#these two bring me comfort in these trying times

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon - chapter five | formula one imagine

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

one big car launch with every driver in attendance - what can go wrong?

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | SERIES MASTERLIST

whatever bright spark decided that formula one needed one big, fancy car launch must want y/n dead. here she stood in one of the many green rooms in a black dress that’s a little too tight and an absolute pain to sit down in.

on one side of the room george sits in his dressing gown being doted on five different people while he talks down the phone in a tone too loud for the crowded room. kimi, on the other hand, sits on the couch on the other side, having waved off all of the people trying to smear yet another cream on his face.

“are you just going to be haunting me all season?” george said as he hung up the phone. glaring at y/n through the mirror.

“if i’m haunting you, does that mean you did something wrong?” y/n gasps, “am i the skeleton in your closet, georgie?”

the mercedes personnel in the green room were still, almost waiting for it to hit boiling point and all spill over. george and y/n stared each other down, waiting for someone to make the next move. george steadily looked y/n up and down, not being subtle at all. y/n raised her eyebrow at the brit.

“i could get used to you in my colours,” george said with a smirk.

“bore off russell, i don’t wear anything for you. these will be seen as kimi’s colours before you know it.”

a knock on the door signalled the start of the show. george stood up and took off his robe, revealing the new mercedes racesuit for the season. the brit made his way to the door but before he left, he turned to y/n and said, “don’t get too comfortable, i have my eye on you”

“oh georgie, you always have,” y/n flirted before schooling her face, “and how has that worked out for you?”

the brit pointed to his racesuit, “better than it has for you.”

that was a low blow, but y/n was prepared to play it that way if that was the game for the season. george looked at her again, as if to challenge her, but y/n stayed silent though her stare was unwavering. she had said a lot worse about herself to herself after the crash.

with that george turned and left, calling out to alex down the corridor.

“i really don’t understand him,” kimi said, “it was only like a week or two ago he was cussing you out in monaco, then today he checks you out but then threatens you like two seconds later?”

“first lesson of the year, kimi. do not trust a word that man says to you.”

the pair linked arms and made their way out of the green room. there was a gaggle of drivers at the end of the corridor, all decked out in their racesuits except the ferrari boys who were in normal suits. the group fell silent as they all turned to see the new arrivals.

“i didn’t know it was bring your mum to work day?” alex called out as they neared the group, smiling as he came to hug her.

a french-accented voice hollered a ‘milf’ from the back of the group, y/n suspected it was pierre, but paid no mind. an offended squeak followed as y/n looked up to see max delivering a slap to the back of his head.

“i’m just dropping him off, i gotta get to my seat before i’m roped into an interview. i had to sneak in this afternoon, i swear sky sports are like stalking me!”

the group watched along as y/n leaned in to whisper into kimi’s ear, “remember what i told you. smile, be likeable and tell jokes. these people are underestimating you, let them. we’ll do our real talking in the car. good luck and try and have some fun.”

the pair did their ‘handshake’, which really was just a pinky promise, and broke apart. y/n looks back at the group one more time, smiles at max and takes her leave. just a couple paces down the corridor, a voice called out her name.

“y/n, hey!” lewis called, catching up to her quickly, “i didn’t think i’d see you back here tonight.”

“i wasn’t planning on it, to be fair. kimi is technically an adult now, but i still didn’t want to leave him on his own here of all places.”

lewis laughed as the pair looked back at the group. kimi had nestled himself next to ollie, quietly talking to each other with esteban looking over both of them. y/n caught the gaze of esteban and the frenchman gave her a quick nod before inserting himself into the conversation. the height difference between kimi and esteban was comical, but y/n was happy knowing esteban would look out for him in places she couldn’t be.

“i didn’t think you would like the whole mentor role, being so young and everything, but you seem to be doing a good job.”

“thank you lewis, but honestly he makes it very easy,” y/n looked at the group again with a fond look on her face.

lewis brought his hand to her face and made her look at him, “i thought i’d never see that look on your face again.”

y/n looked down and blushed, shaking lewis’ hand off. “i am happy. a lot happier than i expected to be, anyway.”

“i’m happy that you’re happy. i’m happy you’re back, i won’t keep my distance this time, even if you’re in the home of the enemy now.”

y/n laughed, “well i thought it was bad going back to your ex, and look at me now. so maybe they’re not as much as an enemy as you think.”

an announcement from further down the corridor cute the conversation there, lewis tries not to look bothered, but y/n can still tell.

“looks like you’re needed elsewhere, superstar,” y/n said with a wink, “try not to let charles outshine you too much.”

“he wishes.”

y/n watched him walk away and was confused. lewis had never expressed interest in her before, platonic or romantic. even when she was a young rookie with stars in her eyes, she was never on his radar. was she now? the visit in london had been weird and the way his eyes had been fixed on her since she arrived today was even weirder.

y/n didn’t really have the time to be grappling with that struggle today, not with everything else going on. the audience seemed like enough distance between her and lando, but after monaco, there was no real knowing what could happen. george was just as confusing as his compatriot, with harsh words but also a glimmer of something else too.

she needed a glass of champagne pronto.

max watched the interaction between y/n and lewis like a hawk, so focused that he didn’t realise that he had formed quite an audience. nico hulkenberg, kimi, ollie and esteban watched him try and conceal his feelings, but his face showed every thought.

“you want to make it any more obvious that you’re jealous?” nico said, nudging max to break him out of his daze.

“i’m not jealous, i just wonder what they actually have to talk about…”

“you’re not jealous you say? you didn’t even glare at him this much during 2021.” esteban chimed in.

max furrowed his brows and forced himself to look away. he already felt guilty for harbouring these feelings for y/n and now he’s faced with a curious look from kimi, making him feel even worse. he did not want to make the same mistake as lando and george had in the past. he meant it when he said he just wanted to exist with her.

“kimi, how would you feel about having max as your dad?” ollie said, hiding slightly behind esteban.

“he’s very good with the cats?”

“thanks, that’s such a glowing recommendation, kimi, thanks!”

kimi held up his hands in surrender but max couldn’t be angry at the italian - plus he did take very good care of his cats and brando. in fact, he had nearly thrown his back out, much to red bull’s chagrin, building a new cat tower so brando could watch the birds from his preferred spot. the cat had settled in well in his place in monaco while y/n had been staying, the dutchman didn’t want to think too much about what it could mean, but it was on his mind.

“i just mean i caught you googling how to make sure your cat is getting enough vitamin d because you were worried about how cloudy it’s been in monaco?”

kimi tried to backpedal, but his anecdote was overheard by more drivers, bringing them into the conversation.

“are you being for real? vitamins are just pseudoscience dude,” pierre said but isack popped his head into the circle to say, “vitamins are real? and vitamin d deficiency is actually a really huge problem.”

“thank you isack!”

“as if i’m taking health advice from a rookie,” pierre laughed. yuki took his turn to pipe up next, “i saw you eat a whole jar of peanut butter in one sitting last winter break? what do you know about health?”

“why is it gang up on pierre hour? why aren’t we focusing on the real issue here? like how pathetic max is about y/n?”

max sputtered as even more drivers joined the conversation.

“i am not pathetic. brando is practically my son. kimi back me up, doesn’t he love me?”

“he does -” kimi started defending max before charles butted in with a: “calling for help from the other son? we see how it is verstappen.”

this was a losing battle. max just hoped it stayed this light hearted but he saw lando and george approaching the group.

“max is not my dad, but i wouldn’t mind. he drove all the way to nice to pick up my parcel because i didn’t understand monaco postal charges!”

poor kimi was trying to help, but he was just making it inadvertently worse.

“this is making your pseudoadoption last year look like child’s play, oscar,” alex said, earning him a whack from charles.

“kimi is not my son, but that doesn’t mean i won’t look out for him. this is a horrible place to come when you’re already disliked. some people, not naming names, have made it clear they have a problem with him and y/n, so it’s simply my moral duty to look out for him.”

the group quietened down, looking amongst each other.

“why am i so out of the loop, who is bullying this literal child?” nico said, pulling kimi into his chest, the italian letting out a squeak as the german petted him. “so? do tell.”

for two people who were very eager to call y/n and kimi every name under the sun just a week ago, they were very silent in that moment.

“oh! we’re talking about the lovely cocktail party i threw that was ruined by lando and george!” charles blurted out, he grabbed fernando’s hand, “it was so nice, i even brought olives, but they came in spouting all this shit about y/n and kimi and seduction and older women?”

both brits scratched the backs of their necks. the cocktail party drama was not a good move from them, especially so close to the start of the season.

“it wasn’t quite like that?” george hurried out.

“you accused y/n of trying to sleep with me?” oscar said.

“you said that i was going the max verstappen route of getting with an older ‘problematic’ woman?” kimi added from nico’s side.

“you also kinda implicated yourself in y/n’s crash?” alex heaped on for good measure.

“alex!?” george and lando shouted, “whose side are you meant to be on?”

“i’m not on a “side” because i’m not fucking five, but i will point out hypocrisy and stupidity and that’s both of you. come on, it’s 2025 and you guys are still stuck in like 2017.”

“right, i feel really stupid because what the fuck are you people talking about and why wasn’t i invited to this party?” fernando said, a confused look on his face.

“lando and george are still hung up on y/n years later even though she never actually expressed interest in them, max has the best odds on actually sealing the deal and i don’t know, kimi is getting shit because he brought her back and none of them can actually regulate their emotions!” charles said, exasperated, “keep up grandpa, you’ve been here the whole time!”

“i do not have the ‘best odds’ because y/n isn’t a horse, you don’t bet on women?” max bit back.

“actually i bet on women all the time,” yuki said but when he saw how the group were looking at him he added, “ufc, duh!”

even as they were herded towards the backstage, the group continued bickering like children.

“all i’m saying is that your crush is super obvious and you need to be careful! y/n will know and will use it against you, just look at what happened with me and george!” lando hissed at max.

the dutchman glared at the brit, this really had gone too far. “can you like actually give me an example of where she ‘led you on’ i am genuinely curious,” max snipped, “quickly.”

lando immediately looked at the floor and bit his lip. max began tapping his foot with an impatient look.

“well she would be super flirty with me in the videos the team would make us film?” lando didn’t sound convinced, and max didn’t buy a single second of it.

“if that’s what you think flirting is i feel sorry for all of your ex girlfriends, you must be a horrible boyfriend - ouch!” charles was cut off by a shove from george.

“stay out of this charles!”

“i won’t stay out of this, y/n is actually a friend of mine. yeah that’s right she doesn’t hate me because i don’t assume that any girl who is fractionally nice to me is in love with me.”

“lando you basically tortured that girl her entire formula one career, do you need to do it now as well?” max said, “i think this season will be a lot easier for you if you drop this now.”

“is that a threat?”

“it’s a promise.”

all the bickering surrounding the pair ceased, tension rising in the air. the call for the mclaren boys drew lando out of his stare down with max. the brit joined oscar at the front of the queue and painted on his PR smile.

y/n had found her way to her seat, flanked by natalie pinkham on one side and jenson button on the other. there goes her plans for a quiet evening.

“so the rumours are true,” jenson said before jumping up to give her a hug, “i’ve missed you, rocky”

y/n flushed at the nickname. since her first ever race in formula one, jenson had crowned her his ‘pocket rocket’ which had eventually been worn down to just rocky. she hadn’t heard it in so long, jenson’s appearances being relegated to messages via sara or flowers that only gave away his identity with the use of rocky.

“did sky set up this seating arrangement? are you going to ambush me for an interview?”

“i can’t believe you’d think so low of me,” jenson clutched at his imaginary pearls, “and as if you can say no to me anyway.”

the pair took their seats as the show started. natalie handed her a glass of champagne and whispered in her ear, “you might need this.” well that doesn’t bode well.

the two mclaren drivers made their way out onto stage, joined by zak and andrea. y/n leaned into jenson, “i don’t understand why he insists on being everywhere, have we not suffered enough?”

jenson tried to stifle his laugh, “are you sure you don’t want to work in commentary?”

“i think it’s best i keep my opinion on these men to myself.”

the mclaren spiel followed the closely the same scripts they used when y/n still raced for them, though a healthy dose of constructors champions boasting had been added. a second questionable decision from formula one reared it’s head when nico rosberg asked his first unscripted question:

“so boys, how do you feel about the return of former mclaren driver y/n y/ln to the paddock? excited to see her?”

y/n swore she could see lando’s eye twitch from her front row seat. there was an awkward pause and y/n could feel the rest of the audience tense. even though the general public didn’t know the ins and outs of the fall out, there was definitely rising suspicion.

nico found y/n in the audience and gave her such a shit-eating grin that she almost didn’t care about the situation he just put her in.

“we’re of course over the moon to see her back in the paddock. i know i’ve harboured a lot of guilt as to how i ended up with my seat, so i’m happy that y/n can see me in action and hopefully i can continue to make her proud!” oscar said with a genuine smile, the only convincing one from the men clad in orange.

“continue to?” nico asked, “have you had confirmation of this?”

y/n’s eyes snapped to oscar who despite receiving glares from his boss, continued on.

“we spoke at charles’ cocktail party. i’ve always been a fan of hers and it was great to finally set the record straight. she was a lot more graceful than i would’ve been in her position. to be honest i was a bit of a weepy mess, but she was very supportive. i’m only slightly jealous of kimi…”

“very nice. did you get any insight on her opinion on hungary?” nico pushed, only to be cut off by zak.

“if you so desperately want her opinion on everything, you can wait until you’re on sky’s dime. this is a car launch, no? we’re confident in our car for this season and intend on winning both championships. and do you know how we’re going to do that? with the two drivers on stage right now, not one who was a flash in the pan four years ago.”

you could hear a pin drop in the venue. even lando had a shocked look on his face as he and oscar exchanged a look.

“that’s fighting talk from the man who ended her career, but what do i know?” nico said sharply but then turned to the audience, “ladies and gentlemen, mclaren!”

there was tentative applause from crowd and when y/n and oscar made eye contact she gave him a small smile. this was only the first team…

nico looked for y/n in the front row and gave her a thumbs up to which she shook her head violently. jenson burst out laughing, “well, i don’t think we’ll be having this as the car launch format again.”

“i don’t know about you but i’m throughly entertained,” natalie said, “if nico was like that with mclaren, i can’t wait for ferrari!”

the next few teams were decidedly less dramatic. y/n could see kimi and george lining up next to come on stage and she hoped the italian remembered her advice.

george walked on stage with confident strides, followed by toto and finally kimi. the italian looked out at the audience, squinting from the harsh lights but calming his features when he saw y/n. she gave him a thumbs up and got a smile in return.

“you’re loving this mum role aren’t you?” jenson said.

“you’re making me feel old, stop. but yes i would kill myself if anything happened to him, so i guess so.”

back on stage, nico had started his interview. first toto was being grilled about the hopes for the season and how life at mercedes would be without lewis hamilton. the german was clearly trying to bait his former boss into giving him a juicy soundbite.

“kimi, let’s come to you now. you’re first season in formula one and you’ve already brought in the big guns? y/n y/ln as your mentor, that’s a big statement.”

kimi looked startled and his eyes snapped to meet y/n’s. she nodded to him, urging him to answer.

“why wouldn’t i want a legend of the sport like her as my mentor? she still knows what she’s doing, and if it ruffles some feathers in the paddock at the same time, what’s the harm?”

she was so proud of her protégé. jenson choked on his champagne at kimi’s answer, “kids got balls.”

“well, well, well. you’re not beating around the bush are you? but do tell me, kimi, what’s so special about you that y/n would come out of retirement?”

“i’ll save that answer for australia, nico,” kimi said, surprised by the laughs from the audience, “but maybe i’ve just got a charm the rest of the grid doesn’t?”

“holy shit,” natalie said, “was this the strategy, y/n?”

“i told him to make them like him? are you not entertained?”

nico, for once, was speechless on stage. george huffed next to toto, waiting for his turn to talk. the german clocked onto this and a devilish smile broke out on his face.

“so george, you and y/n grew up together… do you not have charm? as far as we can tell, you haven’t spoken to y/n in years?”

y/n’s mouth dropped open. jenson was right, there’s no way this format, at least with nico hosting, was ever happening again.

“i have more than enough charm, thank you nico. are you going to ask us anymore questions about the season or is it all just tabloid questions from you tonight?”

“tabloid?! well, now that makes me think you’ve got something to hide… but as for your 2025 season, are you afraid that you might lose to an 18-year-old rookie?”

george sputtered in response, “i have no fear of losing, i just beat a seven time world champion, a rookie, no offence, has no bearing on my season.”

“that’s a big claim, george. you better hope you stick to it. it’ll be your sixth season in formula one, do you think you’ll finally be able to claim the number one driver role?”

george’s face was getting redder and redder as he tried to remain calm. he made eye contact with y/n briefly, giving her the subtlest glare he could.

“i think i made a very good case for myself for the last two seasons and toto has faith in me to lead this team back to where they should be.”

nico had a wolfish grin on his face, he was enjoying this psychological torture a little too much.

“you don’t think toto has more faith in kimi, a driver he allowed to skip an entire step on the junior ladder and is giving his formula one debut at just 18? and straight into a mercedes rather than say… a williams?”

george’s shiny mask was starting to slip. this was meant to be a fun event for fans but had descended into a nico rosberg masterclass of making everyone suffer - and for once y/n was enjoying it.

“classy as always, nico,” george said.

“it’s what i do best,” nico laughed to himself, “back to you kimi, are you intimidated at all by your senior teammate? do you think you can make a case for yourself as the number one driver?”

the italian paused for a moment, thinking to y/n’s advice - he needed people to like him.

“i’m more than happy to play a team game to bring mercedes back to the top,” he smiled to toto, “but make no mistake i’m here to win and i won’t just step aside without good reason.”

“well, this is a duo i’ll be watching closely this season. mercedes!”

the trio shuffled off of stage and y/n let out a sigh of relief, she could throw back as much champagne as she wanted now.

another couple of teams made their way past nico’s questioning, but as nico hulkenberg and gabriel bortoleto made their way off of the stage the audience held their breath. next was ferrari.

charles, lewis and fred vasseur made their way on stage, and as has become classic fashion, lewis situated himself as far from nico as possible.

“welcome, welcome. a different line up this year and much to think about, do you think you can finally bring the championship back to italy?”

fred started on what was likely a pre-written script and y/n tuned out for a second. the ferrari boys looked nothing short of glamorous in their tailored black suits with the yellow of the ferrari logo popping on the left breast. both men looked assured, no nerves, just pure confidence - the type of confidence that draws you to a person.

y/n caught lewis’ eye and he gave her a quick wink, something that did not go unnoticed by jenson beside her.

“what was that all about, rocky?” jenson whispered. y/n kept looking forward, ignoring jenson’s stare burning into the side of her head. the brit kept poking her, “i’m not going to stop until you answer me!”

y/n batted his hand away, “i don’t know what you’re talking about old man, leave me alone!”

“i saw that, hell, the whole place saw that! you are aware that is a man 14 years your senior!”

y/n downed her champagne and whispered to jenson, “listen, i don’t know what the fuck is happening! he came to my apartment and he’s being really nice? i don’t know?!”

jenson looked between the two and grabbed his own champagne. “i was teammates with that guy! you might be a grown up now but he’s really old!”

y/n slapped a hand over her mouth to stop her laughing out loud. jenson did have a point. was lewis actually flirting with her or was he just being nice? was she falling into the same headspace that lando and george were in with her?

“i am not going to get with lewis, jens. he’s just being nice, that’s all. now shut up i want to see if nico makes the brocedes breakup all of our problem.”

nico had finished his interrogation of charles and set his sights on his former teammate. y/n grabbed jenson’s hand in anticipation.

“so lewis, new team, new you? how do you feel coming into a team where charles has dominated for the last five years?”

lewis gives nico a forced smile, “i am excited for the challenge. there’s a lot of changes coming into this season, people leaving and new faces. it’s best to face a challenge head on rather than running.”

“you didn’t run from mercedes? you didn’t want to stick it out and retire with the team that gave you so much success?”

“you’d know all about running wouldn’t you nico?”

y/n dropped her glass of champagne and the rest of the audience gasped but nico did not look phased at all.

“i am happy with my decision, time will tell if you’ll be happy with yours. charles dealt with sebastian, don’t think he’ll roll over for you.”

charles looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but on stage and fred’s face would tell you he’s at the gallows rather than a car launch.

“was in your brief today to make the vibes in here as rancid as possible? as i said i am excited for the season ahead and nothing you can say today will change that.”

lewis took the lead and left the stage, leaving nico alone with a pleased look on his face. the german found y/n’s gaze again and wiggled his eyebrows. if there was ever a man you need to take the heat off of you, he was the one.

there was one final team to go and this entire nightmare of a night would be over. the final team was none other than red bull - nothing could possibly go wrong here could they?

christian, like the other team principals, started with a long-winded spiel that said a whole lot of nothing. y/n smiled widely when she caught max’s eye and he responded with an eye roll directed at christian’s rambling. the dutchman, for a second, had forgotten he was in fact on stage in front of thousands. the pair stare at each other and bite their lips to keep the laughs in.

jenson leaned in again, “not to keep questioning you, but what is happening here? and don’t lie, i know he’s the only one you kept in contact with and who you have been staying with in monaco.”

“it’s nothing! it’s something? i don’t know what it is? we’re just existing together. i think romance in the paddock is the worst thing for me right now. i need to be fully focused on kimi.”

“first of all - we’re exisiting together? that’s so fucking gross. and two - you’re still allowed to have fun?” jenson wiggled his eyebrows.

“not everyone can be the playboy of formula one, stud.”

“true. i’m not sure you have the devilishly good looks to be a playboy - hey”

y/n snatched his glass of champagne and turned back towards the stage just as max took to the microphone.

“so max, do you think there’s a chance of a fifth title in a row?”

max laughed in his signature way, “here i thought you’d gotten all of your aggression out with lewis. we’ll have to see how we line up against the other teams, but you always have to believe you can win every single race, so that’s what i’ll continue to do.”

a quick glance from nico told y/n that her peaceful night hadn’t started just yet.

“you’ll finally have your best friend back in the paddock, are you still excited even though she’ll be in mercedes uniform?”

“i think toto has another thing coming if he thinks she’ll be wearing that ugly uniform,” max said, “but it makes no difference to me what garage y/n is in, we’re like magnets, you can’t keep us a part for long.”

nico hummed, “is that why you were the only one she kept in contact with after the crash?”

“yes? it’s mostly because we’re best friends but also because i’m a decent human being.”

oh fuck.

“how do you mean, max?”

christian tried to butt in, “i don’t think we need to go into that here.”

“oh i’m more than happy to, and nico has been stirring all night, what’s just a little more to add to the pot?”

you could almost hear the audience shuffling to the edge of their seats and for the first time that evening, y/n felt some of the cameras on her. she gave them a small wave and hoped they would pan back to the actual action.

“all i’m saying is that there are a lot of victim complexes in the paddock, it’s full of people who would rather say ‘i don’t know why she doesn’t talk to me?’ rather than do some actual introspection. y/n will talk to you if you’re not an asshole, just as kimi.”

“so you’re saying there’s a truth to the rumours?”

“which rumours? you know, since your employers like to report on so many?”

nico chuckled, “well, the rumours that perhaps the brits in the paddock didn’t get on as well as we were led to believe?”

max smiled, “well, that’s not my story to tell, but i’ve found that if you ask them, they’re more than happy to give you the scoop.”

for a moment, y/n’s heart stopped, fearing that nico would take this as the chance to bring her into the fray. max seemed to sense this as well and added, “but as for me, i’m just happy she’s back in any capacity. i’ve missed my partner in crime.”

“have you spoken about formula one in her break at all? you won all four of your titles in that time?”

“i know she watched it, but we haven’t spoken about it. i respected her boundaries at the time, but i knew she was watching based on some suspiciously timed texts.”

nico laughed, “i’m not sure we can ever stay away from this sport for long.”

“i’m glad that is the case,” max said, more to himself than anyone else.

the red bull boys were ushered off of the stage as nico delivered his closing remarks and announced the musical guests.

“he’s glad that’s the case? oh he’s in deep,” jenson gasped, “you can’t tell me that’s nothing, i rebuke it right this second.”

y/n sighed, standing and heading to the backstage bar. “i really don’t want to think about it jenson.”

“but you’re staying at his house, he’s building shit for your cat and gushing about you on stage!”

“i am well aware, but i don’t really know what you want me to do about that?”

“i want you to get your man and let him treat you how you’re supposed to be!”

y/n picked up another glass of champagne, talking the biggest sip before replying to jenson.

“you’re just as bad as the girls on twitter sometimes.”

kimi bursts through the doors, back in his comfy clothes, and rushes over to y/n. she wraps the italian into a hug.

“i’m so proud of you!”

kimi blushes, rocking back and forth on his feet, “thank you, y/n! i’m so glad we’ve got this out of the way i’m ready to race now!”

jenson laughed along side them, “an eager one, this one. i remember when i had that much energy.”

the rest of the drivers flooded into the room, grabbing drinks or just taking a seat. max, much like kimi, made his way straight to y/n, also pulling her into his chest. he whispered in her ear, “i’m sorry i got carried away talking about you, i just can’t help myself.”

y/n can’t help but feel the butterflies in her stomach at the confession. she was really trying to keep her feelings out of her return to formula one, but seeing max like this was putting a real spanner in the works. the dutchman’s protective nature along side his intense respect for her made her feel special for the first time since the crash.

“i take no offence, maxy. i’ll never say no to a compliment, especially from you.”

the group moves away from the bar and as they settle into their seats backstage, max’s arm wraps around her waist. y/n knew she shouldn’t do it, not here in front of everyone but that’s what her heart wanted. the first few weeks into her return and all the drama was wearing on her and they hadn’t even made it to the paddock yet. she snuggled into max’s side, letting the dutchman brush her hair out of her face.

“y/n?” kimi said from the other side of her, “i’m really happy you’re here, and i hope you’ll let yourself have this,” kimi motioned to max, who was deep in conversation with jenson.

“don’t you worry about that, kimi.”

“you’ve punished yourself for years, please don’t keep telling yourself that you’re not allowed this. also don’t wait up for me, i’m going to crash at ollie’s”

kimi said as his departing gift as he went to catch up with ollie and watch some of the music. y/n let herself relax back into max’s hold and her eyes close, all of the pent up stress of the evening rushing out.

“are we really that boring?” jenson asked.

“do you want to get out of here, y/n?” max asked, when y/n flopped further onto him, he took that as his answer.

grabbing her bag, max took y/n’s hand in his and pulled her from the seat. the pair exchanged hugs with jenson and made a quiet exit from backstage. they tried to be as subtle as possible, but nothing is ever secret in formula one.

jenson slid in beside lewis at the bar.

“you want to tell me what your plan is with her?”

lewis looked at his former teammate in confusion.

“i saw that wink and i know you were flirting with her when you went to her apartment. what’s the plan, you’re 14 years older than her?”

“i don’t have a plan? i felt bad about how i was when she was in formula one, i’m just trying to make her feel welcome again.”

“and winking at her at a televised event is definitely going to help?”

lewis scoffed, “i don’t really like what you’re implying.”

“i’m implying that you need to watch your step, seriously. the vultures are just waiting for her to make one wrong step, don’t give them an excuse to call her a gold digger or anything along those lines.”

“and what if i said i did like her?”

“i’d ask you if you actually know her? you didn’t speak to her after the crash, you didn’t speak to her when she was in the sport so i’m confused to where this would have come from?”

“you can drop the dad act jenson, i’m just being friendly. it looks like max got in there first anyway.”

jenson hummed, “not everything is a competition.”

y/n and max climbed into max’s hire car for the weekend and finally let themselves breathe.

“that was a lot,” y/n said, slipping off her heels, “nico really was out for blood.”

“i found it entertaining, but that usually is a death wish for anything in formula one.”

the pair laughed, and as max turned the ignition, y/n’s taylor swift playlist crackled into life.

“are you heading back to your hotel or do you want to crash at mine?” y/n asked as she put her address into the gps, despite max knowing nearly every route across london to her apartment.

“a chance to avoid team duties for as long as possible? count me in!”

“so you don’t want to spend more time with me? just want to avoid your team?”

max placed his hand on her thigh, “you know i always want to spend more time with you.”

the streets were relatively clear at this time with the event still in swing. max weaved through traffic as they entered west london. the dutchman nestled his car in y/n’s spot for her pink cadillac that was still in monaco. y/n started to fiddle with her heels to put them back on, but max stopped her.

he walked round to her side of the car and picked up her up bridal style. y/n giggled and wrapped her arms around max’s neck. the pair made their way up to her apartment as fast as possible, but made sure to say hi to frank who not so subtlety gave y/n a thumbs up and a wink.

the apartment was quiet without the meows of brando who was also back in monaco with jimmy and sassy. max stopped in the kitchen to pour two glasses of water but y/n went ahead to the bathroom to wash off the grime of the event.

she slipped into bed dressed in her pjamas that consisted of some old gym shorts and one of max’s toro rosso shirts. the dutchman knocked on her door.

“come in, maxy.”

max made his way into the room, placing the glass of water on her beside table. he sat on the edge of the bed, “good night, try not to dream of me too much.” the dutchman leaned down to give her a kiss on the forehead before moving back towards the door.

“max?”

“yes?”

“will you stay with me?”

“always.”

max got under the covers and tentatively reached out to her. sensing the apprehension, y/n turned over and tucked herself under max’s chin. his arms snuck around her waist and for the first time in three years, y/n finally slept peacefully without the images of her crash.

fin.

note: sorry this took so long, i've been a bit of a writing rut but i'm back!

taglist: @folkloresreputation @hc-dutch @shimmermotorsport @96mcobo @eclipsedcherry @formulaal @czennieszn @gothicwidowsworld @emily-b @suns3treading @henna006 @kazgirl20 @anotherapollokid @littlegrapejuice @daemyratwst @annimausi @yawn-zi @lulu-1998 @xsilkesworld @justaf1girl @daddyslittlevillain @evans-dejong @abq654 @elizamoe133 @wierdflowerpower @t1nkerbel1 @okcurran @raizelchrysanderoctavius @skepvids @multilovebot @fernandoalonso14 @jules-kup-172 @m4xgirlie @rorabelle15 @minkyungseokie @formula1-motogpfan @peterholland04 @miureiz @freyathehuntress @lighttsoutlewis @aleatorio1234 @chaosandevelyn@blueberry648579@dog-and-cat-person230@fastandcurious16@obxstiles@cosmicwintr@becca388510@savagittariuspy@tibadi @thisbitxhs-blog @finn-dot-com @scenesofobx @moofilms @alilstressyandlotdepressy @nana-love-bugzzz @mayax2o07 @obsessed-fan-alert @1-queenofpotatoes-1 @jajouska @poppysrin @mimimarvelingmarvel @jiyumie @heeseungthel0ml 

[justmeinadaze]

Reflection (Eddie X Y/N)

A/N: This idea came to mind after thinking about a conversation I had last night with a friend. (Yeah let's not talk about it.)

Enjoy <3

Warnings: Rockstar Eddie & Fem Y/N, daddy kink (cause im me), phone sex, LOTS of dirty talk, established relationship, fluff

Word Count: 1242

“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.”, you giggle as he grins at the sound.

“I always forget how much I miss your laugh till I haven’t heard it in almost three days.”, the rockstar sighs into the phone receiver. “I wish I could see your face.”

“I know, baby. Did they say when you guys would be headed home?”

“Naw. All I know is this week we’re doing another photo op and some event thing I know absolutely nothing about. I don’t fucking get why we ALL have to be there.”

“I mean its Corroded Coffin attending not just, you know, Jeff and some friends.” Eddie exhales again as his thumb gently caress the picture of you two he keeps in his wallet. “What are you thinking about, honey?”

“I’m thinkin’…about how much I miss you…and how nice it would be to fall asleep with you in my arms. I’m thinkin’…about when I took on our date to the Starcourt mall and how fucking beautiful you looked in that black dress with your red converse.”

“You loved ‘em. Look I don’t own nice shoes! Not at that time anyway.”, you laugh, getting more comfortable on your bed that seemed way too big when the metalhead wasn’t there. “We went to the photobooth outside the movie theater and took those goofy pictures.”

Eddie beamed as he took in each little square of the photos with you two smiling like dorks. The last few frames were his favorite especially the last one where your hands were cupping his cheeks as his forehead leaned against yours. After the flash went off, he kissed you, knowing in that moment that you were the girl he was going to marry one day. 

Tilting his head back against the headboard of the hotel bed, his eyes met his own reflection as he smirked at the mirrors above him. 

