#these boys have me EMOTIONAL they love each other SO MUCH

[sillysoliloquyshits]

I watched a few movie reviews on Nezha 2 and one of them on two white guys (iirc) doing a podcast on their surface thoughts on the movie kinda threw me off as one of them said 'one thing that was off-putting to me was a lot of onscreen crying' or something like that. Which is super off-putting to me actually.

I mean what do you mean? Your little brother or mother or wife just died in front of your eyes what do you mean you should not cry and it's not a natural response? Ao Bing cried into his dad at the start as he felt so awful for letting his dad down and his buddy nearly died if he didn't intervene. Ne Zha cried so hard when he saw his parents again because he really thought they were gone. Both kids are three years old for the love of God. And Shen Gong Bao is a literal family man he has a soft spot for his little brother of course when he died trying to escape he had to cry so much and to be honest, I've watched videos of how the animation team spent a long time animating and planning the crying scene for him to ensure it's perfect. The creative team has spent so long to ensure every detail to actually ensure the whole story and every shot and scene will have a lasting emotional impact to touch the audience.

And another thing that's also respectable is how the team and the story in general is very committed to fleshing out the characters and ensuring they are all very relevant to the plot and have their own personal stories in a sequel, which is not often seen nowadays given how hard it is to make a better sequel (but that's another story and post I digress, but anyway-)

What I'm trying to say is that we all need more stories of boys openly crying. The only other movies off the top of my head I can think that has boys openly crying are maybe Coco, or Luca and maybe HTTYD, and I feel Nezha 2 has done a great job in showing the different sides of healthy masculinity, in how it's okay for boys to ugly cry and for dads to be tough on the exterior while also being very caring and gentle to their own sons, and for close brotherhood bonds being a soft side of characters. And it also dispels a stereotype in how Asians are often stoic and not as emotional as westerners, as while a lot of Chinese and Asians are quite stoic, there are plenty of people who see themselves in Ao Bing and Ne Zha and etc.

And I also saw a post earlier on how Ne Zha and Ao Bing defy societal rules and societal expectations respectively, with Ao Bing doing so by being outwardly feminine in looks and being elegant while precise and aggressive in his attacks and still being able to be confident in his self, while Ne Zha has been insecure in his own looks until the end. And personally I feel the movie is a great place for kids and boys especially to learn that masculinity can be anything they can define, like how one can be more confident like Ao Bing even when he's not traditionally masculine, while knowing it's okay to be insecure and that they can overcome judgements in society.

And with their friendship and loyalty to each other (and possibly *cough* *gay* *it's ok if you don't ship them*), it also teaches boys that male friendships can be very close knit where they can be vulnerable to one another, like how Nezha soon learnt to be vulnerable around Ao Bing and how Ao Bing learnt to follow his heart through Ne Zha's influence. Boys can learn from one another and become emotionally stronger together like it's not just a girls thing yay-

So yeah this is another long ramble but tldr again:

Nezha 2 is a fantastic movie on healthy masculinity and we need more movies like this for boys especially to learn that expressing strong emotions are very healthy and essential in being a person. And we need to punch toxic masculinity to death the way Lu Tong and He Tong did at the end to the bald bitch so-

[russeliarat]

Im constantly putting out LU headcanons when I'm stupid tired at like 2am, so have a couple for funsies:

Four has seizures sometimes. The dissociative kind but also the kind that is epileptic because his brain needs to reset. Yes this is borne from people saying portals throw bricks at him in fics. I imagine that a lot of powerful magic overwhelming the brain can be a seizure trigger in the world of LoZ, as per the logic of seizures.

I also think Four's 4'4 (132cm) and does have proportionate dwarfism. Like it's specifically a random genetic mutation thing though, not a 'Minish Cap adventure kept him shrunk' thing.

Hyrule's fully fae to me. Idk I just think it's more interesting, especially if you go off of what fae are like in European folklore. The idea of a fae choosing to live like a hylian after thousands of years of witnessing how humanoid creatures live. Like they're natural shapeshifters idk, as long as their magic is powerful enough, they can become anything.

Hyrule's appearance comes from finding Legend's disguise ring after Legend died and Hyrule deciding to take on the appearance when he shape-shifts. Probably the start of getting his sisters to use masculine descriptors and pronouns for him.

People have suspicions that Hyrule is fae-inclined, touched by the fae, or straight up is a fae based on his behaviour but no one's got anything concrete and it's mostly based on their personal knowledge of fae and their era's perceptions of the fae. And Hyrule definitely has gotten them all to introduce themselves to him as Link so going by fae rules, Hyrule could basically claim ownership and power over them. He just doesn't coz he doesn't want to (yet.)

We all know Legend is a soggy bastard but he's the 'I miss my wife tails' gay edition sort of soggy. That prob made no sense icl but those who get it, get it.

Sky's got an undiagnosed form of narcolepsy. It severely got in the way of his studies in Skyloft but he barely managed to pass it off enough that it didn't raise alarm bells (coz he was trying not to raise alarm bells in his own brain). It gets worse during the course of this new adventure because he's going through so many extreme emotions and doing so much physical activity that he's exhausting himself into sleep attacks constantly. Yes the chain are worried, yes Sky is deep in denial that anything is wrong with him. Good ol' hiding your issues Link over here.

Legend is Fable's twin. He just got passed between caretakers a lot (whole lot of being given to his uncle and then being forced by the king (his grandfather) to pass Lege back to them and so on), but he remained quite attached to his sister. A telepathic link helps. The two calm each other down and lot and they take care of each other. The two are quite similar - stern, far too wise for their years with too much experience under their belts, and very very traumatised so they hide it behind a face of pure disdain.

My Zeldas are all topsy-turvy so Aurora is AoL Zelda and Dawn is LoZ 1 Zelda. Hyrule's got an amiable friendship with Dawn but his affections lie with Aurora. She's kinda insane and let herself break a shit ton of fae rules because girl is mad in love with that boy.

Athena (yes Athena fits her so much better than Artemis guys pls I've been saying this for years) is like a big sister to Time and Wind, and she has a dependable colleague-like-but-also-kinda-dependant relationship with Warriors. It's weird, she helped raise Mask and Tune in the war where she could so it stemmed from that. She also knows Twi but only in Wolfie form. Yes chat, HW really fucks up everything but you gotta roll with it, he was in the game and yes I do believe Athena met him in the game.

I've posted in the past about my hc that Legend's transformation into a rabbit leaves his skeletal and muscular structures very weak and it causes him to go limp for a short amount of time coz his body is running on fumes. Yeah so combined with his time in Holodrum as a traveling performer/acrobat, he's just insanely hypermobile and flexible, and he can basically dislocate every bones in his body that connects to a joint. Including his spine/neck he found out one day to terrifying news when he just couldn't move at all when he hit his back wrong. He can obviously relocate them too (his back he maybe needs more assistance with), but it really freaks people out.

One more coz you've gotten more than I thought I'd type. I'm spreading the Four is buff as shit propaganda. At least his upper body anyway. He's a trained blacksmith, he's gotta have a lot of strength in his arms to hammer away at melting metal all day. (Plus gotta give him some kind of advantage, that boy got the short (ha) end of the stick in life and got nerfed to all hell and back)

[vandnana]

In Love With The Enemy [IV]

Chapter 4: Toruk Makto Will Disappear

pairing: lo’ak x female turned na’vi reader

summary: during the time when jake became toruk makto, you were quaritch’s youngest and most valued soldier, the daughter he never had. but, pandora changed you and you died during the final battle, betraying quaritch and wishing that you had been able to do more. now, you have been reborn again, as a na’vi, tasked with quaritch’s new military avatar crew to kill Jake Sully. taking advantage of this second chance at life, you help the Sullys and fall in love along the way.

genre: fluff, angst ~ slow burn, pining on lo’ak’s part.

warnings: mentions of blood, war, violence

highlights: [jake and reader having moments as best friends, mo'at throwing down wisdom, classic sully sibling bickering, more of reader's backstory with quaritch, lo'ak and reader moments!]

word count: 13,394

note: i'm back from the dead like our dear reader with a long awaited update! i am so sorry to my lovers clan for taking so long. for everybody who has waited so patiently, thank you. and for all who are new, welcome!

| prologue | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 |

When Spider awoke, he was immediately blinded by fluorescent lights that hung above him, his head aching as he sat up. The steel of the platform he was lying on made his body feel cold, and as he looked around the room, windowless and white, his heart felt cold too, the lack of life around him so bewildering and unfamiliar. Shifting, he winced, and looking down he found a wound on his right arm—a gash that he had earned while falling onto the forest ground, bandaged with a white wrapping.

Then, he instantly thought of you, overcome with worry as he wondered if you were alright.

Everything had happened so fast.

One moment, you had finally made up with him and you had solidified that bond while flying to the Tree of Souls—that sense of togetherness irreplaceable in his heart.

But before he even had time to truly cherish that moment, the unthinkable happened. Stuck, captured, and alone, Spider's anger and frustration overwhelmed him, his breathing rapid suddenly as he took his emotions out on the walls that kept him. Banging on the double glass, he yelled out with fury, knowing that his captors were watching on the other side.

He struck the glass and the walls until his hands hurt and his knuckles bled, the pain of the impact from the metal clouded by that rage. In truth, he was so exhausted, but he kept on going, the fire inside fueling him as he goaded the soldiers to face him.

Then, suddenly the doors of the room opened, revealing the group of soldiers that had captured him, “Looks like Jungle boy’s awake.” Zdinarsk said with a half-grin.

Spider hissed, bearing his teeth, but that only caused a roll of laughter from each of the soldiers.

“So, you think you’re one of them.” There was a pause as the soldiers stepped aside to reveal who the voice belonged to.

It was Quaritch, his demeanor distant and demanding as he inspected Spider, frowning as he looked at him, intensely displeased, “What’s your name boy?”

Spider didn’t answer, glaring at him bitterly, the defiance making Quaritch’s blood boil. He took one of his guns out, laughing slightly as he unlocked the safety, “I’m only gonna ask you nicely one more time, but after that it’s gonna hurt.”

Spider hesitated before caving in. He gritted his teeth as he responded, meeting Quaritch's eyes with vileness, “Who are you? Tell me that and maybe I’ll answer.”

“Colonel Quaritch.” He let his eyes go to the gun, before eyeing Spider again, “Now again, boy, what’s your name?”

Spider's eyes only widened for a moment before he could feel his rage summit within him, scorn undercutting that growing anger as he scoffed, “Don’t you recognize your own son?”

It wasn't until this moment that Spider realized how much he longed to face his father, to finally look the man who didn't want him in the eye.

The rest of the soldiers teetered, all of them sharing shock as they looked at him. The last time they had seen him, he was only a baby, and here he was in front of all them— grown-up.

Quaritch put the gun down, stepping backward for a moment as he felt a sudden throb afflict his heart, “Miles?” He paused, kneeling down, the twinge in his heart making itself known as he spoke again, this time softer, quieter, “Thought they would have sent you back to earth.”

“So, that's what you named me huh? My name is Spider, and they can’t put babies in cryo, dipshit.” Spider spat, crossing his arms as he kept a snarl on his face.

Quaritch was stunned.

What did he feel for this kid? Guilt? Love? Sadness? Relief? For the briefest moment, he let his resolve down, the realization of who Spider was unexpectedly softening his expression, whispers of those emotions attempting to breach the surface.

To the rest of the regiment it was unperceived, the mask of his steely glare lending his usual gruff. But, Spider saw it clearly. In that blink of time, the awareness of his father's startling vulnerability gripped him, anchoring itself into his mind and forcing its weight onto his heart.

This was the moment that Spider had waited for. He had expected to be angry and stay angry, to affix betrayal, heartache, and pain to the man in front of him who was supposed to be his family. And yet, he felt a tenderness grow within him, an unforeseen ache that he couldn't define or perhaps, didn't want to define.

Like his father, he maintained his reserve of anger as he spit again at them, pushing down whatever was brewing in him and remembering why he was with them and what was at stake for the Sullys.

Turning to Zdinarsk, Quaritch ordered coldly, “Take him to Ardmore and the science pukes. We’ll see what he knows.” Aggressively, Zdinarsk grabbed Spider by the back of the neck, the rest of the soldiers escorting him out into the hallway with Quaritch behind them.

Quaritch was barely dealing with his loss of you, and now, he had his other child with him. He didn’t know what to think, only that his memories allowed him a fraction of affection compared to what he had for you.

Leading him into one of the main console rooms, they were met by General Ardmore, her hands behind her back as she looked at Spider up and down. The soldiers snickered as Spider fought against their strong grips, amused by his pointless attempt at escape.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" She motioned toward the large contraption in the middle of the room, a device unlike anything Spider had ever seen before, "Strap him in."

Zdinarsk pushed Spider onto the vertical piece of white metal of the contraption, securing him with the accompanying restraints. Over his face, Wainfleet fastened a clear plastic mask and tightening it, Spider could feel the pressure focus itself on every part of his skull.

He saw Ardmore ahead of him through what appeared to be a green membrane within the device's overall metal structure, "Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

She paused to lean forward, her glare intense, "Where is Jake Sully hiding?"

"I. Don't. Know." The disdain in Spider's voice was evident as he dragged out every syllable.

Sighing, Ardmore stepped backward, pressing a large red button beside her, "I thought you might say that."

A loud whirring sound erupted from the device, triggering it on as the green membrane slowly started to spin. Immediately, the pressure he had felt before became a burning sensation. Like a singe to every synapse, Spider's brain was on fire, the intensity of it building and building.

"Feel that? That's the radiation reading your brain or rather frying it. Good for us, not so good for you. So, I'll ask you again, where is Jake Sully?" Ardmore yelled out.

Spider could barely see her now, the motion of the radiation screen dizzying him, "I told you I don't know! You're gonna have to kill me!"

Quaritch and the other soldiers watched from the clear glass room behind Ardmore, their eyes switching between Spider and the holographic projection of his brain. The scientists helping Ardmore were observing his brain activity, but they detected no viable information, shaking their heads when Ardmore turned around for an update.

"You're gonna have to do better than "I don't know," Keeping her composure, her tone was clear, but she was beginning to get frustrated by Spider's stubbornness, "There's no use in hiding the truth. Just form a thought and we'll see it. Now, where is his base? Is it in the Floating Mountains? Where is he?"

Over and over and over again, it was the same question and the same answer, every second of resistance tormenting him.

Quaritch, on the outside, was apathetic and uncaring, his arms crossed as he stood tall amongst his regiment. But, something inside of him snapped when Spider’s nose began to bleed and his eyes began to roll backwards. Marching out of the room, he pressed the red button, the spinning of the device halting immediately.

He turned over to Ardmore, his own request surprising him, “General, Let me try the old-fashioned approach.”

Zdinarsk and Wainfleet took Spider back to his steel cell, and it was clear that he had been weakened, his usual aggressions no longer a problem for them as they easily grabbed hold of him.

Ardmore raised an eyebrow, clearly displeased as she reluctantly nodded, “He’s not your child.”

She was right. He wasn’t Quaritch’s child. He never was.

You were.

But because of Lyle's lie, Quaritch only knew you to be dead.

He sighed, exhaling as he ached over missing you so badly. Even he couldn't believe his own actions, rationalizing that it was the Na'vi part of him that arose a subconscious motivation for caring about the son he knew he never wanted. Although he hated to be in the form of his enemy, he only realized how relieved, how grateful, he felt to be by your side again. While he reveled in fulfilling his vengeance, it was you who had made this new resurgence of life worth living. And it hurt more to recognize that it took you being gone from him for that feeling to settle.

Quaritch waited a while before he finally entered the cell, the opening of the doors revealing Spider sitting on the platform he had woken up on, his knees up and his arms resting on them.

Filling the room was an awkward tension, the two staring at one another before Quaritch knelt down, “From what I remember, I know I wasn’t the best father to you."

Spider huffed, crossing his arms and turning his back away from him.

Sitting down, he took his son by the arm, pulling him forward and forcing him to face him in the eye, "Look, I only cared for my daughter. I admit that. And now that she's dead I—“

“Your daughter? Dead?” In his disbelief, Spider's mouth gaped, eyebrows raised and his forehead crinkled.

Quaritch was visibly bothered, the slightest wince showing in the crinkling of his eyes as he answered the question, “I came here to kill Jake Sully," He lowered his eyes, his voice like the sound of a hiss as he sneered, "And now that he's killed her, just like he did when I was human, I really can't let him live."

Gulping, Spider nodded, biting his tongue as he withheld the truth, unsure of what would ensue if he let out that you were alive.

Changing his demeanor, Quaritch let go of Spider's arm, resting his palms on the top of his thighs. Quaritch appealed to his son with a brightened tone, “I’m not gonna ask you to give up Sully. I know you’d never do that. You’re loyal.”

He paused again, gritting his teeth, “But so am I. I’m not letting my little girl die in vain. You and me, we’re nothing to each other, really. So, you don’t have to think of me as your father.”

Quaritch paused, looking out at the door, the glint of worry in his eyes betraying his previous words, “But, just ride along, okay? Otherwise, I’ll have to give you back to Ardmore.”

Spider reluctantly nodded, and seeing that confirmation, Quaritch left. Spider watched his father go, and although Quaritch seemed to maintain his stern appearance, Spider could distinguish the agony he felt inside over losing you.

How could he not?

He laid back down on the platform, rubbing his temples. He suddenly felt conflicted. Finally meeting his father, Spider saw Quaritch for who he was. He was a military man all the way, hard and callous. But, underneath that harsh exterior, he saw so clearly how much he loved you. Guilt washed over him without warning. Spider hated that he felt guilty for keeping you being alive a secret, hated that in the presence of the man that rejected him, he could only be silent.

But, he also felt guilty for the small part of him that was actually glad his father didn’t know the truth. Because without you, even for a momentary time, maybe Quaritch would finally see him as his son.

He had finally looked the man in the eye, and he hated himself for suddenly feeling so torn. Yet, it was an inner feeling he just couldn't control. Spider couldn’t help but care about what his father thought of him suddenly, couldn’t help but want some sort of approval from the man who rejected him.

He scolded himself for thinking so selfishly, so stupidly. Turning to his side and closing his eyes, Spider pushed those thoughts away, reminding himself why he ended up where he was in the first place.

He was uncertain about what he would face with the regiment, but he knew one thing.

The Sullys' safety, your safety—he would do what he could to ensure it.

-

“What happened?” Jake angrily yelled as Lo’ak carried you off his ikran.

Neytiri was beside him, attending to Kiri and Tuk, both of them crying hysterically as Kiri repeated with a trembling voice, “Spider, they took him! They took him!”

Jake could only focus on you though, his mind warping reality as fear and panic came over him. You were practically lifeless, your arms dangling over and your head tilted backward. It was exactly how you looked when he was holding your dying body.

He quickly ran to you, taking your body from Lo'ak's arms.

“Y/n! Y/n!” Jake called to you, his voice almost breaking as he felt your pulse, only slight relief coming to him as you showed just the weakest sign of life.

Turning his attention back on Lo’ak, he repeated his original question, nostrils flaring as he slowly spoke, every syllable enthralled with his simmering anger, “What happened?”

"It was my fault, sir. I-" Neteyam began, stepping forward in front of his brother per usual.

But Jake shook his head at his oldest son, "I wasn't asking whose fault it was," His eyes turned to Lo'ak suddenly, Jake's fatherly instinct already getting ahead of him, "I asked what happened."

The fury in his voice deepened the shame in both the brothers, the two looking at one another before Lo'ak finally spoke up, "She wanted to stay here at the camp, but I insisted on flying. Everything happened at the Tree of Souls. She connected to it and then something happened. She stopped responding and then the soldiers came and then...they took Spider,” Lo'ak kept his eyes on his father, the guilt in his eyes evident in their glint, “I’m sorry sir.”

Jake and Neytiri looked at one another worriedly. Then, taking Kiri and Tuk's hands, she walked away with them, ushering calm words of reassurance to abate their cries.

Knowing the truth, Jake could feel his gut turn as his anger mixed with a feeling of unsettlement. Jake glanced at you for a moment before his eyes went back to Lo’ak, “I'm taking y/n to your grandma. Until she wakes up, I don't want you anywhere near her. Now go attend to the ikran.” His eyes went to Neteyam, “Both of you.”

“But Dad, let me–”

“You’ve done enough.”

Lo'ak stepped backward suddenly as the sting of his father's words lashed at him.

Jake expected retaliation, expected the usual defiance from his youngest son, but instead Lo'ak kept his head down, his shame evident. He lingered for only a second more before walking away in the direction of Mo'at's tent.

"Why can't you just listen, little bro?" Neteyam placed what was meant to be a comforting hand on Lo'ak's shoulder, but Lo'ak only swatted it away.

"How can I wait around until she wakes up? With how she is now, that could be hours," He paused, his eyes widening in slight panic, "Or days!"

"Calm down, bro. Grandma will know how to heal her. For now, the best that you can do for her is follow Dad's orders. Come on, we have to see to the ikran."

"Bro, no. It's my fault that this happened to her. I have to make sure she's okay." Lo'ak defied, already walking backwards toward the tent.

Neteyam couldn't believe what he was hearing. Turning to face his ikran, he teased Lo'ak loudly, "Wow! My baby brother is actually taking responsibility for his actions! That crush of his has made him less of a skxawng than usual."

Lo'ak heard him from a distance, halting then turning on his heels, "You're just asking to get beat up. You know that?"

"It would be entertaining to see you try. As if you would even stand a chance against the mighty warrior that I am," Neteyam crossed his arms, proud of his retort as his lips curled upwards into a broad, smug smile.

"You know what, I'm actually going to wait until after y/n wakes up, so she can watch me pummel you," Lo'ak punched his fist into his other palm with a satisfied smirk, "It'll make my victory over you even sweeter."

Nodding, Neteyam took the opportunity to get under Lo'ak's skin, faking a serious tone as he stepped away from the ikrans, "That's a good idea actually. I should definitely come with you to check on y/n."

"Woah, woah, woah," Lo'ak blocked Neteyam's path, standing earnestly in front of him with his hand out, "We don't need a third wheel right now, thank you very much."

Lowering his little brother's hand, he cocked his head to the side, amused as he let out a chuckle, "I cannot believe how jealous you get Lo'ak, really it's a marvel to see."

Lo'ak cleared his throat, "Jealous? Of you? The "mighty" warrior? You wish," Setting his gaze on the ikrans behind them, he rationalized his behavior, "And besides, bro you've got your work cut out for you. I admit being responsible is a page I took out of your book today, but you can have the page back, alright? If you come too, who's gonna do what Dad told us to do?"

"Of course, of course, what he told us to do, I will go and do it." Neteyam rolled his eyes, "But what are you going to do when Dad sees you?"

"Have you met me bro?" Lo'ak let a breath out, confidently patting his chest with his right hand, "He won't see me."

Leaving Neteyam without another word, Lo'ak turned and began to stealthily maneuver his way through the camp. While the forefront of his thoughts focused on wondering if you were alright, the back of his mind was playing his brother's words on a loop.

Neteyam was right.

It wasn't like him to act this way. Wherever Lo'ak was so was trouble, and he had grown used to trying to save his own ass with any excuse he could think of.

But this time was different. It wasn't about him. It was about you.

Back at the Tree of Souls, he couldn't let his emotions get the best of him, too focused on getting you to safety. The first shade of horrified panic when you didn't wake up, the fear that ran through him when he was dodging bullets and holding your body, the urgency he was chasing to get you back to base— now, everything he suppressed, he felt all at once. And veiling it all was that persistent effect you've had on him since the day you met. He knew he liked you. He just never realized how much.

-

Jake was holding back his tears as he carried you, whispering, "Everything's going to be fine, y/n."

It was like you were dying in his arms all over again. Your pulse was weak, your skin pale as he laid you down gently in front of Mo'at. She had already sensed the disturbance near the Tree of Souls, her herbs already prepared beside her as she took your face into her hands.

"Will she live, Mo'at?" Jake asked, and as he said those words, it took him back to the day when he first asked you to save her.

"She is merely unconscious. You forget, Toruk Makto, what I told you all those years ago about y/n. The Great Mother still holds her in Her heart. She is not gone from us forever. Her soul has truly been reborn and she has finally connected with the Great Mother."

Jake furrowed his eyebrows, blinking at her as his eyes urged for her to continue.

She placed the herb paste from the palm of your hands to the nape of your neck, then positioned two fingers at your temples, "When y/n was pulled away from the Great Mother, her spirit was still attached, while her body was separated too quickly. She is just now finding her way back."

Jake managed to give her a small smile, her words providing him comfort amidst the turmoil already brewing in his mind.

"I will take care of her here." Mo'at added to her daughter's reassurance, "Now go. I am certain that you have much to discuss with my daughter." She lowered her eyes at Jake, her intuition directing her.

Jake hesitated leaving you, but ultimately heeded Mo'at's request. Lo'ak, from a distance, watched as his father walked away. He hurried over to you, and as if Jake knew he was there, he turned around abruptly, prompting Lo'ak to dive to the ground as he ducked behind a crate of boxes. Squinting and seeing nothing, Jake turned his head forward, making his way to Neytiri.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Lo'ak got up, walking over calmly. When he got there, Mo'at was rubbing your temples, her words to the Great Mother echoing through the tent as she guided your spirit back to your body. He stepped in as quietly as possible, but even with her eyes closed, Mo'at was aware of his presence, lifting her right hand to motion him closer as she continued to speak her prayers to the Great Mother. Lo'ak knelt down beside you, crossing his legs underneath him, his gaze strictly fixated on you.

You could hear Mo'at's voice like a murmur at first, then it felt like a shout from the distance. Feeling as if you were floating in a body of water, you were carried by your own consciousness, your senses all coming back to you slowly.

The void you were in was no longer dark nothingness as her voice called to you, signs of life materializing as flecks of light became visible to you and sensations became known to you again. Light continued to shimmer in front of you and around that light were the spirits of the Great Mother, wispy as they cascaded up and down. Within yourself, you felt tingly and looking down, you watched as your body went from a transparent white to your familiar blue skin.

Outstretching your hands, the Great Mother’s spirits made their way to you, the light behind them becoming bigger and bigger. They surrounded you from head to toe, and beyond was Mo’at’s voice. As you focused on it, it amplified, becoming louder and louder until it felt like she was right beside you, her words clapping at you like thunder as your eyes shot open and your body instantly arose.

Lo'ak leaned forward, his happy relief evident as he called out to you smiling, "Y/n! You're okay, you're ok—." You punched him square in the jaw sending him backwards, your body instinctively in defensive mode, as you awoke, your breathing sporadic as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings.

"Damn!" Lo'ak howled, his hand rubbing at his jaw.

When you realized it was him that you punched, you lifted yourself from your seated position, apologetic as you sat on your knees and taking his face into your hands, you uttered aloud, "I've gotta stop doing this to you."

Lo'ak huffed, letting out a chuckle as he looked up at you, enamor expressed in the way his eyes softened, "I welcome any touch of yours, y/n, even if it does give me a bruise."

"You're ridiculous," You let go of his face, smacking him on the arm before leaning back, your palms resting on the ground.

He rubbed his arm, leaning forward, "Or two."

Behind you, Lo'ak peered over at his grandma, who gave him an encouraging nod, her lips pursed together in a proud grin, "It is comforting to know that even in dire straits, your affections do not wain."

Turning your head, you blinked at her, cheeks flushing. She merely met you with an innocent smile, outstretching her hands to the two of you"Now, come make yourself useful, my grandson. I must change y/n's dressing for her shoulder."

Spinning your body, you sat with your legs crossed in front of her, and from behind Lo'ak knelt down, gently taking off the wrapping.

Wringing out water from the basin beside her, she handed it to Lo'ak, "Wipe the dried blood," Then, getting up from her seated position, she went to her table, gathering another array of herbs to put onto your wound.

"Sorry if this stings," Lo'ak warned before he began to dab the blood.

He was working so delicately, so careful not to hurt you that you put a hand over his, reassuring him, "I'm not a baby, Lo'ak. You don't have to be so gentle."

Guiding his hands, you helped him as you dug into your skin a little harsher, more blood coming off and transferring to the cloth. At your touch, Lo'ak maintained a cool composure on the outside, but he was fighting his nerves on the inside, the flush on your cheeks suddenly matching the flush that began to take its place on his.

"You know, I really am glad you're okay." His eyes went downcast, knowing that what he was about to say next would shatter the bubble of comfort you were easing into, "But, something happened at the Tree of Souls and you're not gonna like it."

Halting your movement, you put your hand down and Lo'ak retreated his own hand, placing the cloth back in the basin, "What happened Lo'ak?"

With a heavy heart, he explained, "Your regiment, they came, guns blazing. I had to get you out of there. I thought you were dying. He let a breath out, "We were flying through the forest as they were chasing us and Spider...he fell off Kiri's ikran and they took him."

Your heart dropped, mouth agape and your eyes instantly sullen, "What?"

