#the urge to take it back so im liked once again. is a lot

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

.

[defnoteleonor]

SLEEPOVER!!

warnings: smoking, making out, ellie calls reader a hoe once but playfully‼️, mention of sex and i think tyats all. IM FROM EUROPE IF ITS BAD IM SORRY LMK OR SMT. NOT PROOFREAD

a.n.: i dont like the begging and i think its going to be a series but it depends if i have a lot of work to do😊

(reader-🩷, ellie-💙) you and ellie dated for a few months now. ellie invited you for a sleepover since her father figure, joel, was out of town for work related things. you were headed to her house after school. you knocked on the heavy, wooden door and waited. you also texted ellie just to be sure. after a few seconds you heard someone unlock the door and open them. then you saw the love of your life with her dog between her legs so she wouldnt run off “come on shimmer.. stay in the house” she grabbed the dog by her collar and pulled her away from the door. “hi cutie!” you walked in and closed the door. first thing you did is sayinh ‘hi’ to ellies dog. “you come over just for shimmer” ellie chuckled and messed with your hair. “thats right” a smirk appeared on your face and you looked up at ellie. she was standing and looking down at you. your crouched figure was playing with her dog. her cheeks blushed at this position but she shook it off. “im so tired” you broke the uncomfortable silence. “wanna take a nap?” ellie smiled and grabbed your bag from tge floor. “yeah… i would love to..” a yawn escaped your mouth and you finally stood up. you couldnt help the urge to hug ellie. you arms wrapped around her and yiur head sinks into her neck. “everything okay, baby?” she asked and wrapped her arms around your waist. “mhm…” you mumbled “im tired” you whined. you really didnt know what was happening. normally you werent so whiny and desperate for her attention. “lets go to my room” ellie rubbed your back with her free hand. you just nodded and pulled away. ellie locked the front door and you both went to her room. her room was filled with posters and pictures with you, jesse, dina and joel. her favorite was next to her bed. it was a pictute of you and her dog sleeping on her bed. you were in one of her shirts. ellie adores this picture. “i don’t understand why you love this photo so much.” you sat on her bed and took the picture in your hands. “i look so weird.” your eyes met her wide eyes. “WHAT” ellie dropped your bag and walked to you “you are so cute in here. so innocent. AND you are with my dog! literally two things i love the most” you just rolled your eyes and took your shoes off. ellie showed you smoking weed but you showed her vapes. you pulled your pink and pretty vape and started smoking. “god this whole day i couldnt smoke” you whined and leaned back. ellie placed the picture on its original place and laid next to you. “whys that?” she looked at you, then your vape and then back at you. you shook your head in disbelief and gave her your vape. “i had so much to do and i couldn’t just go for smoke. it was exhausting.” “poor baby” she siad back and exhaled the smoke. “why is it so hot in your room?” you whined and took your jeans off. you pulled out a pair of sleeping shorts and pulled them on. “i dont know… if i keep it hot in here would you underss even more?” ellie teased. you just rolled your eyes and laid down again. “give me my vape” you mumbled. “and what if i dont?” ellie chuckled and took a puff. “pleaseeeeeeee” you whined and sat up. “you are begging already? someones needy” she teased. she was in some kind of attitude. normally she was more awkward and shy but tonight it was very different. “baby please…” you sat on her hips and tried to get YOUR vape out of her tight grip. “you. mother. fucker.” you struggled. a lot. she took a puff just to tease you. you gasped and kissed her. the smoke filled your mouth as you two shared a kiss. you pulled away and exhaled the remaining smoke from your lungs. “you addicted hoe!” ellie teased. “am not!” you gasped in offense. ellie pulled you into a kiss. The kiss turned into a passionate make out session. You ended up without your shorts and she ended up without her shirt. one of ellies hands were on your thigh and her other one on your lower bavk. your hands wrapped around her neck. after a while you pulled away and tried to catch your breath. PART 2 ???

[areyouwell]

Hi!!! I really love your work- photophobia is my favorite piece of fanfiction ever!!

I don't know if your requests are still open but if they are and you feel inspired I'd like to request a one-shot where Logan and reader are caught having sex by a member of the x-men (you can decide who!!) I'd love to see your take on it <3

Like Animals

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: im sorry this took so long ;-; work's been driving me crazy and i've been creatively constipated BUT i really liked this request and ngl i was laughing to myself when writing it hehehe. also not sure if this counts as a oneshot or a drabble since it's kinda short but i hope this is what you had in mind!

Taglist: @fries11 (i had a taglist for Phobophobia but this is a more general one if anyone wants to be on it lmk <3)

How many steps could one person do in a single day? It was a question you idly entertained whilst pacing across the floor of the kitchen, having been asked to politely remove yourself from movie night by a mildly irritated Kitty when you were unable to sit still. You’d spent most of your day like this. Anxiously, mindlessly marching from place to place, your body humming with anticipation since yesterday evening. 

It was the longest you and Logan had been apart since the start of your relationship a year and a half ago, and fuck you missed him. It had been roughly three weeks since he’d left, Charles trusting him with gathering intel on some new fucked up mutant slave trade just south of the school. He’d called you, of course he had, and you knew it was purely just to hear your voice, but his calls were few and far between. He was busy, incredibly busy. And whilst you tried to keep yourself busy too, it was hard not to think about him constantly. Not to wonder how he was doing, whether he was okay. If he missed you just as much as you missed him.

But you were pacing because he was supposed to be coming home today. Supposed to, if everything had gone well. Scott was almost as excited as you were, but only because he was happy to finally have his bike back. He was almost inconsolable when he went into the garage to see his prized possession had once again been stolen, and you tried everything you could to hide your amused grin. It was so typical of him, for his last act before he was gone for three weeks to be something that would piss off Scott. 

Fuck you loved him. 

You checked the clock on the wall for the thirtieth time that minute, the hands mocking you with the rhythmic clicking. Quarter past nine. He was supposed to be back an hour ago. Hence the anxious pacing. You resisted the urge to call him, hoping that maybe the traffic was just bad, or he got held up for some reason. He was okay. Of course he was okay. This was Logan you were thinking about. He was always okay. He had to be okay. 

Your teeth gnawed on your bottom lip cursing lowly as you didn’t focus on where you were going and smacked your hip into the corner of the table. If only he knew the things he id to you when he was away. 

With a brief pause, you debated whether or not to go back to movie night. Whilst you had no idea what was happening onscreen, being unable to focus, you think you could understand the fairly basic premise of Night at the Museum. Some guy spends a night at a museum. How complex could that actually be? But remembering Kitty’s flat stare of knowing, you thought better of it. She’d been helpful in distracting you for the last three weeks, but clearly, you’d worn down her patience. Not that you could blame the girl. She called you out for being too codependent on him, and whilst at the time you refuted the claim, you couldn’t help thinking she may have had a point. Maybe.

You weren’t codependent. You just loved him. A lot. Enough to constantly be by his side every minute of every day. And it wasn’t like he was any different. 

Another minute ticked by and you clenched your jaw. Had he gotten lost or something? Why was he making you wait longer than you needed to? Of course it wasn’t deliberate, even if he wanted to, you don’t think he had the strength to do that, deprive you both of the other’s presence, but he really picked a time to be an hour late. 

You crossed to the window, pulling back the curtain for the umpteenth time and waiting for longer than you should for the peek of headlights around the drive. But there was nothing. Just the moonlit grass and silhouette of trees. You huffed, throwing the curtain back into place. Footsteps echoed through the hallway towards the kitchen, and you dragged a hand down your face. 

“I’m fine, Scott. Just… getting kinda worried now. He should have been back an hour ago.” You couldn’t help pulling back the curtain again, as if anything would have changed in the last twenty seconds. 

“Scott? Seriously?”

Oh. That was not Scott. 

You whipped around, heart soaring as you knew that voice instantly. You could be deaf and still know the sound of his voice. Your lips split into a broad grin as you saw Logan standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, brow raised with a wry smile pulling at his lips. 

“Logan!” You beamed, racing across the room to all but tackle him. He dropped his leather bag to the floor, wrapping his arms around around your middle, spinning with the momentum of your jump. Your legs anchored around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back as you let yourself bask in his presence, inhaling the familiar scent of cigars and wood smoke. 

“Hi darlin’. Sorry ‘m late.” He breathed, tightening his hold on you more for comfort than anything else. The tightness in his chest finally eased with the feeling of having you back in his arms. Logan always thought of himself as a lone wolf. An outsider. Someone who didn’t need anybody else. That was until he met you and fell absolutely head over heels. Now he could barely stand to be on his own for longer than five minutes before he’d find himself sorely missing your presence. So the last three weeks had been as torturous for him as they had been for you. 

Removing your face from the crook of his neck, you schooled your expression into a scowl. “Where the fuck have you been? An hour, Logan. I haven’t seen you in three weeks and you make me wait another hour?!”

He rolled his eyes at your dramatics, smirking as your furrowed brows deepened. “Roads were closed. Fuckin’ tree blocked the way so I had to turn back n’ find another way round.” He explained, and you reluctantly accepted it. “Not that you missed me or anythin’.”

“Me? Miss you?” you quirked a brow, your scowl dissolving into a mischievous smirk. “In your dreams, Howlett.”

Before he had a chance to quip back, you wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging tight as your lips crashed into his, dragging a quiet groan from his throat as he tasted longing passion on your tongue. His hands slid from your back to your thighs and oh how you missed the way he would grip them, leaving little purple bruises where he dug his fingers into your soft flesh. 

Your brows pinched as he shifted to pin you against the wall, palms kneading your ass whilst he ground his rapidly hardening cock against your clothed heat. You whimpered lightly as his touches became desperate, your teeth tugging at his bottom lip, eliciting a sharp gasp from the depths of his chest. Shifting from his neck, your nails dug into the hard muscles of his shoulders, leaving little crescent dents across the sinewy skin before you the brown flannel from his arms. It was barely clinging on anyway, so why not assist the fall?

“Where’s everyone?” He ground, lips fanning against your lower jaw as he moved to pepper tingling kisses and aching bruises along the column of your neck, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin above your pulse point. You angled your head to the side, allowing him easier access, the scuff of his beard scratching deliciously against the hollow of your throat.

“Movie night– Logan…!” you gasped his name as quietly as you could when his hands left the plush of your ass, using your grip around his waist and the wall to hold you aloft whilst he pawed and kneaded at your breasts through your t-shirt, braless nipples hardening almost instantly. He pinched the pebble through the fabric, tugging slightly and silencing your whine with a burning kiss, hungrily devouring your mouth before you alerted anyone in the living room to the new show playing in the kitchen. 

He growled a gravelly “Good” against your lips, removing your arms from his shoulders to raise above your head, pulling your shirt up and off in a hurried frenzy, almost snarling to himself as you bared yourself for him. You shivered slightly, though not from the cold, quite the opposite. The heat radiating off him kept you warm as you scrabbled to return the favour, your nails scratching at his naval before pulling up the white singlet and discarding it to the ground alongside your own shirt. Your hands fell to his belt, his mouth delivering little bites to your collarbone. Fuck, you needed him now. You needed him yesterday. Hell, you needed him the day he left, because fucking yourself with your fingers wearing his flannel was nothing in comparison to the ecstasy of fucking yourself on his cock. 

“Need you,” you breathed, popping open the button atop his jeans and pulling down the zipper over the incredibly obvious and likely extremely uncomfortable tent in his pants. Logan groaned slightly against your neck in relief, the tip of his cock pulsing and leaking with need. He hadn’t been this desperate for you since–

What the fuck was he saying? He was always desperate for you. In any way, shape or form. For whatever you were willing to give him. Though, luckily enough, you were usually willing to give him everything. 

“Fuck princess, ‘can smell you. Smell so fuckin’ good.” he growled directly into your ear, hot breath sending shivers down your spine. You really didn’t care that you were in the kitchen, nor did you care when he carefully tore through the crotch of your sweatpants with a single claw. Your arousal clouded his senses, the sweet scent of need making his hips buck into you. Especially when he dipped his hand through the tear to find you were naked beneath. “No underwear? You did miss me.” He grinned the same smile as a predator, and you clamped your lips together to stop your own disobedient smile. 

“‘Was in my pyjamas… at least, they were my pyjamas.” You hissed, brows pinching as a curious, delicate finger softly grazed through your slick folds, gathering your dewy arousal on the tip of his fingers before bringing them up to his mouth. A carnal groan rumbled from his chest as he tasted you, his eyes rolling before they closed. Your mouth fell open, chest rising and falling in rapid pants as one of your hands shoved the elastic of his briefs down below his hips, just far enough for his desperate cock to spring from his confines. 

“Impatient?” He smirked darkly as you attempted to grind against him, having to clench your jaw to stop yourself from whining. You shot him an equally wicked look, earning yourself a brow raise before his jaw slackened, your hand circling his length in a tight palm, jerking him from base to tip and using your thumb to slather the head of his cock in his own yearning. He bucked into your hand, a gasp flying from his lips before you slid him through the tear in your sweatpants. But before you could coerce him to drive home, he pulled you from the wall. 

With a small squeak of surprise, your nails clung to his back, tearing angry marks up his spine as he set you back down on the table, leaning over you until you were lying against the solid wood. 

“Say you missed me,” he growled with a smile, clearly deriving pleasure from the way you huffed in frustration. You only responded by raising your hips into his, grinding your now-soaked crotch against his throbbing cock. “C’mon baby, just say it, ‘n I’ll give you everything you want.” he bargained, though finding it incredibly difficult to deny you. He grunted a soft curse when you locked your legs tighter around his waist, forcing his sensitive tip to graze through your aching heat. Fuck he wanted you. But at the same time, he really wanted to hear you say it. “C’mooon, say you missed me. Can’t really deny it.”

“Fuck, yes I missed you. Of course I missed you. Now fuck me already!” You spat through gritted teeth, but he still didn’t claim you the way you wanted him to. 

“How much?”

“Logan?!”

“How much? How much did you miss me?” He grinned and you groaned in frustration. Trust him to find the worst times to wind you up. With a deep breath, you leaned up, holding both sides of his neck as you took the shell of his ear between your teeth. 

“I fucked myself wearing your clothes, whining your name, imagining my fingers were your fingers. Imagining that stupid silicon cock was your cock. That’s how much I missed you.” You whispered, earning yourself a needy groan from the man above you. 

His hips moved as if they had a mind of their own, his hand guiding himself through the ruins of your sweatpants to sink into your leaking cunt, and you both gasped airily at the sensation. Incrementally, Logan pushed inside you, savouring the pulse of your silken walls, the pitch of your trapped whines behind a wall of teeth and lips. Oh how he wanted to hear you, but somewhere in the back of his pleasure-addles mind, he was glad you were keeping quiet. At least one of you was still aware of the time and place. 

Slowly he bottomed out, pressing the coarse hairs of his pelvis against your clit. Taking your hand in his, he trapped it by the side of your head, knuckled turning white as he fought to resist the urge to cum there and then. You felt so fucking good. How did you always feel so fucking good?

“F-fuck, Logan… move.” You hissed, your hips undulating in desperate pumps as you attempted to get him to do something other than just fill you. It felt incredible, but you needed more. What you didn’t realise was that he was hypersensitive. He’d been without you for the last three weeks, with nothing but your voice on the other side of his phone and his own fist to satisfy his craving for you. And it did nothing but make it worse. Did nothing but make him harder for you. 

“Easy, princess. Not– fuck… not goin’ anywhere.” He swore as you deliberately clenched around him, slowly pulling back until only his tip was submerged in your heat, before pushing back in, having to sink his teeth into the meat of your shoulder to muffle his loud groan of ecstasy. You clawed at his closed fist, sharp nails digging into the three spaces where his claws would slide out—an unknown erogenous zone.

Until now.

His cock jumped inside you, shivers of pure electric honey quivering down his spine as he slammed his hips into yours, momentarily losing control of himself. “Shit… shit! Fuck that was– what did you–” 

You did it again, watching his features fall completely slack, mouth agape as he bucked into you uncontrollably, as if searching for a deeper place to reach. Your chest inflated with a sharp gasp as the leaking, throbbing tip of his cock brushed that little bundle of pleasure nestled inside your walls, the tight leash you were holding on your voice loosening slightly as he thrust into you sharply, having found just the right angle. 

“Yes… fuck, yeah, there, right– shit, right there!” Your eyes fluttered closed, your body set alight as he set a determined pace, the table shifting slightly with each delicious thrust, your ecstasy climbing higher and higher and you let yourself be completely consumed by pleasure. 

“Yeah?” he growled, gasping into the side of your neck as your other hand scratched up his back as if you were trying to get past his regeneration and leave lingering marks. He loved it when you got rough, it drove him fucking crazy when you tried to leave your marks on him. There were times he hated his mutation for that because nothing would push him higher than knowing he could look in the mirror and see your desperation sucked into his neck or torn into his back. 

“Fuck! Logan, I–”

“Are you fucking serious?!”

At the first sound of a foreign voice outside of your bubble of rapture, your mutation flared, blinking both you and Logan out of sight. Though, if you could teleport, that would have been a whole lot more beneficial. Because now poor Scott had to bear witness to your spontaneous kitchen table tryst. 

Had to bear witness to Logan’s bare ass. You almost wished you had his perspective…

“Maybe he didn’t see us…” you whispered as quietly as you could, and though you couldn’t see Logan smile, you knew he was grinning from ear to ear. 

“I wouldn’t hold out hope.”

“I can fucking hear you. On the table? Seriously? Everyone eats there. I eat there!” He lamented, and you craned your neck to see he’d covered his already covered eyes with his hands, his face a nice shade of bright pink. 

“Like you and Jean are any more discrete in the danger room, Summers.” Logan barked, and you snorted a laugh which quickly turned into a gasp when he shifted slightly. You couldn’t even hide the way your cunt pulsed the moment you heard him walk in, and you knew Logan would have given you a look of intrigue. 

“That’s not– You’re still going?!”

“You kinda walked in at a bad time.” You could hear just how hard Logan was trying to keep his shit together whilst still being under the influence of your arousal, like a siren to a sailor. 

“Exactly. It’s rude to walk in on a lady without knocking, I could have been naked!” You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning aloud as Logan shifted again, deliberately this time. Oh, how you wished you could see his face right now. 

“In the kitchen?!” 

You snorted a laugh, earning a low groan from Logan as your walls convulsed around his cock, your thighs tightening around his waist. You could almost hear his teeth grind together as he continued his battle to stop from pounding into you there and then. 

“You might wanna go, Scott. Logan’s getting impatient.”

“You can’t even see him, how’d you kn– OH FUCK’S SAKE!”  He huffed, turning on his heel and storming from the room, no doubt to tell Kitty and Ororo he’d just caught the two of you fucking like animals on the kitchen table. 

When you were certain he was gone, you released your grip on your mutation and the visage of Logan’s sweat-slicked face greeted you, a crooked grin pulling at his lips. 

“You liked that, didn’t you?” He asked lowly, nipping at your jaw. “Could feel you gushin’ around me, princess. You liked it when he walked in. You liked it when we got caught.” Feeling boneless, Logan pulled you up with him as he stood, sliding his still-hard cock from your twitching cunt. 

“Shut up…” You mumbled, attempting to latch your lips to his. But he pulled back from you, that same shit-eating grin still shining. With a huff, you hopped off the table, stooping to snatch your t-shirt from the ground. 

“My little exhibitionist. Who knew?” Logan wrapped his arms around your naked waist and you leaned back into his chest, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you felt his cock press against your ass. “‘M not against extending invitations. Just to watch. Nobody gets to touch you but me.” He growled, a possessive edge cutting into his tone, one that made you slightly weak at the knees, as if you weren’t already struggling to stand. A fresh wave of arousal curled in your lower gut, and you turned in his arms, eyes like heated coals.

“Bedroom. Now.”

“Just the two of us?”

“Now, Logan!”

With a dark chuckle, he bent to pick you up, hands braced against the backs of your thighs much like he had when he first walked in. 

“Yes ma’am.” He murmured, before finally letting you capture his mouth with your own, teeth clashing and tongues dancing as he blindly carried you up to bed to finish what you both started. 

[fartcloudfartcloud]

What about Logan meeting a reader with more dominance than him? Like what would he do, what would he want to do to them?

*giggles and wrings hands together* You've found my achilles heel mr.69

i dont know if this is what you wanted but im using this as my excuse to write FREAKY SUBMISSIVE LOGAN PORN!!!

warnings: Edging, Logan being mean and then begging on his knees a second later, i do say reader is "5 foot whatever" but if that doesnt apply just ignore it lmao, I do describe him as almost crying every now and then so if that turns u off this might be a skip

This is short (1.5k) but I love submissive men so do NOT be afraid to lmk if you want more :)

Personally, I was raised by a woman way too strong headed to ever be the stereotype of submission, and I'm sure a lot of you share the same sentiment in some way or another. I was always told to never let a man tell me what to do, and I can picture a reader being the exact same way. 

Not mean, not bullheaded or rude, but strong. Tough. Logan had expected to blow through you like he had the rest of his team (or at least how he thought he did, though he was a lot tougher in his head than in action). But when he stood up to you, all 5 foot whatever of you, it felt like you were standing eye to eye.  

You did exactly as you were taught, chin up and shoulders back as you spoke with confidence, and it easily had you slipping into positions of power in the mansion with ease. He admired you from afar for a while, watched as you seamlessly commanded a room, effortlessly organizing missions and handling insubordinate children like it was nothing.  

Logan couldn't describe where the attraction came from. Originally, he thought it was his manly man urges to take a dominant woman and make her pine for him, but you and I both know that's not why you got him going. 

If you were to ask him right now in his current scenario, he wouldn't be able to tell you which was his favorite part. Not sure if it's you under him in between his knees, looking up and fluttering your pretty eyelashes at him like has something to behold; or if it's your firm grip around his cock, effortlessly bringing him so close to the edge before you manhandle him back down to earth. 

It had only been once so far, but you had gotten him bad. Your hands all sloppy and wet working up and down his length with vigor, your filthy loudmouth a never-ending record of come on baby, let me see it, let go for me. 

All that build up, just for you to -right as he whimpers out a breathless "going to fucking cum"- halt all action and grip your flingers tightly around his base. 

It ripped a deep growl from his chest, the feeling almost painful as his finish line is so rudely ripped from him.  

He should've known, he knows you too well too have assumed he could get you all pretty on your knees without some anterior motive.  

"You want something?" You ask him innocently, that stupid pretty smile still spread across your face. He grinds his teeth as the pressure in his stomach slowly simmers down, not enough air in his lungs to formulate a response.  

You slowly start stroking him again, an agonizing pace that has his cock flushed a deep red and practically throbbing in your hand. The sound is pornographic and it's all too much for him. 

He's whining now, head thrown back and noises getting increasingly high pitched as you keep his release just barely out of his reach. If he could focus enough to use his ears, he’d hear you laughing at him. 

He so rudely tries to interrupt you, tries to bring his own hands down to just get himself there, but you wouldn't allow it. You'd make him sit on his hands if you had to, and when you grabbed each wrist and planted them next to his thighs and told him to "stay," he knew better than to disobey. 

"Gotta ask for the things you want, Wolvie." You remind him. It's just basic manners, really, frankly he should be thanking you for still touching him after being so rude.  

"Don't gotta ask for shit," He spits out through clenched teeth. 

See, that was Logans problem. He had too much fucking pride, needed someone to teach him a lesson. Guess today he needs it to be you. 

"Mm you're right, Logan," you've got a smile on your face as you speak that Logan can't read. Either way, he's scared. 

None of it matters though as your hand picks up speed and pressure, resuming your prior ministrations as your fingers suddenly massage every spot with precision. His breath is gone as his head hangs limp on his shoulders, his fingers gripping the comforter like it would save him from your attack.  

"You don't gotta do shit," You're talking but he's not listening. It's all too good, he's being hurdled towards his orgasm faster than ever, he couldn't hear your jests even if he wanted to over the pressure in his ears. He’s gonna cum, he's so fucking close, and your hands feel so fucking good so perfect and it's all so much and- 

"But neither do I," and just like that you're off him. Not like before, this time you stand up and physically take a step back from him, watching his form head to toe as he's forced to cope with his second lost orgasm. 

The groan he lets out is primal, you expect to see him start ripping the pillows and sheets with how his writhing on your bed. He’s on his back twitching, practically crying from the ache pulsing through the center of his body. It hurts, he's so desperate it physically hurts, his hips rutting into the air in search of anything. 

He has no sense anymore, no control over any of his limbs as he falls to the floor and crawls to you, the only thing he can make out in his fogged-up mind is need.  

"Please baby," He begs mindlessly, "You're so fucking mean to me," He's kissing your thighs and pulling at your hands, buttering you up and wallowing in any contact you'll give him.  

Neither of you know how it happened, know at what point in the night he broke and became a whimpering messy puppy, but God did it feel good to watch, to see him yearn for you so desperately. 

His eyes are teary eyed and hazy as he speaks, "I'll do anything princess I'm sorry," He kisses you palm and knuckles and up your wrists, "Please baby I'm sorry I'm sorry just fucking-" His hips involuntarily grind down, his thighs twitching and his hard cock bobbing between his legs. "Please touch me baby I can't fucking take it,"  

He’s a mess, his cock is leaking all over his thighs and the floor, and his lips won't leave your body, lathing kisses anywhere he can, worshipping your body as you stand still and look down at him.  

"Why can't you just behave the first time?" You ask, wrapping your fingers in his hair and gently tugging his hair back, making him look at you as he speaks.  

"Was just playin baby," He kisses the wrist of the hand in his hair, "shouldn't have teased you baby I'm sorry, please baby please," his arms are wrapped around your thighs as he nuzzles into you. It's pathetic, and if anyone else ever saw him like this he's sure he could just explode on the spot.  

"Get back on the bed." You order, taking pleasure in the way he scrambles back to his spot, his legs spread for you and his hands pressed back into their spot next to his hips. He’s disheveled, his hair falling over his face and sticking to his forehead, a thin layer of sweat covering him head to toe. Youd keep him like this forever if you could. 