“You know being on the road has given me some interesting ideas for our bedroom.”

“Oh yeah? Deviant ideas or decorating ideas?”

“Both.”, he chuckles. “My hotel room here on the strip has mirrors above the bed.”

“Oh my god, Eddie.”

“Oh, come on, sweetheart. I can see you from every angle especially when you’re riding me.”

“Eddie…”, you slightly pant his name and his smile grows as he watches himself reach into his sweatpants and pull out his half hard cock. “I…don’t know how to…we’ve never…”

“I like when you get all shy and innocent.”, he teases making your face warm. Listening to him spit on the other end has your pussy clenching and you allow your own hand to roam as it slides under the waistband of your panties. “Just talk to me, baby. That’s all you have to do until I can come home and Daddy can take care of his pretty girl properly.”

When you giggle, he pictures you doing it; your face ducking down trying to hide from his eyeline.

“Come on, princess. Tell me what you’re wearing.”

“I always wear one of your shirts when you aren’t here. It smells like you, Daddy.”

“Aw, baby. I always have my pictures of us. I bring them everywhere with me so I can see your face. Do you, uh, are you wearing any panties or a bra?”

“No bra…just my panties. The little red ones you like.”

“With the rose on the band?” A mixture of a pant and a laugh escape his lips when you confirm. “Fuck, I love pulling those down with my teeth.”

Eddie hears you giggle but it sounds muffled, telling him you’re biting your bottom lip which drives him crazy at the sight. Even just imagining it has his cock stiffening more in his grasp and he utilizes the little beads of precum to lubricate himself more. 

“W-What are you wearing, Daddy?”

“My, uh—fuck—my black sweatpants and some boxers. I pushed them down enough so I can…you know.”

“No, baby, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?”, you tease. 

“There’s my girl. My little sarcastic pain in my ass.”, he laughs as you do the same.

“You love me.”

“Always. Fuck…I’m pumping my dick with my fist. Are you touching yourself, pretty girl?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m—mmph—rubbing my clit…wishing it was your tongue.”

“Shit—good girl. C-Can you imagine if we had these mirrors, baby? Y-You could watch me suck and fuck you with my tongue while my fingers spread you open.”

“Fuck, Daddy.”

“God, Y/N, you’re making me so hard. Put a couple of your fingers inside that tight little pussy for Daddy, baby.”, Eddie mewls as he thrusts his hips subtly against his fist. 

He hears your whimpers on the other end and his eyes roll back.

“Tell me how it feels, sweetheart.”

“Feels…feels good, Daddy. I’m so wet. I-I’m picturing watching you on top of me…if we h-had those mirrors—fuck—seeing my legs wrapped around you as you fuck me into the mattress.”

“Just like that, Y/N. Mmph—keep going.”

“Oh my God… seeing your ass as you pound into me…O-Or when you put my leg over your shoulder…I can watch your big cock disappear inside of me…Daaaddy.”

You could hear the light smacking sound of his fist as he picked up his pace and his head flew back as his eyes squeezed shut listening to you struggle to catch your breath. 

“Beg me to cum, baby. Beg Daddy to cum.”

“P-Please, Daddy. I need you to cum for me.”

“W-Where do you want it, sweetheart.”

“Ah…in…inside my pussy, Daddy, please.”

“Oh, f-fuck.”

Eddie grunted as he curled into his body, his release erupting and hitting his hand as he pictured himself filling you up. At the sound, your heavy pants filled his ear, listening to you whine as the coil snapped. 

“Oh my God.”

“Y-You ok, beautiful?”

“Yeah…did, um, did I do good?”

“You did better than good, Y/N. Fuck, that was amazing. Who knew you had such a dirty mouth.”

You laughed at his joke as you listened to his voice strain knowing he was reaching for a towel to clean himself with.

“You know what another benefit of those mirrors would be?”

“What, baby?”

“Afterward, when I hold you, I can finally get a good look of your entire face especially when your head is on my chest.”

“Eddie.”, you coo his name and again, he chuckles as he places the picture of you two back in his wallet pausing at the little blue box he had placed near it after coming back to the hotel that afternoon. 

“I, um, I think I’m coming home a bit early.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to get in trouble or anything.”

Nerves radiate through him as he balances the box on his fingers before flipping it open to display the modest little diamond engagement ring inside. 

“Naw, sweetheart, I won’t get in trouble and even if I do fuck them. You’re more important to me than anything else. Plus, I, uh, got you something I really want to give you.”

“Eddie, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know I didn’t HAVE to. I wanted to. I’ve actually been looking for this particular thing for a while.”

“Edward Munson, if it’s mirrors, I swear to God…”

Eddie cackles as he closed the box and set it back next to his wallet. 

“Pfft, after what I just heard, I’ll bet you ten bulks you’ll already have them installed before I get home.”

#############

Eddie Masterlist

[anas-aspiration]

Sevika and Abby two timing me is the only thing on my mind

Sevika is in front using my mouth and Abby is in the back using my cunt pls I’m actually clawing at the cages of my enclosure

Sevika x reader x Abby

(Collage of Sevika and Abby from firefli6es on Pinterest)

Warnings: oral Sevika!receiving, strap r! receiving, sub space r!receiving

The room is warm, or maybe it’s the heat between your bodies making you sweat. You sit on your knees at the edge of your bed looking up at the ceiling. You’re completely gone. The only thing you can comprehend is the feeling of Sevika licking heart shapes against your skin, Abby massaging her way down your back, her breath heavy against your skin, and Sevikas hands gripping your waist.

You bite your bottom lip to stifle your whines. You feel a firm hand grab your chin and you are met with Sevikas stern gaze.

“None of that. We wanna hear you.” She hissed, looking deep into your eyes.

You nodded. “please just kiss me.’’

“Me first.” Abby exclaims before turning your face to roughly kiss you. It was intoxicating, the way she leaned further and further into you with each swipe of her tongue onto yours. It was like she was trying to capture every bit of the moment before Sevika took her turn with you, and you both knew she would. It was after you felt Sevika marking your neck that she forced your lips onto hers. She was messier than Abby, sucking your tongue viciously and filling the room with lewd noises.

“uh-mm!” you gasped as Abby slid her strap inside of you.

Sevika smirked, standing above you arched your back further into her with each thrust from abby.“You like that baby? Abby Making you feel good? Yeah I bet you love it.”

“Yeah she’s fucking soaked.” Abby groans.

Your knees buckle and you fall forward onto all fours. Now you’re level with Sevikas crotch. You can already feel your mouth watering. One thing Sevika loves is to use your mouth. She describes it as being made specially for her.

“Ah, here we go.” She whispers softly.

You swallow as she brings your face to her clit. You begin working your tounge against her, earning a groan from her. It became harder to focus with Abby still grinding into you from behind. Though you used everything in you to make Sevika pleased.

“Shit, doing so well baby.” Abby mumbles.

You whimper into Sevika, coming out as more of a hum.

“Keep doing that. Fuck, gonna make me come.” Sevika throws her head back.

You don’t hold back, which is easy because each thrust from behind if bringing you closer to your climax. You moan relentlessly into sevika causing her to come, with you following close behind. You whined loudly watching stars dance around in your vision. Sevika held you against her cunt firmly as you both fell apart. Abby kept hitting your soft spot while you came down.

“Stop, uh! it’s too much.” you breathed out.

“What this?” Abby slammed into you with force as a mockery.

Your muscles became weak as you slumped into the bed.

“It’s okay baby you can take it.” Sevika soothed you as she ran her hands through your hair in a comforting manner.

As you took Abby, it didn’t take long for her to climax as well. Her face contorted into pure pleasure as she came down.

“Alright let’s get you cleaned up” Sevika whispered, as she scooped you up into her hands. You definitely got the best sleep of your life that night.

A/n!: kind of basic loll but hope you liked this! 😛🐹 life has been insanely busy, i hardly get a break but can’t be mad i got a lot on my plate when my goal was to EAT💜! More coming sooner than usual, trust.

[filthygalli]

When I met you: Chapter 1 “Package”

Fem! Reader x Neighbor! Hwang In-Ho

Main Master list

Squid Game Master list

Genre/Tags: Grumpy x Sunshine, Light smut, Fluff, Angst, Slow burn, Age gap (Reader is in her early 30’s, While In-Ho is in his late 40’s.) Rude In-Ho (but will eventually be soft with the reader Soon!) Literature Professor! In-Ho (Not specified what kind of literature) More Tags to come soon!

Warnings: Rude In-Ho, Some mild cursing, In-Ho’s stubborn cat Lmao, Not proof read so please bear with me.

Word Count: 1989

Author's Note: I've been writing this since earlier this morning, I was so intrigued about the song and I can't help but think 'Why not do a fiction story about In-Ho using this song as an inspiration?' then here am I, publishing the first chapter of the said fiction, I'll try to make this a long series! 🖤

< Series Master list | Next >

You worked as a graphic designer for some big company, even though you worked from home—you enjoyed what you were doing; you're a person who doesn't like to interact with so many people, except your friends, family, or someone who's close to you.

You've been working as a graphic designer for 3 years. You've gained enough money to buy a house—it's perfect for you, 2 bedrooms with one bathroom each—a cozy living room, kitchen, and a backyard that you turned into a garden. But honestly, it's too much for what you do for a living, but again, you're more than grateful.

You visit your hometown once in a while to spend some time with your parents and friends; you're more than happy to have them support you in the path that you chose. Whenever you visit, your mom always cooks your favorite dishes, while your dad, well…he always teases you about settling down. Honestly, seeing yourself being in a relationship is crazy; you're a busy person, and you're afraid that you might end up with someone who's not fit for your job and likings.

“Sweetheart, it's just…you're too devoted to your job. I know you hate it every time I tell you about this, but there's someone out there for you—who’s going to understand your busy days.” Your dad gave you a comforting look. It's true, you're too devoted to what you're doing, and you can't even go out on a date without making an ‘excuse’ that you're busy and something has come up, but the truth is…you're just afraid. Afraid that no one will love you for being a busy person, and it sucks.

You gave your dad a shy smile. “I know... I just think that it's not the right time; he'll come when the time is right.”

And that's where your grumpy neighbor showed up. He's tall; he looked old and surprisingly handsome for someone his age. He knocked on your door one night. You were reading a book called ‘Inferno' by Dante Alighieri. You're so intrigued by what you're reading that you didn't even hear that someone was knocking at your door. You hurriedly put down your book and ran towards the door. You swung the door open, seeing a middle-aged man who's wearing a black button-up shirt and black chino pants. He pushed up his glasses. 

“Are you deaf or something? I've been knocking since forever.” He annoyingly said, “Good evening to you too.” You said giving him your best fake smile, “I think we switched packages, These aren't mine.” He said, bringing up the two packages in his hand, “Oh…I didn't know–” he cuts you off before even finishing your sentence “of course you don't.” He whispered under his breath, “I'll…I'll go get yours I'll be back in a sec.” You said as you took your package in his hand as you slammed your door shut right at his face.

You sigh as you close the door, feeling embarrassed by your actions. ‘He deserves it,’ you thought. You went to your room and grabbed the unopened package; you checked the name, making sure it's not really yours.

“Hwang In-Ho…” you read the name on the parcel, liking how his name sounds. 

You went downstairs and opened the door, seeing the man leaning against your porch railing. “Thank God, what took you so long?” he groans. He leans forward as he slowly walks towards you; he looks down on you and rudely takes the package from your grasp. You're stunned at his action but manage to say something: “I'm sorry, Mr. Hwang, it won't happen again. Have a good evening.” You said, giving him a shy smile; his eyes softened upon hearing his name. “Right, good evening to you too,” he said as he turned around and walked towards his home.

You noticed his reaction when you said his name; was he expecting you to say it?

Did you catch him off guard? You just chuckled to yourself and closed the door behind you as you walked to your bedroom to continue reading your book.

Meanwhile, In-Ho sat on his couch, staring at the package that he set down on his coffee table, ‘Hwang In-Ho,’ he read in his mind. He scoffed; of course you would know his name; it's written on the damn parcel. He groans as he palms his face, “Fuck,” he grumbles. He quickly gets his mind off of you, on how good your voice sounds saying his name, the way you would give him a shy and innocent glance even though he's being rude to you. He finds it cute. But at the same time, he feels bad—but deep down he doesn't care; you're just another annoying neighbor that would give him nothing but pure hatred. 

The next day

You woke up holding a book in your hand. Great, you fell asleep again. You sigh as you sit up, lightly scratching your eyes as you yawn, making you stretch your arms in the air, groaning in response. You went to the bathroom and took a warm shower, getting ready for today.

In-Ho groans in his sleep, and as his alarm clock goes on, making him reach for his phone to turn it off, he sits up, grabbing his glasses as he goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He went to the kitchen to make his morning coffee, a classic Americano. The aroma of the coffee beans filled the air; it made him feel alive. He sighed as he poured his fresh brewed coffee into his mug. 

You went out from the shower, drying yourself off before putting on comfortable shorts and a t-shirt. You went to the kitchen to make your morning coffee. You and In-Ho brew your coffees the same; you both like black coffee. Some may hate it because of the bitter taste, but the difference between you and In-Ho is that In-Ho doesn't put sweetener in his coffee; he just likes pure black coffee, while you… you drink your coffee with 2 tablespoons of sugar in it.

You went outside to sit on the bench on your porch while you drank your coffee as you held your book in your right hand. You like doing this every morning; it's calm and peaceful. Not until In-Ho walks by your house do you watch him walk by; it looks like he just woke up too. He's wearing a dark blue t-shirt and comfortable pants—a pair of loafers too. You can't help but notice how fit he is, how his biceps fit on the sleeve of his shirt, how broad his shoulder is. Before you could think of anything, you snapped yourself out of it as you noticed that he's holding a leash... of a cat? You smiled as you saw In-Ho’s black cat. The fur of his cat is gorgeous. It was unexpected to see In-Ho with a pet cat. After your interaction with him last night, you somewhat thought of him as a person who doesn't care about anyone except himself…and, well, his cat too. 

You didn't notice that you've been looking at In-Ho for a while, he looks at your direction as he adjusts his glasses, god he looks so good with those glasses…you blushed and felt a little embarrassed, you pretend to read and quickly drink your coffee, Meanwhile, In-Ho chuckled at your reaction—He somewhat finds himself admiring you, the way you had your hair into a messy bun, the way your t-shirt hugged all your curves, your soft skin…he wondered how would your skin feels like under his touch, he imagined you lightly shivering upon his touch, he snapped himself from thinking something else as his cat, Yu-jin, leading him to your porch, he tried to pull his cat away but Yu-jin decided to be stubborn and ran towards your porch making your eyes widen, you smiled at In-Ho’s reaction—he’s shocked and decided to let his cat Yu-Jin walks towards you, usually his cat doesn't really care about people, just like him. 

“Aren't you a cute little one—!” You crouched in front of In-Ho's cat, who seemed happy to see a new person besides his dad, In-Ho. The cat purred and circled around your legs. “That's odd,” In-Ho mumbled. “Odd? ” You looked up at In-Ho, who's looking at his cat still circling around your legs. “He never does that to other people,” he said coldly, not even bothering to look at you. “Oh—maybe he likes me! ” You said, ruffling the cat's fur as he lay on his back, making you rub its belly, “He's so precious—what’s his name? ” You again looked at In-Ho, who was looking at you but quickly glanced away and said, “Yu-jin.” “Yu-jin…” you tested the cat's name on your lips, “It's cute—Hi, Yu-Jin! ” You cupped the cat's face. “He's so adorable, In-Ho—” You looked at In-Ho, who gave you a look as he looked down on you, still crouching in front of him. ‘Fuck,’ he thought. “How did you know my name? ” He mumbled, so low it almost sounded like a whisper, “What?” “Forget it.” He said as he crouched down, picking up Yu-Jin in his arms, making his hands slightly brush yours. You took a glance at his hands; they're so beautiful. The veins in his hands looked attractive; it felt so smooth against yours… He also smells like coffee, your favorite coffee.

And just like that he left without even saying anything, leaving you crouching down on your porch. You sighed as you stood up, grabbing your book and your coffee before going inside the house.

In-Ho puts down Yu-Jin far enough from your house. “That's new…you've never been like that to anyone,” he said as if Yu-Jin could understand what he was saying. They went to a vet, to check up on Yu-Jin, In-Ho treats his cat like his own child, Going to a vet at least once a week, vet means new toy for Yu-Jin, And let's not forget the treats that Yu-Jin would get on the way home, But not that he doesn't want a kid or whatever, he just never really thought of falling in love, he thinks that being in love with someone takes so much time and energy, He also thinks that no one would put up with his attitude and stubbornness—he’s also a professor, a busy one, he doesn't even bother to flirt back with his colleagues at the University who's been hitting on him since he stepped foot in that university, perhaps Yu-Jin is the only one who he needs to go through with everyday. 

While waiting for Yu-Jin and his vet, he thought of you, “Damn it.” He whispered to himself. He remembered how your face looked when you were crouching down. In front of him while playing with Yu-Jin. How beautiful your smile is; he wonders how old you are, what you do for a living, but he also remembered having a book on the bench on your porch. He tried to remember what book it is, but the book cover looks familiar. He grabbed his phone and searched for something: Dante Alighieri’s book. He pressed the search button, and multiple books of the said author showed up, but he managed to find that book that you're reading earlier. ‘Inferno,’ he thought; he couldn't help but smile to himself. It's his favorite book; it's one of the reasons that he teaches as a literature professor. He's not expecting someone like you would be reading a book like this; it surprised him. He can't help but regret being rude to you; you're such a kind and gentle person. He thought of at least being nice with you—just enough for you and him to have a good relationship with each other as neighbors.

Author's Note: Omg I wasn't expecting to publish a fiction regardless of me panicking about my first semester school works—But please let me know what you think, I would really like to make this a big series. I love In-Ho/Byung Hun so much he's way too precious! Let me know if you want to be in my taglist. 🖤

[gilbertscurls]

campaign — matt sturniolo

summary: the face of prada and the youtuber-ambassador do a campaign together.

The blinding studio lights illuminated the sleek set, a testament to luxury and high fashion. The Prada campaign was buzzing with energy, cameras clicking, assistants rushing, and stylists adjusting the tiniest of details. It was just another day in your world, where you were the face of Prada, the embodiment of elegance and confidence. But today, there was a shift in the usual routine—a new addition to the campaign.

Matt Sturniolo.

You’d heard his name before, of course. Who hadn’t? The wildly popular YouTuber turned Prada ambassador had been making waves, blending his relatable charm with high fashion in a way that seemed effortless. His face had been plastered across billboards, his smile as familiar as an old friend’s to millions of fans. And now, he was standing just a few feet away, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his usually casual demeanor sharpened by the edges of Prada’s luxury.

You adjusted your stance, turning slightly as the photographer called out directions, but your gaze flickered to Matt. He was laughing with the crew, a sound that somehow cut through the controlled chaos. There was something disarming about him. He didn’t seem fazed by the glitz or the pressure, his easygoing nature making it clear he was just as comfortable here as he was in front of a vlog camera.

“Alright, let’s bring you two together for this next shot,” the director called, motioning for Matt to step onto the platform beside you. He approached with a confident stride, but his eyes held a spark of curiosity as they met yours.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm. “Matt.”

You extended a hand, offering a small smile. “I know. You’re everywhere these days. I’m—”

“I know who you are,” he interrupted, his grin widening. “Hard to miss the face of Prada.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his candor. “I guess we’re officially colleagues now.”

“Guess so,” he said, stepping into position beside you. “Try to go easy on me. This is more your world than mine.”

The photographer began snapping away, calling out instructions, but you couldn’t help stealing glances at Matt. Despite his self-deprecating remark, he was a natural. He moved with an effortless confidence, his boyish charm contrasting beautifully with the sharp lines of the suit he wore. When the photographer asked you to interact, it felt surprisingly easy. A shared laugh here, a subtle touch there—it was all organic, as though the two of you had known each other far longer than a few minutes.

“Not bad,” you murmured during a brief pause, tilting your head to look at him. “You might just have a future in this.”

He smirked, leaning slightly closer. “Coming from you, that’s high praise.”

The shoot continued, but the atmosphere shifted. What started as a professional collaboration turned into something more playful, more personal. Between shots, you exchanged quips and stories, his humor cutting through the usual stiffness of the fashion world. You found yourself drawn to the way he balanced confidence with humility, how he seemed genuinely interested in the world you navigated daily.

As the session wrapped up, the director praised the chemistry between you two, calling it “magnetic.” You couldn’t help but agree. Matt lingered as the crew began to pack up, his gaze catching yours one last time.

“So,” he said, tucking his hands into his pockets, “what’s next for the face of Prada?”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Probably another campaign. You?”

“Filming a car video,” he said, deadpan.

You laughed, the sound surprising even yourself. “Quite the contrast.”

“Hey, it keeps me grounded,” he said with a shrug. Then, after a beat, he added, “You know, this was fun. Maybe we’ll run into each other again on set.”

“Maybe,” you said, holding his gaze. “Or maybe we won’t have to wait for another campaign.”

The suggestion hung in the air, subtle but undeniable. His smile softened, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he nodded.

“I’d like that,” he said simply.

As he walked away, you couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted—not just in your day, but in your world. It wasn’t every day that you met someone who could stand out in the dazzling chaos of your life. But then again, Matt Sturniolo wasn’t like anyone else.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @straw8berry, @shadowthesim, @courta13, @frankdelreyy

[onceinablueberrymoon]

special report | salesman (recruiter) x reporter!reader

scenario: ever wonder how the VIPs watch the games before they arrive on the island? reporter!reader delivers the highlights of each game to viewers around the world. and a certain someone is their biggest fan.  setting: in seoul between the second game (dalgona) and the special game during season 1 warnings: reader can be any gender, but this was originally written with fem!reader in mind; reader also works for the games; they're both just not nice people lol (but we love them anyways!); no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 629 notes: someone in a reddit thread had a theory that the VIPs would watch highlight reels of the first few games and this story popped in my head. salesman is called recruiter here since that's his official title. i love this guy sm (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) please enjoy! borders by @strangergraphics-archive

“And that concludes our coverage for Day 2 of the Games. Please stay tuned for the Special Game, which will take place in two hours.”

You bowed to the camera, only straightening your back upon hearing the director yell “Cut!”. You shuffled the papers on the desk in front of you, then checked your phone. 

Three missed calls. 

You snorted, a small smile forming on your lips. You pressed on one of the missed calls, the number redialing on your screen. Bringing the phone to your ear, you waited for the recruiter to pick up. It didn’t even ring once before his smooth voice came through the speaker.

“Finally.”

You sighed, leaning forward to prop an elbow on the desk. “You know I’m at work. You of all people should know that.”

You could picture his cocky smirk.

“Care for a bite to eat? My treat,” he offered, which you accepted. There was still an hour and a half before you had to return to prepare for the Special Game.

You met at the tiny kimbap shop down the street. While you both could afford a fancier restaurant, a cheap, filling meal was all you needed right now.

“So,” you started, pouring hot barley tea into your teacups, “Did you catch any of the last game?” 

He nodded, resting his chin on his hands with his elbows on the table. “Very entertaining, as always. You never cease to impress me,” he praised.

Taking a big sip of tea, you scoffed, “Oh please. I’m the least interesting part of the show.”

“Oh?” He cocked his head. “Why is that?”

Shooting him an unimpressed look, you spoke, “Did you not see the same footage I did? The utter fear when they had to carve out the dalgona?” You laughed, “And when that guy got shot and slid down the slide… You just can’t make this stuff up!"

Pouring some more tea into your cup, you continued, "Seriously though, watching those players carve out the umbrella shapes was priceless. They were so scared!” With a shake of your head, you sighed, “I can’t believe some of them actually passed.” 

The recruiter chuckled, leaning closer to you. “While that was amusing, I found your performance to be far more enticing.”  

A blush crossed your cheeks, but you quickly shook it off, clearing your throat.

“I try my best. By the way,” you motioned towards him, “You’ve outdone yourself with the players this time. A perfect mix of competent and woefully tragic players. I’m not sure which I like more.” You shot him a smile, which he returned.

“Oh, and the group with the Host? Hilarious,” you grinned. “I can’t believe that 218 and 456 were childhood friends.” You tapped your fingers against your teacup. “But I guess, at the end of the day, trash is still trash.”

The lady running the shop arrived with your food, and the two of you ate in comfortable silence. However, you couldn’t help but notice the recruiter’s intense gaze lingering on you.

Once the recruiter paid, the two of you left the restaurant, and he walked you back to the office. 

“Same time tomorrow?” He asked, briefcase in hand.

You hummed, “Tomorrow is Tug of War, and there’s still lots to prepare before the final games.” You took a step towards him, a teasing smile on your face, “Why, miss me already?”

He huffed, “I can watch you any time.” Bringing his lips to your ear, he whispered, “But I prefer being near you instead.”

You tilted his head to look at you and kissed him on the cheek. Turning to enter your office, you looked back and called to him.

“Until next time, my dear recruiter!”

He flashed his signature smirk.

“Take care, my lovely reporter.”

[goldweaverr]

Hi! I just saw your first post about our beloved Kremnos prince, Mydei, and I absolutely love it! ❤️ You captured his character so beautifully, especially his views on love and romance. I adore how meticulous and accurate you were in portraying him—I completely see him that way too! Our prince carries the heavy burden of his family's royal lineage and the countless people who rely on him in the name of Kremnos. This perfectly explains his inexperience with love and romance—he simply has no time or hasn't been able to find someone to share such a connection with. I absolutely love how you portrayed his behavior when he finally discovers someone he can truly open his soul to! It’s so beautifully done! ❤️ I wonder—have you ever thought about Mydei letting his lover take the lead in bed? Whether it’s because of his inexperience or his eagerness to explore, the idea is so captivating. I love imagining Mydei finally letting go, allowing himself to be passionately ravished as he releases all the pent-up stress and burdens he’s carried for so long. It feels so fitting for his character—a vulnerable yet liberating moment where he can truly surrender and experience love in its rawest form. ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

OH MY !! I wasn't expecting such a lovely response at all, I'm so flustered, thank you so so much !!! I'm glad we share an opinion and I'm so glad you like how I portrayed him !!! I was hoping people would see The Vision™ so I'm beyond happy to know that not only has it reached, but others see it too ~! I'm very overwhelmed with the positive responses, and I'm more than happy to be sharing a space with so many fellow Mydei fans!! I finished the quest today and haven't been okay about him since, I hope he doesn't get sidelined too much as the story progresses and more characters get introduced because I sincerely love him so, so much <3

Again, thank you for your kind words!! They mean so much to me!!

And as for that lovely idea... muehehe let's get to it then ! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ I hope I can do it justice !

— NSFW! MDNI! No spoilers!

Love. In it's rawest form.

He knew he could let you take control. All your midnight rendezvous so far had him taking the lead. It just simply felt natural to be the one to drop you on your back — hand behind your head to soften your impact against the already soft mattress — and pleasure you until you can't take any more. Until all you can do is scream his name endlessly. Until you forget there were Titans out there to worship instead of him. That was his role towards you, it felt only natural. He didn't mind it one bit, he was more than happy with it. Steadied above you by the strength of his arms, staring at the gorgeous sight of you unraveling underneath him, your expressions, the eye contact, your nails on his back. It was divine.

Sometimes, you two would spice it up a bit by making slight changes. Trying a few new positions. You were both still so new to this, taking it really slow to remain comfortable. Yet so eager to explore more of each other, of love, and sex, intimacy. Although he understands there's no shame in having discussions about these things beforehand, it still felt easier for him to learn through action. If something bothered either of you, neither would hesitate to express it, and everything halts. He's not an animal. He understands boundaries, limits, preferences, comfort.. he doesn't shy away from expressing his own, and wants you to always be equally as comfortable. Love is not meant to be uncomfortable.

For example, one thing Mydei found he doesn't like is when you're on all fours and he's taking you from behind.

The position felt... Uncomfortable to him in a strange way. He found it felt a bit degrading to you, and it prevented him from seeing your face and expressions. Which upset him when he came to realize that not staring at your beautiful face while he's making love to you takes away so much of the intimacy that brings him comfort during these activities. He loves watching your reactions. He even likes talking to you through it. Lacking that made him feel vulnerable in a way. So after you were done, he told you how he felt, and that was the last time the position was used. Simple as that.

You had both been thinking about bringing it up, but wondering how to approach it.

He might not look like it, but when it came to this newfound love, he was so no less eager to discover everything that came with it. He wanted to know everything about you and show you everything about him. He wanted to know how to kiss you in the right ways, how to hold you with a grip that's balanced between protective and loving, how to be there for you in a way that doesn't suffocate you, where on your body to put his lips so that he drives you insane, what pace of thrusts makes you see stars in the glory of Kephale's morning...

And through it, he discovers himself. He's learning along with you. He doesn't know much about these parts of who he is, he's endlessly grateful you've given him this opportunity to learn and get to know himself more. And his recent thought is that it might be nice if sometime, you were to get on top of him and ravish him the way he usually does to you.

But, that can't be right? He can't ask you to do that, can he? Is he allowed to want this? Shouldn't it be his job to pleasure you and take care of you? It might be shameful if he wanted to just sit back and let you do all the work...

You, on the other hand, were thinking about it endlessly. Wanting to watch him relax, watch him unwind. Wanting to be the one giving him pleasure for once, he deserves it. He takes so much care of you, always putting you above himself, in every aspect. Even outside of your relationship, he's always putting others first. Prioritizing Phainon's safety over his own, even the two outsiders above himself. Putting the city of Okhema and it's citizens safety first, putting the wants of his people above his own... He's never given enough credit for how much of himself he sacrifices everyday for others, because they view him as too distant, too rough, too cold... His actions speak louder than his words, and his actions are constantly putting himself in harm's way if it meant someone else would be safe.

So, for once, he deserves to turn his mind off. Turn off his senses and his desire to please. To just enjoy being taken care of, being loved, being thanked for everything.

So when midnight came around (or the hour people got used to being midnight, not like the endless sunlight indicated much for them) and you two found yourself tangled up in the usual dance that happens so often, you decided it's now or never. As Mydei began to slowly guide you towards the mattress, lips never once leaving yours, you turned your position around an dropped him down instead. The sudden movement broke the kiss and left him with an expression of shock on his face, staring at you questioning what just happened. You smile at him and gently push him up a bit more, letting him get entirely comfortable on the bed. He follows your lead slowly, unsure where this is going, but curious to see what you're up to. Your expression remained calm, a smile that looks almost like a smirk, mischief and adoration in your eyes as you stared into his fiery gold ones. "let me take care of you" you broke the silence by saying. His mouth opened slightly, as if to answer, before it closed again after not finding the right words. His eyebrows furrow in confusion as he doesn't break eye contact, "take care of me?" He asks, tone full of uncertainty. You nod, "you're always taking the lead. In battle, in bed.. why don't you just let me thank you this time, hm?" Your voice came out soft and gentle as you began to straddle him, hands pushing him down slightly so he can be fully relaxed into the comfortable bed and he follows your every silent order as you get yourself comfortable on top of him. His lap, your throne.

This is what he's been thinking of. He should be happy. But he finds himself feeling a bit guilty, like he doesn't deserve it, like this isn't fair to you, and that prevents him from relaxing entirely. The worry on his expression was clear to you, you understood each other through the tiniest of microexpressions, and you could tell what he was thinking. "You're worth everything" is all what you say in response to soothe your worries, deciding to follow in his example and let your actions speak louder than your words.

You pressed your lips in kiss gently, moving against his in a soft rhythm that felt too innocent considering the moment blooming between the two of you. His hand came up to grip the back of your head carefully, letting you do what you want and following along as best he can. Your hand on the other end got to working off the armor on his body, shedding away the last piece of protection that separates his bare body from you, thinking to yourself how grateful you are that he trusts you to this extent, to allow himself to be this vulnerable and unprotected in your presence. His hands shift as they help you take off his clothing, the sound of metal hitting the ground resonating as more and more pieces are thrown off to the floor carelessly until he was naked. Although it was all about him tonight, you still pulled away to strip yourself as well, not wanting him to feel an imbalance in the dynamic between the two of you. As soon as you were naked, he leaned in to kiss you again but you dodged his lips with a playfully chuckle, he lets out a sulking scoff in response.

You begin to kiss his jaw, running your tongue over the spot you knew he liked, before you slowly went down to his neck. Your arms wrapped around his waist to drag your chest flush against his, wanting to feel him as close as you can as your lips continued to explore his neck, as perfectly sculpted as everything else about him is.

