to explore every inch of you since it’s been so long. so so long since he’s spent some personal time with that pretty pussy of yours.

“w..wait- fuck toru!” you whined when his lips found their way to your pulsing clit, folding his tongue up and down the gooey slit.

his assault to your pussy didn’t stop there. next his thumb was sliding down your sticky folds, not stopping until it was past your tight walls.

your mouth fell open at the intrusion. his thumb wasn’t long but it was thick, causing a bigger stretch than you’d expected.

“so good. taste’s s’good princess,” gojo mindlessly babbled, every word sending vibrations straight to your pussy.

gojo felt like he was out of his body. out of his mind, and he hadn’t even been inside you yet. just what the fuck were you doing to him?

finally fed up with the throbbing ache in his pants he latched onto your clit for a third time, giving it one last kiss before pulling away.

the man couldn’t wait any longer— he needed to be inside you, and he needed it now. before you knew it he was sliding off his sweats and everything underneath it, leaving him completely exposed.

your pussy throbbed just from the sight of him.. you didn’t know how much longer you could wait either.

“don’t worry mama, im ready for ya’.” a low chuckle left his throat when he saw you were just as desperate as him. “you ready for me?”

his blue eyes met your low ones when he slapped his tip against your folds. next he was sliding inside of your pulsing hole with ease, forcing your mouth open.

“o..oh my gosh!“ you winced at the familiar stretch, your walls involuntarily clenched around his dick— trying to push him out.

“n..no- fuck. none of that, y’hear me?” gojo whimpered at the feel of being squeezed, he couldn’t even move you were squeezing him so tight.

the man hovered over you, lips grazing your ear as he coaxed you. “let me in baby, you can do it. i know you can,” he whispered, wrapping his hand around your neck and resting it there.

his words of encouragement had you opening up quicker than he expected, and with every second he was inching deeper into your pussy. gojo felt like he was in a dream— or better yet, on cloud 9. after all that time you still feel the exact same, heavenly.

his strokes were gentle at first, but they sped up when he realized how long he was away from you. a whole year.. never again.

“n..never ever gonna let you keep this shit from me again.” gojo groaned with an edge in his voice that you couldn’t recognize.

your shaky hands wasted no time sliding under his shirt, feeling on the happy trail that covered his v-line. “not gonna take it away toru, ‘s all yours!”

gojo grinned at your words as he pressed onto your lower stomach. with his free hand he gripped onto the back of your thighs and brung your freshly done feet up to his mouth.

his lips wrapped around your toe— eyes locking with yours as he sucked on it. his strokes only got deeper, and you whimpered at all the different sensations at once.

“‘m not gonna pull out,” he admitted as he switched from sucking to leaving small kisses on your foot. “gonna cum so deep in this pretty pussy. never gonna leave me again.”

you were so out of it. drool everywhere, hair messy, tear stained cheeks.. anything gojo said went in one ear and out the other. the man could do whatever, you didn’t care.

“mm yes, don’t pull out. want it s’bad, fill me up please!” small whines filled your throat when you felt a familiar pressure in your abdomen, your pussy wrapping around him even tighter than before. how was this even possible?

gojo’s pace got faster, strokes sloppier.. he was slowly but surely losing all the sense of control he once had before. “f..fuckk ‘m gonna cum toru, so close!”

you gasped when his thumb flicked your clit, looking up at the blue eyes that never left your frame. your legs shook in overstimulation and you didn’t know how much longer you could hold it in.

“let it out mama, you’re okay. gimme all of it- shit.” he hissed as his dick twitched at how tight you were squeezing. “fuck fuck fuck, you’re gonna be such a pretty mama. s..such a pretty wifey, all f’me.”

you threw your head back as chills covered your entire body. the both of you were completely out of touch with reality, not caring about anything but the feeling of one another.

“‘m cumming toru! mhmm ‘m cumming,” you exclaimed, bringing your hand to his stomach. it wasn’t long before the built-up pit in your stomach finally snapped, coating his dick in a ring of your juices.

gojo was close behind you, a whimpering mess as his stomach tightened. before he knew it he was filling you up— spilling his load inside of you, not a drop to be wasted.

“f..fuck yeah. take it mama, it’s all yours. all for you.. gotta give you everything.” he chanted praises as he gave you one last stroke, pushing his cum even deeper into you where it belonged.

your voice was shaky when he called you, so shaky that at first you thought you wouldn’t be able to respond. but even so, you did.

“you’re never leaving me again, understand?” the edge in his voice was back, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your stomach do flips.

“yes toru, i understand.”

if there’s anything you learned from this at all.. it’s that you could never leave a man like gojo satoru.

©rissouu 2025 (this one’s for dulce y’all so thank her, it took me forever *sigh*)

[succubusvalentine]

Butcher!Simon Riley watching you fuck up wagyu. CW : bad steak cooking. Fluff.

He’s trying to hold himself back, lovie. He swears it. But Jesus Christ you’re handling that Wagyu he procured horribly.

He felt his stomach twist as you didn't let it sit. Then it twisted even more as you over seasoned it.

"Baby, are you sure you don't want me to cook dinner?" Simon gritted out.

"No! No no, Si. You always work so hard" you reassure with that sweet smile that completely melted Simon into a puddle of goo.

Simon doubled his glass of whiskey as he watched you turn the heat up too high on the stovetop. But you looked so happy and proud of yourself as you burnt seared the wagyu.

After a while, Simon clutched his glass tightly as you cut the wagyu with the grain. Not against it.

You put the plate in front of Simon, and while the mash and roast vegetables were delicious. The wagyu...not so much. As soon as Simon took a bite, it was like trying to chew through a tire. You definitely overcooked it. And the seasoning was...well, it wasn't great.

"Good?" you asked hopefully.

"Absolutely delicious, lovie" Simon smiled. Lying through his God damn teeth. He couldn't bring himself to dampen how proud of yourself you were.

You sat across from Simon and cut into your steak, taking a bite, only to immediately grimace and force it down.

"Jesus Christ don't eat it" you grimace with a whine, taking Simon's plate as he chuckled. "Why didn't you tell me it was bad?!"

"You looked so proud of yourself, sweetheart. I didn't wanna make you pout"

"I am never touching wagyu again. You're making it next time...And we're ordering pizza"

Simon chuckled as you pouted, ordering the pizza as he pulled you into his lap. "It was a real sweet thought, lovie" he hummed as he rubbed your stomach, laughing again as you glare at him playfully.

But don't worry, the following night Simon made the best steak you'd ever eaten.

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

this was heavily self indulgent because I can make a mean mash potato, but any meats? I am HORRIBLE.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Run, Run, Run II

Leila Ouahabi x Reader

Summary: Your new life

Your feet pound on the concrete of the pavement, rain drip-dropping down your skin.

The rain of Manchester had been difficult to get used to when you originally moved, used to the sun of Spain and the warmth on your skin as you completed your morning run.

The rain wasn't something that you were surprised about but it was still something that you've had to get used to.

You've had to get used to a lot actually but one thing, for better or for worse has stayed that same.

Your damned attraction to female footballers older than you.

You'd been burned by Alexia. That was all you could think about those first few weeks. How every memory with her was stained with fire and flames and an overwhelming heat that made you lose your mind.

But she had cheated and you had promised yourself to never be like your mother - to never stay with someone that disrespected you like that.

Your father was a damned near perfect father. He took you to all of your track meets and he'd never missed a parent-teacher evening in his life. He bragged about you to his co-workers.

But he had never been a perfect husband, cheating on your mother multiple times but she had still stayed, happy in the relative normalcy she has with your father.

You'd promised to never be like her so the decision to leave Alexia and flee the country didn't take as much thought as you thought it would.

And now you're in rainy Manchester, drying off your hair with the handy towel that hangs up in the entrance hall for you to use exactly for these moments.

"You're back?"

You smile as you rub the towel over your hair.

"I said I would before you left me."

"Left you? I'm only going to camp."

You sigh dramatically, pressing the back of your palm to your still damp forehead. "And leaving me here, all alone! Locked in this prison!"

"You were the one that decided on this apartment? You said you liked the open plan arrangement? We have a balcony?"

You press a soft kiss to Leila's lips. "You knew I was only joking. But I will miss you when you're at camp."

"I'll miss you too. Are you sure you can't come to the match?"

You nibble on the inside of your cheek.

Your life with Leila was practically perfect in every way. She was so in tune with you and your needs. She knew when you needed a break from cooking dinner or doing the grocery shop. She knew exactly when you needed a little pick me up like flowers or chocolates or even a long cuddle session in bed.

Everything was perfect but you just can't bring yourself to go back to Spain in that way, to put yourself in a situation where you'll be so close to Alexia again, the woman that you had once thought would be your wife some day.

"Baby..." You say, looking up at Leila," You know I wouldn't put you in that situation. Alexia...I don't want her to try to ostracise you from the team."

Leila sighs. "She's never done such a thing. Even...Even during...you know..."

"I know but it might be different. I mean...with me and her, it was...I don't know. I don't want you be at risk."

"I understand," Leila says, forehead pressed against your own," But if you did want to come, I've got a ticket reserved for you, alright?"

"I'll...I'll think about it. I promise."

Leila thinks about it too, all throughout camp. It circles through her mind like a dog with a bone. She wakes up thinking about. She goes to sleep thinking about it.

You've watched plenty of her matches at City, where you've become a favourite of the fans without even meaning to. You're a constant presence in the stands with a cup of whatever warm drink you poured yourself before leaving the house.

She's lost count of how many of her Panini stickers you've signed for fans before coming down onto the pitch to greet her.

But you've never come to one of her matches for Spain, not with Alexia on the team, the ever lurking looming presence of your relationship.

Leila's never really seen her captain in the same way since. She's a good captain, an amazing player but Leila's learnt how to separate those aspects of Alexia to the one that she knows you experienced, the one that had tried to manipulate you into staying in a relationship, the one that had tried to promise you everything to stay with her even after cheating.

Leila can separate the Alexia on the pitch to the one off of it but she knows that is something you can't do.

The Alexia on the pitch and off the pitch has always been the same Alexia to you. There is no separation of who she is and Leila can accept your decision to stay away for that reason.

But it still doesn't stop her from wishing you would come to see her play.

The option is open for you but Leila would never hold it against you if you decided not to.

There were plenty of other games for you to go to.

"So..." Codi wheedles during breakfast before the match," Where's the girlfriend?"

Leila almost chokes over her cereal. "At home."

"She isn't coming?"

"She has the option if she wants. She's busy."

Codi rolls her eyes. "She's always busy during international break. She's got to come at some point."

Leila rolls her eyes. "She's her own person. I won't force her to do anything."

"You've got a new girlfriend?" Alexia asks, looking up from her phone.

Leila looks back down at her bowl, swirling the milk around with the back of her spoon. "I...Yeah, I do. She's great..."

She bites her tongue, swallowing back what she actually wants to say, all of the things she wants to spit at Alexia on your behalf.

But she doesn't.

Leila stays silent, swirling her cereal around as the conversation moves on.

The pass is perfectly weighted from her on the pitch a few hours later, speeding through the legs of opposition players for Alexia to slot neatly into the net.

The rush of an assist runs through Leila as she turns to look into the stands.

You're sitting there, amongst the cheering of the fans.

Leila had seen you earlier, a surprise in a hoodie to cover your hair but your girlfriend could just see the Spanish jersey poking out from under it.

She suddenly finds herself praying that it's hers.

She'd even take it being blank.

Because Leila knows Alexia noticed you earlier, had seen you when the big screen focused on the crowd during the warm ups. She had seen Alexia stare at you. She had seen the aborted movement Alexia made towards you, like she was about to abandon the warm ups to go up to you - sweetly saccharine tone at the ready to convince you to go back to her.

Leila hopes that if you do have a name on your shirt, it's not Alexia's.

[rosemariiaa]

~Caffeinated Crush~

𐙚- pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚-synopsis: Paige works at a bookstore, and Azzi is the girl who comes in every day but never buys anything. When a spilled coffee incident occurs, she learns Azzi is sketching her in a nearby cafe.

𐙚- this is so cuteeeee, yes i am still currently working on chapter 3 of RMH so you’ll have that soon, but for now enjoy these cuties! happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚-themes: fluff, au

𐙚- taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @makethemhoesmad @sierrale8ne @ohbueckers @juspeaks @imaginespazzi @pbaz7 @bueckersbitch @xxloveralways14 @d3arapril @lupinqs @pazzilover101 @ashortyluvsports @absolutelydreadful

enjoy!!!

I should’ve never let Nika get in my head.

My thumbs hover over the screen of my phone as I scroll through yet another endless TikTok, airpods blasting maybe the best R&B playlist handpicked by the queen. Anyway, the store is empty—of course it is. It’s barely 10 a.m., and no one is running to a bookstore this early unless they’re sixty or a morning person.

Not me, though. I’m here because Nika decided to call me lazy last week and the whole team agreed. Said all my NIL deals made me too comfortable, like I didn’t just have the Big East Scholar of the Year award, not to be cocky or anything but doesn’t that mean i’m smartest to ever exist? Exactly. But no, she just still had to run her mouth, so now I’m working this dumb part-time job at “Bound and Brew,” where the only exciting thing is the smell of cinnamon wafting in from the café next door.

Speaking of which, I mentally add a bagel to my lunch break checklist. Asiago, toasted, extra cream cheese—don’t judge me.

I glance at the clock on my phone. Still early. My chin rests in my palm as I lean on the counter, half-heartedly refreshing the store’s Instagram page. No new likes. Big surprise. God, I have practice tomorrow, and for what?

My earbuds buzz with a notification, but before I can check, the door chimes.

My eyes flicker up, and there she is. The girl with the brown, coily hair.

She’s been coming here for weeks now. Never buys anything, just walks around, poking through shelves like she’s on some personal treasure hunt. I’m pretty sure she works at the café next door—I always see her there, either taking orders or perched by the window with a book in one hand and a green matcha latte in the other. Matcha. It’s alright, I guess, but I can’t help the silent judgment. gatorade > tea.

Her eyes meet mine as she steps inside, and I clear my throat, pulling out one earbud. “Hey, what can I do for you?”

She smiles softly, the kind of smile that’s more polite than warm. “You’re fine. I don’t need help yet.”

Her voice is quiet, soft enough that it almost doesn’t match the confidence in the way she carries herself. She’s bundled in a gray puffer coat, her pink sweatpants tucked into winter boots. The UConn shirt under her jacket catches my eye.

She goes to my school? Weird. I’ve never seen her on campus.

I nod, going back to my phone, but I can’t help the way my eyes track her as she moves through the store. Her hands graze the spines of books, pausing occasionally to pick one up, read the back, then put it back in place.

She doesn’t rush. There’s something careful about the way she lingers in each aisle.

I shouldn’t be looking (staring) at her like this.I really shouldn’t, but her hair is just…nice. Thick curls that spring with life, framing her face like something out of a painting. And her skin? Smooth, glowing, the warm tone almost golden under the soft overhead lights.

Wow. I’m really gay.

I snap my attention back to my phone, pretending to scroll. My heart’s doing that annoying thing where it skips.

When I glance up again, she’s at the door. Leaving already. She didn’t pick up a book or anything again.

The door chimes softly as it closes behind her, and I’m left staring at the empty space where she just stood.

She’s really, really pretty.

And just like that, I’m shaking my head, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Get it together, Paige.

This is supposed to be a job, not some secret queer daydream.

By the time my lunch break rolls around, I’m practically counting down the seconds.

The café next door is my safe haven. Warm, cozy, and always smelling like cinnamon and espresso. It’s everything the bookstore isn’t. I step inside, stomping the snow off my sneakers, and head straight for the counter.

There’s no line, which is a small miracle, but then I see her pretty face again.

Brown curls, her same shirt, pink sweats, and those same bright eyes. She’s standing behind the counter, tying an apron around her waist.

Oh.

I knew she worked here! Scholar of the year i told you.

“Hi,” she says when she spots me. Her voice is just as soft as before, but there’s something about the way she looks at me that makes my stomach flip.

“Hey,” I reply, trying to sound casual. “Can I get an asiago bagel, toasted? Extra cream cheese.”

She nods, her hands already moving to jot down the order. “Anything to drink?”

“Just a black coffee,” I say. “Simple.”

She glances up briefly, the corner of her lips quirking like she’s amused. “Simple’s good.”

Her gaze lingers a second too long, and I feel the faintest heat creeping up my neck. There’s something about the way she’s looking at me, like she’s trying to figure me out but doesn’t want me to notice. I definitely noticed.

I glance at her name tag, needing some kind of distraction. “Azzi,” I murmur under my breath. It suits her.

She catches me looking, her cheeks tinting the slightest pink as she fiddles with the pen in her hand. “It’ll be ready in a minute,” she says quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Thanks, Azzi.” Her name rolls off my tongue easier than I expect, and the way her eyes widen just a little makes it worth it.

Azzi ducks her head, pretending to check the order screen, but I can see the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. She’s shy, reserved even, but there’s something so genuine about the way she carries herself. It’s almost refreshing.

As I wait, I glance around the café, the hum of chatter and clinking mugs filling the space. A few students are hunched over laptops in the corner, and there’s an older couple sharing a slice of cake by the window. The atmosphere is cozy, intimate, like something out of a movie.

“Bagel and coffee,” Azzi calls softly, placing my order on the counter.

I step forward, and for a split second, our hands brush as I reach for the tray. Her fingers are warm, a stark contrast to the cold outside, and I swear I see her inhale sharply before quickly pulling away.

“Thanks,” I say again, trying to meet her eyes.

“You’re welcome,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper. She hesitates, like she wants to say something else, but instead, she bites her lip and busies herself wiping down the counter.

As I turn to leave, I catch her glancing at me again, her gaze lingering on my face before quickly darting away.

I smirk to myself, holding back a chuckle. So she does notice me.

Sliding into a seat by the window, I take a sip of my coffee, my eyes drifting back to Azzi. She’s leaning against the counter now, flipping through what looks like a notebook, nah definitely a sketchbook. Her curls bounce slightly as she moves, and there’s a faint smile on her lips, like she’s lost in her own little world.

For some reason, it’s hard to look away.

I finish my bagel way too fast, but instead of leaving, I sit there for a while, pretending to check emails on my phone while sneaking glances at her. She’s busy now, taking orders and chatting with customers, but every once in a while, her eyes flicker over to me.

It’s subtle—barely noticeable—but it’s enough to make my chest tighten.

When I finally get up to leave, I make a point to walk past the counter.

“See you around, Azzi,” I say, letting her name hang in the air.

Her head snaps up, her eyes wide with surprise. “Yeah, uh—see you,” she stammers, her cheeks flushing as she fumbles with a stack of napkins.

I chuckle to myself as I step back into the cold, the warmth of the café lingering in my mind.

This job might not be so bad after all.

—

The next morning, Paige finishes practice, her muscles aching but her mind buzzing with anticipation. She now knows Azzi works morning shifts, and though she tells herself she’s just stopping by for breakfast, there’s no denying the extra pep in her step as she drags Nika along with her to the café.

As they walk in, the comforting aroma of coffee and freshly baked goods fills the air. Paige’s eyes scan the room, immediately finding Azzi at the counter, focused on a stack of receipts. Her heart skips a beat.

Paige shrugs off her hoodie, tossing it onto the back of a chair at an empty table by the window. She and Nika sit down, glancing over the breakfast menu. Paige tries to act casual, but Nika, ever observant, leans in.

“Calm yourself down and find something to get.” Nika pipes up.

“Shut up,” Paige mutters, burying her face in the menu.

Just then, Azzi glances up and notices them. Her expression softens, and she waves, a shy smile spreading across her face.

Paige beams back, her cheeks tinged pink as she waves back.

“Hi,” Azzi greets, approaching their table. Her soft voice makes Paige’s heart flutter.

“Hey,” Paige responds, a little too quickly.

“What can I get you guys?” Azzi asks, pulling out her notepad.

“I’ll have eggs and a croissant,” Nika says, glancing between Paige and Azzi with a knowing smirk.

“I’ll take some pancakes,” Paige says, handing Azzi the menu.

Azzi jots down their orders and looks up. “What would you like to drink?”

“Orange juice,” Nika answers.

“And—” Paige starts, but before she can finish, she and Nika both say in unison, “Coffee, black.”

They burst into laughter, and Paige sneaks a glance at Azzi, whose dimples appear as she smiles.

“Got it,” Azzi says, gathering the menus and walking back toward the counter.

Paige’s eyes linger on her retreating figure, her gaze drifting downward until Nika snaps her fingers in front of her face.

“Yo twin, is that the girl you keep talking about in your sleep?”

Paige’s head snaps toward Nika, her eyes wide. “What? In my sleep?”

Nika leans back, smirking. “Yeah, I heard you last night saying her name over and over again. ‘Azzi, Azzi,’” she mimics, feigning a dreamy voice.

Paige’s face flushes. “Shhh! I don’t—whatever, I just say random stuff when I’m sleeping.”

“Sure, sure,” Nika says, winking. “But you keep staring at her. And she keeps looking over here.”

Paige shrugs, slipping into her usual cocky demeanor. “Well, I mean, it’s me. Can you blame her?”

Nika rolls her eyes. “Cocky ass.”

A few moments later, Azzi returns with their food. She sets Nika’s plate down first.

“Thank you,” Nika says with a grin.

As Azzi places Paige’s plate in front of her, she hands her the coffee. But before Paige can grab it, another worker bumps into Azzi from behind, sending the coffee spilling onto Paige’s shirt. Azzi stumbles forward, gasping as she falls right into Paige’s lap.

“Yo!” Paige snaps, turning to the worker. “Can’t you watch where you’re walking? You just made her fall.”

The worker mumbles an apology and scurries off as Azzi scrambles to her feet, her face burning red.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Azzi stammers, her voice shaking.

Paige brushes it off, trying to calm her down. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. But I do need a new shirt now.”

Azzi looks stricken. “I—I think I have an extra one in the back. Come with me to the bathroom?”

Paige stands, turning to Nika, who is smirking like the Cheshire Cat.

“Shut up,” Paige warns, flipping her off as she follows Azzi.

In the bathroom, Azzi motions for Paige to wait while she fetches a shirt. As soon as she leaves, Paige peels off her stained hoodie, leaving her in a sports bra and sweats. She grabs a paper towel, wets it at the sink, and wipes the remaining coffee off her stomach.

When Azzi returns, she pauses for a moment, her eyes widening slightly before she quickly hands Paige a black t-shirt.

“Sorry again,” Azzi murmurs.

Paige grins as she pulls the shirt over her head. “You’re good. Thank you.” She smooths the fabric and gives a playful twirl. “See? Good as new.”

Azzi giggles, her dimples deepening.

Paige’s expression softens. “You have a really pretty smile.”

Azzi ducks her head, her cheeks flushed. “Thank you,” she says softly. “We should probably head back before my boss notices.”

“Lead the way, Miss Azzi,” Paige says, motioning dramatically toward the door.

As Paige returns to the table, Nika raises an eyebrow. “Everything good?” she asks, smirking.

“Shut up,” Paige mutters, sitting down.

Once they finish eating, Nika and Paige pack up to leave. As they’re about to walk out, Paige glances around, hoping to catch one last glimpse of Azzi. When she doesn’t see her, she sighs and heads for the door.

Just as she steps outside, she feels a light touch on her back. Turning, she finds Azzi standing there, holding a folded piece of paper.

“Hey,” Azzi says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted to say sorry again about your shirt.”

“I told you, it’s okay,” Paige says, smiling. “Things happen. And I love my new shirt.”

Azzi smiles nervously, then holds out the paper. “Okay, um, don’t think this is weird, but it kinda is? but it’s also- anyway I wanted to give you this.”

Paige takes the paper and unfolds it, her eyes widening at the detailed sketch of herself.

“Woah,” she breathes.

Azzi shifts on her feet. “It’s okay if you don’t like it. I just did it for fun.”

Paige fakes a pout. “And here I thought you did it because you liked me.”

Azzi blinks, her cheeks flaming. “Well… that too,” she admits quietly.

Paige grins, her confidence swelling. “This is so good I could literally kiss you right now.”

Azzi’s voice drops to a whisper. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Paige steps closer, her hand cupping Azzi’s cheek as she leans in. Their lips meet, soft and tentative at first, before deepening into a kiss that leaves them both breathless.

When they pull apart, snowflakes drift around them, settling in their hair. Paige grins. “So, if I asked you on a date right now, would you sketch me again?”

Azzi laughs, her dimples showing. “Maybe.”

“Pretty please?” Paige pleads, pouting dramatically.