"I'm sorry, y/n." It was all Lo'ak could say as you put your head in your hands, your mind spiraling.

This changed everything.

Your breathing became rapid as you wondered what they could be doing to him. It was obvious why they took him. They needed intel and he was the perfect captive. He was close to Jake. He knew his whole operation. He could lead them right to the base. Then you thought of your father, dread filling you as you could only imagine what he would do when he found out that Spider was his son.

Your first instinct was to get up, to fly out of the base, and save your brother, "I need to—"

Mo'at looked over, the disturbance she sensed in your heart, begging her to interject. But, Lo'ak had already gotten up with you, ready to chase after you and catching your hand before you stopped yourself, staring ahead, your eyebrows furrowed.

You felt a jab in your heart as the truth pricked at you. It was futile. You knew all too well that Jake would follow you there, and naturally so would Neytiri and the kids. Saving your brother meant a death sentence for the Sullys, and as painful as that choice was, it just wasn't a risk you were willing to take.

You sat back down and Lo'ak followed your movements, keeping his hand in yours, hoping that you felt comforted by his gesture. When he squeezed your hand, you finally looked down, pulled from your blank stare. You met his eyes, clear concern etched in the way his forehead wrinkled and his lips turned downward into a frown.

Shaking your head, you feigned not being worried, managing a smile, "Don't look at me like that. I'm okay, I promise." You sighed, "Spider's a strong kid. I know he'll be okay."

He tilted his head at you, not believing a word you were saying as he tapped your forehead lightly with two fingers, "Come on y/n, what's going on in that pretty head of yours, hmm?"

As if to comfort you, Grace's voice within your mind drowned out your worries, her consolation from your visit at the Tree of Souls echoing in your mind,

"I know you’ll defeat your father, but while you’re here, the Great Mother wants you to live freely. It’s the only way you’ll be able to fulfill your purpose."

Mo'at, with the array of herbs in a bowl handed them to Lo'ak. Unwillingly, he let go of your hand, taking it and following her instructions as she said, "Rub this into her wound in circular motions."

Kneeling down, she sat on her knees, preparing a fresh new bandage for you. You turned to your side to look at her and she met your eyes. She remained silent, but as she gazed upon you, it spoke volumes, her chasmic sense of wisdom radiating as she interpreted the spiritual halo that made itself known to her.

In the distance, you could hear your name being echoed from outside, your ears twitching at the sound, and following it came a set of footsteps nearing and nearing.

It was Tuk, running as fast as she could once she had spotted your upright figure from where she was walking with Kiri.

"Kiri! She's okay, she's okay! Look!" Her excitement bubbled through the innocence in her voice as she dragged her sister forward.

Pivoting, Lo'ak lifted his hands from your shoulder as you were met by Tuk's embrace, "Aw Tuk."

"Easy there Tuk," Kiri warned, putting a hand on your back, "Y/n's just woken up."

Kiri peered over at Lo'ak, his hand still in the bowl and scoffing, she inspected his work, squinting, "Did you—" She stopped herself, snatching the bowl from his hands.

"Hey! I was kind of in the middle of something here," Lo'ak protested, but she didn't seem to care as she retorted sarcastically "Right, and you were doing such a great job, skxawng—Move," She pushed her brother out of the way, "You should have used yanna bark sap at this stage of healing."

Mo'at raised an eyebrow at her granddaughter, impressed but slightly offended, "Oh really? And who is Tsahik?"

"You are, grandmother. But, yanna bark is better. It stings less."

Tuk sat in your lap as Kiri took over, and peering over at Lo'ak, his arms crossed, a scowl on his face, you spoke, unable to contain your laughter as memories with Grace and Jake resurfaced, "You know, the two of you remind me of your parents sometimes."

Kiri's eyes brightened hearing her mother's name, "Really? I thought that they were always friends."

Lo'ak, curious as well, perked up too, eager to learn about his father's life before the life he had now. And even Tuk listened, her eyes on you.

You nodded, "Not at first. Your dad and I had no problem being friends. We were inseparable since the day we met. But, your mom needed a little more convincing." You paused, the memory so vivid in your mind that you saw it right in front of you, "I remember how they finally became friends."

You recounted the story as if it had happened yesterday.

You were at Site 26, eating at the table of the small kitchen, Grace beside you, her usual cigarette in her mouth.

He had wheeled himself in there, a plate already ready for him as Grace urged him to sit down, "Bon appetit, Marine."

"If you're feeling extra hungry, I'm more than willing to share," You joked, picking up your fork and pretending to feed him, "Say ahh!"

He swatted your hand away with a scowl, recoiling at the smell, "You know, today I made a kill and we ate it. At least, I know where that meal came from."

He attempted to wheel himself away, but Grace protested, "Oh no you don't. As your boss, I'm telling you to take some down time. That was your other body. You need to take care of this body."

Groaning, he nodded and you took it upon yourself to put it in the microwave for him, "Don't worry about getting up, old man. I got this for you."

He sneered at you, scoffing, "You're lucky that you're younger than me, kids meal. It's not in me to fight a baby like you."

You slammed the microwave door shut, "Ha. ha. Are you sure you can even fight at all? Your aim is shot. I went to the bathroom after you and there was piss all over the seat. I think you should get your cataracts checked."

Grace let out a boisterous laugh, taking a drag out of her cigarette, "I'll kick both of your asses if you don't reel it in. Y/n, baby girl, give the man his food please. He looks like crap."

Taking it out of the microwave, you set it in front of him, taking a seat beside him as you pointed, "It's already in pieces so you won't have a hard time taking your dentures out later."

"Thanks y/n. You're so thoughtful." Jake replied sarcastically, spooning some of it in his mouth.

As he chewed, the taste unbearable, he looked around for a distraction, his eyes fixating on the pictures in front of him. Filing through them, he held one up recognizing the setting, his tone serious as he turned to Grace.

One of his first excursions with his avatar was to visit Grace's old school. Ten years of her life she put into teaching the Na'vi about Earth, just for it to become a cursed piece of history. He couldn't forget the bullet holes that adorned the walls, his curiosity getting the best of him as he held the picture up to Grace, "What did happen at the school, Grace?"

Your expression darkened, sadness overwhelming your heart as Grace took her cigarette out of her mouth, her voice cracking as she explained, "Sylwanin, Neytiri's older sister stopped coming to the school. She was angry about the bulldozers. When her and a couple warriors set one on fire, they came to the school, the RDA right on their trail. She thought that I could protect them, then they killed her right in front of Neytiri. Then, after, they never came back. I got most of the kids out, but that kind of pain," She sniffled, fighting back tears, "It reaches back through the link."

Jake could only listen, understanding dawning on him. She sighed, reclaiming a stern, distant stance as she shook her head, getting up. "Not that you would understand that feeling, right Marine? You're used to doing the killing."

Jake put his head down, shame befalling him and wanting to relieve the tension you called out to her, "Wait, Grace!"

"Don't." Jake said to you, his hand still holding the picture, scorn touching his heart, "You know better than anyone that she isn't wrong. We follow orders. It's what we do."

You tilted your head at him, taking the picture out of his hand, "Then prove her wrong, Jake. Convince Eytukan to let her back into the village. Those kids meant everything to her. And I'm sure they miss her too."

Jake mulled over your words, pursing his lips, "You know, that's not a bad idea actually," He roughed up your hair, "Thanks kid. I'll make it happen. I promise."

Within a week, Grace was back in the village, to her delighted surprise.

You waited for her to come back, leaning against the window near her pod. When she finally got out, she was smiling from ear to ear.

Lowering her eyes, she questioned you, "What?"

You nudged her with your elbow. "Not bad for a Marine, huh?"

She shook her head, in disbelief, "I should have known you put him up to this. This had you," She put a hand up in front of you, tracing your outline as she continued, "Written all over it."

"But he did it, didn't he?" You argued, and she fell silent, rolling her eyes at you.

"Look, Jake's always going to be that Marine at heart, but give him a chance. You gave me one." You coaxed her, taking her hand into yours.

"Alright, alright Miss Marine," She sighed again, but you could tell she was happy, "Jake Sully and I as friends, who would have thought."

Hearing her oldest daughter's name, Mo'at could feel a twinge in her heart, but she was gratified to know that you remembered her. Kiri looked upon you with gratefulness as well, the story connecting her more with a past that she had always craved to know. Lo'ak, on the other hand, felt shocked, the Jake you knew so contrasting to the strict father he had grown up with.

"I spoke to her, your mother," You looked at Kiri, "At the Tree of Souls."

Kiri widened her eyes, urging for you to continue as she listened intently. Mo'at shared the same eagerness, and having already taken the time to interpret the will of the Great Mother when the thought first arose, she knew that Grace's message would reveal the final piece she needed to help you.

"She knows that I'll defeat my father. But, she didn't tell me how, only that the Great Mother wanted me to live freely. Only then, will I be able to fulfill my purpose." Each word was a puzzle perplexing you and you looked at Mo'at, desperate to know what she thought.

Mo'at took a moment to think, her eyes closed as her voice weaved through the subtle breeze that entered through the tent. When she had found the words to say, she spoke them with conviction.

"Life is about balance, y/n. To be too much of one thing and not enough of another can lead us on a lost path. Do not mistake surviving for living."

You took her words in, absorbing what she was saying. You knew what she was trying to tell you and you chuckled appreciatively, but still you continued to question her, curious and concerned, "What does that have to do with my purpose?"

"The Great Mother has spoken her wishes for you. Do not burden yourself with finding your purpose, for it is not meant to burden you at all. There are many things in this new life, many people," She glanced over at Lo'ak for a moment before her eyes set upon you again, "that can still bring you joy even when there is uncertainty."

Lo'ak looked at you instantly, heart on his sleeve as a grin took over his face, hoping that you would meet his eyes, but you only maintained eye contact before averting your eyes, shyness washing over you as you nodded timidly.

Kiri went back and forth between her brother and you, wholly entertained. Putting a hand on yours, "I'm happy that you were able to connect with my mother again. It is good news for this day."

There was a pain behind her eyes and discerning it, you squeezed her hand, "I'm sorry about Spider."

It meant a lot for you to acknowledge that ache she was so desperately trying to hide as she replied, "Thank you. Now, let's finish wrapping your shoulder."

Mo'at handed her granddaughter the bandage and taking it, Kiri skillfully bound your wound, tying it tightly then patting your shoulder, "There. All done."

"Thank you. To all of you." You acknowledged, and letting Tuk off your lap, you stood up, "Now, I have to go talk your dad."

"I'm coming with you," Lo'ak said immediately, getting up and kissing his grandma on the cheek before following you out.

The two girls were close behind, bidding their grandma farewell with a wave as they trailed behind Lo'ak.

From a distance, you already saw Jake and Neytiri in their tent, and although you were far, you could tell they were arguing.

Turning around, you put a hand on Lo'ak's chest, "Maybe you guys should stay behind."

He looked at Kiri and Tuk behind him and reluctantly, he replied, "Okay."

You squinted your eyes at him, expecting his protests, but he remained calm. "Okay...good."

Turning on your heels, you kept going and it wasn't long before you heard their footsteps behind you again. Whipping your head around, you caught Lo'ak mid-walk and not expecting it, he almost ran into you, his hands going to your waist as he avoided crashing forward.

Dangerously close, he kept his eyes locked on you, your expression clearly frustrated, "I'm being serious, Lo'ak. I'm not going to tell you again."

You ignored how his hands felt on your waist, the feeling stirring butterflies in your stomach. Gently taking his wrists, you peeled his hands off.

In surrender, he put his hands up, backing away, "Fine, fine. We're planted, okay? On my honor."

You smiled at him, "Thank you."

When you got to the entrance, you leaned onto the side of it.

So engrossed in their argument, they didn't notice you, Jake's hands in fists as he let out, "We have to leave the Forest."

Neytiri shook her head, her voice forceful and strained, "You cannot ask this. We cannot leave our People. This is our home!"

You cleared your throat, announcing your presence, Neytiri halitng her words immediately as her eyes went to you.

Jake did the same, his expression once distressed and defeated, now illuminated with relief.

"Y/n!" He ran, hugging you, his voice cracking, "Don't ever scare me like that again."

You patted him on the back, whispering, "You old sap. Sorry for scaring you."

Your head rested on Jake's shoulder and you made eye contat with Neytiri. She couldn't hide her emotions, her hands on her head as she looked at you, her eyes pleading as she began to say, "Tell him, y/n that he cannot do this, that there is a way to defeat your demon father from here."

You fell silent, letting go of Jake, unsure of what to say. You and Jake exchanged looks, the two of you in sync.

A father protects. It's what gives him meaning.

You taught him that.

He was Toruk Makto, the leader of the Omaticaya, their protector, their peacekeeper. But, he was also Jake Sully, a father and a husband. Quaritch made him and his family walking targets among The People who never asked to be part of a feud whose end was supposed to be in the Hallelujah Mountains. Jake knew very well how unbearable it is to live with innocent blood on your hands, and he just couldn't bear for the Omaticaya to become collateral damage.

You both knew what had to be done, and there was only one way he could protect everyone, to do his duty, to make sure that no one he loved would get hurt because of him.

Neytiri, in her desperation, picked up her father's bow from where it was being displayed in the tent, "My father gave me this bow as he lay dying," Her voice cracked as she continued, "And he said protect The People. You're Toruk Makto!"

You hated to be on Jake's side this time, but he was right, "Neytiri, he had your children under his knife and now that he has Spider..."

You stopped yourself for a moment, not wanting to admit your fears as you looked away from them both, "He's going to come with everything he's got and he's not gonna stop."

You turned toward Jake and Neytiri again, taking her hand in yours, your heart heavy, "I know you don't want to leave, but you have to understand. If the People harbor us, they will die."

"This will protect The People." Jake put a hand on your shoulder and a hand on Neytiri's face, cupping it gently," Look, I got nothing. I got no plan. But I can protect this family. That I can do."

Sniffling and a wail of cries erupted from outside of the tent and through an opening, you saw the movement of a blue tail. The sound caused Neytiri's ears to twitch, instantly recognizing her child's cries as she uttered, "Tuk?"

Revealing themselves, the kids slowly, one by one, made their way in, and to your surprise, Neteyam had joined them, being the last to walk through the entrance.

"Do we really have to leave here?" Tuk asked, her face stained with tears as she held onto her sister.

Jake and Neytiri didn't know what to say, caught off guard by their children's sudden appearance. Jake was about to walk over to her, but you beat him to it, kneeling down beside her, "You remember what I told you when that man took you in the Mountains? About your dad?"

She nodded, "That he was one of the Sky People, that only he knows how to stop them."

You smiled at her, "Smart girl," You tried your best to hide the heaviness behind your eyes as you reassured her, "Your dad is just doing what he knows best," You looked up at the other Sully kids, hoping that you were giving them at least a semblance of comfort with your words, "Protecting what he loves."

She seemed to understand, pressing her lips together as she nodded. Letting go of her sister's hands, she ran to Jake and he carried her, rubbing her back. Neytiri motioned for the rest of the kids to come and they did, all of them falling in as they hugged one another.

You kept yourself at a distance, looking at them as they embraced one another, your heart breaking. And again, you were reminded what you were brought back to Pandora for—the dread, the pain, the anguish that your regiment was tasked to do. Your mere existence was already causing ruins to Jake and the people he loved the most.

You walked out of the tent, hoping they wouldn't notice you had gone. But, Jake had seen you go, and in his worry, he put Tuk down, following you.

It didn't matter how many times Jake called your name, you didn't respond, buried in your thoughts as you quickly walked through the base.

Despite how much you wanted to live freely like Grace had told you, no matter how much you felt the pull of life, the weight of death was strong, and until you could lift it, you just couldn't welcome a renewed sense of being.

Because here you were, your identity and your destiny still attached to a mission that served the vengeance of what was meant to be dead. You didn't feel like you could move on from that, not until everything was over, not until you did everything you could to protect Jake and his family.

That was the promise you made to yourself when you first awoke and you would keep it. No matter what it took.

The People, you saw, were living, thriving in their homes. Jake had ensured their livelihoods, ensured their safety, and maintained their peace. It was meant to be a comforting sight, but you were only met with sadness in your heart. The words you once told Jake all those years ago, you never realized how much he lived by it until now.

Somehow, you had made it far enough to where the scientists were staying and seeing you, Norm and Max ran over, appearing in front of you.

You finally stopped, pulled from your thoughts as you greeted them, "Oh, hey guys."

"What's wrong?" Norm asked, although he could already guess why you looked so down.

Jake had already broken the news to them earlier, offering a sympathetic hand when you replied, "Haven't you heard? We're getting out of Dodge. Per usual, my dad's done what he does best."

You sat down near the steps of their lab, resting your palms on the sides of your face as your elbows were propped onto your knees, You let out a soft chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood with a joke, "I've got a lot of overdue samples to look at."

That earned a laugh from the two of them, Max replying, "If you weren't like 9 feet tall, I'd definitely let you take a look."

Norm pulled out his tablet, scrolling through countless video logs until he found the one he was looking for, "Hey, I was looking through these the other day and look what I stumbled upon."

He handed you the tablet, and pressing the play button, you watched.

"Y/n. Geez, I've been chasing you down this whole..." You looked up to find Jake walking over with a troubled expression, his words stopping as his eyes made their way down to the tablet, the sight of himself, you, and Grace silencing him.

"Jake Sully here. This is video log..."

You were behind him, hunched over beside Grace with a syringe in your hand, "Twenty-seven. Video log twenty-seven."

"Hey, is this my video log or yours?" He retorted.

"You're the one who couldn't remember the number." You muttered, smiling to yourself.

"Anyway, video log twenty-seven. Learning to ride an ikran. We call them banshees. It's the test every young hunter has to pass. But to do that you gotta go where the banshees are."

"Oo-rah." You chimed in.

Jake turned around again, clearing his throat, and you groaned, "Sorry."

"Man, taming that thing was a bitch. But, when I finally made the bond and I was in the air...Anyway, I may not be much of a horse guy, but riding an ikran? I was born to do that."

"You lucky bastard." You muttered again, taking your eyes out of the microscope when Grace pinched you.

"Stop interrupting. You're distracting him. You know his brain can't handle too much."

Jake scowled, "You can kiss my lily white as—"

"Hey, I'm just saying, if I had my own avatar...I'd never be on the ground."

Watching that only deepened your sadness, and you handed Norm his tablet back, your wish of having your own ikran a pipe dream now that you were leaving the Forest.

Norm, still unaware of the news, looked over at Jake, nudging him, "Might have taken twenty years but, it's still not too late for y/n to have one!"

Jake deliberated it, recognizing your dejection in the way you avoided his eyes. And although in the wake of his decision, it seemed like an impulsive idea, he conceded, "You're right."

In your shock, you finally looked at Jake, taking your hand away from your jaw as your mouth hung open, "Seriously? I thought for sure you would hate the idea of me even stepping outside of camp."

"Well, you're one of the People, aren't you? And besides, "He got up, motioning for you to do the same. Attempting to lighten the mood, he shrugged, "I really didn't want to have to push you in a stroller when we leave here."

You put a hand on the top of your head, allowing your laughter to permeate through the melancholy that felt like it was taking over your body, "You're gonna end up back in that wheelchair real soon. Just you wait."

Jake retaliated affectionately, "It must be tiring being such a pain in the ass."

You waved goodbye to Norm and Max, Jake waiting for you as you caught up to him, "You must be exhausted then."

Jake pulled you in by the shoulder, guiding you forward, "Come on, kids meal, we have one more stop before I take you to Oo-rah."

You returned to the tent, your arrival prompting the Sullys to look up from their separate activities. They were all seated on the floor beside each other. Neteyam acknowledged you with a nod as he was putting a new string on his bow. Kiri was weaving something together, focusing as she looped tiny beads onto a string. Neytiri was with Tuk, the youngest Sully comfortably seated in her lap as she prepared a midday snack. And Lo’ak was only distracting himself as he sharpened his knife over and over, awaiting your return eagerly.

Neytiri arose from her seated position, looking at her husband expectantly, "Ma Jake, what is going on?"

Jake pinched your ear, earning a scowl from you, "We've got somewhere to go."

They all got up hearing Jake, the siblings tilting their heads as they exchanged looks between one another.

The six of you walked toward the edge of the camp. Lo'ak taking his place beside you. "You really want your own ikran? I thought for sure you preferred riding with me." He flirtatiously joked.

"I never said I didn't." You replied rather quickly, catching onto his flirtations, your swift response causing an instant blush to appear on his cheeks.

"I just was really looking forward to racing you on one. Plus," You paused, "I'd definitely win." You feigned a cough to slightly mask your words, a smile erupting on your face as you watched his reaction turn sour.

"You really think you'd win against me? No chance." Lo'ak scoffed cockily, crossing his arms as he raised an eyebrow at you.

"Even Tuk could beat you, bro." Neteyam interjected, overhearing the conversation, letting out a laugh as his sister stuck her tongue out at Lo'ak.

"You're mistaking me for you, bro. You must have forgotten the last time we raced, I left you in the dust." Lo'ak replied, cavalier and confident.

"You cheated that time, and you know it." Neteyam pointed at him sternly.

Lo'ak leaned into you, whispering in your ear, "Think of the slowest animal to ever exist.. that's how slow Neteyam is compared to me."

His taunts amused you, and although Neteyam didn't think his remarks were funny, you couldn't help but laugh, remembering your old pilot days with Trudy.

Lo'ak's lips curled into a smile, pride bubbling in his stomach for making you laugh. You all stopped when you reached the edge of the camp, craning your neck, your eyes gaped at the myriad of clouds covering the blue sky, slowly setting into sunset. Scattered through the air were the floating rocks of the mountains, vast and many in the distance.

With each call, the Sullys' ikrans came, landing on the rocks and taking hold with their talons, screeching loudly as a greeting.

Lo'ak patted his ikran's head affectionately, connecting his queue to his. Cautiously, you put a hand out, but your guardedness was unnecessary as his ikran felt Lo'ak's fondness of you, moving his head forward to meet your hand.

You were surprised by the gesture, smiling.

"He likes you," Lo'ak remarked.

"He's not the only one," Neteyam fake coughed, aiming to embarrass his brother, a satisfied smirk plastered on his face as he mounted his ikran.

Lo'ak clapped in fake enthusiasm then flipped his brother off with both hands.

Jake, who heard the commotion looked over, ready to scold his youngest son. Seeing the look in Jake's eyes, you put Lo'ak's fingers down, pushing him forward toward his ikran, "Just get on, won't you?"

He obeyed your orders, taking a seat on the saddle then offering a hand to you, "You better hold on tight. You know I like to ride fast." He glared at Neteyam, "Unlike some people we know."

"Stop trying to impress y/n with your lies." Neteyam replied, putting his visor on.

You moved Lo'ak's hand over, lifting yourself up onto his ikran. You were almost fully seated when Jake pulled your arm back down, the abruptness almost making you lose balance as your feet landed on the ground.

"What the hell—" You yelped, blinking up at Jake.

"You ride with me." He still held onto your arm, practically dragging you until you flicked his forehead hard in response.

"Ow!" He let go of you, placing his fingers where you had hit him, "Last time you flew with my son, you came back unconscious. I just don't want to take any chances." Jake explained sternly.

You squinted at him, "No, that vein sticking out of your forehead is telling me there's more to it."

Jake looked up, his fists balled as he sucked in a breath through his teeth, "Y/n—"

You put a hand up though shushing him, your expression determined as you defended Lo'ak, "Last time I flew with your son, he got me back here. Safely. So, cut Lo'ak some slack and have a little more faith."

Jake let a breath out, looking up, clearly contemplating and frustrated by your protests. Neytiri though, was having none of it, clearing her throat and prompting his attention, "Ma Jake." Neytiri lowered her eyes at her husband, "She will ride with Lo'ak. Now, let's go before the sun fully sets."

Groaning, Jake nodded, returning back to his ikran but not before he gave Lo'ak one final warning look, which Lo'ak reluctantly acknowledged with a nod.

Again, you lifted yourself onto his ikran, stabilizing yourself as you sat comfortably in front of him. He was unusually quiet with no flirtatious rally to tell you, causing you to look at him from behind.

He felt shy under your gaze but, he masked it immediately, smirking at you like he usually did, "Ready?"

"More than ever." You said, taking hold of the handles on the saddle.

Following Jake out, one by one, the sound of wings' flapping filled your ears and then you were into the sky, the wind dancing through your hair. You ascended upward, the flight to Oo-rah not too long as Lo'ak sped through the air.

For some reason, you were bothered that Lo'ak had no comment to make after you defended him, the silence between the two of you for the first ride deafening.

You looked back at him, catching his eye briefly before turning around, yelling over the wind, "I didn't have to defend you like that, you know."

Lo'ak didn't speak for a moment, leaning forward as he tried to decipher your expression. You looked at him from the side, your irritation making itself known in the glare you gave him.

When he realized how bothered you were, he felt exhilarated at having stirred some kind of reaction from you, a stark difference from your usual tendency to brush him off.

He finally replied to you, making sure his face was dangerously close to yours, "So, why'd you do it?"

He could have guessed your reasons very easily, feeling he had come to know you well enough. It was intensely you to put Jake in his place the way you did—he had seen you do it before. Not to mention, he thought the world of you, your moral compass irrefutable and your heart kind.

But, he just couldn't help but ask anyway, fishing for a specific answer as he hoped he could get you to admit your feelings.

You didn't say anything, trying to find the words to explain your reasons. It didn't help that you could feel Lo'ak's chest behind your back and his breath on your neck, the proximity making you nervous, like you were being studied under a microscope.

You cleared your throat, avoiding his eyes as you looked onward, "Because we're friends."

Lo'ak leaned backwards then accelerated without warning, dipping underneath one of the floating rocks, the movement forcing your grip on the left handle loose. Immediately, Lo'ak let go of one of the handles, cradling you diligently, his hold on you firm as gravity took over, your head now abruptly resting in the crevice between his neck and shoulder. Instinctively, you placed your hands on his arms, clasping onto him to regain your stability.

He beamed at you coyly, smug as he smoothly said, "Just friends?"

You knew you were bright red, the cold of the wind barely able to cool the heat on your face as you lightly touched your cheeks. You were completely flustered, but that didn't change that you were still irritated with him, "If this is your way of saying thank you, you're doing a shit job."

Oo-rah was just up ahead, Jake already landing on the cave's edge near the clearing of the ikran's lair, everyone else following behind him in a line formation.

"And how would you like me to show my gratitude? I can think of a lot of ways." Lo'ak emphasized, moving his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

You both hopped off his ikran and you turned to Lo'ak who was eager to hear your response.

You shoved his face away from yours, responding sarcastically, "Oh fuck off."

"No, you'd miss me." He placed his hand where yours had been, unable to contain the huge grin he had.

You walked over to Jake, and he threw something at you, "Tie the mouth with this first. You’ll know which one is yours because—“

“I know, I know. It’ll try to kill me.” You interrupted, looking down at what you caught.

It was a piece of twine with a ball of rope at the end of it. You practiced spinning it around before walking the cliff's edge, the hoard of ikrans seemingly greeting you with their cries and screeches.

As you continued to step forward, most of the ikrans avoided your eyes, not caring too much about your presence. Then, above, the loud flapping of wings caught your attention, your eyes following the descent of a teal and pink colored ikran. She hissed at you loudly, meeting your eyes with viciousness, and you met hers back with an equal viciousness of your own. You waited for the opportune moment to strike and when you felt that in your gut, you acted with utmost swiftness. 

You could hear the Sullys cheering for you from behind as you tied her mouth, stunning her momentarily. You quickly hopped on her back, wrapping your arm around her neck, gripping for your life as she thrashed against it. Inching closer and closer to the cliff, your heart was pumping with so much adrenaline as you attempted to grab her queue, and in the midst of that, she threw both of you off the cliff.

You could barely hear everyone yell your name in fear and worry as you fell, spinning as gravity pulled you downward ruthlessly. The air become another adversary, threatening to plummet you to your doom, but you only tightened your grip on her queue while reaching behind for your own, your eyes focusing despite how quickly you were falling. 

When you had reached that precipice, Lo’ak wasted no time following after you, jumping off the cliff as he called his ikran. He readied himself to catch you, but there was no need as he watched you finally make the bond. You straightened yourself on your ikran’s back, catching your breath as you felt her own, completely in tune as you commanded her to fly straight.

The Sullys were not far behind you, taking to the air with impossible quickness the moment you fell off the cliff.

You spun around to meet them, their whoops and cheers uplifting you. You bowed your head, taking the praise, and Jake neared you, worry still etched on his face, but his pride taking over as he grinned at you from ear to ear, "I told you not to scare me like that."

"I definitely beat your record." You flipped your hair with pride, laughing as he scowled.

"Like hell you did." Jake flew slightly forward, purposefully making you dodge his ikran's wings, the movement sending you backward slightly.

You gasped in offense, moving forward to do the same thing to him, but more aggressively as he dove downward to avoid you.