You decide to take mercy on him though, the sight of him on his knees begging like a dog more than enough to satisfy your cravings. Now, all you wanted was to do was so how pretty he looked once he actually finished for you. 

You find your spot between his legs again, looking up at him all pretty just like before. God you were going to ruin him. 

"Go on. Tell me what you want," you give him one last instruction before giving in. His breath is shaky, his words coming out in a whole different tone than before. He sounds small, on the brink of tears as he whimpers out one last desperate, "please," before you spit in your hand and wrap it back around his cock.  

Instantly he's gone. He doesn't even have the energy to moan or cry, he's just paralyzed. His eyes roll back and his hand clamps over his mouth, no air left in his lungs as the most mind-numbing wave of pleasure works up from his core. He wasn't even cumming yet and it already was making him shake. 

He should've just trusted you, should've known that you'd make him feel so fucking good if he just listened. Never again, he'll never say no to you ever again. 

By the time his orgasm actually hit him, he's laid out flat on his back on the mattress, his mouth dropped open, and his eyes squeezed shut. Both his hands are wrapped in the sheets, stuck in place by his claws that slowly inch out with every rope of cum that comes from him. There's no sound until it's all out of him, your hands not stopping till he's whining and pushing you away from him. 

You watch as he recovers, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he desperately tries to get air back into his lungs, aftershocks still tumbling through him. His eyes flutter back open, not enough energy to focus on anything else though as his claws start sheathing back into his knuckles.  

He sits up as you return from the bathroom with a washcloth, gently cleaning off his stomach and anything that was coated in a thin layer of his finish. He’s sensitive, hissing and gasping as you gently clean his slowly softening length and thighs.  

Once all evidence is taken care of, you look up at him with soft eyes. He looks so amazing like this, his eyes can't focus on anything while his lips slowly pull into a big dopey grin. You let him take you in for a moment, just staying like this with him till he has the strength to speak.  

"Jesus Christ," Is all he says before he presses a chaste kiss to your lips before falling back onto the bed.  

"Are you going to make it?" You tease, cuddling up under his arm where he lay and resting your head on his bicep.  

"I don't think so," He giggles, enough oxygen in his system now, enough strength in him to wrap himself around you and kiss your head. "You were a lot closer to killing me then you think,"  

You giggle and smack his chest, "keep being mean like that and next time I actually will," 

[lovieku]

GOOD LUCK, BABE! #4 ⋆ 정국

what happens when you leave everything behind, only to be faced with it again years later? eunbi is convinced she was given another shot at keeping all she ever wanted, but it’s difficult when that all is her childhood best friend who doesn’t want to do anything with her anymore. how to earn his trust back?

☾ pairing: non idol!jk x fem!oc

☾ genre: childhood friends to strangers, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut

☾ word count: 21.8k

☾ warnings: huhhhh. Angst! jeongguk being a pain in the ass for no reason. well sorta kinda! lots of cute fun moments with the group. until jeongguk comes and ruins it all. (no but i love him). unserious banter until it gets serious, again. pov switch! angst angst angst. mentions of blood!!! fluff if you squint. jealousy if you squint, like, really hard.

☾ author’s note: HELLOOOO first of all happy (late) birthday namjoonie <3 second of all IM FINALLY HERE!!! and this chapter is so long omfg. i got carried away and realised way too late. was too deep in! hope you can enjoy, i love love them sm, its worth getting to the end!

ps: if you read this, lmk what u enjoy more between eunbi’s pov and jk’s pov. it wont change the way i write the story, im just curious!! okay bye <3

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four ⋆ good 4 u

Sleep doesn’t find Eunbi that night. Her mind runs from it, busy searching for something else, grasping for answers to questions that don’t have one. And if they do exist, they get lost in a haze of sadness. Anger. Helplessness. Sadness again.

When Dahye joins her in their shared tent, Eunbi’s eyes are hollow, devoid of any emotion. Her ears still ring with a distant noise, struggling to pick up her friend’s passionate reassurances. Still, she lets herself be held, and comforted by words her brain can’t quite grasp, head resting on Dahye’s chest, a gentle hand running through her hair. For a moment, feeling the soft rhythm of her friend’s breath, she clings to the comfort of her presence, hoping it might anchor her in some way, keep her from completely drifting away.

But everything she has been trying to shut out comes crashing down on her fragile figure the moment she feels Dahye’s arms grow weaker around her, and her breaths getting heavier as sleep takes her. Silent tears trace a path down her cheeks, while loud, screaming thoughts make her head throb and keep her awake all night. She regrets being here; regrets naively hoping things could be mended so easily; regrets the way she stayed quiet the first moment she laid eyes on Jeongguk after all those years; knows it’s her fault.

By morning, the sun having climbed its way in the sky for a couple hours already and its rays forcing themselves in their shelter with unwanted light, she can sense Dahye subtly stir under her. Immediately, Eunbi shuts her eyes closed, feigning deep slumber. Instead, her very awake ears perk when she can feel fussing, Dahye sitting up and ultimately shaking the seemingly unconscious girl’s shoulder, “Bibi?”

If all goes wrong, at least Eunbi could win an Oscar for her performance, the way her eyelids flutter open, slow and heavy, only after rubbing them, and a big yawn escapes her mouth. That wasn’t too fake after all, her body weary with the all-nighter. Dahye doesn’t notice, her smile soft, “Did you sleep well? Are you feeling a bit better?”

Eunbi simply nods, her expression void. She barely registers the other girl mentioning something about washing up, and breakfast, “I’ll leave you some time. But if you’re not out by the time I’m done in the bathroom, I’m dragging your ass out.” Just like that, she slips out of the tent.

Left alone once again with silence, Eunbi listens to the faint noises outside— the muffled voices of her roommate greeting Hoseok and Yoongi. At that, the urge to cry returns, and she feels tears sting at her bottom lashes, threatening to spill. But this time, she holds them back. She knows she can’t let herself break down, not now. Not with everyone outside, and especially not with Jeongguk. Still, she doesn’t think the sorrow written all over her features will go unnoticed.

She feels like an outsider, an intruder trespassing on sacred ground. As if the moment she steps out, all eyes will be on her miserable figure, stripping her bare, judging her poor choices, the ones that lead Jeongguk to spit venom in her face hours ago. Making it clear that she doesn't belong there, that she will never be part of what they already have. Of what Jeongguk has built after her.

Last night, she tried to blame him. She wanted to be angry at him, to turn her hurt into something tangible, something outside of herself. But she couldn't. In the end, she could only turn the anger inward, could only blame herself. Being called a bitch by the best person she's ever known, in front of her university friends, was a brutal wake up call. A reminder of how far she has fallen.

The weight of those thoughts paralyses her for a long moment, while a squeaky, high-pitched voice in the back of her brain screams at her to move, if only to avoid the pitying glance she might receive when Dahye returns. Still, her body protests, limbs heavy and muscles tight from the lack of sleep in the small, uncomfortable place.

With a deep breath that quivers in her chest, she forces herself up. For a second, her hand hesitating at the tent’s entrance and hovering over the zipper, she contemplates hiding in here forever, away from the discomfort. But she knows better. The world outside is waiting, and no amount of hesitation will make it disappear. Quickly throwing on a light pink crewneck over her pyjama shorts, she steps out.

Cool air brushes against her skin in a tender manner, gently welcoming her and seemingly easing her nerves. Before she’s forced to acknowledge the others, she moves quickly, her flip flops clad feet making their way to the small wash station. She hopes the freezing water she repeatedly splashes on her face will cleanse away the fog of the sleepless night, and wishes it could also wash away the weight pressing down on her chest. In the mirror, she convinces herself the dark circles under her eyes aren’t that dark after all, and that the unsettling smile she’s practising is convincing enough to finally join Dahye outside.

The makeshift breakfast setup is simple: a few snacks, some bread, fruit. Namjoon, Taehyung and Aera have also joined the small gathering, making it seven of them now, while the others seem to still be asleep in their tents. Eunbi can hear the casual chatter of the group, the way their voices blend together in an easy rhythm that feels foreign to her now.

With her head down, she picks at the small offerings, not really tasting anything, her appetite almost nonexistent. She almost misses Yoongi’s voice beside her, “Did the creams work?”

Eunbi startles slightly, her gaze darting to the older boy, who wears a sweet grin on his lips. She nods, mirroring his smile timidly. Yoongi makes a show of inspecting her nose as he leans closer, without going over the invisible boundary, his eyes squinting with exaggerated seriousness as he impersonates a doctor’s authority, “Yes, yes. They definitely worked. My patient looks so much better now.” His voice mocks a solemn tone, and it makes the girl heartily giggle.

She’s surprised to see this side of the boy, and she briefly wonders if he’s putting on this act just for her sake, because the misery on her features is that obvious even to him, who left the campfire way before the incident had happened. Either way, it works— she feels herself relax, if only a little, sinking back into her chair with a bit more ease.

Then, Aera asks her about the hoodie she’s wearing, going on about how it compliments her complexion perfectly and Dahye chimes in, explaining how it had originally belonged to her, but after the other girl borrowed it once she decided it looked so much better on her friend that she insisted Eunbi kept it. The recalling of those times keep her distracted, the smile on her face growing bigger as Namjoon makes sure she’s refilling her stomach properly, insisting that she needs her strength for the day’s activities, the worry in his furrowed brows making her feel part of something again.

Just as she begins to think she might make it through this, she senses a shift in the atmosphere. Besides her, Dahye tenses, and Aera clears her throat. Eunbi doesn’t have to look up to know why. Jeongguk has joined them. She can feel his presence like a dark cloud hanging over her, suffocating.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, her eyes lift to meet his. His gaze is sharp, eyes shadowed by dark circles that suggest he’s had as restless a night as she has. There’s no trace of warmth, no hint of the familiarity they used to share. Just cold, hard resentment. For a fleeting second, she wills herself to desperately search his face for any sign that she hasn’t lost everything, that there’s still something worth saving. But he quickly diverts his eyes, turning his attention to the others and slipping easily into their conversation. Once again, she feels like a stranger intruding on his world.

As the group’s attention shifts to the boy, Eunbi finds herself spiralling back into her thoughts, struggling to grasp onto anything solid, anything that makes sense. She knows how this will play out: both of them only pretending the other doesn’t exist, but making it clear that same presence is despised, the petty glares and spiteful comments building until one of them finally snaps, just like last night.

To some extent, she understands his frustration. After all, she’s the unwanted guest at his birthday, a painful reminder of a past he’d rather forget. But understanding doesn’t make it hurt any less. She wasn’t expecting to be openly degraded, with such hatred in his face; to feel small and unwelcome in a place that feels as much hers as his. What can she do? It’s not as if she can just get up and disappear. She’s there, he’s there, and they’re stuck in this awkward dance.

He hasn’t tried to make it any less awkward. Her attempts at being civil have been outright dismissed, and the memory of it fills her with the same rage that bubbled up last night. And as she observes him, it only intensifies. She feels herself cycling through the five stages of grief at an inhumane speed and without following its original order, having skipped straight to depression and now bouncing back to anger. When Jeongguk’s eyes meet hers again, the smile he had been giving Jimin fades instantly. She hates that look.

All that heaviness from last night feels like it has been sucked out of her chest, suddenly devoid of any of the previous gloom that had led her to sad tears streaming her cheeks and impending guilt putting her at fault. Nothing’s left, except this tight, burning knot. It’s not sadness anymore, it’s a hot, fierce feeling coiling in her stomach.

It’s Hoseok who breaks the spell, demanding all of their attention on him, his voice taking on a loud and excited tone. Eunbi struggles to make sense of his words through the fog of anger, her slowed down thought process only registering them when the collective holler that follows fully snaps her out of her trance and pulls her back to the present. The first, opening activity of the trip would be trekking. She doesn’t even bother to fake enthusiasm.

It’s only the second day at the campsite, and Eunbi already has a list long enough to fill an entire notebook of reasons why she never should have come. First of all, whatever fragile hope she had about making things right with Jeongguk has probably died a quick death only in those first few hours. And the rest of the trip? It’s packed with outdoor activities that she wouldn’t really proclaim herself a fan of. Did she even consider that before agreeing to this? The small kid still living inside her most likely saw the words “Jeongguk” and “birthday” and hit yes without a second thought. Not paying any mind to the fact that the two of them are no longer those kids in Busan.

When she glances back at said Busan boy, the previous negativity is washed off his face and instead, his eyes are bright and animated, geeking about today’s trek. Her chest tightens, again. It stings. He looks exactly the way he always has, like the Jeongguk she knows, except she’s not the reason for that look on his face, anymore.

It makes her think. Overthink. Weigh her options. Trying to map out the safest way to move around this minefield. Just moments ago, the sight of him had her blood boiling, the fire in his eyes igniting a stronger spark in her own. But she’s also aware her current position doesn’t paint her as the one entitled to put all the blame on him. Especially when this is supposed to be his trip, a way to celebrate with the people he’s building a new life with. She was never part of the equation, and she gets it. A wrong combination led to unwanted results, and now neither of them know how to find the right pieces and put them back together. None of the numbers are adding up.

She doesn’t feel like letting her resentment take over, at least not here and now; last night only went to show emotions are definitely not needed to decode the problem. She’ll carry them quietly, maybe even figure out some kind of solution along the way. Discover different sequences of calculations that could make sense.

For now, she’s set on ignoring him and making sure her presence is ignored back; avoiding a problem and avoiding creating one. Is this the stage of acceptance? If that’s what it can be called, she welcomes it with a long, liberating breath, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Dahye.

Except, several more huffs follow, and Dahye is there to endure all of them: when they’re back in the tent, Eunbi slapping on some concealer to cover her dark circles, then trying to disguise her pallid complexion with blush, ending up groaning and turning to her concerned friend with drawn up eyebrows, “Did I overdo it?”; as she’s zipping up her white tennis skort; rummaging her bag for ages only to slip on the most basic black oversized t-shirt; taking forever to tie her Converses.

Dahye stalls. She’s aware they’re late, can sense it in the way Hoseok is subtly raising his voice outside to make himself heard, “It’s not like we’re totally late on our schedule. Take your sweet time, guys!” He’s sarcastic, if his shaky laughter is anything to go by.

She also knows she doesn’t want to be eaten alive by her best friend, knows better not to rush her right now. She’s had enough experience living with her. So she stays quiet, puts up with her friend’s small crisis and lets her deal with it on her own. Only when it seems like she’s over with it, Dahye calmly asks Eunbi if she feels like she’s ready to go. The answer is uncertain, but Dahye grasps on that small percentuality of sureness and exits the tent either way, before Hoseok turns out to be the one eating her alive.

When they finally step out to join the group, Eunbi releases one last dramatic sigh, and the prolonged sound of it translates into Dahye’s right eyelid twitching. She tries composedly, at first, “Bibi, will you stop doing that?”

”Doing what?”

”Sighing like you’re a damn war veteran!” Her exasperation draws a few chuckles from their friends, including a sneaky giggle from Jimin, observing the interaction and getting Dahye’s attention in the process.

Eunbi mutters a small sorry, the apology dismissed by her now distracted friend, seemingly having forgotten the whole ordeal in a matter of seconds. The other girl seizes the moment to vent, “I’m just getting more stressed by the minute about this whole thing. I told you I shouldn’t have come. What if, I don’t know— I get hurt?” Her eyebrows are raised, dramatic act on, pout displayed, “I’ll blame you.”

Dahye is clearly unimpressed, rolling her eyes amusedly at Eunbi’s efforts, “Bi, you’ll be okay. Just fine.” She faces the shorter one now, hands on her shoulders like a mother sending her child off to summer camp. Well, technically she is about to do that, “Why don’t you try mingling with the others? Let’s pretend I don’t exist. Yeah!”

Dahye’s convincing nods are comically mirrored by Eunbi shaking her head, the desperation on her features going ignored by her taller friend. The last thing she wants right now is exactly mingling with the others. Dahye goes on dissimulating, “Stick next to Namjoon. He, huh— he knows about this kinda stuff. I guess? I’ll catch up with Jimin, okay? Bye, babe!”

Eunbi’s childish protests fall on deaf ears as the other girl slips away. Her one anchor, gone. Not even her best pleading tactics have worked. The muffled curses under her breath are vile, and she wishes Jimin would just make a move on her friend already. Maybe then, all of this would make sense.

Still, she merges with the others. It’s hard to find her place in there, especially with the insecurities plaguing her mind, as everyone splits off into their little duos and trios. Taehyung and Seokjin try to pull her into their usual, weird hypothetical debates, “Let’s say you have a penis. Would you still jack off if when you came your semen was just one big sperm, and afterward you'd have to fight it?”

Despite herself, she enjoys the distraction. Trekking is not so bad when you desperately need your brain to unplug. The trail is not too far from the campsite, circling it and making it ideal for them to wander without getting lost. The summer air is warm, and heavy with the sweet scent of wildflowers and the earthy aroma of sun-warmed pine needles.

With the path gradually climbing uphill, the initially dense forest begins to thin, and with it Eunbi’s thoughts follow, loosening with each step. She’s not sure if it’s the silly joy filling her when colourful butterflies flutter past, or the brief interaction she entertains with a small chipmunk darting across the way, but there’s something calming about the rhythm of it all. The green all around her takes over her spiralling mind.

Eventually, Dahye’s suggestion turns out to be a good one, and soon Eunbi finds herself covering most part of the walk with Namjoon by her side, who’s a walking encyclopedia on the local fauna. His easy conversation and gentle humour slowly start to chip away at the tension in her shoulders. He’s good company— listens well, comes up with just the right responses, and somehow makes her feel less like she’s tagging along and more like she belongs.

Time slips away when being this disconnected to the chaos of the city but so connected to this bubble of green and quiet. Sharing that with her friends doesn’t make her worry about the clock, though. She laughs loudly, and speaks comfortably. And just like that, she’s unaware of the first two hours that go by with walking and chatting, this last part ceasing gradually when the path becomes steeper and more rugged, their breaths getting heavier with each large step. But the effort is worth it when they reach the summit and are rewarded with a breathtaking view. Eunbi’s eyes light up at the sight, even more so when she spots the perfect rock to plop down on and gulp water from her flask.

Before she can, it takes a few other seconds for her eyes to cover the whole scene, and when they do she notices Jeongguk. He’s sitting next to Iseul, his clothes similar to the ones Eunbi is wearing, just colour inverted with a white oversized t-shirt and black gym shorts. He doesn’t seem to be aware of her presence, yet. He’s laughing at something on the girl’s phone. Eunbi silently scoffs.

The attention is brought on her and Namjoon the moment the latter greets his friend, who acts as if she doesn’t exist. Eunbi is not any less of an actor, pretending to be much more interested in the panorama rather than the conversation the two men are having.

While her companion takes some pictures of the scenery, Eunbi drinks as much water as needed to feel hydrated without needing to go to the bathroom in the next 10 seconds. The walk is still long, and the campsite still far. For that reason, and totally not because she can’t stand the sight of Jeongguk sitting next to the short haired girl giggling about one of their inside jokes, she announces, “I’m ready to go again.”

Namjoon looks a bit taken aback, “Already?”

”Yeah. Let’s go.”

”You sure you don’t wanna rest?” Eunbi only shakes her head, fixing the backpack on her shoulders. The taller boy chuckles, “And here I thought you hated trekking.”

Eunbi lets out a genuine laugh. It’s refreshing to hear, even if she can feel the interaction being followed attentively by a pair of curious eyes, and when she gives in and looks their way, they immediately focus on the trees behind her. Whatever.

Just as she starts walking to follow behind Namjoon, her foot trips on a rock and she stumbles. Her first instinct, accompanied by a loud squeal, is to grab Namjoon’s shoulders for support, and luckily the boy promptly catches her. From the corner of her eye, she swears she sees Jeongguk nearly leaping to his feet. His hand twitches before he forces it back to his lap.

”Are you okay?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide with concern, hands steady on her forearms as he checks her foot with his gaze for any sprain, “Wait, your shoe is untied.”

He swiftly drops on his knee and works on the laces of her shoes, delicately inspecting her ankle in the process. Eunbi looks down at him, and she feels her cheeks flare slightly, both because of the embarrassment and the action feeling a little too intimate. She diverts her eyes, and her gaze automatically lands on Jeongguk. His face is immediately wiped from what, for a split second, looked like fright. Worry. He’s back to indifference, looking behind his shoulders, and she figures she must have imagined it.

”Can you walk?” Namjoon’s voice pulls her back, his figure now standing tall in front of her. She nods, shaking off the overwhelment, and assures she’s okay. Namjoon doesn’t believe her until she’s forced to take a walking test, going back and forth for one minute before he’s fully convinced she hasn’t twisted her ankle or anything.

When they set off again, laughter bubbles up between them as Namjoon cheekily makes fun of her squeal and her clumsiness, and Eunbi lightly shoves him. She’s glad she’s going through this with him; it’s making them closer and she finds they have so much more in common than she initially thought.

For a moment, she regrets not even sitting down for a second to rest, her feet protesting in her old Converses, but she quickly realises the other alternative and prefers having her legs hurt over being in the presence of Jeongguk, surrounded by quiet, and nature, and all the possible existent reasons to be kind to each other. Which they’re not really planning on doing, right now.

Even more with Iseul there. Eunbi doesn’t know why, but something about the girl rubs her the wrong way. It’s not like they ever got a chance to bond, but it feels like Iseul hasn’t even tried. They don’t have anything against each other, but the way she’s sticking to Jeongguk’s side after yesterday’s fiasco brings Eunbi to not really contemplate the possibility of them getting closer either.

The trail descends into a different path of the forest, this one denser and cooler, providing the duo with a break from the midday heat. Their pace is slower, and the talking quiets down too in favour of soaking in the tranquillity that surrounds them. Eunbi feels herself recover from the previous slip and sighs, this time contentedly.

The peace doesn’t last for long. Behind her shoulders, her ears pick up hurried footsteps, the cracking of the leaves stronger under them, the unmistakable sound of someone catching up. Eunbi doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, she can sense his presence like an itch she can’t scratch. Jeongguk reaches her, his voice almost touching her neck, “Can you move out of the way?”

There’s plenty of space. Hell, the path could fit five trucks. Her eyes close momentarily, searching for all the strength she needs to resist the provocation. She steps aside, set on not paying him too much mind. She doesn’t want to be affected by his tone. She’s decided to let him be, and think what he wants of her.

Jeongguk doesn’t seem too fond of the silence he’s met with, though. Was probably expecting her witty impulses to react. But she ignores him. He walks past her, but it looks like his initial aim at surpassing her goes forgotten. His steps are shorter, not covering big distances anymore and keeping him at an arm’s length from her, Iseul beside him oblivious to the tension.

He looks back after Eunbi thought he would limit himself to the snappy tone, but she was wrong, obviously, the glint in his eyes daring her to respond, “Wow, you’re really slow.”

Eunbi tries not to snap, she really tries. Thinks of brushing the comment with a simple dismissing chuckle, pretending it doesn’t make her hand twitch. Her tongue poke her inner cheek. But it’s like the minimal sight of him gets her burning with annoyance.

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t aware this was a marathon. Good luck winning!” Is this enough of a bitch answer? She hopes so, the smile that accompanies it deathly sarcastic. She just doesn’t want to deal with Jeongguk after last night. Fears the resentment is still too alive for her to handle it better.

Of course, he doesn’t back down from a good childish banter, though, “You’re still slow.”

”Well, I’m trekking.”

”And you’re seriously wearing Converses to do that.” His eyes fall to her feet with a delighted scoff. He’s unbelievable.

”So sorry I couldn’t afford trekking shoes.” The concern is clearly faked, and she hopes she just imagined Jeongguk rolling his eyes subtly.

”That’s why you’re slow.” He has the audacity to raise his eyebrows and shrug at Eunbi’s speechless state, the argument resulting in the dumbest interaction she’s had in days, leaving her pissed nonetheless.

Jeongguk rewinds his fast paced walk, not really considering poor Iseul trying to keep up with him. Both her and Namjoon are left disoriented with the meaningless bickering they found themselves spectators of, but they wisely stay silent to prevent stirring the pot further.

Eunbi, however, doesn’t even notice the sudden quiet, the thoughts screaming in her brain making up for it. She feels completely blindsided. All those times she tried to make even the smallest kind of conversation with him, she was ignored. Her smiles, kind requests and efforts to maintain a friendly demeanour— completely fucking dismissed. And now, just when she’d decided the best thing she could do for both of them was to back off, to give them each the space they needed to avoid any further animosity, what does he do? He searches for it. Purposefully searches for it, as if he wants to provoke some kind of reaction out of her. She’s so fed up. What’s his deal? Why seek out conflict when they were finally starting to find some semblance of peace in their indifference? It’s infuriating. She can’t help the small growl of frustration that escapes her lips. God, what an asshole.

A small scoff from Namjoon pulls her out of her daze, and she glances his way, her face a picture of confusion and irritation. The boy shakes his head, a faint, amused smile playing on his lips, “He can be, sometimes.”

It’s only then that she realises she must have muttered her last thought out loud. She laughs softly at her slip, sheepishly brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “Sorry about that. We’re just… not exactly on good terms, right now.”

Namjoon is silent as her admission hangs in the air, unpressured. Instead, he just nods, his eyes reflecting a quiet empathy, inviting but not intrusive. He’s giving her the choice, whether she wishes to open up or carry that baggage on her own. It’s not like he’s oblivious to the tension between her and Jeongguk; the whole group would agree it has been evident ever since Eunbi joined. But neither she nor Jeongguk offered any explanations, so there was no choice but to adapt to the hostility. Dahye had only once hinted at the fact that they’d known each other for a long time, letting it slip casually, much to Eunbi’s silent dismay, but beyond that, no other details were ever shared.

Eunbi hesitates. She trusts Namjoon, the way she trusts the others, really— would vomit all her feelings on his t-shirt right now. But it wouldn’t feel right to give only her side of the story, knowing Jeongguk has lived in the dark about certain truths for years. He probably harbours his own complicated feelings, ones he’s kept close to his chest for a long time, feelings that would be overshadowed by her own if she spoke out of turn. She doesn’t think it’s her place to say what happened.