Azzi rolls her eyes playfully. “Fine fine. Since you’re begging.”

Azzi glances over Paige’s shoulder, spotting Nika in the distance, pumping her fist in the air and yelling, “Go gays!”

“Isn’t that your friend?” Azzi asks, raising an eyebrow.

Paige groans, dragging a hand down her face. “I don’t know her.”

[4linos]

they call you clingy pt. 2

ot8 x fem!reader

genre: slight angst. hurt/comfort. fluff. (mostly) happy endings.

wc: 8916

(read they call you clingy pt. 1 first)

bang chan

When Chan returned home later that night, he was overwhelmed with guilt. He expected to be greeted with a warm embrace, maybe even a soft joke about how awkward he had been earlier. But when he entered your shared bedroom, he was greeted with silence. The lights were dark, and you sat on the edge of the bed, back to him. "Y/N?" He called out quietly, almost pleading.

You did not respond.

Chan's heart fell as he got closer, but you flinched when you felt him behind you. He stood there for a while, unsure of what to do, before finally speaking, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say what I said. It was a terrible joke. Please… please look at me.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough for him to see the tear tracks on your cheeks. Your eyes were red and swollen, and your expression was tight, like you were holding everything in. The sight broke him, and he stepped forward, kneeling in front of you, trying to meet your gaze.

“I didn’t mean it, Y/N. I was frustrated, and I let it all out in the worst way. I’m so sorry, I should’ve never said that. You’re not clingy. I don’t think that at all. I was wrong. I never should’ve made you feel that way.”

You shook your head slowly, your voice cold. “No, you meant it. I heard the way you said it. You don’t want me around. You think I’m suffocating you.”

“I don’t,” Chan whispered urgently, his hands reaching out to touch yours, but you pulled them away. “I don’t think that. I swear. I don’t want you to think that at all. I just… I don’t know what came over me.”

But you didn’t want to hear it. You wanted to believe him, but the words still stung too much. The way he had looked at you with indifference, how he dismissed your presence like it was something burdensome. It wasn’t just the words it was the way it made you feel so small, like you weren’t wanted.

You stood up suddenly, avoiding his touch. “I just need some space, Chan. Please. Just leave me alone tonight.”

Chan flinched, but he didn’t argue. He nodded, his heart breaking as he quietly walked out of the room. He knew he had crossed a line, and the weight of that reality hit him hard. He didn’t sleep well that night, tossing and turning on the couch, feeling the distance between you both like a wall that couldn’t be scaled.

The next morning, Chan woke up early, with his mind still filled with guilt. He'd apologized the night before, but he knew it wasn't enough. He needed to express how sorry he was and how much he cared. He crept quietly into the kitchen and began preparing breakfast, hoping to get it right for once. When the smell of pancakes and coffee filled the apartment, he returned to your bedroom, gently knocked on the door before opening it slightly.

You sat on the side of the bed, looking out the window. Your back was still turned to him, but when you heard him enter, you had stayed still.

Chan took a deep breath, his voice soft. “I made breakfast… for us. Please, can we just eat together? I want to talk.”

You didn't say anything at first, but eventually nodded and stood up, following him into the kitchen. You both sat silently, the tension hanging between you like a cloud. Chan pushed the dish of pancakes toward you, his hands shaking slightly. He took a breath and spoke again, his voice full of earnestness.

"You were not clinging, Y/N. I was wrong. You aren't suffocating me. I adore having you around; I always do. I… I'm not sure why I said that. My frustration clouded my judgment, and I hurt you. I'm really sorry."

You didn’t answer right away, but the tightness in your chest slowly loosened. You looked up at him, seeing the genuine regret in his eyes. His usual bravado was gone, replaced by a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before.

You sighed softly, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. “It just hurt, Chan. I… I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

“You’re never a burden,” he said quietly. “You’re my partner. I want you to be with me. Always. You nodded, the words finally sinking in. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have shut you out.”

He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. “No, I deserve it. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you both ate in silence, the unspoken understanding between you filling the room with a quiet comfort. The hurt was still there, but you knew you could heal it together.

lee know

The warmth from the burns on your leg persisted, but the coldness in your chest stung the most. You sat on the edge of the bed, carefully placing a cold compress against your skin, hoping that the discomfort sting would ease.

Your mind was racing, trying to figure out what had just transpired in the kitchen. Minho, your Minho, had yelled at you, and the words cut worse than anything physical could. You couldn't understand how it had come to this.

You had tried so hard to help, to lighten his burden, but instead you had made matters worse. The kitchen was a wreck, your leg was on fire, and your heart felt like it had been ripped open by the very person who had always made you feel safe. You wanted to believe it was just a moment of frustration, something that could be forgiven, but the distance between you both felt insurmountable.

When Minho’s voice called from the living room, it felt like the world’s weight pressed on your chest. “Hey... can we talk?" He sounded tired, but there was an undertone of hesitation, as if he wasn’t sure if you’d even listen.

You didn’t respond, hoping the silence would send the message you weren’t ready to face him just yet. But moments later, the sound of his footsteps in the hall brought you back to reality, and before you could register, he was standing in the doorway of your bedroom.

His expression shifted from confusion to panic when he saw you sitting there, the cold compress against your leg, and your tear-streaked face. His eyes widened, a rush of guilt flooding over him.

"What... what happened?" His voice was quieter and more uncertain now. He took a step forward, peering down at the reddening skin on your leg. "I—oh God, did you burn yourself?" His eyes scanned yours for a response, his hand quivering slightly as he reached out to touch your leg. You didn't say anything. You couldn’t find the words. The burn hurt badly, but the heaviness of his words in the kitchen made it intolerable.

Minho's hands shook as he gently led you to lie down on the bed. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" His voice cracked slightly as he rubbed a cool cloth on the burns, the chill alleviating the sting slightly.

You finally let yourself to cry, tears rocking your chest and the emotional weight coming down on you. You didn't understand how much you were holding back until the tears started pouring freely. "I-I'm sorry for the soup," you said through sobbing. "I didn't mean to ruin everything. "I just... wanted to help."

Minho's face softened, expressing regret and disbelief. He wiped your tears away with his thumb, his voice barely audible. "Stop. I don't care about the soup. Not when you're hurt. "Why didn't you tell me you were in pain?"

His words felt like a balm to your wounded heart, but they didn’t erase the ache. You buried your face in his chest as he leaned down to kiss your forehead gently, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m so sorry for what I said. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. You don’t deserve that... you never deserve that.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten even more. You clung to him, your arms wrapped tightly around his torso, needing his warmth, his presence. “Minho... I just—everything went wrong today. And then you... you made me feel like I was a burden.” Your voice trembled, and the weight of your emotions finally broke free.

Minho’s arms tightened around you as he whispered into your hair, “I never meant to make you feel that way. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you. But you are not a burden. You never will be. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You could feel his hands softly comb through your hair, comforting you as you kept crying into him. The tears weren't simply over the soup, the burn, or the day's failures. It was all about trying to keep things together, to be strong, and not show how overwhelmed you were. And everything came tumbling down in his arms. "I should have been there for you today." "I should have seen how much you were struggling," Minho said, his voice thick with regret. "I'm not upset at you. I should never have said that. I'm so sorry."

You nodded into his chest, the tears slowly subsiding as his comforting words washed over you. Despite everything, despite the mess and the hurt, there was still love between you two, even if it was lost in the chaos for a moment.

“I love you,” Minho whispered, his hand gently wiping away the last of your tears. “Please, forgive me.”

You pulled back slightly, meeting his eyes. There was nothing but tenderness there now, no trace of the frustration that had clouded his expression before. “I love you too,” you said, your voice still shaky, but steadying. “I know you didn’t mean it. I just... I just had such a bad day. Everything went wrong, and I was just trying to fix it... and I ended up making it worse.”

Minho kissed your forehead again, his lips lingering for a moment. “You don’t have to fix everything. You don’t have to carry it all alone. I’m here. I’ll always be here. Let me help you.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief settle over you as his arms wrapped around you again. “I’m sorry, too,” you whispered, hugging him tighter. “I just... I wanted to help you. To make it better. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

“I know,” Minho whispered back. “And you didn’t make it worse. I promise.”

As the silence between you two grew, the storm within you began to calm. It wasn't entirely mended yet, but for the first time that day, you felt like you weren't going through it alone. You felt at ease in his embrace, and you gradually began to hope that things can get better again.

changbin

Changbin's breath came out in weak, raspy gasps as he stood there watching you walk away. Every instinct in his body shouted for him to go after you, to draw you back and explain himself, but something in the air held him still. The severity of his own words resonated in his thoughts, a jarring reminder of the damage he had just done. You were hurt. And now, so was he.

He watched as your form disappeared through the exit, the door closing softly behind you. The gym suddenly felt suffocating. The weight of his own anger and frustration, which he had not yet fully comprehended, seemed to settle in his chest like a stone. He turned over, and his face flushed, his head dizzy with regret. He never wanted to make you feel like this, never wanted you to feel like a burden. His mind was spinning with confusion, but one thing was painfully clear: he had messed up. Badly.

He stood there for a long time, eyes fixed on the door, as if begging you to return, but he knew it was pointless. He had said too much. The damage was done.

You'd never felt smaller than you did at that time. Changbin's words felt like a hefty blow to the chest, knocking the air out of you. You weren't expecting him to snap. Sure, he'd been distant before, but this was different. The sharpness in his voice, the way he stared at you with irritation and anger, hurt in ways you couldn't articulate.

You didn’t know how long you had been walking for when you found yourself in the parking lot, your car now looming in front of you like a silent reminder of what had just transpired. You stood there for a moment, your hands trembling as you fumbled to unlock the door. The cold night air bit at your skin, but the chill in your chest felt much worse.

Why was he so angry?

You understood that sometimes people needed space, but you had no idea that your presence, which you expected to bring you closer, would make him feel overwhelmed. The realization hit you hard: He had been letting you to follow him about because he didn't know how to express his need for space. And, in the end, when he exploded, it broke the fragile link you had formed with him.

Your eyes stung with the promise of tears, but you pushed them away. You weren't sure if you were ready to let them fall yet.

You got in the car and drove aimlessly at first, wanting to get away and clear your mind. The drive seemed to go on forever, but you couldn't escape the agony in your chest. You eventually pulled over onto a quiet street and parked. You allowed the silence to settle in, the only sound being the faint hum of your car's engine.

Your phone buzzed, and you looked at it nervously. It was a message from Changbin. Your finger hovered over the screen, unsure whether to open it or not. But the yearning for an explanation, some attempt to make sense of it all, was overwhelming. So you opened it.

Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted. Can we please talk?

You bit your lip, your eyes scanning the words over and over. His apology felt sincere, but it didn’t erase the sting of what he had said. How could it? And yet, a part of you still wanted to hear him out, to understand where he was coming from, even if it hurt.

You debated texting him back. Part of you wanted to ignore him, to hold onto the distance you felt was needed right now. Another part wanted to reach out, to explain that you weren’t trying to smother him, that you just wanted to be close.

Instead of responding, you did the one thing you never thought you’d do: you called him.

The phone rang a few times before he answered. “Y/N?” His voice was soft, hesitant, almost nervous.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Can we talk?”

A long silence passed. You could hear him take a deep breath on the other end. “Yeah. I think we need to.”

-

Back at the gym, Changbin had barely managed to collect himself before his phone buzzed in his hand. When he saw your name on the screen, he almost couldn’t believe it. He had messed up so badly, and yet, you were still willing to talk to him. His heart beat faster as he swiped to answer, his voice coming out quieter than he intended.

“Y/N?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t imagining this.

“I… I’m still upset, Bin,” you said, your voice shaky. “I don’t know what to think. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was invading your space. I just… I wanted to be close to you.”

“I know,” he whispered, guilt flooding his chest. “I should’ve told you sooner. It’s not your fault. I don’t want you to feel like that… like I’m pushing you away. But I just… the gym was the one place where I could just be by myself, clear my head. And when I didn’t have that anymore… I didn’t know how to handle it.”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “I didn’t know. I thought… I thought you’d like it. That maybe it would be something we could do together.”

“I do like spending time with you,” he said, his voice steady now, more sincere. “I really do. But I didn’t realize how much I was taking it out on you. I didn’t mean to hurt you. And I’m sorry for how I said it. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. You’re not a burden to me, Y/N. You’re the last person I want to hurt.”

You closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself. “I just wanted to be close to you. I didn’t realize I was making you feel suffocated.” There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I know. And I should’ve communicated better. I just didn’t know how.”

“I understand,” you replied softly. “I just… I need a little time. To process this.”

Changbin’s heart sank, but he understood. “Yeah. I get that. Take the time you need. But please know I’m here. I don’t want to lose you over something that should’ve been a misunderstanding.”

You inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of the conversation. It wasn’t fixed, not yet, but you could feel the tension easing a little, the sharp edges of the pain starting to soften.

“Okay,” you said quietly. “We’ll talk more when I’m ready.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Changbin replied, his voice full of warmth despite the distance between you. “I’ll be here.”

The call ended, leaving a quiet, uneasy space between you two. You were unsure where this would lead or what would happen next. But perhaps, just maybe, you can find your way back together.

hyunjin

The next morning, you woke to a cloud of confusion still hanging over you. Hyunjin's remark from last night, as well as the way he pushed you away, played on an unending loop in your memory. The hurt was still fresh, but you were beginning to wonder why. Why had everything changed so dramatically? Why had Hyunjin, who you had always trusted, suddenly become distant?

You'd barely slept, your mind knotted in a web of despair, confusion, and betrayal. Everything seemed odd as you tried to get through the day. The calm hum of your daily routine had been replaced by a heavy silence in your chest. Your phone remained silent, and you weren't sure if that was a relief or something else entirely. You couldn’t decide whether to hope Hyunjin would reach out to explain himself or whether it was better to just forget it all.

But then, in the late afternoon, your phone buzzed. It was a text from him.

Hyunjin: Can we talk? I need to explain.

Your stomach twisted, both nervous and cautious. You stared at the message, weighing the possibility of opening the door to this conversation. You didn’t know if you were ready to hear whatever he had to say. Still, part of you needed answers, even if they were painful.

After a few moments of hesitation, you typed back.

You: Where?

Hyunjin: Meet me at the park in 30 minutes. Please.

You took a deep breath and, despite everything, found yourself getting ready to meet him. Part of you was angry, but there was another part, the part that still missed him, that needed to understand. You had always believed in the strength of your friendship. You didn’t want to just throw that away without knowing what had really happened.

When you arrived at the park, the air felt cool against your skin, and the trees around you swayed gently in the breeze. The park was quiet, mostly empty, with only a few scattered joggers. You found him near a bench, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, his posture tense. He stood as soon as he saw you, but neither of you moved closer at first. There was an awkwardness between you two that felt thick enough to cut.

“Hyunjin,” you said softly, your voice almost faltering. "You wanted to talk?"

He nodded but didn’t say anything right away. He just stood there, staring at you as if he wasn’t sure how to start. Finally, after a long pause, he exhaled sharply and took a step closer.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice low and unsure. "I know I hurt you last night, and I—I need you to know that wasn’t my intention. I’ve been… I’ve been a mess, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I don’t know how to deal with these feelings.”

You furrowed your brows, the confusion growing. “Feelings? What are you talking about?”

Hyunjin seemed to hesitate, as if he was unsure whether to voice the words out. But after a moment, he added, his voice breaking slightly: "I—I like you. More than just a friend. I had for a while, but I wasn't sure how to deal with it. So I tried pushing you away. I figured if I detached myself from you, it would go away. That I could let go of these feelings."

The words struck you like a thunderclap. For a while, you just stood there, your mind spinning, trying to make sense of what he had just revealed. Hyunjin... liked you? Was it why he had been so distant? All the time you'd spent wondering what had changed, what had gone wrong… it was this?

He looked at you, his eyes full of vulnerability, guilt, and something else that you couldn’t quite name. “I didn’t know how to deal with it, and I thought… if I pushed you away, I could just forget. But the more I tried to ignore it, the worse it got. And last night, I just… I didn’t know how to act around you anymore. So I lashed out. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You stood there, silently absorbing his words. The knot in your chest relaxed, but it was replaced by something else: a rush of feelings you couldn't quite describe.

You had no idea how to handle this revelation. You had been wondering what had happened to your friendship, why things seemed so tense, and now it all made sense. But it was overwhelming. You never saw it coming.

"I don't know what to say," you confessed gently. "I did not..." I didn't realize you felt that way. All I saw was you slipping away, and I wondered if I had done something wrong. I didn't realize it was about this."

“I should have told you,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I was so afraid of ruining everything, of losing our friendship. But instead, I ended up pushing you away. I thought if I could stop being close to you, I could stop feeling this way. I was wrong."

You felt a mixture of emotions rise up relief, anger, sadness, confusion. But beneath it all, there was something else: you understood now. He had been trying to protect himself, even if it meant hurting you in the process. It didn’t make his actions right, but it made them a little easier to comprehend.

“So what now?” you asked, your voice softer than before.

Hyunjin took a step closer, his gaze intense. "I don’t expect things to go back to how they were immediately. I don’t know how to fix this. But I want to try. I want to be honest with you now. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. But I couldn’t keep pretending anymore. I couldn’t let you think you didn’t matter."

You paused for a long moment, the weight of his words sinking in. Part of you still felt hurt, but another part of you your heart, maybe was softening. You had always cared about him. The idea of more than just friendship… it was a lot to process, but you realized that in some way, you were willing to listen, to figure out what this meant for the two of you.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” you said, finally meeting his gaze. “But I’m not going to lie and say I don’t care. I do. I care a lot. We just need time. To figure this out.”

Hyunjin nodded, his eyes filled with a quiet hope. “I’ll give you time. I won’t push you. I just needed to say it. To be honest.”

The two of you stood there for a while, neither of you moving, but there was a shift a change in the air. For the first time in weeks, it felt like there might be a way forward. Maybe it wasn’t simple, maybe it wasn’t easy, but at least you had the truth. And that, you realized, was enough to begin again.

HAN

The silence lingered for what seemed like hours, the kind of silence that enveloped you both like a thick cloud. You hadn't moved, still curled on the bed, eyes locked on the wall, as if it might give some answers. You couldn't get the idea that something inside of him had permanently shifted, that whatever had cracked tonight had been building up for a time and was now beyond your control.

Jisung said nothing, did not try to pull you closer, nor did he give his usual soothing words of regret. But he had not left either. His presence next to you, despite its normal comfort, suddenly felt like a distant recollection, a piece of him that had vanished.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you heard him shift on the bed beside you. His voice was barely a whisper, but you could tell he was struggling, his words thick with emotion.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you could hear the weight of the apology, like he had been holding it back for so long it had become a raw, painful thing.

You stayed silent, not sure what to say. He had hurt you, and though you wanted to forgive him, you couldn’t shake the sting of his words. His harshness had cut deeper than anything he’d said before, and you weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion of the day, or something more, something that had been building up between you two for a while.

“I didn’t mean it, Y/N,” he continued, his voice shaky, as if the apology itself had become difficult to express. “I’m just… I’m just tired. I don’t know how to deal with everything. But that doesn’t excuse how I snapped at you. You don’t deserve that. You never do.”

You eventually allowed yourself to turn towards him, your gaze scanning his face, and you saw the weakness there, the same vulnerability you had always seen beneath his normal confidence. His fists were clasped in his lap, and his shoulders bowed, as if he were bracing for the impending storm.

"You are not a burden, Y/N." "You're not clingy," he continued quietly, his voice much lower now, as if the apology was gradually peeling away the layers of irritation and hurt. "I just.. I'm not always sure how to let you in. I am so overwhelmed that instead of accepting your help, I push you away."

Your heart squeezed. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was battling with himself, trying to figure out how to make it right without knowing how.

“I’ve been so used to dealing with everything on my own,” he continued, looking at the floor as if he couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. “I didn’t want to burden you with my problems. I didn’t want you to see me as weak. But instead, I ended up hurting you.”

The vulnerability in his words hit you hard, and it took everything in you not to reach out and wrap your arms around him. You knew he had been struggling, you knew it. But hearing him admit that he had been keeping things from you, afraid of showing his true self, only made the ache in your chest grow.

“I don’t think you’re weak,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. “I think you're strong. But you don’t have to do everything by yourself, Jisung. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

He shook his head, eventually meeting your eyes. His eyes were filled with sadness, but there was also a quiet desperation in them, as if he didn't know how to mend the rift between you two.

“I just... I'm so sorry. I don't know how to ask for help," he said, his voice full with sorrow. "But when you try to help me, I... I push you away because I'm not sure how to let you in. But you aren't a burden, Y/N. You have never been one. I just didn't know how to handle anything on my own, so I ended up pushing you away when all you wanted was to be there for me."

The honesty in his words was almost too much to bear. You had always known Jisung to be someone who wore his heart on his sleeve, someone who could make light of even the darkest situations. But now, seeing him like this, so raw and open, made your chest tighten.

“I don’t want you to push me away anymore,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to help you. But I can’t help you if you keep shutting me out.”

Jisung's lips twitched, as if he wanted to say more but couldn't find the right words. Instead, he simply nodded, the impact of his quiet screaming loudly. He didn't need to say anything else because you could feel the pain in his chest and all the frustration he'd been carrying around for too long.

For a long time, the two of you merely sat there, your quiet now distinct. It wasn't the crushing stillness of earlier, but one filled with empathy, even if neither of you understood exactly how to mend anything.

After a while, Jisung reached out, his hand hesitating before softly stroking your arm. The warmth of his fingers across your skin brought back memories of how simple things had been between you two. He didn't say anything unnecessary, but you could sense his apology in the way he held his hand there, letting you know he was sincerely sorry.

"I'll try to do better," he answered simply and softly. "I will try to let you in more. I do not want to push you away anymore."

You nodded, your heart still heavy but not as broken as it had been moments ago. “I just want to be there for you, Jisung,” you said softly. “I don’t want you to have to go through everything alone.”

The quiet stretched again, but this time, it felt different. It felt like a beginning. Neither of you knew how to fix everything right away, but you both knew that you wanted to try. And sometimes, that was enough.

Jisung shifted closer, his hand still resting on your arm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel so distant from each other. There were still things left unsaid, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that you were both here, both willing to try again.

felix

The hours passed by in agonizing silence, the kind that made everything seem more impossible than it actually was and stretched and clawed at your thoughts. Nothing could take away the icy emptiness that had descended between you and Felix, even as you lay there, wrapped up inside yourself, listening to the gentle buzz of the night.

When the world got too much, he would wrap up with you and reassure you with soft touches and quiet words. You recalled the warmth you had previously enjoyed. Now, it felt like a lifetime ago. His distance was more than just physical; it was something that made your chest hurt since you didn't know how to make it better.

But as much as you wanted to lie there, to let the hurt consume you, you couldn't. You couldn't just wait and wonder if things would somehow improve on their own. You were the kind of person who needed closure, who needed to understand what was happening. And right now, Felix was slipping through your fingers, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

You sat up, wiping at your tear-streaked face, and glanced towards the living room. The faint glow from the TV still flickered through the hallway, casting a cold light on the darkness of the apartment. You could feel the weight of the choice pressing down on you: Should you leave him be, give him the space he seemed to want, or should you push through, confront him, and demand answers?

You hesitated for quite some time. But then you made a decision. You needed answers. You needed to understand why the person you loved had abruptly shifted into someone you didn't recognize. You moved along the hallway, the apartment's silence more oppressive than before.

Felix kept his position on the couch, his eyes looking blankly at the TV, his posture tight and walled off. You stayed there for a moment, studying him, trying to determine whether he noticed your presence.

His eyes didn’t leave the screen. His face remained unreadable.

"Felix," you said again, your voice steady but laced with emotion. This time, there was no hesitation in your tone, no softness. You needed him to hear you.

He didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel the tension in the room shift slightly, as if he knew you were waiting for him to say something. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, quieter than before.

“I told you I don’t want to talk,” he said, almost in a whisper. But this time, the words weren’t as sharp. There was something else in his voice, something you hadn’t heard before. It wasn’t anger, but a deep exhaustion, a weariness that seemed to go beyond just physical fatigue.

You didn’t take a step back this time. Instead, you closed the distance between you, sitting on the arm of the couch, your hand brushing lightly against his. It was small, a gesture that once would have meant nothing, but now it felt like everything. You needed him to know you were still here, that you hadn’t given up.

“Felix,” you repeated, softer this time, your voice trembling with vulnerability. “I know something’s bothering you. And I get it. You don’t have to talk right now, if you’re not ready. But I need to know—am I the problem?”

