#something something the longing and yearning for someone who is already gone all while you ask for answers to an entity that gives you none

[lais-a-ramos]

the other day i finally read the poem "the raven" by edgar allan poe, and that is very yellowjackets and also very lottielee

[bnpd]

❛❛ the bed's getting cold and you're not here ❜❜

now playing : the heart wants what it wants by selena gomez ♫⋆.˚

SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend left to travel the world for a press tour that'll last months. the distance between you causes a rift. however much it hurts, you love him and you'll choose what your heart wants above all else. will you soon regret your decision?

DRABBLE WORD COUNT: 1.2k tags: angst pairing: jungkook x reader

author's note: not proofread, I wrote this after I saw this jungkook edit. i miss jungkook so bad </3

It’s been weeks since he left for his press tour. And the ache in your heart remains. 

Long periods of time where he’d leave you cold and wanting. Days gone without contacting one another. 

Every other week you’d schedule a video or voice call, and those 30 to 60 minutes would feel amazing. Until he’d get pulled away for a meeting, or a responsibility in his heavily packed schedule. 

He'd send you endless pictures and videos of his favorite sights, but it only stung more. Not being able to be there for him or experience these new sights with him. How could you? You had a life back home.

A life full of work and personal responsibilities. Maybe you could leave it behind for just a moment, but you had already gave up so much for him.

You had so much to lose while he had an inch. You lost so much in the process of it all.

Secrets about your relationship ruined your friendships. No one could know you were dating Jungkook, sneaking around created mistrust within your friendships.

You had to be cautious or else word would get around and suddenly everything would get blown out of proportion. The pinch of privacy would diminish in a heartbeat. 

You began to put him above your friends. How could you not? The way he made you feel was electrifying. It was him or no one. 

He didn’t treat you wrong, never disrespected you or made you feel less of who you were as a person. He completed you. But his work as an idol meant so much more to him. It consumed him and his time. 

You understood. You met him as someone who was dedicated to his craft. Somebody who spent day and night proving himself in a dance studio or a record booth. 

You sigh as you watch your call go to voicemail. Your throat tightens, and tears begin to blur your vision. 

You swallow the lump in your throat before setting your phone face down on the table. Too much of a coward to antagonize yourself over a possible message from him. 

He promised. And he broke it.

Lately, he’d been blowing you off. You knew how much this press tour meant to him. How much time and dedication he put into this. How content he would feel after finishing. How he needed this to feel more worthy of his role as a singer. 

This time it felt a little different. He’d always make it to your scheduled calls. He’d never miss a date or a detail. You were beyond worried. 

Some say it’s a weakness, staying, but it takes so much of you everyday. It’s a strength in itself, although some say it’s a weakness. Like today. 

Today, it feels like your heart pounds against your chest at the thought of him, yearning for him. 

Sometimes you weaken—sometimes days feel never ending and you find yourself wondering what the future holds. It’s during days like these where the ache feels too uncertain, and the unknown renders you helpless. 

It pains you to watch him all over your social media, smiling and content. While you curl up on his side of the shared bed on most nights, watching him from the other side of the world, waiting to even hear from him directly. 

You met him 7 years ago. You were working as a tattoo artist–still are–and he came in with his friend, looking for a sentimental tattoo—something that would stick with him. 

So, you drafted up some pieces for him based on what he shared with you. Shockingly, he only wanted a four letter word on his knuckles. You happily obliged. 

Then, he kept coming for more tattoos. And more, and more.

As a tattoo artist, sometimes you get close to a client. Especially when said client appreciates art, and an outside perspective on his thoughts through another artist's point of view. 

Then two years down, he asked you out. 

You should have known better than to involve yourself with a lifestyle like Jungkook’s. You had dealt with quite a few semi-popular clients throughout your years of working. But Jungkook? He was by far, the most special one.

The media had begun to speculate about your relationship, but Jungkook never made a comment on it and soon they forgot about it. Or they buried it under the rest of the endless theories. 

Soon though, things began to get a little hectic. With how fast BTS was rising to fame his time for you began to dwindle. 

You wish you were strong enough to leave and find better. But you don’t want to. Your heart is content in being where it is. With him. Where it belongs. 

Even as he takes it with him far away. 

You smile pitifully before blowing out your birthday candles. A pain in your chest explodes and it begins to invade your insides, suffocating you. It leaves you breathless and winded. It wounds you so strongly that you rub your chest in a futile attempt to ease the pain. 

It hurts more when you recall the last conversation you two had. Was he still upset?

“Baby…come on, don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be like what?” You frown, knowing he won’t see it, but the yearning in your chest makes you ache all over. 

“Like that.” You can hear the slight frustration in his tone and it almost makes you burst out in tears. You try your best to keep your composure. For his sake and yours.

“I’m not trying to be like anything,” you murmur, “I just miss you. It’s been several days where I haven't heard from you.” 

He sighs on the other end of the phone before speaking, “I miss you too, and I know. I’m sorry for that. But hearing you like this isn’t making it any easier for me.” 

You feel incredibly annoying. It hurts to miss him everyday.

Maybe expressing your feelings about it may not have helped. 

But in the end, you're just as hurt and sometimes the emotions bottled up come out unwarranted. “And you think it’s any easier for me?” 

Now you’re just peeved at his reaction. When you told him about the ache in your chest from his absence you didn’t mean to offend him. You simply wanted to find safety in his reassurance. 

So, you continue to push a little more, “Is it so wrong to miss my boyfriend? I’m sorry if my tone doesn’t sound like the happiest person in the world. I just miss you.”

“Well, I’m trying to have a conversation with you and you’re just bringing my mood down with all this shit.”

His rough tone laced in annoyance stuns you to silence. 

“Okay. Then, I’ll just take it somewhere else.”

“Wait–” You hang up the phone before the tears begin to fall freely. 

Truthfully you felt guilty after your conversation with Jungkook. After you cried out, you reflected and realized that his words held some truth. Would you have felt good if your partner called you and they sounded a bit dejected? Of course. 

So you texted him an apology, acknowledging his feelings and your mistakes. 

Unfortunately for you, he never replied. 

The next phone call never acknowledged the incident. But you did—countless times in your cage of a mind. 

Jungkook was, by no means, awful to you. Before he left on his press tour, he was the most amazing boyfriend. Which is why you give him some leeway.

He’s a busy man, an honest and loyal one. You trust him with your life. He’s worth the ache, you convince yourself. He’s worth the sleepless nights full of sadness and endless insecurities. A man like Jungkook is rare to come by. 

So, you’ll hold onto him until you can’t—until your arms ache and they physically can no longer withstand the strain. 

You’ll wait for him, for as long as you must. You just hope you’re still worth coming home to when he returns. Then, you hope tomorrow goes easier on your hopelessly devoted heart. 

NOTES: ngl might make a part 2 of jungkooks pov, using a JB song that fits this exact scenario. and I AM CURRENTLY ACTIVELY WORKING ON GOJO FIC, ITS LONG ASF !

feel more than welcome to submit a request <3 ᥫ᭡ join my tag list : join my girlypop disc: link ‹𝟹

©2025 bnpd. All rights reserved to the copyrights owner. Do not share, plagiarize, or translate.

[fawndrip]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。 build a fic! 　ﾟ･｡･

(pick a quote + a feeling + a trope ! let’s see what fic you end up with.)

author's addition: this lil build-a-fic is inspired by @scealaiscoite ’s adorable idea ! her prompt lists are literal perfection. go stalk her blog pls she’s the best ever 🧸

— a quote !

☆ “stop smiling like that. it’s distracting.”

☆ “you make it really hard to stay just friends.”

☆ “why does it feel like a goodbye?”

☆ “you’re blushing.” — “no i’m not.”

☆ “just friends don’t look at each other like that.”

☆ “i missed you. that’s all.”

☆ “you remember the little things. that’s what gets me.”

☆ “tell me to stay. and i will.”

☆ “my hand fits so perfectly in yours. it's like i'm made for you”

☆ “do you want me to leave?” — “no. i want you to stay forever.”

☆ “i think i knew it was you. even back then.” — “then stay.” — “but that's the thing. i don't know if i know you anymore.”

☆ “i don’t know how to stop wanting you.”

☆ “this means something. don’t pretend it doesn’t.”

☆ “you’re not just anyone. you’re you.”

☆ “if we kiss now, everything changes.” — “i know but that's a risk i'm willing to take.”

☆ “i’ve been in love with you since the night we met.”

☆ “tell me it meant nothing. lie if you have to.”

☆ “i was easy to leave, wasn’t i?”

☆ “you don’t get to miss me now. you lost that right when we broke up.”

☆ “say something. anything. please.”

☆ “i loved you. that should’ve been enough.”

☆ “i wish i didn’t remember everything.”

☆ “don’t look at me like you still care.”

☆ “i’m tired of pretending this doesn’t hurt.”

☆ “you said forever. i believed you.”

☆ “if you didn’t mean it, why did you say it?”

☆ “you chose them. you always do.”

☆ “i don’t hate you. i just wish i’d never met you.”

☆ “you let me go like i was nothing.”

☆ “please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

☆ “are you sure? cause whatever this is it doesn’t feel like love.”

☆ “it’s always been you. i just didn’t know how to say it.”

☆ “say that again. i dare you.”

☆ “you really don’t see it, do you?”

☆ “i think i like you. like, like like you.”

☆ “do you always look at people like that?”

☆ “you make it really hard to think straight.”

☆ “oh my god. you’re blushing.”

☆ “this means something. don’t pretend it doesn’t.”

☆ “i should’ve kissed you when i had the chance.”

☆ “you’re not helping. you’re being pretty. it's distracting.”

☆ “you make me nervous in the best way.”

☆ “every time you look at me, i forget what i was saying.”

☆ “just admit it. you like me.”

☆ “if you don’t kiss me right now, i might explode.”

☆ “you’re dangerously good at that smile.”

— a feeling !

♡ longing ♡ comfort ♡ fear ♡ hope ♡ guilt ♡ joy ♡ jealousy ♡ trust ♡ confusion ♡ safety ♡ regret ♡ tenderness ♡ ache ♡ peace ♡ want ♡ yearning ♡ hesitation ♡ betrayal ♡ relief ♡ pride ♡ vulnerability ♡ nostalgia ♡ admiration ♡ disbelief ♡ grief ♡ devotion ♡ loneliness ♡ warmth ♡ embarrassment ♡ desire

— a trope !

☾ only one bed ☾ mutual pining ☾ fake dating gone real ☾ friends to lovers ☾ strangers to almosts ☾ found family ☾ rivals with tension ☾ the “oh” moment ☾ confessions at 2am ☾ sunshine x grump ☾ forbidden ☾ hurt/comfort ☾ secretly in love ☾ reunion after years ☾ accidental domesticity ☾ slow burn ☾ “just friends” denial ☾ second chances ☾ love letters never sent ☾ childhood friends ☾ exes ☾ soulmates who don’t believe in fate ☾ enemies on the same side ☾ sleep talking confessions ☾ one falling first, the other falling harder ☾ patching up wounds with shaky hands ☾ “who did this to you?” ☾ dancing in the kitchen ☾ jealousy over nothing (but also everything) ☾ late-night phone calls ☾ caught in the rain ☾ almost kissing but someone interrupts ☾ waking up next to them ☾ fixing each other’s tie/collar ☾ taking care of them while they’re sick

GIVE CREDITS TO @iamgonnagetyouback / @fawndrip

[makingfanfictionstosleep]

to be finally chosen

disclaimer : one shot | caleb x non-mc | mc being a 'pick me girl' | light romance

he always knew that his best friend would never look at him the same he does, especially after her memories resurface, after she remembered that she's the onychinus leader's mate.

it broke him in ways he couldnt explain.

he'd always be that person in her eyes - the best friend. nothing more, nothing less.

he hated it, but couldnt do anything about it.

how could he pop that bubble of happiness?

that smile that he yearned for, plastered stupidly on her face while she talks about sylus, all girly and giddy.

sometimes he just wants to smack that name off her lips.

he wished she'd smile like that because of him - not as her best friend, but as her lover.

so, he decided to just go on with his life, his miserable, sad life, taking one mission after another, dropping on his bed due to exhaustion, mind numb to even think about anything.

until he was promoted as the leader of the fleet - the colonel.

until he met you - who was assigned to be under his watch for protection, because you were another successful subject - one they all hoped to subdue and control.

and though it was purely his instinct, he looked after you, made sure you were around him, made sure you were safe.

but what had drawn him to you was your strength and control - unlike his best friend, who is reckless and brash to take things head on.

no, you were entirely different. you were soft, yet determined and calculated, afraid to make mistakes, afraid to cause casualties or affect others by your decisions.

that is why you decided to be compliant, for now, until you find the right people to ally with - the right people to rely on and hope that you'd get the freedom that you have always dreamed of - away from ever.

caleb watched you, observed you, analyzed you. everything felt new, yet strangely familiar, but something inside him says this is different - that he can do something differently.

maybe he is doing this because of his lingering feelings towards his best friend, maybe because he thought he failed to protect her, was gone most of the time, until she was out of his reach.

maybe he is seeing her in you.

however, little by little, you are proving him wrong.

how? those little things that you do - how you rush to his aid during missions when you were already cleared to partake in some as long as he is there, how you'd give him one of those limited edition figurines that he once yapped during mission downtime - not even saying a lot about it but you remembered, to his birthday wherein you have always made it a point that it should still be celebrated even if it's week late since he decided to go home to linkon and try to spend it with her but got disappointed because she's with sylus.

you remembered the little things from your short and brief small talks, you never pushed but you somehow remained by his side when he is down, never asking, you were just there - present for him, undivided attention - all of it on him and no one else.

you were always there with him, not only because he is keeping an eye on you, but also because you seemed to simply wanna hang out around him, even if there were plenty of chances for you to hang out with others. nope, you decided that the company of the brooding colonel is better than others.

it was weird, but somehow, it felt satisfying for him.

he'd find a cup of warm coffee on his desk during hours of investigation, or a meal tray which reminded him that he missed to eat again.

those mundane things that he used to do for his best friend - you were doing it to him, and he liked it. for the longest time, he had always been caring and looking after her, but his actions and affections were scarcely returned, as if he has always been an afterthought, a constant person who would be there to pick up the pieces if her heart is broken, or if she has problems.

but now, come to think of it, she wasn't really there when he needed someone to talk to.

slowly, he began to see you differently, completely different from his best friend, until his affections are slowly leaning towards you.

"hey," he heard you approach him, "its almost lunch time. you have to eat at some point."

there it is - the care and concern from your soft voice that he is starting to miss every time he spends his holidays and breaks at linkon, until he begins to make the vacation days at linkon shorter so that he can, maybe, spend time with you - hopefully.

"huh? caleb? weren't you supposed to be on vacation?"

he rubbed the back of neck, a little bit shy and felt a bit awkward in front of you, not knowing what to say and also because you look so damn pretty in that pink floral sundress that emphasizes your curves and figure a little too well.

"i, uh, decided to come back early," he said, trying to keep his composure and trying not to blush too hard when he caught a tiny, satisfied smile that you tried to hide, "i figured i havent been spending a lot of time here unless im on missions. im always at the base, so im curious if anything's changed in the city."

"wanna look around? i plan on wasting my time there, walking around aimlessly until i find something interesting," his heart jumped when you offered and tried not to appear too excited with it.

"i guess having a tour guide wont hurt," he gave a boyish smile at you, and he noticed how your cheeks flushed pink in an adorable way that he liked.

spending time with you was worth it. you were different when you're wearing the fleet uniform, well he is too, so this is refreshing for him.

he cant even remember the last time he felt this light, this relaxed, almost joyful and giddy. the last time was before the explosion, before he laid his life to protect his best friend, taking the brunt of it as he tried to contain it using his evol.

well, one thing was accomplished by that - doctor josephine died and he doesnt feel remorseful at all because people like her shouldnt exist. people like her, who experiments on humans, on him, his best friend... and the others who managed to lay low and stay alive got their hands on you - the second successful subject.

he understood what its like, and he was astonished at how you handled it all - how you were calm and waiting for the right timing to strike from within.

and when he found out about that - he had decided to help you, even if you dont ask for it.

those were his thoughts as he trailed behind you around the city, wandering lazily, humming in satisfaction as the sun slowly sets down.

he saw a cafe, asked if you wanted to rest there since he noticed that your steps lacked the same bounce that it had earlier - figured you were tired.

you nodded happily and went with him.

you made him laugh effortlessly, made him feel what its like to look forward again - without relying on exhausting missions and training to numb his mind.

nope.

you made him look forward to tomorrow again, hoping that he'd get another chance to see that smile again - the smile that is only for him, the smile that is because of him.

months later, you finally asked him, finally confronted him, face scared yet there's that determined look beneath that terrified beautiful face.

he'd wipe that terror from your expression, vowed that you'd never have to be afraid again.

he said yes easily, before his heart could even beat, before the clock's hand ticked towards the next second. he said yes and he'd always say yes to you.

"why would you do this for me?" you asked, both in confusion and relief, as you gently held on to his arms, looking straight in his eyes, hoping for answers to calm your heart and push your fears.

"because you're you," he answered softly, "you made me see that there's hope. you gave me a chance to do the right thing. you gave me an opportunity to feel - love again, when i thought i cant do it anymore."

and he kissed you, it swept you off your feet, made your knees tremble.

"this time, we'd crush ever," he said with a promise, gaze intense and determined, one that told you he'd never break it, not as the fleet's commander, but as your caleb, "and no one can hurt you again."

and his heart melted when you accepted it - his offer, his warmth and promise without a question, as if you're holding on to him for your dear life - as if he is the only one who can make you safe.

he knows your strength all too well, knows that you were trying to suppress it so that ever would have the notion that you're weak, make you look like a harmless sheep who survived because of luck. he found it attractive - the way you manipulated the biggest organization, bidding your time and now you are making a move to strike.

he couldn't help but kiss you at that moment.

and you let him, melted in his arms right there, as he felt something click in place - you're perfect right there, you belong in his arms.

ever slowly loosened its hold on you, until he was able to finally take you with him to linkon for the first time.

and when you met his best friend, who was passive-aggressive towards you with her subtle hints that she knew him better than you do, while you remained composed, despite the growing rivalry - as both you and her felt the aether cores within your bodies, yet you never allowed yourself to lose control - not when you have a plan being set in motion.

he was stunned and in awe of your control.

the cake topper was when his best friend told him that she saw the limited edition figurine set that he was yapping about ages ago, you just rolled your eyes at that and caleb was a bit flustered.

"weren't you looking for it? i found one at the shop near my place. wanna go there tomorrow?" she asked a bit too playful for your liking

caleb rubbed the back of his neck, a habit whenever he feels awkward or flustered, averted his eyes from her and answered, "yeah about that, i already have the complete set, two weeks after it was released."

"what? but its a limited set, the stocks aren't that many," she said in confusion, but caleb already knew that she had forgotten that she promised to get it for him yet he was already used to it.

"ummm," caleb said uncomfortably, "she actually got it for me, so no need to worry about it now."

of course, his best friend gave an attitude about it by sulking, knowing that caleb would try and make her feel better. you, on the other hand, tried not to think much about it, but somehow your confidence is wavering cause afterall, they're best friends and she's his first love so its hard to compete with that. also, you're not down for any competition. you won't stoop that low.

so you sat there, trying to keep it all together and you gasped when you felt caleb's reassuring hand on your knees, his attention on you right way when he noticed that you have that conflicted look, one that told him you're feeling uncomfortable and also worried about where you stood in his life.

"hey," he said softly, with that handsome boyish smile that you love, "you got something here," he said then leaned a bit and wiped something off the corner of your lips. you knew there was nothing there, so you figured that this is his way to let you know that his eyes are always on you.

"there's nothing there caleb," you pouted, and he poked your cheek playfully.

"i know," he shrugged, tucking loose hair strands behind your ear, "its just an excuse to make you blush."

of course it worked. it always works whenever he does something like that.

and his best friend? she was glaring at you for stealing the attention of caleb since she used to have his undivided focus and concern - all the time. but she disregarded all that. maybe its not her fault, or maybe it was. maybe she could have treated him differently, made him feel important and not an afterthought or like a toy that she can tuck away when she's not interested then play with it when bored.

but you're not here to judge. you weren't there during the times when they grew up. that bond is theirs and you will never take that away from them.

just as you will not let anyone take what you have with caleb - not a damn fucking chance.

and so the night ended, his friendship with his best friend being questioned in his head, but you were there once again, telling him that she will always have a place in his heart and that is something that can never be taken away from him.

then his breath hitched as you stepped closer to him, and held his cheeks gently, then you whispered softly, "and i hope you won't let anyone take whatever we have away from us."

then you tipped your toes to reach him and kissed him on the lips.

it took his breath away, and he melted right there, taking your face in his hands as he returned your kiss with a firm, loving one, with a hint of longing and passion, ending it with a playful nip on your lower lip.

"that will never happen," he mumbled hazily against your lips.

and with how he acted in the restaurant in front of his first love? you believed him without a second thought.

and that same night, you sealed the bond wrapped in his arms, accepting his passion and devotion for you until you both collapsed in each other's embrace, both out of breath, but full of love.

"you know that i love you right?" he said breathily, head resting on your bare chest, "i want to make that clear."

"you did," you replied in a loving tone, while you massaged his scalp tenderly, "and you have shown it clearly, made your point and made it clear as the sun."