You tilted your head backward, laughing loudly at his stunned reaction. Neytiri joined in on the laughter as well, putting a hand to her mouth, so happy to see the two of you flying together at last. It was a sight she never thought that she would see, and she bubbled with joy seeing her husband so happy to be with you—his best friend.

"Alright, old man," You began, and looking to the sides, you called out, "Neteyam, Lo'ak, you, and me, we're racing. Now, I know you're used to going below twenty miles an hour, but try to keep up okay?"

Scoffing, Jake shrugged, "You must have forgotten, y/n, but I was born to do this."

"Right, right. And that was when again? Before the time of the First Songs?" You feigned a pout at him, fake doe eyes as you retorted sarcastically.

Kiri, who was merely enjoying the scenery, snickered at your joke, recognizing your humor as she praised you, "That was funny!"

"Oh, you guys are sooo losing." Lo'ak yelled out confidently.

"Rules? One lap back to the base and the first one back here wins?" Neteyam suggested.

Exchanging looks with one another, you all nodded, agreeing the terms.

"Kiri count us down!" Lo'ak insisted, and she groaned at the request but ultimately agreed.

The four of you lined up beside one another, you sandwiched between Neteyam, who was on your right, and Lo'ak on your left.

"What are you going to give me when I win?" Lo'ak asked you. indelicate in his tone.

"A kiss on the cheek." You teased, before facing forward.

"Are you being serio—" Lo'ak let out, but the sound of Kiri's loud "Go!" interrupted him.

Hearing her first syllable, you darted off, taking the lead, Neteyam and Jake close beside you, while Lo'ak slightly trailed behind, your response delaying him.

The sun was setting, the sky darkening slightly as warm hues of orange, yellow, and red took over. You dodged the floating rocks skillfully weaving your way through, your body leaning forward as you accelerated further and further.

The sight of the base was ahead, and Neteyam still matching your speed glanced over at you. You took the opportunity to dive under him when he did, your ikran vertical for a moment then flattening out as you sped forward.

You were the first to make it to the edge of the base, swiftly turning around and unexpectedly, everyone else had also caught up with you.

Jake, determined to win, flew above then downward in front of you, blocking your path and forcing you suddenly upside down.

With a new perspective, you caught sight of a shortcut, steering yourself there. Lo'ak, having known about that spot from previous races followed after you, the two of you zigzagging between each other.

The two of you were pulling ahead, with Neteyam and Jake mere inches from you both. Seeing Neytiri and Kiri, with every ounce of strength, you gained momentum with ferocity, advancing toward them. But, Lo'ak was right next to you, and smirking, he matched your speed, inching and inching forward, the last few seconds of the race suspenseful as the two of you shot forward past Neytiri and Kiri.

Reaching past the finish line, you turned around to see Neteyam and Jake crossing it. You saw Jake biting the bottom of his lip in disappointment at his defeat, granting you a satisfied grin.

"Who won? Definitely me, right?" Lo'ak yelled at his sister.

But, she had no clue, looking at her mother, who also was at a loss for words.

"No, no you're being delusional. I passed them first." You disagreed, your eyes looking for confirmation in Kiri's.

"Um, guys. I think it was a tie." Kiri replied, putting her hand at the back of her neck.

"It was y/n!" Tuk cried out from where she was seated with her mother.

"See!" You emphasized, turning to Lo'ak.

"Tuk is eight! She can barely tell the difference between a direhorse and a hexapede!" Lo'ak reasoned.

"Okay, then we're having a rematch. From here to the top of that mountain over there, toward the horizon." You pointed and his eyes followed your finger.

"I'm getting that kiss on the cheek." Lo'ak stated, and without another word, you two were off, any consideration of Jake's disapproval gone with the wind.

Neytiri caught onto Jake's worrying concern, easing it as she urged, "It is their last day in The Forest, Ma Jake. Let them enjoy it. Let y/n enjoy it, hmm? They'll come home soon enough for dinner. Let us go back."

Although he hated the idea of the two of you alone without his protection, the thought almost sending him into oblivion, he listened to Neytiri.

Flying had always been your favorite part about being a Marine, and when you had come to Pandora, you had always wanted to fly as you were now—no constrictions, no orders to obey, no mission to complete.

And after twenty years or so, you finally got to.

Through the endless Hallelujah Mountains, in and out of the entanglement of vines, and past the wispiness of the clouds, you slashed at the currents with elegant speed, surging freely in the flux. Once you came to a stopping point, landing on one of the nearby cliffs, Lo'ak's ikran hit the ground first, signaling his victory.

Yet you were too engrossed by the nature around you to realize that fact as you dismounted your ikran, eyes widened as you took it all in. The grass atop the cliff waved at you as the wind cascaded through it, and you looked out into the seemingly endless landscape, breathing in the freshness of the air and doing your best to commit the moment into your memory.

"Ahem." Lo'ak had his hands behind his back, his gaze expectant as he leaned forward, turning his cheek to you, "I think you owe me something."

“Fine, fine.” You gave in, stepping closer to him.

Leaning forward, you hovered over his cheek, about to press your lips to it, but as you did so, the dots on Lo'ak's skin began to glow, signaling the dawn of the night. Beyond, the darkening of the sky began to awaken the bioluminescene of the forest, the sun disappearing behind you and replacing it was the bright white moon.

You gasped in awed wonder, pulling away as you shifted your attention to the change of your scenery. You never got tired of the way The Forest would illuminate like this, the glow of it so vividly shimmering against the black of nightfall.

And while your eyes were busy, Lo'ak's were too, focusing on your figure as you walked away from him.

"You—"

"Shhh" You put your finger up, "I'm looking at all of this."

He grabbed onto your tail playfully, "And I'm—"

You whipped your body around to face him, defensive as you put your hands out, lunging to grab his tail in retaliation. He caught your hand as you leaped, pulling you forward.

He continued what he was saying, "And I'm looking at you."

Lo'ak paused and you could no longer distinguish the mischievous glint in his eyes as they bore into you, his affection dripping like honey.

Slowly, he continued to pull you forward, gently closing the gap between you. You did nothing to brush him off, too entranced as you took those small steps.

His hand still in yours, he tilted his head slightly, his voice soft, but firm.

"I See You."

You blinked up at him, a fog taking over your brain, your mouth open, but nothing coming out as you stood, stunned.

There was silence between the two of you, everything blurring as your vision fixated on one another. The tranquil of The Forest lent comforting warmth that blanketed the two of you, contrasting the rapid pumping of both of your hearts.

And perhaps it was because you were wrapped up in that moment, so taken by his words that you felt emboldened. Hooking your finger onto his necklace, you pulled him toward you, connecting your lips.

Lo'ak only widened his eyes in surprise for a second before he melted into you, trailing his hand up your arm as he cupped your cheek and the other took its place on your back, the gap between you closing as he deepened the kiss with tender adoration.

You allowed yourself to be in this moment with Lo'ak cherishing the suspension of reality, your mind calm, no ruminating about the purpose the Great Mother has for you, no concern of your father's revenge poisoning your thoughts, no distress found from losing your brother.

Enthralled in that freedom and peace, you felt as if you were in a dream, a good one that you would keep close to your heart.

You ghosted your fingers around his collarbone to grab onto the back of his neck, moving in rhythm with him and meeting him with the same passion before you quickly pulled away, the taste of his lips lingering on yours as you caught your breath.

Lo'ak, still in an enamored daze, lightly grazed your lips with his two fingers, a huge smile on his face, "I'm gonna expect this every time I win."

Your mind catching up with the desires of your heart, you repositioned your hands onto his shoulders, straightening your elbows to put distance between you and him.

"This was a one time thing." You clarified as you mentally scolded yourself for being so impulsive.

Furrowing his eyebrows at you, he met you with a confused expression, slight hurt lacing it, "Why?"

You patted his shoulders, sheepishly smiling, "We're friends."

"For now." Lo'ak said with a quickness.

"Lo'ak." You gave him a stern look, but you were still clearly flustered.

Lo'ak chuckled, "You kissed me!"

You had no rational comeback, spitting out whatever came to your head as you came to your own defense, stuttering, "Well, that was your fault! You were staring at me the way that you always stare at me but then you—"

"Then I what?" Lo'ak was wholly amused. He knew you liked him back, and he beamed with internal satisfaction.

Frustrated, you scratched the back of your neck, "You can't just say what you said, Lo'ak. It means something, it means everything!"

"Well, I meant it." Lo'ak shrugged casually, crossing his arms, "And I'm not taking it back."

You felt childish at this point, hesitating in pure disbelief as you let out a breath.

Uncrossing his arms and reading your expression, Lo'ak aimed to assure you, "If you want it to be a one time thing, then it's a one time thing. We're friends, of course we're friends."

You hardly believed him though, squinting at him as you tried to discern his intentions, expecting a mischievous comment.

And you were right in thinking that, Lo'ak looking up to the sky as he let his voice trail into the wind, "Even though you had nooo problem getting real close to me when we were in the air," He made eye contact with you again, "We're friends."

“We both know you did that on purpose," You warned, putting a finger up at him pointedly, "And also, you fly your ikran like you're drunk.” You scrunched your nose, playfully insulting him.

He brushed a stray hair away from your face, “I never did thank you, you know for defending me.”

You pinched his ear, causing him to wince, “Took you long enough.”

He rubbed his ear to ease the pain, “Look, I’m not the perfect soldier or the perfect son, so I’m not used to it. That’s why I didn’t know what to say at first.” Vulnerability coated his words as his hand went to the back of his neck.

“Well, you're perfect to me.” You had uttered it so nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders even, as if you had said it countless times before.

You watched his expression soften at your words, his gaze on you already shrouded with affection now decorated in adoration, his heart beating so fast he swore it was going to pop out of his chest.

Whirling around, he put his hands at his temples then extended his arms out, palms outstretched to the sky, the tips of his fingers in your view, "You say these things, and you're just begging to be kissed. I swear."

"Don't make me punch you again." You warned, balling your fists up.

"Stand down there, beautiful. I'm only joking." Lo'ak put a hand up, easing your fists down.

You sighed, "What I'm trying to say is that even though your dad is my best friend, I don't agree with everything he does. And that includes how he treats you."

Lo'ak was about to make another flirtatious joke, but you continued, "And your siblings."

He put his hands at his hips, looking down at the ground, "Had to bring them into it too, huh?" He muttered, "So romantic."

"I knew Jake when he was like you. Stubborn. Troublesome—"

"Fun?" Lo'ak added.

You chuckled, nodding, "I'm surprised he's so strict now."

"Trust me, the way he acts when you're around is more surprising. He hasn't joked like that since Neteyam, Kiri, and I were kids. But that was before the Sky People came back and started building that city."

And suddenly, the worries you had came flooding back, the harsh reality sinking its teeth into the dream that you so desperately wanted to stay in.

Yet, that was the thing about dreams.

Sooner or later, you have to wake up.

The People.

The Forest.

They would become relics to you as you once became a relic to it.

-

Everything was set by the next day, and just as quickly as you had settled into camp, you were leaving once again for a brand new horizon.

The People had gathered onto the ground to attend the ceremony of the new Olo’eyktan, but what was meant to be a joyous celebration was tainted by overwhelming loss and sadness.

Jake knew his successor, Tarsem, was wise beyond his years, that he would make a strong Olo'eyktan.

But as you looked upon Jake's face, his expression strong and stoic, you could still see the pain in his eyes.

The memories you had in your new body didn't remember the Final Battle, the day that you first saw Jake in the air on Toruk. You didn't remember it, but you knew you felt proud. It was who he was always meant to be.

The leader must die, so the leader can be born.

Toruk Makto will disappear.

The People will be safe.

With this new beginning came tearful goodbyes as the Omaticaya bid you all farewell, and you had maintained your strength until you saw Norm and Max. You couldn’t hold your tears in as you gave them both one final hug. 

Mo'at gave her final embraces before your departure, and when she finally got to you, she put her hands on your shoulders, “My child, whatever you may experience beyond this forest, the Great Mother has ordained you as one of The People. Do not forget that.” 

You gave her one last hug, “I won’t. I promise.”

You were at the edge of a cliff, vast, blue, open sea ahead of you, ikrans ready to fly. But you were hardly focused on what was ahead as you looked back at The Forest, etching and ingraining every detail of it in your mind.

Into the air, suddenly the feeling of leaving felt like true resignation, the momentary banter between you and Jake forgotten as you looked out into the open sea, seemingly endless, full of possibilities. But what was meant to be a fresh start was only cloaked with the sweeping melancholy that you and the Sullys felt inside as The Forest, the colossal trees, the lush landscape, and the presence of the aviary creatures amidst the foliage became a green mirage, smaller and smaller as you ventured further out until the sight of it could no longer be seen.

One life ends.

Another begins.

-

Author's Note

to my lovers clan,

i'm so so sorry for taking so long to give you guys an update. life has been insane these past two years and i finally was able to finish up this chapter and move forward with the series.

in truth, my creativity was so shot and i couldn't bring myself to write work that i wasn't proud of. you guys deserve the absolute best!

for everyone who has waited for my series, i really really love you and appreciate you. to know that there are people out there that have taken the time to read my work, it is a blessing.

if you liked the chapter, let me know what you think in the comments! i always love reading your thoughts!

please always take care of yourselves!

love,

nana <3

~~side note here: going to break down some of my choices down for this chapter, so if you’re interested, read on!

i really leaned into the themes of friendship and family in this chapter and i focused on the forest and flashbacks because this will be the last time we'll see them in this setting.

i fell in love with the first movie so long ago, that when i rewatched the extended version recently, i realized that i forgot that neytiri had a sister!

i thought that the flashback i added with her really enriched the storyline and the connection between Grace, Jake, and the reader, while adding more volume to HOW two worlds could collide—how a boss could become a friend.

Spider getting captured right after they connected too was so necessary because I really wanted him to feel so conflicted — he had just connected with his sister, felt a bond with her, and suddenly he realizes that he can't fully hate his father. It mirrors how the reader also feels about Quaritch, but her history with him, her sense of duty and moral compass guide her more toward the Sullys, while Spider struggles with it a little more.

And then these moments with Jake and y/n too! Like, they are BEST friends. But to him, you've always been the baby, so him getting all protective now that he's a dad was a comedic choice that I couldn't resist. Cause it's like... Jake that's your whole ass son and you're cockblocking???? And then of course, Neytiri, even though she doesn't outwardly show it (like her mother Mo'at our grand shipper of the Lo'ak reader ride), she doesn't mind that Lo'ak is clearly interested in you

THENNNN,

we have our stars of the show, the slow burn romance we're all dying for— Lo'ak and reader.

LIKE SHE KISSED HIM? (I mean, shit me too honestly, but damn, who would have thought?)

I was originally gonna have him kiss her first, but it felt so much more of a natural move for her to just do it, the moment so right for her and then the INSTANT regret of it on her end, and Lo'ak teasing her after—it encompasses how easy their relationship is and how willing Lo'ak is to just take things at her pace, even though he's ready to dive right in.

~

also, p.s. i still have my taglists and will update it, but with how the character limit is, i wasn't able to put everybody down on this post.

taglist:

@mae-is-crazy @mrs-sullys-blog @23victoria @neteyamforlife  @a-queen-blr @neteyamslovr @fifty-shades-of-mischeif @pretty-npeach @tonni30  @itsemy01 @jimfiqs

[girldriveroscar]

Ngl the first race & seeing all the hate ln4 fans force onto Oscar constantly has unfortunately forced me to turn evil and be 81 pilled soooo bad this season. It’s so bad I’m about to join the ranks of people calling landoscar PR. Like wow true! Can’t believe McLaren force them to make intense eye contact and give each other tender touches………

have to put these two asks together bc they are making me lol hahaha. got too serious about the oscar prop I Have To Remind you all I am a Firm Encourager of F1 Drivers going down on each other for the love and hate of it all. like I Do actually believe there is a lot of oscar's honest personality coming thru in how much he just Likes and Respects Lando and is Genuinely pleased with himself how much closer they've gotten (since he seems incapable of Not reminding us this year??? Guys.)

I might've agreed w that sentiment like... a few months ago HONEST TO GOD. at least to the fact that they were closer to acquaintances than even Friendly coworkers but idk man... IDK... they're Really pushing it and I think Oscar has come out of his shell so much in just this season that I'm very inclined to believe he speaks earnestly about his relationship towards Lando. bc. waves hands. tone. breaking from the script. relaxed nature about it. I think it is genuine to some degree yeah. and I say this as like. a Major 81head. like do you understand how badly I Wish that were the case. do u get how badly I wish it was psychological warfare and Oscar wasn't Actually just giggly and sweet about a MANNNN,,, HIS #1 COMPETITOR....

like im sitting here saying lando's the soft one and Oscar has the means to be stronger mentally. and he is Humiliating me. He is Being So Honeymoon Starry-Eyed in love. Oh may God. I hope mark webber is turning in his grave. the never-ending horrors for that man.

I am still so confident in Oscar beyond the RPF narrative but the last race alone has me honest to god doubting Myself. like. We all know the two number one drivers thing is a bad idea so Why Are They So disgustingly sweet about it. why are they both so bashful propping each other up... What is happening in the house of mclaren. ONLY TWO RACES IN THOUGH. I remind everyone. Only two in. still have solid belief in all I've predicted for Oscar. he just needs to lock in and keep ahead el oh el. God I can't wait for the WDC to get serious.. holding out for Genuine calamity and MORE toxic yaoi... zak brown kinda is insane for this when u think about it..

its rly like. so freeing to enjoy 814 whilst the Bigger Horrors of Ferrari are taking up my Emotional Bearings. Like my ship is fucking sinking we are going down the main hull is Flooding. but look at these two idiots making out in a row boat across the way.. god. Great entertainment. half my cargo is at the bottom of the ocean. but look how cute Oscar is when he is happy. look how in love my boy is Oh God.

[kortac-sweetheart]

Hello man biter, I also believe in grazing man meat with my teeth

I think about biting Nikto a lot, like I've headcanoned him to the Dad Thing™ of standing instead of sitting down(mans prolly in to much pain to get up after relaxing)

Which has lead me to think of him standing and watching a show while sitting on the couch next to him and getting the opportunity to roll up his shirt a wee bit and bite his side.

As a treat, the meaty parts of him (in my opinion biting on bone isn't as fun, I like feeling the meat give under my teeth yknow?) Like the space between his thumb and index, his bicep (especially during cuddling, touch maximisation), shoulders

My golden jewel of biting is biting the ring finger in place of a ring, id imagine the boys (most of not all) have an aversion to marriage, regardless on if they actually want to or not, it gives them a documented weakness, even just having a ring on too.

I like to think of vows to say to him before renewing the bite each time

I want to chew on this man so bad if makes me look stupid

we’re on the same wavelength you and i, i’ve written about him biting your finger in place of an actual ring, if you haven’t seen it you can find it here

and yes god i want to bite nikto so bad you do understand actually you get it, he’s thick, corded and strong muscle and a nice layer of fat over it, hard and squishy at the same time, the perfect chew toy to gnaw on

listen if you do take a bite out of his stomach/love handles while he’s standing there he’s either going to scream (if he was locked in) or just slowly turn his head down at you and just. look at you. with no emotion, and that’s your cue to run before he can pin you to the floor and tickle/bite you back (it’s futile, he’ll catch you eventually and you’ll dissolve into a fit of giggles as he bites and tickles you all over)

but yeah, he likes being turned into a chew toy too, loves the feeling of you touching him no matter what it is, but bites are especially nice (he’s a damn masochist)

(also the renewing vows when biting each other is so romantic actually, im a huge fan of that)

[carouselunique]

They had a bit of a chance encounter on a day where Blueblood was dealing with something that was very difficult and was so caught up in his emotions he didn’t even care that he was in the garden getting grass stans on his coat and Ditzy, with her natural impulse to cheer ponies up, didn’t even notice or care that she was flying into the palace gardens when she saw someone sat in the rain.

At first he was definitely going to call the castle guards to come apprehend this strange filly with the odd eyes who was intruding when this was the last moment he’d want to entertain any desperate debutantes, however she surprised him by not fawning or anything, not even caring about his status, just putting one of her fluffy wings up and asking if he needed somepony to lend an ear.

“Don’t let my eyes fool you, my ears work just fine!”

She was incredibly disarming and while he didn’t reveal everything about why he was upset, he found himself talking about his feelings to her. And she made such cheerful remarks, and was very comforting. In the end, he felt better and she came to check on him the next day, even sharing a blueberry muffin with him. He remarked that he’d never seen her around before, and that he wouldn’t mind terribly seeing her more often.

The rest, as they say, is history.

[atlxolotl]

Transcript and links to Reddit under the Read more:

I miss my husband so goddamn much

February 27th, 2025

I (35M) divorced my husband (36M) three years ago. And God, I miss him. I asked for a divorce for a few reasons, most of which being that his depression got exponentially worse day after day and he refused to seek treatment. Sometimes he wouldn't even go into work and ended up getting fired from his job. I stayed with him for so fucking long, praying that one day he would start trying to get better. It was all I ever wanted, but that day didn't come. I sobbed the entire time signing those papers, and when I handed them to him and asked for a divorce, he just gave me the emptiest, deadest look and signed them without a word. My heart felt like it had been shattered with a hammer, anger and sadness and fear tied together in the world's tightest, ugliest knot and inset deep into my chest.

I put on a brave face for my friends, tried to frame it as shackles coming off and a new beginning, but it was a lie. It just hurt, and it keeps hurting, and it will never stop hurting. He was my soulmate. I'll never love anyone like I loved him. He used to be so sweet and loving, so passionate and happy and every other wonderful thing a man could want from another.

They say each day gets easier, but it isn't for me. It's been three years and I'm still reaching over to the other side of the bed in the morning to pull him close, and it always stings when my hands touch fabric and not his skin. It's been three years and I'm still expecting to see his car in the driveway when I get home from work. It's been three years and my heart isn't any less broken than the day he left.

I've been stalking his socials, I'll admit. He's been getting back to the gym, started meds, and I see him smiling so genuinely in these photos. He looks so incredible. Maybe if I had just waited, he would have changed his mind and went to a doctor like he is now? Or was it me that held him down? Was I making it worse?

I hope not. I wanna go over to his place and just fall into his arms and beg him to take me back. Maybe he's wishing the same thing about me. If there's even a chance I could have my boy back I feel like I should try. I'll never know otherwise.

EDIT: One: I am a homosexual man. My husband is a homosexual man. I am not a woman. Yes, I know I'm effeminate and kind of emotional. Get creative.

Two: my husband was a binge drinker. He refused treatment no matter how much I begged. We got antidepressants but he wouldn't take them. I know he's started meds now because he's posted about them and his 2 yrs sober chip that he got last month.

Three: I never stopped loving him. I never loved him any less. Near the end of our marriage, I started drinking to cope. The second I realized I was, I realized he was dragging me down with him, and I couldn't help him anymore. I didn't dip the second it got hard. Many of you are being kind of rude. I'll accept that I wasn't the perfect husband, nobody is. But claims that I never loved him are just wrong and make me feel sick to my stomach.

EDIT 2: No, I am not the catalyst for this. His depression started when his young brother died terribly and unexpectedly. It's not because he just hated me so much. We were childhood sweethearts and had been together for years when this happened.

[UPDATE] I met my husband that I divorced 3 years ago

March 2nd, 2025

Well, with Reddit's advice, I did it. A few days ago, I called my (35M) ex-husband (36M) whom I divorced after 6 years when he refused to seek treatment for his depression.

I called him later in the evening. It was the first time we'd spoken since a bit of trouble he'd had while he was still drinking 2 1/2 years ago. He picked up on the second ring. Our conversation was a little stilted at first, as to be expected, but he said he was really glad to hear from me. We ended up meeting up for coffee yesterday as so many of you suggested. I'll admit: it was kind of hard to see him, but in a good way? He looked so much better than the last time I had seen him, but he looked exactly like the man I married. He had put off a ton of weight (he gained like 75ish pounds during his struggle with depression, and before some dick says so, I didn't leave him because of his weight gain), he looked way healthier and very put together. I'll just say it: he looked incredibly hot. What made it hard was that I couldn't kiss him hello like I used to. But God, the way his eyes lit up when he saw me, I barely needed to.

We got our coffee and sat, and he updated me a little on his life in the last 3 years.

What really turned his life around was in part the divorce but moreso a DUI (nobody was hurt, he was caught a few blocks from his apartment). He's since gone to rehab and AA, gotten his license back, and had to use a breathalyzer whenever he started his car for a while. He hasn't had a drop of alcohol since and I told him I was so fucking proud of him. He's also started antidepressants, and made a point of telling me that they're not SSRIs, but when I asked what that meant he got embarrassed and told me nevermind (???). Bottom line is that they've been helping him, he's back to being a gym rat, and he's almost completely turned his life around. This was around the point I started tearing up. It just felt so good knowing he was okay. Better than okay, he was *good*.

I also apologized to him for not sticking by him. He cut me off and said I had nothing to apologize for. He was a wreck, and I was being dragged down with him. That also felt good to hear. I apologized for not contacting him much during the last 3 years. That apology, he accepted.

He was dating someone for a few months, too. He broke up with him once he tried to get him to drink on New Year's. He seemed dismissive of the guy. Guess it wasn't too serious.

We got up and went on a walk after a few hours, and I think we both realized it felt like a first date. I had to stop myself from trying to hold his hand at a few points, I'll admit. We ended up sitting on a bench in a nearby park, and I confessed.

I told him I missed him more than anything, how I never stopped loving him, and how if he wanted to, I'd love to try again from the beginning this time. We'd go to couples' therapy, keep our heads above the water, and take it slow. He was quiet for a minute before he told me something. He said he was doing better now, but there may be a time where he sunk low again. Depression isn't easily cured, and he was far from cured. He still had bad days, but he said there would be one difference: he promised he would never stop trying to improve. He was never going to give up like he did before, and refused to neglect me like he used to. If I was willing to accept that truth, he was willing to try again. I agreed, and he pulled me into an embrace and snuck a kiss to my temple. You know when it's the first warm day of spring after a cold, harsh winter, and the soft breeze and basking sun hit your skin at the same time? It felt something like that, to the 1000th degree. After a while he walked me back to my car and squeezed my hand goodbye, and the second I got inside I started sobbing like a baby. Happy tears, though.

I'm currently sitting in bed, kicking my feet like a teenage girl, texting him back and forth to schedule an actual date. He said he'd plan everything, and try his best to make up for the birthdays and anniversaries he missed. He said it would "knock my socks off." What a dork. I love being in love. Not gonna lie, this is gonna be a bit hard to explain to my friends and family. Not looking forward to those conversations, but right now I don't care. My man loves me.

Thank you to everyone who had kind words to say, and all the people that messaged me with sympathy and advice. I hope we all find happiness, and love if we want it. I never would have made the leap if y'all hadn't encouraged me. Best of luck to all of you, and sorry for the overly flowery language <3

EDIT: we've scheduled a date for tomorrow evening. I'll let people know how it went two days from now in my final (unless something big happens) update.

EDIT 2: at his place presently. Shame me not, reddit.

[FINAL UPDATE] I went on a date with my ex-husband last night

March 5th, 2025

My (35M) ex-husband (36M) and I recently reconnected. I won't go over the details of why we split or our reconciliation since I'm sure the average redditor can click buttons and most likely read. He was the one taking me out, and promised that it would, in his words, "knock my socks off" to make up for his neglect of me. He sure as hell delivered.

A little backstory, we've been together since we were 15 and 16 respectively, and have never moved out of our hometown. This year would have been our 20th anniversary (of getting together, not marriage). We were dating secretly for about five years before our parents caught us one day during summer break. The fallout from finding out their son was gay actually made his parents split. His dad wanted to send him away to conversion therapy. He's seen his father maybe once per year on average, and every time he's incredibly cold towards me. Would never refer to me as his son-in-law, only my husband's "pal." I wonder why. Anyway, not what you're here to read. I'll get on with the lore.

He picked me up from the house and wouldn't tell me where we were going, but told me to dress warmly. He ended up taking me to the place where we met: a run down ice skating rink in our town. He used to do hockey, and I spent some time trying to learn figure skating until people started beating me up for it. Both sports would practice at the same time and I remember barely being able to keep my eyes off him. We went skating, I tried to pull off a few of the moves I remembered (he only had to catch me from falling on my ass once or twice, and I won't complain about an attractive man that I love hooking his arm around my waist), and we spent an hour or so there until our feet hurt. At one point I said that my face was getting cold, so he skated around in front of me and placed his gloved hands on my cheeks to warm me up. I just about burned a hole in the ice from how hard I was blushing, I swear to God.

He wasn't done then. We left and went to dinner, specifically the restaurant where we had our first date. It's a cheap hole-in-the-wall place, seeing as we were poor teenagers when we first met. We chatted and ate food that probably took 5 years off our lives, he was an incorrigible flirt, and even held my hand underneath the table like he did all those years ago. I know I said I never stopped loving him, and I stand by that, but I think I somehow fell in love with him a thousand times over again during that meal.