When you asked the question, his head snapped towards you, his eyes wide with amazement, as if he had never considered it before. For a brief moment, his gaze softened, and you thought you caught a glimpse of the old Felix, the one who used to share everything with you, the one who would always turn to you when the world got too much.

"Of course not," he said gently, his voice husky. He took a deep breath and wiped his face with his palms before running them through his hair. "You aren't the problem. "I just...I’m a mess right now, okay? I did not mean to push you away. I didn't know how to deal with it, and I thought if I could draw back, maybe it would get better.”

His words hung in the air, and for the first time in what felt like days, you understood. Felix had always been the strong one, the person who seemed so capable of handling everything on his own. But now you saw how much he was struggling beneath the surface, how much he had been hiding.

"You don’t have to carry it all alone," you said, your voice gentle but firm. "Felix, we’ve always been a team. You can lean on me. You don’t have to push me away just because you’re having a hard time."

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze flickering to the floor, then back up to you. The tension in his shoulders finally seemed to ease, and he let out a long breath. It was as though a weight was slowly lifting, and for the first time in days, you saw a glimpse of the Felix you had known and loved.

“I’m scared,” he admitted softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m scared of being a burden. I’m scared that if I show you how much I’m struggling, you’ll leave. I’m scared you won’t love me if I’m not always the one who has everything together.”

The rawness of his confession hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you just sat there, your heart aching for him. You had always known Felix to be strong, but in this moment, you realized just how vulnerable he was beneath it all, and how much he had been carrying alone.

“You don’t have to be perfect for me, Felix,” you said, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “I love you, all of you—the good, the bad, and everything in between. You don’t have to be anything but yourself.”

Felix finally looked at you, his eyes wide, his expression almost disbelieving. The walls that had been built up around him seemed to crack ever so slightly, and you could see the relief in his eyes. He swallowed hard, then reached out, taking your hand in his.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his grip tightening around your fingers. “I’ve been pushing you away for no reason. I was just so scared.”

You shook your head gently, squeezing his hand. “It’s okay, Felix. You don’t have to be scared. We’ll get through this together.”

For a minute, you just stood there, the two of you having an unsaid understanding. There was still a lot to sort out, and the path ahead would be difficult, but you knew that if you were both ready to try, you could do it.

As Felix drew in closer, resting his forehead against yours, you felt the warmth of his presence return, as well as the relief that you hadn't lost him despite everything. Not yet.

And for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to believe that things could be better.

seungmin

The morning light filtered softly through the kitchen windows, casting a dull glow over the room. Seungmin walked in, a faint sigh escaping his lips as he poured himself a cup of coffee, his mind still half-occupied by the rehearsals and everything waiting for him outside the walls of this apartment. But as he sat down at the breakfast table, he was immediately hit with an unexpected shift in the air.

There was no cheerful greeting from you, no attempt to share a quiet moment together before the day began. Instead, you sat across from him, silently eating your breakfast, your gaze fixed on the plate in front of you. Usually, you’d be making something small, even if it was just a quick toast or coffee, a gesture that made mornings feel connected. But today, the stillness felt suffocating.

Seungmin frowned, the weight of the silence pressing down on him. He didn’t quite understand why you weren’t speaking, but he knew something wasn’t right. He set his cup down, meeting your eyes for the briefest of moments before his voice broke through the quiet.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, his tone a bit strained, not sure if he was even ready to hear the answer.

You did not respond immediately away, keeping your gaze fixed on your food and your jaw tight as if the words you wanted to say were locked between your teeth. But they didn't come, and your silence spoke louder than any argument. Seungmin waited, his patience dwindling as time passed.

Finally, you scoffed, making a little but harsh sound that seemed to cut through the air, and you stood up from the table, pushing your chair back with an audible scrape.

"I don’t know, Seungmin," you shot back, your voice tinged with frustration, barely holding back the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "Maybe I’m just tired of feeling like I don’t matter to you."

He blinked, taken aback by the intensity of your words. Before he could respond, you stormed off, the door to the bedroom slamming shut behind you with a force that rattled the still air. Seungmin sat there, the taste of the bitter coffee suddenly unfamiliar in his mouth, his mind spinning. He hadn’t expected this. Not after everything that had happened last night.

The rest of the day felt like a blur. He went through the motions work, meetings, rehearsals but your words lingered in his mind, a constant hum of unease. By the time he returned home that evening, the tension was unbearable. He hesitated by the front door, unsure of what to expect. Normally, he would have found you sitting on the couch, or you would have greeted him with a small smile, asking about his day. But tonight, there was only silence.

He walked into the apartment, his footsteps faltering slightly as he noticed you in the corner of the living room, avoiding his gaze completely. You sat curled up on the couch, eyes fixed on the television but not really seeing anything at all. He stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of you, and the hollow feeling in his chest deepened.

"Can we talk?" he asked carefully, his voice laced with concern. His eyes searched yours for any sign that you were ready to listen.

You didn't respond immediately, your body rigid and remote. His heart fell as he saw the look on your face, as if a part of you had closed off, trapped behind a door he couldn't open. "Please," he said, getting closer. "I don't know what's going on, but..." "I can't fix this unless you tell me."

You snapped your head up, your eyes burning with a mix of pain and frustration. Your voice was more emotional than usual. "You don't get it, do you, Seungmin?" You stood up abruptly, raising your voice with each word. "I have tried. I've been trying for days to get you to come see me and realize that something is wrong! But all you have done is brush me off, make me feel like I’m too much for you, like I’m just… clingy."

His eyes widened in realization, the words you had uttered earlier in the morning returning to him with a crushing force. He had no idea it had gotten this bad, nor did he realize how much his words had hurt you until now. And it stung when the weight of his own stupidity fell on him. You carried on, your voice cracking as you talked.

"You've been really distant, Seungmin. And when I try to talk to you or look for your attention, you just push me away. You make me feel as though I am a burden. And I can't keep pretending that I don't feel it.”

Seungmin opened his mouth, but no words came out. He stood there, completely stunned, his chest tightening with regret. He had been so wrapped up in his own stress and exhaustion, so focused on his own battles, that he hadn’t realized how far apart you had grown, how much pain you had been quietly carrying.

He swallowed hard, stepping closer, his voice small now, barely a whisper. "I never meant to make you feel that way. I… I didn’t realize how much my actions were hurting you."

But your anger had already started to bubble back up. You shook your head, arms crossed tightly against your chest. "How could you not realize, Seungmin? How could you not see how much I’m struggling with this? I needed you, but you’ve been so… so cold." You paused, your breath shallow. "I needed you to care. To see me."

The words stung like salt in an open wound, but Seungmin couldn’t deny the truth in them. His heart clenched, and without thinking, he moved toward you, pulling you into his arms before you could step away.

"I’m so sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I didn’t mean to make you feel invisible, or like you were too much. I’ve been so caught up in everything that I forgot to see you, to notice what I was doing to us." He held you tighter, his grip desperate now, like he was trying to hold onto something he feared was slipping away. "Please forgive me. I don’t want to lose you."

Your body trembled against him, but for the first time in what felt like ages, you didn’t pull away. You rested your forehead against his chest, letting out a shaky breath, your emotions swirling but slowly softening under his touch.

"I just need you to be present, Seungmin," you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt. "I need to know that you’re here with me. That I matter to you."

"I hear you," he whispered softly, gently touching your face and lifting your head to meet his gaze. His embrace was raw and vulnerable in a way you had not seen before. "I hear you, and I promise to do better." I will make you feel seen. I will make sure you understand how much you mean to me."

You nodded softly, your heart aching but glad for his genuine remarks. The path to healing would take time, but for the first time in a long time, you felt confident that he would accompany you on it.

I.N

The next day, Jeongin arrived at your apartment, his normal bright smile on his face as he walked through the door. It was as if yesterday had never happened. His aura was light and carefree, as if he hadn't just disrupted the peace you had previously enjoyed in your relationship.

You, on the other hand, were still reeling from his cold demeanor the night before. The hurt persisted, and you couldn't shake the weight of his words. Stop being so clingy. It wasn't the first time someone had made you feel small, but it hurt more than you expected, especially coming from him.

You didn't answer as usual, and you didn't greet him with the warmth he had grown to expect. Instead, you kept your distance by giving him short, clipped answers. You preoccupied yourself with little things in the apartment, refusing to make eye contact in the hopes that the stillness would bridge the gap between you. The tension in the room, however, was palpable.

Jeongin didn't seem to notice right away. He went about his usual business, jokingly discussing his day and laughing as if everything was alright. When he reached for your hand, you automatically pushed it away, indicating that something was wrong. His smile faltered, and the warmth in his eyes was gradually replaced by confusion.

"Hey," he said, voice soft, the smile still not fully gone but now laced with a hint of concern. "What's wrong?"

You looked up at him, saw the real confusion in his eyes, and almost let it go. Almost let go of your pain for his smile, for the Jeongin you adored. But the words you'd been keeping in all day sprang to the surface. "What was that yesterday?" You snapped, your voice filled with emotion. The anger, hurt, and confusion you'd been harboring all night had finally bubbled over. "You were an entirely different person. One minute you were fine the next you were pushing me away, telling me I was too clingy. What was that?"

Jeongin blinked, taken aback by your strong tone, his eyes wide as if he had not expected such an outburst. His posture tensed, and for a brief period, you could see the walls he had built to protect himself from whatever discomfort was brewing inside. But that didn't erase the fact that his actions had harmed you more than he knew.

"If you want to act like that, maybe we should just break up," you muttered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them, a mix of hurt and frustration in your voice. "I don't want to be with someone who suddenly treats me like I'm a burden just because they're worried about what others think.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Jeongin’s expression faltered, his brows furrowing as if the idea of you breaking up was the last thing he expected. His eyes softened slightly, and his voice became almost breathless as he spoke, not quite believing what you’d just said.

“Wait… what?” His voice wavered, the hurt in his eyes clear now. "No, no, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean to hurt you."

You crossed your arms, feeling the burn of frustration building again. You needed answers. “Then what was it, Jeongin? Why did you act like that? I thought we were fine, but now… now I don’t know where I stand with you.”

He exhaled shakily, his hands running through his hair as he paced for a moment, clearly struggling to find the right words. After a beat of silence, he stopped in front of you, meeting your eyes, this time with a vulnerability that was both unexpected and painfully familiar.

“I… I love you," he began, his voice steady but filled with an edge of fear. "I love you so much, but I was afraid… I was afraid that if we showed too much PDA, the members would tease me relentlessly. They’re always joking about stuff like that, and I didn’t want them to make fun of me, of us."

The explanation hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, stunned. Was this actually the reason? Was he so concerned about what his members thought that he distanced himself from you, his girlfriend, in front of them? You struggled to wrap your head around it.

"Are you embarrassed of me?" The question fell out of your mouth before you could think. The thought of it twisted something inside you, the possibility that he might consider you as something to hide rather than something to be proud of.

Jeongin’s face immediately morphed into one of panic, as if the very suggestion cut him deeper than anything you could have said. “No! God, no. I would never—” He stepped forward, his hands reaching for you, but you instinctively took a small step back. He stopped, his hands falling to his sides, the hurt in his eyes obvious now.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his confession hanging between you two. "I never meant for you to feel like that. I just… I just didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t want the members to think I was soft or that I couldn’t keep my cool. But I was wrong. I was so wrong. I’m sorry for pushing you away, for making you feel like I didn’t care about you."

His words were a mix of regret and sincerity, and as he spoke, you could feel the depth of his struggle, the dread of being judged and ridiculed that kept him from completely being himself with you. It wasn't that he didn't love you; it was just that he hadn't understood how to balance his feelings with the demands of his life.

You stood there, silent for a moment, contemplating what he had just said. Your heart was still raw, but you could see remorse in his eyes and feel it in the way he stood, as if he was waiting for you to decide what to do next.

Finally, you spoke, your voice quieter than before, but the hurt remained beneath the surface. "I don't care what others say, Jeongin. I care about us. I want to be able to express my love for you without having to worry about what others might say."

He nodded quickly, his stare focused, and took a slight step toward you. "I promise I won't do it again. I will never make you feel that you are too much, or that I am embarrassed by you. You are more than just someone I care about; you are someone I am proud of. And I will do better. I will."

You held onto his gaze, seeing the honesty in his eyes and sensing the truth in his words. It was not a simple fix. There was work to be done and trust to be rebuilt, but you could tell right away that he was eager to give it his all.

"I just need you to be honest with me," you muttered, feeling the tension between you begin to ease. "That's all I want."

Jeongin's expression softened as he made one final step forward, closing the gap between you. His hands met yours, and his contact was warm and grounded. "I'm here. I'm actually here. And I will make sure you never feel that way again."

//

(❌ proofread)

masterlist.

[txkby]

My experience with the Void State.

Before I discovered the Void State, I practiced meditation regularly in 2022 (literally the year of the Void State on Tumblr), the sensations I had when meditating were truly exquisite, that tranquility and peace are simply incomparable with people, material things, etc.

I swear that nothing has filled my soul like those sensations.

(This is very important, remember it)

I stopped meditating afterwards because I didn't have time and when I wanted to do it I fell asleep, like when you want to get to the Void, don't you think? LOL

I discovered the Void around the beginning of 2023, but I never gave it any importance, I've almost never liked the methods, because it became obsessed, and that's what I did, I became obsessed.

I became so obsessed with the Void that I was constantly looking for information everywhere, on Google, here on Tumblr, Twitter, YouTube, and in endless places.

And every day I spent time doing methods to get there, meditations, affirmations, etc. But I just couldn't get there, I couldn't.

I felt so bad guys, I felt tired, have you ever felt that tiredness that feels more like giving up? That's what I felt.

I felt dissatisfied with my life, and it's hard because you feel ungrateful to the universe, to people, to everything.

But I kept on trying every day to get to the Void, but again, I never got there, not that way.

So I went back to the beginning, I went back to the basics, what is the Void? How do you get there? And I realized that I forgot what the Void really was, I forgot everything because of my desperation and obsession to get there.

What I did to get to the Void was the following:

- I gave up, but not giving up by throwing in the towel, but by letting myself go.

- let it go, detach myself from it

- remember that the Void is a state, it is something attached to us that simply cannot be prevented

- I stopped trying to reach the Void with extreme methods, I stopped trying to get there with steps, with rules.

- I stopped forcing myself to reach the Void, because the Void is not effort, it is relaxation, it is letting go, it is surrendering

- I changed my focus, instead of wanting to reach the Void by manifesting my desires, I changed it to simply having a good time, to relax

- I started doing simple meditations, nothing like "meditation to reach the Void, meditation for this, meditation for that", no, just simple meditations.

- don't look for symptoms because that takes you away from relaxation, it takes you away from the key to reach the Void

- relax, that's the Void, never forget it

And I remembered that the sensations I had when meditating for 2022 were the same as the Void, which means that I had possibly reached the Void State at that time, but since I didn't know about the subject, I didn't make an effort to reach the Void, I just wanted to meditate for fun, and this is very important because when we concentrate and force ourselves to reach the Void, we don't get there, when we are desperate to reach the void we won't get there, when we are anxious to reach the Void we won't get there.

So, after doing all that, remembering all that, I reached the Void.

And it didn't take me more than 1 week after to understand everything I just said.

In the Void I felt what I felt when meditating, that exquisite tranquility, that peace, that happiness, and of course you have no emotions, thoughts and you don't feel your body at all.

I didn't manifest much, I only changed my name, time of birth, my personality, my mentality and voice, because that was why I wanted to get there, I felt bad about myself because during 2020 to 2022 I suffered from depression, my father passed away, the changes that occurred in those times affected me mentally, I had social anxiety, I suffered, it was horrible.

But by manifesting my change of mentality and personality my perspective on life changed, therefore now I am happy.

The thing about my time of birth was simply for fun LOL, and my name, my old name, mmm 🫤 , I never felt identified with it, I was not her.

Like all of you, I suffered for wanting to get to the Void, for looking for symptoms

And not letting myself in getting there, because of my focus, because of my low self-confidence, because of my obsession, because of my desperation.

Give up to enter the Void.

And well guys, that's my experience with the Void, this post is so long but necessary, byee.

(I hope the translation is correct LOL) 🫂😝

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 cabin confessions : percy jackson

▰▰ pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

y/n loves gushing about Percy to her siblings, Percy accidentally finds out about this and he's absolutely obsessed with it.

author: i'll never get tired of cabin ten reader x percy, probs will write more abt them because ugh i just love them, also mentions of marriage!!

She sits on her bed, a brush in her hand as she gently runs it through the little girl's hair, her touch tender and soothing, pouring care into each stroke through the knots.

Her siblings sit in a circle around her on the floor, listening to her and hanging onto her every word as she recalls the time she was just friends with Percy.

"How come you two started dating?" Lacy asks, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

They already know how the story goes, they have heard about it at least twice now, but every time they look as interested on it as if it was their first time hearing about it.

"We were friends for a long time. I always thought that's all we would ever be." She starts, settling down the brush. "Percy was just... you know, Percy. All charming and brave and, well— completely clueless about my crush on him."

One of them giggles. "You had a crush on him first? wasn't he the one that asked you out?"

"Yes, he was, but it took him long enough to do it." she replies, smiling fondly at the memory as she starts to braid her sister's hair. "We kissed first, can you believe it? and even after that, Percy was still a nervous wreck when he asked me out. It was like he had forgotten how to talk and kept stumbling over his words, I honestly thought he was choking at some point."

The group erupts into laughter.

"And did you say yes right away?" Another sister pipes up, leaning forward with anticipation.

"I don't think he would've survived if I didn’t." She grins, her fingers working on the braid. "He was so sweet, he took me out for a picnic by the lake and he was honestly... just so perfect. I couldn't say no to him."

One of her brothers smirks, leaning back. "I would've made him work harder for it."

"He's worth it. He's always worth it." a chorus of 'awws' fill the room just as she's finished with her Lily's braid. "Okay, who's next?"

Lily grins at her and goes to sit down with the rest of the siblings, happy with her new braid, and the next sister in line takes her place on the bed while y/n grabs the brush again.

She knows they're not done with their questions. "And how did you two kiss for the first time?"

Beaming at the question, she tells the whole story again and again, going through the details while keeping everyone's hair knotless and braided.

Percy has always been amused by y/n's relationship with her siblings. Besides Tyson, he doesn't have anyone else to share a cabin with, so he doesn’t really get too many bonding opportunities as she does. She always tells him about the endless afternoons of talking, the movie nights, the blanket forts, and he can't help but feel just the tiniest bit of envy as he listens.

Right now, Tyson isn't even around because he's too busy to come back to camp this summer. So even if Percy's trying hard to respect his girlfriend's quality time with her siblings this afternoon, he ends up missing her too much.

Which leads him here, finally giving up on spending time by himself, he heads towards cabin 10, hoping y/n will let him crash her sleepover because he just needs to see her.

However, just when he's about to knock on the wooden door, he notices it's slightly cracked open. Laughter spills out, and he can even pick up her laugh among the others.

He doesn’t mean to pry, really, but it's not his fault that just when he's about to announce himself, he hears one of her little sisters asking. "And do you think you'll marry him?"

Percy stops right on his track, something just tells him they're talking about him. His suspicions only get confirmed when y/n is the one replying to the question. "Well, we're still young. But I can't picture myself marrying anyone else, you know?"

Gasps and excited chatter fill the room. Some of them beg for her to be flower girls at the wedding, while she tries, and fails, to get them to quiet down.

Percy's frozen in his spot. His heart skips a beat or two at her words. He leans against the doorframe, unable to stop the smile creeping across his face.

"Do you think he wants to marry you, too?" another one asks when the room finally falls silent again.

He does. Percy wants to make his presence known just to answer the question himself.

y/n chuckles softly "Well that's something that you'd have to ask him. But I sure hope so."

"You should propose to him instead." one suggests, they all break into a fit of giggles.

"Maybe I should. Do you reckon he'd like that?" She asks playfully.

Another sibling chimes in "He'd probably faint right on the spot."

Percy can't help himself anymore. Before he can think it through, his knuckles softly knock on the door. Everyone immediately falls silent, turning to look at the doorway, where he's shyly standing.

y/n's smile grows bigger once she looks up and finds him there. "Percy!"

"hope i'm not interrupting anything." he steps in, trying to keep his cool even though his heart is racing.

The Aphrodite kids exchange mischievous looks, some covering their mouths to hide their giggles. Lacy's the one to pipe up. "We were just talking about you!"

"Oh, really?" Percy has to act as if he didn’t know that already, raising his eyebrows as he glances at y/n, her cheeks are already tinted a pretty shade of pink. "Good things, I hope?"

"Of course" she recovers quickly, making some space for him to sit beside her on the bed. "What are you doing here?"

Percy carefully steps around the circle of Aphrodite kids on the floor and plops down beside her. "Just missed you." He replies simply, already reaching for her hand.

Her siblings immediately protest. "Don't distract her! it's her turn to braid."

She laughs, setting the brush down and instead taking Percy's hand, her delicate fingers lacing with his. "Don't worry, I'll still braid everyone's hair. Percy's just here to join the fun."

He chuckles, playfully shrugging. "I've always wanted to learn how to braid, I guess"

Her siblings break into laughter, and y/n rolls her eyes affectionately. That's how Percy ends up being instructed by a bunch of Aphrodite children on how to make a perfect braid while he listens to their chatter, laughing as they share stories with him.

Every now and then, y/n sneaks a glance at him, her eyes soft with affection and he remembers what he overheard. He will never forget it. But everytime she looks at him, he knows she wasn't lying just by the love he's able to see in her eyes.

Later, when everyone is happy with their braids and every story they could think about has been told, they start to drift away to their different sides of the cabin and Percy finds his perfect opportunity to mention what he overheard. He can't keep it to himself any longer.

"For the record." He starts, tugging her closer to him. "I can't picture myself marrying anyone else either."

Her breath catches and her face turns crimson. She immediately hides her face against his chest. "You weren't supposed to hear that!"

Percy laughs, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a soft kiss against her temple. "Just let me take care of the proposal, yeah?"

She's utterly embarrased, but she finally laughs, swatting his chest lightly as she mumbles. "Deal"

They settle back into each other’s arms, the warmth of the moment lingering between them as they think about how lucky they are to have each other. Next time, when her siblings gather around her bed asking questions, she’ll have some news to share with them.

[sinofwriting]

Faking It - Max Verstappen

Words: 850 Summary: Max finds out his girlfriend faked an orgasm. Note(s): NSFW, Talks of Sex, Mention of Semi-Public Sex. Part of a kind series where drivers find out reader faked an orgasm.

Max pauses just before the entryway to the living room. “Have you ever y’know?” His brows furrow at the vague question from his girlfriend’s best friend.

“Have I ever what?”

“Faked it. Have you ever faked an orgasm?”

She scoffs, “Before Max, yes.”

His cheeks turn a bit pink at the conversation he was overhearing, but he also stands a bit taller.

He knew that their sex life was good, that she was getting orgasms, they had of course talked about it, but it was different hearing her talk to someone else about it with no idea he was there.

His brows furrowed in confusion when she speaks again, “well, I don’t really know if it counts as faking it.”

“What?”

“I mean, there’s been a few times when we’ve had sex where I didn’t orgasm.”

His mind starts screaming at him, because what? He always made sure she came, usually before he did.

“Not because it wasn’t good or because I didn’t want to. I just couldn’t.” He can practically see the shrug she gives. “The sex was still good though.”

“Y/N!” Her friend screeches and it breaks up a little through the phone.

The words replay in his head as he goes back to their bedroom, lying down on the bed. He tries to think of when she would have faked it but nothing comes to mind. He’s so wrapped up in his head he doesn’t hear her call his name or get onto the bed until she’s laying down on top of him, his arms instinctively wrapping themselves around her.

“What you thinking about?” She asks, pressing kisses to his jaw.

It normally relaxes the feeling of her lips pressed against his skin but not quite where he wants them, a lovely prelude to before she kisses him, but he can’t get past what he heard and he’s never been practically shy.

“When did you fake it? Having an orgasm with me?”

Her fingers pause where they had begun to lift his shirt to slide under. “Max, it’s not a big deal.”

His frown deepens and he’s pushing her upwards so they can look at each other. “Yes, it is. I always thought that I made you orgasm, usually first. And now I’ve found that isn’t true.”

She shakes her head. “You do! I promise you do.”

He doesn’t say anything and she sighs.

“It’s only happened twice.”

He doesn’t know if he’s relieved that it only happened twice or pissed that he failed twice. It should have never happened but twice was far too much.