The silence stretches on, and Eunbi is more conflicted with each passing second. Her eyes drift to the figure of Jeongguk moving farther away, his silhouette becoming smaller with every step until he rounds a corner and disappears from view. With him goes the moment, the possibility of Namjoon ever knowing what happened, at least from her. He seems to accept this, doesn’t push her to speak, and she appreciates it when he shifts the conversation, making a light-hearted comment about the trees and their unusual shapes. She smiles.

The afternoon sun beats down on them, making the air thick and sticky. Time drags on, more hours roll by, the trail winding endlessly through the woods. They find spots to sit now and then, taking short breaks to catch their breath. But the further they trek, the more Eunbi grows frustrated. Her calves ache, muscles burning from the climb, and she has to stop every so often to rub at them, cursing under her breath. Namjoon forces himself to not laugh at that, instead keeping his usual calm and patient, assuring her with a grin that they’re almost there. Though she’s pretty sure he’s just saying that to keep her spirits up.

Eventually, their slow pace brings them closer to some of the others who had lagged behind. They all wear the same weary expressions, the exhaustion etched into their features. They try to relieve some of it by distracting themselves from the thought of their feet hurting, one of them starting a game of Guess the Song by humming the melody. It quickly dissolves into a mess of off-key notes and missed beats, their tired brains unable to keep up, and it’s not long before they’re all laughing. The kind of belly laughs that make your sides ache.

Eunbi finds herself genuinely enjoying the moment, forgetting all about asking to sit down every five minutes, even catching herself humming along. She discovers Taehyung has quite a talent for singing, and notices how blatantly obvious Aera’s crush on him is.

By the time they finally reach the campsite, Eunbi feels a wave of relief wash over her, so strong it nearly brings tears to her eyes. The sun has started its descent, casting a golden glow over the clearing, and the heat of the day is beginning to be replaced by a cool, refreshing breeze that lifts the hair from her sweaty neck. She falls into step beside Dahye, who has reappeared after what feels like hours spent with Jimin. They don’t need words; they walk side by side in silence, until the shorter one bumps her shoulder lightly against Dahye’s, a knowing smile on her lips.

“Shut up,” the taller one rolls her eyes at the unspoken tease, though the grin on her face suggests she’s anything but annoyed.

Eunbi’s hands are immediately up in the air, mocking innocence, ”Didn’t say a single word.”

”Sure, you didn’t.” Dahye retorts, but her tone is playful. “Anyways, the others want to hit the lake before dinner. You in?”

”I’ll pass. I need a nap. I’m dead tired from all this. When I catch Hoseok, I swear.” Eunbi’s voice is half-joking, half-serious, her narrowed eyes suggesting she may be even a bit too serious, and Dahye just laughs.

They part ways, Eunbi disappearing in her tent and relishing the thought of a few quiet moments to herself. As much as she loves the company, sometimes it drains her. Sometimes, she just needs a moment to breathe, be with her own self and nobody else. Especially given the amount of times her sanity has been tested during the first two days of this trip.

Sleep comes to her easily, pulling her under as soon as her head hits the small, makeshift pillow. The muffled sounds of her friends outside — splashes from the lake, bursts of laughter — soothe her into a deep, much-needed, dreamless rest.

When she stirs awake, the sun has already dipped below the horizon, and she can feel the noises from the group much closer now. The air is filled with the mouth-watering aroma of roasting meat and vegetables, and it’s said delicious smell that puts her five senses to operate again. Her stomach grumbling wakes her before Dahye can, the tent flaps open just as her friend was about to poke her head inside.

Eunbi blinks awake groggily, stumbling out bleary-eyed, and Dahye mercilessly laughs at her still half-asleep face, “You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

”Fuck you.”

The teasing is playful, and Eunbi cheekily grins as her friend giggles. She wraps a hoodie around her shoulders to ward off the growing chill and keep some of the warmth from the nap, then makes her way to the fire where the others are gathered. When they take in her sleep-dazed state, they don’t miss a beat and start poking fun at her, pulling her hood up over her head or sneakily tickling her sides until she’s laughing despite herself. The laughter feels good, like a release, and she finds herself slowly waking up, becoming more aware, more present.

A large campfire crackles in the centre of the group, its flames dancing in the cool evening air, Yoongi and Seokjin in charge of dinner. Someone’s turned on a portable speaker, and soft music drifts through the campsite, blending with the sounds of laughter and the sizzle of food. Eunbi sits back, letting the warmth of the fire seep into her skin, content to simply listen, to watch the way the firelight plays across everyone’s faces.

It’s almost too easy to relax into the peaceful rhythm of the evening, her still vulnerable brain unwinding the tension she wasn’t aware of from her shoulders. The heat of the fire, the hum of laughter, and the quiet murmur of conversation blend together, creating a cocoon of comfort she hadn’t realised she needed. It’s as she starts letting herself be taken over by that familiar, soothing calm — the same one she’d found in her tent — that a faint alarm goes off in her brain. Its tiny beep only grows louder until it’s impossible to ignore. Something’s off. Her contentment feels misplaced. Like she’s forgotten a crucial detail that’s only now creeping back into her awareness.

The realisation slams into her like a wave, jolting her fully awake, the moment her gaze lands on Jeongguk. Suddenly, everything snaps back into sharp focus. His face, illuminated by the flickering firelight, is a stark reminder of the reality she had temporarily escaped. The events of the past few days come rushing back. Right, quick recap: she’s on Jeongguk’s birthday trip. Jeongguk, who can’t stand the sight of her. Jeongguk, who had called her a bitch last night. How could she almost forget that minor detail?

So here she is, in the middle of the woods, surrounded by friends and food, but all she can focus on is Jeongguk. The one person here who probably wishes she wasn’t. No sense dwelling on it now, though. She’s there, there’s no going back. Her only aim is to make it through the night. Make it through the night without repeating yesterday, or making things even worse. For that to happen, she just has to ignore the object of her epiphany like she has been trying to ever since the stressful day started. She hopes he’ll be smart enough to do the same.

It seems like it when dinner goes by without any notable tension, which is a small miracle in itself. Jeongguk seems just as engrossed by the food as she is, its hot, comforting and delicious taste being a welcome distraction, especially with that distinct smoky flavour from being cooked over the open fire. Everyone is too busy devouring their meals to talk much, but their sparkling eyes speak with gratitude for their hyungs’ magic hands. Eunbi uses the unusual quiet to gaze up at the sky, the stars slowly coming out to dot its darkening blue.

Though, peace never lasts long with this group. Jimin breaks the silence as he cracks open a beer bottle with a grin that spells mischief, “Let’s play a game.”

Taehyung, already leaning back in his chair with a lazy smile, nods, chiming in, “Since we’ve got alcohol, how about Never Have I Ever?”

”Just don’t ask stupid questions because you want to get drunk,” Dahye warns, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Her comment earns a round of laughter, easing the tension that had settled during the quiet, their voices soon overtaking the crackling of the fire once again.

Jimin hands the beer bottles, making sure everyone has one as he sits back with a teasing glint in his gaze. He locks eyes with Dahye, challenging her, “Okay, I got the perfect one, then. Never have I ever… pooped.”

The absurdity of the statement catches the others off guard, and they all erupt in silly chuckles, taking a sip. Except for Dahye, who sits there with a perfectly straight face. Jimin raises an eyebrow, expectantly waiting for her to drink, but she just shrugs, “Girls don’t poop.”

The girls echo her sentiment with mock seriousness, filling the camp with sarcastic agreements and playful banter, while a debate kicks off between Dahye and Jimin about the biological impossibility of her assertion. It’s cut short when Iseul eagerly starts smacking Jeongguk’s thigh by her side, her excitement palpable and getting everyone’s attention in the process, “Ooh, I got one! Never have I ever stolen something.”

Most of the group drinks at that, Yoongi snorting blatantly, and Iseul frowns in disappointment, expecting a different outcome. Dahye chuckles, “Babe, everyone’s stolen at some point. That was too easy. It’s okay, let’s just keep going. Jeongguk, your turn.”

Next to Iseul, Jeongguk seems to think for a moment, then he grins, “Never have I ever… rode a motorcycle.” He gulps down a big sip from his bottle.

”Are you looking to get drunk tonight, Ggukie?” It’s his best friend teasing him with wiggling eyebrows, and the younger just shrugs with a lazy smirk.

Eunbi drinks too, at that. Now that she thinks of it, the first and only time she was on a bike, Jeongguk was taking her home and she was holding her arms tight around his torso, his helmet secured under her chin and his jacket wrapped around her body. That’s the last nice gesture she’s seen from him, and the thought stirs something complicated in her chest. She glances at him without meaning to, catching his eye for just a second before they both look away.

Hoseok is quick with another question, “Never have I ever gone skinny-dipping.”

Only Seokjin and Sora drink, and the group teases them with a long, exaggerated holler. The two love birds share a sheepish smile, their faces turning a soft shade of pink under the firelight.

”We should all do that right now.” It’s Taehyung proposing it, his tone half-serious, half-challenging.

Dahye pulls a face, “The thought alone is making me want to vomit.” She mutters, and the laughter that follows becomes the soundtrack of their night for what feels like hours, the game stretching on with each question getting weirder and more personal.

The beer flows freely, and Eunbi finds herself relaxing more than she expected, her body sinking comfortably into her chair. She laughs at Hoseok’s ridiculous question about eating bugs and groans at Jimin recalling the time he laughed so hard he pissed his pants as an adult, sipping on her bottle as the group continues to tease one another.

The loop restarts for the nth time, Iseul piping up again, “Never have I ever sneaked out.”

Surprisingly, only Namjoon, Jeongguk and Eunbi drink this time. The reaction is immediate, the group’s interest piqued, Dahye curiously turning to her friend, “When was that, Bibi?”

Eunbi doesn’t register the implications of her light giggle, nor the way her eyes soften as she gets caught up in the memory, “Back when I was in middle school.” Young and restless, desperate for the thrill. Besides her forever best friend.

Always a bit more noisy than he should be, Hoseok chimes in, “Were you with anyone?”

She chuckles, the answer coming to her lips almost instinctively, “Oh, I was with—“ Her gaze flickers to Jeongguk, and suddenly the smile drops from her face. Right. She always seems to forget where they stand now. It’s like the kid inside her is still desperately clinging to those moments, fighting to have him back, to drag him into her orbit.

Jeongguk lets out a small scoff, barely audible over the crackling fire, but she catches it. His expression is closed off, guarded. Eunbi clears her throat, “Huh, it doesn’t matter.”

The air grows thick with tension, the silence that follows almost deafening. Some of them understand the awkwardness, sensing the history that neither Eunbi nor Jeongguk ever fully explained. Others, like Hoseok, are a little clueless. He turns to the other boy, grinning like a cat who caught the canary, “Ooh, Ggukie, you drank too, right? Who was it with?”

Jeongguk shrugs, a dark, unamused smirk spreading across his lips. His eyes don’t leave Eunbi, his tone sarcastic but cold, “Apparently, it doesn’t matter.”

The affronted girl narrows her eyes, trying to mask the sting of his tone. The jab hits deeper than she’d like to admit, even more when they both know exactly why she said that. Why she had to say it. Unspeakable words are plastered on their wounded expressions, but she looks down at her hands before her heart betrays her, fighting its way up her throat to scream them all out.

It’s ironic how the questions that follow feel like one stab after the other, almost purposefully touching a raw nerve from the past, memories she’d rather not revisit now. Never have I ever used someone else’s toothbrush. Never have I ever climbed out a window. It’s small, silly moments that she knows — hopes — Jeongguk remembers too. And she can’t help but search for that sign of recognition in his face. Or anything, at this point. The slightest spark in his eyes. The imperceptible jolt of his hand. She wants to tell him. It matters. It matters. It matters.

But does it matter to him now? Did every single piece of the puzzle get lost in the storm? Did Jeongguk always feel so unreachable? Were his eyes always so devoid of light when he looked at her? She misses stargazing.

When the weight on her heart becomes too much to bear, the weariness from the day and the effects of the sleepless night tangling with the complicated emotions she’s feeling and translating into frustrated tears welling up in her eyes, she gets up muttering a half-hearted excuse about being tired and heads for her tent.

Inside, focusing on the fabric ceiling rather than both her heart and brain exceptionally teaming up only to scream at her to find a way to escape from all this (maybe steal Namjoon’s car keys, or swim her way back to the city), she wills her eyes to close and begs whatever god who might be listening to spare her from more misery. Just for tomorrow. Please.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The divinities Eunbi tried to reach with her desperate pleas must have been terribly busy last night, because tomorrow is here and it’s charged with even more tension and hostility than she thought they could ever harbour for one another.

Today’s activity is canoeing, and with the surprisingly adequate amount of sleep she managed to get, her first approach is even optimistic. She’s decided to start off with the positive mindset that things couldn’t possibly get any worse. Sat in the small two-person canoe, she’s determined to steer the day in a better direction, to navigate the rough waters of their fraught relationship. Even if a new wave of something worse than what already happened is aimed directly at her, she’d be able to handle it.

Only thing she didn’t exactly consider was the counterpart of the clash possibly not sharing the same intentions as hers. Which is exactly what is happening, Jeongguk never backing down from stirring the pot further only to obtain a rank, grisly soup made with pettiness and resentment, spoon-feeding it to her with every chance he gets. Though she can still say she’s tasted worse from him, the bitterness lingers, coating her tongue like bile.

The setting for their little showdown is picturesque, almost mockingly so. The river glimmers under the afternoon sun, its surface reflecting a golden hue that dances across the water, and the hills in the distance are bathed in a soft, amber glow. Nature itself is trying to soothe the tension, yet it only seems to amplify the dissonance. The universe must be testing her. Can you handle this one, Bee?

The group naturally splits off into pairs, reflecting yesterday’s layout, with Eunbi and Namjoon finding themselves navigating together, just as Dahye is with Jimin, and Jeongguk with Iseul. It starts off peacefully enough. They glide slowly along the river, their paddles dipping gently into the water, the only sound the quiet murmurs of conversation and the occasional splash.

Eunbi allows herself to relax. She chuckles at Namjoon’s poor attempts at taking aesthetically pleasing pictures of her, then shows him how it’s done when she points the camera at him, sealing the moment with a lovely shot of her friend enveloped in an ochre light, his dimples sheepishly showing. She grazes the cold water with her finger, getting lost in the simple way it dances with her movements. She closes her eyes and tilts her face up to the sun, letting its warmth seep into her skin.

Though she should have anticipated the serenity being almost surreal, and should have considered herself deranged to even think it could continue like that. She’s pulled out of her moment when the water beside her canoe suddenly churns with agitation.

What she sees on her right is a sight that throws all the optimism and positivity from this morning right in the bin, and replaces it with the effects of Jeongguk’s wicked soup. Said chef shoots past her at an unnecessary, almost reckless speed for what’s supposed to be a leisurely excursion among friends. His canoe slices through the water with aggressive precision, sending ripples crashing against Eunbi’s boat. See, she would keep her composure in any other situation; would continue straight on her path of ignoring him, no matter how unsuccessful the previous attempts had been. She’s afraid she’ll keep failing, though.

And it’s really just because when she sees how he’s paddling with a furious intensity, his muscles straining with effort while Iseul is squealing and screaming in front of him, her hands gripping the sides of the boat as she begs him to slow down, it’s clear Jeongguk is doing it on purpose. Acting out another one of his plans to get a reaction out of her, not caring how down things could go at that point. Why should she, then? It’s when his eyes lock onto hers as he passes, daring to push all her buttons, that she finds her answer.

Eunbi’s blood boils. She’s speechless with the immaturity, but best believe she’s coming on ten times stronger with it. She just can’t wrap her mind around the fact that it seems the more she tries to interact with him, the more she gets pushed away; but the more she keeps her distance, the more he seeks for her reaction. What is he trying to prove? What is he aiming to get out of her? Eunbi doesn’t exactly have time to entertain the moral, rational part of her brain and puzzle over his motives, her own childishness busying her with gripping the paddles tight, her knuckles turning white as she channels all her frustration into rowing. She puts all the strength she can muster to try and catch up to Jeongguk without popping a vein. Namjoon notices the sudden shift in pace, even if minimal with Eunbi’s laughable efforts at moving faster, nonetheless startled by the abrupt burst of energy.

”Bi, what are you—“

”Joon, help me overtake Gguk.” It’s said through gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, fixated only on the target ahead. Namjoon is disoriented. Does she even realise the use of the nickname? It doesn’t look like that as she keeps going undeterred, even with her companion initially not collaborating, too confused to settle on what to do. Eventually, he sighs and grips his own paddle, deciding to help his friend in whatever battle she’s waging. He glances back to see just how far Jeongguk has gotten and shakes his head.

”You two are literal kids, you do know that?” Namjoon mutters, his comment going ignored.

Jeongguk, meanwhile, senses them closing in. A competitive glint flashes in his eyes. He doubles down, paddling harder, sending more water splashing in every direction. Eunbi isn't far behind, and for a moment it feels like they’re the only two on the river, locked in this ridiculous race. They’re both too stubborn to back down, too caught up in their own challenge to notice how idiotic they look.

Namjoon sighs again, raising his voice over the chaos, “Guys, seriously, this is getting out of hand.”

Iseul echoes his concern, a nervous edge to her voice, “Yeah, Joon’s right. Please, Ggukkie? We’re getting too far away from the others. It’s going to be a nightmare rowing back!”

Her whines go unnoticed by Jeongguk, who keeps his gaze straight on Eunbi as she has managed to catch up and is now beside him, mirroring that same flame in her orbs. He distractly acknowledges the two innocent spectators, “I just wanted to go and see… that thing over there.” He calls back, voice strained as he keeps his eyes locked on his rival. He doesn’t even know what he’s pointing at— there’s nothing but more water and distant trees.

”Oh, that… thing,” Eunbi adds, equally unconvincing. They exchange a glance, both wearing narrowed eyes and gritted teeth, determined not to be the first to admit defeat.

Their canoes race neck and neck, the water splashing around them as if reflecting the tension in the air. It’s a childish competition, one that speaks to their unresolved feelings, both wanting to interact, to be noticed by the other, but neither willing to show it’s because they care.

And mostly, it’s messy. Definitely not what two people should be attempting to do on their first time canoeing. On one side, their inexperience comes handy as it doesn’t completely isolate them from the starting point, but it still shouldn’t be happening. And it becomes more and more frantic as shown by their drawn faces and clumsy movements. A disaster of any kind should have been predicted at any second from that only.

It happens when Jeongguk leans too far over the edge, his canoe wobbling dangerously. Iseul lets out a high-pitched scream, gripping the sides of the boat. Eunbi’s heart leaps into her throat, all thoughts of their petty race forgotten in an instant.

“Gguk, careful!” She shouts, her voice thick with concern. Without thinking, she reaches out with her paddle, trying to steady his canoe from a distance. For a moment, everything else falls away— the tension, the bickering, the hurt. All she sees is him, about to fall, and her instinct to protect him kicks in.

Jeongguk manages to regain his balance just in time, his canoe righting itself with a lurch. Everything pauses. He lets out a breath of relief, a small, surprised chuckle escaping his lips. Eunbi exhales too, a soft, almost involuntary smile forming on her face. It lasts a second, but it feels like more when they share a look different from all the others. Relief. I’m glad you’re safe. Recognition. Thank you. Stillness.

But then reality snaps back into place. They both realise what they’re doing, and their expressions harden almost simultaneously. Eunbi quickly looks away, her face flushing with embarrassment. Jeongguk mutters, self-reproaching, “God, this is so stupid.”

The brief moment of softness vanishes the instant Eunbi catches his words, and she snaps, her voice rising childishly with indignation, “You started this!”

Jeongguk scoffs, “Me? You’re the one who wanted to overtake me!”

“You were the one paddling like a maniac!”

“I literally almost fell in the water because of you.”

Eunbi’s eyes get unbelievably wider with disbelief, a sarcastic laugh escaping her, “Oh, that was not because of me. That’s because you are incompetent.”

“Don’t throw big words at me now.”

“Sorry, I’ll lower my vocabulary down for you to understand.”

The childish bickering stretches on for astonishingly long minutes, the volume of their voices rising over the gentle sounds of the river. Namjoon, who had been rowing quietly, finally has enough. With a frustrated sigh, he takes the paddles and makes it his own solo mission to row back toward the others by himself, muttering under his breath, “I can’t believe I have to do this.”

His comment is mostly drowned out by the relentless sparring between Eunbi and Jeongguk, who are too engrossed in their argument to notice that Namjoon is now paddling alone, their strained voices echoing across the water. Jeongguk even goes as far as to row his canoe back behind his hyung’s just so he can have the last word in. It’s ridiculous, really— a silly argument born from a place neither of them is willing to acknowledge.

“Wow, that’s real mature of you, Eunbi. What’s next, you gonna stick your tongue out at me?”

She bristles, her cheeks flushing with the effort the rage is taking out of her, “I might as well if you keep acting like a dick!”

Jeongguk sneers, “Oh, please. I’m not the one who started this whole stupid race.”

Eunbi is aware the more she keeps it going, the more she’ll fall right into his trap but she fears she’s already too deep to back down now, “You were showing off!”

“And you were just so jealous you couldn’t stand it.”

“Enough! Both of you!” It’s Namjoon who finally snaps, his voice cutting through the chaos like a whip. He gives the oars a decisive pull, the canoe cutting through the water with renewed force. His voice is stern, and much different from the calm tone Eunbi has grown accustomed to, his patience had clearly worn thin, “I can’t believe I’m stuck in the middle of this… whatever this is. My ears are bleeding. If you two want to sort out whatever childish feud you’re having, do it on dry land. And away from me.”

The sudden authority in the older guy’s voice silences them both, and the quiet that falls upon them is as much a blessing as deafening. There’s a beat of awkward tension as they both realise how ridiculous they must look. Two grown adults behaving like squabbling children and shut down by their yelling, frustrated father. The reality of the situation finally starts to sink in. They’re too far from the rest of the group, their petty race having pulled them far off, all because of their stubbornness and bruised egos.

What follows is what should have surrounded them right from the beginning, stillness only interrupted by the flushing of the water as it gets caressed by their paddles rowing back to their initial position. Eunbi’s face burns with embarrassment, and with the realisation of how low she’s stooped. The urge to apologise to Namjoon itches at the back of her throat, but pride prevents her from doing it in front of Jeongguk.

No one dares add a word, not even a breath too loud, the tension lingering but now tinged with a sense of shame. Other than the rhythmic splash of their oars and the distant laughter of their friends, the only sound that can be occasionally heard is Namjoon’s bewildered scoffs and muttered comments. The other two know better than to cut the thin thread they’re all clutching onto.

But the chop comes, and it’s Iseul’s voice breaking the silence, soft and tentative, “You know, we’re all here to have fun. Can we just… try to get along for a little while?”

Eunbi has to bite her tongue. Otherwise, she fears any words that might leave her lips could permanently push Iseul away from the already slim possibility of them becoming friends. She keeps her eyes closed, a long exhale escaping her lips, irritation flaring up at the simplicity of the comment. As if it hadn’t already crossed her mind that they should be getting along. What a genius idea, truly.

Jeongguk seems to notice the tense silence that follows, especially the tightness in Eunbi’s expression and how Iseul’s well-meaning comment has only added fuel to the fire. He turns to his companion and offers her a reassuring smile, even if it feels a bit forced, “It’s okay, Isu. Let’s just head back.” His tone is gentle, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere, the nod that accompanies it recognising her effort, as well as its effective uselessness.

Taking in Jeongguk’s unnecessary, oversweet tone towards the other girl involuntarily causes Eunbi to scoff audibly, the sound loud and deliberate, followed by nothing. She keeps her gaze fixed on the water, refusing to look at either of them. But she feels Jeongguk’s narrowed eyes on her, “What now?”

”Nothing,” Eunbi mutters, the sarcasm in her tone cutting through the air. “Just love how you can turn on the charm when it suits you.”

Jeongguk’s jaw tightens for what feels like the nth time, fearing a possible cramp soon affecting the muscles of his mouth, but he keeps his response measured, “I’m just trying to not make this worse.”

A fake coo follows, Eunbi’s voice mockingly replicating his sudden calmness, “Oh, how nice of you, Ggukkie.”

“For the love of God, will you two drop it? Please?” Namjoon’s frustrated groan interrupts once again the bickering from stretching on, his patience truly at its limit. He increases the pace of his rowing, as if trying to physically distance himself from the scene.

The uncomfortable silence lingers for the rest of the paddling back, and it stretches on endlessly, mirroring the distance they’ve travelled in their pointless, self-inflicted race. If it isn’t the consequences of their own stupid actions. Eunbi dips her paddle in the water with more intention, fixating on the ripples spread out from each stroke, refusing to meet Namjoon’s annoyed gaze. She’s ashamed of the way she’s let her emotions and bottled up feelings rule a situation that could have been easily avoided, though she stubbornly refuses to fully acknowledge it, let alone admit that she might be in the wrong.

Still, Eunbi uses the time it gets to reach the shore to work on her breathing, counting every pause between her exhales, willing to free her mind from the chaotic flow of thoughts before she regrets letting them cling to her like a shadow and cause a bigger scene. The sight of the land approaching should bring some relief, but instead it only amplifies the sense of urgency gnawing at her. The moment the canoe nudges against the land, the sun beginning its descent, bathing the landscape in a warm light, Eunbi wastes no time making herself aware of her surroundings, as she’s already on her feet, moving with a speed that betrays her desperation to escape the tension that’s been suffocating her.

She’s unsteady as she steps out, the ground feeling oddly solid beneath her after the wobbly rhythm of the canoe. Namjoon notices her haste and instinctively reaches out to steady her, but she’s stepping away, her shoes sinking into the damp shore.

”I’m going back to the campsite,” Eunbi says, her voice clipped, the words barely more than a whisper after the raw shouting followed by complete muteness.

Namjoon, still seated, frowns as he looks up at her. Concern clouds his features, and he’s quick to offer, “Wait for me, I’ll take you back.”