Marks left shamelessly decorating his neck, paying no mind to how easily they can be seen through the little clothing he wears. Your hands and mouth worked in tandem to assure his pleasure, one hand busying itself rubbing his length up and down slowly, another playing with his chest, as your mouth kept leaving kisses and bites and hickeys all over his neck and collarbones, tongue tracing over the red marks adorning his torso. His breathing heavy, his chest heaving up and down quickly, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise them, shameless moans and grunts and groans coming from above you. Sneaking a peek over to look at him, his eyebrows are pressed together tightly in pleasure as his eyes are closed shut, head leaning back, sweat dripping down his forehead.. a divine sight. One that motivated you to work even harder to pleasure him. Your mouth left his neck and went down to take a nipple in your mouth, earning you a harsh jolt of his entire body that made you yelp. "Sorry.." he apologizes sheepishly, face red as his hands try to distract you by roaming all over your body. You suppress a chuckle and plant a quick smooch on his lips to tease him, and he lets out a quiet groan as he rolls his eyes at you. You get back to what you were doing, sucking his nipple the way he does to yours, hand playing with the other way, all while your other hand never left his length, giving him just enough friction to stay excited, never enough to cum.

Eventually you let go of his chest and pull back for a minute to admire your work so far, admire how he already looks spent despite you barely being halfway through your mission. He'll complain and scold you for all the marks left across his torso tomorrow morning, but you'll deal with that problem later, currently you feel proud of yourself. Your gaze moves over to the vein on his bicep and your nail drags against it softly, idly, as you consider your next move. He stares at you wordlessly, anticipating what's next. He might not be admitting it through words, but he is entirely enjoying this. He doesn't understand why he'd hear some men complain about feeling their pride sting if they ever let their partners take the lead, if anything, Mydei has never felt more like a king than he does in this moment, all the attention on him as he's practically being worshipped. He feels so powerful, but most importantly, so loved.

You make eye contact with him again, a gentle expression as the friction between your gazes could practically be seen as sparks of electricity. "I love you" he says, breaking the silence but igniting that flickering flame that needed a fuse. You smile, not responding, but instead immediately pushing yourself down to the ground to kneel in front of him, preferring to answer him with more service. He props himself up on his elbows to keep watching you intently, as you wrap your arm around his length again, and bring your lips to it. He's used to gripping your hair when you go down on him, guiding you to the pace he prefers, but this time when he grips he makes no other moves, trusting to let you take the lead entirely how you want to. You won't deny him his pleasure after all, it's you.

At times he has the most random thoughts. Like if the walls are actually thinner than he thinks. Like if anyone on the other end can hear the mighty crown prince moaning out his partner's name. Like if Aglaea's golden threads can even pick stuff like this up, oh no ....

But a jolt of pleasure brings his thoughts back to reality as he redirects his attention back to you.

He isn't ashamed of what he has with you. He's afraid of where it might take him. Of how much he's willing to do for you. He knows every minute spent with you indulging in romance and desires is playing with fire while he's made of gasoline. And he'll burn down to ashes in his most graceless moments when he's bare under your gaze that burns gold into his skin, liquifying his flames into a puddle of adoration for you.

While maintaining eye contact with you, a silent exchange of vulnerability, it spoke an endless capacity. An unspoken sentence of 'Y𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦' ringing loudly in your ears. '𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴'.

You brought out the best out of each other, but simultaneously the ugliest human parts as well. Brought out the honesty he's hid from others and himself, brought out the desires he's kept ignored without caring about the hole they were digging in his soul. Gnawing away at his very being and turning him hollow. Brought out the love he was afraid to ever confront. But he's here now, confronting it and ruling over it's court. And tonight is the summit of Mydei's seemingly pathetic life. The two of you are wrapped up in a galaxy of your sins; summed down to nothing but a constellation of the most raw human desires. Who were the titans to demand worship when they knew nothing of what true religion was. This was a ritual. An exchange of souls. It meant more to Mydei than anything else has. This was raw, this was love. He could live in a reel of this night replaying endlessly forever.

The rest of this cursed world could matter later, to hell with every prophecy that demands his presence, nothing felt more worth experiencing in this moment than your mouth on him and your heat surrounding him and your praises spilling against him and your touch killing him and bringing him to life a thousand times over in this bed.

This was love in it's rawest form, and they can call Phainon the chosen one all they want, but Mydei feels like he's received the greatest blessings this universe has to offer him when he made eye contact with you the first time, and if the black tide was to eventually swallow even the last standing holy city, then to hell with all of it if you'd still be by his side.

[the-witty-pen-name]

When he realizes he's in love with you...

(Stranger Things Edition)

A/N: thank you @punkrockmlchael for bouncing ideas back and forth with me for this one! you are the best <3 please follow roz if you don't already she's the best

Warnings: substance use (smoking weed); fluff

Characters: Steve, Eddie, Gareth, Jonathan, Argyle & Billy

Steve: It's a really simple moment. You're with everyone just gathered at Steve's house for a movie night. Steve is sharing the couch with you, and he'd been doing a good job of ignoring that fact until your head rests on his shoulder with a gentle thud. You fell asleep and you curl up by his side. He's terrified to move, not wanting to disturb and risk ending this moment. He tries to remain completely still, except when he lifts his arm to wrap around your shoulder- of course you sleep through it. Having you so close to him, knowing you feel safe and comfortable enough around him to fall asleep- he's a goner.

Eddie: You match his energy, and you aren't afraid to argue with him. Heated debates about literally anything- usually something pointless. You don't stand down either, no matter how ridiculous it gets. He even just likes to get you riled up so he can get a reaction out of you- he loved seeing you so fired up. One night, the movie you both watching is paused because Eddie made a bogus claim the actor was in another movie- he wasn't. You're arguing, talking with your hands frantically to prove your point and you don't even catch on that he's stopped caring and he's just watching you with a smirk on his lips. He just loved you so much.

Gareth: You'd been dating for a couple of months. After dinner together, you end up walking into the record store. You're in the next row across from him- just mindlessly looking through the selection. He watches your eyes light up when you find a record you already own, but love- just happy to stumble across it out and about. It makes his heart skip, and he realizes that he wants you to share things you love with him all the time- for the rest of his life.

Jonathan: When you aren't paying attention, Jonathan loves to take candid photos of you. There's a time you're both at Lover's Lake and you're skipping rocks. Looking at you through his camera, it kind of just hits him all at once. You look over and smile for the photo and it's his favorite photo he's ever taken. After that, you can tell something changed between the two of you. He finally confesses his feelings after months of pining and you start dating immediately afterwards.

Argyle: You're sitting with him in the back of the delivery van after your shift. There's already a large cloud of smoke that has engulfed the two of you. Through the haze that has pleasantly taken over his brain, he watches you- your skillful hands rolling another joint for the two of you to share. His mouth hangs open slightly watching as you bring it to your lips, your mouth opening just enough to poke your tongue out so you can seal it. It's probably the hottest thing he's ever seen and he immediately just falls for you in that moment.

Billy: You're laying on your stomach on his unmade bed. You're flipping through one of your notebooks, trying to study. He's laying on his side, kissing your shoulder and rubbing your back- wanting your attention and pouting he needs to compete with your homework. He observes you read behind those beautiful lashes of his, and he loves the way you face looks when you're concentrating and focused. Despite that, he still wants to toss the book on the floor and kiss you stupid, but he'll wait because he knows it's important to you to do well on this test. His resolve doesn't last long, but he does try to be good- because he loves you.

TAGLIST: @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt @moonlightsolo @kyga01 @sheisjoeschateau @melaninjhs @v3lv3tf0x @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @sunshine-mrk @danymunsonharrington @mrsjellymunson @fanficfantik @the-unforgivenn @punkrockmlchael @supersecretsamm

[gothcsz]

final part of the neighbors series. well, everyone... we made it to the devastating end of our beloved neighbors! did i think we'd get here so fast? absolutely not, but alas we must face the truth that these two were doomed from the beginning 💔 thank you to everyone who has stuck around for this little series, i so appreciate it more than you know! please let ya girl know what you think hehe happy reading 🖤 thank you to @persephone-girl, @myownwholewildworld and @ovaryacted for helping me along the way 🥹

javier peña x f!reader. ~16k word count. the angst we've become familiar with, some new years vibes, canon typical violence (please proceed with caution), speaking of canon the timeline is way out of wack but we don't care okay (?), spanish heavy dialogue at times because i love writing in spanish (translations included), character death (bye bye mateo), reader has a mild case of agoraphobia, smut (hopefully it makes up for the heartbreak), unprotected p in v sex (this is fiction be smart irl), oral (f receiving), creampie kink!!!, hurt/no comfort?, guess what: javi is a piece of shit, no happy ending!!!, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay thanks.

The days bleed into one another in a haze of pain, anxiety, and Javier’s unwavering presence.

His apartment has become your sanctuary as your body mends—slowly, achingly—but the weight of the world outside these walls makes every step toward recovery feel like a climb up a mountain.

He hovers without smothering, a balance that only someone as attuned as him could manage. He cooks poorly, though his effort is enough to warm your heart. 

And when dinner inevitably becomes charred beyond recognition, he humors you with a begrudging sigh before ordering takeout from a local spot.

Connie checks in as often as she can. Her competence is a balm in itself, bringing company in the form of the orphaned baby girl they’ve taken in, and gentle scolding when you try to do too much too soon.

You’re definitely going stir-crazy on top of all the other shit you’re still processing.

His bedroom is practically yours now, the space filled with your things from a hurried list you’d made after he went to clear your apartment, ensuring it was safe and untapped. 

You could go back, but you don’t want to. Not yet. Not when every shadow feels like it’s going to swallow you whole, and not when the thought of leaving Javi’s protection makes your stomach tighten with anxiety.

Tonight is no different, the silence of his apartment familiar. Javier is sprawled on the couch in the living room, his gun within arm’s reach on the coffee table, the TV playing some late-night soccer game at a low volume.

You’re in his bed, wrapped in the blankets that carry the scent of him.

The nightmare rips you from your sleep and into a cold sweat. Your screams shatter the quiet, piercing through the walls like a siren. Javier is on his feet in seconds, gun in hand, his instincts sharp as ever, heart pounding as he rushes into the bedroom.

He bursts through the door, his eyes scanning for threats before they land on you. You’re sitting up, clutching your head in your hands, your body shaking with sobs.

Javi approaches slowly, cautious yet reassuring as he sets the weapon down on the nightstand. “It’s me, cariño. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

The sound of his voice breaks through your panic, and you look up at him with tear-streaked cheeks, your breathing ragged. Without thinking, you throw yourself into his embrace, your face burying into his chest as his strong arms wrap around you.

“I can’t… I can’t do this,” you sob into his shirt, your fingers clutching at the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart entirely.

Javier keeps you cradled in his lap, feeling helpless as he tries to console you, resting his chin on the top of your head, rubbing your back soothingly. He doesn’t know what to say, and he hopes you don’t take his wordless comfort the wrong way.

Your tears don’t stop, but the steady thumping of his heart and steadying breaths begin to calm the overpowering emotions that stab at you all over. “They k-keep finding me,” you whisper hoarsely. “In my dreams. Mateo, his men… They hurt you, Javi. They kill you, and I-I can’t stop them.”

His jaw tightens, the familiar strike of anger igniting deep in his chest. But he controls it, his focus entirely on you. “That’s not going to happen,” he says with quiet intensity. “I won’t let it. You’re safe here, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way. They’ll never touch you again.”

Even though the fear still lingers, you nod against him, your tears finally slowing. “I’m scared,” you admit in a hush, as if the city can hear you.

“I know,” his lips replace his chin with a soft kiss placed at the crown of your head. “You’ve got every right to be, but not for much longer. Te lo prometo.” (I promise you)

He holds you close, his mind racing. He knows the nightmares won’t stop until Mateo is dealt with, and the thought of you living in fear makes his blood boil.

Tomorrow, he decides, he’s going to make a move. Berna’s contact information has been burning a hole in his wallet, reminding him of the quickest way to get his justice.

Whatever it takes, whoever he has to call in, Mateo will pay for what he’s done.

He stays with you, his arms a fortress around your trembling body as you finally begin to drift back into an uneasy sleep.

When your breathing finally evens out and sleep welcomes you again, Javier doesn’t move right away. He keeps you in his embrace just a little longer, as if afraid that letting go might wake the nightmares again.

Eventually, he carefully shifts, lowering you back onto the bed. He tucks the blanket snugly around your shoulders, his movements unhurried. For a long moment, he doesn’t leave, his gaze fixed on your face.

Your lashes rest against your cheeks, still damp from tears, and your lips curve downward in a soft, unconscious pout. There’s a faint crease between your brows, as if even in slumber, you’re holding onto the pain. His heart aches at the sight.

Even like this, fragile and hurting, you’re still so beautiful.

He leans in without thinking, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead. His lips linger there for just a moment longer than they should, as if willing his affection to seep into your dreams and chase away the darkness.

With gentle fingers, he smooths the furrow from your brow, hesitating as he straightens. His eyes trail over you one last time before forcing himself to turn away and leave, returning to his spot on the uncomfortable couch.

Every step he takes toward the usual meeting spot feels heavy, hindering, like the universe is daring him to find another way; a constant reminder of the ethical line he is about to cross yet again.

He’s not about to let what happened to you fall into the cracks of this crumbling country.

Does this really make him any better than Mateo? Than the rest of the assholes he’s spent his career hunting? The question whisks around in Javier’s mind, relentless and accusatory, every time he looks in the mirror or stares down the barrel of another wasted day.

He tells himself the same justification every time: You’ve got to do bad things to catch bad people. You have to stoop to their level to get the job done. Get your hands dirty alongside them. 

But the words taste bitter, even as they leave his mouth. It’s not a mantra—it’s an excuse. One he clings to, because if he doesn’t, he’d have to face the man he’s become.

It’s a betrayal. Of the ideals he once believed in. Of you.

You wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t dare accuse him outright of something so low, but he can see the questions in the way your eyes search his when he comes home in the middle of the night, reeking of sweat and moral compromise. 

He’s doing this for you. It’s about justice, about making things right. But deep down, he knows it’s not just that.

It’s about vengeance.

He steps into the shop, the smell of authentic Colombian food and coffee hitting him all at once.

Berna is already seated, a bulky figure crammed into a chair that seems too small for him, like a predator disguised as a civilian.

His beady eyes flick up as Javier approaches, a greasy grin spreading across his face. “¿Nos volvemos a reunir tan pronto? ¿Me extrañas o qué, Peña?” (Meeting again so soon? Do you miss me or what?) he asks, lifting the tiny cup with fingers that seemed more suited to take lives than hold porcelain.

Javier slides into the seat across from him, the legs scraping against the tile floor. “¿Obtuviste la información que te pedí sobre el banquero?” (Did you get the information I asked for about the banker?) His voice is clipped, wasting no time on pleasantries.

He reaches into the inner pocket of his leather jacket, pulling out the photograph of Mateo to remind the other man why he’s here. The paper is crumpled from how many times he’s clenched it in his fist, a physical manifestation of his frustration.

He unfolds it carefully and places it on the table, sliding it between them.

Berna doesn’t even blink, his gaze dropping to the photo with all the urgency of a man just leisuring about. He stirs his coffee lazily, adding another spoonful of sugar. “¿Y yo que gano?” (What’s in it for me?)

Javier’s jaw ticks, the muscle feathering beneath his stubbled skin. He knows this game, has played it too many fucking times—it grates on him. “Lo de siempre,” (What it always is) he replies gruffly. “Esto no es diferente a nuestros otros acuerdos.” (This isn’t any different than our other agreements)

Berna leans back in his chair, his bulk shifting the chair with a creak. “Seguro?” (You sure about that?) he asks, patronizingly, as he taps the edge of the photo with a stubby finger. “Javiercito, ¿sigues dejando que las mujeres dirijan tu vida?” (Javiercito, still letting women run your life?) He tuts, “Pero no te culpo. Una buena perra debilita hasta al hombre más fuerte.” (I don’t blame you. A good bitch debilitates even the toughest man)

He curls his fists under the table, blunt nails digging into the skin of his palms, willing himself to stay seated. His patience is running thin, making his leg bounce rapidly. 

“No se trata de eso,” (That’s not what this is about) Javier grinds out through clamped teeth.

Berna barks out a laugh, leaning forward slightly. “Esto no funciona si nos decimos mentiras.” (This won’t work if we tell each other lies) His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper now, though his smug smile remains wide. “Lo estás buscando por la orden que envió.” (You’re after him for that call he sent out)

Javi’s irritation is momentarily replaced by intrigue. He straightens slightly. “¿Cual orden?” (What call?)

Berna’s grin grows wolfish, pure amusement bubbling into an obnoxious, rumbling laugh that fills the small space. “¿Ves? Lo sabía.” (See? I knew it) He wags a thick finger at Javier, like a teacher scolding a disobedient student. “Tu banquero hizo una llamada para deshacerse de su mujer. Una empleada de la embajada. Americana. Vos lo sabes mejor que nadie cómo se sienten estos tipos cuando matan a un Americano, especialmente a una tan insignificante… y muy bonita, por lo que he oído.” (Your banker made a call to get rid of his girl. An embassy employee. American. You know better than anyone how these guys feel about killing an American, especially one so insignificant… and very pretty, from what I hear)

Javier’s gut twists at the confirmation of something he practically already knew.

“Emputó a muchos con ese truco. Huyó como un cobarde. Supongo que por eso estás aquí. Por ella.” (He pissed a lot of people off with that trick. Ran away like a coward. I guess that’s why you’re here. Because of her)

Javier flicks his tongue across his teeth.“Eso no importa,” (That doesn’t matter) he retorts lowly. “Sólo necesito saber dónde está... el y esos hijos de puta que cumplieron la orden.” (I just need to know where he is... and those two motherfuckers who followed through with the order)

Berna hums as he strokes his chin like he’s considering it. “Cartagena,” he finally gives him a location, something to fucking work with, as simply as if he were giving directions to el mercado. “Ahí se esconde. Sin embargo, consiguió protección, pero no es nada que los gringos no puedan manejar.” (That’s where he’s hiding. Got himself some protection, but it’s nothing the Americans can’t handle) That last bit said mockingly to purposely annoy the agent.

“¿Y los otros?” (And the others?) Javier presses, not letting him ride his nerves so easily.

“Santos y Rico,” Berna supplies, shrugging nonchalantly. “Siguen en Bogotá. Frecuentan un club allí sobre los barrios. El Flamenco. Bebidas baratas, música de mierda... tu tipo de lugar, ¿eh?” (They’re still in Bogotá. They frequent a club near the barrios. The Flamingo. Cheap booze, shitty music—your kind of place)

He doesn’t rise to the bait again, simply nodding as he stands, swiping the photo of Mateo off the table and back into his pocket, switching it out for his trusty pack of cigarettes.

“Ten cuidado, Peña,” (Careful, Peña) Berna calls after him, his tone still mocking. “No dejes que te vuelva estúpido.” (Don’t let her make you stupid)

Javier doesn’t look back as he walks out into the crisp night, his mind already focused on the next steps. 

The capital for Santos and Rico. Cartagena for Mateo. But first, back to you.

He isn’t sure how he’d explain this to you… or if he even would. All he knows is that he has to see your face, remind himself why he’s doing this, using you as an excuse to help justify the violence that has tainted his soul.

Javier is gone. A lot. You try not to let it get to you, especially after he promised to not leave your side ever again. Though, you should have known better than to take that literally.

The rhythm of his comings and goings is erratic, like a broken metronome that keeps you off balance.

At first, it was just a couple of days here and there—late nights bleeding into early mornings, his tired eyes explaining everything and nothing all at once. Then the days stretched into weeks, his absence carving a yawning void in the already fragile sanctuary of his apartment.

Your ribs mend. The bruises fade, the cuts scab over, but none of it feels like progress. Healing should feel like a triumph, not this hollow ache of emptiness of what you’re left with.

You are in Javier’s apartment like a ghost confined in purgatory, aimless and haunted.

You’re supposed to be dead right now.

The thought comes at odd moments—while folding the laundry, when washing the coffee mug he used one morning before he was urgently called back to work, standing at the edge of his bed staring at the empty space where his body should be.

You can’t stop it. It circles you like a vulture, picking at what little resolve you have left.

Connie’s gone too. She had been your lifeline for a while, popping in and offering comfort when her own world was crumbling. But her absence was inevitable, torn between spontaneous parenthood and a marriage fraying at every seam because of the job.

Now it’s just you. Alone with your thoughts, the muffled chaos of the world outside seeping through the walls. It’s a torment you never imagined possible, let alone one you’d find yourself living through.

The country seems to be devouring itself. The news on the small TV mutters of violence that is neverending.

Sometimes, you’ll stand by the sliding glass door that leads to his balcony, fingers brushing the edge of the curtain. You tell yourself you’re just looking, but the nagging fear of being watched creeps up your spine.

The blinds never stay open for long, your courage retreating as quickly as it came. Javier has trusted agents dropping groceries and meals off for you at the doorstep, and even then you’re very cautious about opening the door to bring them inside. 

Loneliness, paranoia and insomnia have become your closest companions. The reflection in the mirror becomes a stranger with a melancholic expression and sleepless eyes.

You collapse onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if this is who you are now: a woman afraid to live.

The rare moments Javi manages to call leave you clinging to the landline, his rough voice over the static of the phone your only escape.

His words are rushed, heavy with exhaustion and tension. Sometimes it’s just an update—he’s okay, thinking of you. Other times, it’s the smallest sliver of intimacy:

“I miss you. I’ll be back soon.”

It’s selfish, you know, to want him here when you know the stakes of what he does for a living. The weight of what he deals with is an unwanted companion in his life.

But that doesn’t stop the longing, the ache to have him wrap his arms around you and make the world feel safe again.

The memory of his love confession that night in the bathroom is all that keeps you going. You cradle it like a fragile ember, feeding it with every shred of optimism you can muster. Which isn’t a lot as of late.

One day, you tell yourself. One day this will all be behind you. The darkness will lift, the scars on your heart will heal.

Until then, you have to endure. Love is a painful and ugly thing.

He gets all three of them in the end. It’s not clean, not quiet, but it’s done.

Berna’s information leads Javier straight to the first two—a pair of low-rent sicarios who’d been dumb enough to let their guard down in a hole-in-the-wall bar back in Bogotá.

The two were slouched over the counter, their laughter slurred and careless, oblivious to the shit storm about to hit.

He didn’t even have to lift a finger. The group moved swiftly, their boots loud against the grimy floor, and in seconds, the sicarios were on the ground, bloodied and begging.

Javier didn’t stay to watch them get dragged out into the alley, their pleas echoing in the narrow space before two distinct gunshots were heard.

He was already planning his next move: Cartagena. Mateo.

No time is wasted when he touches down in the coastal city, greeted by Berna and some of his men. 

Flanked by the grim crew, they make their way to the luxurious safe house perched in one of Cartagena’s wealthiest enclaves.

Criminals like Mateo always hide out in opulence after orchestrating such violence.

The assault begins the moment they breach the front gate. Chaos erupts. Gunfire cracks like thunder, tearing through the pristine silence of the night. 

Bullets shatter glass, ricocheting off marble columns and embedding themselves in the cream-colored walls. Screams echo as Mateo’s protective detail fights back hard, but they’re outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and out of luck. 

It’s ruthless yet efficient, and Javier moves through the pandemonium suavely, his focus singular, expression stern, as he searches for the asshole he is here for.

By the time he kicks in the door to Mateo’s hiding spot, the man is cornered. He’s standing by the balcony, sweat dripping down his face, his silk shirt clinging to his torso. A pistol is gripped tightly in his hand and pointed right at Javier.

“Suelta el arma,” (Drop the gun) Javier sneers, his lips curled, weapon steadily trained at the other’s chest. 

The temptation to end it all here—one clean shot—burns in his veins. He could do it, drive a bullet straight into the bastard’s heart and paint the wall behind him red.

But no. He won’t give him the ease of a quick death. Not after what he did to you.

Mateo scoffs as it dawns on him that he’s standing off against the DEA agent that’s been shadowing him since the moment he met you.

“Tú primero.” (You first)

“No estás en una posición para pedir ni mierda.” (You are not in a position to ask for shit)

Their eyes lock, and the room feels impossibly still despite the carnage wreaking outside.

Mateo’s hesitation is all the opening Javier needs. He lunges forward, disarming the man in one swift motion and landing a punch squarely across his face. The force sends Mateo sprawling, his pistol clattering uselessly to the floor.

It’s a struggle and Mateo fights back, dirty and desperate. They grapple, fists flying, grunts filling the air as they roll across the polished floor. Javier takes a few hits to his ribs and jaw, but his anger drives him forward. 

Every punch is laced with the memory of you—of what this fucker had done, of the fear in your eyes and the pain in your voice, how he broke you.

Finally, with a grunt of exertion, Javier manages to force Mateo onto his stomach, wrenching his arms behind his back. The cuffs click into place, metal biting into his skin.

“¿Crees que eres un héroe o qué?” (Do you think you’re some hero or what?) Mateo spits out, blood mixed in his saliva landing with a glop on the floor and Javier yanks him up. “¿Qué va a pensar tu preciado gobierno cuando les diga con quién lluegaste? Me estás arrestando sin ningún puto motivo factual.” (What is your precious government going to think when i tell them who you showed up here with. You’re arresting me with no real fucking cause)

Javier laughs, the sound bitter and hollow, devoid of humor. As he walks him towards the opulent front doors, he makes sure to twist Mateo’s wrists in the restraints until the jagged metal digs enough to make him bleed.

“¿Crees que esto es un arresto?” (You think this is an arrest) The rhetorical question is asked condescendingly, “No, Mateo, no voy a arrastrarte tras las rejas para que te pudras. Ese es un futuro demasiado misericordioso para malparidos como tú.” (I’m not going to drag you behind bars to rot. That’s too merciful of a future for bastards like you)

With a shove, he pushes Mateo forward. The armed men are waiting at the bottom of the marble steps, and they move quickly, forcing a black bag over his head. His muffled curses are cut short by a sharp blow to the gut.

They throw him into the waiting van like cargo, slamming the doors shut before the engine roars to life.

Javier exhales, his hands flexing at his sides as he watches the vehicle pull away into the darkness. He’s about to tail it, his mind already running through the long night ahead, but then his thoughts veer to you and the way you look at him like he’s more than the monster he feels he’s becoming.

Berna steps up beside him, his presence as calm and calculated as ever despite the massacre that has occurred. His hands are clasped neatly behind his back, but there’s a flicker of something—amusement, perhaps, or curiosity—dancing in his dark eyes.

“¿Y ahora qué?” (And now what?) he asks, his tone deceptively casual, like he doesn’t already know exactly what Javier’s next move is going to be.

Javi doesn’t even glance his way. “I’m going to kill that motherfucker.”

The basement reeks of damp concrete, sweat, and the metallic tang of blood. The single bulb overhead swings with a slow, almost hypnotic rhythm, casting broken shadows that dance across the cracked walls and the man tied to the chair.

Mateo’s head hangs low, chin resting against his chest, blood trailing from his broken nose, pooling on the stained floor beneath him. His chest rises and falls unevenly, each breath a wheeze as pain ripples through his bruised and battered figure.

Javier leans against the base of the stairs, his leather jacket discarded over a rusty chair nearby. His sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, revealing forearms taut with tension, veins bulging beneath his brown skin.

His knuckles are raw, split open from earlier blows, and they throb with a dull ache that he’s long since chosen to ignore. His dark eyes are devoid of their usual sly charm; instead, they smolder with a cold, relentless fury. 

Mateo coughs, spitting blood and phlegm onto the floor. “Todo esto... ¿por ella?” (All this… for her) His voice is weak, rasping, but the mockery in his tone is unmistakable. “I don’t believe it.”

Javier pushes off the wall, his boots echoing on the concrete as he takes measured steps toward the chair. He grabs a stool and pulls it up, straddling it directly in front of the other man. His face is inches away, close enough to make him flinch.

“You don’t get to talk about her,” Javier reaches out, gripping his jaw with one hand, forcing him to meet his gaze. Mateo winces as Javier’s thumb presses hard against a fresh bruise, the pain blooming anew. 

Still, he manages to huff out a wet and gurgling chuckle. “Realmente te tiene envuelto alrededor de su maldito dedo. Estás haciendo todo esto para qué, ¿vengarla? (She really had you wrapped tight around her fucking finger. You’re doing all this to what, avenge her?) Some gringa who barely gave it up. Podrías encontrar una puta mejor en la ciudad, eso sería más creíble que esto—” (You could find a better whore out in the city, that would be more believable than this)

The crack of Javier’s fist connecting with his cheekbone cuts him off mid-sentence. Mateo’s head snaps to the side, and more blood spatters the floor. Javier shakes out his hand, fidgeting his fingers.

“You tried to have her killed.” He spits, voice trembling with restrained rage. “And now you’re going to reap every second she’s had to live in fear because of you.”

Mateo lifts his head weakly, shooting daggers at the agent despite his beaten state. “And this rights the wrong? Makes you better than me? Us? Look at you. Torturing a man in the dark. Working with killers.” 

Javier steps closer, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and yanking him forward, their faces inches apart. “You’re goddamn right it doesn’t make me better,” he growls. “But I don’t give a fuck anymore. My moral compass? That broke the day I realized just how low you motherfuckers get. The day I realized the only way to protect people like her is to become just like you.”

He shoves him away with enough force to send the chair rocking precariously, the screech of its legs grating against the hard floor.

Javier’s hand closes around a nearby crowbar, it’s cold metal chilling against the heat radiating from his palm. He grips it tightly, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he stalks forward.

He presses the tip of the bar against Mateo’s knee, letting it rest there just long enough for the man’s wide eyes to meet his. The anticipation thickens the air like smoke, and then Javier swings.

The impact is sickening, the crack of bone like a firework detonating in the basement, followed by Mateo’s shrill and desperate scream.

It’s a sound that would make most men hesitate, flinch even, but Javier doesn’t stop.

He brings the crowbar down again and again, obliterating both knees and then moving downward, snapping tibias and fibulas like kindling. Mateo’s pleas are incoherent now, sobbing gasps and wet, broken cries of “Stop!” and “Please!” that Javier doesn’t hear—or perhaps chooses not to.

The cool iron gleams under the dim, swaying light. Blood trickles down it, some of it spatters across Javi’s shirt, his arms, but it doesn’t faze him.

It all becomes a distant hum, drowned out by the roaring in his ears. He doesn’t see the man in front of him anymore; he sees your pain, the fear etched into your face, the scars you’ll carry forever because of this piece of shit.

When Mateo’s legs are little more than pulp, Javier tosses the crowbar aside, the clang of metal on concrete echoing like a death knell.

He doesn’t stop, though. He doesn’t even hesitate. His fists take over, slamming into the other’s face brutally.

Mateo’s head lolls to the side, his breaths coming in ragged, wet gasps. Javier pulls back only when he’s sure the man is teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, his face swollen and unrecognizable.

Breathing heavily, Javi staggers back and pulls his pistol from its spot tucked at his lower back. The deafening click of the safety switching off snaps Mateo out of his stupor, his swollen eyes flying open in panic. 

He tries to speak, but his words dissolve into choked sobs. His ravaged legs twitch uselessly, bones jutting through torn skin, his face an unrecognizable mask of swelling and gore.

Javier steps closer, raising the gun. The barrel points squarely at Mateo’s chest, unwavering.

There isn’t anything left to say.

The first shot rings out, deafening in the enclosed space. Mateo jerks in the chair, blood spraying from the wound. Another shot follows, then another. Every pull of the trigger is cathartic, each bullet an exclamation point to the anger and anguish he’s carried for too long. 

It feels like ripping a piece of his soul away, but he doesn’t stop. Not until the clip is empty and Mateo’s body slumps forward, lifeless.

Silence falls, heavy and oppressive. Javier’s chest heaves as he lowers the weapon, tasting the burnt sulfurous in the air, his fingers trembling slightly. Blood pools around the chair, a deep crimson stark against the dull gray of the concrete.

He stares at the heap for a moment, his body and soul untethered. There’s no satisfaction in his expression, only exhaustion and a shadow of something darker—loathing, maybe.

He tucks the gun at his lower back again and turns away, his boots crunching over spent shell casings as he heads for the stairs, grabbing his jacket on the way out.

He doesn’t look back as he ascends out of the basement, men trailing in to clean the mess up. Javier doesn’t let himself linger on what he’s done. 

You’ve been pacing the apartment for hours, too restless to sit still, too wired to even think about sleeping.

“I’m coming back tonight.”