"and caleb," you spoke again, "i love you too and i dont mind showing it to you over and over again."

he hummed against your skin, satisfied and heart full, finally felt what its like to be chosen, knowing and witnessed how many men admired you and even declared it, yet you still decided to stick with his grumpy ass.

and you? you feel loved and safe. and confident that when the day comes when you'd have to strike down ever, you wont be alone. not anymore.

[makeitworse]

BABY I’M YOURS

who knew that working as an idol’s stylist meant you’d be concealing an affair and the muse for his upcoming album.

⋆˙⟡ ibelongiiu part one 𓂃 c/w: fem!reader x sub!jiyong. fluff | smut. age gap. power imbalance. slowburn. yearning. sneaking around. (not-so) casual relationship. nsfw content minors dni

since the first time you met, ji-yong held a certain fondness for you. you were a fresh face in his staff, joining at the start of the year through connections with his long-term stylist gee eun.

she’d scouted your talent and personally requested you to work with her team— despite your lack of formal experience in the star-studded world of idols.

and you managed to hold your own while working alongside the stylists who’d been dressing him for decades.

it was such a drastic leap from your former position as a fashion intern; only in your early twenties, and you were getting paid to curate outfits for the king of kpop’s public appearances.

you were well aware of how volatile this industry could be. ji-yong’s december scandal was proof of it. you had tunnel vision on your career: you didn’t need attention or to climb in status. you just wanted to do your job and do it well.

which, ironically, is what caught ji-yong’s eye.

from your first day you radiated an air of confidence. you had something special to land you here and you knew it.

you were easy to talk to: never trying too hard to impress him, never pushing for attention. simple, mundane conversations with you were a comfort.

you never spoke to him like he was g-dragon, either. you laughed at his stupid jokes. you saved work-talk for later when you noticed he was nodding off. you didn’t hesitate to call him out on being a diva, either; snappy during fittings, picky with outfit options.

(which, admittedly, was often.. but he respects someone who doesn’t shy at telling him off.)

he liked hearing you laugh too. it wasn’t like the polished, practiced laughter he was used to hearing from idols and other public figures— the kind that could come with ulterior motives.

yours was real. unpretentious. your smile was infectious. and yeah, there was the fact that he found you gorgeous.

it wasn’t exactly a revelation; who wouldn’t think the same? that’s all it was, just passing admiration.

at least he told himself so.

until one night, you were invited as part of a handful of staff to accompany ji-yong at a formal dinner.

ji-yong gravitated to the seat next to the one you’d already claimed in the car. and during the trip there, there wasn’t a singular second of a silence.

talking to you felt so natural. your humour bounced off each other’s, topics and stories flowed from one to the other. he almost wished the car wouldn’t reach its destination if it meant he could learn everything there is to know about you.

but inevitably it did. he turned to you as he adjusted his blazer, asking in a playful tone if he looked good enough for the cameras.

you beamed that smile at him; hand reaching out to straighten his tie, smoothen the lapel. but then your face drops with a frown.

ji-yong’s breath catches in his throat before he can ask what was wrong— as you reach up and lightly thread your fingers through the front of his hair, fixing a stray strand that had fallen over his forehead.

you tucked it back into place while absentmindedly biting your lip in concentration, completely unfazed by the fact you were touching him so casually, so intimately.

and then you were gone.

the door opened on your side, and you moved on like it was nothing. you’d taken his breath with him. ji-yong sat there for a second too long, the crowd outside hollering for him to step outside.

what the hell just happened?

it’s not like he hasn’t been touched before. he’s got people fussing over him every day— hands all over his body from stylist’s fixing up his clothes and hair, dabbing make-up at his face. it was routine.

but that? that was all you. you didn’t do it because it was part of your job. sure, this was a work-related event, but this car ride had been a conversation purely between you and him. and you’d touched him so softly, without hesitation, like it was second nature to be that close.

and god, he was thinking about it too much.

ji-yong caught himself staring at you from across the sidewalk, watching you laugh at something gee eun said; wondering to himself why you suddenly have his full attention.

from then on, it was excuses in order to be around you— requesting you specifically for fittings, revolving around you during breaks, asking you questions he could easily ask the other stylists.

the rest of the team joke that he has an obvious favourite. and instead of denying it, he laughs it off. no one’s taking it too seriously of course; he’s been in the public eye long enough to learn that dating a girl means putting a spotlight on her.

but it lingers in his mind.

he’s old enough to know better. he should know better. you work under him, and you’re young— what was it, over a decade apart from him?

there’s power dynamics, a scandal waiting to happen, his career to consider. and you of course; whether he was reading too far into your affections. you had a smart head on your shoulders, you wouldn’t cross that line with your boss. he had to stop waiting for that day to come.

you had him slipping back into the mindset of his twenties, convinced his image could win over any woman— which was really a front for how deep he’d fall himself. he’s always been a hopeless romantic. he’s cultivated a career by writing songs about it.

ji-yong thought distance would help.

he told himself it was better this way— extinguish his budding feelings before it turned dangerous. before someone really noticed.

before he acted on them.

at first, you didn’t notice the shift. he’s still himself; still smooth, still teasing, still carrying that effortless charm that people gravitate toward.

it starts small. he no longer snapped his head when he’d hear your voice. he no longer looked for your reaction first when he said a joke. he longer watched your reflection in the mirror, averting his gaze as you glance up, thinking you didn’t catch him.

you caught the way his jaw hardened as you adjusted his collar, and as your hands moved to his torso, his arms stayed rigid as his sides.

he doesn’t make it obvious. but he can tell you picked up on it. where there’d usually be playful teasing and light touches, was just an air of suffocating silence as you fixed up his shirt.

and now you’re looking at him differently. he hadn’t realised how much he missed the way you used to. there’s the faintest uncertainty in your movements, like you’re wondering if you’ve done something wrong. it makes his chest tighten.

you almost asked, why do you look at me like that?

for a week, he’d been dodging eye contact, keeping sentences curt and around you only when necessary. the easy rhythm you’d fallen into was gone, replaced by something unfamiliar that stung.

whatever was happening before, if it was anything, could still be found in his eyes. traces of his affections in the way that he looked at you; which he made an effort to keep to a minimum.

you had no reason to ask, though. he’s your boss. he’s an idol. you’ve no right to expectations for him.

so you swallow down the lump in your throat. the questions burning on your tongue— because what would it matter if he fancied you anyways? it’s not like you’d actually be together. you felt like a schoolgirl.

it’s been a long day, longer than most. he’s exhausted, drained from a packed schedule, and the weight of his own shame hanging over his shoulders.

he’s been irritable all day. snappy with the staff. you barely even glance in his direction anymore. his manager has to pull him to the side to check on him.

then something happens.

a tug at his waist— a sharp snap— and suddenly, his belt is loose, his pants hanging off his hips. the staff near him scramble for a fix; but then you’re there. rushing over, pulling your sleeves up to your elbows.

“i’ve got it,” you murmur. all focus.

you’re close. closer than you’ve been in weeks. your hands are on him without hesitation. the warmth of your touch, the scent of your perfume— it all floods back at once.

ji-yong swallows as you grab the hem of his pants, his jaw tight. he should look away, but he doesn’t. can’t. instead, he’s watching you thread the belt back through the loops; your furrowed brows, your lips softly between your teeth, completely oblivious to what you’re stirring in him.

once you buckle the belt back into place, you check it with a tug, and glance up at ji-yong. your eyes meet.

it was only an instant before you were gone again, but it’s enough. because he realises how much he missed you— in the wedge that he forced between you.

and above all, how wrong it was to treat you like just another member of the staff when you were anything but.

he wanted you. and he was done pretending otherwise.

the day had finally wrapped up, and ji-yong bee-lined to the dressing room, finding you humming to yourself by the clothing racks. he hesitates in the doorway before he steps inside.

“oh,” you glanced up. “did you forget something?”

for a second, he doesn’t answer. because yes, he had forgotten something. the warmth of your voice directed at him without uncertainty. how it felt like to talk to you once.

he scrunches his face in thought before shaking his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“nope, just need a breather.”

he ruffles his hair. he’s fidgety, nervous. it’s not lost on you.

you hum in response, turning your attention back to the clothes as you sift through them.

conversation over. he had no reason to linger. but he asks anyway, “you staying late again?”

you shrug. “gee eun’s asked me to organise a few things before tomorrow. you know how she gets.”

he smirks. “they’ll have to start charging you rent soon.”

that earns him a quiet chuckle. it’s familiar.

you continue talking, reflecting on the busy day, and he isn’t listening to the words. not really.

he’s lost in the sight of you. hair falling around your pretty face, all messy from the long day. your hands; delicate, always warm when you’d fix his collar.

how easy it would be to close the distance, to reach for you in the way he’s wanted to.

ji-yongs fingers twitch at his sides. it’s an effort to keep his feet planted there, to nod along.

“—are you even listening?”

“hrm?”

you scoff, your arms crossing.

“what did i just say?”

you watch his feet shuffle, his hand planting in his hair again. the weight of your gaze on him is heavy.

“ah, i haven’t seen that one before.”

ji-yong points at an outfit hanging on the rack to divert the topic. he steps forward, inspecting it when he knows damn well he’s already seen it. but now he’s moving, closing the space between you, and you don’t budge.

you raise a brow. “we used it for an interview earlier this year.”

“really? has it been tailored since?” he reaches out to touch the fabric, like he could give a damn about it. he barely even looks at it. but you are.

“like it needs that.” you adjust the sleeve, replying absently: “you looked great.”

he huffs a laugh. it’s shy, uncertain. he gets nothing but praise all the time, yet he still doesn’t know how to receive it.

he should probably say something else. but instead, he turns to you, and you glance up at him.

you’re close. you eye him curiously, before it shifts into understanding. he’s giving you that look again. like you’ve got something he wants. and he’s letting you recognise it.

he spots the faintest smudge of make-up on your cheek from working all day. and before he can stop himself, ji-yong reaches up to wipe it with his thumb.

your breath catches. his hand stills, hovering beside your cheek. neither of you move, feeling the air shift. it’s charged with something unspoken, but undeniable.

ji-yong’s heart drums against his chest like it’s about to give out. he swallows, watching your eyes dart all over his face.

you’re searching for reluctance, regret; but he holds your gaze while looking at you like there’s a million more things he would do.

you let go of the clothing and bring your hand to his one at your cheek. you close your fingers around the back of his hand, holding it.

“that’s a bad idea.”

he felt like his fingertips were charged with electricity. his body was buzzing with heat. slowly, gauging your reaction, he moves his palm to your face.

you don’t oppose— instead, you lean into his touch as he cradles your cheek.

“i know.” he mutters.

ji-yong’s thumb softly wipes over your skin, and you sigh. that noise stirs something in him.

”you should probably go.”

your hand trails down his wrist and over his arm. he watches with bated breath as your fingertips drag over his chest, stopping to feather over his throat.

“you might do something you’ll regret.”

you felt his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. breathlessly he says, “i wouldn’t.”

you dare to raise your hand to his face, ghosting your touch near his mouth. ji-yong responds by shifting his thumb to your chin, gently tilting your head for him.

for a beat, you let your breaths mingle as you stare at one another. you’re both asking: are we really doing this?

his gaze flickers to your lips and he sighs. you decide then that yes: we’re really doing this.

uncertainty gone, you lean forward to press your lips on his. they’re soft. you hear him suck in a breath through his nose, before he deepens the kiss by parting your mouth open with his own.

both his hands cradle your face, holding you like you’re precious. you pull him closer by his jacket, his body pressing into yours. you’re leaning into him, even letting little noises slip between the open-mouthed kisses.

it gets him hot. his tongue swipes over your bottom lip, asking for permission; when you hum in response, the warmth of his tongue slides into your mouth.

his hands come to rest on your waist, pulling your body further into his, feeling the curves of your chest press into him.

in turn, you felt his excitement digging into your hip. your head was whirling. this was a fucking celebrity, and you’re turning him on?

for a moment you’re both standing there, trading hot tongue kisses, letting your hands roam wild over each other.

ji-yong steps forward, guiding you to walk with him. he backs you into a nearby table.

you pull away, committing the sight before you to memory: ji-yong’s hair tousled, panting with his cheeks tinged red. his gaze charged with everything he’d do to you.

just as his hands come to your hamstrings to raise you onto the table, a distant voice from outside the door has you scrambling away from each other.

you position yourself back at the racks, with ji-yong pulling out his phone. someone walks past the room, glancing in to shoot you both a smile.

disaster averted.

but it was too close of a call. you shake your head at yourself, resting your palm on your forehead. what were you thinking, doing that with the door open?

you glance at ji-yong, pursing your lips. he gets the idea.

he nods, bowing his head as he turns to leave.

“ji-yong?”

he stops to look at you, and you beam a soft smile at him. an acknowledgment of what you two did: that it was real.

he smiles in kind, before you trade bows and he leaves you to get back to your work.

it’s not going to be the last time anyway.

ji-yong was being unbearable.

not outright, of course. just in the way that only you would pick up on.

he found you when the day started, approaching you in front of the styling team with a sly grin plastered on his face. he walked past you, brushing closer than was necessary— and he sneaked a hand out to pinch your waist.

you jumped, eyes darting up around the room. thankfully everyone’s too busy with their own tasks to take notice. you glanced back at ji-yong as he leaves, and he’s barely containing a giggle. asshole.

as the hours stretched on, he’d dare to steal fleeting touches: placing his palm on your back, brushing his fingers over your arm. ji-yong was too impatient for the day’s work to end. you still had to pick up from where your previous encounter left off.

once there were calls for a lunch break— you had locked eyes from across the room. you caught his lip twitch into a smirk briefly. while the other staff began to disperse, you continued your task of stitching up an accessory, biding for ji-yong to make his way over.

a gentle hand on your shoulder made your head turn, met with ji-yong’s face low at your ear.

“come with me?”

you exhale, turning your attention back to the needle. “what about my lunch?”

“i can arrange something for you after.”

you glance at ji-yong with a brow raised. he returns a boyish grin. his finger reaches up, twirling a stray strand of your hair.

you almost reply dryly again, but your words catch as ji-yong leans in, his breath fanning your lips. he extended his arm out, sliding the accessory from your hand and closing his own around your palm.

you suppress the urge to roll your eyes. you did still work under him, despite the tonsil hockey and all. he was just being so damn needy.

“alright.” you stood from your workbench, letting ji-yong pull your chair out and guide you by the hand. he had to drop it before you left the room together, but not before placing a kiss on your hand.

you followed ji-yong through the hallways. everyone was off on break elsewhere, but your heart was still beating in your throat. you were conjuring up excuses in the event that someone catches you— then ji-yong flashes you a soft smile.

he opens the door to an empty dressing room, offering you his palm to guide you in before him.

you take notice of a table against the wall, just before you hear the click of the door locking behind ji-yong.

now that you were actually here, you felt almost faint. it was so surreal. you worked here, and you were sneaking around. with the boss. a fucking idol.

and he led you here. because he wants you.

ji-yong’s hand finds your hip from behind. goosebumps bloom across your skin as he inhales at your hair behind your ear, breathing in your scent. his head leans forward, pressing a kiss to your temple.

his mouth trails down to your neck, hand softly roaming over your tummy, careful to not move further.

his name slips from you breathlessly, and he hums in response.

“we shouldn’t be long.”

you crane your head to him, and his palm comes to rest on your jaw. his gaze is unflinching from your lips.

“then i’ll make the most of it.”

there’s no hesitation this time as you both move to kiss each other. ji-yong gently spins you so you’re facing him, then pulling you in by the waist.

you’re both quick to part each other’s lips, your tongues pressing together as you tasted your shared breath. ji-yong was panting into the kisses, his fingers twitching to move from your back.

you bring your hands to cradle his face, briefly pulling away from the kiss to utter: “touch me.”

and he obeyed: sliding his hands with a newfound confidence till they reached the underside of your thighs, grabbing at the flesh.

your own hands tangled in his bright hair, pressing your hips into him— eliciting a hiss from ji-yong as his dick dug into your heat.

greed was rising in you. he’d been working you up all day, daring to show everyone just how close you two had gotten. you decide you’ll give him just what he’s been provoking.

ji-yong’s mouth breaks from yours in a groan as you slide your hand between your bodies to close your palm around his erection. he was hot in your hand, and a sight to behold: eyes screwed shut and his lips parted with a pant.

your hand inched upwards to rub at him, and his mouth came crashing onto yours again. you gasped as he squeezed your ass, nearly lifting you up as he guided you to walk back.

you get the idea— he wants to continue what he didn’t get to do yesterday.

you find your footing, kissing him fervently till you come in contact with the table’s edge. you hoist yourself up to sit on it, and ji-yong’s between your legs in an instant.

you pull him impossibly closer by his collar, and his groan rumbles in your throat as you roll your hips against him.

ji-yong’s mouth found purchase on your neck, and you hummed when he sucked on the skin.

time was ticking. you fumbled for his waistband, eager to unbuckle his belt, but he stopped you by the wrist.

you could’ve cussed him out— but he shot you a dark-eyed glance, his lip curled at the corner.

your mouth fell open as ji-yong dropped to his knees.

conveniently for him, you’d decided to wear a dress today. he pushed the skirt up your thighs, his lips parting in a pant when he noticed the damp spot in your panties.

he pulled them to the side, and you shuddered when he pressed a kiss to your bare cunt.

you steadied yourself with a hand in his hair as his head bobbed with kitten licks to your clit. he kept a palm on your thigh to keep your legs open, with the fingers of his other hand prodding at your core.

ji-yong ate you out like he was fucking starving. the noise of his own groans as he lapped at you vibrated against your clit. and when he finally slid his fingers in to curl up into you, you saw fucking stars.

it was only a few minutes before you came on his fingers, thighs threatening to clamp around his head. he kept his mouth latched onto you, sucking your clit through your orgasm.

he teased you with a swipe of his tongue over you, freshly sensitive. you swatted his head and he chuckled.

ji-yong was already lifting you off the table and ushering you out of the room just as you were asking to return the favour.

he replied that there wasn’t enough time, he still needed to organise lunch for you.

he let you leave the room first to find a bathroom, and you giggled as you flashed one last look at him: standing there with a (what would’ve been painfully hard) tent in his pants. his head dipped with a shy smile as the door shut.

after that, between you was an arrangement without a name. an affair that hadn’t yet been spoken into existence.

carefully coordinated encounters, stolen moments in the quiet corners of studios, which quickly progressed to meetings in parking lots and nights spent in hotel beds.

you’ve perfected the art of slipping away without raising suspicion, and he’s able to keep a straight face when someone asks where he’s been lately.

the team still believe it’s just a fleeting crush. it’s impossible to suppress his instinct to gravitate towards you, to gaze at you for far too long. it’s just something the stylists laugh at between themselves— they don’t he’d actually cross that line.

but he was far past that point. and he was down bad.

it’s in the way he can’t stop thinking of you when you’re not around. the way he’s memorised your little quirks when you’re working, how you bite your lip in concentration and hum absently.

the way he shifts his schedule around to better align with yours, just for the chance of more encounters in the shadows. the way he spent money on you like it meant nothing; treating you to meals and adorning you with jewellery, as much as you’d refuse.

but worst of all, it was in the music.

late at night, when he’s drafting songs for the album, the pen spills out lyrics that with your name written all over them.

his infatuation, his reluctance; his complete and utter devotion. him practically begging you to want to be with him.

the album was almost dangerously raw. when anyone close to him listens, they’ll start to wonder. because it’s not just a crush. ji-yong’s heart was yours.

truth was, he was falling in love. and he couldn’t tell a soul who you were.

you accompanied ji-yong to a photoshoot with elle magazine. the hours you’d been here have had no end of ji-yong attempting to whisk you away, sneak a kiss or two behind a corner.

you knew how he gets. ji-yong gets too excited for his own good; he couldn’t afford to get a boner when he has to pose up for the camera, or god forbid leak pre-cum into the trousers.

but it’d been a while since his schedule had an opening to spend time alone with you. he was restless today: groping you in the dressing room, stealing pecks on your face. you caught him staring at your chest in front of the other stylists, head dipped and all— and you nearly slapped him until you remembered he’s still g-dragon.

he’d catch your eye an alarming amount when he’d get into position for the pictures, almost as if he’s checking for your approval. it got to the point that you forced yourself to get busy with something else, in case someone starts to wonder why he keeps glancing in your direction.

the day was nearing its end. ji-yong was dressed in the last outfit prepared for him. you were skimming over any creases, straightening up his collar like you’d always do.

you spared him a smile and complimented him under your breath, low enough that the other stylists didn’t pay any mind.

but it only egged ji-yong on. temptation gets the better of him, and he leans forward on his toes like he’s about to kiss you— right there in front of everyone.

you freeze up as his nose nudges yours. it’s enough to have your heart drumming. it takes everything in you to calmly step away, not check to see if anyone saw.

and then someone’s calling his name for the next round of photos. he spares you a wink before he jogs off. you make a mental note to have no mercy the next time you fuck.

tonight was at long last a rare chance for ji-yong to spend the night with you. there’d been a cancellation in his plans, and he didn’t waste another moment in shooting you a message. all of your errands then became futile.

you had a singular foot in the door of his apartment before he launched himself at you. you felt zoa brush against your leg; he’s been telling you how much she’s missed you.

if only you could pet her, since ji-yong’s already practically ripping your clothes off.

you hadn’t forgotten his stunt at the elle photoshoot. you had straddled ji-yong on the couch, riding him till he was a whining mess. you only stopped after your second orgasm, and he was a shell of a man by the end of it. careful what you wish for.

freshly showered, you were both curled up in his sheets, your head resting on his chest. you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the rise and fall of his body with each breath. ji-yong was drawing lazy circles on your arm, his eyes glossed over while his mind was in a distant place.

you could spend forever looking at that face without getting bored. there’s a reason he’s as famous as he is. he’s stunning, and he was all yours.