Eunbi shakes her head, her refusal as gentle as it is resolute. A tight-lipped smile plays on her lips, though it doesn’t reach her eyes, “You should stay and enjoy the rest of the day.”

There’s a sheepish, unspoken apology written in her eyes, a fleeting look of regret that she’s too proud to voice. She unconsciously scrunches her nose, a telltale sign of her lingering embarrassment, and doesn’t even register Namjoon’s nod as she turns to start walking, eager to put distance between herself and the situation, but mostly from Jeongguk’s attentive eyes still throwing jabs her way.

As she walks back to the tents, Eunbi’s mind is already racing ahead to dinner. It’s been her biggest concern for a while now, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach, an instinctive dread that tonight will go as badly as she fears. Dinner always seems to bring out the worst in them, the frustration of the day simmering just below the surface until it boils over and erupts in sharp words and bitter exchanges. She can feel that exact feeling brewing dangerously in her stomach, but she knows she’d rather suppress it than have it consume her completely only for more pieces of her heart to break.

Dropping onto one of the deck chairs around the campsite, she waits for it to dissipate with her knees up to her chest. It’s hard at first, the sudden quiet too loud and overwhelming her with the pent up exasperation from today. It only fuels that part of her that still hasn’t moved on from the very first night, the one that set the tone for everything that followed, who harbours anger and spite for what Jeongguk had spat in her face with apparently no remorse. She wants to get back at him, to make him regret those words, to hurt him as much as he’s hurt her. But the bigger, remaining part of her knows she’s already done enough of that.

Would it even be worthy? What would she gain from it? Would getting back at Jeongguk truly bring her any peace, or would it only deepen the rift between them? She knows the answer, but it’s a bitter pill to swallow. Normally, she wouldn’t let any other person get away so easily with such a comment, but with Jeongguk, she’s aware he has lived with worse feelings for years, and that probably isn’t even the worst of what his heart holds. She’s not ready to wake that monster. Doesn’t know if she’s prepared to confront the truth behind the look he gives her. Doesn’t want to know if that truth is dictated by resentment, or if it’s all that’s left of her in Jeongguk’s view. Because if she’s honest with herself, no matter how angry she is, she can’t deny that she understands why he feels this way. And that understanding, more than anything, is what terrifies her the most.

Hours slip by in a blur, Eunbi stilling on her chair and giving space for her thoughts to unleash before it’s too late to put a collar back on again. The sun continues its descent, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, and when it dips down the horizon, the campfire that has been just a pile of logs earlier is now crackling with life, its warmth spreading through the group as they gather for dinner. The smell of grilled food wafts through the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the forest and the cool breeze.

It’s a comforting atmosphere, one that’s filled with laughter and easy conversation, but Eunbi is yet to be shaken out her trance to realise none of what she fears is reflecting in the reality surrounding her. Only when Dahye finds a spot on the seat next to hers and launches into a breathless retelling of apparently the craziest experience she’s had so far during the trip earlier at the river, Eunbi reconnects with the present, and disconnects from the almost maniac way she’s been analysing her thoughts alone all evening.

As she follows Dahye’s lips moving, acknowledging her with small nods and chuckles that the storytelling gets out of her, she finds she’s been making one huge mistake all this while. She’s always been so wrapped up in her own fears, her need to control the narrative and anticipate the next emotional blow, that she’s missed the simple reality of what’s unfolding around her. The night easily moves forward without the weight of her expectations pressing down on it.

Maybe she doesn’t have to anticipate every move, every subtle shift in the atmosphere. Maybe she doesn’t have to keep trying to predict what Jeongguk might say or how the night might fall apart. For the first time, she lets herself be present— really present. She lets herself feel the warmth of the fire, hear the laughter of her friends without reading too much into it, lets herself stop preparing for a storm that isn’t coming.

There’s a quiet revelation in that. Tonight, she doesn’t want to brace herself for another argument or another disappointment. She can simply allow the peace of the moment to wash over her, instead of waiting for the worse. And by the time the stars are twinkling overhead and her tummy is full, she allows herself to let go of the anger and just be.

It’s when they start another one of their games that she fully lets her guard down and doesn’t focus on anything in particular, just how genuine her laughs resound in her own ears. Once again, it’s Jimin suggesting it, eyes twinkling, “How about a story-telling challenge? We each say one line and keep the story going around the circle.”

Eunbi chuckles and nods, feeling a flicker of excitement at the idea. It’s been a while since she’s done something as silly and spontaneous. They all shuffle closer, forming a tight circle around the fire, the flickering flames dancing in their eyes. Taehyung starts them off, his voice solemn as he leans in, “Once upon a time, in a forest much like this one, there was a squirrel who could sing opera.”

It’s impossible to keep straight faces at first, but they all try. The mock-seriousness in Taehyung’s tone only makes it funnier, and the story takes off from there, spiralling into absurdity. Hoseok follows up, voice filled with faux sorrow, “And this squirrel, right? He had a tragic backstory. He lost his most precious acorn in a dramatic flood.”

The more the tale escalates, the more their giggles can’t be stopped, with the squirrel also being a secret agent for a woodland spy network side by side with his best friend, a tap-dancing raccoon who dreamed of opening a dance studio in the big city. Seokjin adds that the talented animal was also training to perform in a world-renowned animal talent show, but was being sabotaged by a jealous porcupine who could juggle flaming pinecones.

Yoongi, usually the voice of reason, surprisingly leans into the layers of idiocy rather than trying to steer it back to some semblance of order, “The porcupine is actually being helped by an evil ninja rabbit who only speaks in riddles.” His voice carries a playful tone, and Eunbi can’t help but reflect his same look on her own face— unforced, genuine.

The fire crackles louder in response, almost as if laughing along with them and cheering them on. By the time the story comes back around to Jimin, he leans in with a grin caught up in the fun, “And then! The raccoon finally achieves his dream of opening a dance school in the city where all the animals can learn tap-dancing and perform in the biggest talent show ever.”

There’s a beat of silence before they all burst out laughing again, though this time it’s mixed with good-natured teasing. Namjoon chuckles and shakes his head, “Okay, now you’re just projecting.“

Hoseok, grinning from ear to ear, chimes in, “Yeah, come on, you’re turning this into your own personal dream story.”

Taehyung, never missing a beat, adds, “Next thing you know, you’ll have the raccoon choreographing the whole animal kingdom.”

The teasing banter continues, the group’s laughter bouncing off the trees. But Eunbi, still a little out of sync with their inside jokes, blinks in confusion, “Wait, what? What do you mean, reflecting yourself?”

The laughter fades, and Jimin turns to her, a bit of a sheepish grin on his face, “Oh, it’s just… I’ve always loved dancing. It’s been a silly dream of mine to— you know, maybe open a dance studio when I’m older.”

Eunbi’s eyes widen, genuine surprise lighting her features, “Wow, I had no idea. That’s so cool, Jimin! Seriously, I didn’t know that about you.”

There’s a brief, awkward pause, in which Jimin’s smile softens at her reaction, but before he can say anything more, Jeongguk scoffs audibly. The sound cuts through the moment like a sharp blade. He’s leaning back, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowing at Eunbi with something between disdain and frustration but his tone unbothered, “That’s basic Jimin knowledge. Everyone knows that.”

Once again, Eunbi couldn’t have anticipated Jeongguk being on a completely different agenda. She should have known, she’s aware of that. But she hadn’t wanted to. She only wanted to go by the foolish belief that tonight would be different. That just for one evening they could coexist in the same space, be civil, even share a laugh.

It was a naive hope. And now, standing crosshairs of Jeongguk’s fiery glaze, not only with the glow of the flames, she realises just how mistaken she’s been. How stupid it was of her to think Jeongguk wouldn’t jump at the possibility of adding fuel to the fire. Because, right now, she finds herself utterly unprepared to read his clenched jaw, contrasting with the careless, almost indifferent posture he tries to maintain. She struggles to predict how it might develop if she uses a slightly different tone, or takes more time to respond.

She doesn’t remember moving around Jeongguk ever being this difficult. The physical closeness forced upon them by this trip only makes the emotional distance between them more glaring. They might be sitting around the same campfire, but it’s clear from the way he bristles at her every word, every gesture, that in Jeongguk’s mind, she’s universes away. And it’s exactly where he wants her to stay. No spaceship will bring her back. There’s nowhere she can land on his planet.

Eunbi’s exhaustion reaches its breaking point. She’s tired of pretending she’s okay with this. Fed up with letting remorse gnaw at her insides and reduce her to a punching bag for his barely-contained rage. Willing to take every fist thrown her way, rendering her vulnerable to his every attempt at breaking her down. Though what she feels is not resentment. It’s pure, bone-deep weariness. She doesn’t want to take this tug of war any further. If letting go of the idea of fixing things between them is what he wants, she’ll give him that.

With a sigh, she lowers her gaze to her hands for a moment, her fingers twitching unconsciously. Time and time again, she’s the reason why the group can’t go a few hours without being drawn into their venomous war.

Her eyes glisten with shame and helplessness as she looks back up, her voice reflecting anything but that weakness, its sharp and snappy tone overtaking the crackling fire, “What is your problem?”

Differently from the silence that stretched on after the unnecessary jab caught her by surprise, each second going by the ticks of a bomb ready to explode and wipe out the frivolity of the night, Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t even give her the courtesy of pretending to think it over. His response comes swiftly, harshly, as if he’s been waiting for the question all night, “My problem? My problem is that you’re here.”

Eunbi can’t help but scoff. It’s not meant to be arrogant, nor mocking. It’s almost an instinctive reaction, a defence mechanism against the disbelief that rises in her throat. Her words drip with sarcasm, though her voice remains calm, “Oh, I’m sorry I wanted to do something nice for you with the others.”

Jeongguk’s gaze is steady, unwavering, and his next words land like a punch to the gut, “Well, you shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t be here.”

Though she can say she’s gotten better at enduring, it still stings. None of that shows on her face, unflinching, neutral. A biting smile tugs at her lips, though it doesn’t reach her eyes, “Trust me, I know.”

There’s a pause— one brief, agonising moment where she thinks maybe, just maybe, this is still part of their aimless bickering that has been going on the past two days, a spat that will blow over.

But then Jeongguk speaks again, and his voice is so distant it’s even hard to hear him clearly, “I hope you do. You don’t belong here.”

Silence stretches on, the fire crackling softly the only sound between them. She’s sure everyone has stopped breathing, their exhales stuck up in their throat, afraid of releasing them, of stepping foot into something that doesn’t concern them.

Jeongguk’s eyes never leave hers, the coldness in them piercing through the thin veil of pretence they’ve both been clinging to. He doesn’t stop there, his voice deathly quiet, “Not with me. Not with the others. Can’t you see that?”

Eunbi’s heart lurches. She thinks she would prefer being called every name in the book. Have Jeongguk spit at her for all the pain she put him through. Say anything he wants about her being an awful person. But he knows just how to twist the knife. Still knows how to read her every faltering step, the doubts behind her eyes, the insecurities plaguing her mind. Surely, he also still knows how to be the one feeding her the desperate acceptance she needs, the assurance that none of her fears are true. So many times Jeongguk was there to swear she’s loved; that she wouldn’t be left alone ever again.

But now, he decides to use all that knowledge to spin it against her, to push all the right buttons that he knows will hurt her most. She doesn’t belong here. It’s what her mind has whispered to her over and over again since she stepped foot in his sacred circle, an outsider next to Dahye. She has been good at ignoring those hushed tones, to convince herself they’re lies. That these people are her friends, and they all see her as part of the group. That her fears were unfounded.

The proof her haunting thoughts have been right all along is in front of her though, and it presses down on her chest. It’s too much— too raw, too real. She should have seen it coming, but she’s still speechless. Her throat tight, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Though she refuses to let them fall for eleven pairs of eyes to watch. For his eyes to glow with satisfaction.

Eunbi manages to laugh bitterly, though the sound is hollow, “Right. Well, thanks for making it clear.” With her hands trembling slightly, hiding it by clenching them into fists at her sides, she pushes herself to her feet, “I’ll go now. Enjoy your night. Asshole.”

Her voice wavering on the last word, Eunbi turns and walks away from the fire, the warmth of it barely touching her anymore. She doesn’t let herself falter as she heads toward her tent, her footsteps hurried, the chill of the night settling in around her.

And as she shields herself from the outside world, its sounds accompanied by the group’s muttered voices escalating with agitation, words she won’t try to register, she doesn’t bother giving herself a headache trying to hold the tears in. This time, she lets them spill over freely, each one carrying the weight of every single one of her fears. She keeps the sobs in her chest, whimpering with the signals of panic taking over. And now more than ever, she really wishes she just wasn’t here.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

When it comes to this time of the year, Jeongguk inevitably becomes the worst version of himself. It’s a cruel irony that it all resurfaces right as his birthday approaches. It’s been that way for years now. In the beginning, when he was still in Busan, he found it hard to blow the candles on his cake without his shoulders feeling heavy, his eyes involuntarily searching for someone that was no longer there; with the unanswered questions dulling the sounds around, leaving him desensitised to the love so blatantly in front of him.

It took him a while to accept it, even with a missing spot unfilled. Jeongguk has never been good with changes. Has always lived by an unwavering, straight path on which he walked confidently, jumping over the cracks on the ground and ignoring any turns. The only deviation he allowed was the one that led him to Seoul. It was a long wait before the stoplight turned green, his own doubts plaguing him even with his parents’ encouragement; and when it did, he crossed the road alone reluctantly, glancing back more than once.

Jeongguk found that this lane was a little less preserved and far less predictable than the one he took his very first steps on. It was full of bumps, a lot of them causing him to trip and fall face first into the concrete. So many dead ends that forced him to make a choice, left or right. But on those same streets, he also recognised elements from the previous block: his love for filmography, the very reason he came to the capital; his mom’s goodnight tune, even over the phone; his thick Busan accent, instantly mirrored into Jimin’s own; the creeping dread as his birthday approached.

There are things he never fully got over, and every year, when August rushes to an end and September looms, he becomes highly aware of it. But over time, he’s learned to live with it. The questions that once consumed him have no answers, and he came to terms with the fact that he couldn’t help what happened. What he’s always had control over, however, was the small key to an even smaller room in his brain, where with great effort he locked Eunbi away once he turned 17.

She tried to break free multiple times, banging on the door and begging to be let out. Jeongguk even had to get maintenance on the lock. Eventually she quieted down, and only ever stirred whenever she knew September was coming from the little calendar she had hung up in the cramped space.

Jeongguk learned to handle it. The memories were still alive, but they didn’t hurt him the way they used to. They felt distant, resurfacing only when he himself noticed the final days of August being crossed on his own calendar. Using a red marker to draw those lines, his fingers still tingled with something close to familiar uneasiness. Sometimes, if it managed to spread to his whole body, it would overtake him, and in the days leading up to his birthday he’d snap more easily, feel more irritated.

But he’d gotten better at controlling it. Last year, his first time turning a year older in a place that wasn’t Busan, he didn’t even feel it. It might have been all the new, shiny people surrounding him in the small flat he was renting with Jimin, the fresh adrenaline from making sure he was feeding his friends with a fun time clouding every other thought. Back in that room, Eunbi peacefully slept through the entirety of it. Even forgot to wish him a happy birthday.

With the real Eunbi physically standing in front of him, all of Jeongguk’s efforts to keep her locked away shattered in one, insignificant instant. It only took a snap of the little-version-of-her in his brain for every wall he’d meticulously built to come crashing down. The door he had so carefully sealed off was now flung open, and little Eunbi burst through, running wild, mingling with thoughts she had no business messing with and wreaking havoc on all those parts of his mind that had been closed off, at least until that moment.

Behind her, an unstoppable flood of emotions he’d long buried surged in, filling his mind until it couldn’t hold any more. It spread to his chest, his heart straining under the weight of everything he didn’t want to feel. Little Eunbi, with her hair still short, worn bermudas, and a t-shirt stained with yellow paint, revelled in the chaos she was causing. She jumped and skipped back and forth between his brain and his heart, completely at ease, her presence so familiar yet entirely out of place. She seemed to enjoy every second of it.

And Jeongguk grew more and more unnerved by that. Little Eunbi was different from the Eunbi that avoided his gaze and awkwardly bowed. The latter had her hair longer, with short bangs softly brushing over her brows, her hands neatly manicured and her clothes spotless. She stood there, straight and put-together, a polished version of the girl who once got dirt all over herself and laughed too loud.

But what probably made him madder was that the more Eunbi started to find her place within the group, the more that seemingly dead part of her began to re-emerge, inching its way back into his life. It was like watching a ghost regain its form, piece by piece. The Eunbi he thought he had locked away was starting to blur with the present Eunbi, and every time she laughed it reminded him of how easy things had once been between them, back when her presence hadn’t been a thorn in his side but a constant comfort. Now, that sound twisted something deep in his chest, something he had long buried under layers of hurt and distance.

What frustrated him even more was that Eunbi seemed completely oblivious to it all. The way she eased into the group, gaining their acceptance, was infuriating. It was as if the distance between them meant nothing to her, as if she could waltz back into his life without consequence. The more they welcomed her, the more that old familiarity surfaced. She was becoming Eunbi again— the Eunbi who had once mattered. And that thought made his stomach churn.

It twisted even further when he found himself unconsciously reading into her every move. His knowledge of her, the way she used to be, crept into his mind without his consent, and he began to analyse her behaviour, picking apart her words and actions. It was almost instinctive, the way he could still understand her, still anticipate her moods. It only ended up poisoning him, because he soon realised those smiles — those little moments of reconnection to the past — were never directed at him. He could recognise her in the eyes of his friends, but never in his own.

Did she even care about what had happened between them? Did she think she could simply move on like none of it had affected him? Did she ever realise how deep those cracks still ran, or was he the only one haunted by the weight of their past?

At first, he forced the frustration to only translate into indifference. Bitter coldness. Not paying her presence too much mind, but still making sure she could feel his resentment dangerously tipping over the edge, and threatening to trip at any minute.

But the combination of his birthday approaching and Eunbi wandering around his space as if nothing ever happened caused the explosion. The rancorous version of himself, the one he thought he managed to successfully bury, now fought its way to the surface and dragged him back to square one: a freshly 16 years old Jeongguk with a freshly broken trust.

The intensity of those emotions hit him like a tidal wave, the kind that leaves you breathless, unable to distinguish between up and down. It wasn’t just anger. It was cold betrayal, and the sight of her, standing there so effortlessly among his friends on his birthday trip, made his skin prickle with irritation. Eunbi had slid into their plans with such ease, as if she belonged, and it was ironic considering she hadn’t even wanted to be in the same car as him.

Jeongguk only needed that last, littlest drop to fall, and with it, every ounce of restraint he had left evaporated. The thin thread of control he’d been clinging to snapped. He had thought he’d moved on, convinced himself that enough time had passed for him to handle her presence with maturity.

But he was wrong. Time hadn’t healed him like he’d hoped. Instead, it had just let the bitterness fester until now. He couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t hold himself back. The more he watched her fit in so naturally, laughing at someone’s joke or sharing a quiet moment by the fire, the more the frustration swelled in his chest. It was infuriating that she could act so unfazed, go up to him with a smile he has always recognised too well as if nothing ever was.

He didn’t even realise how tight the grip on his own emotions had been, until they were flooding out of him all at once. Jeongguk felt the words rising in his throat before he could stop them, the resentment spilling over like poison. And now he can feel the control slipping, the pain rushing to the surface like a dam had burst inside him. It’s almost addicting, even when his mind screams at him to stop, to take a breath. But his heart, the part of him still broken from all that time ago, drives him forward.

He needs her to feel it, needs it to be reflected in her eyes. This is what he’d been holding back for so long. This is the pain she’d left him with, and now he’s finally giving it back to her, forcing her to carry some of the weight. He isn’t the only one hurting anymore.

Each word that leaves his mouth is laced with venom, and he watches, wavering between satisfaction and regret, as they hit their target. Her eyes always widen slightly, the smallest flinch in her expression betraying her shock. For a second, he thinks he sees the cracks forming—tiny fissures in that calm, polished exterior she’d put on.

But the more he watches her crumble, the more he feels the bitter taste of victory sour in his mouth. There’s a part of him that hates what he’s doing. Hates that he has become the kind of person who lashes out like this, who takes pleasure in someone else’s pain. Especially hers. It’s like he’s caught in this vicious cycle of wanting to keep his distance but also wanting her attention. And the only way to get that is by hurting her before he himself can process his own hurt through different lenses.

Jeongguk knows he’s being unfair, but something in him can’t let it go. He‘s still simmering with unresolved anger, but there’s also a gnawing guilt, a nagging voice in his head telling him he’s pushing her too far, too hard. Last night, her eyes glossy with tears, he felt the pang that usually followed unleashing his poisonous words hit harder in his chest. He had picked his script with purpose, knowing exactly where to aim, only to shoot hard and leave her lifeless. She fought through the end to get her breaths out, until she couldn’t. Jeongguk waited for the sense of triumph to wash over him, but it never did.

Instead, her fragile figure retreating only after a weak attempt at returning even the smallest amount of the hurt she felt, Jeongguk still felt heavy. Heavy with remorse and guilt. Heavy with the pressure reflected in his friends’ eyes. And he couldn’t handle that. He stood up shortly after Eunbi left, his brain refusing to internalise Dahye’s affront and the group’s deafening silence.

Hours later, Jeongguk lies wide awake, his eyes staring into the void of the tent. He hasn’t been able to keep them shut for more than a minute, his mind a battlefield. He finds it’s impossible to resonate between the insatiable desire for revenge and the exhaustion rendering him numb to any possibility of feeding that need. There’s a part of him that just wants peace.

Glancing to his side, Jimin and Taehyung sleep soundly in the cramped space, blissfully unaware of the storm raging inside him. Neither of them had wanted to dive too deep into what happened, the spat words, the irrational rage constantly taking over their younger friend and keeping him stuck between fight and flight with no escape. Jimin only offered a soft pat on the shoulder and his warmest smile, “It’ll be okay, Jeonggukkie. Let’s just sleep now, hm?”

Jeongguk wishes it could have been as simple as Jimin made it sound. For his friends, it was. They both fell asleep without trouble, and Jeongguk is grateful for that. At least two out of three of them were getting the rest they deserved. Still, he’s careful not to wake them while he quietly slips out of the tent.

The early morning air is crisp, biting at his skin, but the sensation is grounding. Dawn is just beginning to break, soft light spilling over the horizon and casting everything in a faint glow. The quiet sounds of nature surround him, and though they don’t quite ease the weight in his chest, they provide a temporary lull. It’s the cool air caressing his face and threading through his hair that brings some sort of order.

His thoughts start to settle. They don’t feel like a stadium of shouting voices anymore. The yells quiet down and he’s able to sift through them now, picking each one apart, giving himself the space to breathe. It’s not perfect, but it’s better. He feels like he can move past this— if not for his own sake, then for the sake of the others.

Still, there’s one thought that refuses to be silenced. One question that lingers just beneath the surface, gnawing at the edges of his justified anger. It’s persistent, creeping into his mind with every inhale. Why does hurting her hurt him too?

It seems like the simplest of questions, but Jeongguk refuses to accept what appears to be the answer. It sits there, plain as day, yet he pushes it away. He doesn’t want to keep dissecting it, turning it over and over in his mind, trying to find any other plausible way out, but he can’t help himself. His thoughts spiral, stretching the minutes into what feels like eternity, until he loses track of time altogether. He zones out so deeply that when he finally snaps back, it’s only because the quiet sound of a tent zipper reaches his ears, followed by Hoseok’s hesitant head poking out.

Jeongguk blinks, suddenly aware that he’s been sitting in the same spot, on the same chair, staring at the same patch of dirt for who knows how long. Hours, at least. His body feels stiff, his mind trapped in an endless loop. He wonders if he’s lost his ability to pull himself out of this mental prison, if this is it. He’s stuck. His birthday is less than 24 hours away, and he’s more miserable than he’s been in months.

His chest tightens when he sees Hoseok walking toward him. Panic rises swiftly, because Hoseok had witnessed last night’s disaster. They all had. His hands clench into fists, his orbs trembling as doubt swarms his mind. Did he ruin the entire trip for everyone? Is the tension in the air his fault? Is he the cause of the awkward silence that lingered after he tore Eunbi apart with his words? Do they hate—

“Jeonggukkie? You okay?”

The softness in Hoseok’s tone almost makes Jeongguk flinch. It’s so gentle, filled with concern, and for a moment he questions everything he’s been telling himself. If Hoseok hated him, if any of them did, he wouldn’t be standing here now, looking at him with such care in his eyes.

Jeongguk only nods in response, the tension in his shoulders unwinding just a little as his older friend’s face softens into a sweet smile. There’s no judgement, no condemnation. Just quiet understanding. He waits in the lingering silence as Hoseok moves to freshen up. The moment he returns, settling into one of the chairs nearby, Jeongguk feels a sudden urge to speak clawing at his throat. He knows if he doesn’t start talking, the weight of the trap of his own mind will tighten around him again. So he talks, talks and talks about anything that doesn’t resemble the doom he was slipping into.

He’s a fugitive from his thoughts, and he keeps running even when more of the others join the small circle in the middle of the campsite. None of them seem to look at Jeongguk differently, the jokes flowing naturally as small laughs fill the quiet morning. It’s as if everything is as it should be, and he feels himself ease back into composure. Though, the guilt still lingers, heavy and unshakable. He ignores it.

The sun climbs higher in the sky, casting light above them and providing Jeongguk with warmth that he stores in his chest. He gets more of that from his friends’ smiles and the excitement flowing energetically out of them as Hoseok explains they’ll be cycling today, crossing scenic paths that round the campsite.

He watches as they all gather, geeking about today’s activity and stuffing their faces with as much food as they can get their hands on. The topic soon shifts to his birthday, which Jeongguk is particularly dreading. They’re already planning to get him wasted tonight, and the boy chuckles softly, though his laughter is hesitant, distracted.

His gaze keeps drifting to the one tent that hasn’t opened yet, the only place that remains closed off to the rest of the group. The only two people missing from their little circle haven’t joined yet, and it’s hard for Jeongguk to ignore that. To ignore her.