At the end of dinner, he asked if I had energy for one more simple thing, to which I agreed. He took me a while out of town to a dark sky zone park, specifically the one where he proposed to me ten years ago. He set out a blanket to sit on and another to cuddle under, and we went stargazing all bundled up together. You never know how much you miss the sound of someone's heartbeat until you haven't heard it for so long. We shared a bottle of sparkling grape juice in plastic champagne flutes and dumb, giggly kisses. It felt so similar yet so different. He told me in a moment of quiet that he loved me, and oh, God. It took everything I had not to cry. I barely hesitated before asking if he wanted to change venues. He seemed surprised, but eagerly accepted.

I ended up at his place, as some of you may have seen from my edit on my second post yesterday. I wanted to take it slower than this, but it was so hard to. I was so starved of affection and hadn't been intimate with anyone for just about six years. I'm gonna keep what happened at his between us, but all I'll say is that his medication was no issue and all of you should be jealous. I woke up in his bed this morning, reached over for him, and pulled him close just like I used to do. I haven't been this happy in a long time. We had a sleepy discussion and decided to get back together, but we're not using the term boyfriends. It just feels weird after all this time. So he's my partner, or my lover. He's mine.

Thank you, reddit. Wouldn't have done it without a little push from the internet. Let's see where all this goes.

[silverselfshippingchaos]

i know i mostly post y.akuza these days, but I'm so filled with love for f.elix. have been for so long now.

[pennyellee]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡?

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡? | 𝐌𝐘𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐔 (𝐌) pairings: producer!min yoongi x popgirlie f!reader genre: romance, smut, slight porn with plot, friends to lovers au word count: 6K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily)

prompt: "There is just no way you two did not fuck each other's brains out." summary: "You Big Enough?" - when an old flame resurfaced, rumours spiralled, and suddenly, every lingering glance and every touch between you seemed to carry weight. It had always been just music, just friendship—hadn’t it? No. You always had the vibe of  'will they, won't they.' This has become bigger than the music. Tension crackled, boundaries blurred, and there was this thing that Yoongi made sure you knew well besides that he was big enough. "They just talk. I fucking deliver."

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, explicit language, themes of subtle (and not-so-subtle) possessiveness, teasing, sexual activity, rough sex, fingering (f receiving), miscommunication driving emotional conflict, dirty talk, raw fucking (stay safe!) choking and spanking as part of intimate scenes, creampie, fleeting nipple play, very subtle dominance/submission dynamics, implied size kink ... (as per usual, I'll add some if needed)

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, sexual activity, sex without protection, choking and spanking as part of intimate scenes.

a/n: yall, I had this idea like a month ago and I wrote the initial part but lowkey forgot that it's in my drafts so I finished it yesterday (might come later to edit, pls excuse me im working overtime these days) and amazing and spectacular @chaoticpuff17 managed to read it so you can have it as a lil Valentine's day treat. So here is something simple, smutty, and cute for ya. Happy Valentine to all of you who celebrate, love you my little fairies! ♥

masterlist

Your hands hovered above the keys and your brain could not figure out what to press to make it sound as magical as you want. Your mind searched for the perfect melody for the bridge of her latest song—

"Try F-sharp minor," Yoongi suggested, his voice low and even. The studio is a second home for you. Always have been and dear Min Yoongi was as much a refuge as the soundproof walls and softly humming equipment.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"Perfect—" There was a warmth in his gaze, one that lingered a second too long.

"How do you always know, Yoongi-ah?"

"It's my job," he said simply, but the corners of his mouth quirked up. Your heart fluttered with a familiar yet unwelcome sensation. But you quickly shook it off, focusing on the music in front of her.

"I'm lucky to have you, then," you murmured.

Yoongi didn't respond immediately, and when he did, his voice was quieter than before.

"I'd say I'm the lucky one."

Before you could process what he meant, your phone buzzed, breaking the spell. You picked it up, seeing a message from your lifelong bestie, Jimin-ah.

Emergency. Coming over.

You frown but you are happy to not indulge in something you don't have the answers to. "Jimin-ah is on his way. Guess I'll have to call it a night."

Yoongi's expression was unreadable, but he nodded, knowing that it must be something important if you’re packing your stuff so quickly. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"You need to fucking hear this," he says, her voice brimming with urgency when he bursts into the apartment like a whirlwind, his dark glossy hair bouncing as he flops onto the couch.

"You remember Seo Kang-joon?"

You hand him a glass of red wine and sit across from him.

"What now? Did he suddenly reappear after he ghosted me?"

Jimin winces.

"Actually, yeah. And I finally found out why he did so."

Your stomach drops. You liked that man when you went out, but the message you left a good amount of time ago went unanswered for an even longer period of time.

"Why?"

He hesitates, his eyes darting around the room. Finally, he leans forward, lowering his voice. "Everyone thinks you and Yoongi are… you know."

You blink.

"What?" you say, playing dumb.

"You knooowww…—

"—that."

He said through gritted teeth, trying to make you understand, but your brain was not cooperating.

"No, I dooooon't know that" You mimicked him, and he only stared dead serious at your stupidity.

"They think you've been doing it," he says bluntly. "Apparently, it's some open secret in the industry. Like, 'Oh, Y/N and Yoongi? Of course, they're a thing.'"

Your jaw drops. No way. No fucking way.

"That's insane. We're not… we're not like that."

"You sure about that buttercup?" Jimin raises an eyebrow and you merely nod.

"Cuz', he's not exactly denying it. And honestly, can you blame people for assuming? You've written two albums together, spent countless hours locked in the studio, and the way he looks at you…" he trails off, shaking his head.

"There is just no way you two did not fuck each other's brains out."

Your cheeks burn.

"That's ridiculous. Yoongi and I are friends. Just friends."

"Hmm, I don't know hun,—"

He was right. You weren't buying it. Not entirely.

But you weren't ready to admit that out loud—not yet, anyway. Your mind races. You replay every moment you've spent together, every lingering glance and fleeting touch.

Yoongi and you?

It was absurd, wasn't it?

Right?

Jimin watched you carefully, his perfectly shaped brows raised in amusement. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

"No," you scoffed, but your voice lacked conviction.

Jimin smirked, leaning back against the couch. "Look, babe, I wouldn't bring this up if I didn't think it was something you should actually think about. People don't just make this kind of shit up for no reason."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "I just—why wouldn't he deny it?"

"That's what you need to figure out." Jimin gave you a pointed look. "You trust him, don't you?"

You hesitated. That was the problem, wasn't it? You trusted Yoongi more than anyone. He had been your anchor in the storm, your safe space when everything else felt uncertain.

But this—this was different.

The way he looked at you.

The way he always knew exactly what you needed.

You replayed every moment with Yoongi in your mind, combing through the memories with a fine-toothed scepticism, looking for anything—anything—that could have fed these rumours. The way he watched you while you worked in the dance studio, the quiet way he always made sure you had water before long sessions, the casual intimacy in the way he touched you—light, fleeting, like a habit neither of you had ever questioned.

Had you been blind this whole time?

Jimin's voice snapped you back to reality.

"Look, I think you need to talk to him. Like, actually talk to him."

You swallowed hard.

Talking to Min Yoongi had never been difficult before. But this? This felt dangerous.

The next evening, you stepped into the dimly lit studio, and the question sat on the tip of your tongue like a loaded gun.

Yoongi was already there, as always. The warm amber glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across his sharp features, catching on the soft strands of dark hair that fell over his eyes. His fingers rested idly on the soundboard, a picture of quiet focus—until he looked up at you.

His gaze, steady and unreadable, held you captive.

"You're late," he murmured, but there was no accusation in his tone—just that familiar, quiet warmth.

You swallowed. "Got caught up with Jimin last night, forgot to set a reminder."

At that, something flickered across his face—too quick to name, gone before you could hold onto it. "Ah."

Silence stretched between you, thick with something you weren't ready to name. But you hadn't come here to tiptoe around things anymore.

So you stepped forward, pressing a hand against the cool surface of the mixing console, grounding yourself, only now taking his appearance in.

"I played with the structure a little last night after you went home and—" he broke the silence first, but you knew he sensed the sudden awkwardness in your posture, your whole being.

"Is something the matter, sleepyhead?"

"Nope, nothing at all."

You quickly retorted, trying to look anywhere else but his gorgeous face.

Yoongi's eyes, however, never wavered. They held a depth that made it impossible for you to escape his gaze. You had always known how intense he could be, but now, in the stillness of the studio, it felt almost intimate, the air thick with unspoken words that seemed to pulse around you like a melody begging to be heard.

He leaned forward slightly, his hands resting casually on the desk, but his posture was all focus—intent, almost as if he was waiting for you to unravel yourself.

"Are you sure about that?" His voice was lower now, a gentle challenge. He was pulling at the thread, testing the tension between you.

Your stomach twisted. This was the moment, wasn't it?

"I'm fine, Yoongi, just had a lot of wine last night," you said again, but your voice betrayed you. It cracked, ever so slightly, and you couldn't mask the uncertainty in it.

The silence between you thickened, and it felt like the space in the room had shrunk, until it was just you, him, and the suffocating pressure of the question you both knew was lingering.

He didn't look away, not even when you avoided his gaze, staring down at the soundboard like it could offer you some kind of escape. He moved to the electronic piano while lifting a brow at you.

"So as I said, I played with the structure—"

You watched him, leaning at the piano, his fingers poised just above the keys, waiting for him to break the silence again, to give you something more. But you didn't want more from him—not in the way you wanted it. Not yet.

Instead, you played a dangerous game, one of subtle manipulation, testing him, probing for the truth behind his unreadable expressions.

"You remember Seo Kang-joon, right?" You interrupt him, raising your voice just a little.

The name hung in the air between you, deliberately chosen, carefully placed like a baited hook.

Yoongi's fingers stilled for the briefest of moments. But it was enough. Just enough for you to notice. His posture shifted ever so slightly, his shoulders stiffening imperceptibly.

You bit back a smile, inwardly satisfied at his subtle reaction.

"I bumped into him yesterday on my way home. He... he actually asked me out on a date again. Said he lost his phone and had to get a new phone number, didn't remember mine."

A lie.

The words left your mouth so easily, like a lie you had rehearsed in front of the mirror, and yet your heart pounded with anticipation. You weren't expecting much. Just a flicker of jealousy, a crack in the calm façade he always wore. So your interrogation of his, perhaps, hidden feelings isn't unprovoked.

Yoongi didn't immediately respond. His fingers finally touched the keys, the faintest chord ringing through the room, but his eyes remained fixed on the piano.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the soft melody playing between you, the rhythm of his fingers meeting the ivories almost too steady.

And then, finally, he spoke. His voice was low, flat. "Is that so?"

Your breath caught. That was it?

You frowned, staring at him from across the room, searching for a reaction. Anything. But his expression was as controlled as ever. His calm demeanour was unshakable.

No way.

You leaned forward, the pressure of the lie beginning to claw at your insides. "Yeah, he asked me. He was actually pretty... persistent about it. He was sorry I thought he ghosted me." You let the words hang, trailing off deliberately, watching his reaction closely.

But Yoongi only nodded, his eyes focused on the keys.

"I see."

A small flame of frustration ignited in your chest. Was he really this indifferent? Was he truly going to let this lie slide without a hint of a reaction?

You stood up abruptly, unable to hold the pretense any longer. You could feel your temper rising, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

"You fucking see?!" Yoongi's fingers paused mid-chord as the tension in your voice snapped through the room. You busted out your feelings. Well, this was doomed from the start.

You stepped forward, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and something else—something raw that you hadn't been prepared to face. "You don't even care, do you? You don't care that everyone is saying we're fucking, that they think we're—" You cut yourself off, almost choking on the words. You couldn't bear to say them aloud, but you needed to know, needed to push him.

His gaze met yours, and in that instant, you knew he hadn't been indifferent. He'd been waiting. Waiting for you to unravel yourself, for you to show your cards. His eyes, dark and unreadable, pinned you in place.

"Is that what you wanted to hear?" His voice was cold now, controlled, with an edge that made your skin prickle. The air in the room thickened, turning heavy with the weight of his words.

"Well, perchance?!—" You gesture rapidly.

"You run around not denying it Yoongi,—?!"

The calm, controlled exterior he wore was unravelling, and you weren't sure if you liked the version of him that was emerging—or if it terrified you.

He stood up, slowly, deliberately. The sudden motion caused a cold shiver to run down your spine. He didn't step towards you, but the space between you both seemed to shrink in the way he carried himself—every step deliberate, every movement measured.

"Why do you care so much?" His voice was low, almost detached, but there was a certain sharpness to it now. It was the tone he used when he was dangerously close to losing control, but for now, he still kept it in check. "What's so important about what they think?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words tangled in your throat. You had been so sure of your reasoning—so certain of the way you wanted him to react—but now that he was giving you exactly what you wanted, you realized just how hollow that satisfaction felt.

"I dunno Yoongi—maybe because men ghosted me—maybe because you just might be the reason I had a dry season— or maybe you're that kind of motherfucker—"

Yoongi let out a sharp breath, a dry laugh escaping him as he shook his head. You elevated this to a different level now. "A motherfucker?" He repeated his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement. "That's what we're doing now?"

You were too far gone to stop. The frustration, the pent-up emotions, the sheer nerve of him sitting there, all unbothered while you spiralled—it cracked something open inside you.

"Yes, Yoongi! A motherfucker! What else do you call a guy who lets rumours fly like this and doesn't even care?" Your hands gestured wildly as your voice grew more frantic.

"You don't deny it, you don't address it, you just exist in this limbo, letting people think we're screwing while I sit here looking like a desperate idiot who cannot get a hold of her man—"

His jaw clenched, his patience visibly wearing thin. "So what if I don't deny it?" He stepped closer, voice a fraction lower now, dangerously quiet. "What if I don't care what they think? What if I like the way it sounds?"

Your breath hitched.

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. Your entire argument, the whole reason you'd brought this up, suddenly felt shaky, flimsy, like a house of cards collapsing under the weight of his words.

Yoongi watched you, his eyes dark and unreadable, waiting for you to process what he had just admitted.

Finally, your voice came out in a whisper, hoarse and unsure.

"The fuck, Yoongi?"

"I don't deny it," he said again, slower this time. His head tilted slightly, studying you. "Because it's not entirely wrong."

A rush of heat flooded through you—anger, shock, confusion, something else, something deeper and more dangerous. "Not… entirely… wrong?" You echoed, blinking at him. "Are you—are you actually fucking insane?"

Yoongi exhaled sharply, like he was just as frustrated as you were, like you were the one being difficult. "Y/N—"

"No," you cut him off, pointing a finger at him. "No, you don't get to just drop that and act like it's nothing."

"I'm not acting like it's nothing," he countered, his voice still calm, still infuriatingly composed. "You wanted to know why I never denied it? That's why."

"You can't be fucking serious right now, you fuck—" his body in your proximity startled you, but you let him pin you to the wall next to the mixing desk.

His hands caged you in, palms pressing against the wall on either side of your head. You felt the sharp inhale of his breath, the slow exhale, the tension buzzing between you like a live wire.

"You don't get it, do you?" His voice was quiet but razor-edged, his eyes dark and unwavering. "You've been running in circles trying to make me jealous, trying to get a reaction—" his gaze flicked down to your lips for just a second before meeting your eyes again, "pushing me like you want me to snap."

You listened. For once.

"You sat in that fucking booth with only your panties under that big shirt—"

"My fucking shirt—"

"My fucking shirt," he repeated, voice rough. "And you think I wouldn't become possessive? Think I didn't see the way you stretched in it, how you leaned in close, pretending like you didn't know exactly what you were doing?"

Your breath hitched. You did not realize he saw you this way.

You swallowed, trying to find solid ground beneath the sudden energy shift, but Yoongi wasn't giving you the chance.

"You wanted me to react?" His eyes burned into yours. "You wanted this?"

The heat between you became unbearable.

"I—" You started, but you had no words.

Because now, finally, Yoongi wasn't holding back.

And neither were you.

Your pulse hammered in your throat as his words sank in, wrapping around your ribs, tightening like a snare. You had been waiting—aching—for a reaction, pushing buttons you hadn't even fully understood yourself. But now? Now, Yoongi was looking at you like he had already decided.

His breath was warm against your cheek, the space between you non-existent.

"Say it," he murmured.

You licked your lips, the movement not lost on him. "Say what?"

Yoongi let out a short, dark chuckle. "That you like it. That you like this—the way I look at you, the way I see you."

Your stomach flipped.

"You're so full of shit," you whispered, but there was no weight behind it but pure provocation.

His fingers twitched against the wall before he exhaled sharply and leaned in, just enough for your breaths to tangle.

"And you'll be full of me."

"You big enough?" 

Oh, that did it.

A sharp, involuntary gasp left his lips and your body betrayed you before your mind could catch up. The air between you turned electric, charged with something too dangerous to name.

Yoongi's gaze darkened, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as if savouring the way your breath hitched when he looked at you that way. He bit down his lower lip before he spoke again, laying his palms on the flat surface of the table in front of the piano that lay on it–

"There are two possibilities happening between us—" He tilted his head slightly, gaze never wavering from yours, his voice a low rasp against your skin.

"One—we make this official,—" He said it like it was inevitable, like it was a fact written in stone. "No more rumours, no more bullshit. No one else but us. Just you and me."

Your breath stuttered, your heart slamming against your ribs.

"And the second?" you whispered, barely able to form the words.

Yoongi smirked, slow and sinful, his fingers twitching against the wall before he leaned in, his mouth a breath away from yours.

"I keep writing my songs, keep filling my verses with filth about how I would fuck you good and hard—until you finally beg me to bury my cock in your cunt."

“And people will hear you’re mine—”

Your entire body went hot. Yoongi's smirk widened, watching the way your breath stuttered, your pupils blown wide. He tilted his head, gaze flicking down to your parted lips, his voice dropping even lower. Your thighs clenched a traitorous reaction that made his smirk turn predatory.

"You—"

"That's the difference between them and me, baby." His fingers ghosted over your waist, light enough to make you shiver. "They just talk. I fucking deliver."

You swallowed hard, your pulse thrumming so violently it was a wonder you were still standing.

"You're so—"

"What?" Yoongi pressed in closer, his nose brushing against yours. "Say it."

You had no idea what you were going to say.

But when his fingers finally curled around your hip, pulling you flush against him, the words you should say, the ones that would stop this before it went too far—before you gave in—died in your throat.

"Fucking thought so." He smirked again. That smirk. That fucking smirk.

It did something to you, something dangerous, something you weren't sure you could control. It made you want to wipe it off his face—maybe with a slap, maybe with your mouth.

Yoongi knew it, too.

He leaned in just a fraction closer, his breath hot against your cheek, his grip tightening on your hip as if daring you to push him away.

You didn't.

"See?" His voice was silk and smoke, smooth but lethal. "You love this. You love the way I get under your skin. The way I make you feel."

Your nails dug into your palms. "You don't know shit about what I feel."

Yoongi chuckled, low and rough. "Don't I?"

His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down your side, stopping just shy of indecency but still making you shudder.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured. "Tell me you don't want this, and I will."

It was the worst thing he could've said. Because the truth—the one you refused to admit even to yourself—was that you didn't want him to stop. Ever. You were so fucking needy to be touched after you got to know that your dried spell had a sorcerer and it was him. So technically now, he should be the one breaking it. And he knew it.

Your silence was all the confirmation he needed to press his lips against your neck.

His hands were suddenly everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your thighs, spreading you open like he had every right to.

"You think I'm going to let you run your mouth, push me to the edge, and not do something about it?" His voice was a rasp, thick with hunger. "You think I don't see how badly you want this?"

Your breath hitched as his thigh pressed between yours, the friction making your knees buckle. His mouth found your jaw, teeth scraping over sensitive skin before he kissed a path down your throat, sucking, biting, claiming.

You barely had time to think before he gripped your wrist, guiding your hand down—down—until your fingers brushed against him, hard and thick beneath his sweats. The sound that tore from his throat was pure sin.

"Feel that?" Yoongi growled, grinding against your palm. "That's what you do to me. That's what you fucking cause each time we're in this studio."

Your fingers flexed, a teasing squeeze that had his breath stuttering. He cursed under his breath, tilting your chin up with his free hand, forcing you to meet his gaze.

Dark. Devouring. Desperate.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured again, a cruel echo of earlier. But this time, there was no space between you, no restraint.

And you didn't.

Instead, you yanked his mouth to yours. Yoongi groaned into the kiss, the sound reverberating through you as his hands pushed under your shirt, fingers trailing over bare skin, leaving fire in their wake.

Your nails raked down his back as he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you harder against the wall.

His hips rolled, slow and devastating, and a moan ripped from your throat, shameless, wrecked.

"That's it, baby" he rasped, his forehead against yours, breath heavy. "That's the sound I've been waiting for."

His hand dipped lower, slipping past the band of your shorts, finding you soaked for him. Yoongi cursed, his fingers teasing, circling, before sliding through the wetness with devastating precision.

"Fuck," he groaned, voice hoarse. "You're already so fucking ready for me."

You didn't even get a chance to respond before he pushed a finger inside, then another, stretching you, filling you, working you open until you were trembling against him.

"Yoongi—"

"I know," he hushed you, his lips brushing against your ear, his fingers moving faster, deeper. "I've got you, baby. Just take it."

And fuck, you did. You took everything he gave, your body writhing against his as pleasure built sharp and unbearable, spiralling higher, tightening—

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice dark, commanding. "Come on my fingers like the desperate little thing I know you are."

And when he curled his fingers just right, his thumb pressing where you needed it most—

You shattered.

Completely. Utterly.

Yoongi swallowed your cry with his mouth, dragging it out, his hand still moving, still milking every last bit of pleasure from you until you were shaking in his arms.

Then, as you barely caught your breath, his voice came again, low and teasing.

"Now," he murmured, undoing the string of his sweats, letting them fall.

"I'll fuck you hard that you'll forget about those smutty books you're reading—"

Your body barely had time to recover before Yoongi was pressing closer, his fingers sliding away, leaving you aching and empty. But then—then—his hands were on your hips, tugging your shorts down, peeling them away with agonizing slowness, like he wanted you to feel every second of it.

Your breath stuttered as he stepped back just enough to look at you, his dark gaze trailing over your bare, trembling form.

"Fucking perfect," he muttered, almost to himself, before his hands gripped your thighs and lifted you, forcing your legs around his waist.

The weight of him, the sheer heat of him, pressed right against your core, had you gasping, fingers digging into his shoulders. Yoongi groaned low in his throat, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel all of him, hard and thick and ready.

"Ain’t big enough, huh?" he murmured, dragging his clothed crotch against your soaked heat. His voice was rough, strained. "I’ll show you how big I am."

Your nails bit into his skin, your body writhing against him as he kept teasing, kept torturing you with slow, precise movements. The friction had you panting, your forehead falling against his.

"Stop teasing," you managed, barely above a breath.

Yoongi chuckled, dark and knowing. "Look at you. So desperate for me already." His fingers gripped your jaw, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "Tell me how much you want it."

You let out a sound between a whimper and a growl, rolling your hips against him in a silent plea. But that wasn't enough for him. Your heart racing, you felt his warm palm connect with your skin, a stinging sensation spreading through your buttocks as he spanked you. You let out a small yelp, but Yoongi didn't relent, his hand rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

"Say it." His voice was like gravel, low and demanding. "Say you want me to fuck you, Y/N. Say you need me." He pulled down his sweats enough so his cock sprang free from the confinement.

Your pride clashed with your need, the battle waging for only a moment before he rolled his hips again, pressing the thick head of his cock right against your entrance—and your resolve snapped.

"Fuck—I need you," you gasped, your fingers twisting into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan. "Please, Yoongi—just fuck me."

Something broke in him then.

With a guttural sound, he aligned himself and pushed inside, the stretch of him stealing the air from your lungs. He didn't stop, didn't hesitate—just drove forward, sinking deep until he was fully sheathed inside you until there was no space between you, nothing left but the overwhelming, consuming feel of him.

"Fuck," Yoongi gritted out, his forehead dropping to yours. His hands flexed against your thighs like he was trying to hold himself back, to give you a moment. "So fucking tight."

You could barely breathe, barely think, pleasure and pain and something deeper rolling through you in waves. But then he shifted, just slightly, and—

"Oh fuck," you gasped, your head falling back against the wall.

Yoongi's grip tightened, his breath hot against your skin. "Yeah?" He rolled his hips again, slow and deliberate, dragging himself out before thrusting back in, harder this time. Your moan was wrecked, broken—exactly what he wanted.

"Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me," he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, across your collarbone. "Taking me so fucking well."

Then he moved. Snapping his hips as hard as he could to make your back rub against the wall, to make your head spin from the bouncing on his thick cock that made you see so many constellations. Up and down, up and down. He felt so good inside you, filling you completely as his hips slammed against yours.

The force of his thrust made you cry out, your fingers tangled in his dark raven hair, which you so openly adored when he kept longer. His mouth crashed down on yours, swallowing your moans as he drove into you with a fierce intensity, each stroke building on the last.

His hand cupped your breast and his thumb brushed over your nipple. The touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the fierce way he was driving into you. Your back arched, pushing your breast further into his hand, and you felt his fingers close around it, squeezing softly. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and you moaned loudly, the sound lost in the kiss that still claimed your mouth. Yoongi's hips kept moving, each thrust building on the last, and his hand on your breast seemed to be pulling you closer to some unseen edge. His fingers tightened around your nipple, rolling it between them, and you felt yourself teetering on the brink of something explosive.

Yoongi groaned, his grip almost bruising now, his thrusts turning erratic. "You gonna come for me again?" he rasped, his hips thrusting into you harder, each one was met with your breath hitching in your throat before you moaned. Loud.

"Gonna fall apart on my cock?"

It was too much—too good.

"I know what you want, love. What will make you cum around my cock."

Your body began to tense, your muscles coiling tighter and tighter as he spoke. "You want it rough," he growled, his thrusts becoming more savage, more primal.

"You want me to take you apart, piece by piece." His grip on your breast tightened, his fingers digging deep into your skin, and you felt yourself spiralling out of control.

His hand left your breast to envelope around your throat, his fingers wrapping tightly around your neck, his thumb pressing against the underside of your jaw. That was it. Your moans got even louder and he raised a brow. You felt a flutter in your chest as his grip tightened, his eyes burning with an intense hunger as he gazed into yours and he slowed down to observe your face that certainly did not hide any pleasure.

"Kinky," he rasped, his voice low and dirty. "So fucking kinky."

He held you in place, his grip on your throat tightening ever so slightly, he began to move his hips again, his cock stirring back to life inside you. His eyes burned with an intense desire, and you could feel the tension building in his body as he drove into you with slow, deliberate strokes.

"I'm going to fill you up, babe" he growled, his voice low and husky. "I'm going to make you take every last drop of me." And with that, he began to thrust into you harder again, faster again, his hips pounding against yours as he chased your release. You felt him swelling inside you, his cock growing thicker and hotter as he approached the edge.

Your orgasm crashed into you, and you could not even stop it. You wanted this to last until your body shuts down from all that pleasure he has given you. Your body locking up as pleasure burns through every nerve ending. You clenched around him, drawing a strangled moan from his lips, his hips snapping forward one last time before he broke. His release spilt deep inside you as he let out a low, guttural groan, his semen erupting into you in a hot, pulsing flood that warmed your walls. You felt him shudder and convulse above you, his body trembling with pleasure as he emptied himself into your waiting flesh

The sensation was overwhelming, the feeling of being filled and claimed by him almost too much to bear. His chest heaving with exertion and for a moment, neither of you moved.

"You're so fucking mine," he murmured, voice still thick with satisfaction. He lifted his head to meet your lips once more before he said.

"Don't you ever question my devotion for you—" he started, panting after the little stunt you just pulled. 

“—Or the size of my cock, doll.” 

You only smiled wickedly into his lips. 

“You like us role-playing, tho—“ you started. Yoongi's grip on your waist tightened, his lips brushing over your collarbone as his breath warmed your skin. His hand slid lower, fingers tracing the curve of your body possessively. 

"He could not stop talking about it the whole fucking night, babe."

"Who, Jimin?" he asked, his tone dripping with amusement, yet there was an underlying tension in it, like he was trying to keep himself in check to not turn you over and fuck you in the ass. Even though he had to thank Jimin for this fuck prompt he unknowingly gave you an idea of (such a mundane trope) and the final ride you two just had. The thanking will wait until whenever you decide you want Jimin to know about you two.

Of course, something similar happened at the start of your relationship and you could not help yourself to let him fuck you against that wall once again. This time with a similar scenario but slightly adjusted replicas.

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh, though it was edged with a hint of frustration. You shifted under his touch, your heart still racing from the intensity of the night.

"Yeah. Couldn't stop about how people talk about us fucking our brains out here—"

"But we are—" his voice thick with the weight of his meaning, but his tone now softer than before. His mouth pressed against the sensitive skin just below your ear, and his hands pulled you closer, if that was even possible, as if to remind you of just how much he could claim you again and again and again.