“what’re you thinking?” you murmured.

ji-yong’s quiet for a beat. then, his finger stills against your skin. “how much i hate hiding this.”

your heart skips a beat. there it was.

you shift, tilting your head to look at him. he tries to keep his face composed, but his eyes— warm, searching— give him away.

“you know why we have to.” you say carefully.

“i know,” he sighs, tightening his hold around you. “but that doesn’t mean i like it.”

his words settle between you two for a moment.

you knew this was coming. you’d been prolonging the day, dodging his attempts to ask what you both were, if you’d told anyone about him.

the thought’s lingered in your mind too of course. he’d charmed you; you adored him. maybe in another setting, where you were both on equal footing, it’d feel okay. but outside of these walls, you were just a stylist for g-dragon. and anything more than that being made public would blow up in your faces.

you could tell how much secrecy weighed him down. he wanted to show you off, to brag about you. be proud about his girl.

and you’re not sure you could give him that.

but tonight, you don’t say that.

instead, you bury your head in the crook of his neck and softly kiss his jaw.

“i’m here.” you whisper.

for now it’s enough.

but the way ji-yong presses a kiss to your hair, exhaling deeply: you can tell that this conversation wasn’t over. not tonight anyways.

a/n: thank you for reading! i’ve had so much inspiration for gd, i decided to just compile all my ideas into a series. this part serves as the calm before the shitstorm. i already have the next parts planned out, but i’m taking my time with writing to ensure a cohesive story. i hope to see you there in the next one! ♡

taglist ⟢ @breakmeoff @emmiesoverthemoon @lightinbug @sherrayyyyy @ferrarifinnick @jennierubyjem @namsgyu

@aokism @kandixcx @famouskoalastudent @ctrldivinev @myn4mgyu @aizshallnotbefound @astralruem @siideros @myst3rionn @aanaritt @lowkeyylaura @emmyf1 @comitzsiren @puddingknows @btwimmel @hrtswon @ufoev3 @drwholuvr @bambambwi @bloody-kissez @amoondragon @bfiechso @renjunniehavenn @1tsnotgab1 @cannotdriveinastraightline @numeroun01 @nirvanainmypants @zcmda @siriusly-rem-writes @jajabro @leagueofvillainsenthusiest @enhypj @eclips-moon @multiple-fandom @kjydrgnnnn @gdgirl21 @inhogf @namelesswoah fucking hell there’s alot of you

[petertingle-yipyip]

ALWAYS BEEN YOU - KAZ BREKKER

//follow-up to this (for context, really) but can be standalone// also @darker0moon221b asked for this//

Pairing: kaz brekker x reader

Word Count: 3,146

Summary: On the heels of a rough night and unbelievable confessions, Y/N still has to make sure Kaz is alright. What comes after is… shocking.

“I loved you first.”

“What?” Your head snapped up and your hands around the kit tightened till your knuckles were white. “You don’t mean that.” You laughed nervously.

Kaz didn’t waiver in his eye contact, dark eyes boring into yours. You shifted slightly under his gaze but he didn’t speak. Even when you rose to your feet, he didn’t look away, didn’t say a word. He just watched you intently, like if he looked away you would vanish.

Those four seemingly simple words bounced around your skull. You tried to imagine what his expression was when he said them, but you couldn’t. There was no way for you to know what he was thinking. That cursed unreadable expression crossed his features and you would’ve given anything for any of his other looks. That near smile that only you seemed to get or even his widely recognized scheming face.

“I loved you first.”

You had imagined it, right? He gave you nothing to think otherwise. Yes, that’s all it was. A tired brain mixing with a yearning heart to play on your own foolish infatuation. Kaz Brekker was many horrible things and few wonderful. But he was not someone who confessed love. Maybe he didn’t know love. Maybe he didn’t want to. Either way, it wasn’t about you. That much you could convince yourself.

“Okay.” You said finally. You had no idea how much time had passed while your thoughts ran rampant. “Well, make sure you eat and drink something to help with the blood loss. I’d say something with some sugar. Oh! Nina was by earlier, brought some new pie. You might like it.”

“Y/N?” He tried but you pretended not to hear him.

“I’ll come check on it in the morning, if that’s alright. Make sure no infection has set in and you still have your wits.”

“That’s all?”

“Is there anything else?” You cringed slightly at the desperation in your voice.

“You tell me.”

You swallowed the thoughts that threatened to embarrass you further and simply nodded, lips pressed tightly to a line. You moved to grab your fallen book but once your eyes went down, Kaz seemed to know your intention. Of course he did. You immediately stopped when you saw his movements, the stretch of his long yet muscle bound bare limbs.

You also realized he was still shirtless.

You turned on your heel instead and briskly walked out the room. You made sure the door was firmly shut behind you and then you practically ran to your own room. You all but slammed the door and dropped your kit to your desk. You yanked off the remaining glove and pushed your hands into your hair. You let out an uneven breath and tried once more to piece together the night.

You were reading in Kaz’s office. He came in, covered in blood. You cleaned him up and he smiled at you. He said he loved you.

You laughed slightly and then put a hand to your mouth.

“Oh Saints, I’ve gone mad.” You said to yourself. You shook your head and decided to sleep it off.

But your dreams were simply replays of that damn smile.

The next morning, you dragged your feet to get ready. You brushed your hair and teeth, then washed your face leisurely. You knew Kaz was likely already waiting for your promised arrival and he’d have some comment locked and loaded, just itching for an opportunity, but that only made you want to avoid it more. But the deal was the deal.

You tucked a pair of gloves into your pocket and cut a new bandage wrap from your fabric pile before you headed to see him. You greeted the few Dregs that were up at the early hour before you hesitated outside his office.

You tugged on the collar of your shirt, just so you didn’t pat your pocket, and shifted on your feet. You hated the fact that you were dreading something you were good at, simply because you had gotten something you had only dreamed of. And for what? Because you couldn’t believe it? Because you decided to want something so simple from the one person it always seemed so improbable from?

Then again, improbability wasn’t impossibility.

“Why are we staring?” Jesper whispered loudly and you jumped. “It’s just a door.”

“Ha ha.” You said sarcastically and jammed your elbow into his ribs. “And it’s not that I’m staring. I’m stalling, it’s different.”

“Okay… Why are you stalling? Meeting with the boss you don’t wanna deal with?”

“Of a sort.” You nodded. “Do you think…”

“Wylan would say no but I beg to differ.” He shrugged and glanced over with a wide grin. “What’s on your mind?”

You nodded towards Kaz’s door.

“What’d he do this time?” Jesper sighed and his smile fell.

“When he’s come back after having the ever-loving shit kicked out of him, have you ever heard him say anything strange?” You tried to keep it vague. Telling Jesper was just as bad as screaming it across the Barrel. You loved your friend but he was a gossip.

He gasped dramatically, thus confirming your hesitation. “Is there news?”

“Maybe… I’m hopeful, don’t get me wrong, but I also can’t convince myself it happened.”

“Well, what was it?”

“So you can tell all of Ketterdam and get us both in trouble?” You laughed. “No way.”

“Oh, come on!” He tried.

You shook your head with a smile and knocked on the office door. After a second, you could hear the tapping of his cane coming closer. You looked back at Jesper, who was still staring with wide, pleading puppy-dog eyes. The door cracked open so you shot your friend a wink and ducked inside.

“You took your time.” Kaz complained once you shut the door.

“Good morning to you too.” You rolled your eyes, both glad and disappointed to be back to your usual banter. You turned and found him sitting in your chair, cane resting against the arm while he rubbed out his bad leg. “How do you feel?”

He shrugged. You could’ve been mistaken, but he seemed more irritated than usual.

You made a face to yourself and crossed the room. You stopped a few inches from him, not even letting your shoes touch, and leaned in quietly. His eyes went wide for a moment and it almost seemed like he had a forward lean of his own. Your eyes were on the cut of his forehead, checking the length of it once then twice then a third time just for the hell of it.

But even with your focus on the injury, you could see the movement of his own eyes. Darting between yours, following the shape of your jaw, your lips, trailing down your neck.

“That one looks good.” You leaned away and nodded. “You didn't feel any sort of dizziness or sickness after I left?”

He seemed to lose himself in his thoughts before he answered you. You knelt in front of him, nudging his knees apart. The jostle seemed to bring him back to the moment, which caused a new flash of surprise. You wondered for a second if it meant something in your favor or if he was feeling some sort of after effect from the fight.

“Kaz?” You tried waving a hand in front of his face. “Is something wrong?”

He reached out and took your hand in his. You said nothing, but your expression betrayed you. Kaz let out a small chuckle and let himself smile again, smaller than the one that threw you last night but still genuine. Your eyes were wide and soft in awe at the simple contact but coming on the heels of the confessions last night, it had to have some weight.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He said quietly. “Truthfully, Y/N, I worried I had misunderstood you.”

“What?” Your brows furrowed.

“Do you remember what you said last night?”

You winced. “In painful detail, yes.”

He chuckled again and you lost the fight to hide a smile. “I thought about it all night.”

“Really?”

“I wondered if I had misheard you, if I had misread your cues.”

“Hang on.” You cut in, snapping into focus as if you had been hit with cold water. “Cues? I wasn’t giving cues.”

“Really?” He challenged lightly. “Should I list them?”

“Please do, but while you try and embarrass me, unbutton your shirt so I can check your side.”

“Those wide eyes that always find me in a room.” He pointed to your eyes before taking off his gloves to work the buttons. “You ask something specific of me then change it to mean everyone. The way you curl up in this chair and face my desk, pretending to read but you’re looking over your book towards me. Hell, even the way you say my name.”

“That’s… a good list.” You said carefully, admittedly embarrassed. You dropped your eyes and pulled the gloves from your pocket. 

“Do you want to know what really convinced me?”

“Not particularly but I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway.” You confessed with a sigh. Once your gloves were fitted to your hands, you leaned an elbow on his knee and looked back at him.

He leaned in as if to tell you a secret, though it was likely just to free some space while he wriggled out of his shirt sleeves. You wanted to lean in and meet him, finally kiss him, but you knew better. Instead, you forced your eyes to stay on his side. You tried not to let your gaze wander across his muscle-bound, scar-riddled torso.

Focus, Y/N.

You shifted to sit up on your knees and reached in. Your rubber covered fingers met his skin carefully and you gently prodded and pulled on the injury.

“Nothing to say anymore?” You asked lightly, hoping to break the now thick tension.

You dared a glance at his face and his eyes were closed, head leaning against the back of the chair. Your movements froze as you simply looked at him. He almost looked content, so much softer when his eyes were closed. It was small moments like that that made you forget he was the Bastard of the Barrel, Dirtyhands Brekker. He was someone to be feared. Men with any sense wouldn’t dare to cross him. Women with any sense swooned and batted their lashes for his attention. Kids with any sense feared their closets because the monsters come from there.

But to you, especially in those fleeting vulnerable instances, he was just Kaz. And that was always enough for you.

You shook the thought and went back to your examination. You ran your fingers over the length of the wound and frowned when you realized one of the stitches were looser than it should’ve been.

“Were you messing with these last night?” You accused quickly.

“What?” He finally spoke. “No.”

“Dammit.” You cursed and pulled your hands away. You dropped to sit on your heels and blew a sigh while you threw the gloves on the floor in annoyance. “It’s not as tight as I’d like it to be. Must’ve been the gloves.”

“Do you need to fix it?”

You looked over at the discarded gloves and frowned. “More practice is what I need.” You muttered before looking back at Kaz. “It should be okay. It’s clean so as long as you keep it covered, it won’t bleed through your clothes or anything… But it’ll scar for sure now.”

He shrugged. “What’s one more?”

“You never told me what tipped you off.” You said, looping back to the prior conversation.

You knew you should’ve left, let the unspoken thing between you two stay unspoken, but you also knew you needed closure. You needed to know with certainty if your pining was obvious. If you needed to pack up and run from your embarrassment. Maybe Inej would let you join her crew next time she came to port.

He held his hand out to you and you went for it, then hesitated. You kept your hand just out of his reach before closing your fingers to create just a bit more space. The idea of putting your hand in his - his bare hand - was something you had only dreamed about. You heard him make a noise of impatience at your hesitation and he leaned forward again to take your hand in his.

“You’re always careful of my space.” He began carefully. It was a list he knew, something he had drafted and gone over a million times in the past few weeks. Or maybe it was months. It could’ve been years for all Kaz could tell. Everything with you seemed to come together in the best and worst ways. “You’re careful of contact.”

“Because I know you don’t like it.” You shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone seem to avoid you for one reason or another?”

“Well, yes, but you do it to be considerate not because you’re afraid.”

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Kaz took a deep breath and his eyes finally met yours. You could see the war raging behind his eyes. The contact of your hand in his must’ve been driving him insane. You could see his chest rising and falling with deep breaths, like he had to consciously force the air in and out of his lungs. His jaw was tense. Hell, his whole body was wound tight as elastic, ready to snap. To shove you away, to scream at you, to start a fight neither of you would hold back in. But he didn’t. He willed himself to maintain the contact, even when you gave the slightest tug to free your hand.

“No.” He finally spoke. “Never you.”

“What are…” You tried, but the question wouldn’t form. What was he thinking? Why wasn’t he letting go? Why was he tormenting himself just to hold your hand?

“When I felt your gloves last night, it all made sense.” He explained and the grip on your hand seemed to tighten slightly. “I knew I hadn’t been crazy.”

“I might be.” You said mindlessly and he chuckled.

“We both might be.” He agreed. “But still… You didn’t have to use gloves, but you did, because you wanted to be able to help me. Right?”

“Someone has to.” You tried to sound casual.

“They don’t.” He corrected. “But you want to.”

“Because I care about you, Kaz. You’ve been my friend for years. I’d hate to lose you.”

“Do you love me, Y/N? Truly.”

You swallowed hard, licking your lips to stall. Your free hand twitched and knowing your pockets were empty, you tugged on your shirt to adjust the fabric. Suddenly, the room felt very warm.

“I…” You began slowly. “You’re still holding my hand.”

“Yes.”

“Without your gloves.”

He let out a shuddering breath. “Yes.”

“And that doesn’t make you want to run?”

“It does.” He answered tightly. “But I don’t want to run from you.”

“You don’t have to do this.” You put your other hand on his knee. “Let go, Kaz.”

“No.”

“Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Because how can I be with the woman I love if I cannot bring myself to touch her?” He answered quickly and your eyes went wide. “If I cannot hold her hand or touch her face, her lips… If I cannot bring myself to hold her, what kind of love is that?”

“If she truly loves you, she’ll bear it.” You offered. 

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“Me?”

“Yes.” His expression shifted slightly to relief. “Yes, you, Y/N. It’s always been you.”

“So I didn’t imagine it last night? You said you loved me first.”

“Truthfully, I was worried I had imagined it all. But I couldn’t stop thinking about those damned gloves and how I wanted to feel your touch without them… Just be honest with me, Y/N. Do you want this?”

“Of course I do.” You said without thinking. “But I can’t ask you to torture yourself just to be with me.”

“You’re always so gentle.” He spoke softly, admiringly even, and it made you blush. “You don’t have to be so with me. I can take it.”

“And you shouldn’t have to.” You managed to wiggle your hand free and you watched his chest rise and fall with a heavy sigh of relief. “I do love you, Kaz, in a way that scares me. But I won’t be the reason you force yourself to do something you can’t.”

You stood and reached for the book you left the night before.

“No one forces me, Y/N.” He stood in front of, one small step to block your reach. “I want to do this for you.”

“Don’t make me move you.”

“You wouldn’t push a cripple without his cane, would you?” He feigned innocence.

“I’m serious, Brekker. Let me get my book so I can go and you can think this through.”

“I’ve spent weeks thinking it through.” He shook his head. “I want to try. For you, yes, but also myself… I want to hold you and kiss you and touch you for myself.”

“If I give in and if I’m with you.” You said firmly, pointing your finger near his face. “We need to be very open about limits. I won’t push and I expect you to stop when you need to.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted sarcastically and you had to refrain from kicking him in the shin. “Anything else?”

“You need to give me your word, Kaz.”

“Don’t trust me?” He raised a brow.

“I trust you with my life you buffoon.” You rolled your eyes with a small smile. “But I need to know you’ll commit yourself to what I’m asking.”

“Y/N, darling. I give you my word, on any and all Saints you want to invoke, that I will take that time I need so long as you’ll let me.”

“Good.” You nodded. You thought if there was anything else you could or should have him agree to. Your mind was blank so you shoved your hands into your pockets. “I suppose that means we’re together now.”

He grinned and you couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Finally.” He said and you could tell he was truly happy. “Can I kiss you?”He took a step closer.

You freed a hand and gingerly brushed your fingers along his temple, sneaking into his hair for a second. He gasped but you noticed he didn’t flinch. Feather-light, your touch went along the angle of his jaw and danced down his neck, curved with his shoulder, and skimmed his arm until you reached his hand. He interlaced his fingers with yours and you felt his other hand under your chin, tilting your head back.

“If you’re sure you can bear it.” You said quietly.

[marsmaximoff]

🪩; club pentagon 𖦹₊⋆☾

content warning: ‘long haired’ fem!reader. suggestive. drugs, alcohol.

word count: 1.4k 💜

author’s note: y’all idk what’s happening to me. like i swear when i watched the show i didn’t care about him. in fact i didn’t even like him. and now i can’t stop thinking about his hot face and hands 😔 expect more fics to come cause i’m going crazy. btw, i apologize for the possible mistakes as english is my third language. enjoy <3!

divider by @strangergraphics <3

the colorful lights create a shiny veil over the club. the music reverberating throughout the place, accompanied by loud, excited screams and intoxicated voices, acts as a barrier to the real world.

while i wait for my friend to come back from the bathroom, a guy catches my eye, separated from the rest, in a corner. he must be around my age, a bit older. and i don’t know what it is exactly, but something immediately lures me in. something about his aura, his vibe.... maybe it’s the dark hair, or the tattoos on his arm, the way he’s talking to the man next to him like he’s important... 

he looks hot. and like a total dick too. 

“you like him?” your friend inquires cheekily, noticing your stare. “i haven’t seen him before.” you don’t forget someone like him. his tall frame and dark clothes adding to the arousing pull i’m feeling. “he’s the reason we’re here. i found the club through him; he promotes it.” “do you know him?” there’s a growing curiosity inside of me, to know more, “not at all”, to get closer. “he looks like a playboy,” she declares, to which i can only agree. “an attractive one, tho.”

on cue, as if he had heard us -impossible given the distance- he takes his eyes from that man and locks his gaze on mine, sending a flutter through my stomach. but i don’t shy away, seeing his eyes go down my body, checking me out, unashamedly. a hussy grin accompanies the action while i keep the intense eye contact going for some time before turning around and heading back to the dance floor. as i do, i feel his gaze slide over my body and smile to myself, satisfied, trying to sensualize my walk a bit.

the night continues as usual: drinks, dancing, some flirting here and there, all that still carrying a boost of confidence from that previous interaction. 

eventually, i take a break sitting by the counter, and almost in no time, a smell of cigarettes, alcohol, and something else surrounds me. 

“hey” he speaks with confidence and a certain ego; the grin is back where it had been before. he leans on the bar and studies me, daringly, carefully. that seems to fuel my boldness, because my hand moves almost instantly towards his face, slowly. he doesn’t back away or stop me; he doesn’t even flinch. i gather the remaining white powder from the warm skin right over his upper lip with a finger and lower it, showing it to him. “oops, my bad,” he says playfully while grabbing my wrist. then, he brings it to his mouth and licks it off my fingertip without one of us breaking eye contact for a single second. holy. fuck. afterwards, he laughs softly, my heart rate going crazy, “want some? i only have the best.” i shake my head, choosing to keep my drifting lucidity. 

my gaze travels down his body until reaching his tattooed arm. “you like ‘em?” “i dont see many people around who have them” “yeah…bunch of pussies. these didnt hurt at all, you know.” the smugness of his words an obvious sign of his eagerness to impress. “you got more?” “oohh, someone’s interested…” i scoff finding his teasing annoying, yet unable to deny the way i have to press my lips together to hold back a smile. “i love tattoos” “yeah? wanna touch?” his comments come off so nonchalantly, flirting a natural habit of his. “i mean, you've already gone for my mouth...” his voice lowers a bit, having the clearly much-expected effect on me, and i give in, my yearning taking my fingers to his arm. the smooth and steamy flesh welcomes me with a satisfying shiver, and the hitch of his breath makes me slow down, caressing softly, seductively. 

i don't know if he's trying to contain himself, or enjoying it too much, but i see him biting his lip, and it feels so good to find a tiny crack in his confident facade, the growing heat in my belly seconding it. the initial trace of ink becomes a search of his now more prominent veins, up and down. “i like how it looks.” i give him a final graze, but this time it’s my hand that strokes his arm all the way down his slender, ring-adorned fingers which i hold and toy with before letting go to replace them with my drink, leaving him all greedy for more. his skin on fire. 

he’s affected now, trying to break the spell, attempting to somehow regain control while his breathing’s all over the place. cute. 

the drink sugars my senses, but it’s not nearly as sweet as the feel of him. 

