#were all like youre the straight friend or just youre the only straight i like

[lovieku]

MOTHERFUCKIN’ TRAIN WRECK! ⋆ 정국

𐙚 if you were my boyfriend… and you were my girlfriend…

when renowned fuckboy jeon jeongguk catches feelings, he loses his mind. only when it comes to you, though.

based on this ask

from the grande series ୨ৎ

pairing: fuckboy!jk x fem!reader

genre: fwb au

warnings: small smutty moments (cunnilingus, fingering, tiny boob play), angst, fluffi maybe idk, whipped and jelly koo, ft. namjoon!!!, oblivious oc, deep down she feels it too but jk is simply too much of a simp so it doesn’t look like it at first, he’s also so petty and sassy, jokes about ending it if oc doesn’t give him a chance </3, he’s just a little shit, peep the lyrics from boyfriend hehe, oh btw happy ending!!!

word count: 18k

a/n: wowww i’m so sorry for this pile of nonsense, it’s so bad i vomited a little in my mouth. i hate every single thing about it but i didn’t wanna leave you guys starved. i love u sm and thank u for the support, but u’re allowed to leave hate asks for what u’re about to read rn ❤️ also i’m SO SORRY for being unable to write a jungkook who isn’t a simp

🏷️ perm taglist: @ceellliiinee @jaytheatiny @dolligguk @luvismenu @theyloveyams @stillwjk-channie-lixie @bookstoread199 @girlygguk @vieviela @myngiii @angelxkoo @nnybtitts08 @mpbrinkss @https-mei @lyywst @mhdelu @apobangpogirlyyy @khadeeeeej @awrkive

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Jeongguk was only supposed to clean you up. That’s what he calls it when his angelic face finds its place between your spread legs, sinful eyes locking with yours, paired with a smirk you can hardly ever survive.

After all, he’s a man of simple devices. Why bother fetching a towel when he can use his own mouth? When he can let his tongue lap at your juices, slurp every last trace, have an excuse to taste you again, and again, and again?

It’s barely even effective as a way to clean you up, of drying the slick mess that sticks to your inner thighs from cumming three times under his merciless doings— you both know that. Then, how does he expect you not to break a fourth when he runs his wet muscle so torturously along your slit, getting ever more soaked?

Jeongguk is not really trying to end the night. He’s drawing it out. He already had you unraveling in phases— first on his fingers, then all over his cupid lips, ending with you convulsating just another time around his thick length.

It was rough, left purplish marks of his harsh hold digging into your sides, a faint trace of a forbidden hickey just under your collarbones, where you can easily hide it.

In all fairness, he couldn’t help it.

It was you who provoked him. You always do, getting under his skin, teasing him about his skills, downgrading them with playful indifference and nothing more than a meh, as Jeongguk rasps in your ear, clearly affected by your session of foreplay when asking, “Does this make you feel good?”

You’ll be sent straight to hell for lying like that, with seemingly no remorse, but you’re unable to resist the dangerous game and the familiar thrill that comes from it. Nothing compares to the dark wave that takes over his hooded eyes, his motions ever more intentional, almost overwhelming.

He moves to prove something to you, to show you there’s no one quite like him, even with all the guys in your phone, on your lips, inside your sheets.

Jeongguk is your fuckbuddy, and your friend on top of the rest. So, when he first laid his lips on yours, the bottom line plumper than his cupid’s bow, it had taken a great amount of alcohol to flow through both of your veins and blur the lines, let instinct take over.

From there, it was like you couldn’t help yourselves; the physical attraction was undeniable, it’s what brought you here in between the mess of his bed. If you ignore the silly crush you had on him during the first year of college, this was perfect.

Your fuckbuddy contract (Jeongguk hates calling you that, he prefers my friend who makes me cum a lot) includes a heavy emphasis on a no-strings-attached relationship, that can be interrupted whenever one of the two feels uncomfortable, and that should not come before your friendship. On top of all, you both are not exclusive. No commitment, no jealousy. You’re perfectly free of meeting other people, fucking other people. Unless you’re going to date one of those, of course. Then, bye-bye friend who makes me cum a lot.

These rules were established almost a year ago, after your hands couldn’t help themselves from roaming hastily all over his body, pulling him impossibly closer. It was the second time you allowed yourself to feel him, following the night when he initiated things under the clouded lights of a club.

You couldn’t help it. You had been thinking of that moment for weeks now, and when you were left alone with him in his dorm room, pulse racing, it’s all your thoughts were reduced to. Kiss him, kiss him, fuck him.

You felt guilty. A friend shouldn’t be thinking of another friend like you were about Jeongguk. Especially after you promised yourself you wouldn’t let your buried crush resurface and ruin what you had built— even if the memory of that infatuation is honestly just laughable now (you would never think of dating him, pft).

But Jeongguk, ever the gentlest when it comes to you, assured you it was okay to feel as you did, because he felt it too. And was dying to touch you again. His words, not yours.

It’s only sexual. A casual, sexual relationship. Two friends who happen to find each other irresistible.