You gasped, your body reacting to him in ways you couldn't control, and you felt a rush of vulnerability, knowing how deeply he could read you. "Yoongi," you breathed, trying to keep your composure, but he wasn't making it easy.

"Yeah, you can say that again," Yoongi whispered, his lips brushing against your ear before his teeth grazed the lobe, making your entire body shudder.

You swallowed hard, your head spinning. "I'm serious," you managed to say, even though your voice came out shaky. "Jimin—he thinks I'm still under that dry spell cuz' everybody thinks we're doing it—"

"Let him yap, love."

"Yeah I would, but he went to a point where he talked about how I'm gonna need to buy that Tesla robot to fuck me cuz' no living man will, thanks to you and your not-so-subtle hints that we're doing it—"

"My not-so-subtle hints?" He chuckled.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, feeling a mixture of amusement and frustration. "I mean, he was kinda making some good points," you teased, pretending to think it over. "We do have that whole 'will they, won't they' vibe going on."

Yoongi's fingers paused against your skin for a moment, as if he were considering your words, but then a slow, mischievous smirk crept onto his lips.

"What do you think, babe?"

"I—I think," you stammered, feeling the weight of the moment sink in, "I think we could've been doing a better damn good job of hiding it. But maybe—" You hesitated, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

"Maybe it's time we stop pretending."

"Well, next time Jimin mentions our 'vibe,' I'm making him listen to a few of our 'studio sessions.'"

Your eyes widened in mock horror. "Yoongi!" You gave him a dramatic shiver, and he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you.

"Exactly," Yoongi said, smirking mischievously. "That'll shut him up real quick."

"Good luck," you teased, tapping his chest lightly. "Maybe he'll start talking about how lucky you are to have me in your corner."

"Lucky, huh?" he mused, pulling you in for a hug. "You're damn right I'm lucky."

You grinned, enjoying the easy banter, letting the tension slip away as you let him hold you. It wasn't about proving anything to anyone—it was just the two of you, sharing this moment, enjoying each other's company and, of course, having a little fun at Jimin's expense.

"Wait—" you just realised.

"You know about my smutty books?!"

He threw his head back and gave a loud throat laugh in response.

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

lots of love, p.

[jincapableoflove]

A Jar Full of Us | one-shot

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: best friend! jungkook, best friend! reader, college! au, unrequited love (?), idiots to lovers, best friends to ??? to lovers, angst, fluff, implied smut.

Summary: You never meant for him to find them. Hundred little confessions, folded away, never meant to be read. But now, they’re in his hands. And Jungkook—your best friend—knows everything. But he doesn’t say a word. He just watches you, with that same unreadable expression, like he’s waiting for something. And this Valentine’s Day, you might just have to find out what.

Inspired by: To All the Boys I've Loved Before

Word count: 10.2K+

Warnings: arguments, jungkook is a jerk, misunderstandings (a lottt of it), angstttt, reader and jk are huge idiots, mutual pining, implied smut (its not too detailed so that the story maintains the emotional connectivity), romantic intimacy, tooth-rotting fluff.

MOODBOARD

A/N: HERE IT ISSS! this is the longest fic ive written! tysm for all the support yall have given me in the teaser of this fic. i put out a taglist thinking no one would actually want to be a part of it but so many of yall asked to be tagged 😭 im so grateful! tysm i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writng it. lmk ur thoughts abt it after u read too <3 ALSO HAPPY VALENTINES DAYYY (someone date me pls)

The door clicks shut behind you as you step into the dorm, kicking off your shoes with a tired sigh. The evening air still clings to your skin, carrying traces of laughter and the lingering warmth of Jungkook’s presence.

It had been another perfect night—one filled with inside jokes, stolen bites of each other’s food, and his usual exasperated attempts to get you to study.

Joy, your roommate, is nowhere in sight, giving you the solitude you need. You don’t hesitate. Your steps are purposeful as you cross the room, crouching down beside your bed. With practiced ease, you reach under the frame, fingers brushing against the familiar surface of a small pink, heart-shaped box. You pull it out carefully, as if it were a fragile secret, and place it on your lap.

A soft breath escapes you as you grab a nearby pen and a book, neatly tearing out a tiny slip of paper. The motion is second nature now. Without even thinking, you let your emotions spill onto the paper, crafting a fleeting moment into something permanent.

Tonight’s memory is simple, but it still tugs at your heart. Jungkook had sent you another blurry picture of the moon, captioned with a casual, “Looks kinda pretty, right?” He knew how much you loved the moon—how it fascinated you in a way you could never quite put into words. And he had remembered. Of course, he had remembered.

A fond smile tugs at your lips as you write:

Jungkook remembers the little things.

Once the ink dries, you fold the note with care and add it to the collection. The box is almost full now, brimming with countless tiny confessions—whispers of feelings you’ve never had the courage to say aloud. A hundred little moments, a hundred little thoughts, all dedicated to the boy who had unknowingly stolen your heart.

Jungkook.

Jungkook, your best friend, who always saves you the last bite of his food, even when it’s his favorite. Jungkook, who sends you blurry pictures of the moon just because he knows you love them. Jungkook, who insists on studying with you, despite his major being entirely different from yours, just so he can make sure you actually open a book instead of procrastinating.

This little tradition of yours had started as a joke. One night, after an especially soft moment where Jungkook had wordlessly placed his hoodie over your head because you were shivering, you had scribbled on a piece of paper: Jungkook is warmer than the sun.

You had smiled to yourself as you rolled up the paper and dropped it into the box. It had felt oddly nice—preserving that moment, capturing the feeling of it in something tangible. So you did it again. And again. And again.

Until, one day, you realized you had written over a hundred of them.

You hadn’t meant to fall in love. And you certainly hadn’t planned to confess.

But each tiny slip of paper holds a truth your heart refuses to say aloud.

And you're going to keep it a secret forever.

You met Jungkook almost three years ago, during freshman year. The first time you met him, he had been infuriatingly kind.

You had been struggling under the weight of a precariously tall stack of books, barely able to see over them, when suddenly, a few disappeared from the top. Startled, you looked up to see Jungkook grinning at you, effortlessly holding the books you had nearly dropped.

"You looked like you were about to tip over," he teased, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement.

With a playful huff, you had responded, "Maybe I wanted it to tip over."

Jungkook had only laughed, shaking his head. "I'll catch you next time," he had promised.

That night, you had written a tiny note and slipped it into your box: He wants to catch me when I fall, even without me asking.

From that moment on, your friendship grew in ways you hadn’t even noticed at first. Midnight walks and late-night study sessions became routine, pulling you closer together with every shared moment. What had started as swapping notes for the one class you had together turned into sharing secrets. Somewhere along the way, before you even realized it, Jungkook had become your favorite person.

The box was almost full now.

You had written so many things over the years, each note capturing a small piece of him, a fragment of your feelings. Some were simple observations:

Jungkook frowns when he eats something delicious.

His hair is always a mess in the mornings. He hates it, but I love it.

His eyes smile before his lips do.

But one night, you had written something different. Something deeper. Something that felt like the truest thing you had ever put to paper.

I love him.

The moment the ink dried, panic had set in. You had almost torn it up, almost removed it from the box as if keeping it there would somehow make it real. But in the end, you had left it. Because the box was safe. No one was going to see it.

Especially not Jungkook.

One afternoon, you came back from your classes, ready to relax and unwind before the stress of exams fully set in. You had been looking forward to a quiet evening, maybe even a movie marathon with Jungkook to take your mind off things for a while.

But the moment you stepped into your dorm, you felt something was off.

Joy was sitting on the couch, sipping her coffee, her expression smug—too smug. A knowing smirk curled at the corners of her lips as she watched you walk in, and instantly, your stomach twisted with unease.

You narrowed your eyes. "What did you do?"

"I did you a favor," she said casually, taking another slow sip of her coffee.

A cold shiver ran down your spine. "What favor?" you asked, dread creeping into your voice.

Joy grinned. "I found that little cute box of yours."

Your heart stopped. "What?"

"Don't look at me like that," she waved a hand dismissively, as if what she was about to say wasn’t about to shatter your entire world. "It was just sitting there collecting dust, and I thought—what a perfect Valentine's Day gift for Jungkook. So…I wrapped it up and dropped it off at his place."

Silence.

A deafening, all-consuming silence as her words echoed in your head.

"You WHAT?!"

Your entire body froze in place, your breath catching in your throat as horror washed over you in waves. Your chest felt tight, your pulse roaring in your ears.

Joy merely raised an eyebrow, seemingly unbothered by the sheer panic on your face. "You're welcome," she said cheekily—before promptly sprinting out of the room for her life.

But you couldn’t chase after her. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the ringing in your ears.

No. No. No.

This couldn't be happening.

Still desperate to deny the possibility, you dropped to your knees and scrambled to check under your bed, your hands shaking as you reached into the familiar space where you had hidden the box for years.

Empty.

It was gone.

The tiny wooden box that held a hundred little moments, a hundred little secrets—your secrets—was gone.

And now it was in Jungkook's hands.

Of all people…Jungkook.

Jungkook lived in an apartment a little further away from your dorm. The second the realization hit, you bolted out the door without a second thought, heart pounding so hard it nearly drowned out the sound of your footsteps against the pavement.

Your plan was simple—get to his apartment before he did. You knew his habits well enough to guess that he was probably grabbing a late lunch at that fast-food place near campus. If luck was on your side, you still had time.

He hadn’t seen it yet.

He couldn’t have seen it yet.

As you ran, your mind spiraled into chaos, bombarding you with every possible scenario—each one worse than the last.

What if he had already opened it?

What if he read through every single note?

What if he found the one that said I love him?

Your stomach twisted painfully at the thought.

Jungkook was your best friend.

He was your person.

And now, he might know that you wanted to be more than just friends.

The mere thought made your chest tighten as memories of the two of you flashed through your mind. The times you spent together at the arcade, the countless movie nights, the time you and Jungkook had crashed Jimin’s birthday party with a ridiculous amount of booze.

And then…there was that moment.

The moment you almost confessed.

"I wish I could find someone who truly understood me," he had said one night, his voice softer than usual, lost in thought.

And you had almost said it. The words had been on the tip of your tongue, so painfully close—"I do."

But you swallowed them down.

Because what if he didn’t feel the same way? What if saying those words ruined everything?

And now, thanks to Joy, you didn’t have a choice anymore. The truth was out there, sitting in a neatly wrapped box in Jungkook’s apartment.

The thought of his reaction sent your mind into overdrive.

Would he laugh?

Would he think it was weird?

Would he—

Would he reject you?

No. No. No.

You shook your head violently as you rounded the corner, lungs burning from the sprint. You’re going to get there before he does. You’re going to take the box back, and he’s never going to know about it.

That was the plan.

It had to work.

As soon as you reached Jungkook’s apartment building, you barely paused to catch your breath. Your legs ached from running, but panic kept you moving. You made a beeline for the mailbox section in the lobby, frantically scanning the names, searching for his.

Box 109.

You yanked it open.

Empty.

Your stomach sank.

Maybe his roommate took it upstairs? Yeah. That had to be it. Maybe it was sitting untouched on the kitchen counter, still wrapped, still safe, still unseen.

You latched onto that sliver of hope as you rushed up the stairs two at a time, unwilling to wait for the elevator. By the time you reached his floor, your hands were shaking. You raised a fist and knocked on the door, urgency making your knuckles sting.

No response.

You knocked again, harder this time.

Then—finally—you heard shuffling from inside. A few footsteps. The creak of the floorboards. A pause.

The door swung open.

And there he was.

Jungkook.

Standing right in front of you, framed in the dim light of his apartment, wearing an oversized grey hoodie that draped over his frame in a way that shouldn't have been so unfairly attractive. His dark hair was slightly damp, messy from a shower, strands falling into his eyes. His lips were parted in surprise, his brows slightly furrowed, and the expression on his face—confused yet soft, dangerously soft—made your already erratic heartbeat lurch violently.

But then, your gaze dropped to his hands.

And the world stopped.

The box.

The open box.

Your box.

Your secret, sacred collection of unsent confessions, of words meant only for the safety of your own solitude. The pieces of your heart you had never dared to show him.

You felt like you were going to be sick.

No, no, no, no—

"You—" You gasped, barely able to form words, chest rising and falling rapidly as you fought for air. "You opened it?"

Jungkook blinked, holding the box loosely in one hand, fingers curled around the edges as if he had been going through its contents just moments ago. He tilted his head, his expression unreadable.

"Yeah," he said simply, as if the weight of the universe hadn’t just come crashing down on you.

Oh. Oh no.

Your legs wobbled. You had to physically stop yourself from collapsing right there in front of him.

His gaze flickered downward, and you followed it instinctively. In his other hand, he held one of the notes. One of your notes. The handwriting was unmistakably yours, a little smudged, a little rushed, but still legible.

He cleared his throat, then read aloud.

"I don’t know when it happened. But one day, he became my favorite person."

Silence.

It stretched on for what felt like an eternity.

You thought you might actually pass out.

"Jungkook, I—" Your voice cracked, but before you could even attempt to explain, he looked up and met your eyes.

And then, to your absolute horror—

He smiled.

Not a teasing smirk, not an awkward grimace, but a real, genuine, knowing smile. A little shy, a little amused, as if the weight of what he had just discovered didn’t terrify him nearly as much as it did you.

And then—oh god—he spoke again.

"So… do you still think my hair looks best when it’s messy?"

Your breath hitched.

Your brain went blank.

You wanted to scream.

The change was almost instant.

In the days that followed, Jungkook became… different.

Not in the way you had imagined, though.

You had been bracing yourself for a talk—a conversation where he’d tell you gently, maybe even apologetically, that he didn’t feel the same way. Or, at the very least, a moment of awkwardness before things slowly went back to normal.

But instead, Jungkook just… pulled away.

It started subtly at first. He stopped texting as much. The late-night calls that once lasted for hours dwindled into one-word replies and seen messages. The casual lunch meetups, the spontaneous arcade runs, the easy, natural way he used to gravitate towards you in a crowded room—all of it changed.

And yet, despite the distance, he never fully let you go.

Instead, he turned it into a joke.

Like today, when he leaned in—far too close for comfort—during your shared class. His voice was low, teasing, the warmth of his breath fanning against your ear.

"So, I’m warmer than the sun, huh?"

You stiffened instantly, your hands tightening around your pen. He pulled back with a smirk, his dark eyes glittering with mischief as he watched your reaction unfold in real-time.

It was unbearable.

He kept doing it.

Whenever you tried to talk to him—really talk to him—he would either dodge the conversation entirely or turn it into something lighthearted, something unserious.

Like the time you finally found him alone, determined to just get it over with, to ask what had changed between you two. Before you could even get the words out, he cut you off with another one of those smirks, his voice laced with amusement.

"So I look best in black? Good to know."

And then he walked away.

That was when you finally got the message.

Jungkook had taken it as a joke.

He didn’t care about your feelings.

It was like the caring, affectionate boy you had known for years had vanished the moment your heart had been laid bare. Like now that the truth was out in the open, he didn’t know how to handle it—so he chose to mock it instead.

And worst of all?

He was pulling away from you completely.

The time you used to spend together? Gone. He was hanging out with other people now, filling his days with anyone but you. And when you did manage to cross paths, he only acknowledged you through those insufferable little comments, those cruel reminders of the things you had never meant for him to see.

It hurt. More than you wanted to admit.

Because maybe—just maybe—you had hoped that if he knew how you felt…

He wouldn’t push you away like this.

The next week brought the on-campus career fair—an event mandatory for all students. You weren’t particularly excited about it, but at least it was a distraction, something to keep your mind occupied.

Or so you thought.

Because that’s when you saw him.

And he wasn’t alone.

He was walking around with Hana, a junior from your college. They moved easily through the crowd, side by side, completely immersed in conversation. And then, to make things even worse—he laughed.

A real laugh. The kind that made his nose scrunch up and his eyes crinkle, the kind you hadn’t heard in what felt like forever.

Your stomach twisted.

You weren’t expecting him to make it this obvious.

If he wanted to reject you, fine. If he didn’t feel the same way, you could live with that. But did he really have to parade it around like this?

Maybe this was his way of sending a message. Maybe he wanted you to know, without actually having to say it out loud.

A silent rejection.

What a jerk.

These days, you barely have the motivation to attend classes. You go through the motions—waking up, dragging yourself to campus, sitting through lectures—but your mind isn’t really there.

Because no matter how hard you try to distract yourself, the brutal reality of rejection lingers like a shadow, following you everywhere you go.

Jungkook threw away your feelings like they meant nothing.

You should have expected it, right? You should have known this was how it would turn out.

Maybe you were never meant to be anything more than a friend to him. Maybe, the moment he realized you held deeper feelings for him, he got scared. Or worse—maybe he just didn’t care at all.

The thought makes your chest ache.

Jungkook has always been a romantic at heart. You’ve seen it in the way he talks about love, in the way he watches romance movies with a dreamy look in his eyes. But clearly, you were never part of that dream.

And now, because of your stupid feelings, you’ve ruined everything.

You used to be his best friend. The one he joked around with, the one he trusted, the one he leaned on.

But now?

Now he barely looks at you.

And if he does, it's only to throw some teasing remark your way—like your feelings were some kind of joke.

The person you were most angry at was Joy.

Not Jungkook. Not yourself.

Joy.

Because none of this would have happened if she had just left that damn box alone.

That day after the box incident, the moment you stepped back into your dorm, she was there, lounging on the couch like nothing had happened. She glanced up as you walked in, a smirk already forming on her lips.

“I didn’t expect you to come back so early. I thought you guys would—” she wiggled her eyebrows—“get freaky after the whole confession, you know?”

She laughed, expecting you to groan or throw a pillow at her like usual.

But then she saw your face.

Her laughter faded. “Wait… what happened?”

You didn’t answer. You just walked past her and sank into the couch, staring at nothing, your mind still replaying every moment from earlier—Jungkook’s teasing, his smirk, his distance.

You heard Joy shuffle closer, her voice softer now. “I… I’m sorry. Did I send the gift too early? Did Jungkook not like it?”

You let out a hollow laugh. “Oh, no, he loved it.” You turned to her, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you so much for your help, Joy.”

Her expression faltered. “Wait… what do you mean?”

You shook your head, exhaling sharply. “Jungkook probably thinks I’m pathetic now.”

Joy winced. She sat beside you on the couch, guilt written all over her face. “I— I really thought—” she hesitated, chewing on her lip. “I was so sure, though. That boy always had heart eyes for you.”

You let out a bitter chuckle. “Well, now you know he didn’t.”

Silence settled between you both.

And for the first time, Joy didn’t have anything to say.

The next time you see Jungkook, he’s with Hana again.

They’re standing by one of the campus notice boards, deep in conversation. You don’t mean to eavesdrop—you’re not even sure why you stop—but the moment you hear them talking, something in your gut tells you to listen.

Hana tilts her head, her voice low but clear. “Are you sure she won't find out?”

Jungkook sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know… Maybe it's better this way”

Your breath catches in your throat.

Your first instinct is denial—maybe they’re not talking about you. Maybe it’s about someone else entirely. But deep down, you know.

As far as you’re aware, there isn’t another she in Jungkook’s life. Not before. Not when you were still close.

You’ve already been replaced.

Your chest aches as you piece it together. He doesn't want you to find out—because he's probably in a relationship with Hana now. Because he doesn’t want to hurt you with a direct rejection, he thinks hiding his relationship with her is the kinder option.

It isn’t.

You swallow the lump in your throat and force yourself to step back, turning away from the scene before you can hear any more.

You decide then—no matter how much it hurts, no matter how pathetic it makes you feel—you can’t bear being apart from Jungkook.

Even if he doesn’t love you back.

Even if he only sees you as a friend.

Losing him completely? That’s not something you’re ready for. Maybe you never will be.

So, you do the only thing you can think of.

You wait for him after class.

Your heart pounds against your ribs as you watch the door, your hands clammy with nerves. When Jungkook finally steps out, your breath catches. He looks the same—same hoodie, same soft brown eyes—but everything feels different now.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward.

"I get it, okay?" you say, voice firm despite the way your throat tightens. "You don’t like me. And that’s fine. I hope she makes you happy."

Jungkook halts mid-step.

His jaw clenches. His fists curl at his sides.

"You don’t understand," he mutters.

"Then make me understand, Jungkook," you plead. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to keep going, even as your last shred of dignity slips through your fingers. "Can we still be friends, at least?"

Silence.

Jungkook doesn’t reply.

And somehow, that hurts more than rejection ever could.

There's a party happening, hosted by one of the biggest party animals on campus. Everyone is invited, and Joy insists that you go.

After much convincing, you finally give in. You've mended things with her—finally forgiven her. Maybe it wasn’t entirely her fault. Maybe you just needed someone to blame.

You decide to go, hoping for a distraction. Maybe the music, the drinks, and the endless chatter will help you forget, even if just for a night.

But you already know Jungkook will be there.

Probably Hana too.

And that's fine.

You'll just stay out of their way.

The party is in full swing when you arrive—loud music, flashing lights, bodies moving wildly on the dance floor, and the unmistakable smell of booze in the air. Bottles are being passed around, and the energy is electric.

A few friends from your classes spot you and pull you in, offering drinks. You take them all without hesitation, reaching for the strongest ones, letting the alcohol burn away the ache in your chest.

Jungkook is nowhere in sight.

Good. Maybe he didn’t come. Maybe you can actually enjoy yourself tonight.

With the alcohol settling in, your limbs feel lighter, your mind a little hazy. You dance to the outdated playlist blaring through the speakers, laugh with strangers, and let yourself let go—just for a while.

But after some time, it all feels like too much. The heat, the noise, the overwhelming buzz in your veins. You slip away from the crowd and make your way to the rooftop, breathing in the crisp night air, letting it cool your flushed skin.

And then you sense it—someone else's presence.

You turn, your head spinning slightly, and there he is.

Jungkook.

You blink, wondering if you're imagining him, but his gaze is fixed on you, a slight furrow between his brows. There's something like concern in his expression as he watches you, taking in your drunken state.

Your heart stumbles in your chest.

The alcohol makes everything feel lighter—your body, your thoughts, your inhibitions. So when you see Jungkook standing there, looking at you with that unreadable expression, the words just spill out before you can stop them.

“I liked you, you know,” you mumble, swaying slightly. “But now I realize… I was just wasting my time.”

Jungkook doesn’t react. No apology, no denial, not even a flicker of emotion across his face.

He just exhales softly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’ll be fine,” he says simply, then turns on his heel and walks away.

Just like that.

The cool night air suddenly feels suffocating, the weight in your chest heavier than ever. You watch his retreating figure, your heart shattering all over again.

The next morning, you wake up with the nastiest headache ever. Your head throbs, your mouth is dry, and your body feels like it’s been wrung out. You groan, forcing yourself to sit up as the hazy memories from last night slowly piece themselves together.

Jungkook. The rooftop. The way he just… walked away like he didn’t care.

You shake the thought from your mind, dragging yourself out of bed. There’s no point dwelling on it. Your exams are approaching, and you need to focus.

Deciding to get some studying done, you head to the library. The quiet atmosphere should help clear your head—or at least distract you from the mess that is your life.

But the moment you step inside, your breath catches.

Jungkook is sitting at the table you both used to frequent, completely absorbed in scribbling something into a notebook. For a second, you consider turning around, but then something catches your eye.

He rips out a small piece of paper, folds it neatly, and—without hesitation—slips it into a glass jar sitting beside him.

Your heart clenches.

Is it for Hana?

You don’t stick around to find out. Before Jungkook can notice you, you turn on your heel and walk away.

February 10th. Your birthday.

You wake up with a small flicker of hope. Maybe today would be different. Maybe Jungkook had been ignoring you all this time because he was planning something—some kind of surprise. That had to be it, right?

Surely.

So you wait.

By 3 PM, your phone is filled with messages—friends, family, even distant relatives reaching out to wish you. Everyone but Jungkook.

Not even a single text.

The hope that had carried you through the day starts to crumble, replaced by a hollow ache in your chest. You don’t go to class. What’s the point? This might just be the worst birthday ever.

That’s when Joy bursts into your room with a grin.

"You got a package!" she announces, holding out a neatly wrapped box.

Your heart leaps.

Jungkook?

You rush over, fingers fumbling as you tear open the wrapping—only for your stomach to drop.

It’s from your parents.

Disappointment washes over you, but you push it aside. They went through the trouble of sending you something, and you should be grateful. You take a deep breath, forcing a smile as you pick up your phone and call them.

"Thank you," you say, voice steady. Because at least someone remembered.

There was still time.

It was only evening—plenty of hours left before midnight. Jungkook would surely text before then. He had to.

Joy, noticing your gloomy mood, tries to lift your spirits. "Come on, let’s go out drinking. Have some fun, at least for your birthday."

But you shake your head. "I’m not in the mood."

She sighs, clearly frustrated but doesn’t push you. Instead, she flops onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. "I hate this," she mutters. "I hate seeing you like this. And I hate him for treating you this way."

Her voice is laced with anger, but there’s something else there too—guilt.

Because deep down, Joy still blames herself.

If she hadn’t sent that gift early, if she hadn’t tried to play cupid, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out this way. Maybe you wouldn’t be spending your birthday like this—waiting for a boy who might never come around.

Jungkook didn’t text that day.

He forgot your birthday.

You waited all day, checking your phone every few minutes, hoping for a message that never came. Midnight passed, and still—nothing.

The realization settles deep in your chest, heavier than you expected. You feel pathetic.

Pathetic for hoping. Pathetic for waiting. Pathetic for still caring.

It’s the day before Valentine’s Day.

You can’t afford to miss any more classes. You haven’t stepped foot on campus since your birthday, but today, you decide to go.

You have no motivation to see or talk to anyone. You tell yourself that you’ll just quietly attend your classes and head straight back home. No distractions. No unnecessary interactions.

But as soon as you reach campus, you notice a crowd gathering. There’s some kind of matchmaking event happening for Valentine’s Day tomorrow.

Great. Just great.

Everything about it feels like the universe is mocking you, rubbing salt on an already raw wound. Heart-shaped decorations, pink confetti floating in the air, and couples laughing—completely oblivious to how suffocating it feels for you.

You try to move past the crowd, but suddenly, someone pushes forward, and you get caught in the chaos. You stumble, losing your balance—bracing for impact—

But you don’t hit the ground.

Because Jungkook catches you.

His hands grip your arms, steadying you out of instinct. His touch is firm and warm, familiar in a way that makes your chest ache.

For the first time in days, you look up at him. And for the first time in days, he looks right back at you.

He doesn’t let go of you immediately.

His grip stays firm, his fingers pressing into your arms like he’s grounding himself, like he’s hesitating. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his lips parting slightly—like he’s about to say something.

The music playing in the background fades into a distant hum. Everything around you slows. The laughter, the chatter, the festival lights—it all blurs.

All that’s left is him.

Still holding you.

Your voice barely comes out, a whisper against the space between you.

“Do you even care, Jungkook?”

His hands tighten for a fraction of a second. His jaw clenches. And for a brief, fleeting moment, you think you see something—something raw and unspoken flash through his eyes.

But then, like a switch flipping, he lets go.

So fast that you nearly stumble again.

"No, Y/N. I don’t."

His words cut through the air, sharp and merciless.

Then he turns. Walks away.

And you’re left standing there, alone in the middle of a festival meant for love.

This is it.

This is your answer.

Jungkook has made his choice.

And now, it’s time for you to make yours.

You have to move on.

That night, you decide—Jungkook was never meant to be yours.

It’s a painful truth, one you’ve been avoiding, but tonight, you accept it.

Needing a distraction, you start clearing out your closet, pulling out old clothes, forgotten trinkets, anything to keep your hands busy. That’s when you see it.

The pink heart-shaped box.

Your breath hitches.

You had snatched it from his hands that day, barely able to meet his gaze before bolting out of his apartment and driving straight back to your dorm. You had shoved it deep into your closet, hoping that if you buried it away, you could bury your feelings too.

For a moment, you consider throwing it away. What’s the point of holding onto it now? Jungkook knows. He read the notes, saw every piece of your heart laid bare. And in the end, it changed nothing.

Your fingers tremble as you lift the lid.

One by one, you pull out the little folded papers, unfolding memories you once held so close.

"I don’t know when it happened, but one day, he became my favourite person."

"His laugh is my favorite sound."

"I wish he knew how much he means to me."

Tears blur your vision.

You never wanted him to know.

Because you never wanted to lose him.

And now, you have.

The weight of it crashes over you all at once, and before you can stop it, the tears spill over, hot and relentless.

You clutch the notes to your chest as silent sobs wrack your body.

You’ve been holding the pain in for too long.

So tonight, you let the dams break.

And you cry yourself to sleep.

It’s Valentine’s Day.

You feel miserable.