“The first time was after the FIA gala last year.”

His eyebrows furrow, “But you talk about that night a lot.”

“It was a good night. I felt good, amazing. I loved everything we did, I just wasn’t able to orgasm. I didn’t feel unsatisfied or anything. Especially not with my wake-up call.”

He smirks at the reminder of the next morning. He had woken up just as the sun was rising and had ducked under the covers and ate her out until she was begging for him to stop. His jaw and tongue had ached for hours after, but it was worth it for the taste of her stayed just as long.

“The second time was in China. I just couldn’t stop thinking about what if someone walked in.”

“So, I didn’t fuck you good enough.”

She slaps his chest lightly, sending him a disbelieving look. “I was limping a little after. And you're lucky I was wearing those heels and everyone believed me when I said I twisted my ankle.”

“I’m sorry.” Max apologizes again, picking up her hand and kissing it. He still felt a little bad that their first foray into semi-public sex had been so rough. “Why didn’t you tell me though? That I didn’t make you come?”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal to me.” She tells him. “I love having sex with you, it always feels good regardless of me orgasming or not. And in those two instances I was just happy to be that close to you.”

He stares at her, looking deep into her eyes. He still feels like he’s failed but the way she’s looking at him, all gentle wide eyes filled with truth. “I’ll let it go.”

She snorts and he covers her mouth with his hand.

“But only if you tell me next time. Just so I can immediately make it up to you.” He says, removing his hand as he says the last word.

“Okay, I’ll tell you next time.”

“Thank you.” He murmurs, pressing their lips together.

She hums into the kiss, her one hand slipping out of his and returning to the hem of shirt, drawing it up so she can slip her hands underneath and his stomach flexes at the feeling of her fingertips and he’s rolling them over. Easily putting himself in between her legs.

“Feel like making a mess for me?”

She lets out a happy little sigh, teeth lightly sinking into her bottom lip as she nods. “Please?”

“Of course.”

[ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat]

after the party - spencer reid x fem!reader

reader can't let go of her wedding day so spencer needs to give a reminder of what weddings are really about

genre: flangst wc: 823 warnings: wedding, post-wedding-depression, talk of honeymoon and kids, reassuring, very brief mention of the wedding night, pessimist!reader

Your wedding was everything. It was perfect despite your worries. Beforehand, you thought up all that could possibly go wrong but it turned out that the moment you saw him waiting at the end of the flower-covered aisle, nothing could ruin it. There was cake, food, photos, smiles, and laughter. When it came to your first dance as, officially, Mr. and Mrs. Reid, Spencer revealed that he'd been taking dance lessons without your knowledge. He said he didn't want to mar your perfect wedding with his two left feet and poor coordination. You thought the idea was preposterous.

The planner he was, David Rossi offered to hold the event at his mansion. Who were you to pass that up? It ended up being everything you've ever dreamed of—fairy-lit backyard, family, and the man you love. Not to mention the party.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. While your wedding night was mind-blowing, you were upset to leave the day behind. Because you knew you'd revisit it forever.

And you already are.

Yes, you're now the wife of the most perfect man you've ever known but the best day of your life has also slipped away. Maybe that's dramatic and not at all what you should be focused on but you can't really help it, can you? Perhaps it's the petulant side of you. The side that yearns and holds on.

And maybe it's the metaphoric packing away of the memories that's contributing to this feeling. After all, you're quite literally picking up the night before and placing it in the garbage. Quite literally. Here you stand, in slippers and remnants of last night's makeup, picking bits of confetti and glitter off the ground. Leftover curls sit atop your head.

From behind you, familiar arms wrap around your waist. "You finished outside already?" you ask. Spencer shakes his head against your shoulder. "No, not yet. I just wanted to see you."

You smile, turning to face him, a hand coming up to hold his face. You remember yesterday, how he looked, smelled, admired you while—

"What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?" your brows furrow.

He hums thoughtfully. You wonder if you'll ever feel how you did last night again. "You seem... distant," Spencer acknowledges, eyes narrowed.

"Oh."

Kindly, his eyes search yours, looking for any explanation because all he really wants is for you to be happy. He mutters softly, head dipping closer to your level, "tell me what I can do."

What can he do? You mean, he's a profiler, he's not going to let this go. So, you should tell him, right?

"I'm just... upset that it's over, I guess. I'll never be a bride again," you admit gently, voice unsure.

Spencer nods with understanding. His hand runs up and down your arm. "You're right... you'll never be a bride again," a small smile appears on his lips, "but you'll always be my wife."

It's true and you know it. You'll be his forever and ever. He'll be yours. Though, there's still that feeling that your best has passed you by.

"I suppose that's true..."

A sigh leaves him before he inquires with a faint, cheeky smile, "is that really why we got married? To have a party?"

You frown, shaking your head adamantly. "No! Come on, you know what I mean."

"No, I don't," he quips with more confidence than you were expecting. "Because, yes, our wedding is over, but now we move on to the next part and then the next and then the next."

You playfully roll your eyes at the simplicity of his words. Since you, he's become better at looking at things more positively. Probably because you don't.

"Think about it," he whispers.

"Think about what?" you hum, now a small smile on your lips.

Spencer grins with you, bringing his hand to yours. "What comes next. Look forward to our honeymoon instead of thinking about what's passed."

"Okay, fine. I'm only agreeing because I'm excited to go to Paris, though," you giggle softly.

In an awful French accent, he responds almost dreamily, "ah, Paris."

Leaning down, he places an exaggerated kiss to your cheek before sighing, “then whatever comes after. House, kids.”

“Kids,” you murmur happily. You’ve spoken about this.

“Yes. Let’s focus on the next few things, okay?” he smiles sweetly.

You nod your head. Spencer’s ability to soothe every line between your brows never fails to baffle you. Somehow, he can simultaneously calm and excite you with everything he does. Perhaps it’s in his nature or maybe he just knows you all too well. You like to think it’s the second option.

When his lips come down on yours in a gesture of warmth, you breathe out through your nose, a smile creeping up onto your mouth. It’s quick, lasting only a few seconds.

“Better?” Spencer mutters.

Humming in affirmation, you nod. Your thumb brushes the scruff on his chin. “Better.”

tags: @angellic4l @sweetestthingonthissideofhell @floraisunwell @1mnshw @mggslover

[focusonkayjay]

Wildly Wealthy Koreans (final + epilogue); inspired by Crazy Rich Asians

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: photographer/ filmmaker! jungkook, rich girl/ fashion designer! reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, smut

Series summary: When you invite your boyfriend, Jungkook, to accompany you to your brother's wedding in your hometown, Daegu, he’s overjoyed, eager to meet your family and experience a side of your life you’ve never shared with him. However, once he uncovers the truth about who you really are, he’s unable to grasp the full extent of your reality. The situation becomes even more complicated when a certain someone makes him feel profoundly unwelcome, leaving him to question not only your world, but also his place in it.

Disclaimer: This series is heavily inspired by the movie Crazy Rich Asians, with the storyline closely following the original film's plot. However, I wanted to reimagine it as a fanfiction, where Jungkook and OC take center stage as the main protagonists. While I’ve kept the core elements and themes from the movie, I’ve added my own touches here and there, such as altering certain character dynamics and incorporating a few original settings. Some scenes are directly inspired by the movie, and I’ve worked to recreate them in a way that it hopefully resonates with the fans of the movie. Hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 9.7k+

Chapter Warnings: your mother, talks about culture, roots etc, cultural jabs (??), some dialogues taken straight from the movie.

A/N: AHHHH, I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS SERIES IS FINALLY OVERRRRRR 🥺 i still remember debating whether writing this series was a good idea or not, and i’m so incredibly glad i decided to go for it. seeing it through to the end has been such a rewarding journey. a quick reminder (as always) to those who haven’t watched the movie, PLEASE DOOOO. it’ll help you truly capture the essence of this series and catch all the little references sprinkled throughout the story. thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to every single one of you who stuck around and read through the entire story. your unwavering support means the absolute world to me, and i hope the ending left you feeling as fulfilled and happy as i feel right now. thank you again, endlessly, for being a part of this journey. love you guys <333

final

Jungkook's eyes roam around the serene interiors of the photography museum. The space is dimly lit, with soft spotlights highlighting the carefully curated photographs mounted on minimalist white walls.

The polished wooden floors gleam under the subdued lighting, their faint reflections adding warmth to the otherwise cool and modern design.

Large floor-to-ceiling windows on one side let in streaks of natural light that mix with the artificial glow, casting gentle shadows across the room.

A faint hum of classical music plays in the background, blending with the quiet murmurs of a few visitors who walk slowly, lost in thought as they admire the exhibits.

Each photograph is encased in sleek black frames, their details brought to life by the perfect interplay of light and shadow.

Jungkook’s gaze shifts towards the entrance. His eyes narrow slightly as he spots a familiar figure entering. Her presence commanding, with large, oversized sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose and a crisp sky blue suit that speaks of meticulous tailoring.

Her posture is poised but guarded, exuding both authority and apprehension. She glances around, as though searching for something... or someone.

When her eyes finally land on him, she stiffens slightly, her polished demeanor faltering for the briefest moment.

There’s a pause, a moment heavy with wordless tension, as their gazes lock. Then, as if deciding to confront the inevitable, she begins walking towards him. Her heels click rhythmically on the gleaming wooden floor, each step echoing faintly in the otherwise hushed space.

Jungkook exhales slowly, his fingers fidgeting in his pockets of his jecket, and forces a small, polite smile. “Thank you for meeting me here.” he says softly as he bows when she reaches him, his tone tinged with restraint.

Your mother lowers her gaze, the sharp lines of her expression softening slightly as she removes the oversized shades that had shielded her face. Her hands fold the glasses and tuck them into her blazer's pocket.

Her eyes flicker briefly to Jungkook before shifting to the museum’s visitors, who linger quietly in their own worlds. She crosses her arms, her movements calculated, and slowly begins walking further into the gallery, her gaze wandering over the photographs lining the walls.

Jungkook follows closely behind her, the faint echo of his boots blending into the quiet hum of the museum. His gaze flits from one photograph to the next and the air between them is heavy with the kind of silence that feels almost alive.

After a few moments, she halts abruptly in front of a large photograph, the sharp sound of her heels ceasing like the punctuation to an invisible sentence. Jungkook stops a few paces behind, watching as her eyes narrow, drawn to the image before her.

The picture is striking... a serene lakeside scene where the water glimmers under a golden sunset. At the heart of the image are a mother and her daughter, waist-deep in the water. The little girl throws her head back in carefree laughter, her hands splashing water toward the sky, droplets catching the light like tiny jewels.

The mother, her arms outstretched to steady the child, wears a wide, radiant smile... one that speaks of pure, unfiltered joy. The intimacy of the picture is palpable, the bond between them immortalized in the frame.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Jungkook’s voice cuts softly through the silence, his eyes also fixed on the photograph. His tone holds a quiet reverence, as though he understands the story behind the image without needing to be told.

Your mother remains silent for a long moment, her arms still crossed. Her sharp eyes scan the photograph, lingering on the mother’s expression, as if she’s trying to decipher something beyond the surface. Finally, she breathes out, her voice low. “It is.”

As they walk side by side through the museum, Jungkook’s eyes linger on the photographs, each one a silent universe frozen in a frame.

His gaze stops at a photograph of a weathered lighthouse against a stormy sky, its beam cutting through the chaos.

“You know...” he begins, his voice low but steady. “Photography has this way of teaching you about life." he says, crossing his arms.

"Every shot is a lesson of patience, perspective, and timing. Sometimes, you’re staring through the lens, thinking you’ve got the perfect frame, but then you realize… it’s not right. The light’s too harsh, the angle's too narrow. That’s when you step back, adjust, and try again.” He pauses, his hand brushing lightly against the edge of a nearby frame.

“Life is a lot like that. The things we don’t understand... the moments that hurt us or confuse us, they start to make sense when you’re willing to shift your perspective, even just a little.”

Your mother remains quiet, her gaze briefly shifting to him before returning to the photographs, her expression unreadable.

“You called me here..." she says eventually, her voice sharp and direct, breaking the delicate quiet. “I assume it’s not for a photography lesson.” She glances at him over her shoulder, her tone laced with a challenge.

Jungkook looks down, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “Well then…” His voice trails off as he walks past her taking a few steps ahead, his hands slipping back into his pockets. His eyes move over the walls, scanning each frame with a focus that seems both casual and intentional.

“I know the truth about my mother bothers you...” he says, his voice steady but quiet, his words carried by the subdued hum of the museum’s ambiance.

Your mother doesn’t respond immediately, but she follows him as her eyes settle on the photographs alongside his. Each image seems to hold its own gravity... a bustling street in monochrome, a child peering through a cracked window, a lone bird perched on a barren tree.

“But you didn’t like me the second I got here.” Jungkook continues, his steps slowing until he halts entirely. He turns to face her, his dark eyes meeting hers with an intensity that demands answers. “Why is that?” he asks, his tone calm but weighted, the kind of calm that conceals gallons of restrained hurt and confusion.

Your mother stops a few feet away as she looks at him for a long moment, her expression impenetrable. "You know..." she begins, her voice firm yet laced with an undercurrent of contemplation.

"As a photographer, I’m sure you've experienced those moments... when you’re behind the lens, capturing a scene so carefully, so purposefully, and yet, there’s just something... a detail, a shadow, or perhaps an element that doesn’t quite belong." She pauses, letting her words settle between them.

Jungkook furrows his brows, listening intently, trying to grasp the weight of her meaning, the cryptic nature of her expression.

"It disrupts the rhythm of the image... the frame." she continues, her voice almost detached now, as if the words have found their own path.

"No matter how perfectly you’ve set everything up, no matter how much you try to step back and adjust, it pulls your attention, ruins the flow, and shatters the harmony you so carefully crafted. It doesn’t blend in the way it should... it stands out, but not in a way that completes the image. It’s a blemish, an imperfection in an otherwise perfect picture."

She steps closer now, the silence between them dense, her gaze unwavering as she delivers her final words, her tone colder, yet still rich with intensity.

"You’re like that to me." she says, her eyes locking with his, the words biting with an unspoken finality. "You don’t belong in the frame."

Though the sting of her words cuts deep into Jungkook’s core, he forces a chuckle, his gaze dropping to the floor as if to shield the emotions threatening to surface. "Why?" he asks, his voice deceptively calm, as though he’s not unraveling inside.

"Because I’m not rich? Because I didn’t grow up with extravagant tea ceremonies or grandiose parties? Because I wasn’t born into a family with old money?" His head tilts slightly, eyes lifting to meet hers with a quiet defiance.

Your mother’s lips curl into a thin, airy grin, shaking her head slowly as if dismissing him before he’s even begun to understand. "You’re a foreigner." she says with finality. "American." she adds.

Jungkook’s expression falters, confusion clouding his features as he tries to digest the weight of her statement.

She gazes at him, eyes sharp, as if everything is already clear to her. "You were raised in a world where detachment is a virtue. Detached from your culture, your traditions, from the things that truly matter. All you care about is your own happiness." Her words hang heavy between them, like a wall that she’s built with her own hands, each syllable an obstacle too high to climb.

Jungkook’s brow furrows in bewilderment as he tries to reconcile the disconnect. "But... don’t you want Y/n to be happy?" he asks, his voice tinged with desperation, as if the question could bridge the vast divide she’s creating.

She laughs softly, a hollow sound, and begins walking again. "It's an illusion." she murmurs, almost as if speaking to herself. Jungkook follows, each step heavy with the weight of her words, yet unwilling to retreat.

"We understand..." she continues. "... how to build things that last. Things that matter. Things with roots, with purpose... not just fleeting, ephemeral happiness.... Something... you know nothing about." She glances back at him, her eyes sharp.

Jungkook’s jaw clenches, a storm of frustration rising within him. "You don’t know me." he says, his voice low but firm, a quiet challenge hanging in the air between them.

She stops in her tracks, eyes flickering to a large photograph on the wall. The image captures a fading sunset, its colors blurred and intertwined... beautiful but transient, as though it were about to disappear entirely. "I know you’re not what Y/n needs." she says quietly.

Jungkook stands there, a silent fury building in him, but her words cut deeper than he expected. He meets her gaze once more, eyes resolute. "Well, she asked me to elope with her yesterday." he says, his words sharp, almost defiant.

At this, your mother’s composed exterior falters, visibly cracking for the first time. Her eyes widen in shock, as though she had never expected such a revelation.

Jungkook watches her carefully, a quiet understanding crossing his mind that she had definitely not seen this coming. "She said she’d walk away from her family and you... for good." he presses on, his voice firm.

He watches her closely, observing how her shoulders tense, how her breathing catches, and how her eyes fall to the floor as she tries to process the weight of what he’s said.

A quiet chuckle escapes Jungkook’s lips, catching her attention. "Don’t worry..." he says, voice soft but tinged with something darker. "I turned her down."

At this, your mother exhales deeply, a sound of relief that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She takes a moment to regain her composure, trying to steady herself with a practiced sigh.

"Only fools fold a winning hand." she mutters, the words a hollow attempt to mask the vulnerability seeping through.

Jungkook shakes his head, a quiet frustration brewing within him. He glances at a photograph on the wall, a few feet away, its stillness contrasting sharply with the tension in the air.

"There’s no winning. You made sure of that." he replies with a nonchalant grin, though the words are heavy, laden with truth.

"Because if Y/n chose me, she would lose her family." he continues, taking a step closer to her. "And if she chose her family, she might spend the rest of her life resenting you."

She looks at him, her throat visibly tightening as the gravity of his words slowly settles in. It’s as if each syllable he speaks punctures the layers of her reality, sending ripples through her calm facade.

"So... you chose for her." she murmurs quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, almost like she’s testing the truth for herself.

Jungkook smiles softly, a tender yet sad curve of his lips. He purses them, his voice carrying the weight of something deeper. "I'm not leaving because I'm scared... or because I think I’m not enough." he says, his words slow, as though he’s carefully peeling back the layers of his own vulnerability.

Your mother tilts her head, and in the soft glow of the museum's lighting, her eyes shimmer slightly, betraying a crack in her usual strength.

"Because maybe for the first time in my life..." he pauses, his breath hitching ever so slightly. "I know I am." he continues, his voice a fragile admission of self worth.

Your mother looks at him, her expression hardened with forced composure, her gaze flickering between the raw honesty in his eyes and the vulnerability in his voice. She’s trying to hold herself together, trying to remain unshaken.

Jungkook’s voice falters, a soft sigh escaping him as he shrugs. "I just... love Y/n so much." he says, his tone thick with sincerity, tinged with sadness as his eyes glisten.

"I don’t want her to lose her family... her brother, her father, her grandmother. I don’t want her to lose you." he adds, his words dripping with the painful understanding of what it would cost you to choose him over them.

He shakes his head slightly, the words painful on his lips, each one a reminder of the battle between love and sacrifice.

"These past few weeks have shown me how much she cherishes everything she’s grown up with, and I would feel horrible if she walked away from all of that... for me." he says, his voice low but heavy with the weight of his own realization.

"I don’t want to snatch her away from her family..." he continues, his gaze locked with hers now, steady and unflinching. "I want to be accepted by her family instead." he says, his voice laced with an earnest desire to belong, not just to you, but to the life you've already built.

"So I just wanted you to know..." His voice trails off, thick with emotion, as he turns away, his gaze shifting towards the far end of the museum.

"That one day... when she marries another lucky guy... someone who’s enough... for you." he says softly, turning back to her, his eyes red-rimmed but steady.

"And you’re playing with your grandkids... when the orchids are blooming and the birds are chirping, that it was because... of me." A bittersweet smile curves on his lips, though there’s a sadness that lingers in his gaze, one that speaks of a future he knows he won’t be a part of.

"A poor, raised by a single mother, low-class, immigrant nobody." he adds quietly, the words cutting through the air with a finality that resonates deeper than anything spoken before.

Your mother stares at him, blinking rapidly as if trying to clear the fog that has settled over her mind. The weight of his words lands on her like an ice-cold splash of reality, each syllable reverberating through her, leaving her momentarily paralyzed.

She watches as Jungkook doesn’t give her the chance to respond. He turns on his heels, his back retreating from her, and walks away.

Her gaze follows him, eyes fixed on his retreating figure as he crosses the museum floor towards the exit, each movement seeming to echo the finality of their conversation.

//

Jungkook stands by the trunk of the car, his hands steady but his heart in disarray as he carefully places his luggage inside.

The conversation with your mother replays in his mind and despite the ache that seems to weigh down every fiber of his being, he knows he’s made the right decision... at least, that’s what he tells himself.

When you asked him to elope, Jungkook had nearly given in. The mere thought of a future with you was intoxicating, the idea of having you by his side every day, every night, a dream he had long held close.

For a brief moment, he was ready to throw everything else aside just to make it happen.

But the thought of you walking away from everything you’ve ever known... cut deeper than he could admit. It was unbearable.

He loves you too much, so much that the idea of snatching you away felt selfish, almost cruel. And so, despite the way it shattered him to his core, he had to turn you down, even as it tore him apart.

He remembers the way your face fell, the way tears streamed down your cheeks as you begged him to reconsider. The way your voice broke when you pleaded with him to choose you.

But deep down, he knew he couldn’t. Loving you meant protecting you, even from himself. It felt wrong... wrong to ask you to sacrifice so much, to leave behind the people and the life that shaped you.

Now, as he prepares to return to New York with his mother, the reality of his choice weighs on him. He feels the emptiness like a missing piece of himself, as if a part of his soul had been carved out and left behind with you.

But sometimes, he thinks, that missing piece is necessary. It’s a small sacrifice in the grand scheme of love, even if it feels like a gaping, unhealable wound. This pain... it’s the price of doing what’s right, even when every part of him wishes he hadn’t.

Jungkook hears the faint rolling of suitcase wheels as Yoongi emerges from the house, pushing his second piece of luggage with an exaggerated nonchalance.

Behind Yoongi, his family stands in a quiet semicircle, their expressions a blend of sadness and pride as they watch Jungkook prepare to leave.

"Good for youuu..." Yoongi drawls, his voice laced with his trademark sarcasm as he nudges the suitcase towards the car. A guard promptly steps forward to load it into the trunk, but Yoongi keeps his gaze fixed on Jungkook.

"Walking away from Y/n and her family's fat-ass property portfolio." he jokes, shaking his head dramatically. Despite the ache in his chest, Jungkook manages a soft laugh, his lips twitching upward for the first time in what feels like days.

"You’ve got no one, no net worth..." Yoongi continues, his voice quieter now, tinged with sincerity. He steps closer, his usual smirk softening into something more genuine. "But you’ve got integrity. And that’s why I respect you."

The words hit Jungkook harder than he expects, and he blinks rapidly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat. "Thank you for everything, hyung." he says, his voice low but steady as he steps forward, his arms extending towards Yoongi.

Without hesitation, Yoongi pulls him into a firm hug, patting his back once with a quiet kind of solidarity. "You’ll be fine, kid." Yoongi murmurs, his words almost inaudible but carrying a weight of belief that Jungkook hadn’t realized he needed to hear.

//

Your gaze is fixed on nothing in particular as you stand in your room's balcony, the evening sky painted in muted hues of twilight. The breeze brushes against your skin, teasing the hem of your nightgown, but you hardly notice. Your eyes, dry from crying, remain blank, and your cheeks still bear the streaks of tears long dried.

You feel hollow, like a shell of yourself, standing motionless as you think about how Jungkook's probably headed to the airport right now. The ache in your chest is so consuming that even the idea of moving feels insurmountable.

When you asked him to elope with you, you saw it... the flicker in his eyes that told you he was ready to say yes. In that moment, you felt hope surge through you, as if for the first time, the impossible was within reach.

But just as quickly, the hesitation crept in, dimming the light in his gaze. He told you he couldn’t do it, that he couldn’t take you away from your family, your roots, no matter how much he loved you.

He said he would feel wretched knowing you had severed ties with your mother, your brother, and everyone you held dear... all because of him.

And you understood.

Of course, you understood. That was the kind of person Jungkook was... selfless to a fault, someone who carried the weight of his decisions like stones in his heart. But understanding didn’t make it any easier.

You were desperate... desperate to keep him in your life, to promise him forever. After what your mother had done to him, after everything he endured, you were ready to walk away from her.

Was it a rash decision? Maybe. Impulsive? Certainly. But at the time, it felt like the only choice, the only way to salvage the pieces of your heart.

Until he said no.

Until he told you he couldn’t do it. That he was leaving. That he was going back to New York.