“you like the club?” he goes back to his usual self, his comfort zone, something he can proudly show off. “yeah, i like the ambience”  “i can show you around…this place’s my second home.” i know what he's doing, using an excuse to move this somewhere quieter, more private, more comfortable…. but i decide to play a bit with him. “i don’t know… i'm really enjoying this area.” he smirks, “and it only gets better, we don't leave the best within reach of just anyone”, getting closer. “so you’re saying you'll make it worth my time?” he pokes his cheek with his tongue, turning me on even more. fucking tease. “in fact you'll regret it if you don't come.”  “mmm…im not sure…maybe i need a preview….” his face is mere millimeters from mine, giving me a perfect view of the mischievous look that takes over his. then, he grabs a small bag from his pocket -more white powder- and pushes my hair away from my shoulder, the contact leaving goosebumps everywhere. when the bareness pleases him, an unfamiliar feeling covers my skin. and then i realize, he’s pouring it on me. jesus christ. he leaves a shivery trail up to my neck, molding it to get a perfect line. his hot breath is getting me dizzy, his hand enveloping the other side of my neck, his allure a dangerous mix with the alcohol. he snorts the line in one, the tip of his nose tickling my burning skin. “yesss, shit baby”, he groans huskily underneath my ear, adding a bit of pressure with his hand, and i feel my wetness starting to become uncomfortable. 

he’s laughing when he pulls back, “how’s that for a preview?”, finishing rubbing the remains of his nose. but i can only focus on his fingers, fuck. i need more. “not bad” i try so hard to think of something witty, flirty, to keep the back and forth going, but i can’t. my brain is foggy, my body is flaming, and my belly is killing me with all those damn backflips. “not bad? that’s not nice of you….imma have to do something about that attitude of yours…” i stand up from the stool, suddenly desperate to get out of there. “maybe i do need that tour, a change from the loud music and everything” god i’ve truly become pathetic. and it seems to amuse him, “yeah? i thought you liked the ambience here….” “and i thought you said you’d make it worth my time” i make him smirk again, what a damn sight, and before i know it he’s taking me who knows where.

the moment the door closes behind us, my back is pushed to the wall, his arms caging me. this time, his eyes stay on my lips while he bites his. “fuck, you’re so hot” i can’t hold it anymore. the praise gets to him and makes him snap, harshly pressing our mouths together. the kiss is rough, desperate, as if we were running out of time. i let out a muffled moan as he brings me closer to his warm body and slides one hand towards my neck, adding some pressure. i’ve never had such a messy, intense kiss before, it makes my legs weak. he keeps asserting dominance the whole time, and bites my lip before pulling back and heading towards my neck. 

my moans get louder as i feel him leaving hickeys all over my skin. “it’s namgyu”, he corrects me, hovering over my flesh. but the blood is already pounding in my ears. “huh?” 

 “i want you to know what to moan”

[scarletemeterio]

Jinx x fem reader first kiss leads to make out pleasee

Coming clean (Jinx x reader)

Warnings: suggestive.

Genre: slight hurt/comfort, suggestive

Word count: 1.1k

Reader has no set pronouns!

You and Jinx had been yearning for each other for a while now, it was evident to anyone who saw you two interact. 

You’d met in Zaun, when you were trying to catch up with a little girl that was being chased by some men. You lost track of the girl for a bit, and when you finally found her you saw her with someone else, both sat on the ground. 

You knew who she was -everyone did- but you’d never actually seen her before, and you honestly didn’t think you ever would. But there you were, and there she was. Jinx; right in front of you. She was prettier than you’d imagined, beautiful even, despite her tired and sad eyes.

“She a friend of yours?” You heard her. You made eye contact with the kid and she smiled at you.

“Actually, no,” you began saying. “I just saw her being chased and wanted to help her.”

You noticed that the little girl kept looking back and forth between the posters hanging on the wall and the blue-haired girl in front of her.

“Yep, that’s me. You ever need to curse a sibling or a family or a society… my card.” After that, she left, leaving you and the young thing alone, who insisted you on following Jinx.

And with that, your life changed forever. You’d found a family of your own, they were a light amongst all the darkness that invaded the world.

From the very beginning you were attracted to Jinx, how couldn’t you, really? With every passing day, it seemed like she was being brought back to life, and soon that anguished girl you first met was pretty much gone. Your relationship became stronger in time, and in you she found someone she could rely on; so she started opening up, letting you in when things troubled her and she needed a clear mind.

It wasn’t long until she fell for you, pretty evident to anyone, especially Sevika. She never said a thing, but would always give suggestive looks to both of you, which you disregarded and interpreted as her just messing around. 

However, when you laid alone at night, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander, and it always ended up fixed on someone, a certain girl who always wore her hair in two long braids. At first, you tried to ignore those feelings growing inside of you, but it was beginning to be more difficult every day, especially when all you wanted to do was kiss her every time you saw her.

She’d noticed you were acting strange all of a sudden. You’d get jumpy when she was around or you’d trip over your words whenever you spoke to her. Had she done something wrong? Were you offended by something? Soon, doubts filled her head. Instead of letting them cloud her judgement, she decided to vocalize what was worrying her. She just wanted things to be good between you two.

It was a quiet day; Isha had gone outside to wander around, and Jinx found you in her hideout. She knew it was now or never, she needed answers and most importantly, she needed you close to her.

“Hey, there you are. I’ve been meaning to speak with you.” Your heart sank just a little bit, already beginning to feel anxious about what she could possibly say. “Are we…okay?” 

Her question caught you by surprise, not imagining that those words would be the ones to come out of her mouth. You’d assumed the worst, her kicking you out for acting weird around her, for having feelings for her and not knowing how to handle them. “I- Of course, why wouldn’t we be?”

“You’ve been acting strange,” she responded. “Did I do something to upset you?” She asked in a sad tone, and you couldn’t help but look at her, and realised that tears were forming in her eyes. You quickly ran to her and cupped her face in your hands.

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you reassured her.

“You’ve been so distant lately, keeping me at arm's length and I just have no idea why,” she adverted your gaze, ashamed even of the tears that were now running down her cheeks. “I just- I don't want us to change, tell me what I can do to fix things.”

“It’s not you, Jinx, I swear.” You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before finally voicing what was troubling you. “I like you, as more than just a friend and I really tried to make those feelings go away so things wouldn’t be awkward between us, and in doing that things did end up being awkward. I didn’t know what to do because I don’t want you to feel weird around me and-.”

You were cut off by her lips against yours, catching you by surprise. She quickly pulled apart to get some air and looked at you with a playful look. “You talk too much.” And with that, her lips were back on yours, and her hands were on your body, as yours were on hers.

The kiss was desperate and passionate. Your hands were on her waist and hers were on your neck, pulling you so close to her that you could practically merge together. She was taller than you, not by much, but right now she seemed to tower over you and you could practically hear your heart beating in your chest.

Things escalated quickly, she pushed you to her desk and you sat down on top of it, with the girl standing between your legs. Soon her lips were on your jaw, going down your neck and back again to your mouth; her hands exploring your legs, your chest, your back, everywhere. She rested her hands on your thighs, squeezing them at times, paying attention to your neck once more. You couldn’t help but let out a little moan at her actions, pulling her closer.

Adrenaline and excitement were taking over you, feeling your body on fire every time she touched you and wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever. But soon, you were interrupted. 

You practically jumped when you heard Sevika come in, not giving you any time to even think about pretending to do something else. She looked at the state of the two of you, cheeks flushed, parted lips, and messy clothes. She smirked before speaking, “Just came here to look for something but I guess I’ll just come back later.”

You and Jinx looked at each other and smiled nervously, looking at the woman just a few meters away from you. “I’ll leave you both to it,” she said before walking away, leaving you both alone once again.

“I guess it goes without saying that I like you too,” Jinx said.

i really liked this request, i love writing for jinx ☺️

You simply smiled and pulled her close once again.

thank u anon for the request, hope you liked it!

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Spoiled Brat {pt.2}

Remus Lupin x Gaunt!Reader

Summary: Remus and the reader reunite, but it doesn't go as well as either had hoped. Remus finds himself dealing with an evolution in his furry problem. (There will be a part 3- I'm sorry)

WC: 4895

Warnings: Not proof read. Sexual themes and references, this one is mostly angst and yearning, use of {Y/N}, fem reader, self doubt- let me know if I missed anything!}

Part one

You had no idea where you were going. Not that you would know if you had thought about it, you didn't have a clue about this damn school. You turned every corner and kept pushing through the sharp pain in your calves.

Your mind was racing. What the hell!? Why was he here!?

You turned another corner and ended up in just an empty corridor again. Eventually, you gave in and shoved your way into an empty classroom as you heard his footsteps grow closer. Fuck fuck fuck.

You began to pace. This should have never come home with you. What was he? A muggleborn? You had forgotten that Hogwarts accepts them. Was he a halfblood? No way in hell he was a pureblood, no chances you found someone that similar to you.

During the training over the summer, Mrs. Black made a heavy point of schooling you in infatuation. Well, at least that's what she called it. Longing for someone who you couldn't have. She taught you how to ignore the feelings, how to shove aside such thoughts and remind yourself you had a greater purpose.

You almost felt sorry for her, if she wasn't so vindictive and cruel, she would almost be a sob story.

Though, that was the only thing that helped. She seemed almost.. sympathetic with how taken you were with those lessons. Even a monster can use her heart once in a while. You had used her practice religiously, a rubber band around your wrist, flicked it throughout the day, and if you thought of him, or let your mind wander from your duties, flick it particularly hard.

She seemed to trial off when she noticed just how much you did it. By the dent around her forearm, she knew what she was talking about. What a cruel fix, seemed appropriate for her.

So here you were, pacing, your wrist turned upward and snapping the rubber band repeatedly, not thinking about just how much noise you were making. You were too wound up. You felt like a caged animal, just praying to Merlin that he walked past the classroom and somehow, for the next year, you'd be able to avoid him.

You could never be so lucky.

The door opened with a start and you hissed out at a particularly hard snap of the rubber across your already raw skin. Your eyes locked with a familiar face, you both were frozen. No one dared to move. The sound of his friends running down the hall and gaining on them seemed to catch Remus’s attention. He closed the door quickly behind him and you both held your breath. Listening as his friends all shuffled past the doorway.

Once they got further away, their shouts of Moony’s name fading out, he moved first.

You fumbled for your wand the second they were gone, looking down to your robe pocket and cursing as the colors blended together in your panic, the dark classroom was only illuminated by the moonlight from behind you, you didn't stand a chance. You missed your old uniform. You heard his footsteps, but by the time you looked up his long strides had already covered half the space between you.

You grasped your wand and snatched it from your ruffled uniform, before he grabbed your wrist and took your cheeks with one hand. You pointed your wand to this throat, but his grip on your wrist made you hold it at an odd angle. His thumb dented your cheek and his other turned your wrist. Something that could be seen as aggressive, domineering, but Merlin you knew that touch fondly.

His eyes locked on your panicked ones, he stared into them with so much desperation, your heart was blaring against your chest in a painful way. He moved closer, until his exhales became your inhales. You took a sharp breath in and held it, you could almost taste that familiar tang, chocolate and coffee, just like every night.

Your free hand applied pressure to his shoulder, but you hardly tried. You caved so easily for him.

It wasn't long until his lips were on yours. Your body relaxed on instinct, pressing against his as your wand dropped to the floor. “Mmm…”

He smiled into the kiss and pushed you back until you hit some poor professor's desk. Hand moving from your cheeks to your lower back, taking control as if laying claim to what he was cheated out of over the summer.

Sirius’s words, for once in his life, made sense. You were distracted with Walburga, of course you wouldn't have been able to come over the summer. You didn't hate him. He knew you didn't. It did make him wonder. What was a Gaunt doing hanging around muggle London? It drove him mad, he knew you so intimately, but clearly didn't have a clue who you really were. He wanted to know more than anything, trying to communicate it wordlessly and taking it out on your bruising lips. You gasped when he bit you, and the sharp pain snapped you out of it.

Looking away quickly he took that as a sign you wanted his kisses elsewhere. He found your neck easily, running his teeth along your jugular, bringing that familiar haze to the forefront of your mind. Only for you to snap out of it again when he took a punishing nip at the sensitive flesh. As if to show you that you've done wrong. Like some kind of dog.

You quickly shoved him back, and got a good look at him. He was flustered, hair a mess from what you realized had been your hand tangling into his lochs. You didn't even remember doing that.

“Get off.” You hissed at him and he seemed taken aback by the pure anger in your voice.

He did as he was told, letting go of you and taking a few steps back. He stared at you and you quickly fixed your clothes, hand going up to your neck and cursing at the tender wet mark. That would bruise, you knew that very well.

“Don't ever touch me again, do you understand me?” You snapped at him. The look he gave you made your heart break. He looked so.. defeated, like you had just taken the world away from him. What? Did he assume things would be like it was? That you would just go back to summer? To be that free… You huffed and leaned off the desk, his eyes scanned over you as if he was trying to decipher what was happening. “You need to keep your hands to yourself, Remus. I need you to tell me you understand that.”

He frowned a bit and slowly nodded. “Yeah. Understood.” He mumbled and you leaned down to get your wand.

“I don't need anyone knowing I associate with anyone lesser than.” You were being harsh, you knew that, but you had to. Less he got ideas this was something he could keep alive.

Much to your dismay, he scoffed. “You don't believe that. You're going to have me believe you would go around with a muggle all summer, but a half blood is too much for you?”

Halfblood.. of bloody course he had to be a half blood. You rolled your eyes hard. “I thought you were a muggle I would never have to see again.”

Another lie. And by the look of it, he knew this one too.

“Sure, sure you did.” He huffed at you and crossed his arms.

You had only seen Remus angry twice, once when you were at the beach with your friends and a random boy came over to try and talk you up, while he was standing right next to you. Remus did not like that. He snaked his arm around your waist and locked his eyes on the poor chap before he left.

You felt cocky, having made the usually well mannered, civil boy so angry. You had looked up at him through your lashes, knowing every move that made the boy crazy, and ignored the flirt outright. Like it was a display of your commitment to your situationship.

The second time was when you were at home and one of your neighbors had been making a racket while you two tried to sleep. He found an easy solution to that problem, and even if he took it out on you in a very exhilarating way, he never had his anger directed at you.

Tonight, it seemed like he had a million different thoughts in his head and all of them pointed at you as the cause. You didn’t blame him.

“I'm serious, Remus. Don't make what happened between us anything more than what it was.” You spat harshly and slipped your wand in your pocket, moving to pass him but he spoke up and stood in front of you. It was slow and calm, like he was herding you.

“What was it then? Enlighten me. You are a clever girl, and you never hesitate to tell me what you want.” Remus’s tone was terrifying at first, you had never heard so much strain and anger in someone's voice before. “So what was it? A three month long game? You introduce me to your friends for a little hit of something dangerous? You take me home and beg me to stay the summer for a quick fuck?” Remus had his hands out and threw them around to emphasize his point. You could see how he was clenching his hands, the veins in his arms harsh and visible. “You tell me you love me for a quick. Fuck?”

You snapped your thoughts back to reality, memories rushing back with every ounce of blood in your body, flushing your skin a tint of embarrassing red.

Your eyes widened, lips parting. “I-I never said that.”

“You did. I know because I was bloody begging you to. I had been imagining it for weeks, and it finally happened. And you acted like it was nothing.” He threw his hands down, putting them to his sides as he looked down at you.

“I thought I imagined it. But that look in your eye,” He gestured to you in aspiration, a clear disjointed hopelessness flickering between his eyes and relayed in his tone. “You can't fake that. I fucking hope you can't.”

He could not explain how much it rattled him. Your arms around his neck while he was rutting against you, your soft sounds egging him on. His hands holding you like you were glass, running up and down your legs to map out your figure for nights without it. Just begging himself. Begging himself to just say it. Just to hear your featherlight words piercing him a knife. The worst part? It was true. He knew it to be true.

You scoffed and turned your back to him, trying to hide your glossy eyes. This felt worse than how you expected. “... I wish I could say, I hate to disappoint you.”

Remus gave a laugh at your display. “What? You don't even know the worst about me, and you're this fucked up about it? That's it? That's all I get?” He stared down at you and you ran your fingers through your hair.

“That summer meant the world to me, you can't sit here and tell me you didn't feel a damn thing about it.” He spat harshly.

You pulled at the strands of your hair and laughed. It truly was like arguing with a partner, your mind kept going back to your concerns for him. You know, however, this time, his self deprecation was your fault. You were doing this to him, and it hurt like hell. “Yes!” You shouted and turned to face him, hands held out to exaggerate. “It meant nothing, Remus. Not a damn thing! I had done it before. Plenty of times.”

Remus rolled his eyes and you walked past him, shoving his shoulder as he tried, in vain, to stop you from running again. He turned to watch you open the door, as you looked back at him. His eyes widened and he looked right past you, but you didn't think about it.

“Stay far away from me, Remus. I mean it. I don't plan to ruin my name and my family legacy over a half breed.” Your words were aimed to kill. Glad his eyes weren't focused on you, you'd surely break. If he hated you, he wouldn't be so obsessed with the idea that you two could be anything more than what you truly were. He didn't need to know you were destined for a loveless life of pamper and spoils. He didn't need to know you would be married off once summer ended. He needed to forget that you fell in love with him that summer. In fact, he needed to think it wasn't true. It would just make this worse. “You need to realize that summer was a mistake. You're right, I don't know the worst of you. I don't care to. It's over. Be a big boy and let it go.”

Remus flinched and looked away, taking a small breath and you relaxed at his reaction. Seeing him finally give in broke your heart, but you were doing far worse to him, you were sure of it. You closed your eyes and turned to look away with a long pause.

“Listen-”

“Man, I hate being right sometimes.”

Your head snapped around and you locked eyes with Sirius Black. Now, you knew him, knew him as Walaburga warned you to stay far away from her disgraced son. You took a sharp breath as you looked across the alarmed and unsettled faces of who you recognize as students who were sitting around Remus in the hall. Lovely, so they surely know.

You collected yourself and straightened your back, waving your hand in a dismissive way. A red headed girl who was staring at you with the most confused look you'd ever seen, stepped aside. You quickly brushed past her and turned sharply to make it down the hall. Not wanting to hear the group talk about you. More so, not wanting to hear how bad you had hurt your moony.

~~~

The walk back to the dorms was hell.

He never knew Sirius could be so quiet. The only thing that could be heard was their soft footsteps making it towards the staircase.

What was worse than the silence, was the whispers. The second the five entered the common room, everyone seemed to be alive with chatter about what had gone down merely an hour ago.

“Remus! What was that?” Marlene shouted from her seat on the couch, turning to face him with a bright smile. Mary closed her book on her lap as Marlene began to turn with her knees in the cushions.

“Come on, Remus! You don't just call the new mystery girl by first name and run away!” She called after him as he walked his way up to Sirius and Peter’s dorms. Mary reached up and yanked Marlene down by her ear. The blonde yelped and fell easily into Mary’s lap. Looking up at her with a cheeky grin, much like James, puddy to her girlfriend. “Hey! I mean- Hey~”

Mary rolled her eyes and glanced back to see Lily send her an appreciative look before she followed the boys into what was once their shared dorm room.

She closed the door behind her and looked up to see Remus sitting in his old bed and staring at the wall. She sighed and put her hands on her hips.

James bit his cheek and rolled his jaw a bit. “Hey, Remus, I know it's not what you want to hear-”

“Then don't say it.” Remus groaned and covered his face. His lips still tingled from the kiss. It shouldn't have been this hard. He knew you were out of his league, the moment you mentioned your causal springs in Paris and winters in Australia. Your small comments while you spoiled him through the summer, with gifts and sweets, he knew at least three of his outfits in his luggage were from you. He didn't know if he wanted to frame or burn them.

Lily gave him her soft eyes, the ones that usually made Remus feel at his safest. Now, all he could think about was what it meant to be held by you, just hours after his transformation. True safety was your arms.

“Lily-”

“I know.” Lily whispered and moved to sit beside him on the bed. He looked at her as she placed her hand on his wrist and lowered it. She interlocked their fingers and she traced shapes along the back of his palm. It burned, almost like she was branding his very flesh. Another reminder he would never feel you trace your name in his back again. Like how you had done, on the beach, leaving your initials along his spine when the tan took over.

“How's Moony?” Lily whispered and Remus gave a deep sigh.

“He won't shut up. He's clawing at my throat.” He mumbled and Lily slowly rested her head against his shoulder, hand running up his arm and rubbing it.

“Do you think.. maybe he'll grow to get over it?” She whispered, slowly pressing her nose to his arm. “Like before?” She whispered lower and Remus grimaced.

“It's nothing compared to knowing she's.. she's so close. And I just can't-” He lifted his hands and she let hers untangle from his. “I can't..” He clenched his fists and slowly rubbed his forehead. “I need her.”

“Remus, you don't need her,” Lily tried to interject before she flinched at the look in his eyes. He looked dangerous, like she had denied him something vital. Then she realized, right. Three days, coming on the next full moon.

Moony was on edge. Remus wasn't usually this in tune with him, he did his best to ignore him day to day. But you had been his weakness from day one.

Normally, for Remus, he wouldn't dare say anything to a pretty girl in a record store. One who carried herself with so much confidence and determination. He should have taken note, your expensive shoes for a casual walk, your outfit wreaked of old money and your attitude alone showed you were used to being treated like a princess.

But Merlin, if you didn't have him and Moony on the same page for once. You were just his type, and yet the complete opposite at the same time. He was whipped before he knew your name.

By the time you said his, he was done for.

So he did everything in his power to avoid running into you again. A muggle and a half blood wizard tainted with wolf blood, what a romantic pair. He would do far more damage to who he thought you were then to any witch he'd ever meet. He would never want to force himself on someone so perfect. Then you showed up that night on his walk home and ruined everything. Ruined him.

Yet he still wanted more.

Remus snapped from his thoughts. He noticed Lily’s hesitation before slowly sighing. He shouldn't be taking it out on his friends, he knew that.

Peter snuck his way over to Remus. He wasn't one for many words, but he handed him a chocolate bar. Remus couldn't help but smile, the same thing Peter always did to comfort him. “Thank you.” He whispered.

Lily looked back to James and Sirius, giving a long sigh through her nose.

They both seemed locked in a silent conversation with their eyes. Lily gave a huff through her nose and slapped her hand down onto her lap as she glared at the two.

“Merlin's beard! Your friend is here distressed, say something!” Lily snapped at them and Remus put his hand on her shoulder.

“Lily, it's okay.” He mumbled before Sirius spoke up.

“I would! But James said I'll only make it worse!”

“Because you have a habit of it!” James challenged and Lily scoffed.

“Sirius, say what you must.” She groaned and Sirius bit his cheek before he sighed.

“Well.. she's a pureblood. You described her completely different then how she is now, and she got special training from mother dearest.” Sirius mused as he counted each point on his fingers. “Three strikes and she's been brainwashed.”

Lily furrowed her eyebrows before she looked at Remus who shook his head. James began to gesture wildly at Sirius. “Told you so!”

“She.. she's too strong willed to be broken so easily.” He mumbled and paused. He remembered your words carefully. Every memory of you was tainted and made Moony howl out in desperation for his pack back. His love back. You seemed so real.

You would be so prim and proper outside, Merlin, you used proper dining etiquette at the rundown muggle diners he could hardly afford to take you, like it was second nature. But behind closed doors? You were more of a gremlin then you were a girl at times. Huddled up on the couch in his oversized clothes with your hair a mess and eating cereal from the box. Eyes still messy from sleep and drool still dried on your chin.

He wanted to believe that was the real you. That was the one he fell in love with. If that was you, and it had to be, then maybe not brainwashed but.. the pressure was getting to you. He knew Sirius struggled with it at times, being an heir to an entire dynasty was daunting. That had to be it.

“... I can wait.” He resolved, earning a curious look from everyone in the room.

“I can wait for her to realize I'm worth it.” He whispered, and earned a shocked look from Lily, James seemed ecstatic, Sirius looked bewildered. Even Peter’s jaw dropped.

Sirius slowly smirked. Hell yeah moons, you are worth it.

Lily engulfed him in a hug, smiling bright. Peter clapped a hand on his shoulder, but no one looked prouder than James.

Tomorrow was a new day.