With more minutes going by and the tent unmoving, remaining still and almost mocking in its silence, he finds it even harder to focus on the laughter and the lightness of the morning. The world outside his head seems to move on without him, blissfully unaware of the turmoil inside him. On one side, he’s relieved that the attention has shifted away from him, that the day can unfold even without him being fully present. But that same realisation makes him feel like he’s teetering on the edge, dangerously close to falling back into the prison of his own thoughts.

Oblivious to it, his inner struggle is written all over his face, clear as day to anyone who cares enough to look. And Jimin notices right away. He doesn’t say anything at first, just reaches out to gently caress Jeongguk’s shoulder, the touch so light that the brown haired boy startles slightly before meeting his friend’s gaze. Jimin’s face is soft, a sweet smile tugging at his lips as he tilts his head, “Something on your mind?”

His tone is gentle, almost knowing. Jeongguk shakes his head, brushing off the concern, but his eyes flicker, and his own body betrays him when he instinctively turns once again to check for any movement from the tent. The subtle action doesn’t go unnoticed by the blonde, who hums and makes the other boy sigh wearily, an excuse ready on his lips, “I just haven’t had much sleep.”

“Why don’t you go call Eunbi and Dahye? They probably won’t get to have breakfast if we’re leaving soon.” Jimin’s suggestion comes with caution but it strikes a chord.

Jeongguk stares at his friend, though it feels more like he’s staring through him. The words hang in the air as he zones out, weighing his options. He doesn’t want them to miss breakfast, sure. And part of him just wants to check on them, to make sure they’re okay. Breathing, alive. Yeah, that’s it.

But a question lingers: is he ready to face Eunbi so directly? The task sounds simple enough—just call them over, remind them they’ll have to leave soon for the day’s plans. But the weight of last night still clings to him. What if he hasn’t recovered from the poison he spat? What if that anger rises up, unprovoked, and spills out again? Worse, what if he can’t say anything at all? Or what if Eunbi sees him and returns all the evil, even stronger and sharper? What if she hits back harder and he’s left bleeding on the ground?

The furious speed at which his thoughts churn makes Jeongguk’s head spin, a relentless loop that threatens to overtake him, before the weight on his lap pulls him back. He glances down to see a plate of food resting there—some leftovers from breakfast. When he looks back at his friend, Jimin’s gaze is comforting, “You could bring them this and check if they’re okay with leaving in 30 minutes, hm?”

Jimin is crouching beside him, eyes soft but knowing, not pushing or pressing for anything, but somehow encouraging him all the same. The reassurance he finds in his gaze is enough for Jeongguk. His rushed thought process slows down, and he has room to realise he was only letting irrational panic speak. There’s no reason why any of those scenarios and possible outcomes could roll out only from calling his friends (well, his friend and… Eunbi) over for breakfast.

Jeongguk nods as he stands, his movements stiff at first, his hands clutching the plate tightly. Even with the knowledge he doesn’t have to necessarily address Eunbi, each step toward the tent feels like he’s carrying the weight of the world. The ground beneath him crunches softly, and his heart unreasonably picks up. The idea of simply facing her makes him sick to his stomach. He doesn’t want to accept it, but it’s guilt that’s causing that.

He’s so consumed by trying to chase away his own thoughts he doesn’t immediately register he’s close enough now that he can see the outline of the closed tent flap. It takes him even more to discern the sounds coming from inside. At first, it’s just a faint noise—muffled, almost unintelligible.

But as he draws closer, it becomes clearer. His steps falter. Another second goes by before he places it, and then it hits him like a punch to the gut. Eunbi is crying.

Jeongguk’s body tenses. No, she’s sobbing. It feels like someone’s wrapped a hand around his heart and squeezed. Her words are barely comprehensible, choked-out syllables and pleading whispers. He can make out enough to know that she’s begging, almost desperately, for Dahye to take her away from here.

Jeongguk freezes, paralyzed by the intensity of each of her desperate gasps. The world around him fades. The raw sound of her pain consumes him, and it cuts through him in ways he didn’t anticipate. He had wanted this, hadn’t he? He had wanted to hurt her, to see her broken, see her exactly like this. He had succeeded. He thought it would somehow bring him peace, make things right. Then why does each sob that escapes her build a shattering pressure in his chest?

It all ended up feeling wrong. As if he’s the one falling apart, the one who can’t catch his breath. Her grief echoes in him, breaking pieces inside he thought were long buried. There’s that gnawing guilt, eating away at the anger he had used to justify everything.

With the cries growing louder in his ears, he finds an answer as to why it hurts to hurt her. And it’s a persistent whisper he can no longer ignore.

Jeongguk struggles. He struggles to process it all, his senses slow. He doesn’t know whether to walk away or step closer. His head is screaming at him to move, to do something, but his body won’t listen.

It takes him another moment to realise that Dahye is moving inside the tent, her voice low and soothing as she tries to comfort Eunbi. Then, the tent flap rustles, and Dahye steps out. The moment her eyes land on him, her expression shifts, hardening with disappointment that sends a new wave of guilt crashing into him.

“You really fucked up this time.” She doesn’t bother to hide what seemed to only paint her features seconds ago. Jeongguk is left momentarily stunned, even more with her shoulder brushing against his as she walks past him. It’s suddenly too fast, and he can’t bring himself to respond, can’t find the words to defend himself or apologise.

His gaze falls down in an attempt to regain control over his actions, but as he searches for something, anything, to ground him he notices that the tent is left slightly open. Through the small gap, he can only see darkness and make out the quiet sniffles coming from Eunbi. His body stills, the sound only worsening the mess of thoughts crashing into each other.

One realisation sends a fresh wave of panic through him. Eunbi can see him. She knows he’s there, standing. Doing nothing, even while she cries. The jolt rushes all through his muscles this time, travelling from his brain, and it’s enough to finally get him to move.

Jeongguk takes a shaky step back, only to turn around fast when he’s met with a possibility he doesn’t want to confront. If he sees her face — red, tear-streaked, her eyes swollen from crying — he doubts he’d be able to handle it. Handle the sight of the pain that he caused. He’s sure he’d lose whatever fragile control he has left. He’s already on the brink of breaking just from hearing her. Seeing her like that would undo him completely.

As he retreats, the weight of everything he’s done settles in. He wonders if they’ve reached a point of no coming back. The hurt is too deep, the damage too irreversible. And for the first time, even the foolish kid inside him, the one that still craves for his Dal, wonders if they’ll ever be able to find their way back to each other. The bridge between them feels burned, reduced to ashes, and he’s terrified that there’s no rebuilding it. It’s falling apart for good.

It’s impossible for Jeongguk to keep the dread eating at his insides from showing on his face. It betrays him, every ounce of regret etched plainly across his features. He reluctantly lifts up his gaze. Especially when he’s met with Jimin’s concerned one, the pity there making his stomach twist even tighter, and Dahye’s flaring eyes cutting through him like daggers.

Eunbi steps out shortly after. She moves quietly, almost too quietly, as if she’s trying to blend and disappear into the air. He can immediately tell that she’s made an effort to mask the misery, the makeup she’s wearing is heavier than usual. Too much in places that don’t need it. A shield against him.

But he refuses to let himself look at her for too long. His eyes flit away before he’s forced to see too much. Before the truths he runs from hit him square in the face, before he’s able to discern the words that should be spoken but remain unsaid.

Once again, he lets his doubts speak louder than reason. He convinces himself that all of his friends are against him, that they’re watching him with eyes full of judgement. They’re at his throat, ready to pounce, ready to pin all the blame on him. He can almost feel their fingers pointing in his direction, like they’ve already made up their minds. He’s the guilty one. He’s the tainted, selfish asshole who ruins everything.

That’s why Jeongguk cycles slowly, deliberately hanging back, lagging behind the rest of the group. He can’t bear to meet their eyes, to force himself into their light-hearted mood. He doesn’t feel like belonging there, right now. It feels like he’s on the outside looking in, like he’s forgotten what it means to just feel at peace.

So, he keeps his distance. It’s easier to stay where it’s quiet. Where he doesn’t have to put up an act or force himself to be present. The silence feels more like a refuge than loneliness, a momentary escape from the relentless noise in his mind.

In front of him, Eunbi cycles just as slowly. They’re both drifting behind the group, caught in their own separate orbits, not really blending with the others. Jeongguk unconsciously fixates on the steady rhythm of her bike wheels, the way they spin effortlessly, guiding her along the path. It’s a repeated, ceaseless action that serves as a temporary anchor to avoid sinking under.

Without meaning to, he finds himself mimicking their speed, gradually inching closer to her, his bike mirroring the pace of her wheels. The space between them narrows, and when he notices it, he pulls back slightly. Only to repeat the same motion moments later, closing the gap again. And again. It’s like he’s automatically attracted to the movement, which unintentionally draws him to her.

It’s Eunbi’s weary sigh cutting through the soft hum of the tires against the ground that snaps him out of that mindless trance, the one that had briefly distracted him from the darker thoughts creeping at the edges of his brain, “Can you stop doing that?”

Her voice, edged with irritation, breaks through the fog in his head. Jeongguk stills, confused, not even realising what she meant. He hums questioningly, his brows furrowing.

“I’m not in the mood for a race,” she mutters, not even looking back at him, her tone flat but tinged with weariness.

Jeongguk blinks, caught off guard, and he feels a flash of defensiveness rise up before he can stop it, “I— I wasn’t—”

“Whatever.” She cuts him off, sounding more tired than angry, “I just feel... anxious knowing you’re— there. Behind me. Please, just go ahead.”

The words strike him harder than they should, hitting him in a place he doesn’t want to acknowledge. They settle deep, mingling with guilt and frustration. Her voice, so casual yet heavy with discomfort, only stirs up the irrational anger that always seems to bubble up whenever they interact, the same one that brought them to this breaking point.

Before he can stop himself, he bites back, “Oh, now you’re the one feeling anxious.”

Eunbi’s shoulders stiffen, and her words shake with fatigue, begging once again, “Please, I don’t wanna start this again.”

“We’re not starting anything,” Jeongguk snaps back, his tone biting despite himself. Even he doesn’t believe it. It always feels like they’re on the verge of starting something, like every word is a match waiting to spark.

This time, she whips her head to look at him over her shoulder, her voice rising as her patience thins, “Oh, really? Then what is th—”

The words die in her throat as her bike catches on something, and in an instant, she’s thrown forward. She’s sent tumbling on the ground, her body skidding against the rocky surface, the harsh sound of scraping skin filling the air as her hands and knees are victim to the fall.

Jeongguk’s heart drops. The fragile tension between them shatters, and his breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t think—he just reacts. “Dal!”

Before he knows it, panic overtakes him and he’s off his bike in a flash, letting it crash behind him as he rushes to her side. His voice shakes when he kneels beside her, the name escaping him again, raw and urgent.

Eunbi is sprawled on the ground, dirt smudged across her skin, her hands trembling as they try to push her own body up. Jeongguk immediately detects the blood seeping from the cuts on her knees, then scans through her face contorted in pain. He searches her whole body for more wounds with wide, desperate eyes and he notices her palms are also bleeding.

His hands hover uselessly, unsure where to touch or how to help without hurting her more. His heart is racing, pounding in his chest as the sight of her like this rips through him. It feels like the ground has been yanked out from beneath his feet.

When he speaks again, his voice is rough with fright, “Are you okay?” It’s the first thing he manages to blurt out, while helping her turn on her back. But it’s a stupid question—he can see she’s not okay. He can see the ache written all over her features, more blood dripping from her cuts.

Eunbi doesn’t respond immediately. Her breath comes out in sharp, shaky gasps. Jeongguk can see the shock of it all settling into her body and he watches as she tries to pull herself together, her face pale. Eunbi mutters, her voice small but strained, attempting to sit up in slow movements, “I’m fine.”

Jeongguk feels himself spiralling. The terror in her eyes is reflected in his, but it seems to hit him ten times stronger than what the bruised girl has to deal with right now. His orbs widen impossibly more as the seconds go by, and when her eyes seem to mist over with tears he can’t help his own palms from framing her face and searching for possible scratches he couldn’t spot with his attentive gaze, then grasps her arms.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to make her feel the hurt he carried, make her understand how deep his pain went. But now, as he looks at her, all he can think is how wrong that is. The sight of her suffering doesn’t give him any satisfaction. Only a pang deep in his chest, something ugly that he doesn’t know how to deal with.

“I’m fine,” Eunbi repeats again, this time with a little more conviction, a small, forced smile barely reaching her lips. But Jeongguk can see right through it. He hopes she can feel the intention seeping from his contact, his hold rough but warm over her goosebumps-covered skin.

The rushed moment gives no space for the resentment they had grown accustomed to these past days, and it wraps them up in a bubble from which the present is locked out. They’re outside Jeongguk’s porch, and Eunbi just fell on her hands and knees trying to learn how to roller skate. Her best friend sits beside her, taking care of her pain.

Even with their friends now hovering above them, throwing concerned questions at her, Jeongguk’s entire focus is on Eunbi. He follows her every slight movement, every shift of her body as she tries to mask the discomfort. His eyes study the way her face scrunches in pain, his heart aching in time with her every wince. And every time she looks at him, silently seeking reassurance, he’s right there, offering it in the softening of his gaze.

As the group’s voices become a chaotic hum around them, Eunbi’s low murmur slips past the noise, meant only for him, “Gguk. Maybe I don’t feel so fine.”

Her sheepish smile doesn’t reach her eyes, and the worry in her eyebrows betrays her light-hearted attempt. Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate. He immediately reacts, delicately leading her upper body down again. Seated on his heels, he lays her head on his lap and keeps her eyes on his face, his voice soothing, “It’s okay, Bee. Look at me. You’re going to be fine.”

Eunbi nods, trying to will herself into trusting him, but Jeongguk sees the uncertainty etched into every line of her face. Her eyes, wide with panic, keep darting down to her legs, where Namjoon holds them up steady, and Dahye works carefully to clean her wounds. There’s terror in her eyes every time she follows the blood trickling down her skin and notices how it keeps flowing out furiously. Jeongguk knows that look all too well. He’s seen it before, is aware of how blood unsettles her, how easily fear grips her in moments like these.

He acts instinctively, gently covering her eyes with one of his hands, the thumb subtly caressing her forehead, “Don’t look, Dal. Close your eyes, hm?”

Jeongguk can feel the hesitancy radiating from the group, their confusion practically tangible as they watch the scene unfold. They’ve seen him and Eunbi at each other’s throats, and now this tenderness feels foreign. But to him, it’s more familiar than any of the anger he’s harboured towards her. It’s like something pulling at the edges of his consciousness, reminding him of how it always has been, and should have been.

He refuses to linger on that thought now. Rational explanations and consequences can wait for later. Right now, all he cares about is making sure Eunbi is okay.

Her fall wasn’t severe, not by any medical standard, but the sight of her pale face and the cold sweat clinging to her skin keeps his nerves taut. He can't relax, not when he can still feel the tremble in her body and see the fright in her eyes. The panic washing over her features only makes him grip her a little tighter.

Namjoon breaks through the haze of Jeongguk’s focus, his voice concerned as he lowers Eunbi’s legs gently to the ground. “I need a shirt or something. Tissues won’t be enough here.”

It seems more as if he’s muttering to himself than anyone else, because he instantly moves to search in his backpack. Jeongguk is quicker, reacting without hesitation, still making sure Eunbi is shielded from the view of her knee scratched and raw with blood, “There’s one in my backpack. You can rip it if you need to.”

Namjoon pauses for a moment, looking at Jeongguk with doubt and something else he can’t quite place. But after a beat, he nods, unzipping the bag and pulling out the t-shirt.

The older boy calls Eunbi’s attention on him, and Jeongguk’s hand reluctantly slips away from her face, settling in her hair instead. Namjoon’s tone is gentle, keeping the girl grounded, “Okay Bi. I’m going to press very hard now. It’ll hurt a bit, but I need to stop the bleeding. You okay?”

Eunbi nods, her expression tight with fear but determined to stay calm. She focuses solely on Namjoon’s face, deliberately avoiding the sight of her knee, where blood continues to drip down, relentless and vivid against her skin. The second Namjoon applies pressure, she lets out a sharp squeal, her brows knitting together as soft whimpers follow, each sound striking Jeongguk with a deep sense of helplessness.

And it’s more than he can bear. Without thinking, he reaches for Namjoon’s wrist, halting his movement, his voice tight and edged with a protectiveness he can’t suppress, “Yo, you’re hurting her. Don’t press so hard.”

The other boy meets his eyes, a small scoff escaping his lips without going unnoticed, his expression steady, “I’m studying to be a doctor. I think I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re studying to be a vet, that’s not a fucking doctor.” The comment slips past him before he can do anything about it, sharper than intended, fueled by frustration and anxiety. The unnecessary weight of his words reflect in the surprised reactions from his friends and the slight arch of Namjoon’s brow.

“Bibi kinda looks like a deer. I’d say it’s quite appropriate,” Dahye’s voice slices through the small, sudden moment of tension, and it’s sweet but tinged with humour, her light-hearted tone meant to ease some of her friend’s nerves. Eunbi chuckles, light and genuine, for the first time that morning. She searches for the taller girl’s gaze and finds her crouching next to Jeongguk, close to her.

Jeongguk notices the shift in her immediately, the way her features relax, the calm that briefly washes over her. He scrutinises every subtle change, searching for the girl he’d spent years knowing. But as he looks down at her, still resting in his lap, her gaze lingering on Dahye before quickly finding his and then returning to Namjoon, he spots something that twists in his gut.

There’s a shift in her eyes. Uncertainty. It all comes rushing back. It’s not just the physical pain that’s pulling her away. The brief connection they had shared slips through his fingers. It’s like a switch has been flipped, and they’re back where they always end up, strangers that know everything about the other, even when they’re this close. The softness in her eyes is not directed at him, and it’s then replaced by doubt. The image causes an obnoxious alarm to go off in his head. He doesn’t know how to restore the moment. Doesn’t want it to end.

Frantic, he keeps combing his fingers through her hair, desperate to hold onto any remains. His movements are absentminded, mechanical almost, as if he’s afraid to let go completely. Then, the need to hear her voice becomes almost overwhelming, and his words come out soft, tentative, “You okay?”

When she only nods, he frowns. It does little to ease his mounting anxiety.

Namjoon resumes his work diligently, and Eunbi eventually sits up, the warmth of her body now gone from Jeongguk’s lap. It only leads him to further seek for a way to bridge the gap, forcing a gentle smile, “Dal, it’s not even bleeding anymore. See?”

“Oh god, is she dying? She’s gonna bleed out.” It’s Hoseok’s dramatic outburst shattering the moment and Jeongguk’s every possible attempt at mending it, as the boy crouches down to inspect the stained shirt wrapped around Eunbi’s leg with a grimace.

Eunbi, who had just started to calm down, now feels her breath quicken. She instinctively looks at Jeongguk, her eyes pleading for reassurance, but before he can offer his comfort, Hoseok’s over-the-top concern strikes again, “Bi, what’s your blood type? Just in case we might need to give you a blood transfusion.”

“What? Is he serious?” Her eyes widen in disbelief as she searches for the bloodstain but finds Jeongguk quickly pulling her shoulder to keep her still, “He’s just—”

"Actually, I once watched a tutorial on YouTube on how to do that. It’s not that hard. We just need to find someone with your same blood type and you’re set." Jimin’s sudden comment adds to the absurdity, and Jeongguk groans, his frustration mingling with the ridiculousness of the situation.

”You two, shut up and help me clean these,” rolling her eyes, Dahye puts an end to the foolish interaction and urges them to take care of the cuts on Eunbi’s palms, still unattended. Hoseok tries, he does, but he feels like facing blood this close will probably result in him fainting. He doesn’t think having another person on the verge of passing out would help. So, he calls for Taehyung to take over while he just resolves by trying to distract Eunbi, “I was just kidding, doesn’t look so bad. Where did you get this top, by the way?”

Jeongguk hesitates. He can’t focus on the banter. His anxiety is slowly eating at his insides, and he knows he should let go of whatever bubble he found himself trapped into. Should burst it with the slightest nudge of his finger, the mocking plop! sound eventually bringing him back to the present and making the sounds clearer, closer. But he can’t. He’s feverish as Eunbi seems to avoid his gaze further, only offering small smiles when he attempts to comfort her like he did while she was laying on his legs, her eyes trained on his and seemingly the only thing able to keep her stable. The chaos makes his head spin, but what’s worse is the feeling that she’s slipping away, again. Even if it was just an illusion to begin with.

Deep in the spiral of his thoughts, it takes him a moment to notice that Eunbi is being helped up by Namjoon, and that she’s holding onto his forearms while taking small, hesitant steps without applying too much pressure on the bruised knee. Namjoon hums in concern, then looks behind his shoulders, “Hey, my bike has a seat behind. I’m taking Eunbi back to the campsite.”

The words snap Jeongguk out of his daze, making him stand up and instantly pulling him back from whatever other mental trap he had fallen right into. Even if it seems to be too late now, Eunbi restoring the wall between them brick by brick, his heart kicks into overdrive, and before he even knows what he’s doing, he blurts out with more urgency than necessary, “I’ll come with you!”

The response is immediate, and not in the way he expects. All eyes land on him, doubtful, surprised. He can feel the shift in the air, a tension settling around him as his friends exchange glances, unsure of where this sudden burst of energy came from. The awkwardness of the moment seeps into his skin, and Jeongguk clears his throat, feeling the heat rise to his face, “I’ll— I’ll help take Eunbi’s bike back.”

Dahye pats him on the shoulder reassuringly, and Jeongguk is momentarily taken aback considering their earlier interaction and how she had looked at him with murderous intents. This time, she sports a soft smile, “Don’t worry, Gguk. I’ll do it.”

Jeongguk opens his mouth to argue, but Namjoon cuts in, his expression equally puzzled by the younger’s outburst, “Yeah, man. You should stay here and enjoy the day. It’s your birthday, after all.”

“But—“

”You did enough already, Gguk. Stay with the others, we’ll take care of her.” After throwing him a convincing nod, Dahye is already pulling Eunbi’s bike up and steadying it, quickly collecting her own that had stopped not too far away.

Jeongguk frantically searches for Eunbi’s gaze, for any sign that he should push further, that she needs him with her. But as they lock eyes, the weight of his earlier actions come crashing down on him, like a bucket of cold water. He let himself get carried away in a distant fantasy that doesn’t belong in his reality, that shouldn’t have unfolded in their present. It only led him to try and force his way into a situation where he wasn’t needed. No, where he wasn’t wanted. The thought stings more than he cares to admit.

He seeks for confirmation either way, hanging on the last remaining thin thread, the name slipping from his tongue again, tentative, “Are you sure, Bee?”

Eunbi hesitates, her arms wrapping around her figure, shielding herself from him. She also seems to be realising the unfamiliarity of the moment, of his sweet tone, his eyes never once hardening when they land on her. And it’s weird, because she should be accepting this version of him with much more ease. But instead, she finds support in their distance right now, and she lowers her gaze, “Yes, Jeongguk. I don’t want to bother you further.”

A small gasp fights its way up his throat, but he stops it. He tries to argue, stuttering, “You— You’re not— Whatever. Huh, call if anything happens?”

His eyes are still trained on Eunbi, but she doesn’t react. Dahye chuckles softly to try and soothe the air, “Hey, she’s okay. It’s just a few scratches. Right, Bibi?”

The oddly silent girl nods, her head up again and now meeting Jeongguk with confidence, firmly holding his gaze, the smallest remains of whatever they got caught into scattered to the ground. He mirrors her nodding, attempting to smooth some of her certainty in himself, failing, “Huh— okay. I’m just— okay. I’ll see you later, then.”

Later comes, and Jeongguk barely sees Eunbi. The night grows louder, he’s surrounded by friends, their energy infectious as they prepare for his birthday, now just a few hours away. They’re bubbling with excitement, eyes bright with anticipation, instilling that nervous buzz that always hits him just before midnight. Jeongguk smiles along with them, but his heart isn’t quite in it.

Despite the laughter and the way the campfire crackles as they pass around bottles of alcohol, Jeongguk feels distant, like he's watching it all through a fog. His friends are trying, he can tell. They’re making every effort to keep him distracted, to drown out the noise in his head with their joy. Jokes fly around the fire, and every few minutes someone checks the time, gasping excitedly as midnight draws nearer. It’s sweet, thoughtful, and he genuinely appreciates it. But no matter how much he tries to focus on them, on the present moment, his mind keeps drifting. His eyes wander, searching for Eunbi.

She’s always just out of sight. There, but not fully. Lingering at the edges, sticking close to Dahye. Laughing quietly, but never wholly engaging with the group like she usually would, despite everything. It’s just enough to not raise suspicion, but it’s clear she’s retreating. Closing herself off from the rest of them, from him.

Jeongguk tells himself he’s reading too much into it. That she’s probably still finding it hard to recover from the earlier incident, her bruises still visible. But he also knows this feeling too well. He felt it after that ride on his motorcycle, Eunbi seeking for something in his eyes, the moment so tender but broken in an instant. He’s acquainted with the slow drift, the wall quietly being rebuilt between them. Taller, sturdier.

The campfire crackles, and his friends’ voices rise around him, but he’s only half there. Jeongguk wishes he could stop his mind from racing, wishes he could just fall into the rhythm of the celebration like everyone else.

And then midnight comes. With it, a burst of chaos. His friends spring to life, hoisting him up into the air, passing him between them like a beloved trophy. Their spark is contagious, and for a moment, Jeongguk lets himself be burnt by it. The joy, the love surrounding him. They sing him happy birthday, off-key and loud, pouring drinks and making ridiculous toasts. He allows himself to be showered by that affection. It’s not perfect, but it’s enough.

As the hours drag on, the celebration settles into a steady hum. They stay by the fire, some leaning into one another, others still joking around, the alcohol loosening their tongues. The earlier buzz mellows into something softer, more intimate, and Jeongguk feels himself unwind, even a little. He laughs more freely now, the weight of the night starting to lift as he becomes wrapped up in their warmth.