He sounded different when he called. Blank, almost, but you told yourself not to get hung up on it. You haven’t been feeling like yourself lately, either. 

The only thing that mattered was that he was coming back to you.

By the time the doorknob rattles at one in the morning, you’re wide awake, perched on the edge of the couch with your legs tucked beneath you. Your heart leaps into your throat as the door creaks open, and there he is.

Javier’s silhouette fills the frame, outlined by the dim light spilling in from the hallway. His broad shoulders are hunched, the leather duffle dangling limply in one hand. His jean jacket hangs off him like it’s too heavy, his hair mussed, his face unshaven.

The grim line of his mouth and the absent look in his eyes tug at the emotions you harbor for him.

You don’t even realize you’ve moved until your feet are carrying you to him, the silver of the moonlight pours in from the glass doors that lead to the balcony, illuminating the room. “Javi…” you whisper, the name leaving your lips before you can think. 

You throw yourself into his arms without hesitation, wrapping yourself around him like if you hold him tight enough, it will make all this despair go away.

His duffle hits the floor with a dull thud as his arms come around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

He doesn’t deserve this, he thinks, as you cling to him. Your affection, your tenderness. Still, that doesn’t stop him from being selfish and bathing in the warmth of your body pressed against his.

His embrace is crushing, pulling you so close you can barely breathe, but you don’t care. If he could press you into his skin, you’d let him. If you could crawl inside his chest and be near his heart, you would.

“I missed you,” you murmur against him, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his jacket. His grip tightens in response, but he doesn’t say a word. His silence makes your throat tighten.

You pull back just enough to look at him, cupping his face in your hands. His skin is rough beneath your fingers, the scruff on his jaw rasping against your palms. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see it all—the weariness, the anger, the shame, the pieces that make him who he is. 

He opens his mouth to respond, but whatever he’s about to say dies on his tongue when you lean in and kiss him.

It’s not gentle. It’s desperate, like you’re trying to pour every word you haven’t said into the press of your lips on his.

They’re softer than you’d imagined in your countless daydreams, but the way he moves them against yours carries an unmistakable authority. Even as you take the lead, it feels like he’s in control.

Javi’s hands rise, cradling the back of your head as he holds you steady. His mouth moves like he’s been waiting for this, needing this, as much as you have.

You are his sanctuary and his torment, the single thread keeping him whole in a world that threatens to disentangle him. 

It’s vaster than love, more potent than lust. It’s the way his heart pinches every time you look at him, as if no matter how far he falls into the darkness, you’ll always be there to pull him back.

Your fingers curl into the denim of his jacket, tugging him closer while you take small, shuffling steps backward. He tastes so forbidden and intoxicating. You’ll never get enough.

As you guide him further into the apartment, he follows without question, mouth never leaving yours, until you stumble slightly over the sunken step into the living room.

His hands move to your waist to steady you, the brief break in the kiss filled with a shaky exhale against your lips, your name leaving him so softly, you almost miss it.

“What are we doing?” His question is rough around the edges, like gravel under silk. He swallows hard, the muscles in his neck moving. His touch remains on your hips, as if he’s caught between holding you close and pushing you away.

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you surge forward, capturing his lips again as your hands fumble with his jacket. He hesitates, just for a split second, before shrugging it off and letting it fall to the floor.

You’re already tugging at the hem of his shirt as you guide him toward the couch with a determined push, his legs folding beneath him as he sits.

You climb onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips.

“Wait,” he says your name, this time a little more sternly. “We can’t—” His fingers flex against your curves, tone strained with the conflict that’s written all over his face.

“Javier, please.” Your plea wavers with emotion, your hands balling into the fabric of his shirt. “I just… I need to feel something else. Make me feel something else.”

His brown eyes meet yours, and the anguish he finds there strikes deep within him. It’s a look he knows all too well, one he’s carried in his own reflection more times than he can count.

It hurts him to see it mirrored back at him, to know that you’ve reached the same depths he’s had to endure.

He should say no. He should tell you that fucking him won’t fix anything, that it won’t make the hurt disappear. If anything, it might make it worse.

But as he takes in the sight of you—your pleading eyes, your trembling hands, the way your lips are still swollen from his kisses—he knows he can’t resist. Not when he’s wanted this, wanted you, for so long.

“Are you sure?” Your noses brush and the heat between you is almost unbearable.

“Please fuck me, Javi,” you whisper, the raw need in your voice obliterating the last shred of his trepidation.

His lips find yours with renewed fervor, hands roaming your body with reckless abandon, no longer hesitant.

Your own are just as eager, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as you rock your hips against his bulge. His sharp inhale tells you he feels it too—the spark, the friction. 

Clothes begin to fall away piece by piece, the space narrowing until there’s nothing but the press of your bodies and the sound of ragged breaths as you expose more to the other’s hungry gaze.

The moonlight filtering through the blinds casts Javier in a way that makes him look otherworldly. You’ve seen him shirtless more times than you can count, but tonight, under the spell of the lust simmering between you, his body appears almost unreal—every ridge of muscle, every faint scar, illuminated and tempting.

Your touch moves at its own accord, spreading over his firm chest, tracing the curve of his pectorals, feeling the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat. You move to cradle his face once more, his skin warm and taut under your palms as you guide him down to your neck.

Javier presses his lips to the delicate skin just below your ear, the scrape of his facial hair making you keen. His teeth nip at your pulse point, eliciting a gasp from you, and his tongue follows to soothe the sting.

His kisses blaze a trail lower, past the hollow of your throat and down to the swells of your tits, where he pauses, his breath fanning over your charged skin.

Your breath catches softly as his tongue flicks across the sensitive flesh, and then one of his hands slides up from your waist to cup the other. His thumb brushes over your nipple, teasing it until it peaks under his touch, and then his mouth is on you again—hot, wet, and maddeningly skillful.

He sucks the tender nub gently and you arch into him, whimpering from how good it feels.

“Javi…” you moan, your fingers burying themselves in his hair. His tongue circles your pebbled nipple, flicking it with just the right amount of pressure before he grazes it with his teeth, sending a shockwave of pleasure straight to your core, slickening your cunt with each lick.

He doesn’t neglect the other for long, moving over to give it the same attention, making you feel like you’re coming undone one nerve at a time.

His mouth feels delicious against your skin, and your skin tastes delicious on his tongue.

Even as his desire threatens to consume him, he’s cautious. He notices how you flinch slightly when his fingers press a bit too firmly into your soft skin and guilt prickles at the edges of his hunger; but it only makes him gentler, more intent on making you feel good without causing any more pain.

Javier kisses his way back up until his lips are at the corner of your mouth. Then, with a fluid motion, he shifts your position, guiding you onto your back. The worn cushions cradle you as he hovers over you, his broad frame shielding you from the world, one hand planted firmly beside your head as he kneels between your parted thighs. 

The sight of him above you, his polished amber eyes smoldering with want, makes your stomach flip.

Your hips tilt instinctively, seeking more, and the throbbing at your pussy grows insistent. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, the denim of his jeans rubbing tantalizingly against your inner thighs.

He doesn’t speak, but the tension in his jaw, the way his breath is ragged as his fingers find the waistband of your sleeping shorts, says everything.

You lift your hips to help him ease them off, the cool air brushing against your damp skin making you shiver. He undresses fully, and you watch in anticipation as he rids himself of his jeans.

The room is almost fully dark, shadows swallowing the details, but you feel the heat of his cock as it presses against your slick folds.

Your head falls back against the couch, a shaky moan escaping your lips. “Oh…” you whimper, thighs trembling as the blunt head of his length glides along your throbbing seam, gathering your arousal. 

The rough pads of his fingers slither down, brushing through the untamed curls at the apex of your thighs. Your upkeep has been the last thing on your mind, given the chaos of your life lately, but Javier doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t falter. If anything, the unfiltered, raw intimacy of it seems to spur him on.

He strokes your pussy gently, his touch reverent, as if every part of you is something to be savored.

The pearl of precum that leaks from the slit on his cock smears against your thigh as he brings his hand up, licking the tips of his fingers, tasting you. 

Your heady taste is an aphrodisiac that almost has him pouncing on you like a rabid dog.

There’s a glistening sheen of his spit on the pads of his digits as his hand descends again, sliding between your folds.

His touch is confident, and when he circles your clit with the calloused texture of his fingertips, the sensation hits you like a jolt of electricity, bending your back off the couch as his name tumbles from your lips.

“You ready?”

You nod eagerly, your hands reaching for him, pulling him closer. “I need you.”

He tries not to let those three simple words affect them as much as he knows they can. Instead, he adjusts, making sure you’re both comfortable, bringing you up onto his lap, steadying you by cradling your lower back in his large hand as you loop your arms around his shoulders.

Your thighs tighten at his waist as he aligns his dick at the mouth of your pussy, slowly sinking in, which has you shivering and him hissing out. 

You cling to his wide frame as he fills you completely. The world narrows down to nothing but the feel of his cock.

Having you in his arms feels like a paradox—so right and yet so wrong. It’s a storm of conflicting emotions that Javier barely has the bandwidth to process, but all those doubts dissolve with every inch of his length that slides into your wet, tight heat.

The feel of you gripping him so snugly makes his head tilt back slightly, lips parting with a soft groan.

The stretch is both foreign and delicious as your body adjusts to the thickness and size of him.

Your nails bite into the taut muscles of his shoulders, your breath catching in your throat before spilling out in a desperate, trembling moan as he buries himself into your body.

The subtle burn gives way to an irrepressible wave of pleasure when he begins to move, slow at first, testing your limits, before he finds a rhythm that has your head spinning.

“Javi,” you gasp, his name falling from your lips repeatedly as you hold onto him.

Your hips begin to move with his, grinding down in a desperate attempt to take him deeper, to feel every inch of him claiming you.

He groans as he leans forward, his forehead pressing against yours. The hand at your lower back moves up to sprawl at the middle, keeping you steady, as the other cups your ass and guides your movements to match his thrusts.

His head nudges yours, his silent request clear, and you pull back just enough for your mouths to collide in a messy, hungry embrace. His tongue slips past your lips, tangling with yours, the kiss as consuming as the rest of him.

Every powerful stroke of his hips wipes away the hollow ache that had rooted itself in your chest. In its place is a blissful sensation that threatens to engulf you.

You can feel the intensity of his passion in every thrust, every growled exhalation of your name, every flick of his tongue against yours.

Javier has a way of making the world disappear, of pulling you so completely into him that there’s no room for pain, for doubt, for anything but how good he’s fucking you. 

In his arms, with his body wrapped around yours and his cock filling you to the brim, you feel more than safe. You feel wanted. Protected. Cherished. Taken care of.

“Did you really mean it?” you whimper as your hips grind steadily against him, taking him entirely with every downward roll of your body.

Your fingers tangle in the soft curls at the nape of his neck, tugging slightly. The wet, obscene sound of your arousal meeting his cock fills the air, a symphony of lust underscoring your whispered question. “Do you actually love me?”

Javier groans, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as your walls flutter and squeeze around him. 

He doesn’t answer immediately, too lost in the sight of you—your furrowed brows, the sweat glistening on your skin, the way your lips part on every gasp and moan.

And you, despite being desperate for his assurance, can’t bring yourself to stop riding his dick.

I’ve killed for you, he thinks, but doesn’t dare say aloud. Instead, his rough voice finally breaks. “I do,” he rasps, his hands gripping your ass possessively, continuing to guide your pace as his strokes grow frantic. “So fuckin’ much. You’d never—shit— you’d never understand.” His mouth latches onto your collarbone, licking and biting with a feral need as if he could brand his love into your skin.

“Make me understand,” you demand in a breathy moan. Your pussy quivers as he adjusts his angle, his cock dragging against a spot inside you that evokes something new. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your head falling back, exposing the arch of your neck to his ravenous kisses.

The ecstasy isn’t just centered at your pussy anymore—it conquers your entire body, an all-encompassing euphoria.

Javier doesn’t waste time with more words. Where they fail him, his actions overcompensate.

In a blink, he shifts, pinning you beneath him on the couch. His hands slide under your thighs, hitching them high around his hips as he starts to thrust with unrelenting rhythm. The head of his cock feels like it’s brushing against your heart, making you cry out incoherently.

Each roll of his hips is a declaration, a confession. This is how much I love you. This is how much I need you.

“Oh my god,” you mewl when it starts feeling like too much. Your hands scramble for purchase, one landing on his cheek while the other claws at his back. Your eyes roll back, and sounds you didn’t even know you could make spill from your lips.

Javier’s face is tight with concentration, his brow pinched together, beads of sweat rolling down his temple. He leans in closer, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that’s as nasty and desperate as his love making.

You can taste the impending bliss on your tongue as your orgasm begins to crash over you. “I love you, Javier,” you moan, high pitched and sweetly.

Your declaration is his undoing. With a loud grunt, Javier pulls out swiftly, his fist wrapping around his cock as he pumps himself. His release comes in hot, thick spurts, painting your stomach as he shudders above you, hips jerking reflexively.

“God damn,” he mutters hoarsely as he collapses forward. His forehead rests against your chest, peppering kisses all over, as the two of you come down together, tangled and spent.

When he regains his composure, he moves off the couch, tugging his jeans on in a practiced, effortless motion before disappearing into the bathroom. You remain sprawled against the cushions, your body still humming from the pleasure he gave you.

A haze of contentment blankets you, leaving you feeling like a new woman. For the first time in weeks, the suffocating mass on your chest feels lighter—his touch, his presence, the way he fucked you—it all feels like a salve on your wounded spirit.

He returns swiftly, a damp, clean rag in hand. His movements are gentle as he crouches beside you, wiping away the sticky remnants of his release from your stomach.

The care in his actions is almost as endearing as the passion you just shared, and you find yourself watching him, entranced. The lines of exhaustion etched into his face don’t take away from how devastatingly handsome he looks in this moment.

It’s only when his hand brushes yours as he adjusts the rag that you notice the state of it—knuckles battered and scabbed over. You’d been too lost in the zeal of your coupling to notice, but now it has a pang of worry cutting through your post-coital haze.

“Javi, your hands—” you start, softly yet concerned. As you slowly sit up, a subtle twinge in your back reminds you just how thoroughly he’d fucked you into the couch. You grimace but press on, your brows knitting together as you reach for him.

Out of habit, he flexes his fingers, his lips tugging into something meant to be reassuring but doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he answers with a nonchalance that brushes off the concern in your voice.

Rising from his crouched position, he tosses the rag aside, going through the motions of lighting a cigarette. He sits beside you, pulling you close and wrapping the familiar, colorful quilt around both your bodies, blowing the smoke away from your face.

You don’t give up so easily. Curling into his lap, you nuzzle your nose against the crook of his neck, planting a featherlight kiss against the birthmark there. He smells like sex, tinged with the fading scent of his cologne.

Wordlessly, you reach for the arm around your shoulder, cradling his hand gently. You bring it to your lips, brushing them against his injured knuckles. Your eyes stay locked on his, the act full of care, as if you’re trying to kiss away the pain written in every crack and abrasion.

“It’s over,” He announces steadily, his words sinking like a stone dropped into water.

You blink at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He pauses, taking another drag then licking his lips with a flick of his tongue. His gaze is fixed on where your fingers are still curled around his hand. “Mateo.” The name makes your body tense instinctively at the mention of it, and he brushes his thumb over the back of your hand in a soothing gesture. “The intention was to bring him in alive, but… he got caught in the crossfire.”

It’s a lie built on necessity and self-preservation, but a lie nonetheless. His dark eyes search your face, gauging your reaction. 

Your lips part slightly as you process what he’s just said: Mateo. Dead.

You can finally be in control of your own life again… good riddance, right? You should feel relief, maybe even vindication.

And yet, the feeling is muted, tangled up in something you can’t quite place. 

Is it the lingering haze of sleeping with Javier clouding your judgement? Or is it the unsettling knowledge that this death, even while deserved, will find a way to sneak back into your mind when you least expect it? Will it resurface in the future, leaving you grappling with emotions you don’t want to feel for a man who tried to have you killed?

You look up at Javi. His eyes are a deep, earthy brown of aged mahogany—steadfast, enduring, yet weathered by time and trials. You search them, hoping the steady intensity might offer you some clarity.

Instead, all you find is an intangible burden. What would it take, you wonder, to dim that tragic glint that eclipses his beautiful eyes?

Still, you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Good.” You tighten your grip on his hand, your smaller fingers pressing against his rougher, calloused ones. “Thank you.”

Javier’s molars grind together at your quiet gratitude. It’s like chewing glass, and he has to toke on the cigarette to ease the feeling. 

Would you still feel this way if you knew the truth? If you knew that Mateo’s death wasn’t just a convenient win, but a calculated decision with the help of bad men just like him.

Would you still be thankful then?

Your fingers slip from his hand to his cheek, tilting his face toward you. The softness in your touch undoes the tension at his jaw. “You don’t have to carry this alone,” you say quietly, like you’ve somehow caught onto the turmoil simmering beneath his stoic exterior. “Not with me.”

He closes his eyes briefly, leaning into your touch despite himself. You have no idea just how much shit he’s already hauling, how much he’ll never let you see. “You’re safe now,” is all he can bring himself to say, and it feels like both assurance and a deflection. “That’s all that matters.”

Javier stands in the lone office, his mind weighed with the heaviness of recent conversations. Stechner’s words reverberate like a stinging slap.

“For everything you know, you’re extremely naïve.”

The condescension was thornier than he wanted to admit, piercing through his frustration more sharply than the looming fallout.

He’s been fired. Reassigned. Whatever bureaucratic label they slapped on it.

The scandal of his ties with the vigilante squad has finally blown up in his face. By morning, he’ll be on a flight back to Laredo with nothing but his duffel bag and a bruised sense of self.

He should have seen it coming. Hell, he did see it coming, but he still walked straight into it, didn’t he?

This is what happens when you gamble with drug traffickers and criminals, people whose loyalties shift like sand.

Trusting them had been an obvious mistake. But trusting the U.S. government to have his back? That was downright foolish. Those assholes were playing their own games under the guise of diplomacy.

Stechner was right—he is naïve, thinking he could wrest something just out of this mess on his own terms. Justice could never be carved out of deceit and bloodshed.

There’s no victory to claim. Just dirtied hands and sleepless nights.

Well… it wasn’t all for nothing. There’s you. The one silver fucking lining in this entire shitshow.

But even that was about to collapse under the weight of his failures. He’d have to tell you. But how the hell could he look into your eyes and explain everything he’d done? The compromises, the lies, the violence he had incurred. 

That he’s leaving?

Javier drags a hand down his face, the lines on his brow deepening with each thought.

Disgust. That’s what he expects to see when he tells you. Maybe judgment, too. 

He knows himself too well. The moment he looks into your eyes, he’ll falter, take the coward’s way out and give you only half-truths wrapped in feeble excuses.

The clock ticks on the wall behind him, each second louder than the last, a metronome counting down to his own undoing. If he doesn’t get out of here soon, he’ll drown in his own misery and ruin the night before it even begins.

You have been looking forward to the New Year’s Eve party. The embassy’s farewell to another tumultuous year, held at some ritzy bar downtown.

Javier would have skipped it without a second thought if it were up to him. But you’d been excited, your eyes lighting up at the prospect of something normal, craving it, so he agreed to be your date.

The timing couldn’t be worse. The night should be about new beginnings, but all Javier can feel is the heaviness of his impending departure. And he has no idea when—or how—he’s going to find the words to say goodbye.

His body moves on autopilot until he’s standing outside your door, his hand clenching and unclenching at his side before rapping his knuckles against the wood.

The door swings open, and there you are—radiant, with that smile that could light up even the darkest corners of his life. It’s so warm, so genuine, it hurts more than it soothes him.

“Hey,” you greet cheerfully, stepping aside to let him in. “That was a lot quicker than I expected. Is everything okay?”

For a moment Javi hesitates, an explanation stuck in his throat. He crosses the threshold, shutting the door behind him.

His eyes sweep over you almost involuntarily as you turn and head back toward the bathroom. The skirt of your dress sways with each step, modest in length but criminal in how it hugs your figure. His gaze locks onto the swing of your hips, hungry and selfish, his feet moving as if tethered to yours.

“Everything’s fine.” The words come out clipped, his tone consciously flat. He doesn’t want to invite more questions, doesn’t want you to see through the cracks forming in his wavering facade.

You don’t press him, too preoccupied with the mirror, inspecting your makeup. You swipe another dab of blush across your cheeks, leaning in closer to scrutinize your reflection. “Too much?”

He stands in the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly filling the frame as he leans against it, watching you with an enamored look he doesn’t bother hiding. “Looks perfectly fine to me,” he replies gruffly, though he means it.

Things between you two have settled into uncharted waters. That night on his couch had been electric, a collision of want and need that left you both reeling. But since then, you’ve held back, keeping the boundaries undefined.

It’s not that you don’t want him—every time he’s near, your body remembers the way he felt inside you, the way he made you feel whole again.

However, there’s something he’s holding back, and you can feel it in the way his gaze lingers on you for too long. You've decided not to push, not while you’re still piecing yourself back together, taking cautious steps on your own journey of healing. 

Still, the love between you is undeniable. You feel it in the way he holds you at night, his arms firm yet tender as you drift off to sleep. It’s there in the softer timbre he uses when you talk over the phone while he’s stationed in Medellín. 

Even though you’re been back in your apartment now, every night he’s in the capital, he’s either at your place or you’re at his.

You’ve returned to work, and while it’s helped you settle back into a sense of normalcy, it doesn’t feel the same. 

The small routines you’ve fallen into do bring you comfort, despite the bigger questions that loom in the background. 

You find yourself wondering if it’s time to leave the clerical work behind and seek something greater, something that aligns with the new version of yourself you’re trying to uncover.

Then there’s the question of where you’ll go from here—literally. Colombia has become more than a temporary home, and you’ve realized there’s little waiting for you where you’re from. Truthfully, you could go anywhere. But do you want to?

The answer is clear: the only person you want to be with is standing in your hallway.

“Thanks for coming out with me to this. I know it’s not exactly your kind of night.” You glance at him over your shoulder, adjusting the last details of your appearance in the mirror. “Want a drink?”

“It’s not,” he concurs, his voice carrying a teasing lilt, “but there’s no way I’m letting you go out there alone looking this beautiful.” His gaze sweeps over you once more as he follows you back out into the living room, his flattery leaving no room for misunderstanding.

The compliment lands as intended and you feel the apples of your cheeks tingling warmly. “You’re sweet,” you murmur as you pour both of your drinks at the bar cart. 

A comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the crackle of the record player in the corner, spinning a soft tune you both half recognize. For a moment, it feels easy. Natural.

When you turn back to him, you hold out his glass with a small, shy smile.

Should he tell you now? Get it over with and rip it off like a bandaid. But as you take a step closer, your voice breaches his spiraling thoughts.

“¿Estás seguro que todo está bien?” (Are you sure everything is alright?) You ask, your brows knitting with quiet concern.

His grip around the glass tightens slightly. He swallows the bitterness lodged in his throat, the words forming in his mind before dissolving into silence. Instead, he forces a half-smile, his tone turning light, almost flippant.

“De mí no te preocupes cariño,” (Don’t worry about me) he tells you softly. “Debemos celebrar el Año Nuevo sin ninguna mamada.” (We should celebrate the New Year without any bullshit)

You search his face, sensing the weight he’s trying to hide, but when his hand lifts to brush against your cheek, your resolve falters. The back of his knuckles are rough, calloused, but his touch is achingly gentle. You lean into him instinctively, your eyelashes fluttering as a sense of calm washes over you.

He’s right. Whatever weight he’s carrying, whatever darkness lingers behind his eyes, it can wait until tomorrow. Tonight is about enjoying the fleeting moments of joy.

“Okay.” When your eyes meet him again, there’s gentleness there, a silent agreement to leave the worries behind.

Javier tips his glass toward yours in a silent toast, a half smile pulling at his pouty lips. “Salud.”

“Salud,” you echo, clinking your glass against his.

From his spot at the bar, Javier’s eyes stay glued to you, the knot in his chest tightening with each laugh that escapes your glossed lips. You’re standing with a group of your coworkers, your head tilted back as you throw yourself into some joke he couldn’t hear.

The sound of a countdown filters through the bar, and the announcer’s voice booms that there are five minutes left until the new year.

As if on cue, you start making your way back to him, your expression alight with excitement.

“They’re setting off fireworks on the roof! We should get up there before it gets too crowded,” you suggest, the words spilling out with the eagerness of someone who’s had just enough to drink.

Javier nods, his lips twitching into a faint smile in one of those rare moments where his amusement is genuine and unguarded. He finishes the last sip of his drink, sliding off the barstool suavely. 

Before you can take more than a step, his arm loops around your waist, pulling you closer.

The haze of the drinks and his steady warmth make you feel like you’re walking on air as he guides you to the stairs leading to the rooftop.

When you step outside, the cool night air nips at your bare shoulders, making you shiver. You turn on your heel, already halfway to suggesting going back for your coat when Javier beats you to it.

“Just take mine,” he says, shrugging out of his leather jacket gallantly. He drapes it over your shoulders, the weight of it heavy but comforting, the potent scent of him wrapping around you like a second skin, making you giddy.

The sleeves fall far past your hands and you let out a contented laugh. “Gracias, Javi,” you angle yourself to press a kiss to his cheek.

With his hand in yours, you tug him toward the edge of the rooftop, where the city sprawls out below in a sea of twinkling lights.

“You know, despite all the violence and corruption, this country really is so beautiful.”

Javier doesn’t respond right away. His gaze shifts from the city to you, longingly. “Yeah,” he agrees in a raspy timbre, “it is.”

But his words aren’t meant for the city. They’re meant for you.

An eager, ill-timed firework crackles in the distance, a single streak of light exploding into a shower of gold and white over the skyline. 

“Look at that,” you whisper, the sound barely audible over the growing cheers and whistles of the crowd.

Javier doesn’t look at the fireworks. He can’t. His gaze is glued to you, the way the vibrant colors illuminate your features, casting you in a kaleidoscope of light. 

He’s memorizing everything about this moment: the tilt of your lips as you smile, the slight raise in your brow as you lose yourself in the spectacle, his jacket draped over your shoulders.

The countdown begins, voices around you picking up in excitement.

Ten… nine…

You glance up at him, your face glowing with the anticipation of a fresh start with the only person you want by your side. “Javi,” the way his name rolls off your tongue jabs at his crumbling walls.

Eight… seven…

He manages a fleeting smile, the corners of his mouth tugging upward despite the leaden weight of his turmoil on his back.

Six… five…

Your free hand comes up to rest lightly on his chest, your fingers brushing over the fabric of his shirt. “Thank you for being here.”

Four… three…

“Always,” he replies, even though it’s a lie.

Two… one…

You both lean in at the same time, as if pulled by some invisible thread. Your lips meet his in a kiss that feels as inevitable as the sunrise. It’s soft at first, tender and unhurried, but it shifts quickly, urgency fueling it.

The rooftop erupts in cheers as the first moments of the new year are ushered in with a thunderous cascade of fireworks. The sky is alive with bursts of red, white, gold.

For you, it feels like the perfect moment, the start of something good. You can’t imagine wanting anything else but this—him, here, now.

For Javier, it feels like a bittersweet end. Laced with his unspoken heartbreak, a desperate attempt to memorize the taste of your lips, the way your body fits so perfectly against his, before everything comes crashing down.

When you finally pull back, your cheeks are hot, your smile radiant as you look up at him. “Feliz Año Nuevo.”

He forces a smile, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Happy New Year, cariño.”

You surge forward again, the pull of him irresistible. Your hands cradle his jaw as your tongue teases against his bottom lip, a silent plea he answers without hesitation. His mouth parts, letting you in—hot and enthralling, making your toes curl in your heels.

His fingers slide lower, grabbing a possessive handful of your ass. A soft moan escapes you, muffled against his mouth, and your thighs instinctively press together, trying to quell the thrum of arousal beginning to pulse at your cunt.

“Take me home,” you whisper desperately as you break away, all shaky and breathless. Your eyes meet his dark and hooded ones, mirroring your own need.

For a second, Javier doesn’t move, caught in the crossfire of his own thoughts. But as he looks at you, sees the way, your pupils are blown wide with desire—any lingering hesitation crumbles.

“Let’s go.”

He leads you through the crowd, his broad shoulders parting the sea of people like he was made to shield you from the chaos.

Your pulse races, anticipation coiling tightly in your stomach as the fireworks continue to explode above, unnoticed by either of you.

You love how his weight settles over you, his hands traveling in hunger across every inch of your skin. The way you grind against him feels like second nature, your body responding to his every move with an unrelenting need. 

You hadn’t expected him to take his time like this, stretching out every moment of foreplay as if he’s trying to make it last forever.

It’s the third time tonight he’s taken you apart with his mouth, but this time, his fingers are joining in, plunging into your soaked heat while his tongue flicks over your clit in a rhythm that makes you see fireworks erupting against your vision.

Your legs tremble uncontrollably, your body twisting against the damp sheets as you struggle to stay present.

Javier’s tongue drags slow circles over your swollen nub before he sucks it into his mouth, the gentle pull sending sharp jolts down your spine. 

His fingers curl inside you, brushing against that devastating spot that has your back arching clean off the mattress.

“Javi!” you cry out, hips stuttering against his face as the wave of your climax crashes over you. His hooked nose presses against you as you fall apart.

He doesn’t stop. He’s utterly lost in you—your sweet headiness, the way your walls squeeze around his fingers. You have to yank hard on his hair to finally pull him away, your breath coming in shallow gasps as he looks up at you, mouth glistening with your release.

He licks his lips slowly, savoring every last bit. There’s a desperate intensity in his eyes, like his palate is memorizing the taste of you.

Javier kisses his way up your body, stopping to worship your breasts, his tongue and teeth teasing each peak until you’re squirming, your pussy continuously drooling for him.

When his lips finally crash against yours, it’s messy as he lets you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your hands roam over his broad back, tracing the curve of muscle and sinew, appreciating the feel of his skin against yours. You sigh softly, content to be pinned beneath him.

“Turn over. On your stomach.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the order, and though your body feels overwhelmed from his attention, you obey without hesitation. Your desire for him outweighs everything else.

Javier shifts back, giving you room to move. You reposition yourself, chest and stomach pressed flat against the mattress while your hips lift, aided by the pillow he slides beneath you.

The cool air kisses your exposed skin, and you hear him groan behind you—a deep sound that has your pussy clenching in anticipation.

“Tan hermosa,” he whispers hoarsely, his rough hands caressing your ass before delivering a playful smack that makes you gasp. The flesh jiggles under his touch, and he leans down to place a tender kiss on your shoulder, biting softly as he aligns himself behind you.

You feel the head of his cock drag through your folds, gathering the slick mess he’s drawn from you before pressing against your wet entrance. He pushes in slowly, the stretch making your mouth fall open in a silent cry.

“Javier,” you whimper, your fingers clutching the sheets as he fills you inch by inch.

The angle is devastating, reaching places you didn’t even know existed, and all you can do is hold on tight.

His strong thighs cage yours, while his broad frame looms over you, his toned arms braced on either side of your head. Each measured thrust sends his heavy balls slapping against your puffy, soaked clit.

“Puta madre, you’re so fuckin’ tight like this.” He lowers more of his weight onto you, pressing you further into the mattress, his thrusts growing more delirious.

The force of his movements pulls unrestrained moans from your lips, each one echoing with pure, unfiltered satisfaction.

Your trembling hands fumble over the sheets until they find his calloused palms pressing firmly into the sheets. 

Without hesitation, you intertwine your fingers with his, your softer touch setting off something feral inside him. He starts to pound into you, his hips snapping hard and fast as though the world outside this room doesn’t exist.

Your pussy clamps around on him in response, helplessly succumbing to his pace. Your hips instinctively try to push back against him but his weight over you, so dominant, keeps you in place, forcing you to take the entirety of his cock.

“I-I—” The words tumble out, but they’re incoherent, your mind too clouded with the way he breaks you open, your sex swallowing him in even deeper.

“Another one already? I should’ve taken care of you and this perfect pussy a long,” he thrusts hard, “time,” another sharp snap of his hips, “ago.”

“Ah!” you shriek, your nails digging into his hands where your fingers remain entwined, your vision crossing as he hits that spot inside you that flares your orgasm. “Just like that. Don’t stop, Javi.”

He doesn’t falter nor considers easing up, inducing another wave of stickiness from your cunt.

The obscene sounds of your bodies meeting—wet and raw—fill the room, punctuated by the shameless cries spilling from your throat. Your climax slams into you with breathtaking intensity, your pussy spasming and gripping him so tightly, it pulls a scratchy groan from his lips.