Forget having a Valentine this year—you don’t even have a best friend anymore.

So you stay in bed all day, buried under the covers, refusing to acknowledge the world outside.

Your mind drifts, unbidden, to last year’s Valentine’s Day.

You and Jungkook had gone out for dinner—not as lovers, not as anything more than friends, just two people who didn’t have dates. You remember how he laughed at the terrible restaurant music, how he stole fries from your plate like they were his.

You miss it.

No—wait. You shouldn’t be thinking about him.

Shaking off the thought, you grab your Nintendo Switch and start playing, trying to distract yourself.

Then the doorbell rings.

You ignore it. Joy is probably home—she’ll get it.

But it rings again.

What is Joy doing?

Then it hits you—she probably stayed over at her boyfriend’s place last night.

With a groan, you push off the covers and make your way to the door. You swing it open, ready to shoo away whoever it is—

But there’s no one there.

Your gaze drops to the ground.

And then you see it.

A singular jar, placed carefully on the doormat.

You stare at the jar, a strange sense of familiarity creeping in, but you can’t quite place it.

Where have you seen something like this before?

Your mind scrambles for an answer, flipping through memories like pages in a book, but nothing surfaces.

With hesitant fingers, you reach down and pick it up, feeling the cool glass against your palm. It’s heavier than you expected.

That’s when you notice the writing on the lid, scrawled in red marker.

"To Y/N."

Your heart stutters.

You blink, trying to steady your breath, but the moment feels unreal—like you’ve stepped into a dream.

It’s only then that you notice the jar is filled with tiny rolled-up notes, crammed inside like secrets waiting to be unraveled.

Your mind starts spiraling.

What is this? Who left it? Why does it have your name?

Your hands tremble as you twist the lid open, the slight pop of the seal echoing in the silence.

You reach inside, fingers brushing against the countless little slips of paper.

With bated breath, you pull one out.

You carefully unroll it, eyes scanning the words scribbled in rushed, familiar handwriting.

"I lied."

That’s all it says.

Two words.

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes trace the messy yet unmistakable handwriting.

Jungkook.

Your fingers tighten around the note as your pulse quickens.

It’s his.

The realization slams into you with a force that leaves you momentarily stunned.

Your breath turns shallow as the memory crashes into you—

Yesterday.

The crowd. The music. The overwhelming blur of people around you.

You had stumbled, nearly falling, only for Jungkook to catch you. For a fleeting moment, he held you close. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable.

You had searched his face, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you even care, Jungkook?"

You had wanted him to say yes. Even a little. Anything to make the ache in your chest feel less unbearable.

But instead—

"No, Y/N. I don’t."

His words had cut deeper than you ever thought possible.

And then he had let go. So fast, like touching you had burned him. Like you meant nothing at all.

You remember the way your heart had cracked, the way he had disappeared into the sea of people, leaving you stranded in the middle of a festival meant for love.

But now—

Now you stand here, gripping a jar full of his words.

"I lied."

Your hands fumble as you reach into the jar again, pulling out another note.

Unrolling it with shaky fingers, you read:

"I thought if I pushed you away, it’d be easier for you to move on. But the truth is, I don’t want you to."

A sharp pang strikes your chest.

Your mind reels, and suddenly, you're back at the rooftop party—drunk, vulnerable, spilling your heart out in slurred words.

“I liked you, you know? But now I realize I was just wasting my time.”

Jungkook had stood there, silent, unreadable, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

No apology. No denial. Nothing.

And then, just as effortlessly, he had turned away.

"You'll be fine," he'd said before walking off, leaving you alone in the cold night.

The memory burns like an open wound, and yet, here you are, standing in your doorway, holding the truth he should have told you that night in the palm of your hands.

Your fingers tremble as you pull out the next note.

"I missed your birthday on purpose because I wanted to give you something that lasts longer than a text."

Your breath hitches.

He didn’t forget?

He chose not to text?

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips, but it fades just as quickly as the weight of his words settles in.

You reach into the jar again, pulling out another note, heart pounding against your ribs.

What you didn’t know was—

Jungkook had spent hours writing your birthday note.

He had sat at his desk that night, a dozen crumpled papers around him, rewriting the same message over and over, never satisfied. His hands had been shaky when he finally folded the note and slipped it into the jar.

Because words were permanent.

Because he was afraid.

Because deep down, he knew—if he told you how much you really meant to him, he wouldn’t be able to push you away anymore.

And that terrified him.

Your grip on the jar tightens as you pull out the next note.

"I was scared you’d see me in the library that day. And you did. I almost stopped writing. But I wanted to finish this for you."

Your breath catches in your throat as a memory rushes back—

The library.

That afternoon, when you had finally dragged yourself back to campus to study for your exams, you had seen him sitting at your usual table, scribbling something into his notebook.

At the time, you thought nothing of it—until you watched him tear out a tiny slip of paper and slip it into a jar.

A jar.

The very same one you now hold in your trembling hands.

Back then, you had turned away, assuming it was for Hana.

But it wasn’t.

It was for you.

Every note in this jar was for you.

Your vision blurs as you stare down at the tiny rolled-up messages still waiting to be read.

He had been writing to you all along.

By the time you reach the last few notes, your hands are trembling. Maybe you can’t even read them through the tears clouding your vision. The weight of all those misunderstandings—every ignored confession, every painful silence, every moment you thought he didn’t care—crashes down on you all at once.

Your breath is uneven as you unroll another slip of paper.

"You thought I didn’t care. But I did. I always did."

A sob escapes your lips, the ache in your chest unbearable.

You clutch the jar against you like it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held—because it is. Because it’s him.

Every unspoken word. Every hidden feeling. Every truth he was too afraid to say aloud.

And now, you finally know.

Your breath catches as you reach the bottom of the jar, realizing the significance—there are exactly 100 notes, just like the box you once gave him.

With shaky hands, you pull out the 99th note.

“I was always bad at saying things out loud. So I wrote them instead. I just hope it’s not too late for you to read them.”

Your chest tightens.

You take a deep breath and reach for the last note, your fingers trembling. Slowly, you unroll it, heart pounding in your ears.

“Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

The paper almost slips from your fingers as your vision blurs with fresh tears. A shaky laugh escapes your lips, somewhere between disbelief and overwhelming emotion.

After everything, after all the silence, the pain, the misunderstandings—he’s finally saying it.

And suddenly, all that matters is what you’ll do next.

The moment the words register, you don’t think.

The jar nearly slips from your grasp as you scramble to your feet, your heartbeat hammering louder than the thoughts racing through your mind. Jungkook. He couldn’t have gone far—he must have just dropped it off.

You fling the door open, barefoot, barely even stopping to grab your keys. The cold air bites at your skin, but you don’t care. You sprint down the stairs, nearly stumbling in your rush to get outside.

Your eyes dart wildly around the street, your breath coming out in frantic puffs. Where is he?

Then, you see him.

A few feet away, Jungkook is walking slowly, hands in his pockets, head low like he’s already bracing for disappointment. Like he’s already convinced you won’t come after him.

But you do.

“Jungkook!”

He freezes.

You don’t stop running until you’re right in front of him, breathless, clutching the jar close to your chest like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the moment.

His eyes widen when he sees you—messy hair, no shoes, trembling hands still gripping his gift like it’s the most important thing in the world.

You swallow hard, voice shaking. “Did you mean it?”

Jungkook looks at you for a long moment, the night stretching between you like a fragile thread.

Then, barely above a whisper—“Yeah.”

Your chest heaves, breath uneven, voice shaking as you clutch the jar tighter.

"You absolute—jerk." Your voice wavers, but the anger, the hurt, the sheer weight of everything he’s put you through spills out in every word. "You sat there, letting me think I meant nothing to you. And the whole time, you were—" You shake the jar, almost laughing in disbelief. "—writing these?"

Jungkook doesn’t answer. He just stands there, hands stuffed in his pockets, jaw tight, like he’s bracing himself for whatever you’re about to say next.

"You could’ve just told me, Jungkook. You could’ve just—" You pause, gripping the jar like it’s the only thing holding you together. "Why? Why lie to me?"

He exhales sharply, his voice rough, like he’s been holding it in for too long.

"Because I was a coward."

You blink. You weren’t expecting him to admit it so easily.

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, looking away. "I thought pushing you away was the right thing to do. If I let you think I didn’t care, maybe you’d move on. Maybe you’d find someone who wouldn’t hurt you like I did."

Your throat tightens. Your fingers dig into the glass of the jar. "You were the one hurting me, Jungkook."

His eyes finally meet yours, and the weight of them almost knocks the air from your lungs. He looks wrecked.

"I know." His voice is barely above a whisper.

"Then why?" Your voice trembles, frustration bubbling over. "Why did you let me think I was chasing something that wasn’t even there?"

His jaw clenches, and for a second, he doesn’t answer. But then, his voice comes, low and raw.

"Because I was afraid you’d realize you deserved better."

Silence settles between you. A silence so thick it presses against your chest, making it hard to breathe.

You stare at him, your vision blurring. You should walk away. You should scream, cry—anything. But instead, you do the only thing you can think of.

You reach into the jar, grab a note at random, and shove it into his hand. "Read it."

Jungkook hesitates. Then, slowly, he unfolds the paper. His fingers tremble as he reads the words he once wrote.

"If I had been braver, I would’ve told you every single day how much you meant to me."

He sucks in a sharp breath, gripping the paper like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His eyes flick back up to yours, burning with something you can’t quite name.

"Say it now," you whisper.

Jungkook's breath catches. His grip on the note tightens like it’s the only thing keeping him together.

You wait. Trembling, heart pounding, eyes locked onto his. Daring him to finally, finally say it.

He exhales shakily. His voice is low, rough—like it hurts to speak, but he does anyway.

"Y/N…"

You don’t look away. Don’t let him run from this.

His throat bobs. His hand curls into a fist at his side, then slowly unclenches.

"I love you."

A sharp inhale cuts through you. Even though you were waiting for it, the words hit like a tidal wave.

Jungkook shakes his head, almost laughing, but there’s no humor in it—just raw, aching regret.

"I loved you then. I love you now. And I don’t think there’s a single version of me that won’t love you."

Your vision blurs, the weight of everything pressing down on you all at once.

"Then why—" your voice cracks, "—why did you let me think you didn’t?"

Jungkook exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. His face twists with something close to pain.

"Because I was scared." His voice is barely above a whisper. "Scared that if I let myself have you, I’d ruin you. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize I wasn’t worth it."

Your hands clench at your sides. "You don’t get to decide that for me."

He nods. Swallows hard. Takes a step closer.

"I know." His voice is softer now. "And if I could go back, I’d do it all differently. But I can’t. All I can do is stand here and tell you—"

Your lips crash into his, years of longing and heartbreak unraveling in a single, desperate moment. Your fingers fist into his jacket, pulling him closer, closing the distance like you’ve been waiting forever. Because you have.

Jungkook catches you. His arms wind tight around your waist, grounding you, anchoring you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away again. His grip is firm, unyielding, as if holding you is the only thing that makes sense anymore.

The kiss isn’t soft—it’s frantic, raw, filled with all the words you never got to say. It’s a confession, an apology, a plea. His lips move against yours with urgency, pouring everything into it, like he’s trying to make up for every second he spent pushing you away.

Jungkook tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and a shiver runs through you as his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch. His other hand spreads against your back, pressing you impossibly closer, like even this isn’t enough, like he’d fuse you together if he could.

You melt. Every wall you built, every ounce of anger, every misunderstanding—crumbling, dissolving into the heat of him. The way he kisses you feels like an answer to a question you didn’t know you were asking. Like a promise.

When you finally pull apart, neither of you lets go.

Jungkook rests his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours, still uneven, still shaken. His hands remain on your waist like he’s afraid that the second he lets go, this will all disappear.

Your fingers stay curled in his shirt, gripping the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

His voice is raw when he finally speaks, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t deserve you.”

You exhale, shaking your head, the weight of everything still pressing against your chest. Your voice is quiet, but steady. “Then spend every day proving that you do.”

Jungkook lets out a soft laugh—one that sounds broken and real, like he can’t believe he’s still allowed to have this moment with you.

“Deal,” he murmurs.

And then he kisses you again.

The door barely clicks shut before Jungkook is on you again, his hands framing your face as his lips crash into yours. There’s no hesitation now, no careful restraint—only heat, only the raw, aching need that’s been simmering between you for far too long.

His body presses against yours, pushing you back into the door, and you gasp against his lips. He swallows the sound, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping over yours with slow, deliberate intent. He tastes like something addictive—like want, like longing, like the kind of hunger that makes your stomach tighten and your knees go weak.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer. His hands roam down, slipping under the hem of your shirt, fingertips skimming along your bare skin. His touch is scorching, leaving a trail of fire wherever he moves. He pauses, his breath ragged, lips barely brushing yours.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, voice rough, uneven.

You shake your head, tilting your chin up until your lips ghost over his again. "I don’t want you to stop."

The words break something inside him.

His mouth crashes onto yours again, hungrier this time, more desperate. His hands slide up your back, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the hard lines of his body, the way his chest rises and falls unsteadily against yours. One hand grips your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you shudder, while the other slides lower, gripping your thigh and hitching it up against his hip.

A quiet moan escapes you at the feeling, and he groans in response, pressing harder into you. His lips leave yours, trailing a path down your jaw, to the sensitive spot beneath your ear, where he lingers. His teeth scrape lightly against your skin before he soothes it with his tongue, sucking gently, enough to make you arch into him, enough to make your breath hitch.

"Jungkook—" His name leaves your lips in a breathless whisper, and he exhales sharply against your skin, like the sound is enough to undo him.

His grip tightens as he lifts you effortlessly, hands settling under your thighs. Instinct takes over, and your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you across the room. He lays you down on the bed with care, but there’s nothing careful about the way he follows you down, covering your body with his own.

He hovers above you, his breath warm against your lips, his dark eyes searching yours. His thumb brushes over your cheek, then lower, tracing the curve of your bottom lip, his touch unbearably light.

"You’re sure?" he whispers, voice thick with something heady.

Your only answer is a whispered "Yes," breathless, certain.

Something shifts in him at your words. His lips find yours again, but this time, he takes his time—exploring, savoring, as if he wants to memorize every inch of you. His kisses trail downward, along the curve of your neck, across your collarbone, his mouth mapping out a path of heat and sensation. His hands move with just as much purpose, slipping under fabric, pushing it aside, fingers tracing bare skin with an intimacy that makes your pulse stutter.

Every brush of his lips, every slow, deliberate touch sends waves of electricity through you, igniting something deep and primal. Clothes are discarded in slow, teasing movements, the heat between you building with every layer that falls away.

His lips ghost over your shoulder, down your arm, over the curve of your breasts, his breath hot and uneven. He watches you, eyes dark with something intense, something almost reverent, as his fingers trace slow, lazy patterns along your bare skin.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmurs, voice filled with something deeper than desire.

You reach for him, pulling him back up, needing his mouth on yours again, needing more. He obliges, kissing you fiercely, like he never wants to stop, like this moment has been waiting to happen for far too long.

His hands explore moving towards your heat, his touch reverent yet possessive, like he’s memorizing every inch of you, like he’s making up for all the lost time. You arch into him, breath hitching, hands gripping onto his shoulders as heat coils low in your stomach.

"Jungkook," you whisper, his name falling from your lips like a plea.

His breath catches, and he exhales shakily. "I’ve got you," he murmurs against your skin, voice barely above a whisper. "I’m right here."

And then there’s no more talking—only movement, only passion, only the feeling of finally, finally being exactly where you both belong.

The air is thick with warmth, bodies tangled beneath the sheets, hearts pounding in tandem as the last echoes of your shared breaths settle between you. The world outside might still be turning, but in this moment, it doesn’t exist. It’s just you and him, skin against skin, the weight of what just happened pressing down like the softest, heaviest thing in the world.

Your body is spent, muscles trembling faintly from the aftershocks, but you don’t move. You can’t.

Jungkook is still holding you. One arm draped lazily around your waist, the other tracing absentminded patterns against your back. His touch is slow, soothing, like he’s still trying to convince himself you’re real. Like if he lets go, you might slip away.

You stay like that for a while, chests rising and falling in sync, your head resting just above his heart. The rhythm of it is steady now, no longer racing like it had been just moments ago. Still, there’s a softness to it, an unspoken question lingering in the quiet space between you.

It’s you who finally breaks it.

“So…” You shift slightly, fingers trailing absentmindedly along his chest. “Hana knew about the jar?”

His hand stills for the briefest moment before he exhales a small, breathy laugh. His voice is thick with exhaustion, but there’s amusement in it too.

“She didn’t just know about it.” His fingers resume their slow, idle circles against your bare skin. “It was her idea.”

You blink. “…What?”

Jungkook hums in confirmation, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Yeah. She was the one who told me to do it—to fill a jar with everything I wanted to say but couldn’t.” He pauses, then adds, “She also threatened to expose me if I didn’t.”

You scoff, though you can’t help the warmth blooming in your chest. “So let me get this straight… You couldn’t tell me how you felt, but you told Hana?”

Jungkook turns his head slightly to look at you, eyes still heavy with sleep, but the amusement in them is undeniable. “I didn’t tell her. She just… figured it out.”

Of course, she did.

You huff, feigning annoyance, but your fingers betray you, tracing soft, aimless patterns along his collarbone. “Still. She knew before I did.”

Jungkook grins, rolling onto his side to face you fully. One hand slips beneath the sheets, finding your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. His voice is low when he asks, “Are you jealous?”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

His laughter vibrates against your skin, rich and warm, before he dips down to kiss you—slow and lingering, like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t say into it. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet.

Then, softer now, more serious, he murmurs, “Are you gonna answer me?”

Your brow furrows slightly. “Answer what?”

Jungkook leans over, reaching toward the nightstand where the jar still sits, its notes untouched—except for the last one.

“The question,” he says, retrieving the single unfolded slip of paper. He holds it between you, and even though you already know what it says, your heart still stutters when your eyes skim over the words again.

Y/N, will you be my Valentine?

Earlier, you had left it unanswered, too overwhelmed by everything that had come before it. But now, after everything—after confessions, after heartbreak, after finally finding each other again—there’s no hesitation.

You reach out, plucking the note from his fingers. Slowly, carefully, you fold it again, tucking it beneath your pillow like something precious, something worth keeping. Then, meeting his gaze, you whisper, “You never needed to ask.”

Jungkook exhales, slow and shaky, like something inside him has finally settled. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin like he’s memorizing the moment.

“Good,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “Because I wasn’t planning on taking no for an answer.”

Your breath catches. Not because of his confidence—but because, deep down, you realize you’d never wanted to say no in the first place. Maybe you had tried to fight it. Maybe you had convinced yourself that the past had built too many walls between you. But now, lying here in the warmth of his arms, the truth settles into your bones like something that had been waiting for you to accept it all along.

It had always been him.

Your fingers tighten in the sheets as you search his gaze, looking for hesitation, for doubt—for something to make this feel less like a dream. But there’s nothing. Just him. Just you. Just this moment you both fought so hard to reach.

Jungkook watches you, waiting, always waiting, his hand still resting against your cheek as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

So you close the distance.

You kiss him slowly this time, letting it sink in. The warmth of his lips, the taste of him still lingering, the way he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years. When you pull away, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing the same air, hearts beating in time.

And then, with a quiet, knowing smile, you whisper, “Then don’t.”

Jungkook’s lips part slightly, his expression shifting—softening, melting—as if those two words had knocked down every last barrier between you. And maybe they had. Because before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you against him again, tucking you close, his hand slipping into yours beneath the sheets.

Neither of you speak for a long time after that. You don’t need to.

Outside, the world keeps turning, time moving forward just as it always does. But here, in the hush of your dorm room, wrapped up in him, it feels like the universe has paused just for you.

Not to make up for lost time.

But to remind you that some things—some people—were never really lost at all.

And maybe, just maybe, they never would be.

EPILOGUE : Years Later – Valentine’s Day

The door clicks shut behind you as you step into the apartment, kicking off your shoes with a tired sigh. The evening air still clings to your skin, carrying traces of laughter and the lingering warmth of Jungkook’s presence.

It had been another perfect night—one filled with inside jokes, stolen bites of each other’s food, and his usual exasperated attempts to get you to pick a restaurant instead of saying, “Anything’s fine.”

Jungkook is nowhere in sight, giving you the solitude you need. You don’t hesitate. Your steps are purposeful as you cross the room, crouching down beside the bed. With practiced ease, you reach under the frame, fingers brushing against the familiar surface of a small pink, heart-shaped box.

But this time, there’s something else.

Your fingers find the jar—the one that started it all.

You pull them both out carefully, as if they were a fragile secret, and place them on your lap.

Soft footsteps approach. Then, a familiar weight sinks onto the mattress beside you.

Jungkook’s voice is quieter now, fond. “Didn’t think I’d see those again.”

You smile, running a thumb over the worn edges of the box before glancing at him. “I don’t know what made me reach for them.”

He hums, gaze flickering between the objects in your hands. “Habit, maybe. Or fate.” Then, smirking, “You always did have a thing for digging up answers.”

Rolling your eyes, you pop the lid off the jar, fingers fishing out an old note. The paper is creased, the ink slightly faded, but you already know what it says.

"Y/N, will you be my Valentine?"

Jungkook watches you, expectant. “You never actually answered me, you know.”

You exhale a laugh, shaking your head. “Jungkook, we’re literally married.”

“And?” He leans in, teasing. “I’m just saying, a verbal confirmation wouldn’t hurt.”

You scoff but humor him anyway, fingers curling into his sweater as you whisper against his lips—

"Yes, Jungkook. I’ll be your Valentine."

His arms wrap around you, pulling you in. The jar sits forgotten on the floor, the pink box nestled beside it.

Once upon a time, you had pulled it out, searching for clarity. Looking for a sign.

You didn’t realize then—you never needed the answers inside.

Because you’d already found them.

Because you’d found him.

And maybe that was the answer all along.

taglist: @iamstilljk @hirochan112 @withluvjm @amarawayne @jeon-has-left-you-on-seen @blueofocean @tattzjeon @tsick @stuti2904 @gukkiebabysblog @taekritimin123 @whisperingonyx @sadgirlroo @nerdycheol @hoshiskimchi @blueberriesm @kooksrqcer @minimoninini @dreamersparacosm @yok00k @whothefuckisthishoe @prxdajeon @darkangelfei @sunainasworld @kia091106 @khadeeeeej @welcometomyworld13 @noshametempo @bakuhoethotski @ohyeah35sworld

thank you so much for reading! let me know what u think about it <3

[thejujvtsupost]

It’s Always Been You

🍎F!reader, pet names: (pip/squeak, my girl, sweetheart,) suggestive but not smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, brief miscommunication and lots of groveling but it works out.🍎

Notes: I struggle with editing. This is totally separate from canon bc I’m heartbroken. It’s also my first lads fic, I’ll ALWAYS be a Sylus girlie but Caleb broke my brain for a minute 😭

Poll for a possible part 2 -> Taglist signup for part 2

Caleb joining the DAA wasn’t the problem at hand…No, it was the fact that you were going to be separated. Spending his last night before he leaves wrapped around each other like you always did when things were tough was the best comfort you could get.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, do you really have to go?” This was going to be the longest you’ve ever been apart since you were kids, and even worse, he wasn’t allowed to have his phone.

This wasn’t any easier on him but he couldn’t just back out. “I’ll be home before you know it, don’t worry too much.” Caleb brushed the hair from your eyes and held you closer, “plus, you get to have six months free of my constant nagging.”

That was absolutely the wrong thing to say, the tears you were holding back finally fell. Your hands that were originally wrapped around his waist were now at his chest, between your bodies and fisted tightly in his shirt. “But I love you and your nagging!” You inhaled like you were suffocating. Perhaps you were, under the weight of his impending absence.

“Shh I know, I love you and being a pain in your ass.” That earned him a wet chuckle. “I swear, as soon as I’m home I’ll fulfill my promise and I won’t leave your side. You’ll never have to worry again, about anything.” A soft kiss to your temple solidified his vow.

It took you a few long moments before you were able to get in a proper breath and process what he said. “You made a promise?”

“Don’t remember? Hm that won’t do. Think back to when you were 18, and that boy you had a crush on rejected you and broke your heart.”

“I’d prefer not to remember that, actually.”

“But remember after? When you still hadn’t come home by dinner and I found you alone at the park?” Large hands ran down the length of your back to help soothe you while he spoke.

You’re still lost but it’s coming back to you. Confessing to your crush in the park was supposed to be perfect— except he not only rejected you, but he made fun of you. You could respect rejection, but the way he humiliated you and made a scene wasn’t something you wanted to think about. “That day was awful.”

“You were so upset. I wanted to beat him to a pulp but you didn’t want to be alone. Remember what I told you? The pinky promise we made? It’s only been four years you know, I’d hope your memory isn’t that bad yet.”

The moment flooded you then with a gasp, ‘You’ll never be alone as long as I live sweetheart, and when it’s time, when I finally graduate and become a pilot, I swear I’ll marry you myself to prove it.’ And at the time it made you giggle, because surely he was just joking to cheer you up, right? “You meant it?”

Caleb chuckled and lifted your chin to look at you directly, “of course I did, it’s always been you and me. Don’t you know that?”

A fresh wave of tears formed as you surged forward to meet his lips with yours- and stopped out of embarrassment before you could make contact. “Sorry, I didn’t- I think I’m just being emotional—”

But the space between you closed once again and before you could overthink it, Caleb was kissing you the way he’s wanted to for years. His lips were all consuming and tender. His palm cupped your face like it was glass and you couldn’t resist running your fingers through his hair. Kissing Caleb felt like home, like everything was right.

He tried to break away to bring you both air but you refused to let him, instead pulling him closer and closer until he was on top of you, spreading your legs to accommodate his size. “Slow- slow down, you still need oxygen.” You shook when he started dragging his kisses down your throat, letting out soft moans when gentle sucks were left behind.

“C-Caleb…”

He pulled back and grew tense as if he was afraid he scared you away, “what’s wrong, you tired?” He was trying to give you an out if you wanted it.

You were certain your cheeks were flushed, you shook your head. “I want… more…”

Caleb groaned and buried his face in your neck “you’re killing me, Pip.”

Had you said something wrong? “Sorry- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable… I’ll just-” you loosened your arms from around him, thinking you somehow embarrassed yourself yet again.

He stopped you. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. You’re killing me because you have no idea how badly I want you; how long I’ve wanted you.”

“Really?” Having someone like Caleb love you was the best feeling, but him being attracted to you left you wanting him even more.

Deciding to just show you, he ground his hips into yours. And god, it felt good against you. Just that little bit of contact felt better than anything you ever achieved on your own. “You’re-” hard went unsaid. He grunted when you spread your legs wider for him. “Yeah, I am. And if you want me, then you have me. But you can’t take it back, so if you’re not ready for that commitment…”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“This really isn’t the time for that—”

“Shut up, it’s important.” He sighed and let you continue. Your arms dropped from his neck to hold his face in your hands, brushing the stray hairs from his face. “That guy I had a crush on? I only liked him so much because he reminded me of you. So I’m yours, too. If you want me, then you can take me.”

Words were lost on him so actions took hold, “are you sure?” His kisses resumed their path after meeting your lips, the room grew hotter with each new brush against your skin.

“I trust you, Caleb,” you had no idea your neck was so sensitive, your gasps talking for you. “but I should let you know I’ve never done this before.”

“I’d kill anyone who ever touched you if you had”

“Isn’t that hypocritical? Should I hunt down your past lovers?” You worked his shirt over his head, the dog tag necklace you gave him mere hours ago dangled in front of your face.

He chuckled and discarded your top, your sleep shorts were next. “It’s funny how you think I’d ever want someone that isn’t you.” His revelation hit you full force: he loves you so deeply, there’s truly no doubt to have. “I’d never do this with anyone else.”

Two things happened that night: your bond was solidified, and unbeknownst to you, a life was created

The goodbye was brutal the next day, already missing him terribly before night fell again.

You managed to fall into a routine, though. You would go to work, occasionally spend time with friends— Tara spent the night with you at least once a week to keep your mind off of things; and the days she didn’t you laid in bed desperately wishing he would be by your side.

Your routine was solid, until a month into your separation when you were sick almost every single day. You were fed up by the time a week passed and the day after that you made your way to visit Zayne- who congratulated you because in his words, ‘he and his wife were expecting as well, perhaps they’ll be friends, too.’ Finding out you were pregnant without Caleb with you was difficult, there wasn’t a way to reach him and share the news.

But you weren’t alone anymore. You spent the time you felt lonely talking to your baby now, who definitely couldn’t hear you yet but that didn’t matter. You were kept company with a perfect blend of you and your Caleb.

According to the official statement released last week Caleb would be home any time today, any minute, any second.

The anticipation left butterflies in your tummy, your baby moving with your nerves. It didn’t occur to you that he might not be happy to be a father, that you might’ve been presumptuous that he’d be ready to care for another life so soon.