Eventually, exhaustion begins to creep in. One by one, his friends start to peel away, calling it a night and retreating to their tents with promises to continue the celebration tomorrow. They ruffle Jeongguk’s hair, poking at him one last time before bidding him goodnight, the warmth of their presence lingering even as they disappear. Jimin and Taehyung make sure he’s okay before heading to their tent, only after throwing final teases laced with affection at him. Jeongguk sports a boyish grin as he watches them go.

Then it’s just him, the fire crackling softly and the bright stars above him. They whisper something to him, but he can’t decipher it. It makes his skin prickle with the chill and his eyelids shut heavier, slower with every flutter. He doesn’t hear his thoughts so strongly, now. Maybe he chooses not to. He’s been dealing with them all day long, seeking for even one of the millions to lighten him with something he actually needs. Does he even know what he needs? The ache in his heart that refuses to settle hints at a negative answer.

Jeongguk knows there’s something he wants, though. He badly wants these first hours of his birthday to be blessed by a certain someone’s wishes. He completely lost sight of her in the earlier chaos. Didn’t get to check if a smile, even a forced one, was painting her lips when midnight struck.

Perhaps it’s the universe pitying him, reserving him with a gift that could or could not change his misery. But he soon realises he’s not alone when a soft clearing of a throat breaks the silence.

He turns and finds Eunbi standing there, hesitant. She visibly struggles with what to do, her legs refusing to bring her closer to him but her brain willing to, sheepishly taking the seat next to him, “Um. Happy birthday, I guess.”

Jeongguk recognises it instantly, the way she says it, her subtle, small, playful smile not lost on him. It mirrors the same tone he’d used when he had blurted it out awkwardly at her own birthday not too long ago, the first time they’d really spoken one-on-one. A small chuckle escapes him, unsure but undeniably warm, “Huh. Thanks.”

And then there’s silence. It stretches between them, heavy but not uncomfortable, like there’s something waiting beneath it, something unspoken. The two are deep in their thoughts, words they want to say hovering on the tip of their tongues, but neither quite ready to let them loose. The crackling of the fire fills the space, the occasional pop of embers the only sound as they sit side by side, both not used to the feeling.

Jeongguk hesitates, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “Do you… feel better?”

Eunbi hums.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

It goes quiet again, air thick and pregnant with everything left unsaid. Jeongguk hesitates, his mind swirling with the urge to say something, anything, but the fear of breaking whatever fragile truce they have keeps him quiet. He wants to ask her if she’s okay — really okay — but the words feel inadequate.

Eventually, it’s Eunbi who takes a deep breath, as if drawing in strength from the fire, from the quiet of the night around them, “I— I feel like… we should talk. Do— do you want to?”

Jeongguk’s chest tightens, his heart pounding, but then he nods.

“Yeah.”

[jymwahuwu]

I was wondering. . What if scenario where darling finally escaped jing yuan by dying and jing yuan had felt all emotions at once anger, furry, sadness, despair, agony. He just cant move on from darling he waited and waited for her next reincarnation and. . Finally after so long of waiting she was finally here standing, breathing and alive

And his not so kind once he kidnapped darling once more and had locked her on his (their) shared bedroom then he just basically fucks darling to the hell and back after so long and he makes her cum and darling felt overstimulated and had kept crying to him to slow down and trying to push him away because who in the right mind would suddenly pull a strange onto some person's house then fucks them into oblivion?!

(Basically idk why im horny or maybe its because i have a period idk anymore-)

From Cloud anon!

thank you cloud anon<3 hesitant to write this…but i love the thirsty ending 🫣 for Jing Yuan, if his clingy and sweet side can't keep you… he doesn't mind getting rough…?

CW: yandere, angst, non-con, kidnapping, overstimulation, (mentioned) death in the past

(The relationship between the reader here and Jing Yuan’s past life is described in a rather vague way. Please DON’T send me requests and comments about angst and take revenge on yandere. I’m tired of receiving those 😭 Please read the rules.)

That's a really rare concept for long living species; life blooms in the spring and withers in the winter. Jing Yuan placed flowers on the coffin, and… still… worked and lived as usual, arranging Luofu's daily affairs at the seat of divine foresight. People whispered- they said, Look. The general is so ruthless. His only lover in centuries had withered like a flower, and he was unmoved.

Jing Yuan knows that he can still live as usual, but there is an empty gap in his heart, which often aches, but he still chooses to keep you in his heart instead of letting time pass by. No loss can cause Jing Yuan to stagnate, he just lives with wounds. He regretted not leaving more holographic records and replayed the few videos you had, over and over again. "mm- Jing Yuan-" Your lips parted slightly, a record of a time when you were so annoyed that you blocked the camera with your hands and giggled while eating ice cream. That was - that was when you liked him, right? The general sometimes wonders - are you tired of him pestering you like that? He apologized, apologized, apologized bitterly - but you wouldn't hear it again. In the end, he still couldn't keep you, you flowed away between his fingers like floating sand. What had hundreds of years left for him?

Reincarnation - Jing Yuan really found you, in another galaxy. In the dim light, you are standing on the street, laughing and chatting with your friends. A familiar frown and a sweet smile, and when talking about interesting topics, the clear and sweet laughter leaked out. Similar facial features, similar movements and expressions are the imprint of the same soul. Jing Yuan suppressed the urge to take you away immediately, knowing that he must first find out your identity in this life. He removes every possible obstacle and takes you away.

Locked up in a room, in the general's mansion. Since you didn't like being able to travel freely among the stars in your previous life.

To you, you who have no information, this is really the cage that abruptly descends. Be sent to the Xianzhou ship by the people of your planet. Your hands are locked with a bunch of locks made of solid space material, but they are wrapped in plush fabric as if to prevent your wrists from getting hurt. The burly man with long white hair, said to be a general named Jing Yuan, caresses your body desperately - desperately. Lots of sticky, dazzling kisses. His tongue dipped into your mouth to search. Tears…tears? This mysterious man doesn't shed tears when you look at him, it's like the tears have dried up. Your thighs and calves were tied together and spread apart, forcing you to expose your most private parts and squirt on his thick fingers for hours. Orgasm is no excuse to stop. After your struggles and twitches, those fingers didn't slow down at all. The cock is buried deep inside you without any suspense after the warm-up is completed. The tight walls contracted and the liquid spread outward.

You are confused - confused, orgasming in pleasure, wanting to push him away (but your hands are tied), asking who he is and why he treats you like this while still maintaining your senses, and all you get is silence. It was the silence of not wanting to repeat the old dreams. From behind, his entire crotch is pressed against your ass, and even your hands are pressed by him, rocking and pounding you back and forth, occasionally kissing your cheek in a daze. Face to face, staring into your eyes, the lower body is closely connected. On top, you were forced to ride him, swinging your waist. From the side, a strong arm lifts one of your legs and slowly inserts it. In front, sucking and servicing that cock for hours. Seed and fluid oozed from the connection. There are two trembling vibrators stuck to your nipples. What a mess.

After making up for some of the love he hadn't had in hundreds of years, the general felt more at ease. Jing Yuan's hands wrapped around your shoulders and waist. You wanted to hate him so much- hate him, but he read you bedtime stories and space. He prepares rich meals for you, toys to relieve your boredom, and kisses your forehead. He promises to take you out, but not now.

Not now.

[arriansarchive]

Bottom!Dom!Carl Gallagher/Male!Top!Sub!Milkovich!Reader

This one's been in my mind for a while but I haven't acted upon my urges

Warnings since I forget to do them a lot: edging, pinching??? painplay????, other smut stuff, getting caught

Like season 10/11??? It doesn't really specify or anything but he's an adult

I've also decided to switch my name tag from y/n to m/n so yeah (i might forget in later stories so idk)

I used the word cock again be proud. im evolving

Summary: Porn

A simple day for junk food and TV programs. Well, that's what it was supposed to be before Carl got any bright ideas as usual.

Mickey had chaperoned you over to the Gallagher house after a job interview to help him with a few things, but you ended up just sitting with your boyfriend for a while. It wasn't the most productive thing you could be doing though nobody cared but Mickey.

By this time you both had gotten a few drinks down, and you were successfully quite tipsy. Not drunk to the point of delirium but not all there either.

You were barely paying attention to the TV until a rather heated, weirdly even, sex scene popped up. Carl laughed a little before leaning back in his seat.

A few minutes went past and in the corner of your eye you saw Carl stiffen, his mouth in a straight line. He seemed uncomfortable.

"You good?" You lolled your head over from the back of the couch to stare deeply at him.

He looked over at you, seemingly contemplating something before he lunged at you with full force. Carl pushed you back onto the couch vigorously with a elated look, straddling you.

"Don't tell me that shitty sex scene actually got to you." You rolled your eyes, but your breath automatically hitched whenever he grinded against you.

You tried to maneuver your way out from under him, but Carl held you down with such force that you didn't know where it even came from.

"I'm not going under today." He declares while shrugging off his jacket.

"Then what do you suggest we do?" You crossed your arms behind your head and yawned.

"You'll see." He muttered once he finally tugged his shirt over his head.

Carl started to unbutton the fancy shirt you had spent pretty much all your money on for your interview, but he decided to leave it on even after it was fully unbuttoned. Fucking in style or something like that.

He pressed his mouth up to yours needily. His hands were roaming your body and pinching you at random spots, making you flinch and groan into your boyfriend's mouth

You gasped lightly into Carl's mouth as his hands traveled down your dress pants, palming you roughly through your boxers. He had an evil smirk on his face.

"If you're this hard from me just doing that then you'd better prepare yourself." He whispered in your ear seductively.

You whimpered at the cold air whenever his hand left you, and your pants and boxers were pulled down.

Carl drug his hand up and down excruciatingly slowly for about a minute before teasing the tip with his thumb. The pad was circling the slit which was leaking steadily.

You were barely able to contain your noises of displeasure whenever he pulled away completely to take his own pants off but couldn't help to wonder what he was going to do next.

Suddenly he bent down from the couch and pulled out a few lube packets from one pocket of his pants.

"Were you planning this?" You managed to get out with a shakey voice.

He grinned. "Of course I was."

Carl was notorious for pain play with you. He loved doing it probably more than he loved normal sex without it, so no stretching wasn't a problem with him as he was usually the bottom.

He spread the lube over you, massaging around the base and tip mostly since he knew you were the most sensitive there.

You both groaned loudly in unison whenever he started to lower himself onto you. You were basically in agony from how slow he was going, and you could tell he was too.

You squeezed your eyes shut at the ecstasy that enveloped you at even the slight movement of his hips up and down on you. He had a maniacal look in his eyes.

He raised his legs up to where your tip was about to slip out and then slammed back down into you. Carl started a steady pace of this, not too fast but not too slow.

Both of your whimpers and groans were filling the silent, empty living room. Now that most of the Gallaghers were adults they weren't in the house a lot

Carl felt his wits end coming closer with each passing thrust, but yours was going even quicker. He had always noticed you were louder whenever you were about to finish.

Your hips spasmed as you came into Carl. He continued to bounce, chasing his orgasm while overstimulation engulfing your senses

Thick white ropes shot out of Carl rapidly with a loud scream of pleasure. You felt yourself start to harden once more and almost groaned in exhaustion.

He collapsed onto your chest, not bothering to take your cock out of him for the time being. It was silent until you both heard footsteps approach from the back door.

"Carl, what the hell are you doing?" A female voice yelped from the back of the couch.

"Tuning you out. What the hell does it look like?" He opened one eye passively and shrugged.

"Well, it looks like your fucking Mickey Milkovich's brother."

"That part is true too."

Your face flushed in embarrassment as Debbie and Carl argued back and forth about Franny's wellbeing and other concerns about fucking on the Gallagher house's couch. The words vomit and piss were used too much for your liking.

Ian's cackle became apparent from the kitchen along with Mickey's heavy footfalls.

"You fuckin' my brother, Gallagher?" He called.

You both decided to take your second round down to the basement. It's safe to say you got teased about it for a while after that.

[batwritings]

Sorry if im requesting too much, im just obsessed with your works jehdhdvudvsudvsj

How about dragon!Price with a crow!reader? I’ve seen a lot of people making him a dragon, and crows tend to have the same shiny-hoarding thing going on, so it’s kind of a match made in heaven. Maybe things really kick off when Price’s shedding his scales while our crow reader is getting a lot of nesting urges, causing the reader to take a couple of the shiny scales for her nest. Eventually, when her heat arrives, she realizes her mistake. Her nest smells so much like Price, it’s unbearable.

Sure, they had always been pretty close, due to him being her captain and their tendencies to gift each other shiny items, but this was a bit different. At some point, Price goes ahead and checks on his lovely crow friend. While he’s expecting to just stop by to see how she’s incorporated his scales into the inner workings of her nest, he ends up staying for longer than anticipated..

-Hybrid

Okay but this is such a cute concept. Putting the horny brain aside, I can just see you and Price exchanging or comparing shiny stuff that you found on missions or on shore leave at least once a week. Ugh, too cute! Enjoy!~

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Price had always had this sort of deal as it were. Your respective species both had an affinity for shiny objects, your captain being a dragon and hording the stuff and you as a crow, just doing it because...well, you could! It was always intriguing to see the different things the both of you would bring to the table after a long away mission.

You weren't entirely sure when you started doing it, but it took a little longer than you would like to realize the consequences to your actions. See, your dear captain had to shed his scales every once in again, their beautiful bronze catching in the light that really sparked a fondness to your one-track crow brain. And with your nest coming together a little disappointingly, you figured they'd be an excellent addition. Not like Price would miss them, he still had plenty to go around.

Yet as your heat grew closer and closer, you couldn't help but get your mind off the familiar and comforting smell of cigars and gunpowder. It was only when you woke up one more, your body deep within your mating cycle that you realized it. You needed your Captain, and you needed him now.

Thankfully for you, from being around you so frequently, Price seemed to be very well aware of when something wasn't quite right with you. Any time you had seemed remotely off, it was as if your captain had a bit of a sixth sense. So you shouldn't have been surprised to hear the couple solid knocks on your barrack door before it opened with a quiet squeak.

"Y/N? You alright?" the man called, voice low in case he was disturbing you. Your whine in response did nothing to assuage his fears, causing the dragon to burst in a little further. "Hey now what's--"

The man stopped in his tracks when he caught onto your scent. "You've started your heat," he mumbled, more to himself than to you, who was painfully aware. "Oh love, why didn't you say something?" He's quick to approach your nest, bright eyes flicking between you and the mess of blankets, pillows, and other shiny things including his scales.

"John...!~" You whimper, wings fluttering in irritation as you push yourself up onto your knees. Price takes the hint, stepping gingerly into your nest, making himself a spot behind you. He covers you, bringing your hips back so they align with his. His wings create a sort of barrier, as if he was trying to shield you from the world.

"I've got you sweetheart, I've got you," the dragon coos, helping your deft hands to slip down your sleep shorts and underwear. The heady scent that follows from your sex being on display earns a low growl as his member twitches eagerly beneath grey sweats. He's quick to pull his cock free, rubbing it along your cunt to soak it in your slick.

"Sing for me love," Price huffs, slowly sliding inside you. You moan so beautifully for him, reveling in the lovely way he fills and stretches you, the way his claws prick at your skin as they hold you in place so as not to hurt you with rushing the penetration. All the while, your captain is littering you in praise, breathing heavier now as he bottoms out inside you.

It doesn't take more than a few desperate chirps and coos from you to urge him to fuck you in earnest. To say the Brit had been wanting this for some time now would be a great understatement. So to be able to finally have you, take you, claim you, made this so much more tempting.

His hips stutter to a halt when you finally reach your climax, claws trailing over the spot where your gorgeous ebony wings meet your shoulders. You shudder and moan under Price's ministrations, trilling when you feel his claws against your skin and feathers. "Feeling better love?" The dragon rumbles, kissing sweetly at the back of your neck.

You nod breathlessly, hand reaching back to rub where you could of his skin in thanks. "How'd you know to find me here?" You ask, still a little amazed at this ability your captain had. The man only chuckles lowly.

"Well I was wondering where my scales had been disappearing to."

[cheolism]

couch comfort

✧ cheol x reader

✧ summary: maybe the bad stuff isn't so bad when you have your boyfriend, seungcheol, there to help you with the weight.

✧ wc is approx 6.3k

✧ genre: romance, fluff, humor; being in love. work sucks. little angst? reader talks of seungcheol being their first real crush/infatuation/love? seungcheol pouts a lot.

✧ note: if there is angst in here, it's very little! this fix purely exists for comfort. you make out at one point. there's another cat based off of my childhood cat. there's absolutely no plot, just kisses and cuddles and comfort. a lot of reflection abt your relationship w cheol at the beginning but it's not all like that lol. photo mentioned at the end is one of the photos at the top!!! this is not edited.

The past week, while definitely not the worst week of your life, was definitely up there. 

You sighed, leaning forward and letting your forehead rest against the wheel. Taking a deep breath, you held it for a handful of seconds before releasing it; just as your therapist suggested. Then you thought of Seungcheol and his fluffy hair.

Feeling somewhat less stressed, you grabbed your backpack from the passenger seat and made your way inside, trying your best to ignore the bitter winter air that nipped at your thighs and legs. Ignoring the cold did nothing to actually prevent it, however, and you still fumbled with your apartment keys for a good minute before you were able to select the correct key and enter. 

You dropped your bag off at the door and kicked off your shoes, and in a voice that sounded remarkably like your mother when she babytalked your niece, you called out for your cat. 

You dropped your bag off at the door and kicked off your shoes, and in a voice that sounded remarkably like your mother when she babytalked your niece, you called out for your cat. 

Stumbling away from the door and to the living room, you withdrew your phone from your pocket and slid open the new notification from Seungcheol. 

Seungcheol: it sounds like you had a rough day.  im sorry. i wish i u didn’t. if u still feel up for it, i can be at ur apartment in twenty. but if u want to stay in or b alone tonight, i understand baby 

There was a meow from below, and that was all the warning you had before your ancient tortoise shell cat was leaping onto your chest, her weight startling you for a moment. You peered at Wolfie, her lime colored eyes peering back at you. Then she meowed again, and you couldn’t help but laugh at it, as she sounded as if she had been a serious chain smoker for fifty years. 

Wolfie ignored you, crawling forward and rubbing her head underneath your chin. She began purring, a deep thing that you could only truly appreciate if you were completely silent. You held your phone up in the air to type, leaving just enough space for Wolfie to curl up on your chest. 

You: ya!!!! I actually just got home 🧡💛 Wolfie immediately curled up on me, so I’ll have to ask her about getting up to get ready. 

You then snapped a picture of Wolfie on your chest and sent it to him. Letting your phone fall to the ground beside the couch, you began running your hands over Wolfie. Once upon a time, her fur had been soft and silky; it practically shined. But age had caught up to your precious companion, and you constantly fought back the urge to cry over how tough and wiry her fur felt underneath your fingertips. 

Sighing, you closed your eyes and let your head sink completely into the pillows. You had been joking to Seungcheol about getting Wolfie’s permission to get up, but even without her added twelve pounds on your chest, you would’ve had a hard time getting up. It was as if you were Atlas, the Titan who carried the world on his back, and the weight of it was keeping you down. 

Not to be misunderstood: you didn’t hate dates with Seungcheol, and most definitely didn’t despise time spent with him. As a matter of fact, you looked forward to every Friday, knowing that not only it marked the beginning of the weekend but was also your assigned date night with Seungcheol. 

If you were honest with yourself, you looked forward to waking up every morning. It was stupid and cheesy, and if your teenage self could see you they would shake their head and roll their eyes. But whenever you opened your eyes, Wolfie’s weight resting on your chest, you immediately thought of him. He was the first person you texted in the morning, whether it be about a particular dream you had, something you saw in the news, or even the weather. You couldn’t help but want to talk to Seungcheol first thing in the morning, just as you couldn’t help but message him until you went to bed. 

If you were frank with yourself, which was asking a lot, you wanted to talk to him all the time. It was so -- 

When you were a teenager, you had looked at your friends who were proclaiming their love for their partners only within a few months of dating with considerable scorn. After all, what did sixteen and eighteen year olds know about love? You had offered a listening ear to their troubles, empathizing with their adoration for their partner, while also mentally rolling your eyes and keeping yourself occupied with your books and music. 

So you didn’t know what to do about Seungcheol. You didn’t know what to do about wanting to send him pictures of all the pretty flowers you saw; videos of Wolfie being cute and cuddly; pictures of sunsets and sunrises, of cute stuffed animals and all other pretty things that reminded you of Choi Seungcheol. 

You inhaled, held it; released. 

If you were frank with yourself, if you stood back and analyzed everything, all the emotions you felt for Seungcheol and all the things you wanted to do for him and all the things you dreamt of doing with him, it sounded like you maybe felt something more than the fluttering adoration and infatuation you had at the start of your relationship when he asked you out. 

But you didn’t want to analyze that too much. 

You groaned slightly, stretching out your legs. Wolfie let out a noise of protest before purring, her attempt at getting you to remain laying down. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” you whispered, your hand going to rest on her head. You used your thumb to pet the space between her eyes. “I want to stay cuddled up with you forever, too. But I also want to see Cheolie.”

She adjusted herself on your chest, purring on. You did want to stay there in the dark with Wolfie, just as you had done during your early college days. Many evenings were spent like that, the two of you in your own space. More often than not, you felt like the world was on your shoulders -- just like Atlas -- and it was Wolfie’s own needs and wants that dragged you out of bed. 

The past week had you debating on canceling with Seungcheol. Nothing major had happened, of course, but instead a bunch of small incidents and interactions that left bad tastes in your mouth had piled up. Just as a bunch of small pebbles pile up to build a mountain, these small things had piled to the point where you just wanted to turn away from the world. 

But you couldn’t. You didn’t want to, more importantly. You didn’t want this past week, no matter how bad it might have been, to impede on your time with Seungcheol. You didn’t want to give up your time with him, not when it was -- not when he was -- so precious to you.

You settled an arm around Wolfie and slowly began to rise; she let out a few squeaks of protest. When Wolfie realized you weren’t going to stop, she huffed and wiggled out of your grasp. Tail high in the air, she walked over your legs to get to the arm rest opposite of you. She climbed on top of it and sat rather primly, looking at you with wide eyes. 

“Are you my pretty little lady,” you asked, voice sweet. You shifted to reach out and pet her. “My pretty baby.”

Wolfie allowed you to pet her for a handful of seconds before she sharply twisted her head towards the front door. She sat, waiting, until there was a series of sharp knocks. Wolfie began growling deep in her throat, hackles raising. 

“Y/n!” A deep voice called out, knocking stopping. 

You cursed, springing up from the couch. You grabbed the hem of your sweatshirt and pulled it away from you, swatting at the cat hairs that had decided to take up room and board on your shirt. “Coming!”

Wolfie ran beside you as you made your way to the door, her tail raised straight in the air. She jumped on the little tree you had next to the door, letting out a croaky yowl when you weren’t fast enough to open it. 

“Sorry, Wolfie, sorry --” You fumbled with the lock for a moment before successfully unclicking it. You wrenched open the door, a large, nearly comically so, smile already on your face. “Seungcheol!” 

He was grinning back at you, eyes twinkling. Seungcheol was dressed in all black, from his heavy winter coat that was a size too big to his pants and boots. The beanie he wore was the only spot of color on him, it being a vibrant orange. 

As always, despite his humble outfit, he was handsome and beautiful. 

Something shifted inside of you. It was as if you had done the breathing exercise your therapist had suggested, but instead of lifting only a few pebbles off your shoulders it relieved you of half a mountain’s worth of weight. 

You stepped back, letting him come into your apartment enough to shut the door behind him. Wolfie hopped off of her cat tree and went to him, winding herself around her legs. You went to follow suit, arms reaching out to him, but he stopped you. 

Subconsciously your lips began to pout at his refusal. Seungcheol laughed, his hands going to his zipper. “Let me take off my coat before you hug me. It’s cold outside.”

“I don’t care about it being cold,” you mumbled, but did as he said. 

As soon as he had his coat unzipped, Seungcheol reached out for you. He opened his coat just enough so you wouldn’t be touching the cold outer layer, his hands guiding you to rest against him. 

He was warm; that was your first thought. 

His arms surrounded you, pulling you close enough to where your nose was smashed against his chest. Not that you minded. Your arms slipped around him in turn, sliding underneath his coat and taking hold of the back of his hoodie. One of his hands went to the back of your head, fingertips sinking in your hair, and he guided you to rest your cheek against him. 

Your eyes slipped shut of their own will. Humming, you nuzzled into him, breathing him in. Before Seungcheol, you never really gave much thought into what men smelled like; all you knew was they either smelled good or bad. But Seungcheol?

He smelled like -- well, like Choi Seungcheol. You knew he used expensive cologne, that he used fabric softeners and used the same body wash and lotion so the fragrance would be amplified. Your first impression of him had been that he smelled expensive, and even now, three months into your relationship, you couldn’t help but associate him with luxury. 

But now? 

He smelled like home. 

That was your second thought. 

“I’m sorry you had a bad day.” His face was pressed into your hair, just as yours was his chest, and you wondered if he was breathing you in, as you were him. The hand that was in your hair began to fumble with the strands before settling, his palm heavy on your head. He began petting you, as if you were a cat or a dog, but instead of feeling indignant you felt extremely at ease. 

“It’s fine.” 

He hummed, the sound coming deep from within him. You felt his chest vibrate against your face. “It’s not fine. I don’t like it when you’re suffering.”

You grinned, squeezing him. “I’m not suffering, Seungcheol. Just. Had a bad week. Besides,” you pulled away slightly, just enough to peer up at him with your little grin. “Somehow it doesn’t feel all that bad anymore.”

Seungcheol laughed, hands moving to your face. He pinched at your cheeks, not hard enough to hurt, before cupping them in his hands. His dark eyes were soft and sparkling as they looked at you, and you knew that no one suited brown eyes as well as he. They were warm and inviting, gentle and soft; perfect reflections of his soul. 