Javier finally stills, buried to the hilt, letting you ride out the aftershocks as your shaking body collapses beneath him. He peppers soft kisses across your damp shoulders and down your spine, his mustache bristling deliciously against your skin.

When his lips find the curve of your neck, he lingers, licking at the delicate flesh there as though he can’t get enough of you.

Four orgasms in, your body feels utterly spent, your thighs trembling as the weight of exhaustion begins to set in. You turn your head, your voice soft as you murmur, “Javi.”

He lifts his head, his eyes searching yours with concern. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum, a lazy smile curling at your lips. “Just… hold me.”

His chest rises and falls with a staggered breath, the weight of his departure lingers like a shadow over the moment, threatening to sour it. But he pushes it away.

He pulls out of you slowly, the wet slide drawing a hushed whimper from your lips. He rolls onto his side, gathering you into his arms and tucking you against his chest. His still-hard cock, satiny and heavy, presses against your stomach, impossible to ignore.

You glance up at him, fingers trailing down his sternum toward his length. “Do you want me to…?”

He catches your wrist gently, stopping you. “No. Not yet.”

You hum your understanding, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. His arms tighten around you, his lips brushing the top of your head as the two of you settle into a lull of lazy, unhurried affection.

Kisses are exchanged between whispered words, hands mapping the planes of the other’s body.

Everything about him is so damn addictive. 

The lust that simmers reignites, pulling you under its spell, and this time, you don’t wait for permission. Your palm wraps firmly around his cock, tugging him languidly.

Javier’s lashes flutter, his head falling back slightly, exposing the strong line of his throat. A low sound escapes him as his hips move instinctively to match your strokes. “Fuck,” he groans, strained, “Así mero.” (Just like that)

Your thumb brushes over the bead of precum glistening at his tip, smearing it down his length, making him shudder. His jaw tightens, a muscle in his cheek twitching.

The whisper of his name is laced with need as your lips trace his neck. “I need you again.”

He hooks one of your legs over his hip, the other tangled with his in a side-styled missionary, your bodies pressed so tightly together that you can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your breasts.

Your pussy lips part open, eager for him, and the anticipation buzzes through your body. You guide him where you need him and he lets his hips take over, the thick, spongy tip sinking into you until he’s fully seated.

A gasp escapes your lips as he starts to move, slow and purposeful.

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he keeps them hidden, burying his face against your throat, engulfing you in his arms entirely.

The thought of losing you cleaves at him, and a desperate idea flits through his mind—if he could just open up, let you see the broken pieces of himself, maybe you’d understand. Maybe you’d come with him to Laredo, let him show you, and himself, the quiet beauty of a life together on his family ranch.

The fantasy swells in his chest, making his thrusts grow more passionate. His teeth sink into the curve of your shoulder, almost enough to hurt.

You’re barely human anymore, lost in the voracious sensation of his cock stretching and filling you; just a mass of feverish energy.

Your fingers dig into his back, nails raking across his sweat-slicked skin as you cling to him, completely uncaring of the sticky warmth where your bodies connect or the thick scent of sex that permeates the air.

“Oh god, Javier,” you cry out, your voice breaking on a moan as you tilt your head back. “Keep doing that—oh my god—I love you.”

Your words are a jolt to his system, breaking down every defense he has left. He groans your name as his mouth trails up your throat, leaving a broad stripe of his tongue in its wake before nipping gently at your jaw.

“Say it again,” he breathes heavily as his hips grind deeper, the motion pulling an uncontrolled cry from you, your body jolting against his.

“I love you,” you babble as his movements turn rougher, more desperate.

He presses his forehead to yours, his gaze dark and wanton. “Kiss me,” he rasps.

You obey without hesitation, your lips finding his in a feverish clash of need and devotion.

Tongues tangle and teeth graze as if you’re trying to devour each other, your bodies writhing, desperate to become one.

“Where do you want it?” Javi grits out, hovering on the edge of his release. His chest heaves, feeling your nipples brushing his skin while his muscles turn taut as he tries to hold himself back for your answer.

You’re quivering from the aftermath of what feels like your fifth orgasm, maybe sixth—you’ve lost count.

Your mind is hazy, clouded with exhaustion and bliss, that his question barely registers. Your fingers clutch at his forearms, nails leaving crescent moons in his skin as you look up at him.

You manage a soft pout with trembling lips. “Inside,” You need it badly, your pussy instinctively clenching around his cock at the prospect of him filling you. Then, with more desperation, you plead. “Please, Javi.”

The way your lips purse, the edge of tears in your voice have his instincts taking over. A greedy, lustful desire too overpowering to resist.

He has to give you what you’re begging for.

“Fuck,” Javi groans, his head dropping against your shoulder, his voice muffled as curses and ragged breaths spill from his lips. He finishes inside of you in hot, shuddering waves.

The heat of his cum stuffing you has a blissful mewl escaping your lips. Your pussy insatiably holding onto every drop, milking him as though your body can’t bear to let him go.

He remains there, his cock twitching inside as the both of you ride out the ecstasy.

Javi makes no move to pull out, instead his arms wrap around you tightly, holding you close as his spend drips out around his cock and down to his balls.

Time feels like it bends and stretches, the minutes melting into hours as you lose yourselves in each other.

You fuck, you make out, you touch each other so tenderly that you’re certain you somehow managed to retrieve a slice of heaven right here in your bedroom.

The night gives way to the distant glow of dawn. The room is bathed in a soft, golden light as the sun peeks over the horizon.

You’re both exhausted, your bodies aching from the endless push and pull of pleasure, yet neither of you seems willing to stop.

Javier hovers above you, half lidded gaze locked with yours. Your legs are loosely wrapped around his middle while his hips move suavely. 

“Just one more,” he’s practically begging as those brown eyes of his bore into yours. He just needs one more. “You can do it, pretty girl. I know you can. Been doin’ so good all night.”

His lips finally find yours in an ardent kiss, swallowing your moans as your body tightens around him yet again. You’re lost in all he’s given you, your world spinning as your final orgasm tears through you.

He follows shortly after, his hand wrapped around your jaw as he holds you steady while he pumps you full of his cum.

Javi turns gentle as he plants sweet kisses on your forehead, your nose, your lips. He caresses your thighs then up your side as your breathing slows.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just relax.”

He continues to knead and fondle, murmuring soft praises until you’re completely at ease, melting into him.

You’re drifting toward sleep, limbs heavy and utterly spent, your body glowing in the soft light of early morning. The faint sheen of sweat glistens on your skin, catching rays as they filter through the curtains.

Javier leans against the headboard, eyes tracing the length of your body beneath the sheets. The serenity in your expression tugs at a longing so profound, it’s painful. When his gaze flicks to the alarm clock on the bedside table, the time glares at him in bold red numbers.

His flight boards in a little over three hours.

The lump in his throat swells, a heavy, choking pressure that makes it feel like it’s going to explode and rupture his neck. He prays you can’t feel the way his heart beats erratically or how his body seems to radiate a fever level temperature as the anxiety settles in. 

Fuck.

He moves slowly, not wanting to wake you. Carefully, he shifts your body, rolling you to your side. You’re so pliant, so exhausted that you murmur something unintelligible before nuzzling into the pillow. 

He hesitates, watching as your breathing deepens again.

His jeans are tugged on first, the soft rustle of fabric barely audible in the quiet room. He doesn’t bother buttoning his shirt, draping it over his shoulders as he moves around, collecting his belongings. 

Maybe this is the cleanest way, he thinks bitterly. To just leave. Slip out before the inevitable fallout. You’ll hate him either way—better to make a quick exit than to sit through the heartbreak, to explain the compromised morals that led him here.

But as he tugs his boot on, you stir. Your arm stretches across the empty space where he once was, craving his warmth. When you feel nothing, you open your eyes, squinting against the pale light.

“Javi?” You call out drowsily and a little confused.

For a moment, he considers staying silent, waiting to see if you’ll fall back into slumber. But then you sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the heel of your hand.

You don’t care about the mascara smudged beneath your lashes or the eyeliner smearing your waterline. All you care about is the sight of him standing there, half-dressed, looking like he’s about to bolt.

“Why are you getting dressed?”

Javier licks his teeth, buying time he doesn’t have. His fingers flexing as if searching for something to hold onto. You catch the pained set of his jaw.

“I’m leaving.”

You blink, slow and disbelieving, as if the action will somehow help you make sense of what he just said. “Leaving? Where are you going?”

“To the airport.”

“Airport?” You’re more awake now, moving to the edge of the bed and reaching under where your robe lies in a heap.

The soreness in your muscles makes you wince as you bend to grab it, slipping it on as you stand. Your legs are wobbly, the remnants of the all nighter making themselves known. “Why? Did you get called back to Medellín?”

Javier watches you silently, his teeth grinding when you walk to him, your expression expectant and confused.

“I’m going back to Texas,” he finally answers.

“Texas?” The frown on your face deepens. “Is your dad okay?”

For you to assume his departure is over his father’s wellbeing somehow makes this worse. His lips press into a thin line, eyes darting away. “He’s fine.”

“Then why are you—” You pause, exhaling sharply, exasperation bubbling at his curt replies. You hate when he gets like this. You figured you’d be past it now.“Why are you going back?”

He struggles to form but a few words at a time. “I got suspended,” he tells you. “Indefinitely. Flight’s out at nine.”

The room falls silent. That’s the last thing you expected to hear.

“How long have you known?”

“Found out this afternoon.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You glare at him. “You were just going to leave without saying anything?” That hurts.

“I didn’t want to ruin your night. I was trying to make it easier.” He stupidly answers.

“Easier?” Your voice rises slightly, incredulous. “Sneaking out after spending all night with me makes this easier? For who, Javi? You or me?”

His expression blazes with guilt. “You don’t understand what this is—what I’m trying to… protect you from.”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” you fire back, your hands trembling as you tuck them into the pockets of your robe to keep from reaching for him. “You tell me that you love me and give me all these empty promises only to sneak out after you’ve fucked me.” He winces. “What are you protecting me from now? From you? From us?”

Javier’s nostrils flare, his breathing ragged. Every point you make is so valid and it crushes him. “From the mess I’ve made.”

“Then tell me what the hell happened.” You can’t help him if you don’t know what’s killing him. “Be direct. Stop shutting me out and just talk to me! I deserve that much.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to deflect again, to retreat into the same cagey silence. But then he exhales sharply, like the words are being dragged out of him against his will.

“I killed him.”

The simplicity of it leaves you puzzled. “Who?”

“Mateo.”

Your chest tightens, trying to recall what he’s already told you about the other’s demise. “You said he died in the crossfire—”

“I lied.” The admission lands with the force of a hit, and Javier’s eyes meet yours, pleading for understanding but knowing it’s a futile hope. “I found him. Holed up in Cartagena. I dragged him out myself. Took him to a warehouse.” He grows quieter with each word, but the confession barrels forward. “I beat him. Then I emptied the entire clip into his body.”

The room goes deathly still, the echoes of his words lingering in the air. Even the rhythm of your breathing slows, like your body needs time to process what you’ve just heard.

“You… you dragged him out,” you repeat, as if saying it again might change its meaning. “You took him to a warehouse.”

He nods once, a sharp, curt motion, feeling as if he’s watching this outside of himself.

“And you—” The words burn in your throat. “You killed him. Like that. You… tortured him.”

“I had to.” The anguish bleeds through his words.

Had to.

It feels like the ground has just given out beneath you. Your lips part, but no words come. You’re staring at him like you’re seeing someone entirely different.

“Had to?” you can’t help but parrot, the excuse tastes bitter on your tongue. “Why couldn’t you just arrest him?” Mateo deserved all his suffering, sure, but it wasn’t up to Javier to enact it as so.

You’d made peace with the idea of his death when you thought it happened in the chaos of a raid. But this? This is something else entirely.

“It’s not that simple,” he tries, his voice rigid with frustration, but it feels like an insult to your intelligence. 

“Is this why you got fired? Because they found out you killed him?”

Another pause. His hesitation only stokes the fire burning in your chest.

“No.”

Now you’re spiraling, your mind racing to conjure something worse than killing a man that could’ve cost him his career.

You take a step closer, toe to toe now, your robe hanging loosely off your frame, his shirt still unbuttoned and exposing his chest. It’s hard to believe you were just entwined in carnal bliss. “What did you do, Javier?”

There’s so much hurt laced in your question, it’s a wonder the room doesn’t shatter around you. He looks away, his lips rubbing absentmindedly, mustache twitching as he struggles to form a response.

“I cooperated with them,” his confession feels jagged. “The cartels. The paramilitary assholes. Get Escobar—that was the goal.”

Your legs move on instinct, a shaky step backward, and Javier follows reflexively, his hand half-reaching for you before he thinks better of it. His presence only makes it worse, his body too close, his words too loud in your ears.

It’s like every fear wrapped into one devastating realization. After everything you went through—after the pain he watched you try to claw your way back from—he still went out there, trading his soul for deals made in blood.

“You knew what they did to me,” disappointment strings your words together, and while you understand that it wasn’t the same men who jumped you—they are all still cut from the same cloth. “You saw what they took from me, and you still…”

“There wasn’t another way,” he insists, desperate now, the plea in his eyes almost unbearable to look at. “I did what I had to do to bring him down.”

“There’s always another way!” You yell, the words ripping from your throat like they’re trying to drag the hurt out of you with them. “But you didn’t care. Not about the innocent people they killed or the lives they ruined.”

His face twists in anguish, as if he hadn’t been beating himself up for all the civilians that became casualties, but you don’t stop. The distress boils over, spilling out of you in a torrent. “The job always takes priority. Above everything—above everyone.”

Your hands act on their own, shoving at his chest as if the force could make him feel even an ounce of the pain you’re carrying. Javier doesn’t resist. He lets you push him, lets your palms land against him over and over, taking it all because he knows he deserves it.

“How am I supposed to look at you the same?” You demand, tears streaming freely down your face now, each one a testament to the betrayal sinking its claws into you. You shove him again, harder this time, backing him toward the living room. “How am I supposed to trust you when you’ve been lying to me this whole time?”

His own eyes glisten, cheek tensing in distress, but he doesn’t say a word because he can’t.

“You’re no better, Javier. You’re just like them.”

You begin to get flashbacks of your confrontation with Mateo. His callous words echo in your head, overlapping with Javier’s explanations. The two begin to blur together, their justifications eerily aligned, like different faces of the same haunting coin.

“This world isn’t all black and white like you think it is. People like me—we do what we have to, to survive.”

You stare at him, and for a moment, he’s not the man you love anymore. He’s another wraith from the nightmare you barely escaped.

“I know.”

He’s such a self-aware asshole, and it makes you livid. The way he stands there, bracing himself like he knows he deserves everything you’re throwing at him—like he’s already written himself off as the villain in this story. It’s infuriating.

The morning light streams in through the windows, slicing across the room in uneven beams. It’s amplifying everything: every emotion, every movement, every goddamn look he gives you as you stand off in the middle of the living room.

“Despite it all… you still found the time to fuck me. And I let you.”

You can feel the fire licking up your neck, but it’s not from embarrassment—it’s from the sting of humiliation. How you let yourself be fooled twice by two different men. 

You tighten your robe around you, the soft fabric suddenly feeling like sandpaper against your skin. Everything feels wrong now.

He watches you, his expression etched with guilt for making you question your worth. Despite it, he doesn’t regret taking you to bed.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” you continue, more to yourself than to him, carrying anger and self-loathing. “For trusting you again. For ignoring every single red flag you waved in my face. You weren’t just a shitty friend, Javi. You were a walking disaster, and I still let you back in.”

He flinches, but it’s not enough. You want him to feel it, to feel the way your heart aches and how your trust, fragile and carefully rebuilt, crumbles to dust at your feet.

“You should’ve stayed gone,” you state with another shove, forcing him closer to the front door. He continues to comply, stumbling backwards in silence, letting you release it all.

“If you cared about me at all, you would’ve stayed away. You just had to come back, had to get your hands on me again. And I was so desperate—so fucking desperate to believe you’d be different.”

You laugh tearfully, hands falling to your sides as you stand in the short hallway that leads to the entrance. “But you’re not different. You’re just a man with nothing but a big ego that’s drowning in his own penitence.”

He swallows hard, your words reverberating with the sickening truth and he wills himself to speak.

“Nothing was getting done,” Javi begins, the weariness of it all finally breaking him. “No one fucking cared. That motherfucker kept killing people, bombing the streets all while getting richer and untouchable. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I worked, it wasn’t enough. And then—” His voice tapers, gaze dropping for just a moment before moving back to yours.

“And then you got hurt. That was one thing I could fix. I could right the wrong, make you feel safer. I did it for you!”

“For me?” You scoff out a doubting laugh. “So, what, you decided you’d be judge, jury, and executioner? You think killing him—brutally, no less—makes any of it better? That it erases what he did to me?”

“It was a start—”

“You didn’t do this for me, Javier,” you cut him off, your voice teetering with fury and hurt. “You did it for you. To ease your guilt, to feel like you had control.”

His breathing grows ragged, his hands trembling at his sides. “You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to get so fucking lost I couldn’t tell the good guys from the bad anymore? I did what I had to do!”

“Stop saying that!” 

“I don’t know how else to fix this,” he fires back.

“And I don’t know how to believe you,” you whisper, the fight draining from your voice as tears spill freely down your cheeks. “All you do is hurt me, Javi.”

Javier steps back, his shoulders slumping, his entire frame caving in. Desperation flickers in his eyes as he reaches for the only card he has left to play—the last, sapped attempt to salvage what little remains.

 “I’m sorry,” he breathes, though it’s barely audible. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Your body freezes when he gets closer. His large hands tremble slightly as they cup your face.

“I never wanted to hurt you. Te amo.” He murmurs, his voice soft and pained as his forehead presses against yours. His lips brush yours, and it sends a jolt through your body, a cruel reminder of all the ways he’s managed to slither his way back into your heart and mind. 

Your lips quiver, salty wet trails streaking your cheeks. “No,” you whisper, shaking your head and pushing against his chest, your palms meeting his bare skin where his shirt falls open. You manage to break away, the distance between you offering only the barest reprieve.

But Javier doesn’t stop. He steps forward again, crowding you, his desperation palpable. “Please, cariño,” he implores. “I love you. I need you to know that. I’m sorry—so sorry.” The words tumble out of him in a desperate loop, growing more frantic each time, as if sheer repetition might somehow undo the damage. 

And fuck do you hear the genuine ache there, but it doesn’t matter. You’ve heard it all before—the apologies, the promises, the declarations. None of it fixes this. 

Despite your actions, your body betrays you. Even as you try to shove him away, you feel the magnetic pull, the infuriating draw that keeps you tangled in his orbit. It’s a push and pull, your hands shoving at his chest while your heart screams at you to stop.

And you hate him for it. For the way he makes you feel. For the way his arms still feel like home even as your love for him falls apart.

“All I hear is excuses. Like always. Get off me, Javier.” Your voice shakes, but the resolve in it is ironclad, each word laced with finality. You swallow back your sobs, forcing yourself to sound strong—for him, for yourself. He hears it too; the end is in your tone. You’re done.

His hands linger on your waist for a moment longer, the satin of your robe bunched helplessly in his grasp. Reluctantly, he lets go, his back brushing against the doorknob as if the exit is pushing him to leave.

Javier’s gaze lingers over you one last time, absorbing every detail like a man cataloging his losses.

The swollen redness of your eyes and how you seem to fold into yourself as if shielding your heart from further harm. Because of him. The betrayal etched deep into your expression cuts deeper than any wound he’s ever felt. Because of him. It all screams painful vulnerability, lowered self-esteem you didn’t have before.

All he’s done is hurt you. Him and his inability to separate his good intentions from his devastating habits. Him and his selfishness, pursuing you when he knew better.

Now you get a good look at him: disheveled, bags shadowing his weary eyes, faint bruises staining his jawline, his heaving chest exposed and slick with the sweat of desperation.

You both stand in silence, weighed down by words unspoken because there’s nothing left to say. The air between you is charged with the knowledge that you despise what he’s become.

He reaches for the door and opens it, the sound of the bolt sliding back loud in the tense silence.

Time marches on, indifferent to your heartbreak, and Javier hesitates, his boots heavy as they meet the threshold.

Gathering every ounce of strength left in you, you find your voice. “Please leave… and don’t come back.”

Your voice prompts him, cold and resolute, and it takes everything in him to obey. He steps out, the apartment door left wide open behind him.

He turns, desperate for one last look, the soft daylight framing him like a man on the edge of a cliff. “I love you.”

You grip the edge of the door, willing yourself not to fall apart further. “Not anymore,” you whisper, venom interwoven through the statement. “Never again.”

And with that, you shut the door in his face, turning the lock with trembling hands.

The weight of it all crashes over you now that you’re alone and you stumble back, collapsing right there on the floor. You bury your face in the crook of your elbow to muffle the sobs racking your body as you begin to mourn the loss of the man you loved.

On the other side of the door, Javier stands frozen, the loss sinking into his bones. The worn numbers of your apartment stare back at him, mocking him with their permanence.

He blinks slowly, a single tear leaking from his eye as his fingers brushing the wood one last time before he turns away, dragging his feet next door, knowing that he’s lost you forever.

Months later, you receive a letter.

The envelope is creased and smudged, the handwriting unmistakably his—slanted, hurried, like he couldn’t get the words down fast enough. You almost toss it, but that small, unhealed part in your heart with his name carved on it keeps you from doing so.

I’m sorry. For everything. I think about you every day, and I know I have no right to, but I do. I hope you’re happy. You deserve that much…

You read it over and over until the words blur.

You never write back. There’s no reason to.

Some love stories don’t end with a clean break or a tidy resolution. Some just… linger, like a wound that scabs over but never truly heals.

And that’s what you and Javier become: a scar, a memory that neither of you can fully let go of, no matter how hard you try.

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[hoseoksluna]

THE END OF THE WORLD | pjm

pairing: best friend!jimin x f. reader

genre: fluff

rating: 13+

summary: when you thought your period cramps would bring in the end of the world, you didn't realize your feelings for jimin would get reciprocated in the middle of it all.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: reader is on her period; brief mention of period blood, jimin has a cute (non-sexual) fixation on reader's feet, kissing, anxiety, the problematics of heavy thoughts, insecurities and feeling not worthy of good things.

luna's note: this little thing literally came out of nowhere. i started writing this at work on friday when i had severe cramps and i felt soft enough to write a little fluff. where my jimin girls at? i've been heavily fixated on jimin lately, seeking comfort in him, buying pcs from muse photoshoot bc it's my favorite. the jimin i wrote about is an older, buffier jimin with blond hair bc that's my weakness. i hope you like this figment of my imagination and that it makes you as soft as it made me. i love you all, sending kisses mwah.

𓂃 ౨ৎ

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@mar-lo-pap, @perfectiondazesworld @blackswanpt2 @rpwprpwprpwprw

The pain that coursed across your lower tummy felt like the world ending, and your boy friend carried more beauty than a mere mortal could ever achieve. Too bad there was that doomful space between those two words that speak of his role in your life, even though his current position suggests such closeness that those letters could easily melt together. 

Jimin rests the side plane of his face on the middle of your thigh. You repose on the left side of your bed, seemingly bloodless while you exude liters upon liters of the carmine liquid, which makes you wonder how you’re still alive. The wings of your ovaries constrict and constrict, right under his face, reflecting the membrane of his own pair that you’ve watched grow into those of an archangel throughout the trajectory of your life with him. You try to ignore the pain, even as your features twist in helplessness, and instead imagine the colors that could swift through those feathers. 

Pistachio green. Brown that fades into a soft pink. Maybe a little subdued yellow. 

You’ve always thought he was an angel by the way his presence in your day simply made it better. More joyful, more loving, more gentle. But the more you blossomed into adulthood with him, and your frontal lobe developed as well as your unconditional feelings for him, the more you comprehended he was your angel. And not just an ordinary one. 

He was your archangel. 

He would protect you from people that had no space in your life, no luck or love to pepper your nose with. On the packed public transport, he would cover your knees with his hand so no male strangers would touch you with the back of their legs. If a guy came to make a mess out of your life, he would deal with him in a way that would force him to apologize to you and never bother you again. If someone, no matter their gender, caused you sadness in any small or big form, he made sure they regretted it. And, more often than not, your archangel bought you boba. 

You must’ve tried all the flavors from your favorite bubble bar by now. And by all means, crème brûlée was your favorite—only because when you drank it for the first time, you realized that you irrevocably loved the boy with the faux blond hair, pillowy lips, kind heart and confidential tattoos. And when this dawned upon you, it seemed as though Jimin knew—because he blushed and didn’t say anything for a while. The unspoken information, kept safely in the cores of yours and his being, not born into this world. That’s why it’s your favorite. 

It’s the one that is set on your nightstand right now, unopened, with the straw still captive in the translucent foil. It took only one response to his daily how are you text for him to drive to your usual bubble bar on his way to you, and upon seeing the beige peek through the cup, along with the brown sugar syrup, it’s a miracle your knees didn’t give out on you. The fact he chose this drink over all the other ones you love fed your heart the delusions that maybe, just maybe he loved you back. 

That he wasn’t just a kind boy, whose love language was physical touch, and that’s why he’s laying in your lap. 

Maybe, if you did any good in your life, Jimin gazes at you from this lower position while fondling your aching tummy because he feels something deeper than a sympathy for you. 

The pain almost forces you to ask that life-altering question for clarification. Almost. It is on the tip of your tongue, perfect and fluid, breathless and fearless, but you hold it back because Jimin extends one finger and traces patterns on your bloated belly. 

And not just any patterns.

He’s drawing wings. 

His own flutter in the air. Green, brown, pink and yellow. As if he’s giving life to them by drawing a miniature version of them on your clothed skin. And as they flutter, they open and close, open and close. They lift him, leave him hovering above you for a mere second while his hands find a good spot on the mattress outside of the lines of your body, until he settles. His body plops down onto yours, bringing in such heat that you softly gasp and close your eyes at the impact, and you don’t know what to feel, what your hands are doing as they lift, too, and interlock behind his neck, and you don’t know what this is. 

Is this what friends normally do? 

You wouldn’t know. Jimin has been your only boy friend since… forever. And you can’t think properly because the heat penetrating you mingles with your cramps and his body weight messes with your brain, emptying it out until there’s only two sentences that linger. 

One: I love you, Jimin.

Two: We are connected beyond the laws of this world, through strings which are transparent. 

The second sentence only expands, in metaphorical terms, on the first one.

Jimin’s cheek is reddened by his former position in your lap. A circle of soft and wrinkly skin that must be as warm as the rest of him. His blond hair is a bird’s nest, which an entire league of lesser angels must take care of. And his mellow smile gives off such snug light that it reaches his eyes, dissolving there like sparks of a dying fire. 

You love him, and you fail to understand how it has come to be—him laying on top of you. Did you smiling at the cashier in the grocery stop while you paid for your pads earlier get you this blessing? If the world ended in the next minute, you’d be happy, you wouldn’t mind at all because this, this is everything to you. You’re afraid to speak, to break the spell of the moment, and you feign an absolute calmness, not daring to move an inch, despite the fact your internal organs are colored by fireworks that burst and burst as soon as his breathing syncs with yours. 

It’s not that your lungs copied his—his lungs copied yours, and there’s something terribly intimate about that. 

You can’t halt the scarlet tinge rushing through your cheeks, one of the flower-shaped fireworks flung through you. Jimin’s tender eyes fall to them, one by one, and his mouth cracks the tiniest of smiles, as if he, too, held himself back from ruining the moment. The room is saturated with rosiness that feels light, and you wonder how long has it actually been since you’ve put on these rose-colored glasses. 

How strange it is in reality, to love someone without them knowing. 

You’re a slave to things hitting you all of a sudden. You tend to live in a dreamy headspace, walking through life seeking the arts, the poems, the book lines that cut through your heart without any ounce of pity, and when reality infiltrates that fog like the winter’s sun, the rosiness loses its hue. 

Just like right now. 

What are you doing? What is Jimin doing and why is he doing it? It’s not right, it shouldn’t be like this, you haven’t done anything to deserve this. You don’t think smiling at a cashier would make you deserve—

“Is the pain any better?” 

His tender voice percolates into your anxious thoughts like a pyrotechnic with colors inside its throat, the very fireworks inside you, and they meet in the middle of your sternum, connecting, clicking, never to be torn apart—at least not for a while. Their bond erases your fear, making space for a clean frame of mind, and your brain cells focus on your aching lower belly. The pain has lessened due to the heat radiating off Jimin’s body and seeping into yours, you let out a long breath that caresses the shorter pieces of his hair, and your muscles loosen, your senses returning to you. 

You can smell Jimin.

Apple shampoo, the sweet vanilla of his fragrance, laced most delectably with the manly spice of his aftershave. And the savoriness of his natural scent. 

A moment of physical serenity. 

Your fingers twitch behind the nape of his neck, pining to play with his hair. You take a lungful of the whole essence of him, your pining dilating as your instinct begs you to fist the downy material of his cashmere sweater, drag him up and bury your nose in his neck. 

You do none of those things, however. Your fingers keep on twitching, and so you close them into a fist, holding your thumb for comfort, willing the blackness of your thoughts away. 

You nod your head and suddenly, your body does as it pleases. For a reason unknown to you, your free finger taps the center of the back of his neck, and you’re not sure if it was that brief touch that cast such light in his eyes, or whether it was the fact that he’s helping your cramps. 

You wish you’d stop thinking at all. It’s exhausting, fighting and analyzing all the fucking time. You wish you could just live in the moment, experiencing the beauty of your senses quietly without any intrusions of your thoughts, and as Jimin sizes you up with all that light glossing over his irises, it seems as though he knows the ins and outs of your daily struggles. 

You don’t know that he’s been paying attention all this time. A very close one, at that. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, throwing you off balance enough that your eyes widen and the blood in your veins turns cold. The pain in your belly stops at once as all your concentration is fixed on the call-out. “You haven’t touched your favorite boba. You haven’t said a full sentence since I came over and you keep frowning. What’s wrong?” 

His chest lifts and he reaches over to your bedside table, grabbing the drink he spoke of and placing it on your swollen tummy. His teeth rip off the plastic foil over the straw and he plunges it with utmost expertise inside the large cup, setting off the fireworks inside you all over again as if it was New Year’s eve. And maybe it is—maybe Jimin has fast-forwarded the time and given you a chance to make a change in your life, a new year resolution that could make everything better. 

If only you weren’t such a coward—a wolf of bravery in a foolish, timid sheep’s skin. 

But the tears that rush through when Jimin tilts the cup and the straw to your lips while holding it steady, they have the power to clean you off the old and the ostensibly innate structure of your insecurities. And when they roll down your cheeks and Jimin’s mouth parts in abrupt shock molded by compassion, you sense that their power is bigger than you. 

Your lips wrap around the thick straw and suck in the saccharine, creamy delight. It suffuses all of your senses, and once the black, squishy tapioca plops into your mouth, a soothing tendril of joy overwhelms every inch of your being. To such an extent that you begin to bawl. 

And splutter out the contents of your mind. 

“My mind is always running and I’m so tired of it, like I can’t catch up anymore,” you sob, chewing the boba while your tears freely fall. Jimin continues holding the cup and when your hand wraps around his, the other one encloses around your wrist—the gesture propelling you to spill out more. “I’m always analyzing, always thinking if I’m worthy of this and that. If it’s okay, if I should stop, if I should do something or not, if I—” You sigh, not able to find the words to describe what you’re experiencing. Frustration latches onto you, inciting your anger that begins to ooze out of your every pore. “When you were laying down on my lap, all I could think about was—” You stop yourself, slapping your mouth, realizing that you nearly said too much. 

But Jimin knits his brows, and the hand that held your wrist tugs away the limb that halted the flow of your words. “Keep going.” 

Your heart pounds, violently. The moment feels too severe, and yet your mind is oddly… silent. As if the anger that washed over you scrubbed it completely clean—clean enough that you perceive this to be an interruption rather than a saving. Your mouth wants to continue to speak and your heart… it pushes the words up your throat. 

You feel like puking your guts up, although there’s a strange determination prickling the ends of your fingertips. 

You swallow and in the middle of the interlude, Jimin sits up. Sets your boba on the hard surface of your closed laptop nearby. The sudden distance pulls you, as if by a string, to a sitting position as well, and both of you simultaneously criss-cross your legs while your heart threatens to leap out of your esophagus. You’re stomaching the feeling that you’ve done something wrong, which caused him to exit the closeness you were in, and you tense up and nearly tremble with the need to fix it. 