Suddenly, your sorrowful thoughts are interrupted by a soft knock on your bedroom door. The sound feels like an unwelcome intrusion, pulling you out of the haze of your grief. You sigh heavily, already guessing who it might be.

“Tae, I don’t want to eat.” you call out, your voice hoarse and quiet. Turning away from the balcony, you walk back into your dimly lit room, expecting the footsteps to retreat.

But the knock comes again, a little firmer this time.

You click your tongue, frustration bubbling beneath your despair. “Tae—” you start, but the words catch in your throat as the door creaks open slightly, revealing a figure you weren’t expecting.

It’s not Taehyung.

It’s the person responsible for the ache in your chest, the reason your world feels like it’s crumbling.

It’s your mother.

Your eyes widen as the door opens further, revealing her figure standing there, clutching a box in her hands. You barely register what it is but whatever she’s holding doesn’t matter, because she's literally the last person you want to see right now.

Before she can speak, you turn away, hoping she’ll take the hint and leave. You retreat to the balcony, arms crossed tightly over your chest as if to shield yourself from the storm brewing within.

Your gaze locks on the horizon, though, once again, it lands on nothing in particular... just the empty expanse that mirrors the void in your heart.

“Y/n-ah...” she calls softly, her voice careful, like she’s treading on glass. You don’t answer. Instead, you shift your weight, maintaining your focus on the skyline.

You sense her hesitating, but she doesn’t leave. A few seconds pass, and then you hear her footsteps approaching. She stops at the edge of the balcony, leaving a deliberate gap between you. It’s as if she’s giving you space while still insisting on being near.

“Y/n.” she says again, her tone gentle yet resolute as she steps just a bit closer. You don’t turn, biting down on your lower lip to hold back the urge to ask her to leave.

She exhales softly, the sigh heavy with something unspoken. From the corner of your eye, you see her glance at you... at your tense posture, your clenched jaw. She knows you won’t meet her gaze, but she stands firm, determined.

“I know you don’t want to talk to me...” she begins, her voice wavering slightly. “But just hear me out. Let me say my piece, and if you still want me to leave, I will.”

You stay silent, your resolve teetering. When she continues, her voice carries a vulnerability you’re unaccustomed to.

“When you left for New York to chase your dream… I was terrified.” she admits, her words unsteady. “My little girl was going so so far away from home... from me and the thought of you forgetting everything... your roots, your family, it scared me.”

She hugs the box she's holding a little tighter to her chest, her gaze shifting to the same skyline you’re fixated on. “I thought if you followed your happiness, you’d become… selfish. That you’d waste your potential, drift away from everything we worked so hard to build for you.”

Your jaw softens ever so slightly, though you remain silent.

“But your father and your brother... they consoled me every day.” she continues. “They told me about all the wonderful things you were doing, and I was grateful you were thriving, even though it hurt to be apart. And when you called off the engagement with Wooyoung…” She pauses, sighing deeply.

“I didn’t understand it then, but I see now that you just wanted something different... something that made you happy.”

Her lips curve into a small, bittersweet smile. “However, I thought once you came back after doing everything you dreamed of, we’d settle everything. I’d find you an eligible man, someone who was on your level. I wanted to make sure your life was perfect.”

At that, your posture stiffens.

“I wanted you to be the perfect daughter-in-law...” she adds, her voice cracking slightly. “Not like me… because, you know, I was never your grandmother’s first choice for your father.”

Your chest tightens at her words, the weight of her confession settling heavily in the room. Growing up, you’d heard fragments of the story... the disapproval your grandmother had shown, the rejection your mother had quietly endured.

Though she rarely spoke of it, the shadow of those memories lingered, unspoken but ever-present. You’d always wondered if it still haunted her, if the echoes of that rejection had ever truly faded.

“And then you came back home...” she says, her voice softening further. “But not alone. You brought Jungkook.”

Her eyes glisten as she looks down at the box in her arms. “He wasn’t what I expected. He grew up in the States, he was raised by a single mother… He didn’t fit the mold I’d envisioned for you. And it scared me. It felt like you were slipping away, choosing someone who couldn’t possibly measure up to what I thought you deserved.”

“Jungkook deserves me.” you interject sharply, finally turning to face her. Your voice is cold, your gaze piercing. “He deserves every bit of me.”

Your mother doesn’t flinch at your tone. Instead, she smiles faintly, almost wistfully, before continuing. “I see that now.” she says, her voice steady but laced with emotion.

“But at the time… I didn’t. Somewhere along the line, I started projecting all of my own insecurities onto him. My disapproval, my disdain... it wasn’t about him. It was about me.” Her voice cracks slightly, and she pauses to steady herself.

“I realize now that I was projecting the rejection I faced all those years ago. The way your grandmother looked at me, the way she thought I wasn’t good enough for your father… I passed that burden onto Jungkook.” she explains.

"I know it doesn't justify my actions..." she adds quickly, her voice trembling as she struggles to hold onto the last threads of composure. A bitter smile curls at her lips, but it falters almost immediately.

"But... I was worried about you, Y/n. And..." She hesitates, the words catching in her throat. "A part of me was dealing with my own ego... the part that never healed."

Her confession hangs in the air, heavy and raw, and you can feel your chest tighten as you process the vulnerability in her voice.

Slowly, you blink, your eyes fixed on her face. For the first time, you notice the fine lines around her eyes, the weariness etched into her features, and the way her usually composed expression is now a fragile mask threatening to crack.

"I know what Grandma did hurt you..." you begin softly, your voice carrying an edge of gentleness you didn’t know you could summon. "But, Mama..." You step closer, just enough for her to notice but not enough to touch.

Her eyes dart to yours, unsure but yearning for something... acceptance, forgiveness, or maybe just the chance to be heard.

"Dad loved you..." you continue, your voice steady now, though the emotion behind it swells with every word. "He loved you so much that he went against everything Grandma wanted. He fought for you. He chose you."

The faintest glimmer of a tear shines in her eye, and her lips part, as if to say something, but she stays silent.

"And just like Dad loves you..." you say, your voice softening, "I love Jungkook. I love him with everything I have."

Her breath catches audibly, and you can see the weight of your words settle deeply within her. The truth you’ve spoken reverberates through her, leaving her visibly shaken, even though she had always known it in her heart.

"But what you did to him... how you treated him..." Your voice falters, your throat tightening as you remember the pain, the humiliation he had to endure and a tear slips down your cheek. "It didn't only hurt him... It hurt me too, Mama. It hurt me more than I ever thought possible."

The sight of your tear breaks something in her. Her face crumbles, and she reaches out instinctively, her trembling hand brushing your cheek as she wipes it away.

Her touch is hesitant, as though she fears she no longer has the right. "I know, my sweetheart." she whispers, her voice quivering as her own tears begin to fall, mirroring yours. "I know..." she repeats. She exhales shakily, her tears now streaming freely. "And I’m so, so sorry. To you. To Jungkook. To both of you."

Her hand falls away as she takes a step back, clutching the box in her hands like it’s the only thing holding her together. She inhales deeply, her shoulders trembling under the weight of her confession.

"I met him earlier today." she says a few seconds later, her voice breaking as she glances at you with tear-streaked cheeks.

Your eyes widen in shock, but before you can process her words or form a response, she continues. "I spoke to him, and it was like seeing everything I had refused to see all this time." Her voice cracks, and she presses a hand over her mouth as if to hold back a sob.

"Speaking to him made me realize just how blind I’ve been. How cruel. How selfish." She sniffs, lowering her hand as her gaze drops to the floor.

"I was ruining something beautiful, something so pure. And I let my own pain, my own insecurities, take control. I was so afraid of losing you that I never stopped to see I was actually driving you away myself."

Her words, raw and trembling, cut through you like a knife.

"You and Jungkook..." she continues, looking back at you, her eyes brimming with remorse. "What you have is rare. It’s the kind of love people search for their entire lives. And I almost destroyed it because I couldn’t let go of my own scars."

Her voice cracks again, and this time, a sob escapes her lips while her shoulders shake as she cries openly in front of you, a sight you never thought you’d witness.

You stand there, tears streaming down your own face, as you watch your mother unravel under the crushing weight of her own guilt. It’s as if the full gravity of her actions is only now sinking in, as if she’s just beginning to grasp the depth of the pain she’s inflicted on her own daughter.

Several seconds pass and then her voice wavers, but there’s a quiet urgency as she interrupts your thoughts. "You should go to him."

Your breath catches, your teary eyes snapping up to meet hers. "Mama—"

"I won’t stop you anymore." she interjects, but there’s a newfound resolve in her tone, her trembling lips curving into the softest, most bittersweet smile, though tears continue to spill down her cheeks.

"I see it now... the depth of the pain I’ve caused you." she confesses, her voice quivering with regret. "I can’t keep standing in the way of my own daughter’s happiness. I can’t be the one to destroy something so real, so pure, and so beautiful."

Her words shake you to your core, and you feel something inside you shatter... walls you hadn’t realized you’d built around your heart crumble under the weight of her sincerity.

"Go to the airport, Y/n." she whispers, your name breaking on her lips. "Go to him, right now."

Her words are a lifeline, pulling you out of the despair you’d been drowning in for so long. Relief floods your chest, overwhelming and liberating, as tears continue to stream down your face.

You nod frantically, your breath hitching as emotions surge through you like a tidal wave.

You don’t bother to change out of your nightgown or worry about your disheveled appearance. You turn towards the door, ready to bolt out and make your way to the man who holds your heart.

But then, just as your fingers graze the doorknob, her voice calls out again. "Wait!"

You freeze mid-step, turning back to her with wide, glistening eyes. She strides towards you, holding the box she’d been clutching tightly to her chest all this time.

"Take this..." she says, her voice soft yet trembling as she extends it to you. Confused, you glance down at the box, then back at her. "What… what's this?"

Her gaze softens, her expression a poignant blend of pain and tenderness. "It’s something he needs to see..." she murmurs, her voice trembling yet resolute. "Just give it to him, sweetheart. He’ll understand."

You hesitate, your fingers hovering over the box as uncertainty flickers in your chest. But the quiet urgency in her voice, coupled with the way her hands linger on the box as though letting go is both a release and a plea, pushes you to act.

Nodding, you take the box from her, its weight pressing against your chest as if carrying not just its contents but her unspoken regrets and hopes.

Without wasting another moment, you turn and run... your feet carrying you down the hallway, your heart pounding as you descend the staircase in a blur. The house feels suffocating, every second urging you to escape its confines and race towards the love of your life.

The moment you spot the guard outside, you request him to call the driver and within minutes that feel like eternity, your car pulls up. The headlights slice through the darkness, illuminating your urgency as you slide into the back seat, clutching the box tightly.

The car hums to life, gliding down the long driveway that stretches like an endless thread leading out into the world beyond your home. The city looms ahead and you press your forehead against the cool glass of the window.

Your tears continue to fall, but this time they carry a different weight. They’re not born of despair but of something else entirely... a release, a hope, a fragile kind of determination.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you dare to believe that maybe, just maybe, this road will lead you home. To him. To a love worth everything.

//

The hum of activity in the airport lobby surrounds Jungkook, the soft murmur of voices blending with the gentle tapping of suitcase wheels on the polished floor.

The bright fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow across the vast, open space, while the large windows showcase the sprawling tarmac outside.

The quiet rush of people moving in all directions adds to the atmosphere... passengers checking in, families hugging goodbye, and the occasional call over the loudspeaker announcing boarding times.

It’s a place filled with anticipation, yet for Jungkook, the air feels heavy, weighed down by a deep ache that refuses to be soothed.

The large screens hanging from the ceiling flicker with departure times, the destinations glowing in bold text. His flight is soon, but the seconds seem to stretch endlessly as he watches the planes taxi down the runway in the distance.

Each passing minute only deepens the knot in his stomach, the looming uncertainty of what’s to come gnawing at him.

Sitting beside him, his mother watches him closely. Her gaze is gentle, understanding the turbulence within him even if she can’t fully share it.

She leans forward slightly, her voice soft and filled with concern, "Kook..." she calls, her words breaking the silence around them. "You're sure you want to leave?"

His heart aches at the question, the temptation to stay and resolve everything with you pulling at him, but he knows deep down, that this is something he must do.

He exhales deeply, glancing at his mother, forcing a small smile. "Yes, Ma." he says, the words coming out slower than he intends. "It’s the only right thing to do."

But even as the smile touches his lips, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. They’re distant, clouded by the pain of knowing he’s about to walk away from something that means more than just the world to him.

The silence settles back around him, a heavy weight pressing on his chest as his thoughts inevitably drift back to you. He can't help but wonder if he’s making the right choice, if walking away from the love he's known for so long is really the only answer.

But before he can sink deeper into the spiral of doubt, a sudden commotion at a distance pulls him from his thoughts. Loud footsteps echo through the terminal, and the sound of frantic running cuts through the usual hum of voices.

Without thinking, his head swivels to the source of the noise, his eyes narrowing as he instinctively watches the movement. What he doesn’t expect, however, is the sight of you... familiar, yet out of place, desperately scanning the crowd, your gaze flickering from face to face, frantic and lost.

His heart skips a beat. Confusion floods his senses as he watches you weave through the standing passengers, your steps quick. You’re clutching something tightly in your hands, a box, perhaps.

His feet move before he can stop them, standing up from his seat, his eyes not leaving you for even a second.

His mother, sensing the shift in his demeanor, stands up as well, her eyes following his gaze. “Kook, what happ—” she starts to ask, but her voice trails off when she sees you too. A small, knowing smile tugs at her lips, though Jungkook doesn’t notice it. He’s too lost in the storm of emotions as he watches you... his heart racing now.

You’re moving erratically, your gaze darting around as you stop by random chairs, still searching, still looking. The urgency in your movements is unmistakable, and Jungkook’s confusion only deepens.

But then, your eyes lock with his. The moment freezes in time.

“Kook!!” Your voice shatters the stillness of the moment, cutting through the noise of the airport like a beacon in the chaos, a lifeline thrown with every ounce of desperation and hope.

The urgency in your cry tugs at his heartstrings, and in that instant, Jungkook feels everything... the hurt, the longing, all rushing toward him, sweeping him into a wave of raw emotion. It’s in the tremble of your voice, the frantic search in your eyes, the way you seem to need him like air itself.

He instinctively steps forward, reaching out, but you’re already running, your feet light and swift, propelled by a determination that can only come from a heart that knows exactly what it wants.

When you stop just a few feet away, everything hits him... the disheveled state of you, the tears streaking down your face, the nightgown you haven’t changed out of, as if you’ve left everything behind, every comfort, just to be here.

His heart aches at the sight, his need to protect you overwhelming him. But before he can speak, you beat him to it.

"Kook, I'm flying back to New York with you." The words burst from you, each one carrying the weight of everything you’ve held inside, every thought, every feeling, every breath you’ve taken since he left. You’re breathless, your chest heaving with the strain of the words, and your eyes never leave his... desperate, yet filled with a certainty that makes his heart ache deeper than it already does.

Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat. This is the last thing he expected to hear. This is the last thing he ever imagined he would face at this moment, but the emotion behind your words... the sheer depth of it, strikes him like a tidal wave.

His eyes flicker to his mom, standing just behind him, her hand resting on his shoulder, as if silently telling him to breathe.

"I'll be in the washroom, okay?" His mom’s voice is soft, distant, but Jungkook barely registers it. His mind, his heart, is consumed by you. He doesn’t even notice when she slips away, leaving the two of you in this fragile, raw moment, suspended in time.

His heart races, torn between the pull to stay with you and the reality of the life he's supposed tp have without you. "Y/N... please..." he whispers, his voice thick with the weight of everything he’s trying to say and everything he can’t.

"Please, don’t make this harder than it already is." His voice cracks, betraying the vulnerability he’s trying to hide. The truth is, deep down, he knows he can’t keep you away anymore.

He knows you’ve made your choice, just as he’s made his.

But you shake your head slowly, tears glistening in your eyes, and the steady resolve in your voice pierces through the pain that’s been festering between you both.

"Kook, ever since we started dating, not a single day has passed where I haven’t imagined a future with you. Not a single day where I didn’t wonder what our lives could be like, what we could build together."

You take a step closer, and he can feel the gravity of your words pulling him in, the sincerity behind every syllable. "Since day one, you’ve been the only thing on my mind, Kook. Every single day, you’re the first thought when I wake up, the last one before I fall asleep." You let out a soft laugh, though it’s laced with a sob, and his heart breaks all over again.

"You’re all I’ve ever wanted, all I’ve ever dreamed of. You’re the one I’ve imagined growing old with, the one I’ve pictured beside me through every storm, every moment, every day. You’re the only one I see... now, tomorrow, and forever."

His breath hitches, and he feels as though the ground beneath him could collapse at any moment. You reach out, your hand trembling, and he steps forward instinctively, his hand brushing against yours in the most delicate touch.

"I want everything with you, Kook. I want the quiet mornings in our cozy little apartment, the smell of coffee filling the air, the sound of our laughter echoing through the walls. I want our own little family... maybe even a dog... a Doberman, just like you’ve always wanted." You smile, and the tenderness of it catches him off guard, but the tears that shimmer in your eyes tell him everything.

He smiles back, though he can’t hide the way his eyes glisten.

"I want the mundane moments, the everyday life, because those are the moments that make everything else worth it. And I want it all with you." You pause, your voice breaking, but your eyes never waver, never falter in their devotion.

"Because to me, Kook, you are my future. You are everything I’ve ever needed. And wherever you are in the world, that’s where I belong." You smile, caressing his cheek, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Jungkook feels like he’s home.

"And no matter who wants to get in the way, no matter who tries to break us apart, I’m not going to let that happen." You whisper, your voice low and fierce with the love that burns between you.

And as the words hit him, Jungkook feels every bit of his own resolve crumble. The only thing he’s certain of now is that you are his heart, his everything. And nothing, no one, could ever change that.

"Really?" he asks, his voice low, almost a whisper, yet filled with a fragile kind of hope. It’s as if he’s afraid the moment might shatter if he speaks too loudly. He takes a cautious step closer, his eyes searching yours for any trace of doubt.

But there isn’t any. None at all.

You nod, the certainty in your small gesture lighting a spark in his chest. His lips curve into an airy, disbelieving chuckle, the sound tinged with a kind of relief he hadn’t known he needed.

"Really." you affirm softly, a small laugh escaping you... a laugh so full of love and promise that it unravels him completely.

That’s all it takes.

Before he even realizes it, his hands are cradling your face, his palms warm against your skin, his touch reverent, as though you’re something fragile, something precious. And in truth, you are.

When his lips meet yours, it’s as though the world around him disappears... the hum of the airport fades, the distant announcements and the shuffle of hurried footsteps dissolve into nothing.

In this moment, there is only you.

He kisses you with everything he has, everything he’s held back, and everything he didn’t know he was capable of feeling. It’s not just a kiss... it’s an unspoken promise, a confession of the depths of his love, a bridge over the years of pain and longing.

Every part of him, every fiber of his being, is poured into this moment, because now, nothing else matters.

Because at this point, Jungkook knows... he wants everything with you, too. He’s always wanted it. A future where your laughter fills the air, where your shared dreams come to life.

A home that feels alive because you’re in it, your warmth lighting every corner. A family that grows in love and chaos, where his mornings start with you by his side and his nights end the same way.

It’s you... only you. The only constant in every vision he’s ever had of his future. The one person who makes him feel like he’s enough, like he’s whole.

As the kiss deepens, Jungkook’s hands slide to the nape of your neck, his fingers threading gently through your hair. It’s as though he’s anchoring himself in this moment, desperate to make it last forever, to ground himself in the reality that you’re here, with him, choosing him.

But then, you pull back, your hands pressing lightly against his chest, breaking the moment. “Wait…” you breathe out, your voice trembling slightly. The sudden shift leaves Jungkook momentarily dazed, confusion flickering in his eyes as his hands hover near you, reluctant to let you go entirely.

You bring up the box in your hand, holding it out to him. “Mama…” you start, swallowing hard as if the weight of the moment is catching up to you. “Mama told me to give this to you.” you say, your voice soft.

Jungkook’s brows knit together as he glances at the box, his confusion deepening. The mention of your mother makes his posture stiffen. “What is it?” he asks softly, his voice cautious as he hesitantly takes the box from you.

“I don’t know.” you admit, shaking your head. “But she said… it’s something you need to see.”

Jungkook lets out a shaky breath, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he stares at the box in his hands. A storm of emotions brews inside him... apprehension, curiosity, even a flicker of hope but mostly, there’s a gnawing sense of dread.

He doesn’t know what to expect, but his mind is already spiraling. Is this going to be another sign of disapproval? Another way to remind him he’ll never measure up, never truly belong?

He forces himself to stop, shaking off the intrusive thoughts as he carefully lifts the lid. His heart pounds in his chest, his breathing shallow as he peers inside. And then his breath hitches.

Inside the box is a photo frame. The wooden edges are simple but elegant, smooth beneath his fingertips as he picks it up. His eyes fall on the picture encased within, and his lips part in quiet disbelief.

It’s a photograph... a snapshot from the day of the tea ceremony, the first time Jungkook met your family.

In the picture, he stands slightly stiff beside you, surrounded by your family. At the center sits your grandmother, her expression serene yet proud, flanked by your parents on either side. Beside your mother stand Taehyung and Miyeon, their bright smiles radiating warmth.

On the opposite side, next to your father, it’s you and Jungkook. You’re beaming at the camera, your joy evident and infectious, while Jungkook offers a softer smile, his hand resting securely in yours.

Jungkook remembers that day vividly. How awkward he’d felt, how he’d hesitated when you asked him to join the family photo. He’d insisted it wasn’t his place, that he didn’t belong.

But you had convinced him, tugging him to your side with a reassuring smile that melted his defenses. Even then, he had been aware of your mother’s watchful gaze, uncertain if his presence in the frame would be seen as an intrusion.

His gaze lingers on the photo now, taking in every detail. But it’s not just the image that strikes him... it’s the frame. The way it borders the picture, enclosing the memory within its sturdy embrace.

The frame, with its polished wooden edges, doesn’t trap the image but preserves it, making it whole. In this small, simple structure, he sees the way this memory is safeguarded, cherished, and elevated.

And in that same breath, it strikes him... this is what belonging feels like. This frame doesn’t exclude him… it includes him. It holds him within its bounds, just as you do, just as your family does, and now, even your mother.

And it hits him all at once.

He belongs. He belongs inside the frame.

The realization washes over him like a tidal wave, a flood of warmth and emotion that he can’t contain. The photograph isn’t just a picture... it’s a symbol. A message from your mother.

It’s her unmistakable way of telling him that she no longer sees him as a blemish or an imperfection in an otherwise perfect picture... that he’s no longer an outsider.

This was her approval, her apology, her final affirmation that he belongs... to you, to your family, and to everything that makes you who you are.

His throat tightens, his chest swelling with an overwhelming mix of emotions... relief, gratitude, love. His eyes, brimming with unshed tears, flicker to yours. You’re watching him intently, your own emotions mirrored in your gaze.

“I belong…” he whispers, the words trembling on his lips, as though uttering them aloud might shatter the delicate truth he’s only just beginning to grasp. His gaze meets yours, and his soft, incredulous smile carries the weight of disbelief, hope, and a longing he can finally put to rest. “I… I belong.”

You nod, stepping closer until your hand gently covers his. “You always have, Kook. You’ve always belonged.” you whisper, your voice tender but certain, as though sealing a promise he hadn’t realized you’d made long ago.

In an instant, he shifts the frame and box into one hand, his other arm pulling you tightly into his chest. The embrace feels like a shield, a cocoon against the noise and chaos of the world around you.

You wrap your arms around him in return, holding on as though you might never let go. The distant hum of airport announcements fades, muffled and irrelevant, as the two of you become the center of each other’s universe.

“I love you, Kook.” you say softly, your voice barely audible against the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He nods, pressing his cheek against the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair.

“I love you too.” he whispers and when he pulls back, it’s just enough to look into your eyes. Without hesitation, he leans down, his lips capturing yours in another kiss.

But this kiss is different. It’s not just a declaration of love... it’s everything. It’s the apology he never got to fully say, the gratitude he feels for your unwavering faith in him, and the silent vow that he’s yours, now and forever.

When you finally part, your cheeks are damp, and so are his, but neither of you care. You smile up at him, teary-eyed but radiant, and he mirrors your expression, his face soft with wonder and relief, as though the final piece of the puzzle has clicked into place.

“God...” you laugh suddenly, breaking the moment with a sheepish grin. “I just realized…I’m still in my nightgown. I probably gave everyone a show running like a maniac through the airport.”