~~~

The second you got back to the dorms you were overwhelmed by the eyes on you. You were aware the bruise was already forming on your neck, so you had wrapped yourself up in your green scarf. Chin high, practiced and poised, you had to remember.

This wasn't Dumstrang. You had actual power here.

You stepped past the couch, glancing over to a boy. He had straight black hair and bright eyes, a lazy smirk on his face. You knew him, you knew every pureblood your father seemed to think it was worth knowing.

“Mulciber.” You quipped and took a moment to pause. He looked you over before he leaned forward, elbows to his thighs. “Well, if it isn't the Slytherin princess.”

His tone made your nose scrunch up, waving your hand dismissively. “Do not address me so informally.” You snapped back and it seemed to only egg on his interest. The voices around you quieting down, as if your conversation was the most important thing in the entire common room.

This would be interesting… By the looks on everyone's faces, the two of them must have looked like dragons raring their fangs at each other.

“Sorry, sorry doll, just saw that Half breed calling you by first name, I was wondering what kind of privileges us purebloods had.” He chuckled and stood up, earning a laugh from the boy beside him, Avery. You crossed your arms and turned to face him with a harsh glare. Even Avery had the good sense to fake a cough in the chillingly silent common room.

“Watch your tongue, Mulciber. I think you forget who you're speaking to.” You snapped and he put his hands up and playfully flinched back, like you were a caged cat hissing more than a Gaunt. “I suggest you learn to respect your superiors.”

“Superiors?” He laughed, walking closer to lean down. He was as tall as a bloody tree, not as tall as Remus, but enough to remind you that your wand was very hard to salvage in an emergency.

“Are you my superior, love? Who's yours?” He smirked and reached for your scarf. Your hand found your pocket, securing your grip on your wand handle. “Let me guess.. that little half breed had some-”

His wrist was grabbed harshly before he could remove the cloth covering up any evidence of Remus’s wandering lips. Your eyes followed the pale arm and your eyebrows raised at the sight of the youngest Black son, Regulus.

You suddenly remembered that old hags warning, that her youngest son and new heir would be at the school, in your house, as if there was not a shred of doubt you would be in Slytherin. That she would inform him to look after you, ensuring your father there was no funny business happening. Just great…

He looked a lot like Sirius, just angry and a bit more feminine. You wonder how two boys clearly so similar could be so different. It was evident, even if you couldn't see the peaking snake tattoo on his wrist from where you stood.

“Back off, Mulciber.” He warned in a cutting tone. You looked back at the offender as he scoffed and snatched his hand away. “Just looking, Reggie.” He sneared with a smirk. You huffed and turned to him with an apprehensive look. Sizing up the boy two years younger than you, he couldn't be older than 16, he still had a bit of a baby face, and a hollow face. Terrifying how much he looked like his mother.

He just gave you a nod and gestured to his side. “I'll take you to your room, Gaunt.”

You cautiously accepted his help, hands behind your back as you walked towards the steps he gestured to. Resolving within yourself to return back to your younger mindset.