Jimin opens his mouth, about to say something, but you’re quicker. You’re going to give him what he asked you, just so you can have him close again. 

“When you were in my lap, I couldn’t believe it,” you start softly, graced with the attention of his eyes as they flick up to you in surprise. Your nerve endings sizzle, giving you the words to continue, no matter how devastatingly acute this situation is. “I tried to think of all the things I did that made me deserve having you this close, but I came up short every time. I didn’t understand how our closeness happened to begin with and I didn’t think I was worthy of it. Still do. That’s all.” 

You exhale loudly, detecting no heaviness on your chest, but absolute freedom, out of which blades of grass grow, a perfect home for wildflowers. But a cloud extends over it and it begins to rain as you watch Jimin’s natural expression break into a vivid canvas of dolefulness. The eye contact breaks along with it. The faux-blond boy hangs his head low, his long eyelashes flitting, and you think the world is ending right now as you’re taking small, careful breaths, knowing they’re the last ones. 

But Jimin’s forefinger finds your big toe, and he plays with it. Moves it back and forth, fondles it, squeezes it. Makes the last seconds of this life a little more bearable before it collapses over your head. Ponders something unknown, seemingly prolonging this end. And when he’s had enough and he fists all of your toes and looks up at you, it’s not that he stops this finale. 

He snatches you and takes you to the other world.

“I have something to tell you as well,” he says, his voice coated by that sadness and regret his whole energy is permeated with. He blinks rapidly, running his tongue over his bottom lip inside his mouth, gathering courage or perhaps waiting for your full attention because you’re dipping your gaze in and out of the intimacy of the way he’s holding your foot and the nipping graveness of this moment. 

Everything is too much at once.

“I’ve been a fool,” he starts, similarly like you did, biting the bottom lip he moistened as if to punish himself while busying his eyes on your pink toenail. He strokes the lacquer, shaking his head slowly. “I’ve done all of those things and I still do them without telling you the truth, without confessing.” He flicks his eyes up at you from his downward position, elbows propped on his knees, his stature hunched and buffy. Stops the beat of your heart with that brief look as you anticipate his next words. Sighs, the sound loud and heavy, bearing the kind of guilt and affliction that gnaws at the flesh he owns. Your brain turns off and every morsel of your feelings desires to help him, to make him feel better, but the following words that come out his mouth are the last stop to the other world, and everything is born anew. “I’ve loved you since the moment I first saw you. Soaked like a puppy in the rain, waiting all alone for your friends to finish flirting with the guys outside of the club in Hongdae. I’ve loved you since that moment because you were just like me. You weren’t in the mood, you didn’t want anyone to talk to you. I’m still surprised you smiled your beautiful smile at me when I waved at you, that you let me talk to you.”

The memory sails before your eyes like a murky cloud. All of your friends standing under the roof, smoking and talking to guys, not leaving any space for you to hide yourself from the rain. Jimin finding you in that crowd, waving at you, perceptibly softening when you waved back and smiled because you felt lonely, overlooked and profoundly depressed and he was the only one who saw you. The memory ends at the scene when Jimin walks towards you, takes off his jacket and holds it over your head while getting soaked himself.

Your cheeks were dry from your tears, but they get stained all over again as new tears begin to pour, your heart tender, beating hard but quietly from his confession. Jimin moves your foot over to his lap, drifting his fingers over it, and the tickling sensation prevents your anxious thoughts from reappearing. You breathe in his words, letting them in, letting the change in, all while you squirm and hushedly giggle from his tickles. 

Strange, strange emotions, towering over you, but they feel right—they feel like heaven, and you think that’s where your archangel has taken you.

He loves you. 

You love him and he loves you back.

He loves you.

“I’m sorry that I confused you. I should’ve told you sooner, but I was… afraid,” he says, boring his eyes into yours, sending out the authenticity, with which he covered his words, and the regret he deeply feels. “I was afraid you were comfortable with us being just friends, but still I couldn’t physically keep my distance. It was a mistake on my part, so again I’m sorry I made you feel this way.” 

Your heart grows and your body is too small to cage it inside, ferocious and wild with all the love it feels for the faux-blond boy. You feel constricted and you rid yourself of the iffy sensation by inching a little closer and enveloping your arms around his shoulders. And this time, you have the freedom to sink your fingers into his chamomile-colored hair. You have the freedom to feel the softness, to hear his quiet, confidential purr of pleasure from your touch, which essentially spurs you on to move a little further upon this trail of freedom. 

“I’ve loved you for a long time, too,” you confess, and it’s the easiest thing your mouth ever emitted. No dark thoughts ruin it, but instead you understand that everything Jimin has done for you was through the strings of love that connect you to him. Your delusions weren’t delusions; they were all true conceptions and they were broiling, begging to be let out. “I fell in love with you because of your actions, because of the way you took care of me, because of the way you treated me. No one has ever treated me like you did. You’re a beautiful person with a kind heart—”

Jimin interrupts you with a cry of your name. He yanks you fully into his lap, wrapping your legs around him to make you comfortable, and he embraces you. Tightly, heartfully. You fit into him like petals to disc florets, and you never want to leave. An ardent awareness of safety swallows you whole, especially when he scrunches up your hair and nuzzles his face in your neck, breathing against you so heavily that your entire world spins. 

And then he pulls you away, and asks you the kind of question that deprives you of everything you ever knew, romantically. 

“Can I kiss you? Please, let me kiss you. Jebal.” 

The smile that stretches over your face aches as you vehemently nod and Jimin doesn’t waste a singular second. 

He smashes his mouth against yours, igniting hundreds, if not thousands, of butterflies with a loving fire that they spread across every inch of you. The kiss is deep, and unlike any kiss depicted in any kind of art that you ever longed for. Your mind is gone as soon as Jimin breaks the kiss for a millisecond and goes for another one, seizing your lips, owning them, doing to them whatever he wants. The past world is gone, heaven is in full bloom, with a legion of lesser angels celebrating the kiss of the ending century. The time is gone, too, as both of you kiss until your lips get numb, and the look you give to each other makes those innocent winged creatures cover their eyes in shyness. 

The kissing doesn’t stop there. 

With every turn of the head, with every peck and with every brush of the tongue, it fulfills everything you ever lacked. You forget every poem you learned. The colors of the paintings you liked pale in comparison. And every book scene you envisioned before you went to bed is filled with emptiness. Jimin becomes the center of your new life that stands above the fictional one you so earnestly wanted, and you tell him of it with every kiss you reciprocate.

With words, too, later when you’ve caught your breath and Jimin is spooning you with his hand on your lower belly, occasionally stretching his neck over your shoulder to take a sip of your delicious boba. And you tell him again in your dreams, where the comprehension that you no longer have to live in your headspace in order to be happy and fulfilled unfolds. You make friends with the angels and tell them as well, watching what they do as they run their fingers through his hair, making mental notes, folding them into your heart. 

You do what you learned in the bathroom the following morning, even through the excruciating pain of your cramps. Jimin kisses your feet for it, orders you to rest as he massages them, having brought you some painkillers. And when they take effect and you can function like a normal human being, you note down your first life full of art with him.

And title the first page—“THE END OF THE WORLD, THE BEGINNING OF MINE”.

© 2025 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

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[thatgirlsworld36]

Jobe Bellingham nsfw alphabet

(minors DN!!!)

TW: NSFW themes; read it only if you will feel comfortable. English is not my first language. 

Enjoy <3

A= Aftercare(what they're after sex)

Jobe is the sweetest after it. The only thing he wants to do is keep you close in his arms. But first he always makes sure you are alright because sometimes things can get pretty rough.

His head is buried in your hair/neck and whisper praises in your ear such as “You did so good for me” “My sweet girl was made for me” etc. , while his hands are all over your body, dragging his thumb and fingers over all your moles and scars trying to help your poor body relax.

After some time he gets up to run you a bath or to order food if you are hungry. Everything you want and desire. But if you two are too tired he will just put a blanket over you two naked bodys(did i hear round two in the morning??) and just fall asleep with you in his arms.  

B= Body part(their favorite body part and also their partner's)

I just KNOW this man can’t choose between your boobs and ass. He doesn’t care what their sizes are or the way they look. He just can’t imagine a day without having his palms over your breasts using them as a “stress relief balls” as he says or slapping your ass every now and then when he somehow end up behind you(always do it intentionally)

But he also like your eyes. He always says that they are magnetic and they make him all wrapped over your finger with just one look. He also like them when you roll your eyes back during it…

For him- his smile. For sure. He just love how he can make you smile almost every time with only him smiling.(I mean have we seen his smile?? I’m all folded every single time…) I think he also like his palms and fingers. He just love how small your hands look in his because of his pretty high height for a football player.

C= Cum(anything to do with cum basically)

Inside. Sometimes in your mouth. I don’t think he is a big fan of coming on your face or your back/tummy(not like he doesn't do it sometimes). He just prefers to watch how his sperm is dripping from your cunt or all down your chin. When he finish he always stay there a little longer just to make sure that everything will stay there(did i hear a little breeding kink?)

D= Dirty secret(pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret they desire)

Jobes dream is to fuck you in his brothers bed. He can’t explain why. He has always felt suppressed because of Jude so he wants to know that HE was able to make you cum there and then Jude to don't know, makes Jobe go insane. He will never tell you tho…

E= Experience(how experienced are they?)

Here is the thing, I don't think Jobe is very experienced. I mean you were not his first but he doesn’t have many bodies before you. He has always given his best to train and leave his brother's shadow so he “kept it in his pants”.

F= Favorite position(again, pretty self explanatory)

Missionary. May seem boring but he wants to watch your eyes and every little expression you make. That also gives him almost all of the control. He loves how you dig your nails into his back and wrap your legs around his waist to bring him impossibly closer.  So yeah, he prefers it that way. 

G= Goffy (are they more serious in the moment? do they joke during it?)

I think he will be more serious when he is angry after he loses a game or something like that. But at the other time he will crack jokes. Like all the time, but not too much. You got me?

H= Hair(how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc)

He has a considerable amount of hair there, curly and dark. He doesn't care much about things like that, but if you want him to shave it all or at least a little bit he would. Jobe doesn't want it to be unpleasant for you when you're giving him a head, so you can tell him to shave it if you wanna.

He also doesn’t care if you are shaved or not. Whatever makes you comfortable. 

I= intimacy(how intimate are they during it?)

Jobe's a very romantic guy, even when he's dominating you. He is always talking to you through it and the eye contact with him is on another level.

J= Jack off(masturbation headcanon)

It happens sometimes. Since you two are together he almost stopped doing it. But sometimes when he is away for a game or you just simply can’t be with him at that moment and he is turned on by something(probably you were teasing him over a chat or he was looking at your pictures for a little too long) he “break” the tension.

K= Kink(one or more of their kinks)

Don’t come at me, but i think that under his sweet nature he is in some freaky shits.

Something like SLIGHT bondage because he have all the power and I think he needs to feel like most of the things are in his hands.

Praises because let’s be honest he for sure have a little complexes because of Jude.(and this is so sad) So you shouldn't forget to tell him how good he’s making you feel. But don’t worry he will also praise you. 

SLIGHTLY overstimulation and edging. I don’t want to talk about that. I just feel it like this(argue with the wall) 

Dom-sub. Again, for I don't know which time- he NEED to know he have the power. That something deppend on his, that HE is someone…(poor him)

But let's not forget he won’t do anything that would make you uncomfortable. 

L= Location(favorite place to do it)

Mostly in his bed. This man is trying to keep his life private as possible, so he won’t risk so much to do it in public where you two can get caught.

Also in his car during the night when everything is dark and the chance someone sees you is not so big. 

M= Motivation(what turns them on?)

You. You breathing, you eating, you reading…just you existing. But ESPECIALLY when you are wearing some of his shirts or sweaters. 

N= No(something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Anything that can actually hurt you. Yes, he like when things get pretty rough, but no, he won’t make you suffer and feel pain for a long period of time. Also if he sees that you are even slightly uncomfortable during something new you two try he will immediately stop. 

O= Oral( preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc..)

This man LOVE to eat you out. I think the word was munch? He can spend all day and all night between your thighs doing the same thing over and over. He also love when you are giving him head. The way you look down on your knees looking with watery eyes up to him makes him go INSANE. 

P= Pace(are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

When you first started doing it he was slow and really gentle. He was scared that he could accidentally hurt you. When you told him you will be okay he started going harder. But it also depends on the mood. Sometimes he just needs a rough fuck after a rough practise and  sometimes he just wants to hold you and take things slow.

Q= Quickie(their opinions on quickies, how often etc..)

It’s not his favorite but sometimes if you have somewhere to be and one of you want it he is down. But he prefers the normal sex so he can have more time for everything. 

R= Risk(do they take risk? How far are they ready to go?)

As I said he doesn’t want to risk someone catching you and make you feel uncomfortable. But let’s say that you two have done it once or twice in the stadium after a bad football game…

S= Stamina(how many rounds can they go? how long do they last?)

Normally around 2-3 rounds, he would go for ages until you cum at least twice. This man has been an athlete his whole life so he know how to don’t get tired so easily. 

T= Toys(do they own toys? do they use them?)

He doesn't own any, but you have a few. He'll use them on you every now and then, but he wants to be the one pleasuring you, not some toys. 

U= Unfair(how much do they like to tease?)

Oh this man is a tease. He will probably overstimulate you or not let you cum until he says so. But you know it will be worth it in the end. 

V= Volume(how loud they are during it?)

Loves to talk dirty. He's always whispering stuff in your ear. Jobe does not scream or moan very loudly but he does gasp and moan softly, sometimes he can even whimper or grunt gutturally.

W= Wild card(a random headcanon)

One time you two made a bet  that you can last longer than him without sex. This became a two weeks long bet of nothing but teasing and touching, trying to make the other one crack. Jobe cracked first, he couldn't keep handling it any more.  

X= X-Ray(let's see what's going on under those clothes)

I mean we all have seen Bellingham's genes but I think it's more thicker than the average and not that long.

Y= Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Let's say he's average (I don't see him as a guy who is horny all the time)

Z= Zzz(how quickly they fall asleep afterwards?)

He definitely sleeps better after sex, but he makes sure you are asleep before he goes to sleep. He wants to make sure your comfortable and had many cuddles before he close his eyes.(even tho it’s hard for him if he had exhausting day) 

[vulpixisananimal]

[A:4 C:66.3]

(Siffrin) {Mal Du Pays} <Null> |Asterion| [Loop] [(Saffron)]

You bolt upright, still shaking from the nightmare. You were, were in the house. Alone. Lost in a maze. Following the script all by yourself. You were scared, alone, and. . . A-and it's over, now.

You’re in bed, Isabeau next to you, Alex on the other. It was a little weird, but what could you do? Kick them out? No. You sigh, it was pretty obvious you weren’t getting back to sleep.

You carefully get out of bed, out the room, and downstairs. Maybe some water, or a snack, might help. Or you could go stargazing? That would be nice. . . You pause for a moment, hearing something. A sound, water, boiling water? No, no quite. Is it. . . Oh. Hot chocolate.

Bonnie’s up, too.

Your cloak is by the front door, you grab it and put it on on your way to the kitchen. You could see there’s a light, and as you rounded the doorframe you saw Bonnie. Standing on a box at the stove making hot chocolate. They don’t turn to you.

“. . . Can’t sleep, huh?” You ask, softly.

Bonnie jolts in surprise, luckily not spilling the coco. They glance at you, bags under their eyes, then back to the pot. “. . . Mmhm.”

“Nightmare?”

“. . . . . .Mmhm. . .” They sigh. “. . . You too?”

“. . Yeah. . .” 

Bonnie just looks down at the coco, keeps stirring for a minute, then takes a sip. “. . Go grab a mug.”

You wordlessly go to the cupboard and grab a mug. You bring it over, and Bonnie fills yours, as well as their own oversized mug, with hot coco. You thank them, and take a sip. Cinnamon, creamy, tasty. It made you feel warm. 

You both walk back to the living room, taking the light with you. You slump on the couch, and Bonnie sits on the floor in front of it. There’s a long silence, the two of you taking sips of your coco. It’s Bonnie who finally speaks up.

“. . . . A Sadness killed us” They mumble. “Fourth time, I think. . .”

“Oh. . .” You look down, thinking. “. . . We only, falled to six sadness, I think.”

“Died.” Bonnie replies, annoyed. “I’m not a kid, just say we died. Okay?”

“. . . Okay.” You take a breath. “We died six times to sadness.”

Bonnie’s quiet for a bit. “‘N the pineapple?”

“Twice.”

“Dummy.”

“It tasted good! You make good food, Boniface.”

“. . . Sure. . .” They huff. “. . . N’ the rock?”

“Oh uh. . . Three times. First time I look for traps in each part of the room, it was the first time I died. The other two I just. . . Forgot.”

“. . . Okay.” They take a sip of coco. “Seenit twice then.”

“. . . Sorry.”

They shuffle up from the floor to next to you on the couch. “. . . ‘Sokay.”

“It’s. . .” You glance at them, then away. What were you supposed to say? That it’s not okay? That you’re sorry? That you wish you could fix this? That this is going to be with them forever?!? You put your mug to the side. “. . Have you seen me touch the tears?”

They take another sip of coco. “Mmhm, but that’s okay. ‘Snot scary.”

“. . . Okay.” You pause and take a breath. At least you could do this. “. . . There’s going to be a time where, where you accidentally push me into one, okay? It’s alright, I wasn’t angry then, not angry now, okay?”

“. . . O-okay. . .” They shuffle a bit closer, ducking their head. “. . . Why’d you stop?”

“Stop?”

“Using, the tears.”

“Oh.” You bite your lip and look away. Why did you need to do it? Why didn’t you all listen to Loop. Loop’s right, Loop’s ALWAYS right. Stars. . . “. . . I-it was, faster. I’m sorry.”

“. . .” They put the coco aside, and tuck their legs close to their chest. “Don’t do it again. Crab”

“We won't. I promise.” You try to talk in the most comforting way you could. Look at them, they’re shaking “. . . Bonnie?

They’re mumbling. “. . Yeah?”

“I. . .” You look away, then back, your heart hurts. You didn’t want to ask, you really didn’t want to. But you had to know. “. . . What about, the King?”

Bonnie tucks their legs closer

Your body feels numb, a lump in your throat. You knew, you knew deep down, that only meant one thing. One terrible thing.

They’re tearing up.

“. . . . Bonbon. . .” You, open your arms a bit. “. . Do you, want a hug-”

No sooner had you finished that sentence than Bonnie leaped into your open arms. They’re sobbing, holding onto you tight.

“‘F-Frin. . .” They were mumbling between sobs. “I-it, hurt. . . .

You could feel your heart shatter into pieces. Bonnie was hurt, Bonnie was hurt and it’s your fault. It was your fault then, it’s your fault now. You did this to them. You monster. You need to fix this, you need to make this right, and protect them, and, and. . .

You shut your eye tightly, and start to wrap your arms around Bonnie, but, pause. Can’t hug, can’t hug tight, shouldn’t. Too similar, too scary, but, but. . . 

You gently undo your cloak, take it off, then drape it over Bonnie. You put a gentle hand in their hair. They keep crying for a few minutes more, until it dies down to shaky breathing, then just, breathing. The two of you stay there for a little bit more, content.

Eventually, Bonnie cuts through the silence again. “. . . D-do I, get-”

“No.” You speak your wavering breath. “I-I made sure, every time, you’d be okay. I-I. . .”

“Thank you. . .” You feel Bonnie hug you tighter.

Another minute passes before Bonnie lets go and sits up. Once they notice the cloak around them, they pull closer. “. . . Thanks ‘Frin.”

You softly smile. “Comfy?”

“Mmhm.” They close their eyes. “Super comfy.”

“Heheh.” You pat Bonbon on the head. “Maybe I should make you your own.”

Bonnie doesn’t respond for a second, before their eyes bolt open. “Hey!! Don’t make fun of me!! Crabface!!”

“I’m serious! It’s a very important thing to have, I think.” You hold your hands up. “And careful, don’t want to wake the whole house.”

“Oh, okay.” Bonnie calmed down, instead leaning on you. “Uhm. . . Important?”

“Mmhm!” You put an arm around them as you talk. “You give white cloaks to your younger family, essentially. It’s made by a parent, a guardian, an uncle or aunt’ It’s a piece of themself they give to you to. . .” You trail off, memory getting foggy. How did you know about. . . You close your eye. “. . . I. . . if you, want one I could. . . I could make one. If you. . .”

“. . . I’d like that.” They mumble, but then shuffle to look up at you. “. . . You’re not ‘Frin.”

“Huh? I’m. . .” No they’re right, wait, who were you? You. . . Hadn’t thought about that. You knew you weren’t Siffrin, or, you were, but. . . “I. . . Guess I’m not.”

“Who’re you?”

You shrug. “No idea.”

“Are you new?”

“I. . .” Hmm. . . You, might be. You take a breath, can you see yourself. . .? You look around the favor tree, no-one else around You held your hands out, they’re. . . Different. Ah. “. . . I think so.”

“Oh, okay.” Bonnie looked at you, then poked your nose. “Boop!”

“Ack!” You grabbed your nose dramatically. “I’ve been booped!”

“Haha!!” Bonnie grinned. “You’re still funny, though.”

“Heheh, thanks, Bonbon.”

“Uhm, do you have a name?” You shake your head. “Okay, could I help?”

You chuckle. “Heh, alright, o’ master of names.”

Bonnie's brow furrowed as the gears in their head started turning. You sat patiently, waiting for their answer.

“. . . . Rosemary.” They finally respond. “That’s uhm, I remember reading that helps with memory.”

“Rosemary. . . Oh! Rosmarinus? That’s an old name for it.” +You smile down at Boniface and pat their head+ “Thanks, Bonnie.”

“Mmm. .” +Came their response. They leaned against you.+ “Journal?”

“Left it in our room.” +You relax back.+ “. . . Could you please remind us tomorrow Bonbon? With that magic memory of yours?”

+Bonnie laughed at that, and fully lay down on your lap.+ “‘Kay. . .”

“Thanks.” +You yawn, and get comfortable.+ “Sleepy again?”

“Mmhm. . .” +They mumble.+

“Let’s try and get some rest then.” +You close your eye, Hoping sleep would soon claim you also+ “I’ll be right here if you have a nightmare, okay?”

“‘Kay. . .”

“. . . Good night, Bonbon. . .” 

“. . Night, ‘Frin. . .”

[meimeimeirin]

still on tumblr break, but since i just logged in and saw several asks, i thought i'd clarify a few things here.

regarding me and @/zhongrin

in summary:

zhongrin is privated and archived permanently.

for the two people who asked, yeah, i'm alright.

more utc, but you can skip.

to expand more on the 'sudden' archiving/privating:

i've been debating to archive the blog since last year. to tell the truth, the new theme that appeared in zhongrin since september last year was actually the theme of a new writing sideblog i made. honestly, i had contemplated archiving it since july ー and i've lost count over how many times i created a 'blog archived' post only to delete it, over and over again. i just held on like an idiot and kept telling myself to just post and dip out.

don't look at the activity bar, it's just going to be full of likes. don't look at the notes, i'll just be full of more empty likes. don't look at the reblogs, it won't have any feedback anyway. don't look into your inbox, you won't find any feedback whatsoever anyway. don't look at your dash, lest you'll see other people getting interactions and start wondering if you're the weirdo for not getting any. don't look. don't look. don't look.

i'm just so tired of being disappointed.

it's like writing out a play and 10k people reserved seats to your free performance, yet all you see are thousands of absent seats. all you receive are silent smiles. a few applauses. and less than ten people commenting on the play, most of which are your own friends.

every time i post, i start questioning why did i even bother sharing this. or if i'm even actually good enough at writing. or if that comment was just there out of pity. or if i should have used the time i spent writing, proofreading, and editing to do something else. something that would have brought more joy. something that would result in more than a few strung words on a digital screen that no one thinks is worth sharing.

every time i post, it just feels like i just did something meaningless. every time i do events or bring my ocs to the spotlight, every time i'm having so much fun, people leave and it gets even more silent. my thoughts? my expectations? my joy? my sadness? meaningless. they're all meaningless to these ten thousand people.

why should i keep sharing and doing something that feels meaningless and hopeless?

so i stopped caring and archived. that's all there is to it.

i do have that new writing blog set up. way back since last year. because as much as i loathe the silence, i still love writing. sometimes.

as of today, that blog is still devoid of original posts. i don't know when or if i'll feel comfortable posting my own 'content' again. or maybe i never will. who knows. but if i do, this time, i'm setting things up so i can just be the 'content creator' that readers expect me to be and distance myself from everything.

call me childish. call me jaded. call me a bitch. i don't care. i don't want to try connecting with my readers anymore because tumblr as a community has stopped being a system that can do this. i'm just going to give myself the option of making content and dipping out whenever i want. i'm going to spend my energy having fun with my friends who does care - on a separate, more controlled environment altogether.

this will still be my main since i don't want to bother setting up a new account and re-following people again. but i won't be active here. i foresee i'll be more 'present' in my private blog. for those who does have the url ー please keep it a secret. thanks.

bye, zhongrin. it started out fun. it's a shame it ended on a bitter note. i truly wish it hadn't turned out this way.

signing off once again, meirin.

[i-dared-myself]

ATEEZ x Ninth Member Headcanons

ATEEZ x reader

Slightly NSFW for but not so much so that I’m marking this 18+

Requested by anonymous: OMG YOU TAKE REQUESTS???? YOUR BLOG IS SO PERFECT Ahem- sorry, I got excited !!! Could I please request an ATEEZ 9th member au headcanons??? I've seen the skz one and now you made me want to see the idea with Ateez too!

Ahhh I’m so sorry to people who made requests before this one! I promise I'm still working on those ones, I just got really excited about ATEEZ!!!

•Hongjoon welcomes you to the group with a warm smile. He leads you to meet the others, and you know it will be chaos when you see them.

•You never feel out of place for a moment. They all make you feel welcome, and you try your very best to return that enthusiasm as you settle into the group.

•Your room is off from the others. Sometimes you like it that way, other times you don’t. It really depends.

•You like it on days where San is looking for someone to bother and Seonghwa isn’t around. You son’t like it on the nights that you have terrible dreams thay leave you sobbing into your pillows when you wake.

•When that happens, you push your door open and wander down the dark hallways. Wooyoung is always ready to comfort you, usually by using his body warmth to soothe you to sleep. And he’s not going to say anything if he gets a free cuddle out of it.

•Jongho stays up with you. You don’t mention what happened in the dreams, and he doesn’t press for an answer. Eventually you fall asleep and he doesn’t risk waking you, instead leaving you in his bed.

•Yeosang is always a bit unsure of himself. But then he remembers there’s no cameras around and you need him. So he mutters words of assurance to you and awkwardly pats your back.

•Hongjoon brings you to the kitchen with him. He either makes you a hot chocolate or a tea, depending on your mood. He lets you snuggle up to his side on the couch as you drink it, telling you about his day.

•Seonghwa immediately tugs you into his bed. He covers you in his blankets and coos about how brave you are. Sure it’s a bit ridiculous to be coddled at your age, but you soak up the love regardless.

Yunho listens as you blabber on about whatever it is. You cry into his shoulder as he rubs circles on your back. Eventually you can’t even remember what it is that woke you and doze away in his grasp.

•San groans as you poke him until he wakes up, but is fast to sit up. His brain is too foggy with sleep to really understand what’s happening, but he tosses you over his shoulder before depositing you in your bed and returning back to sleep right there on the floor. It’s the thought that counts, and that helps you.

•Mingi mutters about how he can take your nightmares in a fight, which makes you giggle. He rambles nonsense about how he’s tougher than whatever it is you’re kept up by. He’s silly and makes you laugh when you need it most.

•When your birthday comes around, you barely make it out with your life. You do your live as you were supposed to, and it goes by smoothly. No hiccups or cakes being smushed into faces.

•Then Yeosang calls you into the kitchen, and you’re awestruck by the pile of gifts on the counter, next to the worst cake you’ve ever seen.

•It’s hideous. Your name is scrawled out messily across the top in a colour that absolutely doesn’t match the frosting on the rest of it. There’s a huge crack down the centre, and you’re pretty sure you’re about to cry.

•“I told you it was fucking ugly!” Wooyoung hisses to Yunho, smacking his arm.

•You whisper that you love it, much to their surprise. Hongjoon cuts you a slice before putting it out in front of you. They sing happy birthday to you before you take a bite.

•You’re the only one to eat any of the dessert, because apparently they already ate two entire cakes. They screwed up the others even worse than the one they presented to you and didn’t know how else to discard of the evidence.

•They apologize for not just buying you a cake, and you ban them from ever buying you one. It becomes a yearly tradition for them to bake you one from scratch, and each cake gets better than the last.

•Probably because the first one gives you food poisoning. They apologize numerous times from your hospital bed, but you assure them that you’re fine.

•Your water bottle is covered with stickers. Whenever you travel in the world for a tour, Wooyoung buys you a sticker to remember it. You cry when you lose the bottle, and Hongjoon purchases you a new one.

•The rest of them pitch in to get you a bunch more stickers, until your water bottle is unrecognizable.

•Your room itself was plain when you moved in. The walls were white, the closet was empty, and the curtains were a depressing beige.

•Now, everything is slathered with your favourite colours. Mingi and San help hang the new curtains, while Yeosang and Seonghwa paint the walls. Jongho whines as he pinches his finger putting your new bed together with Hongjoon, and Yunho proudly displays glowing stars on your wall.

•It feels like home in a way you can’t describe, especially when Wooyoung trips and puts a hole in the plaster of your room. Everyone yells at him, and you don’t repair the dent.

•The day Mingi finds a bloody pad in the bathroom garbage is perhaps the most stressful day of your life. Even more so than your auditions and exams.

•He sprints into the living room, waving his arms around. He (thankfully) left it in the bathroom and didn’t touch it. “Someone here is dying!”

Hongjoon jumps to his feet, eyebrows pulling together in concern. He demands to know which member of the group has a deadly disease/alien parasite living inside them.

•You quietly admit it’s your period, and they all freeze. In all their time living with you, it hadn’t occurred to them that you went through cycles. Logically you did, but they never put two and two together.

•Seonghwa (again) coos about what a poor thing you are. You just want to curl up and die as he lifts you onto his lap and announces to the others that you’re so strong and brave.

•To which you tell him you’re not a child and stomp away to your room, slamming the door shut.

•The irony does not escape you.

•They all knock on your door, murmuring about how Seonghwa is an idiot. They promise to make him cook dinner, and anything you desire. Waffles do sound pretty good, so you open your door.

•Seonghwa is shoved closer and says how deeply sorry he is for offending you. San scratches his head and adds that you are so brave and strong.

•They all grown as you slam the door in their faces. They scold him insistently, before Seonghwa and San defend themselves.

•“I’m just saying I would be terrified to find blood coming out of me one day!” San exclaims. Seonghwa murmurs agreement. You peek out of your room hesitantly. He continues, “And having to just go on with your normal life? Yikes.”

•So you forgive them. The waffles you eat that night are fluffy and delicious.

•It’s well-known that ATEEZ is… freaky. They’re wholesome and sweet, but they’re a bunch of nasty freaks (Endearing term). You were shocked the first time Mingi used a microphone as a pretend-dick and jerked it off. That first time San kissed Wooyoung on the lips? You were horrified.

•You’ve grown used to it. You don’t even bat an eye when Jongho thrusts into the air. You’re not quite up to their level, but your face doesn’t heat up at their lewd actions, anymore.

•Although you do get flustered when they drag you into it. You cover your eyes with your hands as Seonghwa’s eyes roll back from where he’s straddled beneath you. You shriek as Yeosang slaps a hand on the wall next to your head, and nearly pass out when Hongjoon’s fingers curl around your throat.

•All of this is part of skits (You’re fairly certain of this, at least) and carefully thought out and planned ahead of time. For the days afterwards, you stay off of social media and ignore your mom’s calls.

•The time you nearly drown is a harrowing event. You take a short walk near the site you’re filming a vlog. You promise Yunho you’ll take security with you before you grab a jacket and follow a trail.

•You’re standing at the edge of a river when you realize your personal guard went on a lunch break. You sigh and turn to return to the group, not wanting to be out without protection.

•Then the dirt beneath your heel crumbles as you tumble into the rushing waters. A scream is ripped from your throat as everything is turned upside down and sideways and-

•You’re pulled onto the riverbank and gasp for air. Your eyes struggle to open, and you hear the panicked cries of the other members.

•“Who’s giving her mouth to mouth?” Yeosang shouts. The others fall into an eerie silence as you try and gather the words to tell them to back the fuck off.