Jungkook blinks, suddenly becoming aware of your surroundings. “Shit, baby, you should’ve changed! Aren’t you cold?” His hands instinctively move away from you and within seconds, he’s shrugging off his coat.

“Kook, I’m fine.” you protest lightly, but he’s already draping the thick fabric over you with careful precision, his brows furrowed in concern. “Still...” he mutters, stepping back to adjust the coat around you. “You could’ve caught a cold. What were you thinking?”

You slip your arms into the sleeves and laugh. “I wasn’t thinking. I just had to get to you.”

From a short distance away, Jungkook’s mother watches the two of you in silence, her luggage resting by her side. Her lips curve into a faint smile as she observes her son, who had been so weighed down by sorrow just days ago, now standing tall and glowing in your presence.

Relief floods her heart, seeing him laugh, seeing him love, and most of all, seeing him be loved in return.

The sharp crackle of the intercom shatters the stillness, the announcement of your flight echoing through the terminal. “Wow...” he murmurs, exhaling deeply. The reality of it all is finally settling in. “This is it, huh?”

“We’re going back to New York together.” you remind him with a smile, and he nods, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Wait, though...” he says, his brows knitting together in sudden confusion. “Where’s your luggage?”

You grin, a mischievous twinkle lighting your eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll have it arranged.” you say. He laughs, shaking his head in affectionate disbelief because he had momentarily forgotten who is girlfriend really was. “Of course, you will.” he says.

As the two of you turn to walk towards the gate, your hand in his, you spot his mother by the seats. She holds her luggage now in one hand, her posture relaxed, her expression warm. You offer her a shy, almost apologetic smile, and she returns it with one of quiet approval.

Just before Jungkook can lift his bag, you pause, tilting your head towards him with a playful smirk. “Kook...” you begin. “You know my family has ties with the airline, right?”

“Yeah…?” He narrows his eyes, already sensing where this is going. “So…” you drawl, dragging out the moment. “I might have upgraded our seats to business class again.”

epilogue

7 months later;

"And you may now kiss the bri—"

The words barely leave the officiant's lips before the room erupts into cheers and applause as Jungkook steps forward with a wide, boyish grin, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you into a kiss that’s nothing short of passionate.

The world around you blurs as he leans you back ever so slightly, his lips molding perfectly to yours, and the crowd’s whoops and claps grow louder, egging him on.

You can’t help but giggle against his lips, your bouquet clutched tightly in one hand while your other arm winds its way around his shoulders.

“Woohoooo! My baby sister is finally married!” Taehyung’s voice booms above the commotion, his excitement cutting through the noise like a firecracker. His dramatic declaration sends a ripple of laughter through the room, the joyful energy bouncing off every corner of the hall.

Jungkook pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughs softly, clearly enjoying the infectious joy of the moment.

You smile radiantly at Jungkook before intertwining your fingers with his and walking down the aisle together. The flower petals fall gently from above, catching the golden light like tiny, delicate whispers of a blessing, creating a dreamy haze that feels almost surreal.

The crowd's cheers and laughter are like a harmonious melody, and you can’t help but laugh softly as you wave to your friends and cousins, who coo and awe over the two of you.

Playfully, you lift your hand, wiggling your fingers to show off your ring, earning exaggerated gasps and more cheers. Jungkook chuckles beside you, squeezing your hand affectionately as his eyes scan the sea of familiar faces.

His gaze lands first on his mother, seated near the aisle, her hands clasped tightly together as she watches her son with pride. She’s smiling... a smile so genuine and full of love that it makes his heart ache in the best way. He smiles back, his lips curving into something soft, something grateful, and then his attention shifts.

He spots Yoongi next, standing amidst the crowd, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a grin. Yoongi raises his hand, offering Jungkook a thumbs-up with a playful holler that has the people around him laughing. Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head slightly but appreciating the support from his closest friend.

Then, his eyes drift to the other side of the room, and they find your mother. She’s radiant, as always, with an elegance that commands attention without effort. But what truly catches him off guard is her expression.

When their eyes meet, it’s not the cold, scrutinizing gaze he once feared... it’s warm. Her smile is soft, genuine, and holds something he never thought he’d see... acceptance.

The world seems to slow for a moment as she dips her head slightly, a silent gesture of approval, a mother’s quiet way of saying... Take care of my daughter. Always keep her happy.

Jungkook feels his throat tighten, emotions bubbling to the surface as he nods subtly in return with his own silent promise... I will. Always.

<-part 7

—fin. ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

series masterlist

my masterlist <3

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[aninipanin1]

MY BUMBLEBEE

Notes: Nothing just pure fluff and a lil jealousy, This is Miss Manager Junior btw:> And I got this idea from MemeSuga01's book titler "Blue Lock Specials" Special 18 in Wattpad! Please check out their books and account. They make really good stories!

"Bachira-san-"

"Y/N!!!!"

You were tackled with a hug that almost knocked the wind out of you. There were times like these where you remembered that Bachira was like the rest of the players in the facility, absolutely tall and built.

"Um...hi, how may I help you..?"

"Nothing! I just wanted to hug you!! You don't visit our stratum much anymore hmp!!"

He pouted, arms still around your neck as he happily cheered and tattled whatever was in his mind away. Seeing the excited look in Bachira's eyes made you quite happy and a bit guilty if you were to interrupt with whatever he was saying, so you nodded your head at whatever he was saying, even if it does not make sense at times.

As he talked, arms still around you, you started to let your eyes wonder about his features. You never noticed it, but the yellow in his hair was really bright and matched his pretty eyes. You think deep down that everyone has really pretty eyes, but the ones in the Blue Lock's facility take the cake, the variety of colors are all comparable to literal gems.

Bachira's looked like one of an amber, one preserved after so many years because of its shine and beauty. But it's not just beautiful but resilient as well, surviving whatever weather, temperature or disaster may occur around it. And it's not that far from Bachira's own story.

As you thought deeper, you then noticed how the black part of his hair mixed well with his yellow hair and eyes. He looks like a honeybee! Or even a-

"Bumblebee..." You ditzily whispered, not knowing you said it outloud, and unfortunately for you, Bachira heard it too.

"Eh? What did you say, Y/n-chan?" He tilted his head, his arms loosening a bit around your neck. Your ears and cheeks immediately flushed in embarrassment thay you said something so embarrassing out loud without a thought.

'Stupid Y/n...'

"Aww cmon Y/n-chan! What was it?"

"I..I said...you looked like a honeybee...I mean...I think you look closer to a bumblebee because of your personality! And because bumblebees are so chubby and cute and-" you covered your mouth, catching yourself talking too much again. There were moments like these where you would forget that you were talking to someone and you needed to filter out your words, and would instead talk their ears off with your unfiltered thoughts.

But, instead of being mad like you thought, Bachira's cheeks turned really pink before he hugged you even tighter than before.

"Aww Y/n-chan!! You're so cuteeee!! I like that nickname so much! I like it!" He cheered, jumping around as his arms were still around you making you a bit dizzy, before blinking at his words.

"Really? You don't mind I called you bumblebee?"

"Nope! I like it! Say, say, do you have nicknames like that for the others?" He asked, his smile still wide and the same but his eyes held some sort of hidden agenda. And he desperately wished that you only had a nickname for him and no one else.

"Uh nope! It just came out of me...!"

With that answer, his eyes became even brighter. He felt really special that you called him that, especially since bumblebee sounded so cute in his ears, giving him tingles on his heart.

"Sooo can you start calling me Bumblebee instead of Bachira-san?" He said excitedly, and you, being so oblivious at his hidden agenda immediately nodded at the idea. After all, you liked cute things and cute nicknames to your friends made you so happy and satisfied.

"Okay! You're my bumblebee from now on, Bachira-san!"

"Yay! I'm your bumblebee!!"

What you did not expect however was the reaction that the supposed innocent and cute nickname you gave the yellow and brown-haired striker.

You currently joined the boys in eating their lunch. Every Sunday, all the boys would share a cafeteria to eat lunch together for the sanitization of the other's they use everyday and for better bonding moments too (althoug Ego hides the latter reason). Picking your food tray, you tried to find a good spot to sit and enjoy your food. As always most of the tables had a vacant seat (which most would leave open in hopes you'd choose their table and sit with them).

But, before you can find a seat, you found Bachira entering the cafeteria and him being him, immediately ran to you and greeted you. He looked to be happier than he usually is, and he was. Deep down, Bachira was quite happy and flustered at the nickname you gave him. Even if a few hours had passed and training had done and went, he still could not keep it off his mind.

He really liked the way your tongue said his name, but the tone, the sheepish mutter of the word "bumblebee," calling to him and him alone made him feel so jittery and excited in a different way that he ever felt before.

"Hi Y/n-chan!!"

"Hi Bachira-san! Are you going to eat yet?"

"Awww...why did you call me that?"

He pouted at you, a little disappointed that you did not call him the nickname you gave him. Mostly because he really did like it and wanted you to call him that always, but also because he knew that the rest of the boys were listening and wanted you to call him thay in front of them to indirectly tell them that he was really special to you.

Tilting your head, you were a little confused as to what he was talking about until you remembered the conversation you had with him earlier. Your eyes brightened at the memory and looked a bit apologetic for forgeting.

"Oh, I forgot...'m so sorry, Bachira-san- I mean, my bumblebee!"

Crickets and silence.

That was all that was heard in the cafeteria the moment you called Bachira the nickname. The conviction and softness in your voice when you called him along with the sweet meaning that the nickname held, with the addition of the 'my' in the beginning made it feel so personal and possessive.

It can even be a nickname one gives to their significant other. And that did not sit right with them.

"Eh..? Did I say something wrong?" You wondered as you sat beside Bachira in the large table most of your friends sat in, yes even people like Rin, Barou and Kunigami who didn't think they were 'friends.'

"No fair, why does he get a nickname, while I don't Y/n-chan?" Nagi said from the other side of your chair as he rested his head on your shoulder, looking up at you with his sleepy eyes that held some sort of hidden conviction and annoyance.

"Yeah, Nagi's right, Y/n-chan! I want a nickname too!" Hiori raised his hand.

"Me too! Me too!" Kurona pitched softly.

"When did you even start calling Bachira that, Y/n-chan?" Isagi asked, feeling the familiar green face of jealousy. The question made you smile softly, because you thought that the nickname was just for friends, finding it absolutely adorable.

"I was talking with Bachira-san earlier this morning, and I kinda uttered how he looked like a bumblebee because bumblebees are so cute, fuzzy and chubby and his personality feels like one! So we agreed his nickname from me will be bumblebee from now on. Isn't it cute?" The happy and satisfied look in your face lessened the annoyance they felt to the brunette striker who just ate happily beside you.

"Yeah, cute." Rin said, his tone hid a sassy and annoyed tone.

"Can I still get a nickname, Y/n-chan?" Nagi asked, his stubbornness shining through at such a trivial thing. But to him, it was less than trivial. He wanted a personalize nickname from you, one that felt special to him especially because it was coming from you.

"Eh really? Um okay...uh you can be Ice Bear from We Bare Bears! You remind me of him, Nagi-san!" You offered with a bright smile. Finding his snow white hair, tall build and lazy personality mirroring the cute bear character.

Nagi seemee satisfied enough with the nickname, finding it endearing, but most especially because it came from you.

"Yay...I'm your Ice Bear."

Everyone else frowned at that, even Bachira who wanted to be the only one who had a nickname. But, hey he was not selfish like thay so he just continued eating.

And with that, the rest of the guys on the table started to ask you for nicknames too. But instead of feeling overwhelmed, you felt so happy and excited in giving them the silliest and cutest nicknames your mind can think of. You feel like your inner kid (that you lack) was brought out by the moment, and well, you loved your friends so you were more than happy to give each of them a nickname!

"Um...Rin-san can be Keroppi...!"

The rest of the boys laughed at the comparison between Keroppi and Rin.

"Rin-chan is not cute at all like Keroppi!" Bachira laughed as the rest agreed, pissing Rin off.

"Hmm, I don't know why I called Rin-san Keroppi, but it just sounds right to me! My Keroppi!" At the final sentence, Rin's full cheeks from his food turned red in a snap, almost choking on his food due to being so flustered and shocked at the nickname.

"Um, and this is ashi which means leg!"

You were currently holding a newspaper that Loki tried reading and explained what some of the worrd meant, since he was curious. But to your suprise, all the foreign players crowded next to you to listen to the explanation. Sure, they were not really thay ready to learn another language altogether, but they were curious and spending time with you at the same time was not exactly a bad combo.

On the field sat Lorenzo, Ness, Charles, Loki and Kaiser around you as you pointed at the words that was foreign to all of them as you slowly explained each of the symbol and what it meant. They were listening, well until Rin entered the field to look for you. And well, you made a mistake in acknowledging him in the new nickname you gave to them infront of the foreign players.

"Oh um sorry, my Keroppi! I'll start doing the laundry later!" As if clockwork anytime you used that word, Rin turned a bright red before leaving the field to try and cool off and try to find a way to not get flustered like a damn fuse everytime you use that nickname.

But, the rest of the players noticed the rather cute nickname and well, they were less than pleased and more envious.

"Ehhh why does Rin-Rin have a cute nickname from you but I don't? Y/n-chaaannn please give me one too!!" Charles said as he clung to your arm.

"Eh..?"

"I agree with the kid, Y/n." Michael said with a smirk. You felt like a trapped mouse under the expecting gaze of the players. Loki noticed this and sighed before hitting Charles's head which made the midfielder let out an 'ow.'

"Don't harass her, you fools. If she wants, she'll give us one. Geez."

"Uh thank you, Loki-san. But it's really fine! I'll give you guys nicknames too!" You started to think for one as they all watched you, then you looked at Charles and fangs when a genius strike hit your head.

"Charles-san can be Meowth from Pokemon!"

"Yey! I'm fine with that! Thank you, Y/n-chan!"

He said as he hugged you even tighter which just made you smile, but when you turned to Kaiser, you remembered a memory about the time Isagi was ranting to you about Kaiser.

"Yeah, and he even has that annoying rat-hair! I hate him SO much, Y/n-chan!"

The word rat repeated in your head, and a character appeared in your head, but before you can filter your thoughts into words, you said what you thought out loud.

"Jaq-jaq from Cinderella."

And well, the entire field ended up in laughter. Loud and hard laughter. Even Ness could not help the chuckle that left his mouth, remembering the familiar mouse character.

And well, that pissed Kaiser a bit. Which made you panic a bit.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Kaiser-san! I just remember Isagi-san calling you a rat and well...it ran in my mind..."

"HAHAHHAA IT FITS! HOLY SHIT IT FITS!" Lorenzo laughed and hugged his stomach which made Kaiser even angrier.

"Shut up! You are more of a rat than I am!"

"I'm sorry! Pfftt-" Loki said as he continued laughing, meanwhile Charles had tears in his eyes from laughter. Was it just from the nickname? Or even from the way you said it with such seriousness and conviction that made them laugh?

"Ehhh 'm so sorry, Kaiser-san..." you said, animated tears running down your face because, well an angry Kaiser was a scary Kaiser.

"Its fine, dear...but if just some of you will shut up!" He said with pointed looks at Lorenzo and Charles.

In the end, you settled with Kaiser being Cinnamoroll in your eyes. Finding his aesthetic and his hair color similar to the color scheme of the cute character.

ADDITIONAL TIME!

BLUE LOCK TV COMMENT SECTION:

User01: Awww but Kaiser fits the first nickname better🥺

Reply:

-> user02: right?! My favourite part of today's episode AHAHHAHA

User03: I want more behind the scenes moment wth?! Cmon editors and directors! I wanna see more of these moments lmao

User04: I don't think the Blue Lockers themselves, the directors and even the editors can deny that theyre all whipped for Miss Manager

-> User06: I super agree! Like, anyone with eyes can see that Miss Manager built herself a reverse harem in that place

User05: Nagi as Ice Bear is actually a really good nickname for him, but the Keroppi with Rin took me out for a bit LMAO maybe his behind the scenes personality is a bit more different to be guaranteed that nickname?

LMAO THIS ONE TOOK ME OUT but like help me out here, I wanna use these nicknames in the futhre so please do comment what you think the nicknames for the other Blue Lock players can be because I legit ran out of brainjuice just to think about it. But also, in the future Additional times I wiuld be putting the Blue Lock TV commment section buuut as a twist, I would be using some of my followers' username (if thats fine with you guys huhu) as the usernames, it would be used as some sort of shoutout and all, but also as a small thank you for all of you!

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Jumping right back in to part 3!

Accurate depiction of me knowing what's about to happen to the readers dad. 👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻

And:

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off. “What? What is it?!” you yell. He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth. “Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?” You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

I won't get my hopes up. I will be just as devastated now as when I find out that he is gone for good. 😭

Also I love that you said her mother refused to "entertain anything else" because Dean's job description is literally "anything else" lol. And it really is a wonderful thing (not wonderful like good but you know what I mean) that Dean and the reader can further connect on. Her knowing what Dean really did for a living and him being brave enough to risk his life on the possibility of "a chance."

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

It's too late for that kind of talk sexy mountain man. You're stuck with her and she is not going to let you go that easy.

Am I trying to hide my emotions over Dean going into the wilderness alone to face a wendigo with humor? Yes, yes I am.

You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.

It's a whole vibe 🍞

Side note: I did have to look up what nesting was in the A/B/O universe, but that is so cute. 😭

After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket. Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open. 

Oh goodness, yes it was a bad idea and I am so happy that Dean showed up when he did, because my anxiety for this reader was THROUGH THE ROOF. I mean yes, go get your man, but gurl please it's snowing and you've got a broken ankle. At least catch a bear or something to pull you on a sleigh lol. 🤣

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him.  Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

See this is why I don't get my hopes up because OH MY SWEET GOODNESS I'M CRYING 😭 But at least Dean is there now to wipe away her tears. AND my tears will soon be dried with the fires of their passion so... LOL 😂

He finally drags you to him in a kiss.  It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

See I feel better already 🥰

“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”

This is such a wonderful comparison to what it's like being around him for the reader. It holds the warmth and the feeling of home whenever you read it. I love it.

And also you know how much I love the continuing idea of Dean thinking that he's not enough and that the reader would never like him. I know that I always point it out when I read something of yours, but it really always fits him and you write it so well my friend 💚

“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

I also love this bit, because Dean reduces himself to physical wealth here rather than seeing all the wonderful qualities of himself that we all love being something that he can give the reader. It really makes their connection all the more loving and real, because the reader isn't asking for Dean to give her things or to be rich, she's just asking FOR Dean. And I think it will be a beautiful and wonderful thing when he realizes that.

This chapter was so wonderful Alex! I loved every heart wrenching bit and I can't wait to read the next one my wonderful friend! ❤️

Against the Wind - Part 3

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Merry Christmas! I'm dropping this chapter a day early for you guys. Now, here's the full story, and what Dean is going to do about it��

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of blood, hint of spice.~

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 3: Nothing Left to Burn

“We should start heading back,” you say, looking up at the mid-afternoon sky. It was starting to dip toward the top of the trees in the distance. “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get back before nightfall.”

“Yep, it’s about that time.” Your dad groans as he starts to haul himself back to his feet, where you two had been taking a rest against a tree. “Jesus, I need a new pair of knees. Help your old man, would ya?”

You smirk as you help the middle-aged alpha to his feet. His joints pop and his back cracks as he stretches his arms high.

“Damn, Dad. You’re creakier than the trees,” you quip.

He tosses you a wry look. “Just you wait. In a few years, after wrangling a couple of pups, you’re gonna feel my pain.”

“A few years?” you laugh. “Did I miss the part where I actually met a decent guy, let alone one worth mating?”

“Oh, you’ll find him,” your dad nods, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. “Or he’ll find you, like your mother did with me.”

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

“You met her in college. It’s not like you guys defied fate,” you say.

“Yeah, but if she hadn’t walked into my psychology class by mistake, and stolen my latte at the campus café, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he teases. 

You huff and roll your eyes. Yes, your parents are a walking cliché. And by far, your dad’s the bigger sap.

“I’m telling you. Sometimes, the universe does us a solid,” he says, reinforcing his point with a literal pointed finger your way. You push it away from your face in exasperation.

“You might wanna watch where you’re going,” you say, “before you roll your ankle on another pebble.”

“You kidding me?” he exclaims. “That thing was the size of my fist! You’re lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Make you carry me all the way back to the car.”

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

You trail off when a sound reaches you and your father. The sound of leaves crunching in the underbrush, quick and light. Your father’s shoulders straighten with alertness, the alpha’s head cocking toward the sound.

“Maybe I spoke too soon about the bears,” you whisper. He shakes his head.

“Nah, too light. It’s probably an elk.” He tosses you a smile. “We’ll have one hell of a haul to bring home, plus a good story to tell your mom.”

Your mother, the vegan veterinarian?

“Yeah, because she loves elk meat.”

“Would you quit being a smartass for two minutes? You go a little west. I’ll see where it’s at,” he says.

He quietly wracks his rifle and steps away from the clearing, farther into the woods. You do what he says, veering west. You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off.

“What? What is it?!” you yell.

He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

He moves further into the denser trees until you can no longer make him out. With a frustrated huff, you sprint down the hill and try to follow his tracks with your gun at the ready. On the wind, in the distance, you still hear his voice.

Until it cuts off abruptly, along with the terrible cracking of bone.

You gasp and halt in your steps. What the fuck was that?

Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. Despite what you heard, you realize just how very alone you are in the clearing. Fear and adrenaline make your breath tremulous and shallow, but you can’t just give up. You search for a while longer, making yourself hoarse calling out to your father.

No matter what direction you take, you never find him.

“I ran back to town to get the rangers,” you say, brushing a couple of stray tears from your cheeks. You sniff, licking your lips and swallowing a hard lump of emotion in your throat.

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

“It was too late,” you sigh. “He disappeared. They explained it away, thought a grizzly bear got him, but I know it wasn’t a damn bear.” 

You shake your head as the tears come harder and faster, all over again. Dean’s jaw clenches in sympathy.

“No one believed me about what I heard, not even my mom,” you confess. Your mother had been too distraught to entertain “anything else.” No matter how strongly you’d felt about your suspicions, you understood that she just wanted to put your father’s death behind her after his funeral. Part of you had stopped believing yourself. 

A stronger part of you hadn’t been able to let it go, however. So you had to come back here and try to find any trace of your father. 

When you finally run out of words, you see the proverbial gears turning in Dean’s eyes. 

“What’re you thinking?” you hazard to ask. You can’t help but reach out and grab at his wrist. “Do you…do you believe me?”

Dean’s gaze softens a fraction. He lays his larger hand over yours.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I’m willing to bet on what took him too.”

He squeezes your hand before he lets you go and gets up from his seat. He soon returns with his father’s journal in hand. He reclaims his spot across from you, sitting close to your thigh on the end of the chaise. His gaze falls away from your face to the journal in hand, and he flips it open to a page he knows from memory. You suck in a subtle breath to steel yourself when he turns it toward you—to the very page that had given you nightmares the first night you read it. 

Wendigo. 

“Nasty son of a bitch,” he says. “It hibernates for decades at a time, but when it surfaces, it knows how to get through long winters like this. It takes a handful of people at a time, feeding on its victims slow.”

You feel sick at that, but still, his words elicit a sliver of hope.

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?”

You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

“But there’s a chance,” you insist, with tears in your eyes. Dean holds your gaze for a moment, and he nods. He squeezes your knee this time, then shuts the journal with one hand as he moves to stand.

You follow him on your crutches over to the kitchen. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a folded-up map. Tossing the journal on the kitchen counter, he opens up the map and lays it out flat next to the sink. It’s a map of the mountain, and the entire forest surrounding the mountain of Big Sky. Dean’s eyes flick up to yours.

“Where did it happen?”

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

“Try not to go outside again unless you absolutely friggin’ have to,” he warns. “And if you do, don’t go too far. Make sure you take a weapon, preferably a gun and a knife.”

“Dean, I know,” you reply. You get up and hover by the couch while he finishes lacing his snowshoes and hooks his backpack on. You’re unable to hide your concern.

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say. 

Dean tosses you a grin. It has the shade of how he was with you before the “journal” incident—self-assured, a hint teasing.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly my first solo mission,” he says, though his devil-may-care attitude soon subsides into something more serious. “If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

“When you’re healed up, you can make your way down the mountain and back to town with that map I left for you. Kitchen counter,” he says.

Your frown worsens. You step closer to him with the pretense of closing and locking the front door for him after he leaves.