Merlin this would be a long year.

~~~

The next day, waking up was a chore in itself.

Remus toughed through it, making his way to the great hall with some prodding from Lily. He couldn't say no, she had traveled all the way from the head dorms to the prefects to retrieve him.

When he sat down, the table felt lively again, but he could still feel all the eyes on him. He caught you at the Slytherin table, you had done your makeup and you were dressed up in subtle jewelry he remembered from the summer before. You took extra care of your appearance, and you seemed to effortlessly have every Slytherin wrapped around your finger.

You seemed so.. fake. So doll-like. You had a harsh and exact scowl, you looked dangerous but alluring, your eyes fluttered despite your clear stoic expression. When attention was given to you, you held it so effortlessly and that made his stomach turn. You used to look so much happier. When you were with him.

Sirius made some comment about your company, it was only then he noticed you were sitting with Regulus Black.

Remus didn't like to admit he could be a jealous person. Anytime you had teased him about his protectiveness, his unspoken claim over what was ‘his’ he would deny it.

Or better, blame it on Moony.

This time, it wouldn't be an entire lie. He felt his worse half begin to tear at the back of his head, shooting a painful jolt down his spine. His grip on his spoon tightened, as he watched you look at the younger boy with a practiced pout. Your eyelashes fluttered again as you played the part well, just a pretty arm piece with a valuable name.

Regulus seemed indifferent to your behavior, but still entertained your presence. More then could be said for most. Acting like a proper pureblood gentleman, and as he leaned down to whisper something in your ear, he heard James let out a shocked squeak.

Snapping back to, Remus looked over to James and narrowed his eyes, practically fuming. “What?”

“Mate.” Sirius prodded and met his eyes. The black haired boys were full of a strange kind of worry.

“What?” Remus pressed.

“Look at your arm mate.” Sirius stressed and gestured to his hand. The one clenching the metal in his palm, patches of discolored grey and long hairs spread across his hand and arm. His nails growing claw like, just a few of them, before they greyed out. His body grew stiff and dread filled him. What the actual fuck? What was happening?

Then the pain came, the very familiar bone breaking stretch of his flesh. He dropped the spoon in shock and gave a sharp hiss.

As shock overtook his anger, his hand began to return to normal. He sighed and rubbed his wrist and looked back up at you and Regulus, watching you get up and Regulus grabbed your bag for you, walking you out of the Grand Hall.

Remus felt a growl leave his throat and he quickly reached up to grab his throat, and his eyes widened. They locked with Lily’s own wide eyes from across from him. “Remus…” She whispered, and he avoided her eyes, looking down at his food.

Great, He thought, another freakish thing she can hate about me.

[devixxish]

Synopsis: A dive into Gojo's mentality after your inevitable break up. Can be read as a follow up to this.

Word Count: 1,101

Tags: angst, emotional distress, self blame, basically he's going thru it after y'alls breakup.

A/N: while taking a break from working on main pieces, I came up with this lil sumn. Enjoy? <33

It was quiet. Way too quiet. The kind of quiet that made his own breathing sound too loud, made the walls feel like they were closing in on him. Suffocating. Yet his apartment felt too big without you in it. Too still.

He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. His fingers twitched, restless. Like they were searching, yearning for something to hold onto. But there was nothing. There hadn't been anything for a while now, and it was all his own fault.

The lamp in the corner buzzed faintly, lighting the room in a dull, yellow glow. It didn't quite reach the far corners. It barely reached the shadows creeping in from the hallway, long and unmoving. The air was cold and stale, heavy with the scent of something old, but not really. Something faint, something familiar. Your perfume still clung to the fabric of his bedsheets, to every little thing you had touched in his apartment. Too light to be real, too strong to ignore.

He should open a window. Or maybe turn the heater on. He should just do something to make the place feel less empty, less quiet, less.. Less like you. But all he did was sit there, wallowing in his own regrets.

The apartment still looked like you might walk in at any moment. His bedsheets still messy from the last time you were there; he hadn't touched them. Your hair tie on the bathroom sink. A forgotten sweater draped over the chair by the window. A book you never got to finish, spine-up on the nightstand. Little pieces of you, scattered everywhere. He told himself he should put it all away, or maybe send them over to you, save you the trouble of coming over to pick them up. But the thought of erasing you like that, of making it truly final made him sick in his stomach.

The silence was almost deafening, louder than any argument you had ever had.

It had been a few days, maybe a week since he let go. Or maybe since you let go. Since everything slipped through his fingers and he just let it happen. Not because you wanted to leave. Not because you got tired of him, or fell out of love. But because he was the one who pushed you away in the worst way possible.

He didn't mean to. God, he didn't mean to.

But how do you hold onto something real when you're still haunted by a ghost?

He thought he had time. He thought you'd always be there, waiting for him to open his eyes, to see what was right in front of him. Thought he had time to figure his shit out. He thought you understood. How selfish of him. People aren't placeholders; he figured you eventually realized that. You realized you weren't what he wanted. Not really.

And by the time he did want you - really want you - it was too late. You were already gone.

A car drove by outside. Muffled voices sounded from somewhere down the street. The neighbor's dog barked. Life kept moving on without him. No one knew he was there, sitting in his apartment that still reminded him of you, wishing he could undo the last few months of his life.

A sharp exhale left his chest, shaky, unsteady. With a shake of his head, he let out a small laugh, a bitter sound. A few years ago, he would've scoffed at the thought of himself like this- sitting alone in his freezing apartment, alone, a mess, waiting for someone to notice he was fucking miserable. He was always the one who didn't need anyone. The strongest; nothing could touch him.

But look at him now.

Drenched in sorrow, full of regrets, rethinking his every decision. Silently begging for someone to care.

And still, no one did.

He leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face, fingers pressing into his temples. His mind hazy and his body heavy, keeping him stuck on this moment, on this feeling. The memories came in flashes. The way your eyes used to light up when you smiled at him. The way you'd hold onto his hand, laughing at something stupid he said. The way you looked at him that last night; hurt, exhausted, waiting for him to say something that never came.

His eyes drifted over to the place you used to sit, curled in on yourself, or wrapped around him. The place where you talked or read, or simply existed in the unique way you did. Now, it was just messy sheets, a dent in the mattress and silence. Another ghost.

He missed you. God, he really did. Not just the version of you in his head, but you. The real you. The one who did wait for him, maybe longer than you should have. The one who tried to love him even when he couldn't love you back properly. The one he let slip away because he was too caught up in someone else who belonged in his past. Because he had been too blind, too fucking selfish to see what he had until it was already gone.

People don't just wake up and decide they'll leave. They leave when they realize they were never really chosen.

And he had let you walk away thinking you never meant anything.

He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw tight as he let out a slow exhale.

You were better now, away from him. At least, he hoped you were. You deserved that much and even more. And he- he didn't know what he deserved anymore. Maybe this was exactly what he deserved. Nights like this, stuck inside his own head, replaying every moment, every second of whatever went wrong.

How pathetic.

How fucking human.

The apartment felt smaller now. Like the walls were shrinking, ready to swallow him whole. His ribs felt like they were closing in on him, pressing against his already aching heart.

He needed to move, to do something. Maybe go to bed, or take a walk, or just do something other than sit there drowning in this feeling. His body refused to cooperate, but he finally willed himself to stand up.

Being in there, alone with his thoughts, surrounded by all the places you used to be- he couldn't stand it anymore.

So he grabbed his jacket.

He didn't know where he would go. But then again, he didn't really care.

If he was lucky, maybe the night would swallow him whole before the morning could find him.

Devixxish© All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload or modify my work in any way.

@spaceinvadernelly as promised<3

[tmwcs]

HI, I LOVE UR WRITING SO MUCH!!

can u do something,like a oneshot Or something for heeseung where because of being an idol he can't date but he's also a hormonal man so he gets hot and bothered due to stress and other factors often but now it's gotten to a point where he can't concentrate, he needs pussy. So he tells his manager who pulls him aside one day to ask him what's wrong with him. Now the manager arranges someone (YOU) as a stress reliever for heeseung. U can continue the rest hehe:)

”The Arrangement.”

Warnings: Idol HS and y/n, oral (fem receiving), reader is getting paid for sex, hints of rough smut.

“Heeseung, come on! More energy! Bring out Ethan Lee! Concert is in a few hours, we need everyone on point.”

Heeseung’s hands remained firm on his hips as he rolled his eyes and caught his breath. He was frustrated, angry, and disappointed, mainly because there was a lot of truth in the staff’s words, he wasn’t as lively or energetic…in fact, he was slacking. 

“Yeah….got it. Can we do another take?” 

The staff and creative director all nod and aired the track as the boys performed their routine. “Yes! Just like that! Keep doing that Heeseung!”

“Nice wink, Jake! Do that more!”

“Sunoo, more smiling!”

“Jungwon, tilt your chin down more on this part.”

“Nice one Niki!”

“Jay, too sexy! Tone it down just a tad.”

“Sunghoon, do that thing that the girls like, you know, lick the fangs. That drives them crazy, and we want them to go ballistic during the concert.”

By the end of the hour, the group had completed a lengthy six hour session, with only ten minutes to spare before hair and makeup. “Changeover!” the staff yells out, already herding the young men backstage. 

“Heeseung…you good?”

“Huh?  Oh…yeah….”

“You sure? You seem to be out of it, I know it’s hard to get rest when we’re busy on tour…just a few more days and we can finally get a break.” Jake was always understanding, and normally he could guess the issue and provide the motivation as a resolve for everyone, including the eldest. However, this time…he wasn’t guessing correctly. 

“Yeah…thanks.” Heeseung merely stated before changing into the first outfit. He wasn’t tired or feeling restless, maybe to an extent, but that really wasn’t the cause of his lack in performance. The man was yearning; hungry for a desire that could not be fulfilled by the pampering treatment of first class air tickets, the rising fame of popularity, or the lavish hotel stay. He needed flesh, and badly. 

While it was customary for idol’s to keep things hush-hush as far as their personal lives went, it didn’t mean that they could indulge, so long as it never reached public sight or hearing. What with the frequent dates he’s gone on with many of the most well known female idols, some younger or older, the rigorous tour schedule had kept him from maintaining anything steady, and for so long he had been running dry. He wasn’t necessarily desperate, just needed the warmth and comfort of a suitable woman. 

The concert ended, and as always, the group had served well and performed fantastically. The energy was thriving and the atmosphere was filled with screams as each member waved goodbye. 

Finally, it was all done. 

“Well…we got two more days here until we fly back. We gonna do anything?” Jake inquires openly as he high-fives each member. 

“Niki and I were going to go try out this restaurant. They charge $300 per steak.”

“Oh I heard about that place. Don’t they have a year-long waitlist?” 

“Manager got us in.”

Heeseung pretended to be asleep, propping his head against the window as his arms remained firmly crossed against his chest. His ears pricked up as he overheard the ongoing conversation inside the van. 

After arriving at the hotel, everyone went into their respective rooms. As usual, Heeseung had a room entirely by himself, which he and the members were instructed to tell the fans that it was all due to chance of winning “Rock, Paper, Scissors” when in reality, the eldest of the group receives such privileges as customary within the industry. But for the sake of reflecting the bond and “softness” within their image, the company deemed it better to lie about the room assignments. 

He tosses his leather jacket aside as it flops onto the chair backing. Exhaustion took over his entire body as he threw himself on the bed. His eyes slowly open as he reaches for his phone, half of his face still buried into the plush bedding as he explores his pocket and dig it out. There was no way he could spend another night alone, taking care of his needs by hand. WIth as many callouses he had, there was no way he could even make it feel natural or good, there wasn’t enough lotion in the world that could cover up and mend the roughness of his hardworking skin. 

“We need to talk.” was all he types in before sending off the message. 

A few moments pass before he hears the knocking at his door. “Well that was fast…Mr. Manager.” he softly whispers while lifting his body off the bed. 

“Heeseung, what’s up?”

“Need you to come inside for a second.”  Heeseung nonchalantly spoke out as he turned and lazily plops himself on the couch. HIs manager followed closely behind and took a seat across, looking at the young man intently before raising the concern yet again. “Everything alright?”

“You really have to ask?” Heeseung peeks from under his elbow as he drapes an arm over his eyes. He really didn’t like to make eye contact when it came to the topic of girls and dating…and this wasn’t going to be any easier. “I need a woman…”

“.....you mean….a date?” his manager tries to confirm, before a snappy Heeseung gently corrects him. 

“Not to date….I need a woman…I need skin…flesh…hair….and nails to dig into my skin with a feminine voice to scream out my name.” 

“....so you want a prostitute?” 

“NOT A PROSTITUTE!” on the verge of losing it, Heeseung sits up rather abruptly as he squares his gaze over to his manager. He really wasn’t trying to be impatient or unpleasant, he was in a vulnerable state of mind. No man should ever go so long without feel the pleasures of someone else’s body, especially someone who is constantly surrounded by all these pretty little fans that were filling his mind with all sorts of sordid thoughts….them with their perfect makeup, the sweet fragrances of their perfume and those damn long and elegant acrylic nails. Day in and day out, he’s surrounded by feminine energy, it all contributed to this sexual demise he was falling into. “I’m just going to put it this way….if you don’t find me someone that can keep their mouth shut, and spend one night with me, then I am going to lose it. I’m on the verge of doing reckless things, and I can’t control it. Just find me someone that isn’t a prude but isn’t desperate.”

The manager knew Heeseung well enough to know when the young man was on the road to destruction, this was one of them. The heat of anger coming from his eyes was enough to tell him what he had to do. The hardest factor about this thing is finding someone suitable, not only in appearance but in their manners; he’d have to be cunning and covert. 

Five hours in, he nearly fell to the ground in defeat when suddenly…

“Excuse me, Sir?”

“Hm? Yes?”

“You dropped this back at the last walkway.” 

“Oh!...Thank you….”

You turned to  continue on with your own business when the gentleman spoke out in haste, you had assumed it was because he wanted to thank you once again for returning his wallet, but the tune of his wording made you realize that that wasn’t the case. 

“Young lady, I have a proposition for you…do you have a minute?”

…………………….

A half hour later, after an internal hesitant debate, you caved in at the young man’s offer. You weren’t the type to ever hook up with a random man, even an idol, but the fact that you had been running dry since your last break up over a year ago, and not to mention the exquisite monetary offer that would cover three months of your rent, which would leave you that much stress free from everything else going on. Your final year in college has been more demanding than the previous, so much that you had to quit your part time job, which left you struggling financially. All of this led to the perfect combination of desperation, sexually frustrated, and mentally drained. By the time he mentioned that a non-disclosure agreement would mandate that both you and the idol would refrain from exposing your identities, you accepted. 

Expressing that you wanted to get it done and over with, the man took you to the lavish hotel room, the most expensive in your home country. You weren’t entirely sure how you felt, being taken to an extremely fancy hotel room to meet a young and handsome performer and spend one night with him…for sex. Should you bail out now? 

“We’re here. Here’s the key card, it’s on the third floor, room number 306.” 

You take the key card and paused, thinking for a moment if you should just tell him that the deal was off. But the subtle push over towards the elevator pretty much sealed your night. 

You walked through the narrow corridor, staring at the gold engraving of the numbers on the key card. With a deep breath, you gently knocked on the door before inserting the key. “Hello?” you gently speak out as you open the door. The entire room was dimmed with a golden hue with no one in sight; the massive bed topped with goose feather pillows and comforter sets up an enticing welcome as you breach closer to the main layout. 

“Well hello.”

You turned in haste upon hearing the deep voice from behind, and saw him. He was leaning back against the wall, behind the door panel side. No wonder you didn’t see him when entering, the wide door swing provided enough cover for him to remain elusive yet still having enough sight to observe how delectable you look. His manager outdid himself. 

“Oh…hi…I’m sorry…my name is–”

“Y/N…”

“Y-yeah…”

The manager must have already texted the idol your name. You couldn’t lie, this entire thing was uncomfortable, and you were on the verge of backing out when the man started to walk over, stepping into the warm light. He had a handsome face, and was tall…very tall, but of all things that got to you, was the glaring look he had in his eye. He looked hungry, famished even, with the way he stroked his finger across his lips as he tilted his chin downard, arms loosely crossed as he took each step steadily. 

“Um…I’m not sure…if I should–”

“You’re already here…might as well get it going.”

He grabbed onto your shoulders, proceeding to walk forward as he herd’s you backwards until your back meets the opposite wall. He really was hungry, and unfortunately for you, it was contagious. WIth the way his hands roamed all over our body, the way his mouth immediately latched onto your throat, and the way his fingers ripped your blouse apart, sending buttons flying all over, he was a demon tainting every sense of rationality in your mind and you loved it. Still, you were experiencing hesitancy, but the moment he peeled your bra down and began sucking on your nipples, leaving squelching kisses the soft skin on your mounds. “W-wait…”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he drags you down onto the ground, pushing you back to lay you down, leaving you completely vulnerable. He had to be hurting with the way he was feasting on your body, so much that you wondered exactly just how long he had gone without it, and was it longer than you? 

“I-I…” was all you could manage to stutter when he started to lift your skirt, ruffling it around your waist as he fingers the damask lining of your thigh high stockings. With a mouthful of your skin, he muffles his burning desire. “Stop trying to push me away…I’ve been hurting for so long.” 

You ignored his words as you continued to create some distance. You were torn, he felt so good rubbing your curves but also made you feel scared with how pushy and forceful he was becoming. You nearly screamed out when the sudden warmth of soft, plush lips tenderly kissed your clitoris. Being so caught up with his mannerisms, you hadn’t realized that he dragged and tore your panties off, leaving you bare and exposed. The way his tongue circulated around and pressed in between the folds of your womanhood caused you to drop your hands to your side, no longer putting up any resistance. He kept going, licking and twirling his tongue around, making your head spin vigorously as he committed the only gentle act of the night, which was placing his hands on your inner thighs and pushing them apart as he buried his face deeper into your core. 

You moaned out in extreme ecstasy, arching your back and digging your hips downward. You gulped down hard swallows as you try to catch your breath, but the sensation of his nose and mouth inducing the most pleasure you’ve felt in over a year had you inadvertently suppressing screams, choking on your own breaths. 

“O-oh!...Oh my God! P-please!” You dug your fingernails into the floorboard, squinting your eyes shut as you gasped out your moans, he went in faster and flickered his tongue deeper while shoving it inside your cavity. Groaning out his pleasures, he growls as he thrusts it in and out. He closes your legs together, pressing them closer to your chest as he wraps his arms around your thighs, still slurping and thrusting his oral muscle. Propping his stature on the caps of his knees, he hugs your thighs close to his chest as he lifts your derriere from off the floor as he brings you closer to the edge. HIs face shoved in against your taint, his slick tongue going in and out at a vigorous momentum, the faint echoes of his cheeks slapping into you as the impact caused your body to shift up while he had you partially levitated did you in, and you screamed out your moans. With your thighs shook, lips quivered, and chest heaving, you laid restlessly as the hot stream of fresh tears escaped from the outer corners of your closed eyes. Your heavy breathing became a rewarding sight as he remained in his kneeling position, unbuckling his belt. A smirk creeps up on his face as he sheds off his attire, chuckling in a demeaning manner as he looks down at you, somewhat pitifully and yet adoringly. 

“Oh pretty thing…the night is just getting started. Got a lot of pent up frustration in me, and unfortunately, I’m about to take it out all on you. Now…grab it…and scream out my name.”

……………………..

Days had passed since that night, and you still felt sore in between your legs. It was stingy, yet the pulsating rampage also reminded you of the greatest pleasure you had felt in all your life. Not even your ex-boyfriend, the one who was known to frequent the college campus girls, could even make you feel remotely as good. Must be an idol thing, either that or there must be something in the water in South Korea. Too bad you’ll never see him again. 

You were making your way over towards the bus station ahead, when a large crowd blocked your way. 

“Oh come on…” you tilted your head left, and right, all to find a small loophole within the bustling groups of young girls screaming their heads off and flashing dozens of pictures. You shuffled your way through, not paying any mind to your surroundings, when all of a sudden a young fellow dressed in black approaches you.

“Miss y/n?”

“Yes?...who are you?”

The man declines to answer, instead, he hands you a folded piece of paper. You unfolded it to read the contents, looking rather confused. 

‘Hey pretty thing, you free tonight?’

Looking up, the staff member smiles as he points to the side, indicating for you to look in that direction. Turning your head over shoulder, you were stunned to see the man from the other night, the idol who violated you with his tongue and cock, had you begging for more until the wee hours of the early morning. It was him…

“Oh my God is he looking at me?!”

“No he’s looking at me!”

“Heeseung! Heeseung!” 

All the girls waved and jumped, but the direct eye contact and small smirk told you of who he truly was looking at. He sends off a wink which had all the girls pool into an emotional and hormonal mess, leaving only you standing upright, with his eyes still looking directly into your own, he silently mouths out the words to you. 

“My…pretty….thing.”

[lpmurphy]

Begin Again

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Summary: It had been thirty years since his truck tires rolled out of her drive for the last time. Even longer since the day his locker door slammed shut beside hers and marked the beginning of Jack Abbot. Beth had never expected it to end. Never expected to live a lifetime with only the ghost of the boy who promised her one together. She never expected to see him again. Until that curtain flung open, and there he was. And just like that, Jack Abbot began again.

Notes: jack abbot/single mom!ofc, reunited high school sweethearts, second chance romance, slow (emphasis on the SLOW) burn, seriously it's slow, ofc’s daughter is a teenage gen z menace and we love her for it, angst/longing/yearning to the max, hurt/comfort, author is just an english teacher with no medical background, eventual smut, jack and ofc are emotionally constipated idiots

Word Count: 8,845

Read on AO3

Chapter Nine: Operation: Wallet Drop

Phase One had been straightforward enough. Not her most brilliant scheme, but not her sloppiest either. Honestly, it was pretty solid for something she pulled out of her ass in an ER. The plan: casually leave Mom’s wallet somewhere Jack would definitely find it, complete with her drivers license that oh so conveniently displayed her exact address. Then, wait, and hope Hoodie Guy didn’t get to it first.

But from the way Mom’s breath caught when she opened the door, Abby knew that the right guy found it. Operation Wallet Drop was a success. Screw Honors Society. This was probably the most accomplished Abby had ever felt in her entire life. 

Alright. Time for Phase Two: Get Him Through the Door. 

Abby peeked over the back of the couch, watching the front door without totally giving herself away. Atlas pranced in little circles around Jack, sniffing his legs like a drug dog who just found a Scarface-level mountain of cocaine while Mom gripped the doorframe like it was keeping her upright. Neither of them spoke for a long minute, which Abby found very dramatic, but whatever. Doing her best not to look like she was full-on surveillance van eavesdropping, she turned down New Girl just enough to hear Mom sputter like her brain was rebooting.

“Hi,” her mom said, the soft way she said it sounding like she was choking on her own breath.

“Hi,” Jack echoed, shifting like he wasn’t sure if he was trespassing.

“What are you doing here?” her mom asked, and Abby winced. A little too sharp, Mom. C’mon. Ugh, someone save this woman from herself before she goes full Nick Miller and gives up on men and starts growing tomatoes.

Jack didn’t seem to mind. He held up the wallet and gave it a wiggle. “Thought you might need this.”

“Oh, God,” her mom said with a soft gasp and a shaky laugh. “Shit. I didn’t even notice that was gone. Thank you.” 

Mom reached for the wallet. Her fingers hesitated just long enough that Abby clocked it, but not long enough for Jack to notice. Maybe. Jack shrugged a little too casually for someone who changed clothes and detoured across town after a twelve hour shift just to loiter on their porch.

“Dana found it on the counter after you left,” he said. “Robby was gonna bring it by, but I was already heading this way, so…”

Uh-huh. Sure you were, Abby thought. She smirked from her perch on the couch. Liar. You just didn’t want Hoodie Guy to get to her first. You wanted to see her. And now you have. And now you’re standing there like a sad, hopeful golden retriever just waiting to be let inside.

Her mom smiled, the kind she tried to suppress and totally failed at. “You could’ve just put it in my locker.”

“I could’ve,” Jack agreed easily, like he wasn’t hanging on every breath of this conversation, and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Just figured I’d get it to you before you canceled all your credit cards.”

That got her. A little laugh, quiet and warm, but Jack smiled for it the same way he had her snort-laugh. Abby grinned. Yes. Good. Good. Laugh more. Mom nodded and pulled her cardigan tight before crossing her arms. “Yeah. That would’ve been a nightmare.”

Oh, whatever. Jack didn’t swing by to save her from logging into her bank account and clicking three buttons. That was bullshit and they all knew it. And Abby was so here for it. Now, if only her mom would do something besides just hovering in the doorway. Invite him in! Execute Phase Two! Come on, you beautiful stupid idiot! Literally get out of your own way!

But Mom didn’t invite him in. Abby puffed a sigh through her nose. That’s it. They got ten more seconds, and then she was going in.

Jack didn’t leave, and Mom didn’t close the door. Instead, they just stood there; two emotionally repressed idiots marinating in three decades worth of unresolved tension like that was a totally normal thing to do on a Saturday evening. Jack shifted his stance and glanced past her like he was trying not to look like he was casing the joint.

“Nice place,” he said, tilting his head toward the house like he hadn’t been staring at it for the past thirty seconds.

Abby rubbed her face. Oh my god, dude. Lame . Old people flirting is so boring.

“You guys been here long?”

Jesus Christ, someone make a flippin’ move. This feels like an episode of the Golden Bachelor.

Mom nodded, her hands tightening in the sleeves of her cardigan. “Um, thanks. We moved in after we left Boston back in 2017.”

Oh my god, Mom, he literally does not care what year we moved into the house. He’s lingering. God, was there a single brain cell between the two of them? Invite him in, you dumb, dumb bitch. 

He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, dropping one hand low enough for Atlas to nose at his fingers. “What made you leave Boston?”

Mom shrugged. “Oh, you know… I wanted to get Abby closer to everyone, and I got offered a chief attending position at Mercy. Better pay, better benefits, two hours from my parents.” A soft laugh. “It felt like the right call.”

Jack nodded. “Makes sense.”

And… that was it. Conversation dead. He was still leaning in the doorway like he lived there, and Mom was still just standing there like she didn’t know she could invite him inside without a notarized affidavit from God. C’mon, Mom. Invite him in. He obviously wants to or he would’ve handed you the wallet and bolted. Do you not see him? Do you not see yourself ?

Abby narrowed her eyes, then pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. These two were useless. Just vibes and history and not a single ounce of game between the two of them. Good Lord, Atty was making more of a move on Jack than her mom was. 

Clowns. Just clown behavior all around. The circus was in town, and it was right there on her front porch.

Fine. If no one else was going to do anything about it, she would. Phase Two was happening whether they liked it or not.