•You manage to peel your eyes open, just in time to prevent San’s mouth from lowering to yours. You push him away before vomiting to the side.

•Hongjoon refuses to do any other filming that day, and brings you back home. Seonghwa cocoons you in blankets and curls up on the couch next to you. Mingi makes you a warm drink while Wooyoung runs his fingers through your hair.

•Jungho is the one to turn a movie on to distract you from your racing thoughts. Yunho dumps a bag of chips into a bowl and places it in front of you, but you’re arms are wrapped up too tightly for you too eat them.

•So Yeosang is the selfless hero who consumes the snack, telling you about how bad they taste and not to worry. When you point out that he could just feed them to you, he conveniently goes deaf from San yelling in his ear.

•And when you have nightmares that night from almost dying, you know you have plenty of people to go to.

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght

[original-bookshelf]

Time for me to yap about these because we're about to get an updated character sheet for imp! Allan.

Okay, so first, the icon change here.

Allan's icon in the prime universe is very clearly a record, but it is also supposed to resemble a ward as well because two key components of his character are his love of music but also his desire and ability to protect others. The implied shielded portion is pointed to the left as that is implied to be him using his magic to help other people outside of himself.

His icon in the imperium universe is still meant to resemble a ward but you'll notice the crack in it now because his sense of self has been compromised. There's no center to it because as far as he's concerned, he does not have one and the lifeline that music provided for him in the prime universe was not there in the imperium universe. The ward is also pointed to the right as that implies more of a selfish usage of his magic despite him saying that he's doing it for the greater good.

Onto the personality stats!

Okay, so I filled these bits out with Allan's perception of himself. In the prime universe, Allan massively underestimates his intelligence but he's got a pretty accurate view of most of his other traits. He's more comfortable with himself in the prime universe and understands himself better.

In the imperium universe Allan has much less of an understanding of himself and so the personality stats are very inaccurate. The ones rated higher are the ones that he presents towards the world and gain him approval within the pack. In all actuality this man is incredibly loyal as has been demonstrated through his twisted relationship with Pidge, but also his friendship with Maddie. He does not like himself and he is not comfortable with himself either.

The moodboard/appearance section!

So this I had a lot of fun with because in both universes, Allan is very much characterized by what his job is. In the prime universe, it's joy and music and serving others and a lot of that shows up in the moodboard here. He's got color and the drum while being part of his enjoyment of music is also symbolic of the stability he wants to have and be for others.

In the imperium universe, it's been a lot of violence and searching that has characterized him and that reflects quite clearly in the moodboard itself, but there's also imagery of him being tied to somewhere out of a sense of duty as well. Loyalty is going to be a huge part of his arc as we move forward so this was definitely a bit of subtle foreshadowing.

And of course, we cannot forget the name!

We already know that in the imperium universe Allan goes almost exclusively by A or Cambell. This is literally apart of the commentary on dehumanization that has been going on in the background as well as an indicator of his view of himself because he is quite literally trying to diminish people's perception of him down to a member of his family, a tool, and a nonhuman thing. Because it's easier to do his job if he's able to forget that he is human.

In the prime universe, Allan goes by his name and he's made it his own by relating it back to things he enjoys. He still has his family's last name but he doesn't bring it up often and it's left there really as a formality more than anything else.

Tagging: @localpigeon22

[izumkay]

♪BONDS OF FATE♪ |CH-2|

—SUGURU GETO

☆Pairing- SuguruGeto×Fem!Reader (main), SatoruGojo×Reader.

☆Summary- You’ve entered the world of Jujutsu sorcery to protect the innocent, but you didn’t expect the emotional chaos that would follow. Caught between the cocky, irresistible Satoru Gojo and the dangerously calm Suguru Geto, your heart is pulled in two directions. Both men are powerful, both have their own allure, and neither is willing to let you go easily. In a life where curses are real and danger lurks at every corner, the last thing you need is to be tangled up in a love triangle. But here you are—fighting to protect others while your own heart is at war.

Gerne/tags- Love triangle, friends to lovers, rivals to lovers, tension and teasing, angsty, fluff.

Warnings- MDNI. Explicit sexual content, angsty, blood, mention of deaths, hurt/comfort, toxicity, obsession.

Wc- 11k

Previous chapter!

The sun dipped lower in the sky as you sat on the grass, catching your breath. The training session had left you physically drained but strangely exhilarated. Your first taste of what it meant to be a Jujutsu sorcerer was intense, to say the least.

"Well, that was fun," Gojo said, lounging on the ground with his arms behind his head, a cocky grin plastered across his face. "But I feel like I didn’t even break a sweat. You guys keeping up okay?"

You shot him a tired look, not even bothering to respond to his obvious teasing. "Not everyone has infinite cursed energy, you know," you muttered under your breath.

Suguru chuckled softly from his spot nearby. "You’ll get used to him," he said, glancing at Gojo. "Eventually."

Gojo sat up, feigning offense. "Excuse me? I’m the easiest person to get along with. Right, Shoko?"

Shoko, leaning against a tree with a cigarette between her fingers, gave a lazy shrug. "Sure, if you ignore the constant talking and the ego the size of Tokyo."

The banter made you smile despite your exhaustion. For a moment, it felt... normal. Like you weren’t a group of sorcerers training to fight deadly curses but just a bunch of teenagers hanging out.

"Anyway," Suguru said, brushing some grass off his uniform as he stood. "Yaga-sensei said there’s more training tomorrow. Better get some rest while you can."

"More training?" Gojo groaned, throwing himself back onto the grass dramatically. "Man, they really don’t want us to have lives, do they?"

"That’s kind of the point," you said, surprising yourself with the confidence in your voice. "We’re here to learn how to protect people. It’s not supposed to be easy."

Suguru looked at you then, his gaze thoughtful. "You’re serious about this, aren’t you?"

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. "Yeah. I didn’t come here just to mess around."

Gojo raised an eyebrow, sitting up again. "Ooh, looks like someone’s got their priorities straight. Guess we’ll see if you can keep up with me, huh?"

The way he said it wasn’t mocking—well, not entirely. There was a challenge in his tone, one that made you want to prove yourself.

As the sun finally disappeared behind the horizon, the four of you headed back to the dorms. Despite the exhaustion, a spark of excitement buzzed in your chest. You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for the first time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ

The walk back to the dorms was quiet, the kind of silence that settles when exhaustion finally catches up. The moon hung low in the sky, its pale glow lighting your path.

“Man, I hope the beds are decent,” Gojo said, stretching his arms above his head. “If I don’t get my beauty sleep, I can’t promise I’ll be this charming tomorrow.”

“You’re assuming you’re charming now,” Shoko deadpanned, earning a snort from Suguru.

You bit back a laugh, trying to keep your focus on the path ahead. The banter between them was oddly comforting, even if Gojo’s antics made you roll your eyes every other second.

As you reached the dormitory, Yaga-sensei was waiting at the entrance, arms crossed and his usual stern expression in place.

“Lights out in an hour,” he said simply, glancing at each of you. “Get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be harder.”

Harder? You swallowed, feeling a flicker of nervous anticipation.

“Sounds like a challenge,” Gojo said with a smirk, brushing past Yaga as he made his way inside.

“More like a warning,” Suguru muttered under his breath, earning a knowing look from Shoko.

The dorms were surprisingly spacious, each of you assigned your own room. As you stepped inside, the quiet enveloped you, a stark contrast to the lively chaos of the day. Dropping onto the bed, you let out a sigh, muscles aching from the training session.

But your mind wouldn’t rest. The image of Suguru’s calm, precise movements during the fight and Gojo’s effortless display of power replayed in your thoughts. Their strength was undeniable, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you truly measured up.

A soft knock on your door broke your train of thought.

When you opened it, Suguru stood there, his expression unreadable but his presence grounding.

“Just wanted to check in,” he said quietly. “First days can be overwhelming.”

You blinked, surprised by the gesture. “I’m fine,” you said, though your voice was softer than intended.

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Good. Rest up. Tomorrow’s a new day.”

As he walked away, you closed the door, leaning against it for a moment. Your heart felt heavier than before, but not in a bad way—more like something was shifting, though you couldn’t quite name it.

☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ

You changed into your pajamas, the soft fabric a welcome comfort after the long day. Sinking into the bed, you stared at the ceiling, letting out a deep sigh. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, you thought.

Sure, the training had been grueling, and the group dynamic was... chaotic at best. But there was something about this place, about these people, that felt right—like you were meant to be here.

Your thoughts drifted to the others. Shoko’s laid-back humor, Gojo’s over-the-top confidence, and Suguru’s quiet strength. Each of them was so different, yet somehow, it felt like you were all pieces of a puzzle slowly coming together.

A sudden knock at your door jolted you from your thoughts.

"Yeah?" you called out, sitting up.

The door creaked open, and Gojo’s head peeked through, his trademark smirk already in place. "What’s up, newbie? Not crying yourself to sleep, are you?"

You rolled your eyes, already regretting acknowledging him. "What do you want, Gojo?"

He pushed the door open further, stepping inside uninvited. "Just checking in on my future rival. Gotta make sure you’re not giving up before the real fun starts."

"Future rival?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "In your dreams."

He laughed, leaning casually against the wall. "Big talk for someone who was struggling to keep up earlier."

"I wasn’t struggling," you shot back, crossing your arms. "And you’re way too full of yourself."

"Confidence, newbie," he corrected, pointing a finger at you. "You’ll learn it’s one of my best qualities."

Before you could retort, another voice interrupted.

"Gojo, leave her alone."

You both turned to see Suguru standing in the hallway, arms crossed and an exasperated look on his face.

"Come on, Suguru," Gojo said with a grin. "Just having a little fun."

"Yeah, well, maybe try doing that somewhere else," Suguru replied, his tone calm but firm.

Gojo held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I’m going. Don’t miss me too much, newbie." With a wink, he sauntered out, leaving you alone with Suguru.

"Sorry about him," Suguru said, leaning against the doorframe. "He doesn’t know when to stop."

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. "It’s fine. He’s... something, that’s for sure."

Suguru chuckled, the sound low and comforting. "Get some rest. Tomorrow’s another long day."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you to the quiet of your room once more. As you lay back down, your thoughts were no longer on the challenges ahead but on the two very different presences that had just left your room.

Maybe things here were going to be a lot more complicated than you’d thought.

The cool night air wrapped around the two of you, a strange but comforting silence lingering. Suguru leaned back slightly, resting his weight on his hands as he tilted his head up to gaze at the stars.

“You know,” he started, his voice quiet but steady, “being here isn’t just about fighting curses. It’s about finding out what kind of person you want to be. The stronger you get, the harder those choices become.”

You glanced at him, his words catching you off guard. There was a depth to him that you hadn’t fully realized until now. “What kind of person do you want to be?” you asked softly, curious.

He smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth barely lifting. “Someone who can protect what matters to me. No matter what.”

The conviction in his tone made your chest tighten. You didn’t know his full story yet, but there was a quiet strength in him that drew you in.

“What about you?” he asked, turning the question back on you.

You hesitated, unsure how to put your feelings into words. “I... I just want to make a difference,” you said finally. “To make sure no one else has to go through what I did.”

Suguru nodded, his expression thoughtful. “That’s a good reason. Hold onto it.”

The two of you sat in companionable silence again, the stars above seeming to shine brighter as the night stretched on. For a moment, it felt like the world had paused, the weight of your responsibilities and the chaos of the day melting away.

But the moment didn’t last.

A sudden voice broke the stillness. “Aww, look at you two, having a little midnight heart-to-heart.”

You turned sharply to see Gojo leaning against a nearby post, his trademark smirk firmly in place. He looked entirely too pleased with himself, his white hair catching the moonlight like a halo—if halos belonged to devils.

“Do you ever sleep?” Suguru asked dryly, clearly unfazed by his friend’s antics.

“Sleep is for the weak,” Gojo replied dramatically, striding over with an exaggerated yawn. “Besides, I couldn’t miss out on this touching little moment. You two looked so cozy.”

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly stood up. “It’s not what it looks like,” you muttered, flustered.

“Relax, newbie,” Gojo said with a laugh, waving you off. “I’m just messing with you. Mostly.”

Suguru rolled his eyes but stood as well, brushing off his pants. “Ignore him. He lives to be annoying.”

“Hey, it’s called being entertaining,” Gojo shot back, his grin widening. “You’d miss me if I wasn’t around.”

“Doubtful,” Suguru replied smoothly, though there was a faint hint of amusement in his tone.

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at their banter. Despite Gojo’s arrogance, there was something endearing about the way the two of them interacted.

“Well, since we’re all here,” Gojo said, clapping his hands together, “how about a late-night snack? I saw a vending machine near the training grounds.”

Suguru sighed, clearly unimpressed. “It’s past midnight, Satoru.”

“Exactly! The perfect time for snacks,” Gojo insisted, already heading off in the direction of the vending machines.

Suguru glanced at you, his expression torn between exasperation and amusement. “You coming?”

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Why not? It’s not like I was sleeping anyway.”

And just like that, the three of you wandered off into the night, the weight of the day replaced by a strange but comforting sense of camaraderie. For the first time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

You felt like you were walking between two tall pillars—Suguru with his calm, steady presence on one side, and Gojo with his overwhelming, almost blinding energy on the other. The contrast between them was striking, yet somehow, they balanced each other out.

But anyways, you kept your head down, letting their banter wash over you as you all made your way to the vending machines.

“Bet you can’t eat more snacks than me,” Gojo teased, nudging Suguru with his elbow.

“Why would I even want to?” Suguru replied, his tone flat.

“Because losing to me would crush your pride,” Gojo said, his grin mischievous. “And I can’t let you think you’re cooler than me.”

Suguru sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Satoru, you’ve already made it clear no one can compete with your ego.”

You bit back a laugh, the corners of your mouth twitching. “I think I’ll just watch this one from the sidelines.”

“Smart move,” Suguru said, giving you a small smile.

Gojo, however, wasn’t about to let you off the hook. “Oh, come on, newbie. You’re part of the team now! You’ve got to back me up.”

“Back you up on what, exactly?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That I’m clearly the most talented and charming person here,” he said, flashing a grin that could rival the sun.

“Charming isn’t the word I’d use,” you muttered under your breath, earning a soft chuckle from Suguru.

“Hey, I heard that!” Gojo pouted dramatically, clutching his chest like you’d wounded him. “You wound me, truly.”

Finally reaching the vending machines, Gojo immediately began pressing buttons like a child in a candy store, while Suguru stood back, arms crossed, watching the spectacle unfold.

“You’re really not going to stop him, are you?” you asked Suguru, glancing at him.

“No point,” he said with a shrug. “He’ll do what he wants, regardless.”

Gojo turned around, his arms full of snacks, and gave you both a triumphant look. “Midnight feast, courtesy of yours truly!”

You shook your head but couldn’t suppress the smile that crept onto your face. As chaotic as this moment was, it felt oddly... right.

Maybe walking between two tall pillars wasn’t so bad after all.

Suddenly, Gojo pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulder in a casual, almost too familiar way. "Ugh, what are you doing?" you snapped, irritation creeping into your voice as you tried to push him away.

He only grinned wider, the signature smirk never leaving his face. "It’s kinda cold here," he said nonchalantly, his tone teasing. "Just taking some warmth by being closer to you."

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your distance despite the fact that his arm around you was surprisingly... warm. "That’s not how this works, Gojo," you muttered, your annoyance mixing with a strange fluttering feeling you couldn’t quite place.

“Oh, I think it’s exactly how it works,” he said with a wink, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you.

Suguru, who had been silently observing the entire interaction, finally spoke up. "You’re unbelievable," he said, his voice dry. "Do you ever stop?"

Gojo laughed, unfazed. "Why would I? Life’s more fun when you keep people on their toes." He glanced down at you, his eyes gleaming with that ever-present mischievous spark. "Isn’t that right, newbie?"

You let out an exasperated sigh, your face heating up despite your best efforts to stay unaffected. "You’re ridiculous."

Suguru’s eyes flickered between the two of you, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I think Gojo’s found his new favorite target."

You shot him a look, not sure if you were relieved or frustrated that Suguru wasn’t entirely siding with you. "I’m not his target," you muttered, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him—or yourself.

Gojo only chuckled, tightening his hold on your shoulder in a way that made your heart skip. "I’m just warming you up for the next round of training," he said innocently, though his eyes were anything but.

You could already feel your patience wearing thin. This was going to be an interesting year.

You tried to step out of Gojo’s grasp, but his arm stayed firmly around your shoulder. "Gojo, seriously, let go," you said, your voice laced with irritation. "This isn’t funny anymore."

“Oh, I’m not letting go,” he said with a playful glint in his eyes, leaning in closer. “You’re just too cute when you’re all annoyed. Plus, I’m not getting any warmth from Suguru here.” He threw a glance over at Suguru, who was now watching the exchange with an eyebrow raised.

Suguru let out a low chuckle, clearly entertained by the situation. "Well, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not the cuddling type, Gojo," he said, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed.

Gojo feigned disappointment, a hand to his chest. "Oh, the betrayal," he said dramatically. "Here I thought we were best buds, Suguru. But fine, I’ll get my warmth elsewhere." His smirk grew wider as he looked down at you. "And you’re not getting away that easily."

You glared at him, though you couldn't help the slight tug of a smile on your lips. "You’re really something, aren’t you?"

"Flattery will get you nowhere, but keep it coming," Gojo teased, tightening his grip slightly, not letting you escape.

Suguru shook his head in disbelief. "You two are ridiculous," he muttered under his breath, but the amusement was clear in his voice. "I’m surrounded by chaos."

"You love it," Gojo shot back, clearly pleased with himself. "Come on, admit it. You love being around my energy."

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but be drawn into the back-and-forth banter. “Sure, Gojo. If by ‘love’ you mean I’m counting down the minutes until I can escape your ‘energy,’ then yeah, absolutely.”

Suguru’s eyes sparkled with amusement. "I think she’s onto something, Satoru."

"Hey, you’re just jealous because I’m making her laugh,” Gojo said, his voice dripping with playful arrogance.

“Laugh? I’m just trying to keep my sanity,” you shot back, though your lips betrayed you with a small grin.

Suguru gave you a knowing look. “Keep telling yourself that. You’re practically glowing from all the attention.”

Gojo snickered, clearly enjoying the dynamic between the three of you. "She’s not wrong," he said, turning his attention back to you. "Admit it, you secretly enjoy the chaos I bring."

You sighed dramatically, trying to suppress the amusement bubbling up inside you. "Sure, Gojo. Whatever you say. Just don’t expect me to cuddle with you next time, okay?"

“Ah, a shame,” Gojo replied, feigning a hurt expression. “I’ll have to work harder to win you over, huh?”

Suguru’s chuckle broke through your attempts at feigning annoyance. "I’m gonna need a drink after this," he muttered, clearly entertained by the spectacle unfolding.

You couldn’t help but laugh along, the tension between you and Gojo oddly familiar, and maybe, just maybe, a little more than you expected.

"Let’s just get those snacks already," you said, finally pulling away from Gojo’s grasp with a smirk. "I think we’ve all earned it after this."

Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. But don’t think this is over." He winked, walking ahead toward the vending machines.

Suguru smirked at you as he followed. "I’m sure it’s only just begun."

And with that, the night continued with a strange mix of teasing, sarcasm, and unexpected camaraderie. For all the chaos that came with it, you couldn’t help but feel that, maybe, this wasn’t such a bad way to spend your first night at Jujutsu High.

☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ

The morning light filtered softly through the window as you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of your uniform. The cold bath had done wonders, leaving you feeling refreshed and alert, a stark contrast to the restless energy that had kept you up the night before. The lingering thoughts of your conversation with Gojo and Suguru were still fresh in your mind, but you pushed them aside. Today was a new day, and you had to focus.

You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, a deep breath to steady your nerves. Jujutsu High was a place of endless challenges, but you were ready. You’d made it this far, after all. You were a semi-grade 1 sorcerer for a reason.

As you grabbed your bag and made your way to the door, you could hear the faint sounds of students in the hallway, preparing for the day ahead. The air felt charged, like the calm before the storm, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that today would be another unpredictable day.

When you stepped out into the hall, you spotted Suguru, already dressed and looking as calm and composed as ever. He glanced up at you as you approached, giving you a small nod.

“Morning,” you greeted him, your voice steady.

“Morning,” he replied, his voice warm but quiet. There was something comforting about his calm demeanor, especially compared to Gojo’s usual energy.

You couldn’t help but glance around, expecting to see Gojo’s chaotic presence nearby, but he was nowhere in sight.

“He’s probably still asleep, knowing him,” Suguru said, reading your expression. “Don’t worry, he’ll show up, probably late as usual.”

You smirked, unable to suppress a small laugh. “Sounds about right.”

Suguru gave you a rare, amused smile before turning to walk down the hallway. “Let’s go. We’ll see what today has in store for us.”

You followed him, the quiet camaraderie between you two making the journey to the classroom feel a little less daunting. It was clear that Suguru wasn’t just a talented sorcerer—there was something about his presence that made you feel like, maybe, you weren’t alone in this after all.

You loved being around Suguru— shut up.

You tried to push the thought away, focusing instead on his calm, composed presence. It was hard not to feel at ease when he was around. His steady energy seemed to pull you in without even trying, but you quickly reminded yourself that you were here to train, to focus on your path as a sorcerer.

Suguru glanced at you, his voice cutting through your thoughts. “Were you able to sleep last night?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. You hadn’t really talked about your restless night, but there was something in his tone that made you feel like he already knew.

“Not really,” you admitted, a bit of a sigh escaping your lips. “Kept thinking about… everything. Training, meeting everyone here… It’s a lot to take in, you know?”

Suguru nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I get that. Jujutsu High is… intense, especially for first years. But you’ll adjust. You’ve got the skills to make it through. You just need to find your rhythm.”

You couldn’t help but appreciate how genuine he sounded, how calm he was about it all. It made you feel like you weren’t just another student, but someone who belonged here, even if the path ahead seemed uncertain.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, feeling a bit more grounded. “I guess I’m just trying to keep up with all the crazy stuff that happens here.”

Suguru chuckled softly. “Yeah, it can be a lot. But you’re not alone in it. You’ve got us.”

Before you could respond, a loud voice interrupted, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing down the hall.

“Hey, hey, wait up!”

Gojo.

You rolled your eyes, not even surprised by his timing. Suguru, however, just smirked and slowed his pace, clearly not bothered by the disruption.

“Guess I spoke too soon,” you muttered, earning a soft chuckle from Suguru.

Gojo appeared around the corner, grinning widely, his signature carefree attitude in full force. “Did you guys miss me? I know, I know, I’m amazing, but come on, you can’t keep me away forever!”

Suguru shook his head, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. “We weren’t exactly waiting for you, Gojo.”

Gojo waved him off dramatically. “Sure, sure, but I know deep down you were hoping I’d show up to save the day. You’re welcome.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, but deep down, you couldn’t deny that there was something about the dynamic between the three of you that felt… right. Even if it was a little chaotic.

“Let’s just get to class,” you said, trying to steer the group back on track.

Suguru gave you a knowing look, and Gojo, after a few exaggerated stretches, finally agreed. “Fine, fine. But only because you’re so cute when you try to keep us all together.”

You rolled your eyes again, but this time, it wasn’t with irritation. It was with a strange mix of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite place.

As the three of you walked toward the classroom, you couldn’t help but wonder how much more chaotic—yet strangely fulfilling—this year at Jujutsu High would be.

Shoko wasn’t there. You frowned, your eyes scanning the room, half-expecting her to walk in any second. But there was no sign of her.

Gojo flopped down in his seat, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who was supposed to be preparing for class. "She’s probably just late," he said casually, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. "You know how Shoko is. Always on her own schedule."

Suguru sat down beside you, his demeanor as calm as ever. "She’s probably in the infirmary, handling some... urgent matters." His tone was dry, but there was an underlying hint of amusement in his voice.

You raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. "Urgent matters?" you repeated, your tone skeptical.

Gojo snickered. "Let’s just say, when you’re as good at healing as she is, people tend to take advantage of it." He stretched out lazily, leaning back in his chair. "She’ll show up eventually. Just give it time."

You let out a small sigh, leaning back in your own chair, but your thoughts were still lingering on Shoko’s absence. Something about the whole situation felt off, but you pushed the thought aside.

"She better not miss the entire lesson," you muttered under your breath, though you didn’t expect anyone to hear you.

Gojo, of course, heard you perfectly. "Oh, she’ll be here. She always is. Just wait."

Suguru glanced over at you, his expression thoughtful. "Don’t worry about it. Shoko knows how to handle herself. You’ll get used to her unpredictability."

You nodded, though the nagging feeling that something was off remained. It was just the beginning, after all—there was plenty of time for everything to unfold.

For now, you tried to focus on the lesson ahead, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that today was going to be more eventful than you’d anticipated.

You couldn’t help but voice your frustration, your gaze shifting between Gojo and Suguru. "You guys talk like you’ve known each other for years," you said, a hint of annoyance creeping into your tone.

Suguru raised an eyebrow, glancing at Gojo, who was still lounging in his seat as if the whole world owed him something. "Well, we don’t," Suguru replied with a chuckle, "but it’s kind of hard to ignore the connection between us."

Gojo, without missing a beat, smirked. "Yeah, it’s like we’re on the same wavelength. Don’t you just feel it?" He gave a dramatic pause, eyes sparkling mischievously. "We’ve got this... telepathic bond. Don’t you sense it?"

You couldn’t suppress the eye roll that followed. "Oh, please. You two are like magnets. Just because you’ve got some weird, unspoken understanding doesn’t mean you’ve known each other for ages."

Suguru’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "It’s not about the time, it’s about the vibe. We don’t need years to understand each other."

Gojo leaned forward, eyes twinkling. "Exactly! It’s like a superpower, but without the need for training. We’re just that in sync."

You stared at them both, the strange dynamic between them somehow making sense despite your initial skepticism. It wasn’t about how long they’d known each other; it was the ease with which they seemed to communicate, almost as if they were reading each other’s minds.

"You guys are insufferable," you muttered under your breath, but there was no real malice behind the words. You just couldn’t wrap your head around it.

Suguru shrugged, his expression still calm. "You’ll get used to it. Besides, we’re a good team, aren’t we?"

"Eh, if you say so," you replied, still not fully convinced. "But I’m not joining in on this telepathic nonsense."

Gojo grinned at that, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "Ah, you’ll come around. Everyone does."

The tension in the room eased slightly, and despite your annoyance, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of familiarity with them. Maybe it was just the beginning, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that the bond between the three of you was only just starting to form.

You couldn’t help but smile, the sarcastic remark slipping from your lips before you could stop it. "You’d make a good couple," you teased, unable to resist.

The reaction was instant, both of them frowning deeply, as if you’d just suggested the most heinous thing possible.

"Ew, hell nah—! No way, with him? Seriously?" Gojo practically recoiled in his seat, eyes wide in exaggerated disgust. "I’d rather—ugh, just no!"

Suguru, on the other hand, sighed dramatically, his expression completely deadpan. "Shut up— I’m not gay," he said, voice as flat as ever, though you could see the slightest twitch at the corner of his lips.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your seat, enjoying the spectacle. "Oh really? That’s what you’re going with?"

Gojo snorted, shaking his head. "Look, if I was going to date someone, it wouldn’t be him," he said, gesturing at Suguru with an over-the-top sweep of his hand. "I mean, come on. He’s all dark and broody, while I’m out here being... amazing." He threw a dramatic wink your way, completely ignoring Suguru’s glare.

Suguru rolled his eyes, clearly not amused by Gojo’s antics. "If I wanted someone to constantly annoy me, I’d get a pet. Or maybe a mirror, to be honest."

Gojo shot him a playful grin, completely unbothered. "Touché. But seriously, I don’t do monotone. I need someone with a little more... flair."

You leaned in slightly, voice teasing. "So, no love for each other, huh? Guess I’ll have to find someone else to ship you two with."

Gojo’s face twisted into a mock expression of shock. "You can’t be serious. Me and him? That’s like pairing a cloud with a brick."

Suguru, his voice smooth but dripping with sarcasm, replied, "I’d say it’s more like pairing a tornado with a brick. At least the tornado has a bit more... movement."

You snickered at the exchange, but couldn’t resist pushing it a little further. "Well, I’d say you’re both missing out. You’d make such a power couple—can you imagine? Gojo’s flashy style and Suguru’s... brooding intensity? A perfect match."

Gojo's eyes widened in mock horror. "Stop! You’re giving me nightmares. I’m not going to start wearing all black and brooding in corners just to make him happy."

Suguru smirked, clearly enjoying Gojo’s discomfort. "Don’t worry, Gojo. I’m sure no one would force you to start wearing eyeliner. But I’d gladly watch you try."

The two of them bickered back and forth, clearly irritated but in that playful, sarcastic way that only the two of them could pull off. You sat back, grinning to yourself. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all—watching them bicker was entertaining enough to make the entire day worth it.

But, just for fun, you muttered under your breath, "You know, if you two just gave it a chance—"

Gojo shot you a deadly look. "Not happening. Ever."

Suguru’s lips twitched, but he stayed quiet, clearly trying to suppress a smile.

"Yeah, sure," you said, feigning innocence. "I’ll stop pushing it. For now."

You leaned back in your chair, the playful tension hanging in the air, but it was clear that, despite all the sarcasm, something between the three of you was slowly starting to form. It was chaotic, strange, and undeniably fun.

Gojo, still recoiling at the very thought of being paired with Suguru, shot you a pointed look. "Even if I was a girl, I still would NOT date him," he declared dramatically, as if the very suggestion was an insult to his entire existence.

Suguru, ever the picture of calm, shot Gojo a deadpan look. "Well, good thing you’re not a girl then, huh? Or we’d have a whole other set of problems."

Gojo’s face twisted into a playful grimace. "Please, don’t remind me. I’d rather take a vacation to a cursed zone than ever entertain that idea."

You leaned in, playing along. "You sure? You two could make quite the power couple—I can already see the headlines: 'Gojo and Geto: The Unlikely Pair.'"

Gojo's expression shifted from disgust to mock offense. "Are you trying to ruin my reputation here?!" He threw his hands up in exaggerated exasperation. "There’s no way in hell I’d be caught in the same category as him. I mean, look at me!" He struck a pose, his usual cocky grin back in full force. "I’m perfect."

Suguru snorted. "Perfectly insufferable."

You giggled at their banter, enjoying the way they interacted—like a couple of kids who couldn’t quite admit they enjoyed each other’s company, but were too comfortable with each other to stop.

"You two are a real piece of work," you said, shaking your head.

Gojo leaned back, his smirk widening. "What can I say? I’m just that irresistible."

Suguru’s smirk matched his, but his tone was dry as ever. "Keep telling yourself that, Gojo."

The sarcastic back-and-forth continued, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but wonder just how deep this bond between them really went. Maybe they didn’t need to be a couple to be perfectly in sync.

Gojo, always quick to seize the opportunity to stir the pot, leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "How about you ship me with someone else?" he asked, his smirk widening as if he already knew what kind of reaction he’d get.

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. "With who?"

Gojo leaned back, his tone smooth, almost playful. "How about... you?"

You froze for a second, blinking in disbelief. "Eugh! Shut up!" you shot back, recoiling as if the very idea disgusted you. "I do not want anything to do with you!"

Gojo just chuckled, clearly enjoying the reaction he’d provoked. "Aw, come on. You can’t deny the chemistry. I mean, I am a catch." He winked at you, his cocky grin never faltering.

Suguru, who had been silently watching the exchange, sighed deeply, as if this was just another day in the life of dealing with Gojo. "You really are insufferable," he muttered, shaking his head.

You shot Gojo a look that could’ve melted steel. "Not in a million years, Gojo. Get over yourself."

Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, I’ll take the rejection like a champ. But just know... you're missing out."

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. "Please. If you think I’m ever going to be into you, you’re seriously delusional."

Gojo laughed, clearly undeterred. "Delusional, huh? We’ll see about that."

Suguru leaned back in his seat, eyes flicking between you and Gojo with an amused expression. "This is gonna be fun," he muttered under his breath, but you could tell he was enjoying the show, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

Despite yourself, you found the entire situation infuriatingly entertaining. It was like being stuck in the middle of a game you didn’t sign up for—except you had a front-row seat.

As if on cue, the door to the classroom swung open with a sharp creak, cutting through the banter between you, Gojo, and Suguru.

Yaga, the teacher, stepped inside with his usual no-nonsense demeanor. His gaze swept over the room, taking in the group of first years with a knowing glance. His expression was neutral, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he took in the scene—Gojo lounging, Suguru looking slightly bored, and you... well, you were trying to ignore the fact that Gojo had just tried to flirt with you.