“Dean,” you say, stopping him at the door. He turns to look at you over his shoulder. You hesitate, fidgeting slightly, but you gain your courage.

“If you don’t come back, I’m going to find you,” you warn him.

Dean frowns. He turns to you fully and tilts his head as if to say, come again?

“No, you’re not, Omega. You understand me?”

His terseness doesn’t scare you anymore. You glare up at him, quite literally standing your ground.

“You didn’t leave me out there when you didn’t even know me. You think I’d do that to you?” you counter.

At that, Dean has to pause, tilting his head slightly. He almost smiles at your stubbornness, and just like that, his annoyance dissipates. It softens him, making him reach for your arm in an assuring squeeze.

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so. It’s written across your face anyway. Dean’s mouth tugs at a smile.

“All right, I’m out,” he says. “Save me some of Yogi in there.”

You huff, but you shut the door behind him after he steps out onto the porch, down the steps, and beyond. You move to the living room window and watch him get farther and farther away from the cabin. 

Despite the crackling fireplace, you begin to feel cold inside. 

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom. With the “new meat,” you make a large batch of soup to last you throughout the week. You freeze a couple of servings for Dean.

For when he gets back. 

You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.

Then you organize all of the alpha’s books by author. You wash all the laundry you can find and fold everything neatly on his bed, and you put away the couple of sweaters you’ve borrowed from him into your own dresser. 

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor. In your anxiety, it’s a reflex you can’t help. Your initial instinct was to nest in his room, but you thought that was too invasive of his privacy, so the living room was your next best option. At least his scent is still somewhat imbued into his favorite chair, and around his records. (You do steal another shirt of his to sleep with though.)

On Day 8, your worry becomes a living thing. You pace the living room and the kitchen on your crutches, probably wearing down the wooden ends of them while you debate what to do. Despite what Dean told you to do if he didn’t get back, you know you’re not just going to leave him out there. But the reality is, you have a problem of mobility.

With a frustrated huff, you decide to try setting your problem foot down normally. Your ankle hurts, a sharp pain shooting up your calf and nearly sending you to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasp, both in shock and aggravation.

You know this isn’t just a sprain. At best it could be a fracture, since no bone is protruding under the skin. It still means you shouldn’t go after him either. 

But you’ll have to try. 

After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket.

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open. 

A yelp of surprise escapes you, though you soon realize that it’s Dean, looking worn down and ragged, but alive. 

“Home, sweet home,” he says wryly, but he looks relieved to see you too.

You help him sink down onto the chaise, where he stretches out with a groan. He tips his head back on the cushion. His jacket is torn in a few places. Blood has dried on his cheek, his neck, and near his hairline, and you worry about where else he might be hurt. 

You quickly go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of warm water and grab a hand towel. You bring it all back to Dean, where you set your supplies on the floor and sit down beside him on the cushion.

“Are you okay?” You try to calm down your racing heart (and the nauseous feeling in your stomach) as you help him work open his jacket, followed by his shirt. Discreetly, your eyes take in the expanse of his tanned skin and pebbling nipples exposed to the cool air, even with the fire roaring nearby.

“Yeah, just peachy,” he says. 

You smile a little. You take the towel, dampen it, and begin to clear the blood from his cheek, his neck, and the upper part of his torso—even his scuffed hands. Then you squeegee out the blood in the bowl and continue your task. Dean subtly watches you, his gaze a bit softer than usual.

He eventually looks you over with a frown as he takes in the way you’re dressed, and then the backpack by the door. 

“What, about to go for a little afternoon stroll?” His sarcasm turns to annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put until you can actually walk?”

Your mouth flattens into a line, but any anger you might’ve felt is waylaid by your relief. It brings tears to your eyes. 

“I thought something happened to you,” you say.

Dean hesitates. Your hand has stilled on his chest. He softens a little more, grasping your hand in his larger one. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “The job’s done.”

Your eyes widen. “You found the…thing? The wendigo?”

His mouth pulls at a cocky grin, tempered only by his tiredness, and the way he’s looking at you. “Sure did. Tried to take a chunk outta my ass, but a little aerosol deodorant and a lighter’s all you need to barbecue that ugly son of a bitch.”

You smile in amusement, but all too soon, it fades.

“Did you find my dad?” you ask.

Dean’s expression sobers as well.

“Yeah, I think so.” His face gentles. “Was he wearing a blue puffer jacket?”

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him. 

Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

He holds you close, warm and secure. He allows you to stay there as long as you need, where you feel safe, even if this world has become a colder, darker place. 

After a few minutes longer, your intense sobs begin to subside. You don’t mean to, but you turn your nose into Dean’s neck, scenting him on reflex. It calms you down, but it has the unintended effect of arousing him. The alpha rumbles in pleasure. 

You blink in surprise and lean back enough to see his face. Dean’s lips press together as he looks down on you; he seems embarrassed, but you also see the heat reflected in his gaze, so intense in those forest greens. Your face begins to warm in a blush.

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please…

He finally drags you to him in a kiss. 

It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

You press a hand to the center of his chest, giving you leverage to rise up and slide your thigh over his legs. There you sink into his lap. Your breasts pillow against his chest when you lay on top of him, your elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. His hands move down your body, feeling down your sides, squeezing your hips, and then your ass. You hum into his mouth and roll your hips into his. Already you feel him hardening through his jeans.  

But somehow he breaks away from your kiss, even though your hands are still in his hair. 

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty.

He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process. He grabs your arm before you tip over, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from you after you’re forced to slide off his lap, sitting on the end of the chaise instead. Your eyes glisten with hurt and confusion. 

“Why?” is all you can ask.

He doesn’t want to answer. 

“Dean?” you ask, inching towards him. He raises a hand to keep you at bay.

“Just…it’s not a good idea, okay?” he says, with the clenching of his jaw.

That cuts into you even more. Your heart pulses with pain.

“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”

You wipe a stray tear from your eye, but you respect the distance he’s put between you two.

“The second I met you, I knew what this was,” you say. “I think you know it too.”

Dean shakes his head. His face betrays his wariness, his desire, and his obstinance. 

“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

You shake your head in dismay. “I know that’s not true.”

“I’m not bullshitting,” he says. “Listen…I’ve never had much. And what I did have, I found a way to lose. I’ve let my people down. Just about everyone I’ve ever…”

You can’t help but reach out a hand for him, your heart hurting, but he leans away, pressing himself back against the seat. It cuts even deeper into you; now though, you wonder if it’s because he feels the same gut feeling you do when he’s this close—close enough to touch, but almost afraid of the burn.

“They’ve been hurt, almost always because of me.” His voice shakes imperceptibly, with a wry, humorless turn of his lips. “So take it from me, sweetheart. You’ll wanna steer clear.”  

“Dean,” you say. You expel a breath, digesting his words, while thinking of what you want to say.

“I’ve never not felt safe with you,” you confess. “Even when I screwed up and drove you crazy, I’m sure, I knew you’d never hurt me. The same way I know…”

You reach out a tentative hand to lay in the center of his chest, over his heart. Your thumb brushes the edge of his strange tattoo, over the dark ink in his skin. 

“You’re my mate. My one, true mate in this world,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And I want to know you.”

You see inner conflict in the depths of Dean’s eyes, dark green and troubled. You take a chance and lean in, brushing your cheek against his, nuzzling, laying a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Omega,” he warns, but the grit in his voice has little heat.

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him. Your gentle affection is making him ache, deep in the shadowy cavern of his chest. He’d never admit it, but loneliness had set in there, burrowed deep with a stronghold on his heart. Without knowing, you’ve been carving it out with those gentle hands. 

You now slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, warm palms on his skin. 

“Alpha, I want to know you,” you insist. Quiet, but steady, your voice is a mere brush of words near his ear, against his cheek. “Please.” 

Dean’s brows furrow as he briefly shuts his eyes tight. With your whispered plea, the brittle chain of his restraint finally snaps free. 

He cradles the back of your head and guides you back into a feverish kiss.

AN: Sorry to cut it off there lol, but the big (steamy) finale is coming up next week! Perhaps a little earlier than Friday. 😘

Next Time:

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return.

▶️ Keep reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

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[catsukkii]

"can you spot me?" | kirishima x reader

summary: kirishima has a little crush on the pretty girl from the gym, who just so happens to be you.

gymbro!kirishima, who decides to switch up from his usual gym for once and explore his other options, and the minute his eyes land on you jogging on the treadmill, hes never been more fucking happy he explored.

gymbro!kirishima, who now decides this will certainly be his regular gym just in hopes of seeing you. now, eijirou was never one to ogle at girls at the gym, sure, he could recognize some of them were attractive, but it was never manly to drool over random women! which is why he beats himself up so bad when he catches himself staring at you doing squats for a little longer then normal.

gymbro!kirishima, who stands at the pull up’s after a hardcore session, sweating and breathing heavily. who also, just about jumps out of his skin when he looks to the left and you’re there staring at him with big eyes.

gymbro!kirishima, who stammers and stutters nervously when you ask him to spot your squats, “huh? oh- what? yes- I mean- yes! of course!” you simply smile as a faint giggle escapes past your lips at his nervousness. he mentally facepalms himself but continues to laugh it off with you nonetheless.

gymbro!kirishima, who physically can’t help the way his eyes drift down, partially forgetting what he even came here to do, and that was to spot you. which he was doing quite poorly at.

gymbro!kirishima, who feels horrible when you set the weight down and look at him with an awkward grin, ur brows had furrowed lightly as he mentally beat himself up.

“hey uhm, thanks for your help but I think that’s enough for today-“ you go to wrap up the conversation to avoid an awkward conflict, plus the fact you’ll probably see each other often if you go to the same gym, you didn't want to have any problems in the future.

“w-wait!” he stammers over his words and lowers his head down as if he were an ashamed puppy. “I’m sorry, I swear I can do better! I was just..distracted.” you nod along at his words, it’s nerve wracking to meet new people, especially at the gym, so you understood why he would be distracted after all.

“here!- look,” he reaches for his back pocket and pulls out his phone with a silly shark case covering the electronic. “will you put your number in my phone? so we can try again some day? I swear I’ll be better.” he breathily laughs as if to ease the tension, and you decide, why not, what’s the harm in a new gym buddy right?

gymbro!kirishima, who does his best to cover up how ecstatic he is he just bagged the ‘pretty girl at the gym's’ number, immediately texting the groupchat with all of his various friends as they cheer him on and congratulate him on ‘not being a pussy anymore.’

gymbro!kirishima, who texts you that night with a smile on his face, simply writing out,

‘hey, you goin to the gym tmrw? we can totally train together and I can be a better spotter!!🦈💪’

gymbro!kirishima, who kicks his feet and giggles like a school girl once you text back,

‘I’d love to! don’t disappoint me this time kay😊?”

[willowsnook]

back to you

hi! can I request angst with a happy ending for Oscar please? Maybe exes to lovers?

Oscar piastri x ex!reader

—--------------------------------------

Three years ago

“So this is really it?” You asked Oscar, your confusion morphing into shock. “But I thought we were so good together?”

Oscar sighed, his arms crossed as he stood in your dorm. “We are good together, but I’m going to be traveling more in F2 and as a reserve driver, so it doesn’t really make sense to continue this.”

“Doesn’t make sense?” Your anger was rising now, threatening to boil over. “We’ve been together for two years, jackass. Does that mean nothing to you? Do you even care about me?”

“Of course, I care about yo,u y/n,” he said, his eyes softening. “But this is my career; I need to put it first.”

“Get the fuck out,” you snapped, and he flinched in surprise, a flash of hurt in his eyes. “Lose my number. I hope you make it to F1 and get everything you ever dreamed of, but I hope you have it all alone.”

That was the last thing you ever said to him, and you didn’t regret it one bit. You met him your first year in college in London and were a perfect match. His dry-humored personality complemented your sassy attitude, and you both had a lot of fun together. If you were being honest with yourself, it was never super serious between you and Oscar. It was nice and fun, maybe a little toxic, but the way he ended it with such nonchalance is why it still irritated you even three years later.

—-----present day—----------

You had hoped that when you accepted the job with McLaren, you and Oscar’s paths wouldn’t cross. After graduating with a marketing degree, you took a position with their partnerships team, meaning your primary responsibilities would be representing McLaren to their sponsors and helping coordinate events. Generally, the events did not involve the drivers, but with it being three weeks in between races, they were expected to attend a small, exclusive happy hour in London. And, of course, you were the lead for the event.

You were wearing a nice pair of brown plaid trousers paired with a sleeveless, high-neck black turtle neck and hair pulled up in a tight bun. You’d done this a million times before, so you weren’t necessarily nervous, but the thought of interacting with Oscar again made you physically ill.

The boys arrived at the venue together, both dressed in their own versions of business professional, and headed to where you were standing with your boss. 

“Hi guys,” she said. “I have to go, but y/n is in charge, so she’ll give you the run-down.” 

The boys nodded as she left before turning to you. Oscar’s mouth opened slightly as he looked at you in surprise. 

“Hey, y/n, I’m Lando,” Lando greeted you with a bright smile. “And this is Oscar.” 

You returned his smile widely. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

Oscar snorted at your response, and your eyes flashed. Lando looked over at him in confusion. 

“Are you really going to act like you don’t know who I am?”

Lando, misreading his comment for being a stuck-up celebrity quip, started apologizing for his teammate’s behavior. 

“I’m sorry, have we met?” You asked, feigning being puzzled and effectively getting under Oscar’s skin. 

“Don’t act like I haven’t had my hands on every inch of your body,” Oscar snapped, eyes narrowed, and Lando’s eyes widened in shock. Your eyes narrowed, and you squared your shoulders at him. 

“If I could burn off my top layer of skin to be pure from you, I would,” you said coldly. “How’s life anyway? Lonely at the top?”

He flinched at your words, and you knew you hit a nerve. In an interview from last year, you'd read that he was struggling with being lonely after joining F1, so you knew that would remind him of your parting words. 

Oscar’s jaw tightened, and his eyes flickered with something that looked like hurt before he masked it with indifference. “Life’s great, thanks for asking. It’s everything I worked for.”

“Everything you worked for?” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Yeah, I bet it’s super fulfilling to win races and go back to an empty hotel room. Sounds amazing.”

Oscar’s lips parted, clearly taken aback by your jab, but he recovered quickly. “At least I have something to show for my sacrifices. What about you? Working events for McLaren? Sounds like a step down for someone convinced they would end up in New York, working for a top agency.”

It was your turn to flinch; that had been your dream ever since you were a kid, and you were still reeling from the failure of it not happening. But you had one last card to play against him, one you didn’t even want to. 

Lando, who had been awkwardly watching the exchange like a spectator at a tennis match, raised his hands in a desperate attempt to intervene. “Okay, guys, maybe we save this for another time? Or never? Never works too.”

“It is a step-down,” you said icily. “But a lot of dreams died after my dad did.”

It was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over Oscar, the way he stiffened at your words. You knew it was shitty, throwing your dad’s death in his face, but he pushed you too far, and the wound was still fresh. 

“Y/n.. I-I didn’t…,” he stuttered, but you raised a hand to cut him off.

“The happy hour is starting now,” you said, trying to regain your composure. “There are only five different companies, so it shouldn’t be too overwhelming. Be nice, be optimistic about the rest of the season, and ask questions about them as well. Find me if you need me.”

With that, you turned on your heel and marched into the venue. Lando and Oscar stood in silence, watching you disappear. Lando was still shocked at how Oscar acted, having never seen his teammate lose his temper like that. 

“So you two dated or something?” He asked cautiously and Oscar shot him an annoyed look. 

“Unfortunately,” he replied shortly. 

“I’ve never seen you so worked up from someone,” Lando commented. 

“She still knows just how to get under my skin,” Oscar muttered before walking in. 

You did what you did best during the event, schmoozing your heart out. It was fun for you, and by the end of the even,t you had forgotten the interaction with Oscar at the beginning. After cleanup, you went into the bar's main area, sitting down to order a martini. 

“Mind if I join you?” A voice asked, and you turned to see Lando standing next to the chair by you. 

“Sure,” you replied. “Have fun tonight?”

“These aren’t my favorite kind of things if I’m being honest,” he admitted, and you nodded. “Our sponsors always treat me like I’m some kind of god when I’m really just, well, me.” 

“I could see that,” you said. “Thanks for doing a good job, though; you make my job easy.” 

“You make it easy for us,” he replied, and you blushed at the compliment. 

He fiddled with his drink as you both sat silently for a bit, and you sighed, knowing what he wanted to ask. 

“Out with it, Norris. I know you want to ask about it earlier,” you said teasingly. 

He blushed before meeting your eyes. “I’ve just never seen him like that. He’s always so well put together and almost polished.” 

“We bring out the worst in each other,” you said, bringing your glass to your lips. 

“But you used to bring out the best?” He offered. 

“Something like that,” you muttered. 

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Lando said, and you felt a wave of sadness wash over you.

“Thank you,” you said softly. “I shouldn’t have said it like that to him; I’m not usually that mean.”

“You were both emotional seeing each other,” Lando said warmly. “I won’t hold it against you.”

“I appreciate that,” you said. “It’s a lot of old feelings resurfacing.”

You gave him a forced smile, and he studied you until you finished your drink. 

“Well, it was good to meet you,” you told him, standing up and slinging on your coat. 

“You too,” he said. “I hope to see more of you.” 

—---------------------------------

A couple of months later, you were cursing Lando for saying that. You had been promoted, and with the new job came new responsibilities, such as managing the sponsors at races. Stepping into the paddock early that Sunday morning, you were greeted by Land,o who had arrived at the same time. 

“Y/n!” He said cheerfully. “Congrats on the promotion.”

“Thanks, Lando,” you sai,d smiling, falling into step with him as you both headed towards the garage. Oscar was already there, talking to another driver you recognized as Franco Colapinto. 

“Hey Franco,” Lando called out. “Have you met y/n?”

Franco turned at the sound of Lando’s voice, flashing a charming smile as his gaze landed on you. “I haven’t had the pleasure,” he said smoothly, extending a hand. “Franco Colapinto.”

You shook his hand, offering a polite smile. “Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Franco said, holding your hand a beat longer than necessary. “I don’t know how I missed meeting someone like you before now. McLaren’s lucky to have you.”

Oscar’s jaw visibly tightened from his spot nearby, and he took a step closer, crossing his arms as he observed the scene.

You tilted your head slightly, playing along with Franco’s flirtatious tone just enough to annoy Oscar. “I’m just doing my job, but thanks.”

“Doing it exceptionally well, I’m sure,” Franco replied with a grin. “If you ever get bored working with these guys, let me know. I’m sure my team could use someone with your... expertise.”

Lando let out a low whistle, clearly amused by the unfolding drama. “Careful, Franco. You’re laying it on thick.”

“I’m just being honest,” Franco said with an unapologetic shrug, his eyes never leaving yours.

Oscar finally decided to intervene, his voice cutting through the conversation like a blade. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on your race prep, Franco? Or is flirting your new warm-up routine?”

Franco glanced at Oscar, raising an eyebrow. “Relax, mate. Just being friendly.”

Oscar’s glare hardened. “She doesn’t need your ‘friendly.’ She’s here to work, not entertain your distractions.”

You raised an eyebrow, shooting Oscar a sharp look. “I can handle myself, thanks. No need to play bodyguard.”

Franco smirked, clearly enjoying the tension. “Seems like someone’s a little territorial.”

Oscar’s nostrils flared as he took a step closer, his tone laced with irritation. “I’m not territorial. I just don’t think she needs you wasting her time.”

“Oh, but she’s fine with you wasting her time?” Franco shot back, clearly relishing in provoking Oscar.

“Okay,” you interrupted, holding up a hand. “This is officially ridiculous. Franco, it was nice meeting you. Lando, I’ll see you later.”

You turned on your heel and walked further in the McLaren garage, leaving all three men staring after you—Franco amused, Lando bewildered, and Oscar frustrated. The latter’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, a storm brewing in his eyes as he watched you disappear into the distance. Franco bid both men goodbye, and Lando turned to Oscar with an amused look on his face. 

“Gonna tell me what that was about?” He teased, and Oscar shot him the finger, moving towards his side of the garage. 

After the race, you lingered around hospitality, saying your final goodbyes to sponsored guests before gathering your stuff to head back to the hotel. You just came out of the room when you ran, face first into Oscar. His hands came out to steady you, and you were about to thank him until you realized who it was. 

“Excuse me,” you mumbled, trying to get past him, but his grip on your waist tightened. 

“Can we talk?” He aske,d and you were caught off guard.

“About what?” You asked. “How you were about to rip Franco’s head off this morning for talking to me?”

He rolled his eyes, his calm demeanor fading away. 

"I wasn't going to rip his head off," Oscar muttered, releasing his grip on your waist but not stepping back. "I just didn't like how he was talking to you."

You crossed your arms, eyebrow raised. "And how exactly was he talking to me?"

"Like you were some prize to be won," Oscar said, frustration evident in his voice. "Like you were just there for his entertainment."

"As opposed to how you talk to me?" You shot back. "Like I'm some nuisance you have to deal with?"

Oscar's eyes widened slightly, a flash of hurt crossing his features before he masked it. "That's not... I don't think of you like that."

"Could've fooled me," you said, your voice softer now. "Look, Oscar, we don't have to do this. We can just be professional and cordial. No need to rehash old drama.” 

“If that’s what you want,” he said slowly, and you nodded, shifting to move past him. 

“It is, I’ll see you later.” 

—------------------------------------------------

Brazil

You hated the rain. Well, you didn’t always hate it, but it had rained the day your dad died, so you had hated it ever since. It was the world weepin,g and the memory of you doing the same was still fresh. 

“Are you okay?” Lando asked, catching you staring off in the distance at the front of the garage. It was an hour before qualifying was supposed to happen, and you felt yourself start to slip out of reality. You didn’t say anything, so Lando moved closer, pulling your shoulder so you could face him. His eyes widened, seeing yours full of tears, but you were quick to turn back away. 

“I’m fine,” you said firmly. He started to say something again, but the look you gave him felt like a shot to the heart; you looked so sad, and he didn’t know what to do. You only repeated yourself, “I’m fine.” 

You weren’t fine. You knew you were starting to spiral. The first time it happened, it surprised you. You didn’t consider yourself an emotional person, but something about the rain now made you panic. 

Lando left you and headed straight towards Oscar’s driver's room. Someone on the way told him that qualifying had been pushed to tomorrow, but he didn’t stop his stride. Banging open the door, Oscar looked up, surprised at his teammate’s panic. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked. 

“Something is wrong with y/n,” he said breathlessly. Oscar’s brows furrowed. 

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“I noticed her earlier, just standing and staring out at the rain on the track for literally 15 minutes,” Lando said. “Didn’t move an inch. I went up to her and could tell she was very close to losing it.”

“Did she say anything?” Oscar asked, already standing up and heading towards the door. Despite their current relationship, he knew you very well. He could count the number of times he had seen you cry on one hand. 

Lando shook his head. "No, she just kept saying she was fine, but her eyes... Oscar, I've never seen someone look so sad."

Oscar's jaw clenched as he strode out of the room, Lando hurrying to keep up. They made their way through the garage, scanning for you. Oscar spotted you first, still standing motionless at the front of the garage, staring out at the rain-soaked track.

He approached you cautiously, coming to stand beside you. "Y/n?" he said softly.

You didn't respond, didn't even blink. Oscar glanced back at Lando, who gave him an encouraging nod.

"Y/n, can you hear me?" Oscar tried again, gently placing a hand on your shoulder.

The touch seemed to snap you out of your trance. You flinched, turning to look at him, and the second your eyes met his, you crumpled. He quickly pulled you into his arms as you sobbed, his arm rubbing your back. 

“It’s okay, baby,” he soothed, falling back to your old pet name. “I’m here.” 

You gripped his shirt tightly, trying to calm down, and your sobs soon turned to hiccups. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble,d trying to pull away but Oscar didn’t let you, keeping you tight against his body. You rested your cheek against his chest as his hand came up to your head, tangled in your hair. Oscar nodded to Lando to tell him that it was okay and Lando disappeared, leaving the two of you alone. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked. 

“No,” you whispered. “Can we go back to the hotel?”

“Of course,” he said, finally letting you go. He collected your stuff and gripped your hand tightly, leading you to where he had a car waiting. The traffic was insane outside the track; the number of people leaving and the weather was a bad mix. The sound of the rain against the windows made your heart start to race again, so without a second thought, you unbuckled your seatbelt and crawled into Oscar’s lap. 