He didn’t speak. He licked his lips and your eyes obediently went to his mouth. Seungcheol chuckled again, his hands tilting your face up. Expectant, your eyes slipped shut. 

You waited for a second. Then another. Then a few more, and your eyes were opening in confusion. He was still watching you, smiling wide enough that his gums showed. 

“Seungcheol!” You whined, brow furrowing.

He giggled, a boyish thing that seemed so at odds with his masculine build and voice. But it was him. 

Seungcheol swooped down, his lips finally connecting with yours. You sighed at the contact, melting against him. The two of you exchanged chaste kisses back and forth, neither in a rush. It was as if your entire week had been hurtling towards this, towards you in his arms, his lips on yours, something settling in your heart that seemed a little too much to just be infatuation. 

He pressed one final kiss to your mouth before straying, his lips ghosting over your cheek. They traveled about your face, his breath warm as it hit your skin. He pressed quick kisses to the apple of your cheek, the space between your brows, your temple; you hummed, satisfaction and safety seeping into your bones and soul, and he pressed a kiss to each of your eyes. 

Seungcheol’s mouth returned to yours, and when he pressed another kiss to your mouth, firm like how someone would kiss a lover long gone, you couldn’t help but beam. 

His own lips twisted into a smile in response. Your teeth clacked against his, both of you grinning into each other’s mouths. 

“Sorry for teasing you, baby.” He pulled away from you, hands squeezing your cheeks before he released you. You wanted to stick yourself back into his arms, but held back. “You’re just so damn cute.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes in faux annoyance. You couldn’t fight the smile that was still on your face, though. “Whatever.”

“What --” Seungcheol stopped pulling off his coat for a moment to stare at you, eyes narrowing, as if you had done something sacrilegious. “Did you just say whatever to me saying you’re cute?”

He still had that appalled look on his face. You shifted back onto your heels, watching as he slowly continued pulling off his coat. You wondered if he was teasing you. “I mean. Thanks?”

“You are cute,” he declared, voice stern with authority. You couldn’t help the look of disbelief that appeared on your face. Seungcheol sighed, as if your skepticism was disappointing. He got one arm out of his coat. “You are. I don’t know who I have to punch to convince you --”

“Violence isn’t the answer to everything,” You chided. You finally left the entryway, moving to your kitchen. “I’ll get some hot chocolate ready for you, Seungcheol!”

He gave an affirmative noise in return. You pulled out your milk and went about heating it up. As it heated, you pulled out two mugs from the dishwasher, which was so full of dishes that had been shoved in that you had to wiggle the mugs back and forth to get them out. 

You felt his presence behind you, and you felt embarrassment slowly creep its way up your neck and settle on your face. Standing, you refused to look him directly in the face. “I uh. Didn’t have the energy to really do dishes that much this week.”

Arms were wrapping around your waist, Seungcheol plastering himself to your back. You put the cocoa powder in the glasses. He slouched against you, his head tilted against yours, watching. He was warm, always warm. One of his arms moved to sling around your waist, the other across your chest. 

You removed the milk from the microwave, pouring it evenly in the two mugs. Seungcheol shuffled with you as you shifted, grabbing the mini-marshmallows from the cupboard. Without much thought you distributed them before leaving the package on the counter. 

“They’re not even.”

“Hm?”

Seungcheol sighed against your ear, as if whatever he had seen was greatly burdening him. “The marshmallows. There’s not an even amount in both mugs.”

“Oh.” You looked down, eyeing both the mugs. “You can have the one with more of them, then.”

Clicking his tongue, Seungcheol reached around you for the package. “You deserve to have the same amount of marshmallows as I do, baby.”

Feeling slightly as if this wasn’t just about marshmallows, you watched as Seungcheol’s fingers carefully counted out five more marshmallows and put them into the left mug. Before he could settle his hand back on your waist, you grabbed it. 

You slid your hand on top of his, observing. His fingers were larger than yours, both in length and width. Seungcheol was pale, remarkably so, and his fingers were no different. Your fingers slid against his hand, feeling the little hairs on his knuckles and the ring on his forefinger. Your other hand joined your first in your navigation of his hand, smoothing over his fingernails -- which he kept trimmed and maintained, more than you -- feeling the sharpness of them in contrast to the soft pads of his fingers. 

Seungcheol wiggled his fingers, and you felt a little giggle escape you as you wrapped your hands around three of his fingers, squeezing. He pressed himself further into you, and you felt every inch of him against you. 

“Seungcheol --”

He pulled away, pressing a kiss to your ear. You peered over your shoulder at him, tilting your head. Seungcheol looked at you for a moment before smiling that gummy grin of his, his hands going to hold your head and bring it so he could press a kiss to your temple. 

“Why are you so fucking cute,” he said, each word separated by a kiss to your forehead. 

Seungcheol released you, picking up both mugs. You followed him into the living room, where he immediately went to the couch. Wolfie hopped onto the coffee table in front of it, sniffing both mugs. Seungcheol went to shoo her away but you stopped him, folding yourself into the couch next to him. 

“She doesn’t drink it,” you said. You reached to the ground and pulled a blanket off of it, settling the blanket over your legs. “The only people food she likes is salami. The real kind, you know? Or she likes licking bowls after I eat Captain Crunch.”

Seungcheol laughed, and like always whenever you heard the sound, you giggled along with him. He shifted further into the couch, moving his feet to prop them up on the coffee table. He pulled the blanket off of you, shooting a look at you when you protested. Seungcheol grabbed your calves, guiding your legs to drape over his thighs. He then adjusted the blanket over the both of you, tucking both of you in. 

“She’s a good girl,” Seungcheol agreed, reaching out. Wolfie took the hint and jumped onto your legs, climbing fervently up to his hand so he could pet her. He chuckled, obliging. “She’s awfully needy.”

He shot you a look, coy. “Just like someone else I know.”

You puffed out your cheeks, shooting him a glare. “You’re just as needy as I am, Mr. Choi Seungcheol!”

He gasped, openly insulted. “What did I say about calling me by my full name?”

You wiggled, reaching out and tugging one of his curls. “Well, when you start accusing someone it makes them do horrible things, Mr. Seungcheol. Like using full names.”

“Oh, does it?” He grinned. With one hand still petting Wolfie, he used the other hand to reach out and ruffle your hair. You let out an indignant squawk, waving your hand around to try and get him to stop. “Does it, then? Call me Choi Seungcheol again and see what happens!”

“Okay,” you laughed. “Choi Seungcheol, Choi Seungcheol, Choi Seungcheol.”

His mouth dropped, affronted. Seungcheol then huffed, moving his arm off of you and turning his face. “Fine. You’re lucky Wolfie is on your legs, otherwise I’d push you off.”

You laughed at his sulking, thoroughly endeared. You shifted forward, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. You tried to bring him down to you in order to kiss him, but Seungcheol resisted, straining against you. “Hey! I’m trying to make it better, Seungcheol!” 

“Nope!” He said, shaking his head. His curls bounced with every movement, and you couldn’t help but smile in adoration. “No making it better, F/n L/n. You’ve done it.”

“Oooh,” you cooed, “I’ve done it, have I?”

He nodded, pushing his lips out in an exaggerated pout. “Yep. You’ve done it.”

“What have I done?”

“Agitated me.”

You laughed, a loud thing that startled Wolfie from your lap. She jumped off of the couch, her feet hitting the hardwood with a little thump! 

“I’ve agitated you!” You echoed in between laughs. You fell back against the couch, head hitting the armrest at an awkward angle, no longer able to support yourself. When you peeked back at Seungcheol, he was raising his thick eyebrows at you, which set you off giggling again. 

He moved your legs off of his thighs, moving around them and guiding them to rest on the couch. You watched, your smile so big it was starting to hurt your cheeks, as he descended upon you. He placed his knees on either side of your thighs, setting his weight against them. Seungcheol bent over you, his eyes sparkling with something dangerous, one eyebrow lifted. 

“Now you’ve really done it,” he murmured, voice deep. It sent something coursing through you, something that ate away at the mirth and sent heat shooting through your heart and settling deep. Seungcheol leaned over you, one hand bracing against the armrest and the other guiding your head in a more comfortable position. 

“I’ve really done it,” you echoed, dumbly. 

“I’m sure you can make it up to me,” he said, absentmindedly. His fingers traced over your ear, nail scraping lightly; your eyes fluttered as they continued to glide over your skin, moving to your jaw. You felt two of his fingers prod at your lower lip before continuing, pulling at it slightly before moving to ghost over your chin. 

You hummed, tongue reaching out to wet your lips. “I can.”

He lowered himself against you. He braced both hands on either side of your head, and your eyes slid shut as his face neared. 

Then your phone began to buzz. 

Your eyes flew open, staring into his. He was so close. He let out a huff of breath. The two of you waited for a second, and you knew he was trying to will the noise away just as much as you, but to no avail. 

You tapped his thighs, and Seungcheol let out a deep sigh. He began raising himself off of you, and you couldn’t help but give his thighs a squeeze. 

Seungcheol went to the other end of the couch as you hung your front half off of it, searching the ground for where your phone had fallen earlier. Once you got it, you wiggled frantically back onto the couch. You moved to press against Seungcheol, your thighs molding into one another, elbows knocking. 

Your mood, which had been repaired by Seungcheol, began to dampen as soon as you saw the contact name of the person who had messaged you. Your weariness must have appeared on your face, as Seungcheol was immediately responding. He swung his arm around your shoulders and brought you closer, leaning his head against yours. 

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Humming, you softly shook your head so as to not hurt his. “Just texts from my manager.”

You didn’t move to open the messages. It was like you were Atlas again. The weight returned, no matter how many pebbles and rocks Seungcheol had brushed off of your shoulders.

Seungcheol let out a little sigh. He wiggled about, turning onto his side to face you. He leaned forward and tucked his face into your neck, warm breath hitting your skin. Seungcheol laid his other arm over your stomach, hand gently squeezing at your lovehandle. 

“You don’t have to answer it,” he murmured. You could feel his lips move against your skin. “You’re not in a manager position, and you’ve clocked out. It can wait.”

When you shook your head in answer, he sighed again. Seungcheol pressed a kiss to your neck, and a part of you couldn’t help but feel foolish at how your heart jumped and the corners of your lips twitched up into a little smile. 

Unlocking your phone, you hurriedly tapped on your manager’s messages. Immediately you were met with five separate chat bubbles, all as unwelcome as the one before it. manager: so what was this I heard about you leaving early yesterday? 

manager: I know you see other people leaving early, but that’s not something I encourage. It’s not something you should encourage, either. 

manager: We rely on you to set an example to the others. 

manager: You’re scheduled for a certain time, and you should be fulfilling that time. 

manager: If this happens again I’ll have to look into shortening your hours.

Your mouth fell open with an audible noise, a small breath of air leaving you as you read over your manager’s messages. Seungcheol made an inquiring sound and you tilted your phone towards him so he could read the texts. 

“What the fuck,” he muttered. “What the fuck. Who the fuck cares? Who the fuck -- so what you left early?”

“It was by ten minutes,” you softly said, sending out a quick affirmative to your manager to let them know you at least read the messages. “I was just. Tired, you know?”

Seungcheol straightened next to you, angling his head to read the texts again. His thick brows were narrowed, plump lips twisted into an irritable frown. “What the fuck. Ten minutes? This is over ten fucking minutes?”

“It’s just --” You broke off, fumbling with your phone for a moment. “It’s not like I do it all the time.”

“No, it’s not!” Seungcheol’s eyes were practically blazing as he looked at you, his grip on you tightening. He was fully irritated, gaze sharp and mouth firm. The urge to smile struck you for a split moment, your heart whispering with glee that he was angry over you; he was angry because of someone mistreating you. 

“It’s fucking ridiculous,” Seungcheol announced. His fingers dug into your shirt. “You’re a model employee. You never call in, never leave early or without doing your shit. Who the fuck are they to -- to text you like that?”

“My manager, Cheolie,” you reminded him. 

He scoffed, his hand leaving your body to push his curls away from his face. “Your manager -- fuck them, fuck! You’re a good person, a good employee. You’re an amazing person and if you want to leave ten minutes early, then you should! Fuck them!”

You were grinning now, your heart practically singing. It was nothing, you supposed. It wasn’t anything to get excited about, but there was something magnificent in seeing someone get angry over how others were treating you. It was wonderful to see another person so invested in your well-being and happiness, and it made your heart feel light. 

It was like he had taken the boulder on your back -- the world on Atlas’s -- and smashed it between his two hands, his anger blazing bright enough to blaze through rock.

Seungcheol’s eyes met yours, and immediately his look softened. He sighed, though his lips were beginning to curve in his sweet smile. He tucked his face back into your neck, pressing another kiss underneath your ear. “Don’t look at me like that when I’m being righteously angry on your behalf.”

You laughed, throwing your head back. “‘Righteously angry?’”

He giggled, burying his face into your skin. He kissed you again there, before Seungcheol was removing his head. Seungcheol peered up at you, and you couldn’t help but admire him. His dark curls, how they brushed against his sweet, wide eyes; his eyelashes, those ridiculously long and dark lashes that made him look ridiculously endearing. 

Fuck, how you wanted him. 

“You know,” he began, lips in a coy smile. “You haven’t really given me a kiss hello.”

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, raising your brows. “The audacity -- I have! Do you not remember us at the door?”

He hummed, shaking his head. His curls bounced. “Nope! I distinctly recall that whole ordeal being led by me.”

“Oh, was it?”

“Yep.”

You laughed, turning to face him. You switched your phone to your left hand, and with your right you reached up and cupped his cheek. His skin was soft and smooth, and you couldn’t help but stroke his cheekbone. You then pressed your hand to his jaw. “Well, I better correct that then.”

You pressed your lips against his, three quick kisses in succession. 

“Hm,” Seungcheol said. “I don’t know if that’s really enough to make up for it.”

“It’s not?” Then you pressed three more kisses. “How is that, sweetheart?”

Seungcheol shrugged. One of his hands settled on your waist, the other going to tuck your hair behind your ear. He traced his thumb over the shell of your ear before settling his hand right below it, on the hinge of your jaw. “Better, but not really satisfying, you know?”

“Not satisfying?” You asked, voice pitching high with amusement. His brown eyes were soft and twinkling, almost as if his soul was beckoning you closer, closer, to come closer and fall into his. You rose to your knees, letting your phone drop between the two of you. “I’ll just have to remedy that real quick.”

“I can tell you if it’s gonna be a quick one it won’t be real satisfying,” he chimed. 

You rolled your eyes, lowering your face. His eyes were already on your lips, his tongue peeking out. “You don’t have to worry about it being satisfying.”

Then you were upon him. Your hands on his face, angling his head up and towards you. You pressed a kiss to his upper lip, chaste and sweet, before tilting your head. Like a wave intent on devouring, you moved your mouth onto his. 

For a moment, Seungcheol let you work your mouth against his. Your kisses were wet and warm, and he was an obedient servant to the mastery your mouth had over him. Your hands sunk into his hair, nails scraping, fingers tugging. He was pliant beneath you, and you kissed him with the unhurried ease that all devote lovers practiced. 

Then, rather impishly, you took his bottom lip between your teeth. He let out a breathy moan at it, and for a moment you couldn’t help but grin. 

Pulling back, you tried to fight the surge of pride you felt as he surged after you. You subconsciously set a hand against his thick neck in an attempt to stop him from following, but Seungcheol paid no mind. Indeed, you couldn’t help the shiver of excitement that ran through you as he continued to push, his eyes dark with intent, nevermind the feeling of your hand pushing against him. 

“Why did you stop, baby,” Seungcheol murmured. His voice was dark and deep, matching his eyes, and fuck, if you weren’t ready to lay on the couch and let him have his way. 

“Our hot chocolate,” you replied, heart beating so quickly it was as if a hummingbird had somehow made its home within you, “it’s cold.”

“If it’s cold now, it’ll be cold when we’re done.”

You laughed, then. You threw out your arms and wrapped him in them, bringing Seungcheol flush against you. He went easily, and you pressed kiss after kiss to his face, hands messing with his hair. 

“If I had known,” you said, still giggling as you pressed a final kiss underneath his chin, “before we started dating how absolute insatiable and ridiculous you are, I wouldn’t have believed it. You really had me fooled, Seungcheol.”

He chuckled, moving his arms around you. Seungcheol pressed you into him, just as you had him. “I swear, everytime you call me ‘Seungcheol’ I lose another year of my life. Next you’ll be telling me that’s my name in your phone.”

You went still against him. 

Immediately Seungcheol pulled away from you. He looked at you, scrutinizing. Then, voice severe, “Unlock your phone for me.”

That set you off laughing again. Seungcheol laid you onto the couch before searching the area for your phone. He was presenting it to you in a matter of seconds, holding it out in front of you. “Unlock it.”

“You know the passcode,” you giggled. 

“No I don’t --”

You shot him a meaningful look. Then his eyes widened, and he tapped in the date of your first date. He had a satisfied look on his face when your phone unlocked, a little smirk at the corner of his mouth. You watched as he glanced around your phone. You let out a soft sigh, extending your legs and settling them on either side of Seungcheol. 

“What.” He blinked, then blinked again. “Seungcheol. You have my full first name? Not even a heart, not a flower or something cute, no -- there’s not even a smiley face!”

You were grinning. He huffed, shoulders rising. His brows furrowed and his lips went into a full pout. “Hey. Baby, this isn’t okay!”

“I didn’t realize it was just a crime,” you said. 

He glanced over at you. As soon as Seungcheol saw you were grinning and realized the depth of your insincerity, he was sticking his hand into the pocket of his sweatpants and withdrew his phone. 

“Look,” he said, flashing you his phone screen. 

He had a picture of you from your first date as your contact photo. You were smiling, brightly and unabashedly. It was almost goofy looking, how happy you looked in that picture. 

Your name in his phone was just as sweet, and you wondered if you needed to schedule a dentist appointment first thing Monday morning from the cavities that were surely forming. 

My Baby 💖🔥

“Aw,” you said, “that’s so cute.”

His jaw dropped. “Cute -- yes, it is cute! Meanwhile you just have my full fucking government name --” “Cheolie, sweetheart, it isn’t that serious --”

He glared at you, before shoving your phone towards you. “Change it. Right now.”

“Doesn’t that ruin --”

“Don’t make me repeat what I said,” Seungcheol warned. He stood, and your eyes immediately fell to his ass. Not in a perverted way of course, but because it was art and it would be a dishonor to not observe and appreciate art. 

“I’ll be back,” he said, “and when I return you better have something so fucking cute it’ll make me cry.”

Rolling your eyes, you went about your business. You already had a cute picture of him -- one taken when he had fallen asleep behind you -- as his profile picture, so you hurriedly began typing out a name for him. 

It really wasn’t a big deal to you, and you knew it really wasn’t that big of a deal to Seungcheol either. He’s seen your contact list. Everyone had their first and last names in it, save for your family members. There were no emojis, no cute names. 

Truly, you thought, Seungcheol should consider himself privileged. 

When he returned, he had Wolfie in his arms. Her eyes were shut, and she was completely dwarfed by his bulk and the added fluff that his oversized hoodie gave him. She was perfectly content, however, and when he sat down next to you all Wolfie did was shift in his arms to further mold into his chest. 

“So?”

You smiled, holding your phone against your chest. “I don’t know, sharing the contact name of your beloved is sort of a private thing.”

He shot you a glare. 

Giggling, you held out your phone for him. 

🌸💘 My Seungcheol 💘🌸

“Is it appropriately cute?”

He hummed, tilting his head. “What are the flowers?”

“Your lips,” you said matter-of-factly. “Your lips remind me of pink blossoms.”

Shocked, Seungcheol flickered his eyes up to yours. His eyes, always rife with emotion, were round from the revelation. His lips -- his blossom pink lips -- parted, and like a magnet your eyes were on them. 

“Those are some dangerous words, baby.”

You shrugged, settling back against the couch. “Too bad you have Wolfie on you.”

He looked down at the cat, eyes narrowed. You could practically hear him cussing her out. Then he sighed, settling one of his hands on her back. Wolfie arched into it, and in the silence you could hear her beginning to purr. 

Seungcheol moved to rest against you, the two of you practically molding into one. You leaned against him, head on his shoulder, hand moving to join his in petting Wolfie. For a moment the two of you were quiet, enjoying one another, safe in the knowledge of the infatuation, adoration, yearning, the -- the love that the two of you shared, safe in the knowledge that it existed and thrived. Knowing that no matter the weight on the back, the other would be there to help brush off pebbles and destroy the rubble.

You moved your head, pressing a kiss against his shoulder. He hummed, and as you pulled back he swept down to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“You know,” he said, after the two of you settled back in your spots. “I saw the prettiest flower today while walking through the store. I took a picture of it because it reminded me of you.”

[smooth-perceval]

“Make the world go away”

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Summary: The reader is struggling after going public with Charles- reader has a breakdown when Charles returns home.

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of depression, reader hating herself a lot- a lot of body shaming, death threats, Charles being so sweet, a lot of tears, fluff, my bad writing.

Word count: 2,041

Music: Make the world go away- Duffy.

Key: Y/N (Your name)

A/N: I’ve been feeling a bit off lately- and there was no other song to describe how I felt than the one I have tagged- it’s a cover by Duffy, original singer Timi Yuro if I’m correct <3

THIS WAS RUSHED I HAVE A VERRYYYY GOOD CHARLES SERIES THAT IM STARTING AND IM EGER TO GET THE FORST CHAPTER OUT BY TOMROROW EVENING!!

Enjoy!!

Charles and me went public roughly 3 weeks ago- not officially public, but I mean it’s official in the sense I had been spotted with him during race weekend- and not exactly in a friendly manner, wrapped up with one and another at the back of his garage- stealing sweet kisses and adoring smiles.

I’ve attended races before- been in exact same spot before yet this time we got caught, and well-

My, oh my you should’ve seen the headlines…

-Charles newest trophy,

-Leclerc at it again,

-Leclerc’s mysterious girl.

-The Ferrari driver and the other woman.

The other woman? It’s been a year since his ex and him announced their split- somehow I’m the other woman? I mean give me a break…

Seriously, give me a break- the hate I’ve received for liking a boy was just unreal. Charles was a saint in their eyes- but me? Oh I was the wicked witch of the west, I somehow bewitched this boy into wanting me- it was all my fault!

Overtime the hate as always gets too much, and now I find myself every night finding a new flaw on my once perfect body. A new feature on me I didn’t realise was so disgusting until that one user online commented about it.

I found myself stuck in rotation infront of a mirror I used to once love admiring myself in. The same old mirror that now shows a broken girl, struggling to breathe like I was drowning in a pool of hatred. The world weighing me down sitting like devils on my shoulders, always reminding me that I am not good enough for the world.

Not ever good enough for Charles.

And just like a routine I was stuck in crying myself to sleep every night and ensure Charles that I was fine, “I’m just tired” I was tired truthfully, I was tired of it all, I couldn’t take it anymore- I hated myself for not loving me more, I hated me for not loving Charles more, I hated me for not being perfect for him. I hate me.

I finally urged myself to get in the shower tonight. Not only the fact I needed one- but because Charles was soon to arrive home, and I had to wash off every piece of evidence that I’ve been feeling so lost and alone.

As the night rolled on more, I laid in bed- Charles robe tied tightly around my body hiding the matching black underwear set, hair still wrapped up in a towel. The mirrors were avoided- I knew for a fact I looked terrible, but couldn’t bring myself to confirm it. My eyes were glued to the time on my phone, expecting the guy I need is such desperate times to walk through the door.

Another 10 more minutes and his back to being mine. Sighing to myself I rolled my head to the side the towel coming loose and sprawling across the bed, finally catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and like a trance I found myself sliding off the bed and over to the exact mirror, watching myself like I was hunting me down. The girl in the mirror wasn’t getting away again, she had to be judged.

My damp hair dripped behind me leaving a little trail from the bed to the mirror, some wet strands sticking to my face. With a huff I brushed them back before untying the robe, revealing my semi-naked self, my bra strap sliding down with the robe- and like my hair I brushed it back up with a defeated sigh.

Moving side to side, I observed every crease in my body, every mole, every dent, every scratch. I observed everything- stepping away from the mirror I took in my entire body, it was horrid. What did Charles see in me?

The girls he could have and he chose me- I feel sick looking at myself, I don’t know how he must feel… I hate me. I hate that nobody thinks I’m perfect for him, perfect for their Charles.

Lip quivering, and my cheeks slowly getting wetter by the moment, I slid my hands over my stomach and hips- my skin feeling rough, biting my hands at every movement.

Eating me alive- and with shallow breaths I glanced away from the mirror trying to regain some control over myself. The shallow breaths soon eased, and I finally felt like I could breathe again.

Like I wasn’t suffocating anymore, or that the room wasn’t getting smaller and as soon as I could breathe I looked back at myself once again.

“mon chéri-” (my darling)

Spinning around on the spot- caught in the act I stared at a very confused Charles.

“What are you doing?” A little smile on his face as he stepped in the room, forgetting his suitcase and bags behind him.

“I didn’t hear the door go-” swallowing the lump in my throat I quickly crouch down scrambling to grab Charles robe from the floor.

Charles had moved further into the room crouching down to my height. “And even so you still haven’t welcomed me home.” His smile grew even more teasing as he placed his knee onto the robe holding it down.

“Charles move over-” a fake laugh left me as I tugged away at the robe, more self conscious by the second.

“Where’s my kiss?”

“Two seconds let me just cover up-”

“Do I have to kiss you hm?” Raising his eyebrows he brushed my damp hair over my shoulder.

“Charles move.” Looking up at him with a glare, I pulled hardener at the fabric underneath his knee.

Now furrowing his eyebrows, he lifted his knee watching me, like a lion stalking his prey, eyes glued to me just like I was not long ago in the mirror.

Quickly scrambling away, I pulled the robe over me quickly tying it even more tighter around my waist, abruptly standing up.

“Sorry… I didn’t meant to raise my voice.” Chewing my lip anxiously, looking down at Charles, still knelt on one knee, on the floor beneath me.