Abby rolled onto her knees, wincing a little as a sharp pain lit up her leg. Worth it though. She leaned over the back of the couch just enough to be fully visible from the front door.

“Who’s here?” she called, all bright-eyed innocence like she hadn’t been spying on this emotional dumpster fire for the past five minutes. And, oh my god, crazy, wow. Could it be? Say it ain’t so. As I live and breathe… “Doctor Mullet!”

Jack laughed through his nose, one corner of his mouth twitching up. “Hey, kid.”

Mom flinched like she forgot she wasn’t alone. “Abby, don’t—”

“What are you doing here?” Abby interrupted, propping her chin on her arms. Come on, Baker. Really sell it. You definitely haven’t been here the whole time. Atlas boofed once and kept nosing at Jack’s pockets.

“Your mom left her wallet behind at the hospital, figured I’d bring it by.” Then, as if realizing he sounded way too eager about a thirty-minute round trip, he added, “I was in the neighborhood anyway.”

Abby arched one skeptical brow so hard it practically detached from her face like a cartoon character. Sure you were. She could count on one hand the number of people who just happened to be “in the neighborhood” of the like, most disgustingly suburban street in all of Squirrel Hill after dark, and most of them were DoorDash drivers or serial killers. Jack didn’t have a pizza box or a ski mask, so… yeah. Not buying it. Nice try.

“Oh my god, that’s crazy. Mom never forgets her wallet. Good thing you found it before some total lunatic did and tried to, like, steal her identity and open sixteen credit cards in her name,” Abby continued. Good thing I planted it exactly where you would find it. “That would’ve been a disaster.”

Mom made a strangled noise that might’ve been a laugh or a death rattle and shot her a look. Abby rolled her eyes so hard that she swore they clicked. Oh, get over yourself, Elizabeth. 

But Jack only chuckled. “It’s no problem.”

No problem, he says, as he lingers in the doorway like he’s waiting for a handwritten invitation and a red carpet. Abby stared at him. Then at her mom. Then back at him.

Phase Two, you magnificent disaster people. Phase. Freaking. Two. Commencing now.

Abby pushed off the couch and stood, limping just enough to elicit sympathy if anyone was paying attention; not that either of them were. They were too busy fidgeting and stealing glances like this was some painfully slow Austen adaptation. She padded barefoot toward the door like a woman on a mission.

“Anyway,” she said, brushing past her mom like she wasn’t doing reconnaissance for a covert operation of her own making. “Mom just finished making dinner. You should come eat with us!”

You would have thought she threw a live grenade between the two of them. Mom opened her mouth to object. Jack looked startled, like he hadn’t even considered that was an option.

Come on. Don’t blow this, you two. We’re so close to Phase Three.

They hesitated, because of course they did. Abby could practically hear the gears grinding in their mutually repressed brains.

Mom opened her mouth at the exact same moment Jack said, “I should probably—”

“You don’t have to—”

They both stopped. Jack gave a half-laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

“No, it’s okay, I was just saying—”

Fools.

“I don’t want to intrude,” Jack said.

“You wouldn’t be,” Mom added at the same time.

Oh my god. Somebody sedate me. This brutal.

Another pause. They blinked at each other.

Jack gestured vaguely behind him. “I should probably get going, though.”

Mom nodded way too fast. “Right, yes, of course—”

Jesus Christ. And they let you two morons be doctors? Does she have to do everything in this house?

“Oh, come on. You’re already here,” Abby threw in for good measure. She would not let these two blow this. She was too invested. “And Mom always makes, like, way too much. Right, Mom?”

Damn. If looks could kill, Mom would have struck her dead right there. Before Abby could metaphorically poke them with a stick again, they launched into another round of rambled buffoonery.

“But—unless you—”

“I mean, if it’s not a bother—”

“You absolutely do not have to,” Mom said, breathless, like she was yanking on the emergency brake of her own heart. “Please don’t feel like you have to just because she asked.”

Jack paused and took a long breath before he spoke again. “No. I’d… like to,” he said softly.

Mom froze. “Oh,” she breathed. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Jack echoed.

Okay, Abby thought, resisting the urge to fist-pump in slow motion . Okay, okay, okay. Let’s fucking go. She smiled sweetly and gestured toward the entryway like she was the maître d’ at an exclusive, very emotionally complicated restaurant.

“See? Look at that. It’s giving healthy communication.” She turned to Jack, all plausible deniability and carefully crafted bullshit. “Come on in, Doctor Mullet.”

He stepped through the door and gave a quiet “Thanks,” before crouching to greet Atlas, who immediately lost his mind with joy. Oh, you are so very welcome, Doctor Mullet. You don’t know the half of it yet.

Mom closed the door behind him and looked like she might either pass out or throw up. Possibly both. Abby just grinned. Performance of a lifetime, honestly. Someone should call Hollywood after her little stint at the door. It was Oscar-worthy, really. Meryl Streep who? Never heard of her.

Abby knew the second Jack crossed the threshold into the entryway and Atlas launched himself into a full-body wiggle attack that she had exactly five seconds to enjoy this victory before Mom’s wrath found her.

Four seconds.

Three.

And… there it was.

The Look.

From the glare that was currently burning a hole straight through her skull as Jack stepped past Mom into the house, Abby gathered that maybe, just maybe, her mother did not appreciate the success of Phase Two quite as much as she did.

Jack didn’t notice, of course. He was too busy getting absolutely wrecked by Atlas, who launched a full-scale nose-first assault on his kneecaps like a dog who had never seen a man before and had decided this one was now his soulmate.

Mom, however, noticed. Oh, she noticed everything. She didn’t say a word, but her jaw tightened, and her eyes cut sideways to Abby with all the warmth of a Siberian winter.

Abby smiled sweetly. Mom narrowed her eyes and lifted one hand without even looking at her, signing in sharp, annoyed strokes:

I know what you’re doing, you little monster.

Abby clutched her chest, offended. Moi?

She signed back, I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mommy Dearest. I’m just using good manners like you taught me, with a flutter of her fingers that somehow managed to look both angelic and smug at the same time. Mom’s sign back was not as dainty. It was quite rude, actually. But she let it slide.

Mom’s glare deepened as Jack stood to his full height, stepping fully inside the living room while trying not to be tripped by his new Velcro dog best friend. Abby could feel the second-hand embarrassment radiating off her like heat from a toaster oven. She was fairly certain she could fry an egg on the heat of Mom’s full-body blush alone.

Yeah, yeah. She got it. She was pissed.

But Abby knew, just knew, that she wasn’t mad that he was here. No, no. She was mad that he was here while she was in her Adam Sandler clothes.

But her little long lost boyfriend hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of her since she opened the door. So… Pop off, Adam Sandler.

Atlas ended up being her saving grace before Mom could fully light her ass up in ASL.

Jack straightened up with a final pat to Atlas’s side. Atlas immediately took offense, huffing a dramatic whine and bumping his big Lego-brick head into Jack’s legs. Mom caught him by the collar just in time, her fingers curling gently around it before he could knock the guy over.

“Sorry,” she muttered, tugging him back. “He forgets how big he is. He thinks that he’s a lap dog most days.”

“That’s alright,” Jack said, crouching again to meet the dog’s insistent whines with a few solid head scritches. “He’s just saying hello, aren’t ya, big guy?”

Abby let out a small, pleased hum. Dog person and he had a stupid voice he reserved for animals? She could go ahead and check that off the Not a Total Garbage Person list.

Doctor Mullet: 1. Hoodie Guy: 0. He gave off cat dad energy anyway. And she was allergic to cats, so. Sucks to suck, Hoodie Guy and your unconfirmed cat.

Atlas melted under the ear rubs and leaned his full weight into Jack, one hind leg twitching like a stuck motor. Jack grinned at the reaction and kept scratching. Mom tried not to smile, but Abby caught it; just the barest tug at the corner of her mouth. She must have been checking off the list too, though she’d never admit it.

“Oh, congratulations,” Mom said dryly, arms crossing again. “You’ve just guaranteed yourself a shadow for the night.”

Jack chuckled, unbothered. “I’ve had worse. What’s this big guy’s name?”

“That’s Atlas,” Abby chimed in, giving his head a quick pat. “Mom named him after the—”

“The Titan, right?” Jack looked up, then shifted his gaze to Mom. “That’s the one who held up the sky, yeah? Or am I remembering it wrong?”

Mom nodded once and her expression softened, just barely. “No, that’s…that’s right.”

Jack looked back up at Abby, looking rather pleased with himself over what was absolutely not his recollection of a few old stories. He gave Atlas a few more firm pats against his side like he was checking for ripeness. God, why do all middle-aged white guys pet dogs like that? It’s weirdly aggressive. But, Atty didn’t seem to mind.

“Your mom always had a thing for Greek mythology,” Jack added casually. “Probably told me the same stories a million times when we were your age.”

Mom’s mouth twitched again just barely. But this time, she didn’t fight the smile off quite as fast. Surely, that wasn’t the only thing she had a thing for. Abby raised an eyebrow, watching the faint, startled little shift in her mom’s posture that dropped her shoulders a little.

Well, well, well. Doctor Mullet came armed with nostalgia. Good. Keep reminiscing. 

Abby flopped over the arm of the couch in a dramatic heap. It usually earned a pointed look from Mom, which she got, but she ignored it. There was no time for Mom Looks. She had maybe five minutes before Phase Three of this forced dinner really kicked in. She needed to prepare while she still could. She opened Spotify and scrolled with purpose. Where was it? She swore she saved that playlist on the drive home…

“She wanted to name me Andromeda,” Abby said, without looking up. “My dad said no. Thank God.”

Jack let out a low laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”

Abby smiled to herself and stopped scrolling. She didn’t need to look at him to know he was glancing toward Mom. She could hear it in his tone; the soft dip into something nostalgic, like he’d just been handed a piece of the past wrapped in tinfoil and still warm.

Abby smiled down at her screen, satisfaction blooming in her chest. Ah! There it is! She stopped her scrolling and tapped into the playlist. Now, to listen and wait. She made herself look busy while she scrolled through the playlist, adding songs to her queue like she was trying to crack a code. 

Jack straightened up again when Atty decided he’d had enough attention, not because Abby had quietly patted the side of the couch to call him over and remove the sixty-pound roadblock from this absolute car wreck. Atty lumbered over and hopped up onto the couch beside her, curled up, and sighed contently when Abby kissed his nose. Well done, old man. You played your part beautifully. 

There was a moment of quiet that felt like another person in the room before Mom spoke.

“So…” she said softly, “The Leanne Baker rule, huh?”

Abby tilted her head with a little shrug; she wouldn’t necessarily bring Grandma up while trying to flirt, but Mom was at least trying. Abby moved I Love You, I’m Sorry higher up on the queue. No. Too on the nose. Delete. Crap, what songs do old people like? Think, Abby, think. 

Jack let out a soft chuckle that seemed way too fond for something as trivial as Grandma’s no-scrubs-in-the-house rule, but it was something. Something was good. Keep the somethings coming.

“Thought I’d give it a try,” he said. 

“Yeah? How’s it working for you?”

Another long pause. “Not sure yet.”

Abby almost shot up at the quiet way Jack murmured out the words, but she kept herself glued to the seat. That had nothing to do with scrubs. That was way too much murmuring for it to be about scrubs. Something was happening and she was missing it. She subtly sat up straighter, shifting just enough to get a better look without tipping them off and caught the tail end of Mom smiling and—wait, was she blushing? Aw. Gross. Do it again.

Jack returned Mom’s smile, eyes scanning over her again before they flicked toward the entryway. Specifically, to the jacket on the hook. It was Mom’s old denim one that she always wore. The one Abby was pretty sure had predated her by at least a decade and a half and Mom had on in every formative memory Abby had. Soft at the seams, patched in two places, and old enough to legally drink. She once asked Mom why she didn’t just donate it, and she didn’t answer. Just sat there and looked at it the same way Jack looked at it now. His gaze lingered just a second too long. His jaw tightened just barely. Not enough to be obvious, not enough that anyone would notice.

Except Abby noticed. Because Abby noticed everything. She didn’t say anything though, the same way Mom didn’t say anything when she also saw him look at it and immediately pretended she hadn’t.

God. The two of them were like watching a cold war play out in real-time, only with more yearning and fewer treaties. Tragic.

Mom cleared her throat and looked away, scanning the living room with the wild-eyed urgency of someone trying to clean up a crime scene after the cops were already knocking. Mom moved through the room like she was trying to erase all evidence that they lived here. She started scooping up shoes, fluffing pillows, folding a blanket that had been crumpled in the same corner of the couch for three days.

“Sorry about the mess,” she said over her shoulder, too breezy to be believable. “It usually doesn’t look like this.”

“Why are you lying?” Abby replied without looking up from her phone. “It literally always looks like this.”

“Abby.”

“Oh no, God forbid people know we sit.”

Jack chuckled, but the glare Mom shot her could have incinerated small villages. Abby met it with a serene, exaggerated smile and an innocent flutter of her lashes, still draped dramatically across the couch like a sassy Renaissance cherub. Was pissing Mom off on purpose always this fun? She should do it more often. Not that she didn’t already, but she should do it more.

“Get your stuff off the table, please,” Mom said tightly, now fluffing a pillow with more force than necessary.

Before Abby could move, or offer another sarcastic retort, Jack was already stepping toward the table.

“I got it,” he said. “She should sit.”

Mom opened her mouth to protest. “You really don’t have—”

“She’s the one with the broken leg,” Jack interjected, already gathering shopping bags and tucking loose articles of clothing into them. “I can handle a few bags.”

“Wow, chivalry isn’t dead after all,” Abby mumbled, fighting a smile when Jack snorted softly.

Mom hovered for a moment, like she might insist again out of sheer indignance, but Jack gave her a half-smile as he as snagged a Nike bag off the table. “Really, Beth. It’s fine.”

Mom hesitated, and then relented with a soft exhale and a hand brushing lightly against his arm. “Thanks.” Abby clocked it. The arm touch. The smile that almost made it to her mom’s eyes. The casual gratitude.

Ladies and gentlemen: first physical contact has entered the chat.

Mom turned towards the kitchen, mumbling something about plates and getting him something to drink. Abby grinned to herself and turned her attention to her phone. Her playlist was ready. Stage set. Vibes calibrated. Phase Three: Forced Dinner was on the horizon. The trap was set. All she had to do now was let them walk into it.

“Jesus,” Jack said, eyeing the haul spread across the table that remained after his hands were already full. “You two leave anything for the rest of the mall, or was this a full-scale raid?”

“Blame the child,” Beth called from the kitchen, her voice light but stretched thin. “Apparently, nothing from last year is acceptable anymore. It’s an annual affair.”

“I’m incredibly spoiled,” Abby chimed in, not looking up from her phone. She tapped to another song. Who the fuck is Jewel? Is that a band or a person? Whatever. It didn’t matter; it came out in ‘95, so to the playlist it went. She added the song to the queue. “That’s why I behave like this.”

Jack let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Where do you want all of this, House?”

She didn’t answer right away. She was waiting. Listening. The current song was seconds from ending, and when it did, she flicked her phone’s Bluetooth on, booted Mom off the Alexa, and hit play on her playlist. The music shifted, louder now, echoing in from the kitchen speaker. There. Mood set.

“Stairs is fine,” she said flatly, feigning boredom.

“Copy that.”

Jack turned, arms full, but something on the table snagged his attention. He bent slightly, eyes catching on the beat-up hardcover with post-it flags sticking out like feathers that was her AP history assignment. He picked it up, turning it over with a curious raise of his brow.

“Didn’t think your mom was much of a nonfiction reader.”

Abby didn’t look up from her phone. “She’s not. That’s mine. Mom only reads the same two books on repeat like she’s in some kind of sci-fi Groundhog Day.”

Jack turned the book over in his hand and smirked. “Let me guess. Dune and Foundation until the spine disintegrates?”

“That was one time, Jack!” Beth called from the kitchen, with that specific tone that meant she was trying not to be mad about being rightfully accused. “And I read more than just those two books, Abigail.”

Abby looked up then, rolling her eyes before she called back. “The sequels of those books don’t count, Mom.”

Jack bit back a laugh as he looked to Abby with a conspiratorial shake of his head. “It was more than one time,” he told her, reading the back of the book before he set it down.

Mom reappeared in the kitchen doorway with a clean plate in hand and a look that could only be described as resigned maternal indignation. “You two keep making fun of me,” she said, gesturing between them with the plate. She tried to glare, but her lips twitched, “but I’ll have you both know that Asimov was a—”

“Genius,” Abby and Jack said together, already groaning. They shared a sidelong glance and Jack gave her an exaggerated roll of his eyes before he stepped away from the table. Abby smirked. She had to admit, he was growing on her. Asshole respects asshole, Doctor Mullet. 

Abby raised a hand in mock solemnity. “The father of modern science fiction. We know. We’ve all been blessed by the gospel of Beth.”

“So, The Battle of the Bulge, huh?” Jack asked, clearly trying to win back a few Mom Points with a subject change. Smart. 

He nodded toward the book as he came back in for another round of her stuff, moving through the room like he’d lived there for years. It was weirdly domestic, but Abby knew what he was doing; this wasn’t just helpful. He was trying to impress Mom, obviously. Playing the part of the good little helper for her injured kid like he might earn a gold star. And sure, it was a little transparent. But it was also… weirdly kind of sweet. From the way Mom peeked in from the kitchen just as Jack leaned casually on the back of the couch, Abby figured she thought so too. 

“Is that for school?” he asked.

Abby didn’t look at him right away. She dropped her phone to her chest, thumb hovering over the pause button of the playlist she was carefully orchestrating in the background. Operation: Wallet Drop’s third phase had officially begun from the sound of plates clinking in the kitchen, and Phase Three was delicate work. Timing was key, and so was the careful song progression from wistful to yearning that she was building brick by brick. It was totally going to ruin her algorithm, but that was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

“AP U.S. History,” she said with a sigh. “I have to finish it and write an essay about whether the Allied success was more about military strategy or environmental factors.”

Jack lit up like someone had just dared him to mansplain politely. “Oh, strategy all the way. If it hadn’t been for the 101st’s stand at Bastogne and Patton sending the Third Army to—”

“Oh my God, you would know that off the top of your head,” Abby interrupted, laughing as she shook her head and picked her phone back up.

Jack straightened slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she said with a little shrug. “You just look like a guy who knows a lot about World War Two.”

Jack gave her a long look, like he couldn’t decide if he’d just been complimented or insulted. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re an old white dude,” Abby said without looking up from her phone. “Of course you have a weird fascination with one of the World Wars. It’s, like, a genetic trait.”

“I’m not that old,” Jack said indignantly. “I’m the same age as your mom.”

“Yeah, and you both predate the Internet. You’re practically ancient,” Abby muttered, adding Landslide to the playlist and bumping it higher in the queue.

“And I do not have a ‘weird fascination’,” Jack continued, ignoring the slander. “I just find it incredibly interesting how the Allies were able to—”

“Lame,” Abby said flatly. “Please, finish that sentence. You’re just proving me right.”

“Abby,” Mom called from the kitchen, in that half-warning, half-worn-out mom voice. “Leave him alone.”

Jack chuckled under his breath, victorious, and Abby rolled her eyes. “Thought school hadn’t started yet?”

“It hasn’t,” Abby said, quickly scanning over her lyrical cultivation a final time. She nodded slightly in approval; brick by brick, baby. “It’s summer work.”

“Really? They give you work over the summer now? They never did that when I was in school.”

“They did, Jack,” Mom called from the kitchen, dry as ever. “I just did all of it for you while we were at work.”

Jack blinked, then let out a short laugh. “That’s what you were doing up there?”

“I didn’t just spend my whole shift flirting with you, Jack. Some of us were actually working.”

Abby snorted. Something settled over Jack that lived somewhere between getting got and quiet recollection. A crash of dishes pulled his attention toward the kitchen. “Need help in there?”

“Nope,” Mom said almost way too quickly. She waved a hand toward the table without turning around. “You two sit down. It’s already done.”

Jack hovered for a second like he might ignore that and step in anyway, but eventually relented. Abby shifted to get up from the couch, tucking her phone beside her. Jack moved first, already a step ahead and reaching out without thinking. He offered a hand, casual and matter-of-fact. Abby rolled her eyes before she took it and used it to steady herself as she stood, more out of a desire not to be in pain than anything else. You could take a doctor out of the hospital, but you apparently couldn’t stop them from treating everything like a team lift.

He let go as soon as she was upright, already turning toward the table like it didn’t mean anything, but Abby noticed the way her mom did too, glancing up just in time to catch the tail end of it before quickly looking away again. 

Mom was already setting plates by the time they made it to the table. Abby plopped into her seat, still rearranging her playlist like it was a bomb she was defusing. Mom set Jack’s plate down first, then turned toward Abby with a pointed look.

“Phone away,” she said, eyes flicking down to the tabletop. “You know the rule.”

Abby sighed but obeyed, tucking it screen-down next to her plate. She was done anyway. Landslide was queued up next. Right on schedule.

As Mom leaned over to hand Abby her plate, her free hand landed lightly on Jack’s shoulder for balance. It was completely absent, totally automatic. Until it wasn’t. Abby fought the squeak of meddling delight that sat in her throat.

Two touches?! Two??

Jack definitely noticed. Abby caught the flicker of something like surprise on his face, though it felt a little too soft around the edges. And then Mom seemed to realize it, too. She pulled her hand back like she’d just touched an open flame, her cheeks burning pink. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, already turning away, disappearing into the kitchen again under the flimsy excuse of retrieving her own plate.

Abby bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning. Two touches. Two . And Mom had flinched like she’d been caught red-handed. Mom stepped into the kitchen just as the opening notes of Landslide drifted in. She paused, just for a breath, then picked up her plate like it hadn’t shaken her.

Bingo. Abby smirked. What’s wrong, Mom? Are you afraid of changes? Too bad.

Emotional trap set, bait taken, and snap . Her plan was going better than expected. Damn, she was good. People were going to study this operation some day. This was the romantic feat of the century.

She settled in her seat and glanced across the table, just in time to catch Jack eyeing the doorway where Mom had vanished, but he didn’t pick up his fork. Didn’t move for his drink. Just sat there, patiently, like he was waiting for something. She would have found it entirely strange if she hadn’t been doing it too. He didn’t start eating until Mom returned and sat down beside him. Abby hid her smile with a forkful of pasta. Grandpa would like that. That was always his rule; he didn’t eat until Grandma sat down. 

Doctor Mullet: 2. Hoodie Guy: zilch. 

Then—nothing.

Nobody spoke for what felt like decades.

Painful, aching silence. The kind that made Abby suddenly hyper-aware of how loud her own breathing was. And chewing. Though, Jack didn’t chew nearly as obnoxiously as Ed had, so that was another point on the scoreboard in his favor.

She glanced between them. God. These two were so emotionally constipated.

Fine. If they weren’t going to talk, she’d just have to be the laxative.

She grimaced. Okay. She didn’t love that metaphor. She’d revisit it later.

“Jack told me Grandpa gave you a speeding ticket,” Abby said casually, twirling her fork into her pasta like this was just polite dinner talk. “I thought you said you’d never been pulled over before?”

Beth shot a look up at Jack, who kept his eyes forward, looking at Abby like she’d just accused him of murder. “Did he now?”

Jack let out a soft groan. “Christ, kid. Are you going to at least slow the bus down before you throw me under it?”

“I cannot believe Grandpa never told me that,” Abby said, eyes wide with delighted betrayal. “I begged him for embarrassing stories about you when I lived with them. Begged. And I got absolutely nothing about his perfect doctor daughter. Finally, someone pulls the veil back on Elizabeth Baker!”

Jack chuckled under his breath. Abby caught the way his expression shifted, just briefly, at the word lived before he recovered.

Mom made a sound that was mostly exasperation and maybe just a little bit amused. “Did Jack also mention that I wasn’t actually speeding, and that Grandpa clocked me while he was driving in the opposite direction?”

Jack snorted. “You’re still selling yourself that?”

“I’m not selling anything!” Mom shot back, her words stumbling into a laugh. “I was not speeding.”

“You drove like a bat outta hell, Baker.”

“Hmm,” Mom said, a little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Pretty sure that was you. I was a great driver. Still am.”

Abby leaned back in her chair, quietly pleased. Call her MiraLAX, because things were finally moving.

Jack gestured with his glass, not even trying to hide his grin. “If you were such a great driver, Baker, then what happened with Atkinson’s car?”

Beth’s fork froze halfway to her mouth, shooting daggers up at Jack who just kept smiling. “Do not tell her that one.”

“Oh my god, tell me, ” Abby said, practically vibrating with glee. Forcing her mom into a weird dinner with a guy she obviously still had a thing for and Abby got embarrassing stories about her out of it too? Jackpot. This was better than anything she imagined on the drive home from the hospital.

“Alright,” Jack said, leaning back like he’d just been handed a mic. “High school. School parking lot's empty. Your mom was still there for cheer practice or some shit–.”

“It was debate team practice.”

Jack side-eyed her with a smirk. “Oh, excuse me. Debate practice; like you needed any help with that. Thanks for interrupting, nerd. Anyway, there’s only one car parked anywhere nearby. The vice principal’s sedan, just sitting there, minding its own business in the row behind your mom. Probably four spots down. And your mom, Queen of Spatial Awareness, throws it in reverse and just—wham. Right into it.”

Mom groaned and dropped her face into her hands, but she was already laughing. “That is not how it happened.”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Jack said, nudging her with his elbow. “There was one car to avoid and you managed to hit it.”

Mom gave his arm a light swat. Oop. Touch three. “He was parked too far forward!”

“Oh, cut the shit, Baker. You didn’t even look, ” Jack said, laughing. “You just slammed it into reverse and hoped God was watching for you.”

“I was sixteen!” she protested, sitting up straight, wine glass in hand. “And I did look!”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Looked directly through it.”

Mom shook her head, but her smile tugged wider, real now. She took a sip of wine, her elbow still resting against Jack’s. Neither of them jumped away from each other like they had on Touch #2. So… Touch #4? Kind of? Abby watched them continue to bicker, though there was zero bite to it. Her mother’s cheeks were pink and glowing, and Jack hadn’t stopped looking at her since the story started. Abby didn’t even care that she wasn’t getting a word in anymore. She was counting it. Touch #4.

There we go. Now we’re talkin’. Let’s go for five, folks. Keep walking down memory lane.

The laughter settled into a warm hum around the table until the song on the kitchen speaker changed. It started slow, just a few low guitar chords and a female voice that sounded like she was singing directly into a diary. Abby didn’t recognize it, but the vibe shift was instant.

Both Mom and Jack went still. Not dramatically, not all at once, but their postures subtly straightened. Jack’s hand, which had just been gesturing with his fork, suddenly became very invested in corralling a lone penne across his plate. Mom took a long sip of wine and avoided everyone’s eyes… except Jack’s. For a fraction of a second, her gaze flicked sideways.

Jack looked up. Not directly at her, exactly. Just…vaguely in her direction; like he was pretending to be more at the photo hanging beside her, the one of Mom in her denim jacket holding Abby as a baby at the Garden of the Gods, like maybe it had just become the most fascinating thing in the room. But his jaw shifted just enough to betray something.

Interesting.

Abby blinked, curiosity flaring. Okay, what was that? Something happened. Now what? And why? And how can it happen, like, six more times tonight?

She slowly slid her phone toward her, eyes still on the two people across the table now very invested in not looking at each other, and checked the screen.

Jewel – “You Were Meant For Me.”

Abby raised an eyebrow. Noted. Thanks, Jewel. The band or person. Whatever you are. She pushed her phone aside, lifted her fork, and made no comment as Jack cleared his throat and Mom took another drink; this time, a far bigger one.

Jack cleared his throat and finally looked at Mom. “Didn’t know you moved back home. How long were you with your folks?”

“She didn’t. Just me,” Abby said, twirling her fork. “I stayed with Grandma and Grandpa while Mom was in New York during the pandemic.”

Jack looked over, eyebrows lifted the way people usually did when Abby dropped that little nugget of humble-brag on them. “Shit… You went? When?”

Mom gave a small nod. “Right at the start of everything. Just for four months. March to June.”

“Where were you?”