And when the door flew open, as much as you wanted to jump into his arms (carefully, of course,) you held your breath and waited for him to notice. And of course, because he was your Caleb, it was right away. His happiness and relief fell away to shock and— was that anger? You didn’t expect anger…

“Welcome home, I—”

“Who else has been here?”

“What? I mean Tara has been keeping me company a few times a week but that’s it.”

“What man has been in our home, pipsqueak.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, just a demand. He’s never been so terse with you…

His tone made you anxious, “No one, other than Zayne and his wife for dinner occasionally— Caleb what are you talking about?”

Caleb dropped his bag on the floor with a thud, still not moving from his spot. “I’m talking about the fact that I came home after six months and you didn’t seem to miss me at all, nothing like the way I missed you. How else would you be pregnant? So who is he? Someone from the Hunters Association?”

Oh… he thought… “Oh my god how could you think- I’d never cheat on you Caleb— EVER how could you even think—”

“Well, I certainly couldn’t have knocked you up in the time I’ve been away.”

A knife cut through you at his words, the accusation, the betrayal of thinking you’d ever be with anyone else. And how vulgar it was… Did your first time mean so little? Was it something he just wanted to get out of the way before he left? A sob escaped you, tears spilled over. “You’re an asshole, Caleb.”

His eyes went wide, “I’m the asshole here?”

“Yes! You’re a fucking asshole! I expected you to be shocked but accusing me of cheating on you? Thinking that night was nothing? That’s low. I can’t believe you!”

“That night means everything to me!”

“Ask me how far along I am! Go on, fucking ask!”

That stopped him short, “you mean?”

“SIX MONTHS!” Standing there while he dropped to his knees was barely satisfying. “God I can’t stand you right now! You must’ve lost your damn mind and all your common sense!”

His silence was angering you further, stomping off to the kitchen for a drink of water and trying to calm down was a better use of your time; crying from this much stress wasn’t good for you.

Once he gathered himself he followed you, “Sweetheart… you’re telling me that night…”

“Finally used your brain, did you?”

“I’m so, god I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” His hand reached out to bring you in for a hug but you denied him.

“Do. Not. Touch me.” His audacity made you seethe. No way were you going to give in so easily no matter how much you desired to be in his embrace and reassured.

“Sweetheart—”

“You’re sleeping on the couch. We can decide what to do later.”

His emotions began to overflow, the guilt crushing him; the ring in his pocket practically burning into his flesh. “Decide what?”

“Decide if I should even let you stay.” Your throat felt tight but you continued to hold your sobs back. “Your dinner is in the oven by the way, it’s your favorite so I suggest you don’t let it burn.”

A few hours rolled around before he couldn’t hold himself back anymore hearing your sniffles. You hadn’t eaten dinner, who knows if you had any water, and no matter how (rightfully) mad you were, you still needed to eat.

Grabbing a few of your favorite snacks with a glass of juice instead of the untouched dinner he put in the fridge was his safest option, unsure if seeing the meal would upset you further.

“Pip squeak? I know you’re awake.” Crouching by your side of the bed and setting the snacks on the nightstand, “please talk to me?”

“Go away.”

“You know I can’t do that, you have to eat something.”

You poked your head from the blanket, “oh so you care now that you know it’s yours?”

The jab was deserved but it still earned a wince. “I’d still care even if they weren’t.”

“How noble of you. Sticking around to raise a kid that’s not yours before I even have a ring.”

“Who said I didn’t have a ring?” This time you accepted the comfort of his hand brushing your hair behind your ear and gently cupping your cheek.

Curiosity was a bitch, but you weren’t ready to forgive him yet. “You were really mean.”

“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. So sorry. I can’t imagine you being with anyone else but I didn’t expect to come home to a family either— and I’m beyond happy to be a dad. It’s not an excuse though, never okay to talk to you like that.”

A few leftover sniffles came before he pulled a tissue from the box on your nightstand, opting to dry your tears himself. “Blow,” He said, holding the tissue to help you blow your nose; then offering you the straw of the juice so you could hydrate.

“I missed you so much, I thought you’d still be happy to see me.”

“I’m over the moon, actually. But I hurt my girl, gotta make things right. Think you can forgive me? I’ll earn it forever.”

“Caleb if you ever, I mean ever, speak to me like that again I won’t hesitate to let you talk to the front door. You’ll be out.”

“I’ll cut my tongue out myself.”

“So dramatic as always.” You rolled your eyes, “you mentioned a ring?”

A smile lifted the corner of his mouth, “there’s my girl. You sure you still want it? Or should I earn it first?” He dug into his pants pocket to show you anyway.

“It wouldn’t hurt your efforts.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle fully before presenting the velvet box to you, “I’m pretty close to the ground but if you sit up for me I’ll get on one knee.”

Sitting up to stretch was good for your back anyway, “I think I’ve waited long enough.”

The velvet box opened and your jaw dropped, “picked it out in Skyhaven. Gideon and I helped the elderly owner of a small shop with some boxes he was struggling with in front of his door. Knew it was perfect right away, gorgeous and one of a kind like you.”

“You’re ridiculous, but I love it.” He slid it on your finger and sealed it with a kiss, and you fell into his arms like you’ve wanted to for the last six months.

Pulling away after many minutes of hugs, ‘I love you’s’ and kisses wasn’t welcomed by you. “Now, how ‘bout some dinner? I don’t think snacks are enough, they were backup. Gotta keep you healthy.”

“Did you like it?”

You were pulled to your feet and carried out of the room. “Didn’t eat without you, sweetheart. Having dinner without you and the baby felt empty.”

“Good. You can reheat it then.” You waited for the perfect moment to drop your bombshell, which happened to be when he was carrying a full glass pitcher of water for the table. “We’re having a daughter, by the way.”

The pitcher fell so fast his evol barely managed to catch it before glass hit the ground. It left you feeling smug.

You couldn’t help but cackle at his shocked spluttering, “A WHAT?”

I’m so flattered, I’ve never had so many people interested or had a taglist this long: @pixelcafe-network @kentochronicles @sashisuslover @lunia-likes-pomegranet @elli4ever @mysssticc @kaemaybae @kamisatoaiko @midiplier @jamseashell @llamabois @boba14 @crimsonspring @angrychinchillanoises @ali-shiii @kazbae95 @ifistoptherain @c-I-stinnett @nephelesthoughts @etherealzi @jjoppees @keithkoganeirl

Click here to be added to the taglist for part 2

All divider credits to me @thecutestgrotto

[captain-huggy-bear]

Eyes on Me

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Luke being a whiny possessive baby, but actually this is all silly fluff and he's just a silly boy who wants all your attention.

Summary: Your relationship with Luke is as serious as it gets and your relationship with his family is as close as they come. Luke can't help but love it, even as he jealously wants all your attention especially whenever his brothers seem to hog it

Notes: Request for @toasttt11, I hope you enjoy it, I went a slightly different route with it but I hope its okay! 🥰

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You never had a particularly close family. Your family was small, and while you loved them, your family was one of those more aloof types, not so emotional or as close as typical families. The type of family you worried about telling things to in case they made fun of you or told you off or simply didn't listen. A family where they gave presents that were relatively generic because they didn't really know each other. A family where cousins didn't regularly see each other. Luke's family was the complete opposite. Warm, welcoming and large, even his extended family of cousins and aunts and uncles were close. It was a whole different world, but it showed you what family could really look like and what it could feel like.

At first it had been intimidating. To come into this family unit where everyone was so close, where everyone talked and shared their thoughts and feelings without fear of judgement. Where gifts were thoughtful and meaningful and everyone knew what everyone had been up to lately and no one forgot a birthday. At first you'd been scared you simply wouldn't fit in, that you'd make mistakes, forget to do something, offend someone.

Luke had been insistent that you'd fit in perfectly and he'd been absolutely right. His parents loved you, Jim and Ellen immediately treating you like a daughter. Ellen was more excited to see you than her own sons at holidays, always rushing to be the first person to wrap you in a warm hug and bring you inside. Ellen regularly talked to you over the phone and sent you whatsapps to see how you were doing. Jim always had a word of wisdom or a reassuring wink on hand if the boys were getting rowdy and out of pocket. Then there was Jack and Quinn, Jack and Quinn who were the epitome of what brothers should be. They were the first to step in and help you if Luke wasn't around, the first to make fun of you light heartedly for something silly you'd done and the first to add you to your very own group chat with the brothers, Luke not invited, because often you used it to discuss what to buy the impossible to buy for boy. They made you feel settled in the family unit, they felt like real brothers to you, as much a part of your life as Luke was.

Luke was happy about it, of course he was. You were it for him, he was 99.9% certain he was going to marry you, the 0.1% being the off chance that you decided you didn't want to marry him. So naturally seeing you fall in so perfectly with his family, seeing you grow more and more comfortable, the closeness of your relationship with all of them it made him ache with warmth and affection. But, he hated sharing you. He couldn't help it. He'd always shared things with his brothers, clothes, jerseys, toys. Not because he had to, but because that's just what they did. But, you were the first thing in his life that he didn't want to share.

Even now, watching from the doorway of the lake house kitchen as you laugh with Jack and Quinn, there's a sense of jealousy that your attention isn't on him. It's stupid. He doesn't have any worries about you not loving him or preferring his brothers, but he can't help but want your attention on him, can't help but want you to smile and laugh at him, for his brothers to be background noise. It's cave-manish and stupid and he'd never admit to it because Jack and Quinn would make fun of him for the rest of his entire existence...but it's there.

"You're ridiculous, Jack. If you were a worm, Luke would not keep you in a terrarium. He'd throw you out a window, while screaming!" You laugh at Jack, shoving his shoulder as he glares you. He's been adamant for the past 3 minutes that his brother would care for him in sickness and in worm and while sweet, you both know that Luke hates insects, he absolutely hates anything wriggly and crawly, a worm is no exception. Even if that worm was his brother.

"No, no, see my brother loves me and he would keep me in a little terrarium until the day I or he dies and you would have to watch as he gave me all his attention!"

"I'd throw you out the window. Let some bird eat you." You smile as you say it, the bite not there. You both know you wouldn't but the offended gasp Jack lets out is enough to make it appealing to say.

"You wouldn't." Jack's blue eyes narrow on you and you stifle your laugh, arms crossing as you glance at Quinn who's shaking his head at the both of you refusing to get involved.

"You're right, I'd hand feed you to a bird."

"Quinn?!" Jack looks to his older brother, eyes wide like he expects him to intervene and put you on the naughty step or something equally as comical. Instead Quinn simply holds his hands up in surrender.

"I'm not getting involved. This is a ridiculous argument because we all know I'd be the one who'd end up taking care of you."

"Quinn has a point-" You stop yourself short as you feel strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you back against a warm chest. Luke's chin coming to rest on top of your head as he crushes you against him, his fingers slipping under your hoodie to rest on your waist.

"What you talking about?" It's mumbled into your hair, a quick kiss pressed there. He knows he's glowering at Jack and Quinn, mostly Jack. Jack who's gotten that teasing glint in his eyes at the realisation that Luke's scowl is because his girlfriend is focused on his brother, his stupid, pretty boy brother that all the girls seem to want. You are oblivious to this, leaning back into Luke like its second nature.

"How you would throw Jack to the birds if he turned into a worm."

"Mmm, true." His voice is short, shorter than normal and it makes your ears perk up as does the way he pulls you even tighter against him and a little bit further from his brothers like he's trying to pull you away. You wonder if maybe something had happened that's put him in a grumpy mood even as you look between Quinn and Jack who both seem to smirk at their brother standing behind you.

"Lukey, I'm your brother!" Even as Jack pretends to be offended he's grinning. His little brother is practically glaring at him, eyes just visible above your hair where he's burrowed his face.

"And?"

"Luke!" You turn in his arms, forcing him to look at you and for the first time you see the glower on his face, the sort of look you've seen only a handful of times. The same look you've seen him direct at men in bars who bother you, except this look is very much directed at Jack.

"What? I hate worms!"

"Mm, okay, what if I turned into a worm?" You pout up at him, wide eyes focused on him and he can't help but lose a bit of the glower because your attention is on him now and not on Jack.

Luke's hands find their way to your back pockets, pulling you close against him even as his brothers groan at the unnecessary PDA between their baby brother and his girlfriend.

"I'd keep you in my pocket wherever I went until I could find some scientist to turn you back." He smiles down at you sweetly, all traces of the former scowl removed now that his attention is on you and you brush some of his curls from his face as he does so. His smile only grows warmer at your attention, a sense of puffed up pride that he's got all your attention now, and his brothers have none of it.

From behind you you hear Jack whine, "Why am I thrown to the birds but sunshine over here is kept in your pocket?"

"She's my future wife?" You can't help the bashful sort of smile that overtakes your face and forces it to scrunch up and grow warm at his words. You hide your face in his chest, giddy at him calling you his future wife even when you're not even engaged and unlikely to be engaged any time soon given where you both are in life.

"Oh and I'm just chopped liver?" Jack doesn't even get a response, Luke's too busy staring at you, smiling down at you with lovesick little grin he gets. His hands are still in your back pockets and yours have migrated to hold him around the waist as you look up at him, chin leaning against his sternum.

"Talk to your boyfriend." You look over your shoulder at Jack, who's scowling at his brother like he's been betrayed. You suppose in a sense he has, seeing as Luke has decided you're more worthy of pocket worm privileges than his older brother is.

"Lukey, baby, you can't throw your brother to the birds."

"Why not?"

"Because he's your brother." He's pouting at you like a five year old and it really shouldn't be cute, it should be so annoying that he's acting like this but its not. It's cute, it's playful and you can't help but find everything Luke does endearing.

"But, he's taking all your attention away from me..." His voice is whiny, drawn out and annoyed as he frowns down at you, his hands pulling you even tighter to him like Jack might physically pull you away.

"Is that what this all about? Are you jealous of your brother?" You can hear Quinn and Jack sniggering at the background, you know they'll never let him live this down not until the day he dies.

"No..." Luke looks away from you, a bright red flush crawling up his neck, to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He can hear his brothers making fun of him, but he can't help it. He wants your attention all the time and he hates that Jack had it, even as much as he loves that Jack and you get along.

"Baby, Oh, baby...you know I only want you, right?" You cup his cheeks in your hands, tilting your head right back to look at him. He flushes further, cheeks so warm under your palms that you're a little worried he might grow lightheaded. Made only worse by your sweet voice and softness with him, "Jack's nowhere near as pretty as you."

You giggle at the offended, "Hey!" behind you. But, you know Luke needs to hear it, know he compares himself to his brothers even if he tries not too. He knows Jack has a reputation as the fan favourite with women, the pretty boy, but, God, Luke is so pretty to you.

"Really?" His grin that begins is the one you love most, where his teeth peek out and his cheeks dimple deeply. It crinkles his eyes and for anyone looking from the outside in it is so obvious he is absolutely in love with you, smitten, whipped, completely taken with you. If you were in an episode of Tom and Jerry his eyes would be hearts popping from his head.

"Mmm, no one is prettier than my future husband, honey." You're pandering to him and he knows that, he doesn't care though. Revels in it when you lean up on tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, grins at Jack over your head like Jack even cares because Jack most certainly does not care that his brother's girlfriend doesn't find him that pretty. In fact, he's glad. How awkward with family dinners be if you did think Jack was prettier?

But, Jack draws the line at the PDA you're starting to display. He draws the line when Luke crashes his lips down on yours in what can only be described as an 'eating faces' sort of kiss, the sort where you're a little worried for each participants health and ability to breathe.

"Eww, c'mon Quinn, lets get out here. Ew." Jack grabs Quinn by the arm and pull him outside, but you're not really focusing on that, not when Luke is ushering you to a kitchen counter and up so that you can wrap your legs around his hips and kiss him easier.

Yeah, he's jealous sometimes that his brothers get along so well with you, but he knows that you're it for him and he's it for you. He doesn't mind feeling a little jealous, not when you remind him so thoroughly that you could care less about Jack or Quinn in anyway that isn't entirely brotherly.

[finelinefae]

safety [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: harry is always there to help bambi, always.

word count: 5.4k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, fluff, age gap (9 years), harry meets the family, crybaby reader lowkey

a/n: apologies for this taking so long. I've moved into university and switched courses within three weeks so I've had to do a lot of adjusting! But I hope you're doing well, thank you so so so much for all the love on the first part of bambi and being so patient with this part <333

this is part 2 of bambi, read part 1 here

. . .

Y/N sighed as she stepped into the living room, her heart sinking at the sight of her mother passed out on the couch. It was Friday night, and her mom was still in her work uniform, one shoe barely hanging from her foot while the other lay haphazardly across the room. A wave of frustration and sadness hit her hard. She had begged her mom to take the day off to watch the boys so she could go on her date with Harry tonight—the date she’d been looking forward to all week.

This was supposed to be their third date, just before she started working with him at Pleasing this weekend. Their last date had been simple—strolling hand in hand by the river, talking about everything and nothing. But tonight was different. Harry had told her to dress up; he had something important to ask her and was taking her somewhere special. Y/N had been buzzing with excitement ever since.

Glancing at her phone, she felt the sting of tears. Halfway through her makeup, she now realized it didn’t matter—she’d have to cancel. With her mother out cold and no babysitter available at such short notice, the responsibility fell on her. And it was ruining everything.

She opened Harry’s contact on her phone, staring at the little pink heart next to his name. Her thumb hovered over the call button as doubt crept in. What if he never wanted to see her again after this? Cancelling last minute was embarrassing, and she dreaded how angry or disappointed Harry might be.

Her thumb pressed down, the ringing growing louder with each second. Anxiety gnawed at her as she picked at the skin around her nails.

Suddenly, the call connected, and Harry’s voice, smooth and soothing like a lullaby, poured through the speaker. “Bambi? Was jus’ about to pick y’ up. You missin’ me already?”

Her lip trembled, and a tear slid down her cheek as she sniffled. “Harry…” Her voice cracked.

“Hey, what’s wrong, love?” Concern filled his voice instantly, and the warmth of it made her chest tighten.

“I-I can’t go on our date tonight,” she confessed, her voice shaky.

“What d’you mean? Don’t be silly, is something wrong?” His slight panic was clear, making her feel even worse.

“No, it’s not like that. It’s just… my mom came home late, and she’s, um, not able to watch the boys, so I have to stay and babysit. I’m really sorry, Harry. I wanted to go tonight, I swear. I understand if you’re mad or—if you never want to see me again—”

“Woah, woah, Bambi, baby, stop panickin’. I don’t hate you, not at all. It’s closer to the opposite, so calm down, yeah? ‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice still thick with emotion. “Y’promise?”

“Five pinkie swears, baby,” he chuckled softly, making her giggle through the tears. “It’s alright. These things happen. But are you okay? Need me to grab you anything? Have y’eaten today?”

His kindness made her heart swell. “N-No, but we’ve got stuff in the freezer I can heat up. Maybe we can reschedule?”

“Bambi, I’m already on my way to your house.”

Her breath hitched. “What? But, Harry, I can’t—”

“You think I’d let a little change of plans stop me from seein’ you? Been needin’ to see m’Bambi all day. How ‘bout this: you help your mum, and I’ll come by and make dinner for all of you. Sound good?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Was he real? Was he really this thoughtful, this willing to come over despite everything?

“Harry, you don’t have to—”

“I want to. Now, go get in some comfy pjs, and I’ll stop by the store to grab snacks. Maybe we can watch a movie later. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice lighter now. “That sounds perfect.”

“Alright, I’ll be over in thirty minutes. Take a deep breath for me, Bambi.”

Immediate relief washed over her at the idea of having an extra pair of hands to help her with something that she’d normally be left alone to and better yet it was Harry who was coming to help her. So, she did exactly that - breathe. 

. . . 

Y/N was pushing clothes into the washing machine when she heard the doorbell ring. Her heart skipped a beat or possibly maybe two when she heard it. She forced the door shut on the machine and walked to the front door. She frowned the closer she got when she could already hear Harry’s voice but that was soon followed by the voice of her younger brother. 

“I know jujitsu, you know,” Archie announced, his small five-foot frame blocking the doorway.

“You take classes?” Harry asked, bemused.

“No, I learned it on Roblox,” Archie replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve heard of that one before. You’ll have to show me sometime,” Harry said with a grin.

Archie snorted. “You could just be saying that to get into our house and rob us.”

Y/N’s face heated with embarrassment as she approached the door, ushering Archie out of the way. Harry’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw her. “Y/N, this pizza delivery guy is trying to break into our house,” Archie said. Y/N looked to see Harry holding two pizza boxes and a plastic bag.

“Archie,” Y/N gasped, “this is not a pizza delivery man. This is Harry.”

Harry smiled, clearly trying not to laugh, and offered Archie a small wave. It did nothing to ease the suspicious look on Archie’s face. “Who’s Harry?”

Y/N froze, unsure of how to answer. Harry was both her boss and the man she was dating, but she couldn’t exactly explain that to her little brother. “He’s... my special friend.”

Archie looked between them for a moment, then shrugged and wandered off. Y/N’s shoulders sagged with relief as she turned to face Harry, who was still grinning at her. He looked incredibly handsome in his matching brown suit, his curly hair tousled in that familiar way. Her heart sank a little, knowing he had dressed up for their date.

“H-Harry, I’m really sorry—” she began, but before she could finish, Harry set the pizza boxes down and pulled her into a tight embrace. She breathed in the fruity scent of his cologne as he gently rubbed circles on her back.

“Bambi,” he murmured with a soft sigh, “I missed you.”

She smiled against his chest. “You just saw me the other day, and we FaceTimed last night.”

Harry pulled back slightly, cupping her cheeks with his large hands. “Kiss?”

Her cheeks flushed, as they always did when he asked for a kiss. She stood on her toes, meeting his lips, savouring the softness of his touch and the faint taste of peppermint from his lip balm. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmured against her lips. “I brought pizza.”

“You didn’t have to,” Y/N sighed softly. “I was just going to throw something in the oven.”

“Hey, Bambi.” She looked up, meeting his gaze already fixed on her. “I wanted to. I’m here to help, okay? Now, why don’t we eat this before it gets cold? You grab some plates, and I’ll set the table.”

“O-Oh, okay.” She nodded, a bit flustered. “Just so you know, my brothers can be… intense.”

Harry smiled, his expression easygoing. “It’s okay, I’ve got a niece. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Y/N led him into the living room where her little brothers were scattered. Archie sat in the corner, hunched over the computer, likely playing the game he had mentioned to Harry earlier.

“Who are you?” a small voice piped up. Harry glanced down to see a boy around six or seven, looking at him curiously.

“That’s Y/N’s special friend,” Archie chimed in without even turning around from his game.

“Weren’t you the guy making out with my sister the other night?” The eldest of the three boys, who looked about fourteen, spoke up from where he was watching TV. Despite his age, there was a maturity in his tone that caught Harry off guard.

Harry chuckled, feeling Y/N stiffen beside him. He gave the teenager a polite smile. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

“Sammy go and get the plates from the kitchen, Harry bought us pizza.” Sammy huffed, pausing the tv and doing exactly as his sister said. 

“Jack, can you grab an extra chair?” Y/N asked the youngest boy, her voice gentle but firm. Harry watched as the boys immediately followed their eldest sister’s instructions without question. A small pang tugged at his chest—part of him felt for her, having to shoulder the responsibility of looking after three growing boys. He didn’t know every detail of her family life, but seeing the way they interacted was enough to tell him they’d had to adapt quickly.

They all gathered around the table, two extra-large pizzas laid out in front of them. Harry chuckled at the sight of the boys eyeing the food like it was a rare treasure.

“Calm down,” he murmured with a grin, leaning close to Y/N. “Y’ so stiff, Bambi.”

Y/N blushed, fidgeting slightly. “Sorry, I just get so—”

“So?” Harry interrupted, smirking as he tried to coax her into a fluster. “So what, baby?”

“So nervous,” Y/N huffed, her cheeks burning as she realized he was toying with her.

A throat cleared from across the table, and Y/N suddenly felt three pairs of eyes locked onto them. Jack and Archie looked disgusted by the couple’s banter, while the eldest boy, Sammy, was glaring at Harry with an intensity that made Harry suppress a laugh.

“How old are you?” Sammy asked bluntly, his gaze sharp and protective.

Y/N choked on her drink. “Sammy! You can’t just ask people that—it’s rude!”

Harry chuckled, raising a hand to calm her. “No, it’s alright,” he said, amused. “I’m thirty.”

“Whoa, you’re old!” Archie blurted out, eyes wide with surprise.

“Archie!” Y/N gasped, mortified, while Jack burst out laughing.

“I guess it is kind of old,” Harry shrugged playfully, glancing at Y/N with a wink.

“Are you rich?” Sammy pressed, undeterred.

Y/N’s face flushed even more, praying the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

“I do well,” Harry replied, keeping his tone light. “I own a fashion company.”

“That means he’s rich,” Archie chimed in, eyes lighting up. “Do you have a sports car?”

Harry leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, “I own three.”

Archie gasped, his face a picture of awe. “No wonder you can afford two extra-large pizzas!”

“If you think that’s cool, wait till you hear what else I brought,” Harry teased.

“Candy?” Archie’s eyes grew even wider, filled with excitement.

“Better.”

“Ice cream?”

Harry nodded. “Ice cream, candy, whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles... you name it.”

Archie looked as though he might pass out from pure joy. Sweets after dinner weren’t a common occurrence in their house unless it was a special occasion.

Harry’s smile softened as his eyes flicked to Sammy, who was still watching him with guarded suspicion. “What do you want from my sister?” Sammy finally asked, his tone sharp.

Y/N cringed, wishing she could disappear like Jack, who was contentedly munching on pizza, completely oblivious to the tension. Her cheeks were already burning before she’d even taken a bite.

Harry’s hand found its way to her knee under the table, a silent reassurance that he knew exactly how she was feeling without her having to say a word.

“It’s still early,” Harry said honestly, his gaze meeting Sammy’s without faltering. “But I really, really like your sister.”

Sammy seemed to relax at that, but not without a final warning. “You’re not allowed to like her as much as we do.”

Y/N’s heart squeezed at the words. Despite the challenges, the boys were her world, her best friends.

Harry smiled warmly, his voice sincere. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

. . .

"Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!" Archie came barreling into the kitchen, his face smeared with chocolate and whipped cream from the ice cream sundaes they’d made earlier. Y/N was bent over the washing machine, pulling out clothes to hang on the makeshift line by the window.

"Harry says he's gonna take us to the indoor waterpark in the city for my birthday! Isn't that awesome? And he beat Sammy's score on the new game he bought us!"

Y/N glanced up, smiling softly at Archie's excitement. The boys had been glued to the computer for hours after Harry surprised them with a game they’d been begging for. The sound of their wild laughter had echoed through the house all afternoon.

Footsteps approached the kitchen, and she looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Harry, I was just telling Y/N about the waterpark you’re taking us to," Archie said eagerly.

Harry’s eyes flicked to Y/N. "Ah, yes," he said, smiling at her. "I heard there’s a certain someone’s birthday coming up soon."

Archie's birthday was still a month away, and Y/N had only planned a simple celebration—movies, takeout, and cake. As Archie bolted from the kitchen, beaming about the waterpark, Y/N’s smile faded slightly.

Harry noticed the shift immediately. "What’s wrong?" he asked, stepping closer and reaching for her hand. "Did I mess something up?"

"N-no," Y/N replied quickly, shaking her head. "You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just... Archie's birthday isn’t for another month."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "So?"

Y/N hesitated, her words stumbling over themselves. "I just don’t want to make promises, you know, in case… I mean, what if…" She trailed off, struggling to find a way to express the growing anxiety in her chest. She adored Harry, more than she could articulate, but a part of her couldn’t help worrying about the future—the uncertainties that came with letting someone new into their lives.

"Bambi," Harry’s voice was soft as he cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Where’d you go?"

She blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

His lips quirked into a gentle smile. "Y’ do this thing where you space out, like your mind drifts off somewhere else ‘cause you're thinkin’ too much."

"I do that?" she asked, surprised.

"Mhm," he murmured, his thumb tracing the little furrow in her brow, the touch sending warmth through her. "I like you an awful lot, Bambi. I plan on stickin' around for a long time."

"You do?" Her voice was small, almost disbelieving.

"Yes, I do. And I really like your brothers—they’re a credit to you."

Y/N opened her mouth to deflect, as usual. "Oh, you mean my mom—"

"No," Harry interrupted gently, shaking his head. "I mean you."

Her lips parted in surprise, her eyes misting over. She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear those words. Without thinking, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, a kiss filled with the gratitude she couldn't quite express in words.

She was about to pull away, but Harry held her close, his hands gripping her hips as he deepened the kiss. His soft, warm lips made her head spin, and for a brief moment, the world around them disappeared.

That is, until Sammy’s voice rang out from the hallway. "I’m coming in, so you better not be swapping saliva in there!"