"Alright, enough chatter," Yaga said, his voice carrying a commanding tone that immediately silenced the room. "We’ve got work to do."

Gojo groaned dramatically, throwing himself back in his chair. "Aw, come on, Yaga. We were just getting to the good part!"

Yaga’s eyes narrowed slightly. "The 'good part'?" he repeated, his tone dry. "If by 'good part' you mean wasting my time with your nonsense, then sure."

You could practically hear the collective eye-roll from the rest of the room. Yaga had this way of cutting through the bullshit with ease, and it was clear he wasn’t in the mood for Gojo’s antics.

Suguru didn’t even bother looking up, his voice flat as ever. "We’re ready, Yaga. Get on with it."

Yaga shot him a look, but there was no real malice behind it. "Glad to see some of you are already awake," he said with a hint of sarcasm. "Alright, today’s lesson is simple—basic combat drills and a few new techniques. I want to see how well you can work together."

Gojo perked up at the mention of "combat drills," his signature smirk returning. "Now we’re talking!"

You couldn't help but feel a mix of nerves and excitement. This was it—your first real test as a Jujutsu sorcerer. You had to show what you were made of.

Yaga glanced at you, as if sensing the shift in the atmosphere. "Don’t get too cocky," he said, his voice low. "You’ve got a long way to go."

Gojo raised an eyebrow, his smirk still in place. "Don’t worry, Yaga. I’m always ready to show off."

You couldn't help but feel a slight tension building. Whatever was coming next, you knew it was going to push you all to your limits. And, despite the playful teasing and sarcastic remarks, you had a feeling that this team—however dysfunctional—was going to become something you couldn’t easily walk away from.

You raised an eyebrow at Yaga's response, feeling a little skeptical. "Where's Shoko though?" you asked, trying to keep your tone casual but still curious.

Yaga glanced over at you, a small shrug in his posture. "Oh, she told me she wouldn't be able to come today. She’s ill."

Suguru, who had been leaning back in his chair with his usual detached air, frowned slightly. "She was totally fine yesterday though," he said, his voice low but sharp.

Gojo, who had been listening lazily, suddenly perked up at the mention of Shoko. "What, she’s sick? That’s weird. She didn’t look sick yesterday... She was literally acting like she owned the place." He smirked, as if recalling something from yesterday’s training session.

Yaga didn’t seem too bothered by the question, though he gave a slight nod. "She didn’t look sick, but sometimes people need rest. Even healers need a break."

You weren’t entirely convinced. It didn’t sit right with you. Shoko had been fine just yesterday, so why was she suddenly sick today? The timing felt off, but you decided to keep your thoughts to yourself for now.

Suguru, ever the skeptic, didn’t let it slide. "Yeah, well, I hope it’s nothing serious. She’s not the type to just skip out without a good reason."

Yaga’s gaze shifted between the group before he spoke again. "Enough with the chatter. We’ve got work to do. If Shoko’s out, we’ll make do without her. Now, get into position. This training won’t wait."

The class quieted down as Yaga took his place at the front, and the air seemed to thicken with anticipation. Something felt off, but you knew better than to question it further—at least for now.

You shot one last glance at Gojo and Suguru, who were both wearing expressions of mild curiosity, before preparing yourself for whatever Yaga had planned next. Whatever was going on with Shoko, you couldn’t afford to let it distract you. There was a new challenge ahead, and you were determined to face it head-on.

You couldn’t help but frown at the thought of having to deal with them for the rest of the day. Gojo, with his constant smug attitude, and Suguru, who was always so effortlessly calm and distant—it was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place.

You sighed quietly, adjusting your stance as Yaga started to lay out the training session. The whole situation felt like a strange mix of excitement and dread.

"Focus," you reminded yourself silently, shaking off the nagging feeling that had settled in your chest. This wasn’t the time to get distracted by the two guys who seemed to have this unspoken rivalry going on—especially not when you were here to prove yourself.

But still, you couldn’t shake the thought of how annoying it would be to have to deal with them for the entire day. Their banter, their egos, their way of always one-upping each other—it was exhausting just thinking about it.

You glanced over at Suguru, who was already standing up and stretching, completely unaffected by the tension in the air. And then there was Gojo, who was practically bouncing in his seat, eager to get started.

You couldn't help but feel a little... out of place. It wasn’t that you couldn’t hold your own—it was just that these two were on a whole different level.

But no matter how frustrating it might be, you couldn’t let it get to you. You had your own reasons for being here, your own goals to accomplish. And you weren’t about to let anyone—or anything—distract you from that.

So, with a final deep breath, you pushed the irritation aside, steeling yourself for the challenges ahead. No distractions. No drama. Just focus on the training.

You all walked into the training ground, the atmosphere heavy with anticipation. The dirt underfoot crunched as you made your way to the designated spot, where Yaga had already begun setting up the area for the session. The air was thick with tension, a mix of your nervous energy and the quiet confidence of the others.

"Alright, you all know the drill," Yaga called over his shoulder as he prepared the training dummies. "Improve your techniques. Show me what you’ve got."

With that, he turned and walked off, leaving the four of you to your own devices. You exhaled, feeling the weight of the words settle on your shoulders. This wasn’t just about showing off—it was about proving you were capable of handling whatever came your way.

But, of course, Gojo had to break the silence.

As soon as Yaga’s footsteps faded into the distance, Gojo stopped dead in his tracks, stretching his arms above his head and letting out an exaggerated yawn. "So, what now?" he asked, his tone lazy, like he had all the time in the world.

Suguru, already in his stance, didn’t even look up at him. "We train. What else?"

Gojo grinned, completely unfazed by Suguru’s indifference. "Yeah, but that’s no fun. I’m way too good at this," he said, gesturing to the empty space around them as if it were some grand stage. "I’ll just breeze through it while you two... well, you can try to keep up."

You rolled your eyes, feeling the urge to retort. "You’re insufferable," you muttered under your breath, but it didn’t seem to phase him.

Gojo smirked, clearly overhearing you. "You love it," he said, his voice dripping with that cocky charm.

Suguru sighed, his expression never changing. "If you don’t want to train, then leave. The rest of us have work to do."

Gojo didn’t respond right away. Instead, he tapped his chin as if considering Suguru’s words. "Hmm... maybe you’re right. But I’ll have to make it look like I’m working hard. Can’t let you guys get too far ahead."

He shot you a glance, the smirk never leaving his face. "You can try to catch up, too, if you want. But I’m pretty sure I’ll be the first to finish."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You’re really full of yourself, aren’t you?"

"Confidence, sweetheart," he said, winking. "Confidence."

Suguru, clearly fed up with Gojo’s antics, took a few steps away, already beginning his training. You knew Suguru was someone who didn’t waste time with banter. If Gojo was going to mess around, Suguru would just focus on perfecting his technique, and that was exactly what you needed to do.

Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself to begin your own training. You weren’t going to let Gojo’s smug attitude get under your skin. Not today.

The ground was hard beneath your feet, but you steadied yourself, eyes focused ahead. Focus on your technique, you reminded yourself. Don’t let anything distract you.

You threw a quick glance at Suguru, who was already in the zone, and then at Gojo, who was... still standing there, stretching.

With a sigh, you set to work, your body moving fluidly through the forms you had been practicing. But even as you trained, you could feel Gojo’s presence looming behind you, like an ever-present shadow, his smirk still lingering in your mind.

Finally, after what felt like hours of pushing yourself to your limits, the training session came to an end. Your body ached from the intensity, and your mind was buzzing with the adrenaline that still coursed through your veins. You could hear Gojo still messing around in the background, his carefree attitude a sharp contrast to the focus you’d put into your training.

Suguru, however, was already seated on the ground, wiping the sweat from his brow, his movements calm and deliberate, as always. He seemed unaffected by the grueling session, as if he had barely broken a sweat.

You took a deep breath, looking around at the others. Gojo, as expected, was still acting like the world revolved around him, stretching his limbs and grinning as if the training had been nothing more than a light warm-up.

"That was... easy," Gojo said with a smug grin, walking over to where you and Suguru were. "I’m basically untouchable, you know."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the slight irritation that bubbled up. Of course he’d say that.

Suguru just raised an eyebrow, clearly not in the mood for Gojo’s antics. "If you think that was easy, you’re not paying attention," he said, his voice flat but laced with subtle challenge.

Gojo chuckled, his gaze flicking over to Suguru. "Oh, I’m paying attention. Trust me." He gave a mock bow, his playful arrogance on full display. "But hey, if you two want to be serious about it, that’s fine. I’m still gonna beat you."

You sighed, shaking your head. This guy…

"Alright, that’s enough," Yaga’s voice suddenly cut through the banter, drawing everyone’s attention. "You all did well, but you’re still nowhere near where you need to be. You’ve got a long way to go before you’re ready for anything more than basic exercises."

You felt a mix of frustration and determination. It wasn’t like you expected praise, but hearing that you still had a long way to go made you want to push even harder.

Gojo, however, didn’t seem bothered by the critique. "Sure, Yaga, but I’ll be ready for anything. You know I’m the best."

Suguru didn’t respond to Gojo, instead getting to his feet with a fluid grace. "Let’s see if your arrogance can keep up with your abilities," he muttered under his breath, his tone carrying just enough challenge to make Gojo pause.

For a moment, it seemed like the tension between the two was about to snap, but Gojo just smirked. "We’ll see, Suguru. We’ll see."

Yaga shook his head, clearly used to their back-and-forth. "Alright, enough of that. Get back to your rooms and rest. Tomorrow’s another day of training. I expect better results next time."

As the group began to disperse, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. You were getting better, but you also knew there was so much more to learn. And with Gojo and Suguru around, it was going to be a constant challenge to stay on top of your game.

As you walked back to your dorm, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things were only going to get more complicated from here on out.

☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ

You took a deep breath, your mind still buzzing from the day’s training. Gojo’s cocky attitude and Suguru’s cool indifference were still fresh in your thoughts, but you tried to push them aside. Shoko was the one you were concerned about now—she had seemed fine yesterday, so her sudden absence today was a bit odd.

You walked down the hallway to her room, your footsteps echoing softly in the quiet corridor. When you reached her door, you hesitated for a moment before knocking gently.

“Shoko? It’s me,” you called softly, hoping she was just resting and nothing more serious was wrong.

You waited for a few moments, but there was no answer. You knocked again, this time a little louder.

“Shoko?” you called, a slight edge of worry creeping into your voice.

Finally, you heard movement from the other side of the door, followed by the sound of locks clicking open. The door creaked slightly as it opened, revealing Shoko standing there in a loose, comfortable outfit. She looked a little tired, but otherwise fine, though her face seemed a little paler than usual.

“Oh, hey,” she said with a small smile, rubbing her eyes as if she had just woken up. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you knocking.”

You frowned, taking in her appearance. “Are you sure you’re okay? Yaga said you weren’t coming today, but you seemed fine yesterday.”

Shoko sighed, stepping back to let you in. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... didn’t sleep well last night. I’ve been dealing with a headache all day. It’s nothing serious, just need some rest.”

You stepped into her room, looking around. It was fairly simple—just the essentials, with a few personal items scattered about. A couple of books, some medical supplies, and a few snacks by the bedside.

“Don’t worry about me,” Shoko said, as if reading your mind. “I’ll be good as new after a nap. I just need to recharge a little.”

You nodded, still a little unconvinced, but you didn’t want to press her too hard. “Well, if you need anything, just let me know. We’re all in this together, right?”

She smiled faintly. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

As you turned to leave, you hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should say something else. But you decided against it, knowing that Shoko probably just needed some time to rest and recover.

“Get some sleep, okay? You’ll be back to normal in no time,” you said, giving her a reassuring smile before heading for the door.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. See you later,” Shoko called after you.

With that, you left her room, the weight of the day still pressing on you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, but for now, all you could do was let her rest and focus on your own training. There was still so much ahead of you, and you weren’t about to let anything—whether it was Gojo, Suguru, or even Shoko’s illness—get in the way of your path forward.

☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ

After leaving Shoko’s room, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling lingering in your chest. She’d seemed fine yesterday, so why was she suddenly so drained? But you knew you couldn’t dwell on it too much. She’d asked for rest, and you had to respect that.

As you walked back down the hallway, you found yourself wandering aimlessly, unsure of what to do next. The day’s training had left you exhausted, but your mind was still restless. That’s when you saw him.

Suguru was leaning against the wall near the end of the hallway, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, eyes closed as if he were lost in thought. He didn’t notice you approaching at first, and for a moment, you just watched him. There was something about the way he carried himself—calm, collected, and always in control. He was so different from Gojo’s chaotic energy, but somehow, you felt like he understood the balance between focus and relaxation better than anyone.

You hesitated for a moment before walking toward him. “Suguru,” you called softly, not wanting to startle him.

His eyes flickered open, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips when he saw you. “You’re still up?” he asked, his voice low and calm. “I thought everyone would be resting after today.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, shrugging. “Too much on my mind.”

Suguru nodded, pushing off from the wall and straightening his posture. “I know the feeling,” he said. “Training’s exhausting, but it’s the aftermath—the quiet that gets to you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “The quiet?”

He glanced around, as if checking to make sure no one else was nearby. “Yeah. The silence after a tough day can make you think too much. I tend to avoid it by keeping busy.”

You chuckled lightly, feeling a sense of ease around him that you hadn’t expected. Suguru’s presence was different from Gojo’s. Where Gojo was loud and unpredictable, Suguru was a calm center, a grounding force in the chaos.

“I get that,” you said. “But it’s hard to ignore everything. Like… Gojo. He’s always so in-your-face.”

Suguru smirked, a rare flash of amusement crossing his features. “Yeah, Gojo’s got a way of making everything about him. But that’s just how he is. It’s exhausting to keep up with sometimes.”

You nodded in agreement, then let out a soft sigh. “Sometimes I wonder how I ended up here. This whole world of curses and power... It’s so much to take in.”

Suguru’s gaze softened, and he took a small step closer, his presence suddenly more reassuring. “It’s not easy,” he said quietly. “But you’re here because you’re strong. You’ve made it this far, and that means something. We all have our doubts, but it’s how we handle them that counts.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his words. Suguru had always been a little distant, but there was something about this moment that felt different—more personal. You could see that he understood what you were going through, even if he didn’t show it outwardly.

“Thanks,” you said softly, feeling a small weight lift off your shoulders. “I needed to hear that.”

Suguru gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Anytime,” he replied, his tone gentle but firm.

For a moment, there was silence between you two. It wasn’t uncomfortable—just peaceful, the kind of silence that felt natural rather than forced. You couldn’t help but feel a little closer to him now. There was something comforting about the way he was always there, in the background, watching, waiting—yet always offering his quiet support when you needed it most.

“So,” Suguru spoke again, breaking the silence, “what do you usually do to relax? I know we’re all training, but everyone needs a break sometimes.”

You thought for a moment. “I don’t know... I guess I usually read or just go for a walk. Something quiet.”

Suguru’s eyes glinted with interest. “I get that. Sometimes, I go to the roof just to get some space. The view is calming, and it helps me clear my head.”

You smiled. “Maybe I’ll join you sometime.”

Suguru looked at you, a slight smile playing on his lips. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

As you both stood there, talking about the little things that helped you unwind, you felt an unexpected connection forming between you and Suguru. It was subtle, but it was there—a sense of mutual understanding, of being able to share something beyond just the surface-level interactions you’d had so far. You didn’t know where this would lead, but for now, it was enough to just be in the moment, enjoying the quiet and the calm that Suguru brought with him.

The night was still young, and for the first time in a while, you felt like you were exactly where you needed to be.

The night stretched on, but it felt like time had slowed in Suguru’s company. The usual tension and restlessness you felt after training seemed to fade away as the two of you continued talking, exchanging thoughts and ideas. Suguru wasn’t like the others. He didn’t bombard you with energy or sarcasm, but his presence was steady and reassuring.

As the conversation meandered from casual topics to deeper ones, you found yourself opening up in ways you hadn’t expected. Suguru listened without interruption, his focus unwavering, his gaze always soft and understanding. There was something about him that made you feel safe—like you could trust him with your thoughts, your worries, and even your doubts about the future.

“I’ve been wondering,” you began, your voice quieter now, “how do you stay so calm all the time? I mean, I know you’re strong, but... there’s this peacefulness about you. It’s like you’re never really rattled by anything.”

Suguru looked at you, his eyes thoughtful, as if he were considering your question carefully. “I guess it’s a combination of things. I’ve learned to accept the chaos around me. People like Gojo—he thrives on it, but me? I find it draining. So, I try to create my own space, my own balance.”

You nodded, intrigued by his answer. “That makes sense. It’s like you’re in control of yourself, no matter what’s going on around you.”

Suguru smiled, the expression genuine and warm. “Exactly. It’s not about controlling everything—it’s about knowing how to navigate it.”

You felt a sudden sense of admiration for him. There was something about his calmness, his ability to stay grounded in such a chaotic world, that drew you in. It wasn’t just his power or his technique—it was the way he carried himself, the way he seemed to understand things on a deeper level.

“I wish I could be more like that,” you admitted, glancing down at your hands. “I get caught up in everything. The pressure, the expectations... it’s hard to find my center.”

Suguru’s expression softened, and he took a step closer to you. “You don’t have to be like anyone else. You just need to find what works for you. You’re already on the right path by being here, by doing what you do. You’ve got strength, even if you don’t always see it.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. There was a sincerity in his voice, a depth that made you believe in what he was saying. It wasn’t just empty encouragement—it felt real, like he truly believed in you.

“Thanks, Suguru,” you said quietly, looking up at him again. “I... I really appreciate it.”

Suguru gave a small nod, his smile softening. “Anytime. That’s what friends are for.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at the word “friends.” It wasn’t something you had expected to hear from him, especially after only knowing him for a short time. But somehow, in that moment, it felt right. You were starting to understand him better, and you realized that this connection between you wasn’t just about training or being at Jujutsu High—it was something more.

For the first time in a while, you felt a sense of belonging. Suguru had always been this enigmatic figure, distant and hard to read, but now, standing in front of you, he seemed... closer.

“Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime,” you suggested, breaking the momentary silence. “You know, when things aren’t so hectic. I’d like to get to know you better.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Coffee, huh? I’m not sure I’m the type to sit in a café, but... I wouldn’t mind.”

You both shared a quiet laugh, the tension of the day easing away. It felt natural, easy, like you’d been friends for much longer than just a few days.

“Alright, then,” you said, grinning. “We’ll figure it out. No rush.”

Suguru nodded, his gaze thoughtful once more. “No rush at all.”

As you stood there, talking about nothing and everything, you realized that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something special. Whether it was friendship or something more, you didn’t know yet—but for now, you were content with where things were.

The night grew later, and the sounds of the academy faded into the background. It was just you and Suguru now, two people who had somehow found a quiet space amidst the chaos of the world around them.

You stood there for a moment, the silence between you and Suguru stretching longer than you intended. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn’t shake the awkwardness that suddenly flooded in. It felt like the words had slipped out of their own accord, and now that they were out, you regretted them immediately.

"You're so much better than that Gojo... I like you—" Your voice faltered, and you realized what you had just said. You froze, eyes wide, panic rushing through you. "I mean—! I mean, as a friend!" You stammered, your face flushing bright red. You cursed yourself under your breath. Great. Smooth move, genius.

You tried to salvage the situation, but it felt like the more you spoke, the worse it got. Your hands instinctively tugged at the sleeves of your uniform, avoiding Suguru’s gaze.

But when you finally dared to look at him, you saw something that made your heart skip a beat. His face was flushed, just a little, his usual calm expression slightly softened. For a brief moment, he seemed just as caught off guard as you.

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips. It wasn’t mocking or teasing, but something more... understanding. He tilted his head slightly, as if weighing his words before speaking. "I see," he said softly, his voice gentle. There was no hint of discomfort or awkwardness in his tone, just a quiet acknowledgment.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed all over again, your heart racing as you waited for him to respond. The silence between you two felt heavier now, but in a strangely comforting way.

Suguru’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, it felt like everything around you faded. "You’re not so bad yourself," he said, his voice low and calm, though you could sense a trace of warmth in it. "I’m glad we’re friends."

The way he said it made you feel a little lighter, as if the weight of your slip-up wasn’t so heavy anymore. His words were kind, and despite the awkwardness, you could tell he wasn’t judging you.

Your face remained flushed, but now, it wasn’t from embarrassment—it was from something else. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, or the way his words made you feel like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind your blunder after all. You felt a soft warmth spread through you, and for the first time that night, you relaxed.

"I guess I really did make things awkward, huh?" you said, letting out a small, nervous laugh. You felt a little lighter, despite the lingering redness in your cheeks. "Sorry about that."

Suguru chuckled softly, his eyes still on you. "It’s fine," he replied, his smile widening just slightly. "It’s just... unexpected, that’s all."

You both stood there, sharing an unspoken understanding, the air between you now comfortable again. Even if your words had come out wrong, Suguru didn’t seem bothered in the least. And somehow, that made everything feel a little easier.

"I guess I’m lucky, huh?" you said, the teasing note in your voice returning, as if to cover up the vulnerability you had just shown. "Not many people get to have a conversation like this with you."

Suguru raised an eyebrow, a playful glint flickering in his eyes. "Careful," he warned with a smirk. "You might make me think you actually like me."

You shot him a look, your heart still fluttering from the previous moment. "Oh, please," you said with a light laugh. "I already told you. Just as a friend."

Suguru chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Of course. Just as a friend."

The two of you shared a look, the kind that made the world around you feel just a little smaller, just a little more intimate. And for a brief moment, you both knew—whatever had just happened, however awkward or vulnerable it had felt, was just the beginning of something real. Something that didn’t need to be rushed or defined.

It was enough for now to just be here, together, in this quiet space.

Your heart pounded in your chest, every beat feeling louder than the last. You hadn’t realized how close you had gotten to Suguru until you suddenly became acutely aware of the warmth radiating from him. The space between you felt smaller, almost nonexistent, and your body reacted instinctively—your pulse quickening, your breath slightly hitching.

You tried to steady yourself, but it was hard to ignore the proximity. The air between you felt thick, charged, and for a moment, it was as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you in that quiet room. You could feel the warmth of his presence beside you, like an unspoken comfort, and yet it made your thoughts scatter, as if you were losing your grasp on control.

Suguru, on the other hand, seemed perfectly calm, his expression unreadable, but there was a subtle shift in the way he looked at you. His eyes were softer now, no longer just the focused intensity of a fellow sorcerer, but something else—something deeper, warmer.

"Are you okay?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, and it sent a shiver down your spine. His gaze never wavered, and there was something in the way he asked, something genuine that made your heart flutter even more.

You opened your mouth to respond, but for a moment, no words came out. You felt a little dizzy, not from any physical discomfort, but from the overwhelming closeness. You could almost feel his breath, the subtle movement of his chest as he exhaled. It was as if everything else faded away, and the two of you were the only ones left in the world.

Finally, you managed a quiet response, your voice betraying the nervousness you were trying so hard to mask. "I... I think so." Your words felt thin, but you couldn’t quite gather the strength to pull yourself back. Not when everything about this moment felt so... electric.

Suguru took a small step closer, almost imperceptible, but enough to make you feel his presence even more acutely. You didn’t back away, even though you felt your face heat up again. There was something comforting about the way he didn’t push, didn’t rush you, as if he was giving you the space to breathe but also subtly inviting you to lean into this moment with him.

"You don’t have to be nervous," he said, his voice almost teasing, but there was a softness to it that made it hard to take it as anything other than reassuring. "I’m not going anywhere."

His words were simple, but they hit you in a way you didn’t expect. It wasn’t just the promise of his company—it was the way he said it, like he truly meant it. Like he wasn’t going to leave you alone in your own uncertainty. You could feel the sincerity in his voice, and for some reason, that made your heart flutter even more.

"Okay," you managed, the word coming out quieter than you intended. You didn’t even know why you were nervous anymore—maybe it was because Suguru was the kind of person who had a way of making you feel seen, in ways you weren’t used to.

Suguru's lips curled into a soft smile, the kind that made your heart skip a beat. "Good."

And just like that, the tension eased, even if you still felt the flutter in your chest. It wasn’t awkward anymore—it was just... natural. And in that moment, surrounded by nothing but the quiet hum of the night, you felt like you could stay there forever, standing next to Suguru, the space between you still close but not uncomfortable.

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you needed to be.

You couldn’t help but let out a small sigh, the frustration of the moment bubbling up inside you. "Why are you always so calm? It's... it's kind of annoying sometimes," you muttered, not realizing how vulnerable you sounded until the words left your lips. You tried to hide your embarrassment, but the flush on your cheeks gave you away, and you immediately wished you could take it back.

Suguru chuckled softly, his gaze softening as he looked at you. There was no teasing, no judgment in his expression—just a quiet understanding that made your heart skip.

"One has to be sane when other go crazy, you know?" he said, his voice smooth and steady, like a calming presence in the midst of your swirling thoughts. His smile was gentle, almost reassuring, as if he was saying, It’s okay. You don’t have to be perfect.

The words hit you in a way you weren’t prepared for. You blinked, suddenly aware of how much weight his simple response carried. You didn’t know whether it was his steady composure or the way he said it with such sincerity, but it made you feel like, in this chaotic world, he was someone who would always keep you grounded.

You let out a quiet breath, feeling the tension melt away just a little. "I guess I should learn from you, huh?" you said, trying to lighten the mood, but there was a softness to your voice now, a sense of vulnerability you couldn’t hide.

Suguru gave you a knowing look, that same smile still lingering on his lips. "You don’t need to be like me," he said. "Just be yourself."

It was simple, yet it meant so much more than words could convey. And in that moment, you realized—being around Suguru didn’t just make you feel calm; it made you feel seen. Not in the way Gojo did, with his teasing and antics, but in a way that felt real. Honest. It was like Suguru had this ability to pull you out of your own head, to make you feel like maybe, just maybe, it was okay to let your guard down.

You felt a quiet smile tug at the corners of your lips. "Thanks," you said, your voice softer now, more genuine.

Suguru’s smile grew a little, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that made your heart flutter. "Anytime."

You stood there for a moment, the space between you feeling lighter now, like the air had shifted. Suguru’s calm presence seemed to fill the room, and you couldn’t help but notice how easy it was to talk to him. It wasn’t like you had to put on a mask, or pretend to be someone you weren’t. With him, you felt like you could just... be. And that was rare.

After a beat of silence, Suguru glanced toward the window, his expression softening as he looked out into the distance. "It’s nice," he said, his tone casual but with an underlying sincerity. "Sometimes it’s good to just take a moment, you know? The world’s always moving so fast... but moments like this, when things slow down, they’re worth cherishing."

You followed his gaze, your mind drifting as you thought about what he said. There was something about his words that made you feel at ease, like the chaos around you wasn’t as important as the little things.

"Yeah," you murmured, "I guess I don’t always appreciate those moments. Always too caught up in everything else."

Suguru’s eyes met yours again, his gaze steady and reassuring. "It’s easy to forget," he said softly, "but sometimes, you just need to pause and take a breath."

His words were simple, yet they felt profound, like a gentle reminder that it was okay to step back and take a moment for yourself. You felt something stir inside you, a quiet warmth that had nothing to do with the room’s temperature and everything to do with the person standing in front of you.

You shifted slightly, your hands fidgeting nervously at your sides. "I guess I’m still learning how to do that," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Suguru smiled again, that same calm, reassuring smile that made your heart skip. "It takes time," he said. "But I think you’re getting there."

You could feel the sincerity in his words, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were in the right place. Suguru’s presence was grounding, like a calm center in a world that often felt like it was spinning too fast. You weren’t sure when exactly it had happened, but you realized then that you had started to trust him—more than you had expected.

There was something about the way he made you feel, something that made everything feel a little easier, a little more bearable.

"Thanks," you said again, the words slipping out without thinking, but this time, they felt even more genuine. "For everything."

Suguru didn’t respond right away, but you saw the way his eyes softened, the way his smile deepened just a fraction. It was like he understood, without you having to explain.

"You don’t need to thank me," he said quietly, his voice low and comforting. "It’s what friends do."

Your heart fluttered at the word—friends. You hadn’t realized until now how much you valued that simple connection, that bond between you two that felt like it had been built slowly, without either of you forcing it.

You nodded, feeling the warmth spread across your chest again. "Yeah... I guess it is."

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, the quiet comfortable, the space between you not awkward, but filled with an understanding that didn’t need words. And in that moment, you knew that no matter what happened next, this bond, this connection with Suguru, was something you wanted to hold onto.

"Let’s get some rest," Suguru said finally, breaking the silence. "Tomorrow’s another day, right?"

You smiled, the tension of the past few hours fading completely. "Yeah, tomorrow."

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were ready to face whatever came next.

Suguru gave you a soft smile, his eyes warm with that same calmness that always seemed to settle you. "Good night," he replied, his voice steady and comforting.

You turned toward the door, the quiet of the night settling around you, but there was something different now. Something in the air, in the way you felt. Maybe it was the way Suguru had made everything feel so much lighter, or maybe it was the realization that, for once, you didn’t feel alone in this world full of curses and chaos.

You gave him one last glance before stepping out of the room, your heart still racing a little. "Sleep well, Suguru," you called out softly.

He didn’t say anything more, but the way his eyes lingered on you for just a moment told you everything you needed to know. The night was quiet, but for the first time, you felt like it was exactly what you needed.

☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ

You laid back on your bed, staring up at the ceiling, your thoughts racing in every direction. The images of Suguru flooded your mind—his calm presence, the way he smiled at you, the warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter. You felt your face flush, and you quickly shook your head as if trying to shake off the thoughts.

"No," you whispered to yourself, rolling over to face the wall. "This isn’t happening. You’re just... you’re just getting close to him as a friend, right?"

But deep down, you couldn’t deny the tug in your chest, the way your thoughts always seemed to wander back to him. You groaned, pulling the covers over your head in an attempt to block it all out.

"Why is this so confusing?" you muttered, wishing you could just fall asleep and forget about everything for a while.

But as the night wore on, sleep didn’t come easily. The image of Suguru lingered in your mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder if, just maybe, this connection between you two was something more than just friendship.

The hours seemed to stretch on, each tick of the clock feeling louder in the silence of your room. You tossed and turned, your thoughts tangled in the web of confusion that Suguru had woven into your mind. You tried to push it away, tried to force your mind to focus on something else, but it was impossible.

His soft smile. His calm, steady voice. The way he had looked at you, as if nothing else in the world mattered except the moment you were sharing.

"Why am I thinking about this so much?" you muttered, clutching your pillow tighter as if that would somehow keep the thoughts at bay. But the more you tried to suppress them, the more they grew, swirling around you like a storm you couldn’t control.

You had never felt this way before—not about anyone. And it terrified you. You had always been so careful, so focused on your goal of becoming a strong sorcerer, of protecting people. But now, with Suguru, it was different. It felt like something was shifting inside you, something that wasn’t easy to ignore.

You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling, your mind racing.

Did he feel the same way?

You thought about his words, his actions—how calm and steady he always seemed, even in the face of chaos. He had been there for you when you needed someone to talk to, someone to lean on. But was it more than that? Or were you just overthinking things?

Your heart fluttered again, and you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

"This is ridiculous," you whispered to yourself. "I barely even know him, and now I’m already..."

But before you could finish the thought, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You grabbed it quickly, relieved for the distraction, hoping it was something to take your mind off of everything.

It was a message from Suguru.

"Good night. I hope you get some rest. Don’t stay up too late thinking, alright?"

You stared at the message for a moment, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. His words were so... Suguru. Calm. Thoughtful. Caring.

Is he really thinking about me?

You shook your head, trying to focus, but it was hard when your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest.

You typed a quick reply, your fingers hesitant as you tried to keep your emotions in check.

"Thanks. I’ll try to sleep."

You hit send, then placed the phone back on the nightstand, lying down again. But this time, it wasn’t as easy to quiet your thoughts. Suguru’s message lingered in your mind, and you realized something.

Maybe it wasn’t just a friendship. Maybe... it was something more.

The thought made your heart race again, but this time, you didn’t try to push it away. Instead, you let it settle, feeling the warmth spread through you as you drifted into a restless sleep, knowing that tomorrow would bring more uncertainty, more moments with Suguru that would only make it harder to ignore what was slowly growing between you two.

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A/n- I hope you like this chapter, I tried to make this long, and yess two chapters in a day😭 I'm going on study hiatus that's why, anyways, feel free to drop your thoughts!♡