“Brooklyn,” she said. “One of my girlfriends from med school works at Methodist. They needed people, so I went on a deployment contract and stayed with her. It was…” 

Mom went quiet, and Abby immediately regretted bringing it up. She didn’t talk much about New York. It was like she didn’t have the words for that time, like the story had hardened into silence. 

Abby remembered the FaceTime calls. The ones from the hospital break room where respirator marks curled around a smile that never really looked like hers. She always said she was fine, even though her eyes always looked like she was crying. That everything was fine. That she couldn’t wait to take Abby there when it was all over before she’d change the subject and ask Abby what she had done with her grandparents that day.

“I’m glad I went,” she said finally. 

Jack’s eyes were already on her, but he didn’t say anything.  He didn’t nod. Didn’t smile. Just kept looking at her in that quiet way that said he got it. Like he remembered the kind of person she was. Like maybe he had never forgotten.

Abby felt the strange prickle of something private happening in front of her, like she wasn’t meant to be there for this part, but also wouldn’t have missed it for anything. She was finally getting to the good part. Yes, Doctor Mullet. Look at my amazing, selfless, gorgeous mom. Look at what you missed out on. Keep looking at her like you don’t want to miss anything else.

Mom finally glanced over at Jack, just briefly, then back down at her plate. Abby could’ve sworn she was holding her breath.

“That sounds like you,” he said softly. “You were always like that.”

“Like what?”

“Brave.”

Oh damn. Should she excuse herself? She felt like she needed to. Especially when Mom’s eyes dropped to her plate, away from Jack’s gaze. Was this a moment? Were they having a moment? Oh my god, this is a moment. This was better than the Jewel-the-band-or-person thing. Maybe she should humble-brag about Mom more often if it meant handsome doctors looked at her like they were in an episode of Bridgerton.

Atlas padded over to the table and plopped onto his butt beside her, his head resting in her lap and tail thumping against the hardwood like a heartbeat. Abby leaned back into her chair and absently scratched his head, listening to Jack ask Mom a question about New York—and suddenly, the conversation she’d had to drag out of them started back up without a hitch.

You’re very welcome, idiots.

She wasn’t even sure when she stopped being a participant in the conversation. One second she was pulling teeth to get someone to say something, and the next, she needed to interject less and less, like she was being gently phased out. A guest star in a bottle episode.

They were talking. Like, actually talking. About Mom’s med school days in San Francisco and how she toured the Lucasfilm lobby, like, three times and drove five hours to Redwood National Park so she could walk through Endor (because of course she did). About Jack’s first deployment. Their residency horror stories. Story after story, back and forth like they’d rehearsed this in a different lifetime. She could’ve sworn she saw Mom’s posture relax. Jack’s eyes soften. At one point, they both laughed at the same time, and it wasn’t even awkward or mismatched; it was in sync. And adorable. How dare they.

It was like watching two planets slowly drift back into the same orbit, and Abby was just out here in the cold with her pasta and questions. She didn’t mind. Not one bit.

She watched Mom rest her chin on her fist, a slow, quiet smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as Jack gestured through another story, clearly enjoying whatever part of it Abby had missed. And he kept glancing at her mom in that quiet, unwavering way, like she was a book he used to know by heart and hadn’t realized how badly he’d missed rereading.

There wasn’t anything happening happening. Not technically. But it also felt like something was . Just not for her, but for something that lived in the spaces between their words, in glances and pauses and the exact way her mom tucked her hair behind her ear when she thought no one was looking.

But what she really paid attention to, more than the stories, the laughter, even the way Mom smiled, was the way Jack watched her.

It wasn’t obvious. Well, it was obvious. But not in a flashing-lights-and-arrows kind of way. It was quiet. Careful. Like he didn’t want to look too long but couldn’t help himself. Like he was checking for something; damage, distance, an opening. And every now and then, when Mom wasn’t looking, he’d just… settle. Like seeing her again undid something in him the same it seemed to in Mom.

And maybe that’s what scared Abby the most.

Because Mom wasn’t going to say anything if it had. She never did. She was good at that, letting people think that she didn’t need anyone. Letting people think that she was fine. Letting Abby think she was fine. And, okay, maybe she was fine. Maybe she did like her nights alone on the couch with a glass of wine and Law and Order: SVU and her true crime podcasts and her books she’s read a million times. Maybe alone was better. But maybe being alone had just started to feel easier than hoping for something else. Maybe alone was easier than being left. Abby knew what it was like to be left, too, and what it was like to pretend it didn’t matter. It wasn’t better. It wasn’t easier. 

Her mom had done that for a long time. She said she was fine—always just fine—with that shrug like she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. But at least she had Abby. She had someone to eat dinner with, and to remind her to eat after the hard shifts. Someone to sit with on the couch when it rained and the power went out. Someone to say goodnight to. Abby had always been the one person who made it feel less lonely; who made the house a little fuller, the quiet a little softer.

But soon she’d be leaving. College. Dorms. A new life. Now Mom would only have that over summers and holidays until college became med school and med school became residency and a life that would no longer orbit around this house. Soon, it would be just Mom again. Alone. 

She hated the thought of her mom coming home to an empty house. A too-quiet living room. A TV left on just for the sound of it. She’d say that she didn’t mind. She’d say that it was good for Abby, that she was proud, that she liked the quiet. But Abby knew better. Mom had already spent too many years filling silences no one else heard. Her mom was good at being alone, but that didn’t mean Abby wanted her to be. She shouldn’t have to be. And from the way Mom looked at Jack? She didn’t want to be lonely anymore either. Not really. 

So, call it what you want. Matchmaking, manipulation, emotional sabotage. She didn’t care. She was going to make this happen. Whatever it took until these two dumbasses figured it out themselves.

She was going to Parent Trap the shit out of this.

…Wait. Was it still considered a Parent Trap if only one of them was your actual parent, the other was her high school ex-boyfriend, and you didn’t have a secret twin?

Whatever. Semantics.

She was going to Kinda-Parent Trap the shit out of this.

[temis-de-leon]

Day 21 - Comforting while crying kiss

Characters: Solomon x fem!MC

25 kisses challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

CW: college anxiety, memories about bad friends, worried Solomon, established relationship

A/N: not the most relatable because I made it as a continuation for this, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless <3

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Studying in the human real again wasn’t something she ever thought would become a reality, especially when she didn’t want to do it at all, but she should’ve learnt long ago that no thing in life was impossible.

Her best friends, if not her only friends, were demons and angels; she was dating King Solomon the Wise. Going back to college should not feel that weird.

And yet.

There she was, sitting on her ankles in a hidden corner under the staircase of the main entrance. The heat of June burned her hair and made her cupid’s bow sweat, but it was the stress of finals what made her feel feverish. Her backpack laid pathetically near her, the zipper opened enough to let her see some crumpled papers full of scribbles and a couple of pens with no caps.

It was draining. Sitting alone at the table, remembering the presence of those who left her behind laughing at her jokes and helping her study, acting like true friends when God knows what they were saying behind her back. The tiles of the floor and the graffiti on the benches remained the same, but the walls were different and the buildings had gone through some serious renovations. What hurt her the most, surprisingly, was the sight of the brand new cafeteria, which now looked like a hospital ward.

MC’s lips trembled at the thought of change and evolution, of coming so far just to return to the same place that made her feel so lonely.

First periods on Mondays, back when she was eighteen, were hectic. The hallways were cold and the elevator was always occupied because a blind guy with his guide dog had to go to the last floor and whoever decided to be stubborn and wait for the elevator to be free was always late to class. One of the coffee machines forever remained out of service and the other one only had one flavour worth paying: hazelnut. MC didn’t even like coffee and still bought a couple of those every now and then.

The blind guy already graduated, she supposed. Both coffee machines worked and they even had other vending machines filling the empty spaces of the hallways. Warm hallways, that is. The Styrofoam cups didn’t smell like hazelnut anymore, but rather something more generic and impersonal.

MC couldn’t recognize the scent and it made her mad. It made her cry. And the foolishness of the situation made her cry even harder.

Her weeping filled the corner she was hiding in and she felt incredibly grateful that the evening classes had already started, but not much time would pass until anyone inside would open the windows in search of any possible breeze.

Determined to not let the damn building see her cry more than necessary, MC grabbed her things and pitifully walked down the street, looking at the flowers with deep yearning like she too wished she was buried underground and left alone to absorb light and look pretty.

Fortunately for her mood, her phone vibrated in her pocket and showed a very familiar name. She tried to swallow tears and clear her voice before answering.

“Is everything okay, MC?”

She’d never fool him.

Solomon sounded extremely worried. The sheer surprise at his reaction made her stop in her tracks to wonder just how much he knew her. Before she could ponder about it too much, however, someone near her called her name.

There he was, sitting on the hood of a car that MC knew wasn’t his. He called her once more to urge her and, thankfully, by the time she reached him the crying had already stopped. Her skin felt sticky with sweat and fallen tears and she felt an incipient headache threatening to break her mind.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah”

She forced herself to swallow, hating the blockage in her nose, and Solomon looked at her in pity, clearly wanting to console without going too far.

“You know you can trust me, right?”

His eyes turned sad and MC felt the familiar sting in the back of her throat. Although her first impulse was to continue denying her pain and leave the whole thing behind, she knew that if she didn’t ask her boyfriend, of all people, to take care of her, then the turmoil would become much worse.

“I do” she assured him, holding his hand in slow movements. He immediately held her back and her eyes watered again “I’m just really tired, you know?”

There, under the sun, where no one was there to see the scene, Solomon opened his arms and sighed when she rushed towards him. MC tried to ignore the tears staining his white coat, hugging him instead to hide from the rest of the world. There was a gentle pressure on top of her head, a soft kiss that made her shoulders relax and lean into him further.

“Do you want to go back home? Take a nap?”

MC didn’t know what home he was talking about, but she didn’t care. Without letting him go, she nodded against his chest and made herself comfortable. Home was wherever as long as he was there with her.

.

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Taglist: @ourfinalisation  @owlisbuffering  @chizukimp4  @ravenredwine @darkflowerav  @craftysclown @mehkers

[mister-inconsistency]

Son of Nobody

Do you guys ever thin about the fact that Telemachus thought his father died?

Like, do you think a 10 y/o Telemachus saw the fleet of ships approaching and thought his dad was, finally, finally coming home? Only to have his hopes completely crushed as everyone in Ithaca and their predecessors saw as the storm dragged the fleet away?

Do you ever think about the fact that he wanted to belive his dad was alive, surely, because It was prophesied that he would return, however an there's always a little Voice whispering in his ears saying he's waiting for the ghost of someone he never knew?

Do you ever think he'd stay nights awake, pondering and fighting with his own thoughts because sure it was said that his father was alive but what if- what if something happend? What if his life was already done? What if all the suitors were right and his mom wrong? What if? What if? What if?

Do you think he's plagged by Nightmares of his father dying, and his mom Breaking down, crying and weeping and unconsolable as the suitors get more and more ruthless?

Or maybe He'd plagged by dreams. Dreams where his dad managed to get home years ago, where the storm never happend, where he got to spend a small part of his childhood with his father. And those dreams are just as cruel, if not worse than his nightmares because he's yearning for something so out of his reach.

Do you think he mourned for the loss of a father he never knew?

Do you think when he went searching for news of his father on his diplomatic mission, that maybe he wanted to hear Odysseus was dead, that he was already gone. Because then he at least would know where his father is. Because then hoping wouldn't hurt so much. Or maybe he wanted to hear that Odysseus was alive.

That he was coming home, coming to them.

He didn't know what he wanted.

Do you think Telemachus would be upset that his dad took so long? While also happy, because it took long but Odysseus is here. In his arm.

Do you think Telemachus now smiles brightly at being called "Son of Odysseus" because he's no longer the son of a "dead" man, the mirror of a stranger who he can't recall the face.

Do you think when he was younger, he thought of himself as "Nobody's" son, because mom was there. And don't get him wrong, he absolutely loves his mom with every fiber of his body. But it's different.

Because you have

Nestor of Pylos, son of Nelaus.

Peisistratus of Pylos, son of Nestor.

Antinous of Ithaca, Son of Eupeithes.

And he's was just..

Telemachus of Ithaca, son of Nobody.

Because no matter how much people talked about his father, Telemachus held no such foundness for being Odysseus son to be something relevant.

But not anymore.

Do you think about it?

I think about it alot.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

May I request Ace with Y , X , S , N , M and A please?

The limit is 5, but since I already answered A and N in another post, I'll let it go lol

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Answered here.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Yes, Ace's darling absolutely gets special treatment in terms of how he behaves around them. Other people will definitely be able to see that he loves and adores you, but to them Ace just looks like a normal boyfriend. In general, he comes off like a pretty friendly and reasonable guy. No one would ever suspect his yandere side or how messy his emotions can get.

When he's alone with you, everything is more intense and raw. His confidence is largely gone and you see how uncertain he truly is in life. You are the only person that he'll fully confide in, so you'll know him much more intimately than anyone else could ever hope to. He isn't even this open and honest with Luffy.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Answered here.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

His childhood and the issues that he's carried with him ever since those days are the reason he's like this. Even with his brothers around, he always had this gnawing loneliness from feeling like he was a uniquely evil individual because of who his father is. When your own grandfather can't even look you in the eye and tell you that you deserve to be alive, that is going to ruin your psyche. If you aren't worthy of life, obviously you aren't worthy of love.

But then he finds someone that loves him. Despite everything, his darling can love someone as monstrous as him? It doesn't matter if you haven't said it. Actions speak louder than words, so you being generally kind and loving when you two first meet is enough to have him feeling like he's found his soulmate. He's sure that he'll never get this lucky again, so of course he'll never let you go.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

This man worships the ground you walk on and cherishes the air you breathe. You're everything to him. You're a perfect angel that gives him the sweet comfort of someone to have and to hold, heart and soul. Someone that gives him something so precious only deserves the best treatment possible.

Before he takes you, he's pulling out all the stops to get you to come with him willingly. He'll be giving you gifts and bringing you on dates while only displaying his best qualities. Ace can be extremely endearing and charming, so there is a very high chance that you will initially be compliant with him. His darling being cooperative in the beginning is kind of crucial to him becoming yandere for you. If you reject him or get too harsh before he's completely fallen for you, it'll make his heart clam up and he won't form that intense connection.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

It is not a long process. Two weeks tops. Ace falls hard and fast if his darling gives him what he craves. Their warm comfort makes his own flames feel cold by comparison, and he gets addicted quick. As soon as he feels like you've "accepted" him, your fate is sealed. You are coming with him whether you like it or not. Putting up a fight won't be enough to deter him once he's fallen for you. At that point, he feels like he needs you too much to back out now. He's hopeful that you'll come around and go back to your old self sooner or later.

[softmangoes]

until sunrise | eden x defiant!pc

18+ only

summary: you ask eden if you can go to town to run some errands. reluctantly, he says yes. sequel to cabin fever.

includes: defiant! fem pc, yearning, domesticity, a very needy eden

author's note: i had so much fun writing the first fic that i got excited to work on this one. i love eden so much, so please let me know what you think! comments always keep me going 🫶🏾

-

"you want to leave?" eden tenses. instinctively, he holds you tighter, thinking of the time you actually managed to run away. it was a while ago, but he could still feel the cold spike of fear as he tracked you through the forest.

"what," you say. "you don't trust me?"

it's not that he doesn't. he wants to. he does. it's just that after being alone for so long, he's finally found you, and now you want to leave?

the forest provides. its boughs offer wood for shelter, fruit for food. its animals bare their necks to gift flesh and fur for meals and warmth. and then there is the quiet, which is something the town never had. the quiet that eases eden's nerves, lets him think.

in the wilderness, there is nothing else he could want. he thought that after being here for a while, you would feel the same. he's provided for you, hasn't he? he's been good to you. why would -

"eden." your fingers brush his hair away from his face. what would he do, knowing he'd be without your touch? "i can hear you thinking."

it's not like him to lose his composure. on a hunt, it could cost him a meal - a bullet whizzing far past its target. in this moment, he averts his gaze. swallows.

"is it because there's someone else?" he says, quiet.

you had a life before him. he's well aware of that. before, when he would watch you spend your afternoons at the lake, he would occassionally see you have picnics with a brunette boy with a voice so soft that you had to move closer just to listen to him.

fear wraps cold tendrils around his heart. was that who you wanted? someone who still had kindness in their eyes?

"i have you." your lips feather across his cheeks. "how can there be someone else when you're all i need?"

need. it's such a terrible, wonderful thing, isn't it? before you, he thought he never needed much. since the night you told him you would stay, the thought of being around you has become as essential as air. as cherished as the quiet.

he needs you. but as much as he wants to keep you within his reach, eden knows you well enough that a cage would be the last thing you would ever want.

"a day," he says. your lips hover over his, your breath sweet with the scent of berries you had picked together earlier that morning. "nothing more, and you come back."

the kiss you give him is full of relief, gratitude. he pulls you onto his lap and the couch creaks at the shift in weight. when he brings his mouth to your neck, he bites you hard enough to leave a bruise. the throbbing will give you something to remember him by while you're gone. you touch the bloom of broken capillaries with a smile.

the next morning, he holds you tightly at the end of the forest path.

"i have to be back before breakfast tomorrow," you say, muffled by his embrace. "it'll still take me hours to get to town."

it's fall, so the leaves crunch beneath his feet as he takes an uneasy step back. there's a chill in the air, so he adjusts the scarf he's given you around your neck.

"you can come earlier than that," he tells you. "it'd be better if you do."

i'd feel better if you do, he thinks.

you smile knowingly and take his hand. he swears he'll never get used to it, how tenderly you hold him even after everything he's done. even though he is who he is.

"i'll miss you, too," you say before you leave.

for a moment, after he watches you walk through the bushes, he thinks about following you. of course, he would only do it to make sure you get there safely. he'd promised to protect you, didn't he?

but you didn't need that. you were already strong when he found you and you had given him quite the fight when he brought you to the cabin. he was sure you were capable of protecting yourself. for both your sakes, you had to be.

he slings his rifle over his shoulder. how about a deer for dinner once you got back? you always liked his venison roasts. they take long to track, but even longer to cook. at least it would give him something to do while you're away.

hours later, eden lowers his rifle. the shot is clean - straight to the temple without any damage to the hide. he hefts the fallen doe over his shoulder. this early in the season, she hasn't shed too much of her fat gained from the spring and the summer. her meat will make a fine roast, one worthy of welcoming you back.

eden dresses her away from the cabin, gathering her hide and meat. in a few days, he'll come back for the bones after they've been picked clean.

the weather is cool enough that he can place the flesh in the root cellar until he's ready to use it. there are still a few hours left in the day, so he uses them to strip the hide.

as he draws the fleshing knife over the stretched skin, his mind wanders.

normally, he'd find peace in the monotony of this kind of work, allowing his mind clear while you read a book on the patio's rocking chair. but now, all he could think about was where you were. all he could think about was how silent the cabin was without you there to fill the air with your laughter. when he looks up, he watches the empty chair sway in the breeze.

once he's done fleshing the hide, eden eats a late lunch of stewed cabbage and sausage. it's the last thing you prepared and while it's delicious, it does not soothe the ache of your absence.

dinner isn't any better. he eats quickly, sopping up the broth on his plate with a hank of crusty bread.

once he curls up with a book by the fireplace, it's only then that his mind quiets. for as long as he could remember, he's always loved reading. stories were his first escape. they allowed him to imagine a future different from his past.

the first time you had asked him to read to you, he was confused.

"your voice," you told him. "it's pretty."

"pretty?" he scoffed. "that can't be the right word for it."

"like thunder rumbling in the distance." you kissed his neck, your hands slipping under his sweater. "a shift in the tide." his breath caught. "i could listen to you all night and it would never be enough."

right now, eden flips his way through a weathered paperback, the spine cracked white throughout.

soon, the both of you would fall back into your routine.

he feels more at ease - somewhat - but perhaps it's because of the anticipation that flutters in his chest. the day is almost done and tomorrow, as promised, he will wake to welcome you home. the thought warms him like the first sunrise of spring, melting away the long winter frost.

still, his chest tightens.

what if he never heard your knock? what if dawn came and you didn't? you wouldn't do that, would you? you would keep your word.

ah, but he's done so many bad things. he hurt you, even as you kicked and clawed at him. back then, he was selfish, wanting nothing else but your body to warm the cold nights.

things were different, now. the way you looked at him was softer. fond. at night, you would take his hand and hold it until you fell asleep. in turn, he'd wake you with a kiss to the forehead, waiting until you stirred in his arms. eden was yours and you were his. you wouldn't leave him. you wouldn't you wouldn't you wouldn't -

the book falls apart in his hands with a sharp rip.

"fuck," he says, placing the ruined pieces onto the couch.

he takes a deep breath, deciding that it would be wise to turn in early. that way, he'd get enough rest to properly take care of you after your long trek through the forest.

the bed is cold when he slips in. outside the cabin window, the crickets croon softly in the night for their lovers. eden places a palm against the bed's empty space, his fingers gathering the sheets. it takes a long time for him to close his eyes.

the next morning, there's a knock at the door.

eden is there just as you swing it open.

"the way back is so much harder," you huff, dropping a couple of duffel bags onto the floor along with your backpack. "i tripped on so many roots. maybe we could spend a day clearing the path more?"

sweat has plastered your hair to your forehead and your cheeks are red with exertion. there are fragments of leaf debris sticking to your skin. you have never looked more beautiful.

eden gathers you into his arms.

he takes you on the table, lays your body down like a feast. the oak whines against the cabin floor, but it holds. when he carved it a few years ago, he made sure it would be sturdy.

"hey, wait," you start, trying to fend him off. but you're too tired, too weak from the journey back. it's alright, though. he's here to give you a proper welcome.

somehow, you manage to kick off your boots. he drags down your hiking pants, grabs ahold of your thighs.

already, you're so wet for him. he can smell it. have you been wanting this as badly as he has, he wonders. the thought drives him wild.

eden brings his mouth to your bare hip as he peels off your underwear with one hand. he licks a trail further and further downward until he's between your legs.

you hiss at the sensation of his tongue on you, his hands clasped securely around your thighs.

"i've been waiting," he says gruffly. "for this."

and when his tongue, thick and hot, pushes itself inside of you, you can do nothing else but squirm.

one of his massive hands slips under your tank top, beneath your bra, to take your nipple between his fingers.

it's all so much. you wrap a hand around his wrist, steadying yourself as he fucks you with his mouth.

once he's satisfied, eden moves to suck on your clit, groaning in approval when your hips twitch against his face.

your core tightens, back arching as the orgasm takes you.

eden pulls away. a moment later, you hear the rustling of fabric. he's removed his lounge pants.

he licks his lips, which are glistening with your wetness.

"i was worried you wouldn't come back," he says, taking a hold of your hips to pull you closer to his aching cock. "but here you are, being so good for me." eden slips inside of you slowly, making you feel every moment he's missed you. "i think you deserve a reward."

then he rips through your tank top and bra. you gasp at the sudden coolness against your skin, his ravenous hunger making you feel vulnerable.

eden fucks himself into you, planting rough kisses across your chest and collarbone.

"so tight," he praises. "and all mine."

when you come, clenching down on him so deliciously, he crushes his mouth to yours, swallowing your moans as you writhe beneath him.

he's close, the yearning he had pent up the day prior threatening to make him spill, but he does not relent. instead, he bites the inside of his cheek, the pain lancing through his wave of pleasure so he can last longer.

has it only been a day since you were last together? no, that can't be right. it feels like forever. he'll have to make up for all that lost time.

with the pad of his fingers, eden rubs small circles against your swollen clit, coaxing another orgasm from you as he pushes himself deeper to reach the spot he knows will make you keen.

it's when you tongue at the hollow of his neck, nails raking across his back, that he comes gasping your name.

you hold each other, the wooden planks creaking softly under your weight.

"christ," you pant, forehead pressed against his. "i was barely through the fucking door."

he laughs - it's a deep, guttural grumble that he only ever does around you. it reminds you of thunder, of storms.

he blushes, shy. "i, ah, got excited."

eden gathers you into his arms and you wash up quickly, the both of you eager to spend the rest of the day together.

"such a sweetheart," you say, kissing him on the cheek. "you missed me a lot, didn't you?"

once you're clean, fed, and settled, you begin to unpack the spoils you gathered from town. there are the hefty duffel bags full of eden's supplies: boxes of bullets, rope for snare traps, canned food, and kerosene for the lamps.

from your backpack, you procure extra sets of clothes you bought at the mall along with a short guides on canning produce and soapmaking you found at the outdoor shop. he glances at the pile of ruined clothing he had torn to get to you and scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed.

lastly, you take out a hefty rectangular bundle wrapped in brown paper. it's secured with a ribbon made of twine.

"what's this?" he asks.

you look at the fire, sheepish. you were never very good with words.

"i know the paperbacks are cheaper, but they're too small for your hands," she says.

he tears through the packaging. inside are hardcover copies of his favorite books, along with some new releases.

"you like their work the most," you tell him. "i've noticed that you reread their books a lot."

eden is speechless. you thought of him, then, even though you were gone? he takes a moment to imagine you perusing the bookstore, scanning the shelves for something to take home with you. 

"i don't know what to say," he says, setting the books on the table beside him. when was the last time he'd received a gift? for the life of him, he can't remember. if he had, then that memory has been long buried by the past.

"you could thank me," you say, taking his hand to your face. your eyes darken as you slip two of his fingers into your mouth. "or you could show me."

warmth ignites his core. he pulls you closer, hunger making him lick his teeth.

one day is long enough.

sunlight filters through the glass windows. he smiles, admiring the sight of you finally back in his arms.

you don't make it out of the cabin until the next morning.