So when he reacts with a flash of competitiveness at the mere suggestion he might not be the best you’ve ever had, it’s… weird, the feeling that overcomes you. You acknowledge it for a split second, as if you’re searching to name that something inside you stirring, but before you can, it seems to make you fall apart immediately, your grip tighter, back arched, moans high-pitched.

He basks in his silent victory, in the factual demonstration that he in fact can’t be compared to all your other guys.

Except, there’s actually no other guys.

Back when this friends-with-benefits arrangement first started, you were occasionally fooling around with an older guy from campus named Mingyu. Jeongguk knew him, given that they’re in the same photography class. He was also aware of your casual fling with him. And yet, Jeongguk still kissed you. Actually, did so much more than just that.

Either way, the line has always been clear: he has no right to question who you spend time with and what you engage in, Jeongguk isn’t a saint either.

You love him, you truly do. With time, he has become one of your closest friends, and you honestly can’t see yourself getting through college without him.

But there’s no denying the fuckboy allegations, the ones that are constantly thrown at him all around campus. He is a fuckboy. It must be his easy charm, flirting as natural as breathing, tripping out his tongue with seemingly not much thought. At some point, the majority of the girls in your campus got to have their moment with Jeongguk, either because of mindless teasing or one night stands, occasionally turning into casual arrangements.

You have accepted it as part of who he is. You know his fuckboy habits haven’t magically changed when you two started fucking. He doesn’t really spend much time talking about it with you, occasionally mentioning his doings every now and then, but you don’t need to know; his friends and the people whispering in hallways and lecture halls fill in the blanks.

That is exactly why you’ve let Jeongguk believe that your sexual life is equally as busy, floods of boys from your inbox to your sheets, as if you aren’t too much of a hopeless romantic to even think of anything that isn’t exclusively monogamous.

But this isn’t the case. Jeongguk isn’t yours, you aren’t his. It’s just about sex, and you’ve accepted that. You don’t want anything more from him. You tell yourself the only reason you’re not seeing anyone else is that the idea of it makes you uneasy. That you’re more than satisfied with Jeongguk being your friend-turned-into-fuckbuddy, and you don’t need other ones.

Jeongguk is more than enough. Oh, he is.

“Fuck, Gguk. You’re gonna make me cum— Ah, shit— again.”

Your head is thrown back in his pillow, legs weakly tightening around his head nestled so close to your core, and it’s clear his goal has completely shifted from getting you clean and neat when the tip of his tongue moves to flicker on your sensitive nub, relentlessly abusing it with casual kissing and sucking.

He opens his mouth to take more of you, his wet muscle tracing your slit and teasing your entrance for— sadly —the shortest second, and the way he hums approvingly against you brings you even closer to the breaking point.

You’re a fragile mess, overstimulated from the previous orgasms but desperate to chase yet another climax, his hands roaming up to find your breast only spurring you further.

Jeongguk knows you by now, and is aware of all the subtle gestures that make you come undone under him. He knows just what to do to push you over the edge, and when to do it exactly.

You’re a sucker for dirty talk and praise, and occasionally, when the ideal situation comes, you love being degraded. It’s a side of you that only ever arises during sex, mind hazed and irrational, the delirious need for release clouding all your usually composed senses.

At first, he teased you for it. Not because he’s not as much of a fan as you are of talking during sex, but because he never pictured you to be the loud type. And you truly are.

Jeongguk pinches your nipples in hopes of you getting the message and lowering your volume, but it only makes you whine higher, your moans surely not going unnoticed by the other students in the dorm.

It can only be worse when he decides to speak against you, his voice a low, almost unintelligible growl, “Pussy’s so fuckin’ good. All mine, fuck. Want to taste your cum once again, c’mon babe. Give it to me.”

And you, always obliging and well-behaved, let go for a fourth time, hips furiously rutting against his face, his words making your surroundings spin, the way his nose would brush your sensitive nub having your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Your gasp is strained when he retreats with one last wet stripe between your puffy lips, sealing the orgasm with a kiss on your clit, and when he finds your face again there’s a cockish grin spreading across his, chin coated with your juices.

He immediately meets your mouth then, sharing your own taste, and you both moan shamelessly at the action.

Jeongguk collapses next to you, his body warm and relaxed, pulling you closer by your waist and almost making you straddle him with the force of his hold. He sighs into your hair, kissing the root of it, “You did amazing for me, pretty girl.”

A pleasant shiver runs down your spine at the praise and the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. It’s ridiculous.

With your cheek pressed against his chest, you glance up at him through your lashes and a lazy smile threatens to take over your face, but your playful pout is more prominent, almost convincing, “I’m never letting you do that trick on me again. Next time, I’m just going to take a shower like a normal person.”

The laugh he lets out is rich and unguarded, his chest rumbling under your ear, and it makes you pull away with a mock glare, brows knitted together as you swat at his toned stomach, “Don’t laugh. I hated that.”

His dark eyes soften as they dance with amusement, the corners crinkling, and he hums, going along with your blatant lie from the way your lips struggle to contain a grin, “Oh, absolutely. You were screaming in horror, couldn’t stand it.”