Harry broke the kiss with a chuckle, glancing over his shoulder. "Alright, alright, we’re behaving," he teased, winking at Y/N before moving to the sink. "Let me help you," he offered, turning on the faucet to start washing the dishes from dinner.

Y/N watched him for a moment, her heart swelling with warmth. The words he’d spoken earlier echoed in her mind—words that had already begun to feel familiar, but only when they came from him.

. . .

Y/N woke up the following morning, not from the alarm she’d set for 6 a.m., but from the rapid thumping of her heart. Anxiety rippled through her, making her stomach twist with nerves. Today was her first day working at Pleasing, her first day officially under Harry’s employment. She was excited, of course, but that didn’t stop the butterflies in her belly from multiplying.

She stared up at the ceiling for a few moments, taking slow breaths to calm herself. Her phone buzzed softly on the nightstand, and she reached over, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened the message.

Harry: Morning, Bambi 🌞 There’s a car on its way to pick you up. No need to stress, yeah? I’ll be waiting for you at the office. You’re gonna be amazing x

A small smile crept onto her face despite the nerves. Harry’s words were like a warm hug on a cold morning, making her feel just a little bit braver. She couldn’t help but appreciate how he seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear, right when she needed to hear it.

She quickly typed a reply, her fingers still shaky.

Y/N: Thank you. I’m a little nervous but I’ll do my best. See you soon 💕

Y/N got out of bed and went through her morning routine, trying to focus on each task to stop her mind from spiraling into all the things that could go wrong today. She picked out an outfit she hoped said “professional but approachable,” taking extra care to smooth out any creases in her clothes. When she was finally dressed, she checked the time—6:45 a.m.—the car Harry sent should be arriving any minute.

She stepped outside, the cool morning air doing little to ease her racing thoughts. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. The street was quiet at this hour, and she couldn’t help but feel like the only person awake in the world.

Just then, a sleek black car pulled up in front of her, the driver rolling down the window with a friendly nod. "Y/N?" he asked, and she nodded in response.

“That’s me,” she said, her voice a little shaky. She climbed into the backseat, clutching her bag on her lap as the driver started the journey to the office. She stared out the window, watching the familiar streets blur by, and tried to give herself a little pep talk.

You can do this. You’re ready. Harry believes in you, so believe in yourself, too.

Her phone buzzed in her hand again, another message from Harry.

Harry: Also going on a coffee run, do you want anything? x

Bambi: Isn’t that my job today? x

Harry: It’s my job to take care of you everyday

Y/N didn’t realize how wide her smile had grown until she caught her reflection in the glassy screen of her phone. A soft blush crept onto her cheeks as she tried to compose herself, glancing out the window to distract from the giddy feeling bubbling inside her. She watched as the quiet suburbs melted into the bustle of the big city, her heart thudding against her ribcage. 

Slowly, the car pulled up outside Pleasing. The building was elegant, with an arched doorway and a clean awning that had the brand's name in bold letters. Through the large glass doors, Y/N could see a glimpse of the bright, stylish interior. Her heart pounded as the car came to a stop, her mouth opening with a desperate plea to leave, to turn back and retreat home where she could hide away—but then she saw Harry, and her words fell away for an entirely different reason.

She’d seen Harry in a suit before, but seeing him in full CEO mode was something else. He wore a flawless black-and-white suit, cufflinks gleaming at his wrists. His eyes were stern, his entire demeanor unshakeable—until he looked her way, and his whole form softened.

“You’re here,” His voice was warm and inviting. She wanted to leap into him and hide herself within him but she wanted to be professional.

She stood in front of him, not wanting to get any closer to her new boss, “Good morning, Mr Styles.”

The corner of Harry’s lips quirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Good morning,” he replied, savoring her formality. He took a step closer, his gaze gentle yet focused. “Ready for today?”

“Y-yes,” She said but it wasn’t all that convincing.

Harry grabbed her hand, “You’ll be just fine Bambi.” He murmured the nickname just for her to hear. 

The warmth of his hand around hers steadied her, but it also set her pulse racing. His fingers intertwined with hers, and he kept their joined hands subtly hidden between them as they walked through the grand entrance and into the lobby. Y/N’s nerves started to quiet, replaced by a growing excitement.

As they stepped into the elevator, Harry’s thumb brushed gently over her knuckles. She looked up at him but his eyes were looking ahead. Her eyes fixated on his sharp jawline and smooth, freshly-shaven face; he looked even more polished, clean-cut and distinctly professional since she’d last seen him.

When they reached his office floor, Harry led her down a sleek corridor and into an airy, open workspace with views of the city skyline. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, and a few team members looked up with welcoming smiles.

Just ahead, a woman in her mid-thirties with shoulder-length auburn hair and an easy smile approached them. Her professional but warm demeanor put Y/N at ease almost instantly. Harry released Y/N’s hand as he greeted her.

“Lindsey, this is Y/N,” he said, glancing between them. “She’s starting with us today. I thought you might help her settle in and get familiar with everything.”

Lindsey extended her hand warmly. “Oh is this-”

Harry’s gaze lingered on her with a slight, unreadable intensity, prompting Lindsey to pause mid-sentence. Then, noticing Y/N, she broke into a bright smile.

“Y/N! It’s so nice to meet you.” She laughed lightly, her eyes flicking to Harry with a teasing glint. “I have to admit, I’m a little curious why anyone would sign up to be his assistant—he can be a real pain most days.” She shot him a playful look. “But don’t worry, just don’t enter his office at midday - he can get real hangry.” 

Y/N giggled and Harry’s eyes brightened at the sound, ““Y/N,” he said, his voice warm, “you’re in very good hands.” He turned to Lindsey. “Make sure she gets a proper introduction to everything, but don’t overwhelm her.”

Lindsey chuckled. “I’ll keep it light for today, boss. We’d be here all day getting into your list of demands everyday.”

Harry rolled his eyes, and with a final look at Y/N, said, “I’ll see you later, then.” His words were simple, but the small smile he gave her was anything but. As he walked away, Y/N felt the anticipation return, wanting him to come back and be the one to show her around. She wasn’t the best with meeting new people. She was shy and nervous and fumbled over her words too often but Harry had great faith in her so she would try her best to do good. 

“Alright, let’s get started,” Lindsey said, gesturing to an open desk area near Harry’s office. “First things first—coffee? I’ll show you the best spot, and then we’ll make our way through the to-do list Harry sent this morning.” 

. . .

Y/N liked Lindsey a lot. 

She was funny and gentle. Whenever Y/N made a mistake—like earlier when she accidentally printed everything in pink instead of black and white—Lindsey would correct her kindly, reminding her that mistakes happen. Y/N wasn’t used to this kind of patience; her old boss would snap or hiss at even the smallest error. Here, it felt nice to breathe a little easier.

Lindsey spoke warmly about her two little boys, whom she cared for while her husband was away with the military. She had once been a stay-at-home mom, but over time, the isolation began to weigh on her; she craved more than just the role of mother and wanted to be out in the world, around people. When she applied to Pleasing, she’d explained her situation to Harry during her interview, and he had offered her flexible hours so she could still make it home to her boys each evening.

Whenever Lindsey mentioned the things Harry had done for her and her family, her voice would grow thick with emotion, and she spoke of him with genuine admiration. Y/N found herself thinking of her own circumstances and the way Harry had taken her under his wing, feeling a warmth for him settle in her chest.

“Okay, Harry’s in a meeting, so we need to bring in tea and coffee,” Lindsey said, heading over to a small rolling cart neatly stocked with cups, a teapot, and coffee supplies.

She guided Y/N through the arrangement, showing her how Harry liked his tea prepared. “He’s particular about the temperature—hot but not scalding,” Lindsey explained with a wink. “Don’t worry you’ll get the hang of things.”

Y/N carefully poured the tea, her hands steadying with each instruction Lindsey offered. They finished preparing the drinks, and Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself as she reached for the cart handle.

“You’ll be fine,” Lindsey reassured her, offering a supportive smile. “Just go in, keep it simple, and make sure everyone has their drinks. You’ll be a natural at this in no time.”

“I’m going in alone?” Y/N’s eyes widened.

“It’s good practice,” Lindsey grins, “Good luck!”

Y/N squared her shoulders and pushed the cart toward the meeting room. The murmurs grew louder as she approached, but her nerves eased slightly upon catching Harry’s eye. His expression softened for a moment before returning to its professional coolness, a small signal just for her.

As she entered, she was met with the sight of a large glass table surrounded by men in sharp suits, all eyes shifting toward her. Taking a breath, she rolled the cart around and placed the cups in front of Harry and the others. Just as she reached for the teapot, a slight tremor ran through her hand, and she felt a sudden rush of panic.

In an instant, she lost her grip. The teapot tipped, sending hot tea spilling across the table and splattering onto a crisp white shirt belonging to one of the men. The room fell silent, and every gaze shifted from her to the angry figure, whose face flushed crimson.

““Watch where you’re going!” he barked, rising from his seat. “Do you even know how to serve properly?”

Y/N’s heart raced, the color draining from her face. Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, a surge of anger rippled through the room.

“Do you think it’s okay to talk to a woman like that?” Harry murmured, his voice laced with malice.

“She stained my shirt! She’s lucky I’m not making her pay for it,” the man continued, and Y/N could see the discomfort on the faces of the other attendees, their expressions telling her they knew he’d crossed a line.

Harry’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them. He reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out a checkbook and a fountain pen. With swift strokes, he began to scribble before turning to Y/N. “Y/N, would you mind delivering this to Mr. Smith?”

Y/N nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she accepted the check, its weight feeling both significant and heavy.

Mr. Smith snatched the check from her hands, glancing down at it with a scowl. Written across the page was Harry’s signature alongside a mere fifty dollars. “Your final check—enough to cover the shirt, I assume? I think I saw the same one in the TK Maxx sale rack.”

“Final?” Mr. Smith asked, incredulous.

“Correct,” Harry replied nonchalantly.

Mr. Smith’s face burned bright red. He huffed, rising from his seat and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The room fell silent. “Meeting adjourned,” Harry announced, and everyone flooded out, eager to escape the awkward tension.

Y/N stood in the corner, barely able to look up. Embarrassment washed over her; she wondered if she could do any job right. Her eyes watered as she bit down on her lip to keep from crying.

Suddenly, two polished shoes came into view, and big hands cupped her cheeks, gently forcing her to meet his gaze. “Are you okay?” Harry asked, concern etched on his face.

She wanted to say yes, to express pride in her efforts and how well she had handled the day, but instead, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his shirt. “I feel like I can’t do anything right,” she admitted, her voice muffled.

Harry sighed, his arms encircling her as he rubbed the back of her head soothingly. “You did nothing wrong.”

“You can’t fire people because of me, Harry.”

“Don’t worry about him. We’ve wanted to get rid of him for ages—just a sexist prick. Turns out you’re a pretty good assistant for giving me an excuse to fire someone on the spot,” he chuckled lightly.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart fluttering as his hand held her cheek, his thumb brushing beneath her eye. “These eyes,” he whispered.

A smile broke through her sadness. “I’m sorry for ruining your meeting.”

“Don’t care, Bambi.” He was so much taller than her, nearly a foot difference, so he had to lean down to brush his nose against hers, their lips ghosting against each other. “You actually made it better.”

“I did?” she whispered, her mind suddenly forgetting the man who had yelled at her.

“Mhm,” he hummed, and then, gently, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and lingering, sending a warm flutter through Y/N that chased away the remnants of her earlier embarrassment. She melted into the moment, her worries fading as Harry’s lips brushed against hers. 

“Okay, what the hell happened?” Lindsey barged into the room, causing Y/N to leap away from Harry, her cheeks flushing.

“Wow, Lindsey,” Harry said, rubbing a hand over his mouth, both of them flustered as Lindsey glanced between them. “Try knocking next time, yeah?”

“Since when have I ever needed to knock?” Lindsey shot back, her eyebrows knitting together as she assessed Y/N, whose face was now bright pink.

“Since now,” Harry replied. Clearing his throat, he added, “If you’ll excuse me…” He brushed past her, leaving the tension lingering in the air.

A laugh escaped Y/N’s lips, even as embarrassment tinged her cheeks; it was the first time she’d witnessed him so flustered. Lindsey arched an eyebrow, a teasing smile creeping onto her face. “So, are you two like…?”

“No,” Y/N replied, the denial tumbling out a bit too quickly.

Lindsey shot her a knowing look but chose not to press further. “Might want to let him know about that lipstick stain on his upper lip,” she added, rolling the cart out of the room and leaving Y/N feeling distinctly warm and flustered.

. . .

Harry kissed Y/N with the lights off on her front porch after dropping her home. Y/N melted against him, her fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened. She felt a rush of warmth spread through her, the sweet taste of his breath mixing with the fresh night air. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies fitting perfectly together. “Bambi,” He slurred against her lips.”

“Hm?” She hummed, unable to stop herself when she pulled him closer. 

“I was thinking,” He murmured, pulling away but his hands still firmly gripping her waist, “Maybe this weekend y’ could come to my place and stay the night.”

“The night?” She’d never had a sleepover before let alone one at a boys house. 

“Yeah… Would you be okay with that?” 

“Y-Yeah, I think so.”

“Y’ think so?” Harry grinned, “Are y’ sure?”

She smiled, “I’d like that.”

“Well, alright then,” he murmured, leaning down to place one last, soft kiss on her lips. “Goodnight, Bambi.”

“Goodnight, Harry.” Y/N barely suppressed a smile as she watched him walk to his car, a flutter in her chest as he turned back for a final wave.

Before she turned to step into her house, her phone buzzed and a text came through from Harry.

Harry: I think we have to get better at this whole sneaking around thing

Y/N: Tell yourself that, you kissed me first!

Harry: Can’t help it Bambi 

Harry: I’m obsessed with you

. . .

taglist ~~

@ravenclawmarvel @noididnotsignupforthis @comicalivy  @boomitsallie1 @hazzarules @squirreljoe @c3lline0 @harry2121 @lizsogolden @its-his-dimples @tchalametishot @youngpastafanmug @awritingtree @reidsblessing @idontcareforausernamesblog @madstyles3204 @cherrys4suckers @lomlolivia @tenaciousperfectionunknown

[starsandsuch]

Observations about how men from each Nakshatra act in dating & relationships 🏹 👩‍❤️‍👨 💌

Spilling the tea on men through the nakshatras , thank me later ladies 😌😉😏

Disclaimer : Mostly observations of public figures / personal experience/ what I’ve heard from friends. Feel free to add your experience!!

TW: some of these are really honest or 18+

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Ashwini men: very childish no matter how old they are. Can be possessive, kinda psycho with a violent streak.

Bharani men: don’t have much notes about them but from what I heard they are extremely possessive// many girls haves told me they’ve been stalked by bharani men. When their love is unrequited they will never let it go. Traditional and takes care of women. Masculine.

Krittika men: goofy and funny personality. Enjoys being babied by their partner.

Rohini men: know how to be the perfect storybook gentlemen. Prince Charming vibes. Very devotional to their partner. Seemingly innocent but are very s3xual individuals. Lowkey perverts. Can be stalkers.

Strives to satisfy their sexual craving within a relationship but will cheat on their partner to do so. Don’t put anything past them.

Mrigashira men: very intentional with who they chose to date. Specific criteria that only makes sense to them. The type to have a bunch of exes that all look identical to each other.

Seem like big heauxs but are loverboys on the low. They know how to please women on a fundamental level, theee most romantic and thoughtful gifts ever.

They like dating outside of their race, they tend to like girls who are flawless looking. If a Mrigashira man likes you, just know you’re probably a 10.

They can be misogynistic but are simultaneously obsessed with the opposite sex. They are really cute when they’re in love. They love playing mind games though.

Tend to be pretty boys, I notice they often have gay allegations on their reputations. They give bisexual vibes even if they’re straight.

Ardra men: similar to Mrigashira they are lover boys. They are used to dealing with rejection or unrequited love connections. They love hard but have trouble finding the right person for them , causing heartbreak in their love lives.

They are traditional in relationships. They act sad and emotional to get girls to like them. Their sad boy act is authentic sometimes but they are huge fboys too. Emotionally manipulative. Loves doing romantic gestures for their lovers. Very thoughtful gift giver.

Punarvasu men: they are like the ideal husband archetype . Caring, traditional, effectionate, generous. They are naturally feminine and understands what a women needs. However, they are very passive tho and end up being cucks in their relationships.

They attract more assertive women that energetically over power them. Classic Jupiter dominant man trope. Gets played a lot. Often friend zoned a lot too. Has weird fantasies.

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Pushya men: traditional and like taking care of a woman. They love pretty b!tches so if a Pushya guy likes you , you’re top tier. They are heauxs tho.

Ashlesha men: have serious mommy issues that get in the way of their romantic relationships. They are innately feminine and struggle expressing their masculinity in a healthy way. Very draining individuals. Tend to be romantic and generous, they are promiscuous tho.

Magha men: enjoys princess treatment from women, they like to be pursued by women. They are withholding with their energy and resources and usually women who date them leave the relationship with less then they started with. Misogynistic tendencies.

Purva Phalguni men: they tend to have all the qualities that women desire from men in relationships. Romantic , protective, generous , they are good at s3x. They are very devoted and romantic in a monogamous relationship. However they often have scandals in their love life that spoil their relationships and reputation.

They are very sexual and will go to great lengths to satisfy their sexual desires. These men have HIGH body counts. Usually involved in taboo relationships.

Uttara phalguni men: seem innocent and orderly but are s3x freaks. They are womanizers and pretend to treat women well to keep a good reputation but can have a negative side to them in private. Pervert-Chad vibes.

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Hasta men: cheap and feminine. They lie a lot. Haven’t heard great things about them.

Chitra men: feminine and tend to be himbos. I don’t think I ever met a straight chitra man? If they are straight they like being chased by women. Pretty boys.

Swati men: “Prince Charming takes you on a whirlwind romance” they like impressing women and like to be traditional. They have hot and cold vibes tho most women find impossible to deal with. They are eccentric and flighty. Emotionally unstable.

Vishaka men: will fight for the woman they really like. “Warrior/solider who defends the honor of the princess he’s in love with”. They are thots tho. Have a lot of drama in their love lives.

Anuradha men: falls in love hard. Devotional and romantic, will do grand romantic gestures for their partners. But tend to have addictive personalities and violent tendencies. Can have s3x addiction. Will stalk their love interests. Some have really creepy vibes and weird fantasies. Emotionally turbulent.

Jyeshta men: treat relationships like a game, they like collecting trophies and prizes, so they will date many women at once. They are generous and manly and good at manipulating women. Seemingly enjoy the attention of relationships more than the actual relationship. They like to chase. Lie a lot.

Mula men: traditional and kinda boring. Epitome of “she’s Barbie and he’s just Ken”. They are goal oriented, ambitious and logical. They tend to prioritize their career and desire a “trophy wife” to compliment them. Have stoic personalities and are straightforward and blunt.

Purva Ashdha men: traditional gentleman archetype. Very romantic in relationships. Kinda tend be players though. Pretty boys.

Uttara ashdha men: traditional and fatherly. Usually dates Sun nakshatra/ Leo women or women who have solar qualities like them. They like dating the “female version of themselves”. Doesn’t really understand the complexities of women. Typical “he’s just Ken” vibes.

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Shravana men: not really assertive in relationships. Likes hanging with the bros more than devoting self to a relationship. Not the most committed, but can be, but only if it’s connected to their social status. Usually marries their high school sweetheart. Not much notes for them.

Dhanishta men: complex relationships with women. A “bachelor” Nakshatra. Some of them hate women or only have a partner bc it’s socially acceptable. Likes the social status that comes with being with a beautiful woman. Doesn’t have successful relationships till later in life. Best suited towards “friends to lovers” relationships. Some are kinda innocent and virginal. Haven’t heard great d reports about them.

Shatabhisha men: surprisingly act very fatherly in relationships, enjoys taking care of the partner. Not the most emotional in relationships but tend to handle responsibilities well. Likes hanging w the bros prob more than their girlfriend. This nak in general is like the “ghost nakshatra” they will ghost pretty much anyone , and are hard to connect with. Sneaky & secretive. Tall & handsome.

Purvabhadrapada men: acts like a gentleman. huge heauxs. Although when they find “the one” they’ll move heaven and earth for her. Gomez and Morticia Addams vibes. Nonchalant about most relationships but women tend to go crazy for them. Usually has the hots for one women but will entertain many he doesn’t really care about. Makes great fathers.

Uttabhadrapada men: odd personalities in general. Can have trouble connecting with the opposite sex. Don’t have much notes about them. Kinda boring.

Revati men: are generous, assertive masculine. If they want you they’ll show it. Tend to like having a mommy figure as a partner. They are heauxs tho and always have a big roster. Very s3xual individuals. Major players. Immature.

[itaipava]

— f1 boys and the moment they go “fuck it”

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

you’re both a little drunk, but sober enough to know what you’re doing. he loves testing your limits, so he makes a bet with you over something trivial, promising a “prize” if you win. when you win and smile victoriously, he laughs and says, “i guess i owe you something special, right?” you nod, ready to receive whatever it is. he leans in, eyes shining, and whispers, “i hope this counts,” before giving you a kiss that feels playful and intense at the same time.

˒ ⌕ GEORSE RUSSELL

you’ve always had a fun friendship, where you could joke around and have fun with each other all the time, and tonight was no different. you’ve been teasing him all night, playfully testing his limits. he’s been patient, smiling, until you say something that pushes him over the edge, “oh you want to kiss me so bad right now,” you say playfully as he wouldn’t stop looking at your lips. he looks serious for a moment and you think he doesn’t like what you said, but he just gets even closer, his voice low and intense, “you have no idea how much,” before leaning in and kissing you, finally giving in to what he’s wanted for so long.

˒ ⌕ SEBASTIAN VETTEL

you're alone in your room while music plays. you thought you were alone and he was in the living room, but he was silently watching you sway, mesmerized. he always admired you from afar and never hid it, but at that moment, something changes inside him like never before. he thought a lot before doing it, but it was only when he stopped thinking that he finally did it: he approaches, puts a hand on your waist and, without saying a word, pulls you close, holding you as if you were the only two people in the world. you were startled by his sudden attitude, but you quickly melted in his arms as he hugged you and pulled you even closer to him while your lips were danced together.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

you’d never argued before, but at that moment, your nerves were on edge; you were both frustrated with each other. the room fell silent as the tension shifted, and he was staring at you, breathless. you tried to look away from him, but something about him held you back; he was a mess. suddenly, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that spoke of all the unspoken emotions between you, finally letting everything that had been bottled up come out.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

he watches you from afar as you talk and laugh with another guy, and even though he knows he has no claim, it still stirs something primal in him; he just couldn't stop staring at you, and you noticed it. later, when you're alone, you tease him about it and ask him why he couldn't stop looking at you like that. he knows you were having fun with the situation, but he wasn't. you thought it was no big deal, but for him it changed everything. "i hated seeing you with someone else," he finally admits, serious as he stares at you. you look at him for a few seconds and smile, he smiles back and takes your face, finally kissing you - and claiming you his.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

it’s late and you’re saying goodbye after spending the whole day together; he loves being with you, but he hates the time to say goodbye. it feels like time passes so quickly with you but so painfully slowly when you’re apart. he also knows that you hate goodbyes, so you’re lingering at the door, neither wanting to part. he takes your hand, holding it a little tighter, his thumb gently stroking your skin. “maybe… i don’t want to say goodbye yet,” he says and his eyes shine at you. he leans in, finally pressing his lips to yours as he places his hand on the back of your neck and the other on your waist.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

it’s late and you’re both tired from the party you just attended. people have started to leave, but you’re too busy with each other to care. you’re in the garden of the huge house, sitting on the grass and admiring the stars. he looks at you laughing at something he told you, your voice soft and open, and something inside him snaps. his heart starts to beat faster as he’s mesmerized by you. he blurts out, “sorry, i can’t pretend anymore,” and pulls you closer to him, his hands shaking with anticipation and desire as he finally takes your face carefully and kisses you, completely melting into the taste of you.

˒ ⌕ LIAM LAWSON

he loves listening to you and always listens attentively. but lately he hasn't been able to hold himself back: whenever you start talking, he has to look away or think about something else, because he's on the verge of finally giving in to you. you have a surprising effect on him that he's never felt before, and today was no different: while you're talking, he suddenly goes quiet, his eyes fixed on yours with an intense gaze. "sorry," he murmurs, "i know you're saying something important, but i just… i can't concentrate when you're so close." he's also surprised by what he just said, but he doesn't wait for an answer, pulling you into that kiss he's been holding back for so, so long.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

you’re both running to take cover from an unexpected downpour, and you’re both soaking wet, laughing and out of breath. he looks at you, hair drenched and eyes shining as you laugh, and realizes he can’t contain himself anymore. you’re the most beautiful and charming person he’s ever met in his life, and he can’t hide it anymore. he’s afraid of losing you; of losing the opportunity to finally be with you. so, without saying a word, he gently caresses your cheek and smiles with you before pulling you into a passionate kiss, with the rain running down both of you. in that moment, he felt like he was floating. in that moment, nothing else mattered, it was just you and him in the world.

[deadsnakey]

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒, 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋..𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄'𝐒.

𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐘!𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 𝐱 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐱 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄

—> Being childhood best friends with both Mattheo and Theodore was an adventure on it's own. Although, what if they start acting more possessive and protective towards you once they develop feelings for you?

Thank you for requesting @slutsluvpaola - your ask here!💗

—> Childhood best friends to lovers trope, very fluffy, maybe a little suggestive, none toxic possessive behaviour & jealousy.

—> When you guys were kids, they were protective of you.

—> If anybody was messing with you or hurting you, they'd do something about it asap like it was on sight and they always left that person scared shitless to even go near you.

—> To the point where ppl just stopped fucking w u like they didn't have the balls to even try.

—> Cool now y'all are in Hogwarts and as they get older, they seem to be more handsy and possessive over you.

—> I mean you weren't complaining all that much. although, it would get annoying sometimes when you just wanted some space or to talk to someone or do something without them breathing down your damn neck.

—> But in third year you started getting feelings for mattheo, then Theodore a month later and you were so confused.

—> You kept the act up, just like they did, but eventually it got harder to pretend in fifth year.

—> When they were always hands on with you - hand on your thigh, holding your hand each, always sitting next to you every chance they got, pulling you into their laps randomly as they wrap their arms around your waist and nuzzle their faces in the crook of your neck.

—> Yeah, you were a goner.

—> The boys probably started falling for each other in the end of fourth year, so in fifth when they started liking you as well they too, were extremely confused .

—> Mattheo was bad especially because he's bad with his own emotions.

—> They will be at every party you're attending too, trust.

—> even if one can't make it and it's js Matty going w you or just Theo, one of them had to be with you.

—> It doesn't matter if you're in the same house or not, better marking on you tbh.

—> Mattheo hands on your waist behind you, Theodore in front of you holding one of your hands to guide you.

"c'mon, sweet girl, let's get some drinks at the bar." Mattheo said, letting Theodore lead the way. Mattheo got a cup, filled it with the drink you wanted before handing it to you. "Here, princess." Then repeating for Theodore and then himself. Satisfied, they go and find the rest of your friends; seemingly in the corner where the seats are, talking.

"look who finally came! The love birds of the group." Lorenzo snickered. "How about you go see if you can get into that girls pants, you know, the one you're practically eye fucking." Mattheo rolled his eyes as he sneered back. "I just might, mate."

You go to sit down when you feel hands clamp down on your hips from behind you, pulling you down with enough force to not hurt you. You look behind yourself, seeing Theo with a smirk pulling on his lips. You let him pull you into his lap.

Mattheo lights a cigarette and inhales deeply before exhaling. He silently offers it to Theodore as he blows the smoke out; Theo leaning in and inhaling the smoke, slightly touching Matty's lips as they make eye contact. Mattheo slithers his hand onto your thigh, you feel the warmth of his hand spread through your skin as you feel the few cold rings he has on mixing with the warmth.

He squeezes your thigh almost the same time Theo squeezes your waist, "you okay, pretty girl? Need anything?" You look at mattheo on your right, "no, I'm okay Matty. You?", "I'm okay. Now that I have you two here with me." He mumbles the last few parts of his sentence, a slight smile appearing onto his lips. Although, he knows you two still heard him.

—> sometimes their clinginess gets so bad where they will not let you get up for breakfast. Good luck convincing them to not miss all your classes as well lol.

—> they love cuddling you and each other but they'd never admit that.

—> they only cuddle each other if you're unavailable or not at school (holiday n stuff).

—> Tiny kisses to the back of your neck, forehead, nose and hand. It's a good excuse to kiss you and they love when you kiss them, too

—> Matty prefers his cheek or forehead kissed, while Theodore his neck, jaw or cheek.

—> tho it'd be better on the lips.

—> they go to the bathroom w you too.

—> they don't care it's the woman's bathroom, they will be guarding your stall!!!!💗💗💗 They can never be too sure.

Reblogs, likes & comments are much appreciated!🫶🏻