“What was that all about?”

“What? Me raising my voice?”

Shaking his head, he now knelt on both knees raising himself up a little, his head at waist line as he looked up at me.

“You practically begged for this robe.”

His face showed no emotion. Truthfully he looked like he was still piecing together what just happened. “I was just getting cold that’s all- come stand up so I can welcome you home-” rubbing my hands through his hair, I slid my hands to either side of his face.

And like in a trance guided him to his feet, him now standing tall above me.

“Welcome home” leaning up onto my tip toes I kissed his lips softly.

Charles lips didn’t move against mine, they was stiff. He was now stiff.

“You’ve been crying.” Closing my eyes, I pulled away from him stepping back.

“No I haven’t long showered Charles.”

“I know what this is.” Nodding his head with surety he stepped closer. Guiding his hands to my hips and pulling me in, both of us now inches apart.

“Take it off.” His hands now found the strings of the robe pulling them loose.

“Charles-”

“I’m not asking Y/N.” With tired eyes, they silently begged me to re-undress. Mine? They filled with tears once again, lip trembling as I tired to hold it all back.

“I’m so sorry Charles…” looking down at his hands watching him intently, them now brushing the robe back off my shoulders and back onto the ground, kicking it aside.

Gulping to myself Charles now moved, looking up quickly wondering where he had gone, I then felt his presence behind me. “Look at you.” He brushed my hair over the other shoulder, now resting his head on the bare one, hands now resting on my hips again.

“Look at you mon chéri.” (My darling)

“I am looking at me…” sighing I tilt my head slightly, the tears making their way down and dripping off my chin.

“Why you crying?” His hand reached around wiping both cheeks and cupping my jaw, bringing my head to tilt his way.

“Because-”

With a delicate kiss to my cheek, he then stared at me through the mirror.

“Use your words Y/N”

With another loud sigh, I finally gave in. Pushing my back closer into his chest, his arms in an instinct manner wrapped securely around me holding me tight.

“I’m not good enough for you Charles.”

“Who said so?”

“Everyone says so-”

“My maman thinks your perfect.” Smiling a little at me his hands started caressing my body.

“I think your perfect.” He placed a gentle kiss to the top of my spine and slowly trailed kisses down it.

“I just want them all to leave me alone…” looking up at the ceiling I bite my lip, to stop more tears, and to suppress any other emotions wanting to escape.

“Who?” While once again knelt on the floor he grabbed my waist softly twirling me on the spot.

“the whole world.” Subconsciously my hands now rested on his shoulders squeezing them tight.

“Make the world go away.”

Smiling sadly up at me, his head placed itself resting against my stomach, arms hugging my legs, like a child.

“Get it off of my shoulders.”

Wrapping my arms protectively around his head I bent slightly trying to lower myself to his level. He was quick to move, now throwing me over his shoulders and moving over to the bed, and ever so softly placing me down. Throwing the towel that was once wrapped around my head somewhere else in the room.

“ma jolie fille” (my pretty girl)

Charles started placing sweet kisses over every inch of my body, whispering sweet nothings between each kiss.

“Do you realise, how absolutely gorgeous you are?” Now hovering above me, one arm supporting him up, the other tracing small circles on my inner thigh. Clouding my thoughts.

“Do you realise, that no matter if you was a worm-” pausing he rolled his eyes with a smile, reciting when I asked him a few weeks ago if he would still be with me if I was a worm.

“You do realise I would still love you with my whole entire heart and soul?”

Leaning down his lips brushed mine, hand now stopped moving- but gripping onto my thigh kneading it slowly.

“I’m not good enough for you Charles…” breathing hitched, not for holding back tears- better yet holding back a moan, Charles had me wrapped around his finger always, and the way his making me forget the such hate I have had, and the emotions I have shed. Made me love him.

“You right.” Like a shot to the chest- I started to close up.

“You more than perfect for me.” Sighing a breath of relief, my arms wrapped around his neck pulling him a little closer.

“Je t'aime Y/N.” (I love you Y/N)

Once again my breathing hitched, and my heart skipped a beat.

“I love your smile, your eyes, your nose, your lips, your ears, your neck, your shoulders, your chest, your stomach, yours legs, your feet, even your toes. I love you.”

Eyes welling up I sighed in a bliss.

“I don’t think I can ever stop the hate mon chéri… I wish I could protect you from the world truthfully. But I make you a promise that for every day I’m breathing I promise to love your heart- and fill it with pure utter happiness and love. Whatever them people are saying are wrong, and even if you looked like your little worm, I will still love that caring heart of yours.” (My darling)

Leaning down to my chest, he kisses just between my breast so gently, like if he didn’t my heart would break.

“je t'aime aussi Charles.” (I love you too Charles) Finally with a genuine smile on my face I rest my head back comfortably into the cushions.

“Now let me show you how much I love you.” Biting down on the middle of my bra he pulled at it teasingly. Causing me to giggle.

“let me welcome you home mon beau garçon.” (My pretty boy)

A/N: Okyyy it was very rushed but like I said I have a Charles x Fem!Reader series coming outttt and I wanna let you all have the first chalter as soon as possible!!!

Masterlist

[biohazardousbunnywrites]

Hi! I saw your kinktober post and the tags on it, and I was wondering-- would/could you write something for Lara Croft with biting or overstimulation? 😬 I'm in my Lara fixation era, I'm so sorry

- 🔗

oh hell yeah i can and im gonna do both.

summary: basically lara being enthusiastic about seeing you after she got home.

warnings: biting, overstimulation, oral on r, fingering (i guess i was trying to keep it vauge)

first it started with the kissing, happy to be home and happy to have her back, then that kissing got a little rougher, then the hands started roaming and now you find yourself 2 orgasms in and lara lays between your legs her fingers and mouth working together to bring you to the edge again.

"l-lara please, too muUch" you pant out back arching as she hits a particularly pleasurable spot. "you'll live" is all she says not really taking her mouth too far from her meal. her mouth is back on you like it never left drawing another orgasm out of you, she moans into you savoring your cum on her tongue. she pulls off reluctantly and crawls up your body, fingers still firmly in there place to keep you warmed up for her.

she's not done with you yet.

"you taste so good y/n" she says breathlessly. she leans down to kiss you allowing you to taste yourself all over her mouth as her fingers continue to work you over.

she kisses you deeply swallowing your moans as her fingers bring you to yet another orgasm. she breaks the kiss slowly before smugly looking at you before kissing down your body back to her spot between your bitten thighs.

you arch and let out a sob as she places her mouth firmly on you taking more of your pleasure.

your hands fly to her head clutching her hair trying to push her off but she lays another bite on your thigh to stop you from removing her. she kisses the mark when you stop.

you try to squirm away as lara goes back to work moaning at the taste of you. "just one more baby please, just one more" she says breathlessly.

you have no choice but to do so. you pant heavily coming down from your high, you look down at her meeting her eyes and seeing her smirk.

"lara please" you say. "its not my fault you look so good when you cum. just one more time please, i promise this time" she says starting to work you over again.

she places more bites and kisses on your thigh as her fingers work to bring you over the edge, her eyes locked on your form as you shake with yet another orgasm at the same time she places a particularly hard bite on your skin. you practically scream at the feeling.

"your so good for me" lara says as she starts moving her fingers bringing her mouth back to you.

she didnt stop until you were absolutely fucked dumb from her mouth and hand. your thighs littered with her bites.

she crawls up your body kisssing you deeply. "thank you baby" she says as she kisses you resisting the urge to put her fingers back on you and bring you there again but she knows if she did that she wouldnt be able to stop again. afterall its never just once more with her.

a/n: sorry this took forever i started writing it when i got the ask, then i got sick then shit was happening at work that pissed me off, also i spend a lot of time at my friend's place so i can hang out with our bird. also sorry if it sucks, i wanted to finish it before October ended.

[spctrsgf]

cold wires

summary: you crashed in maldo kreis. and it’s cold.

word count: 752

warnings: language like once, i can't write blurbs

a/n: HELLOOOOOOO omg it feels so so nice to be back to writing after all this time !! thank u all for bearing with me as i went thru my slump :((( life has been a lot recently and im in over my head but ANYWAYS ofc i had to come back w shiny<333 will get on my requests asap too 🫡

“It's frigid on this damn planet.” 

Din lets out the smallest huff and your remark, so small that you wouldn't have heard it if it weren't for his modulator. He's to your left, working on another panel of the ship as you try to get the electricity up and running. 

It's been a good few hours since the Crest had crashed down into Maldo Kreis, and the ship had already gained a thin sheen of ice and touched freezing temperatures. Your companions were all dancing about, trying their best to help to no avail. 

“Less grumbling, more working.” His voice cuts through the crisp air like a sword, shaking you from your frozen thoughts and back to the problem at hand. The wires were all frosted as well, apparently, even though you had warmed them not long ago. You twist them in your fingertips again with a sigh, careful not to shock your fingers.

Bustling about, you and Din fall back into a serene sort of silence as both of you focus your attention on the work in front of you again. His presence makes it easier for you to do the said thing, getting the wires to where they needed to be in order to start up the engine again. 

“Good job.” Din nods his head at you in a sign of thanks and respect, noticing the lights flicker on. You beam, happy to have helped in some way. You both reenter the hull, content in your achievements and ready to start up the Crest again. The ice planet was– surprise surprise– not the most pleasant to spend one’s time. 

Aaaaaaaaaand your hands were still freezing.

You hated complaining, really. Din had been so generous as to take you under his protection, to let you tag along as he and the Child traveled to countless planets. He had opened up, even if only in the slightest, making you feel more at home in the tiny ship then anywhere else you had been previously. Because of this, you felt a little weird complaining much, as silly as that seems and as small as this issue was. 

But it was cold. And you couldn’t really feel your hands. Before you could think too much harder on it, the words roll off your tongue and tumble out of your mouth in a nearly pathetic grumble. “My hands are still fucking icebergs.” Your cheeks dust a shade pinker and your eyes drop down to your shoes as Din turns from his spot near his bed. 

It’s silent in the hunk of the ship. You don't dare to peek up at the beast of a man in front of you, regretting even saying the words that had just come out of your mouth. How could you even say that? After he had just spent the whole time next to you in the cold? How inconsiderate. The urge to apologize rushes up into your throat before you can process it, ejecting from your mouth in some wicked sort of word vomit. 

But, before you can even process that he’s moved at all, Din’s got your hands in his own, enveloped. The words of apology that were about to leave your mouth sputter and pop, dispersing into nothing more than a gasp of surprise. You forget he can move that fast sometimes. 

His hands are warm. Tucked beneath gloves, they must feel quite soft, you think. You wish you knew. Sighing, you let his hands warm your own. And it's comfortable, this moment. There was no awkwardness in the silence, in the proximity, in the way your breaths match to create a melody that adorns the warmth in your hands and your cheeks.

You muster enough courage to tilt your head up to meet the sharp line of his visor, since turned soft by the way his thumb rubs back and forth on the back of your hand, barely any movement at all. “Thank you.” You breathe out, earnest in the way the words dance out of your mouth. He only offers a small nod, surely adorned with one of his soft smiles you know hide underneath his beskar visor.

And that's when you hear the Kid’s giggle.

Your eyes widen, Din’s head ticks up. “We should probably go check that out,” You quip, turning away from your moment before a second thought can be formulated. “Make sure he’s okay.” Your companion nods, streaking ahead of you as you draw your gun.

Something tells you he won’t be.  

[drei-mrssvechii]

have you ever been ice skating? | mat barzal

join my taglist!

pairing: mat barzal x reader

warnings: kids, mentions of falling down

word count: 582

a/n: so it's been a while since i wrote something and i came up with this at midnight so hope u enjoy it! be kind, always open to feedback, requests, etc, etc.

Your husband, Mat, was a professional hockey player, which meant he spent a lot of his time on the ice; and your son, Eli definitely got the skating skills from him, because you had never been ice skating. You’d usually watch from the tv or the stands but never tried it. 

However, Eli had asked to go skating a million times, begging for you to come this time and there was no way you could say no to his cute pouty face and looking at you with those hazel eyes, so you ended up agreeing.

While Mat was tying your skates, your son was jumping all over the place, waiting for his dad to finish. Once you were ready he was the first to step onto the ice and as he began to skate across the ice without any guidance, panic set in and the sudden urge to back off crashed at you. 

“I don’t think I can do this” you said, eyes wide open and feet wobbly. 

“C’mon babe, of course you can. Best teacher on Long Island here, eh?” Mat assured you and left a quick kiss on your lips.

“Mom!! You watching me? Come in, it’s gonna be fun!” You nervously laughed and trying not to think much about it, you took two deep breaths and left all worries behind. 

“Ok, I can do it, I definitely can.” You kept repeating the mantra as Mat stepped onto the ice first, his hands never leaving yours. “Let’s get it over with”

Then he helped you onto the ice and when your legs wanted to give out on the slippery surface, his grip on your body tightened. Just like that, he started guiding you through a few laps around the rink. 

Little by little you were getting the hang of it until Mat let go of your hands and skated away.

“Let’s try on your own. Skate to me” You took a hesitant first stride, Mat’s advice playing in the background.

Confidence is key. Take a deep breath, look up, and focus on balance. 

You reached Mat in no time, with a huge smile on his face, he placed his hands on your waist and spun you around excitedly.

“See? It’s not that hard.”

“What can I say? I have such a great coach.” You joke with a huge grin on your face. Maybe skating wasn’t that bad after all.

“Mom. Mom. Mom. Let's race!” You looked at Eli, not sure you could beat him in a race. At least you could stand without falling over but his little feet sure had more practice than you. But you’d do anything to see a smile on his face, so even though as soon as Mat shouted “Go!”  Eli had already skated away at a great speed, you started off confident, at least you’d make it to the finish line in one piece.

Until you hit a bump on the ice, wide-eyed you instantly fell on your butt.

“Ouch. That one hurt.” You wailed as both boys skated to your side.

“Don’t worry” you laughed briefly “I’m fine but I’d be nice if you could help me up.”

“This whole ice skating thing? I don’t think it’s my thing” you spoke again.

“You’ll get some bruises but with some more practice you could go to the Olympics” Mat joked as he lightly chuckled.

“So funny, Barz. My feet actually hurt, can we go now?”

“Yeah, sure. Come on buddy, mama needs some rest.”

-

taglist: @fallinallincurls @barzyblogbabe @hockey-racing-fubol @beauvertime @ssebastianaho @stars-canucks @kailyn-writes @owenpowerstapejob @boeswhore @quietblues @barzyandhughesbaby @this-is-ally-and-im-confused @svechnikov3737 @honeygarfield @1-800-iluvhockey @cammieshockeyblog | join here!

[hp-hcs]

i love ur fics sm omf.....

i am massively abnormal and mentally ill so thinking ab yan theo and mattheo with a gryffindor reader, clearly toxic but in which reader tries to break up with them .... failing miserably and just getting manipulated by them about how he's gonna get hurt and everyone but them wants to hurt him. he refuses to believe which just makes them go take the violent route since he was making it hard for them 🙁

and could i possibly be 🦦 anon? hope im not bothering, have a nice day or night !! <3

of course you can, lovely 🦦 anon!!

i absolutely adore the amount of angst in this request

also no i totally didnt base a lot of this on my own ex bf what no thatd be crazy

abuse warning! stay safe!!

toxic — yandere! manipulative! theodore nott x gn! reader x yandere! manipulative! mattheo riddle

requests open

‼️heavy abuse warning‼️

(physical, verbal, emotional, & psychological; lots of manipulation and gaslighting)

U.S. National Domestic Violence Hotline: 800-799-7233

Text line: Text START to 88788

YOU DESERVE SAFETY. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“We’re breaking up. I can’t do this anymore.”

Theodore looked up at you quizzically from where he was reading on the couch. “Hm?”

“I’m breaking up with you. Both of you.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Mattheo sighed, shaking his head. “We can’t in good conscience let you do that.”

“See, here’s the thing, Matty,” you laugh humorlessly. “I don’t care.”

“But baby,” Theo said softly, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at you with puppy dog eyes.

You steeled yourself as you started to feel the melting effects of that damn expression of his. “I can’t. Not anymore. It’s too fucking exhausting.”

“What is, baby?” Theodore pleaded, reaching out to grab your hand. “Tell us so we can fix it.”

The urge to shy away from this conversation, to apologize profusely for trying to leave, and to shove all of your emotions down until you felt numb again was overwhelming.

Theo rubbed the knuckles of your hand with his thumb. “Baby…”

You took a breath and steeled yourself again. “The everything, Theo. The lying. The cheating. The benders every weekend. The screaming at each other and the ghosting me. The waiting for me to come crawling back to you. Begging you to take me back every fucking time. Apologizing for everything even when it wasn’t my fault.”

“Ba-”

“No. I’m talking right now. The manipulation. The love bombing. I’m sick of it. I’m. Done.”

“Now, c’mon, darlin’,” Mattheo said placatingly. “Don’t be like that. You know none of that was our fault.”

“None? You slept with half of our year while we were dating.”

“Are,” Theo corrected. “Are dating.”

“Cute. No.”

“Baby, who else could possibly love you as much as we do?” Mattheo pouted, reaching out for your wrist and using it to tug you down onto his lap.

You stiffened, trying to free your wrist from his slowly tightening grasp. “Literally anyone. It’s not like you guys do anything.”

“Don’t do anything? Sweetheart, we protect you,” Theo chuckled with a sharp smile.

“Oh yeah?” You scoffed, managing to free your wrist and get out of Mattheo’s lap. “Protect me from who?”

“There’s a lot of bad people out there, doll. People who’d want to hurt you if they got the chance.”

“What, like you?”

“We’ve never laid a hand on you, sweetheart. Not once,” Mattheo sneered the last word like a curse, his greedy hands reaching out to snatch your arm again.

You flinched minutely, stepping back from his grasping hands. “I don’t care. We’re over, whether you like it or not.”

“Oh, stop it, darlin’,” Theo cooed patronizingly, standing up from the couch and crowding into your space. “You need us. Who else would care about you as much as we do? Who else would want you?”

“I. Don’t. Care.” You gritted out, shoving at his chest.

The boys shared a look—one you couldn’t quite read.

Suddenly, Theodore caught your jaw in his hand, squeezing tight. “You’d better shut up, sweetheart. Before one of us gets mad.”

“Dude, are you threatening me? I wi-”

Your sentence was cut off by a harsh slap.

You froze, mouth hanging open.

Your hand slowly went to your stinging cheek as you stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

Theo at least had the tact to look guilty. “Baby- baby, I’m so sorry- it was an accident, I swear.”

You didn’t move, still processing what had just happened.

“Sweetheart? Darlin’, I’m sorry. I really am. You were just making me so mad…It was an accident, swear. It’ll never happen again, promise,” he cooed gently, stooping down to cup your cheeks in his hands with utter gentleness and care.

He hissed sympathetically when you flinched back from the pressure on your already-reddening cheek, gently stroking his thumb over it.

As you looked up at his apologetic and remorseful expression, you could feel a flicker of tenderness as you were reminded of the sweet boy you fell in love with in the first place.

“It’s okay, Theo,” you whispered, your words betrayed by the way your voice cracked. You swallowed thickly, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. “It was an accident.”

Theo made a show of sighing in relief. “Thank you, darling. But now you know to shut your mouth, don’t you baby? You know I don’t wanna hear you fucking saying that shit again, mhm?”

You just nodded mechanically.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

hey! guess what! it absolutely will happen again! if your partner ever hits you, call a friend to come get you and then leave. it’s not worth it to stay, trust me.

to my taglisters! i haven’t tagged you in this due to its sensitive content. you know your boundaries and limits better than i do. stay safe.

— hp-hcs xx

[aphroditesmoon]

hello! i have a request for you, but first i wanted to say i’ve enjoyed reading your wednesday/wenclair works :)

may i please have gn reader x gwen relationship details? like cute things you notice about her, how she shows affection, or anything else you want to include? thank you in advance!

gwen stacy x reader fluff hcs #2

a/n: omgggg tysm for reading my wenclair works🥹 I've found that writing is one of the only ways i could express myself as a queer person in a very hom0phobic country, im glad other people also find enjoyment in them!

warnings: none, fluff.

♤♤♤♤

- she was very awkward having you come yo her band practise at first, at least in the early stages of your relationship.

- she ended up playing badly because she couldn't focus with you around.

- it all gets better when she realizes you can't tell the difference anyways and still tell her you think she did great💀

- cuddling with her is never really a "whos the big spoon" question, she prefers to have her face buried in the crook of your neck, so if she's hugging you from behind, or from the front, it doesn't matter.

- when she's feeling protective of you in some days, she'll definitely have your face planted on her chest, trying to hide your body in her arms.

- bad cook gwen !! 🗣🗣 she can make a neat instant noodle though, take it or leave it.

- you took on to learning how to make simple recipe foods when your started dating her, banana pancakes, a decent omelette, and a good ol' fashion pasta. she really loves how much you love making her food, like it's your love language.

-she has a picture of you in her wallet, from your first date. hobie absolutely destroys her with embarrassment while announcing to everyone that gwendy has a special someone she's hiding

- you two lovw thrifting together, theres a pretty crowded and known city in her universe with lots of tourism spots and cool trinket shops, and yet the two of you will always find yourselves in a thrift shop there, choosing clothes for eachother.

- teaching you to play drums (you lasted a week and gave up, neither of you ever mention it again)

- her first tattoo is on the back of her neck, a lyric from a song in the playlist you made for her.

- you have a spider tattoo on your back too, something to remind you of her.

- late night burger dates at the same burger stall by the corner of her apartment, the dude already memories yalls orders too.

- she always loses her jacket or hoodie but never worrying bcs soon enough she'll see that you're wearing it.

- she likes to buy you random things she thinks you'd like, like a sun shaped keychain, a book you've mentioned once, a cat mug that costed her 70$

- she also likes it when you'll randomly intertwine your hands together, you'll be walking together or simply talking and sitting, and you'll have the urge to hold her hands, she'll immediately leane into your touch.

[shibology]

mine, all mine <3

genre: angst to comfort

summary - reader is sad, overworked, and crying and rika comforts them

extras - established relationship w rika, reader gender isn't specified, third person, reader is a people pleaser (im projecting), also a huge workaholic, intentional all lowercase, reader's ace is a lycanroc, little dialogue for reader i'm sorry, also a bit short i'm sorry y'all

as the brand new champion, you've been constantly off on interviews and being challenged by trainers who looked up to you. you always accepted these offers in fear of not being liked by others. because of all you did, it was common you wouldn't have the proper time to eat or even drink anything. you also devoted a lot of time to training your pokemon and making sure they were their best, which lead to you commonly being sick from overwork, even prior to becoming champion.

rika, your girlfriend, was currently at work at the league. she had to be there especially early today for some event, meaning that you two didn't get to spend the morning together. it made you sad, but that's how her work was. you found yourself once again sick from how hard you've been working and struggled to get out of bed. you attempted to stretch your arms to grab the bottle of water that was on the nightstand located at your side of the bed, but you were just too weak. and despite being sick, you couldn't help but feel like you haven't been working hard enough recently.

you're afraid of not being able to uphold your newfound reputation as champion. the mere idea of having people see you as less important as you currently are made your stomach hurt. your goals of wanting to be someone others can look up to was clearly taking a toll on you as you finally managed to make it out of bed, but not before you hissed in pain from your tired legs. you finally managed to drag your tired legs to the bathroom to make yourself look somewhat presentable, i mean, you're not going out today anyways.

you sat on the couch and curled yourself up. it seems that you weren't sure when to quit, because the urges and desires to work filled your mind, you wanted to try, just for today, just to push yourself a little further to sharpen your skills. so, you did. you got up, put your clothes on, and went out to practice.

in the middle of your training session, you felt dizzy. *really* dizzy. you stumbled back and placed a hand on your forehead, trying to ground yourself. your lycanroc quickly approaching you in a panic, but all you remember is hearing a loud thump on the ground of your yard as you completely fainted.

you weren't sure how long you were out for, but you could imagine rika's face when she came home from work and your lycanroc immediately ran up to her, beckoning her to follow it to the backyard, and it showing her you passed out on the ground. her expression immediately dimmed as she ran to your side. "hey, baby, are you there?" she called out, shaking you slightly. when you didn't wake up immediately, her heart rate quickly increased as she scrambled to get her phone to call somebody.

you woke up to the bright lights of the hospital you were at, immediately shutting your eyes to avoid the brightness. you sat up and looked around, not seeing rika anywhere. did she forget about you? were you not good enough for her? did she not want you anymore? you felt embarrassed, humiliated, and upset. and all of these feelings came out in the form of tears that quickly began to stream down your face. your hands began to shake as you cried into your palms.

the door slid open, a rika who was holding a plastic bag to quickly dropping it and rushing over to you. "hey, hey, baby, calm down, alright? it's okay, i'm here." she placed a hand on your cheek and pulled you into an embrace, you instinctively wrapped your arms around her, quietly sobbing into her chest as she rubbed your back and held you close. "you're safe, alright. what happened?" she asked, half not expecting an answer as you were currently sobbing your eyes out on her, but you quickly pulled yourself from her and spoke. "i don't know if i'm good enough, what if my lack of hard work has made people think less of me?" you said in a series of broken sobs, which caused her heart to shatter into pieces right there. you were her everything, and seeing you speak these things about yourself and see yourself so lowly made her want to cry herself. she brushed a stray piece of hair from your face and spoke

"don't say that about yourself," she placed a hand on your cheek softly, pressing a kiss to your hot forehead before speaking again. "you're hardworking. very hardworking. you push yourself to limits that nobody could ever think of, and you did all of this to become the champion," she paused once more, rubbing circles on the back of your hand which was at your lap. her facial expression remaining somber as she kissed you once more.

"..and that's what makes you special. you're the most hardworking person i know, you always try your hardest for people. so stop worrying about how others perceive you and live your own life. i'll support whatever you do.. try to remember that." these words felt like the soothing medicine to a deep wound in your heart, you shifted yourself up and pressed a kiss to her lips as she handed you a few tissues.

..You knew you would both be okay in the end.