His arms wrapped around you as you snuggled into the crook of his neck. Neither of you said anything for the rest of the ride, and you had calmed down by the time the car pulled up to the hotel. Sliding off his lap, you got out of the car and headed into the hotel, him right behind you. He didn’t want to overstep, but he did not want to leave you alone, so he lingered awkwardly beside you in the elevator. 

“Are you on the same floor as me?” You asked, noticing he hadn’t hit another number. 

“No,” he said, and you nodded, silently giving him the green light. 

You felt like a shell of yourself when you made it to your room, peeling off your wet outer layers while Oscar kicked off his shoes. 

“Let me draw you a bath,” he offered, and you didn’t answer, but he was already moving into the bathroom and turning on the water. 

You stared out the window, shivering, and that’s where he found you minutes later. 

“Come on, baby,” he whispered, gently pulling you towards the bathroom. You followed him wordlessly and let him help remove your clothes, not flinching under his gaze. He’d seen it all before anyway. You stepped into the bath, and he sat next to the tub, watching you as you closed your eyes and leaned back. 

“It was raining when he died,” you said, breaking the silence. “Now, anytime I hear the noise, it’s all I can think about.” 

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he murmured from beside you. 

You took a deep breath, the warm water soothing your nerves. "It was just over a year ago. He was driving home from work, and... a drunk driver hit him. It was pouring rain that day."

Oscar's hand found yours, gripping it gently. "I'm so sorry, y/n. I had no idea."

"How could you?" you said, a sad smile on your face. "We weren't exactly on speaking terms."

A flash of regret crossed Oscar's features. "I should have been there for you."

You shook your head. "It's not your fault. We both said things we didn't mean."

Oscar was quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. 

“You got your wish, though,” he admitted softly and you looked over at him, confusion in your eyes. 

“About what?”

“I got everything I always dreamed of,” he started. “But I’ve had no one to share it with.” 

“You have Lando and Alex,” you said softly, and he gave you a small smile. 

“It’s not the same,” he said. “Are you ready?” 

He didn’t give you a chance to answer, standing up to grab a towel from nearby. You stood up, letting him wrap it around you and helping you step out of the tub. 

Oscar’s hands lingered at your shoulders as he steadied you, the towel snug around your body. His eyes searched yours, a mixture of guilt and longing in their depths. You could tell he wanted to say something else but hesitated, unsure if this was the right moment.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?” he asked, his brows furrowed.

“For being here,” you replied, your hand brushing against his as you tightened the towel around yourself. “I didn’t know how much I needed it.”

Oscar let out a small, relieved laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t have to thank me, y/n. I’ll always be here. Even if I don’t always know how to show it.”

You nodded, the warmth of his words spreading through you like the bathwater had. It was the first time in a long while you felt truly seen.

“Come on,” he said, tilting his head toward the bedroom. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

He helped you into one of his oversized hoodies, the fabric soft and smelling faintly of him. It felt like a hug, like safety. You settled onto the bed, pulling your knees up to your chest as Oscar perched at the edge, watching you closely.

“Can I stay tonight?” he asked tentatively, his voice careful, like he didn’t want to overstep.

You nodded without hesitation. “Please.”

He moved to the other side of the bed, slipping off his shirt and grabbing the blanket to drape over both of you. The rain was still falling outside, but the sound didn’t feel as suffocating with Oscar beside you. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, and you let yourself lean into him.

As you lay there, Oscar's arm around you, the steady rhythm of his breathing began to lull you into a sense of calm. The rain outside seemed less threatening now, more of a gentle backdrop to the quiet moment you were sharing.

"I've missed this," you whispered, barely audible. "Being close to you like this."

Oscar's arm tightened slightly around you. "Me too," he admitted softly. "More than I realized."

You turned in his embrace to face him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light of the room. There was so much left unsaid between you, years of hurt and misunderstanding, but in this moment, none of that seemed to matter.

"Oscar," you started, your voice trembling slightly. "I'm sorry for what I said that day. About hoping you'd be alone. I didn't mean it."

He shook his head, his hand coming up to your cheek. 

“I deserved it,” he said. “I was so caught up in the excitement that I didn’t consider your feelings. I was miserable that first year without you, more than I’d like to admit. This world can be so lonely, but I had too much pride to come crawling back to you.” 

“I wouldn’t have taken you back anyways,” you said honestly. 

“Would you now?” He asked quietly. “Take me back?” 

You looked at him, his eyes looking deep into your own, and thought about it. 

“Maybe,” you said finally. “But you’d have to work for it.”

“Trust me, I will,” he said, pressing his lips against your forehead. 

He didn't feel alone for the first time in what felt like forever. And as you closed your eyes, exhaustion finally catching up with you, you realized that maybe people were right when they said you’d always find your way back to people you loved. 

[bedouinpoet]

Leader, lover, sir, and broken dream Part 2

Part two of the three. Hope you enjoy my lovelies. Part three coming soon.

warning: 18+ only, smuuuut 🫣dom Hotch, mentions of drug and alcohol use, cheating.

Chapter 2, High on Hotchner

1 year later…

You and Hotch never spoke of that kiss after that, you secretly hoped he was more willing to fight for you. But the case went by easy enough. You found the supposed “short white dude” however despite his insecurities he didn’t match your profile especially when you realized the unsub was a woman. You and Reid figured out it was Victoria Baird’s friend Lindsey who had been doing the kidnapping and murdering, jealous of the attention the girls had, feeling she had deserved it more, you found Victoria alive, and the case was a classic profile. After that case you and Reid got closer, he’d invite you to movies in the park every Sunday, and your friendship grow and you were so glad to have an uncomplicated love, a friendship, and even though you two were just friends, when around Hotch, you made sure to hug him more, lean your head on his shoulder, tease him. Maybe you wanted to punish Hotch, or maybe you were just a glutton for punishment, but you wanted Hotch to be jealous, you wanted him to fight for you, to want you, maybe that was toxic but you felt like he deserved it. However even that didn’t last, because one year after that Kiss Aaron Hotchner moved on, and got a girlfriend, Beth. And you couldn’t even deny it, she was great, great with Jack, great for Hotch, clearly made Hotch happy but it seemed everyone else already knew about Beth except you, you were the last to find out after supporting him during his triathlon. At first you were gonna ignore it, brush it off but it simply kept biting at you, finally Pen made a good point that you couldn’t argue.

“if you and Hotch are actually gonna at least be friends then BE friends, that means TALKING! My lovely lovely iron heart girl. Actually talking, even about the icky uncomfortable talks about feelings-“ she had a point so here you are waiting, waiting for Hotch to be alone and once Garcia leaves she gives you a thumbs up and whispered “good luck” and you make your way to his office. You tap gently on his door, but it’s enough to get his attention. He looks up at you in momentary surprise but quickly reverting back to his usual serious disposition. “Y/n? What’s up?” You stand awkwardly in front of his desk, trying desperately to not remember all the things you two did on that desk, and his chair, and the sofa, and the floor. You sit down so he doesn’t see your legs shake as you get hornier, closing your legs and you clear your throat. “I just wanted to talk to you about something if that’s okay?” “of course” he puts his hands on his desk casually and you refuse to look at those stupid sexy big hairy hands. “Hotch….why didn’t you tell me about Beth? I mean….it just seemed like everyone else knew about her? Specially Dave BUT me, and I thought we agreed we were gonna try to be friends-friends mention that sort of thing Hotch-“

”do they?” His tone seemed accusatory and you didn’t get why but his face remained the same furrowed eyebrow way “what?”

“Well you said friends say these kind of things but when I asked you on repeated occasion what’s going on between you and Spencer Reid, you tell me its none of my business or accuse me of only asking because I am jealous.”

you feel your cheeks flush with shame but that heat then turns to anger and defence “that’s different Hotch and you know it-“

“how so?”

you feel your attitude showing up even though you told yourself not to make this an argument, every time you two have spoken you end up bickering “because I’m not accusing you of boning a co worker AGAIN first Morgan then Reid, Jeeze it’s like you think heaven forbid someone could just be friends with me without me wanting to fuck em!? And for your information no. Me and Reid are just friends. Close friends sure, but friends….and if that’s seriously why you didn’t tell me about Beth that’s pathetic and petty as hell!”

You feel in your gut you crossed the line by calling him pathetic and petty as he clenches his fists almost shaking. His eyes became an absolute storm. For a moment you want to push that storm further, you want him to punish you for such ‘insubordination’ but you feel yourself stop, he’s with someone you remind yourself, this isn’t a game. But that look, that dark foreboding, domineering look that drives you crazy and it gives you the courage to not back down. As he continues

“you really expect me to believe that? I see how you two are together, always hugging, hands on each other-“

”yes because we’re FRIENDS! I hug my friends, I’m like that with Morgan too and with Pen, my love language is touch you know that.” He scoffs “well that’s pretty unprofessional in the work space-“ you raise your eyebrows in absolute shock you can’t help but laugh, that feeling of Deja vu again becoming overwhelming but this time you aren’t backing down, you wont give him the satisfaction of submitting. “Are you fucking serious right now? I think we both know that argument is null in void Hotchner or are you forgetting the last time we had this talk, as I recall THAT time it was jealousy and you speak of professionalism here when you didn’t give much of a shit about professionalism when you bent me over that desk and fucked me to next Tuesday!? And you know what I think that’s what this is about…I think you ARE Jealous still!” You spot a blush on Hotch’s cheeks, as his eyes darken at the mention of what he did to you but then he averts his eyes for split second. Then he re builds his composure, his confidence resurfaces when he scoffs and rolls his eyes “Don’t be ridiculous y/n….i am your boss, no one else speaks to me the way you do and yet maybe that’s my fault I let it happen too long and you think this behaviours is ok-“

“Don’t scold me like a child and your diverting-“ your blood begins to boil over.

“Then stop acting like one! And I’m not jealous of anything, I have nothing to be jealous of” his face falls in guilt as he sees the pain in your eyes. That struck you far harder than expected with absolute burning venom to your veins. It takes the breath out of you and the fight out of you too. You feel you really may have been stretching it thinking he still cared for you in that way. You stand up, your body moves as your mind shuts down. “Y/n where are you going?”

“I didn’t come to argue Aaron….I mean Hotch….I just want to be friends” your feel tears in your eyes yet you can’t seem to cry. You finally look at him as his voice turns gentle “y/n I-“

“its fine Hotch….I’m sorry for overstepping, I thought we were friends I guess I was wrong….see you Monday Boss”

with that you left. The idea of staying in any proximity to Hotch was something you couldn’t bear right now…

…

You spent the first two hours at home crying and drinking, then drinking and reading, then putting on your tv flipping through channels, passing every romance movie with venom and hurt. Until you finally land on one your favourites “Ha! Halloween movie marathon perrrrfect Fuck romance” you slightly slur to the empty room, you order a pizza and some wings and start to watch, after having some wings you feel yourself slightly sober up. That’s when you remember you have a few joints somewhere hidden in the kitchen, you rummage through, desperate for a new distraction. What were you thinking, acting so cocky with Hotch!? Thinking he was jealous when he has…Beth. You finally find the pack you hid for a rainy day and dam it was storming in your mind. You sit down and light up the first joint, after the fifth puff you’re already glad you remembered these little delights when ‘knock knock knock’

“fuckl!” You whisper blowing out your puff waving the smoke away like that will get rid of the smell,

knock knock knock

“yes yes yes alright I’m coming!”

You open your door roughly only to stop dead almost losing your breath as you see Aaron Hotchner, disheveled, tired eyes, standing at your door ‘fuck…I am too damn drunk and high for this’ you think as anxiety fills you that Hotch, a unit chief of the FBI, Aaron Hotchner a fricken Profiler will definitely spot the dilated pupils, the smell, your change in character….have you been standing here too long?

“um y/n? M-may I come in?” You move aside still scared to talk like you’ll shout “I’m stoned as fuck right now dude” so you stay quite as he steps inside, his faint smell of cologne makes you want to swoon into his arms. You notice even his clothes are disheveled, his tie loose around his neck, no suite jacket, shirt wrinkled, now your scared

“Urrrmm….Hotch? What’s wrong?”

those joints are really starting to kick in and all you could think is how thirsty you were and not just for water, hoping this will be quick visit so you can help yourself. You also really need to sit down.

“Nothing….i just- y/n I hate the way we ended things today, can we please just talk? Please?” You feel your breath quicken but you can’t say no to his pleading. But you did way too much weed for a serious conversation “are you okay?” You just nod “water want some?” Is all you Can say. He smiles thankfully“sure thanks”

“cool…sit down I’ll bring us”

you fill your cup and chug it down for dear life then fill it again and a cup for Hotch.

You start to whisper to yourself “don’t trip don’t trip don’t trip” you slowly give him the cup as your eyes widen as you realize how fucked you are, you see all the bottles on the table in front of Hotch….and the joints. You notice a slight knowing smirk pulling at his lips

“thaaaat….is….medicinal” the smirk becomes a full blown laugh like honey “did you ever really believe that when someone told you the same lie?”

“Nah, I usually look the other way when it comes to weed, what are you gonna do cuff me?” You wink and his eyes turn from light laughter to darkness, your mouth is dry but your panties become wet.

“You know you shouldn’t admit that to me, I’m your boss”

you shrug sitting down next to Hotch and lift one of the fresh joints “we’re off the clock and this is my home, right now you’re just some dude who knows where I live” he merely laughs and shakes his head “ok fair point” he starts to watch you intently as you lift the joint to your lips, in your mouth as you light it up. Being the brat you are you take a deep inhale. You look back at Hotch and smirk “want some?” You offer it to him and he seems clearly hesitant.

“Oh sorry you probably have to go to Jack I wont keep you-“

“actually Jack is having a sleep over at a friends house and….well Beth lives in New York now”

“Oh….im sorry that must be tough with your schedules”

He looks away from you and you fear you said something.

“Yes I suppose but I go when I can and vice versa”

“that’s good at least…so….since you don’t have to drive I repeat the offer….want some? You can crash on my couch if you want….unless your scared, goody two shoes” low blow but thankfully his laugh shows he knows your teasing and he takes the joint and inhales like a pro. Your shock evident as he laughs and inhales again.

“Aaron-I don’t know your middle name- Hotchner….have you smoked weed before?” You puff twice before handing it back to him….He tries to not cough as he laughs

“goody two shoes? What are you twelve? Who says that now?” You find yourself laughing uncontrollably, a proper laugh, that rolls off you effortlessly. You haven’t felt this in a long time “maybe, now answer the question doody head” you take the joint from him. He laughs and shakes his head

“Well I wasn’t always the ‘goody two shoes’…I used to actually be the problem child when I was young, I was always getting into stupid trouble…” he paused like deep in thought, you shuffle closer beside him and nudge his knee “so? What happened to make the Hotch we all know and love today?” You hope he didn’t notice you saying love and he clearly doesn’t as he takes two rather large puffs and passes it back “I grow up…I figured I had two choices, keep making the same bad choices or be the person my family needed me to be after my dad died. I had to be there for Sean and mom and I wanted….I wanted to be good enough for Haley” he trails off again and you allow the moment of silence for her… and for him. Finally you clear your throat passing it back “well…sounds like little Aaron was pretty smart and I’m glad he made the choices he did or else we wouldn’t have you” you kiss his cheek like it was the most natural thing to do…Fuck your stoned, why did you do that? Hotch blushes and smiles flustered, his smile allows you to breath a little…”thanks y/n”

“Any time hun”

you look into those velvety chocolate eyes, his eyes are blood shot but his pupils become so dilated you wonder if that’s all the weed or if, like you, he’s horny as hell, your eyes dart between his eyes and mouth and you notice him doing the same, staying on your lips long enough to make you lightly lick them. You feel as if times stopped and the air is heavy, the room closing in. Hotch opens his mouth to speak a few times still flustered “I should-“

“yea”

and without a thought you grab his shirt and kiss him like there’s no tomorrow, you stop only for a moment to make sure he is ok but as you looked at those eyes, that handsome, painfully loving and brave face, without thinking you say. “I shouldn’t have turned you away….i was in so much pain that day and I was scared, even though I wanted you….want you…so bad…I need you right now Aaron” his eyes darkened looking at your pleading horny filled eyes, you were so wet it was uncomfortable sitting so still.

“y/n-“ he searches for what to say, so you stop him “please ….Aaron”

Hotche’s breathing hitches at the sound of his name, you can tell he’s holding back, like an animal in a cage, but that cage is wavering. You start to squirm needing to feel his touch so bad. You damn near pout lightly caressing his leg. “Fuck it” he growls as he grabs you by the neck and pulls you in for a kiss that feels like it can consume you. His touches rough, needy, possessive he grabs your jaw holding it tight as he growls “open your mouth baby” you obey without question and he puts two fingers in, you suck them desperately, he quickly hisses as you start to palm the hard-on that’s fighting against his pants. He stares at you sucking his fingers like it’s the hottest thing in the world “fuck sweetheart the things I want to do to you”

“do it…do all of it…punish me sir please I need you” he shoves his fingers back in your mouth this time rougher, like he’s angry.

“want me to punish you for being the pretty little tease you are hmm? Want me to punish you for all your insubordination, looking at me with those eyes, wearing those dresses, showing off what I can’t touch, you know how much that killed me? Trying to make me jealous huh?” All you can do is gag just wishing he’ll use his cock soon, he takes his fingers from your mouth grabbing you by the neck “answer me baby…I wanna hear what you want” you stutter, trying to think of words as you feel his touch like a drug under your shirt moving up to your breasts (thank gosh you decided not to wear a bra right now) he pinches your nipple “answer me y/n” he pinches harder and you shout “fuck! Yes….yes sir I want-fuck- I- need you to punish me, fuck me, let me taste please sir” if this was anyone else you’d feel pathetic but with Aaron….it felt right, you wanted it and more so right now with how high you both were, every touch felt like an orgasm you just needed more. “p-pl-please…Daddy”

It was the first time trying that nickname but it had the effect you hoped for. Aaron growled and gave a gutteral moan and his lips was on yours, this time biting your bottom lip so hard it bled, he stood up and his every action just got you wetter as he looked down at you, slowly taking off his belt “be a good girl, take off your shirt now” you feel yourself shake at his gaze as you take your shirt off slowly, anything for more. He unzips and lowers his pants and boxers just low enough for his cock to spring out. You forgot how big his cock was you swallow at the idea of having it down your throat, excited as you see the pre cum glisten his tip. Hotch grabs your jaw tight forcing you to look up at him. “Open wide sweetheart….wider” you open as wide as you can, your tongue sticking out to finally get a taste. He smiles down at you like a sight to behold “mmm good girl, you’re gonna take my cock like my good slut and you don’t stop till I say so….nod that you understand and agree babe” you nod repeatedly just needing to feel it. Without warning he shoves his cock deep down your throat, you gag and choke but you just want more as you put your hand at his base, he doesn’t let up, he pulls your hair thrusting hard….you wanted punishment, he’s going to give it to you

“fuuuuuck y/n your mouth feels so damn good! Fuck that’s right take it baby…you wanted to get me jealous huh? Knew it would drive me crazy seeing Reid and Morgan’s hands on you- fuck!” His legs almost buckle when he thrusts so deep your nose touches the little hairs at his base and you gag

“fucking take my cock and remember who you belong too”

hearing his possessiveness through his guttural moans as he grunts and thrusts deep down your throat drove you crazy, you had to touch yourself or you’d explode. You put your hand down your shorts and you rub your clit, moaning and gagging on his cock, his hands tight gripped on your hair. You hear Hotch’s laugh, a dark, horny laugh “you just can’t wait huh sweetheart? Your pussy needs it huh….what does your pussy need baby tell Daddy?” He finally lets you breath, the tip of his cock playing on your lips, slapping your face

“you sir, please, my pussy needs you Aaron please”

he cups your face the first moment of gentleness and for a moment you think he will give in. He rubs his thumb on your bottom lip, smirking with dark eyes like he has plans. “You really thought I was gonna make it so easy? Tsk tsk tsk you’re gonna suck my cock a little longer and no touching that clit unless I say-“ you start to whimper “but-“

“no buts, give me your hands” you obey reluctantly, confused and excited for whatever he has planned. He grabs your wrists with one hand, grabbing his belt with the other. You watch in excitement, heated, needy awe as he ties your hands together. He keeps a hold of your tied hands while he uses his other to continue pulling your hair. Full control of your body. His breathing staggering as he orders

“open”

you obey taking every inch until you gag, the moment he hears those sounds he thrusts harder and harder. Your throat burns but you don’t want it to stop, even for water, you feel tears start to roll down your cheeks, your spit down your chin, all of it just makes Aaron rougher, his breathing ragged as his thrusts become more sporadic. You know he’s close you suck his cock like your life depends on it. “fuck y/n!” with that final thrust you feel his cum down your throat and coat your mouth. He thrusts a few more times just to make sure every drop is down your throat. As he gets out he closes your mouth “swallow babe” you do “again” you do and open your mouth just to prove you swallowed it sticking your tounge out. Hotch takes his opportunity putting your tongue in his mouth kissing you as he takes off your shorts. Caressing every part of you then pinching your nipples hard enough to make you shout “Aaron!” He pinches again as he kisses down your neck biting hard at your pulse point….you know he’s gonna leave a million marks and it only turns you on more.

“A-Aaron please I need you I-i can’t wait please” your pleading evident in your entire body as he looks at you with those caramel eyes and you know he’s given in. He kisses you gently “let’s go to your room it’s time your pussy got some attention sweetheart”

his boxers and and pants already off the only thing standing between you and Aaron Hotchner’s naked body is his dress shirt and loosened tie…you take his hand leading him to your bedroom, as you smile back at him you see Hotch taking off his tie, and unbuttoning his shirt with one hand….fuck what those hands could do. The second you close the bedroom door after you, Hotch pins you to the door hard enough to knock the wind out of you and no time to take a breath with his lips on yours again, you start to pump his already hardening cock as you feel his fingers tease your clit at an excruciating pace, you can’t remember the last time you felt so good and remember that it was always like this with Aaron, like he knows your body and every weak spot you have. You grasp his hair for support as he sticks two fingers in you relentlessly and you grab his hair harder as he groans. “sir..please no more teasing I need you so bad”

with your final plea he lifts you and takes you to the bed, putting you down and in that moment he’s on top of you, you feel an overwhelming sense of warmth, this feeling like everything is right, he looks in your eyes and you can see he feels the same way “y/n- I-i love you”

your heart pounds at the unexpected confession and you feel speechless all you can do is kiss him over and over as he adjusts himself to your entrance and thrusts home. First at a slow pace allowing you to adjust to his size, but then he stays at that pace to tease you until you wrap your legs around his waist, just wanting to feel every inch of him stretch you, with that his pace turns relentlessly harder, and harder and harder as he pulls your hair and bites your neck, your shoulder, cupping and squeezing your breasts as you moan his name over and over as he groans and grunts, and praises “you feel so good honey so fucking good” it’s like candy to your ears and you can’t get enough as you feel that coil inside you about to snap, you scratch down Hotch’s back and you clench his cock, moaning in unison as you orgasm on him and he fucks you through it. Your entire body shakes and you feel Aaron’s pace go harder and faster as he chases his own high. Until he’s about to pull out but you keep your legs wrapped around him

“y/n I’m about to cu-“

“in me please I wanna feel it” with that permission he lets go thrusting hard and deep making sure his seed is deep inside. For a few minutes you both just stay there. His head nuzzles in your neck as you play with his hair, his cock softening inside you. “I think you should sleep in my bed tonight….couch is too far away and I’m cold”

he laughs in your neck “oh I see, I’m supposed to be just your heated blanket?” You nod excitedly

“yup…no other reason Mr Heated blanket you run hot I need heat it’s like free heating”

he laughs again and you could listen to that sound for eternity as he stands up and you feel his warmth missing and it makes you whimper he leans in to kiss your forheard “I’m just getting us some water sweetheart….that was a lot of marijuana you need to stay hydrated, do you need anything else honey?”

You try to think but all you do is stare at that man’s body so you smile and shake your head “just hurrry I’m cold” he takes a moment to look at you and leaves. You start to really get cold so you snuggle under the blanket making sure to keep the space for Hotch as he comes back in. He hands you a cup “drink” you take the cup “thanks” you’re about to put it down when “nun uh uh drink, that pretty mouth and throat worked hard today. Need to hydrate baby…” you smile, your heart..you feel cracks in that wall you built up. He takes care of you, he understands you, like no one has ever understood you and your after care is a piece of heaven. You drink some of the water and lay down as he does the same, taking you in his arms and holding you as close to him as possible. you both doze off in bliss….until the next morning when everything hits and everything falls apart…

to be continued