“Whatever,” you mutter incoherently, standing up to escape from the inevitable loss. The slick between your thighs reminds you of why you need that shower in the first place, causing you to awkwardly wobble your way to his bathroom.

Jeongguk watches you with a lopsided smirk, stretched out on the bed, his brown hair a messy halo on the pillow, and it completes the concept he goes perfectly with, the one of a devil dressed up as an angel, even more when his voice drips with faux desperation, “Hey, come back. I need my cuddles.”

“You’ll live,” you toss back before pulling the door shut behind you and stepping into the warm embrace of the shower. The hot water stings at first, then soothes you, sliding down your skin.

Jeongguk already knows the outcome of what he’s about to do isn’t going to turn in his favor, but he tries his luck regardless, standing up hastily and limply making his way to his bathroom door.

He only knocks twice, then puts on his best begging voice, talking loud enough to be heard over the shower, “Toots?”

“No!”

A scoff filters through the steamy air, followed by the unmistakable creak of the door handle as he steps inside. He’s relentless, voices his thoughts with the kind of logic only he would find convincing, “C’mon, we’ll save water!”

You stand with your back to him, his body wash traveling down your skin in soap bubbles, the scent filling the air, and you let your shoulders shrug. You don’t turn around. Number one, because you’ll give in. Number two, because you can hear the pout on his lips, and that’s the reason for number one.

You try your best to sound annoyed, “Jeongguk, just leave. You don’t even pay for it.”

“Our poor earth pays for it,” he quips, stepping further into the cramped space, body still bare, and that’s maybe a number three for you, “Because you wanna be so unfair to your best friend and leave him out in the cold.”

“You’re not my best friend.”

His gasp is dramatic, you even hear it echo through the tiny room, and you fight hard to contain the giggle locked inside you, but it escapes in the shape of a snort, which you quickly try to conceal by clearing your throat. You even further go with the lie, “You heard me.”

“Unbelievable. I’m kicking you out the second you’re done here,” he tries his best menacing tone, the threat barely harsh and effective, closing the door behind his back with an exaggerated thump, followed by unintelligible grumbling.

You take your sweet time in his now steamy bathroom. You shampoo twice, deliberately squeezing out a generous amount of his own fancy product in your palm, making sure the squeak of the bottle is heard through the door so he knows you’re helping yourself. His high-quality hair dryer blasts warm air over your damp hair until it’s only mildly wet. And you even rummage around his cabinet, indulging in his collection of expensive skincare creams. These little luxuries are exactly why you never pass a single occasion to shower over at his dorm room.

And the second you’re done in there, he doesn’t kick you out like he threatened. It takes a moment for him to move his attention from his phone to your figure, wrapped around in his fluffy robe, and he doesn’t even try to keep up the menacing act. Still spread on his ruined bed, his furrowed brows relax, and his lips break into a grin. He scans your face, then giggles, “You’ve got a massive pimple on your forehead.”

“Fuck you. I’m taking one of your hoodies.”

“It’s called borrowing,” even in the midst of checking out your freshly-washed naked body, now being stripped from his bathrobe, he’s still committed to the game of banter you two always play.

“It’s not if I’m not giving it back,” you counter, voice muffled by the fabric of one of his many black sweatshirts you’re already pulling over your head, quickly shuffling into your jeans, helping them up with some small hops that make him grin.

He doesn’t seem bothered by your comeback, too used to losing his own clothes to your closet; rather, he watches you move with what seems like hurry around his dimly lit room. He shifts higher, letting the sheets slip to reveal his still bare, and slightly sweaty torso, “Wanna hang out together at the party tomorrow?”

”Hmm, I’ll just see you there,” you don’t pay him much attention, using your phone camera as a mirror to wipe away any smudged mascara under your eyes. “I’ve already got a partner, actually.”

Jeongguk fully sits up now, vision a little blurry from the hasty and sudden movement, phone forgotten, “A partner?”

The way you casually let a smile tug at your lips while talking about a man is new, “Yeah. A guy from my English class asked me to go with him. He’s pretty cute.”

You’re too busy shoving your belongings in your bag and mentally cataloging every single item to notice the expression your best friend is currently sporting, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. Tank top, makeup, laptop… where the fuck is— oh, here. Lip balm. What else?

Jeongguk thinks you’re forgetting something deathly important. A fucking explanation, maybe? He’s known you to occasionally fool around with random guys, but he thought it was just that. Occasional and random. When did it get to having a partner? That sounds silly. Or maybe a little too formal, a little too real. What the fuck does having a partner even entail?

You’re blissfully unaware of the stubborn storm taking over Jeongguk’s thoughts, especially because you’re not exactly sparing him a second glance, moving with single-minded focus, hurrying to leave. Because apparently it’s so bad to want to spend the night with your best friend. Share a bed, watch a movie, talk gossip (it’s been so long since you’ve updated him the way only you can about the latest campus stories, ugh). Amazing, yes, that’s totally fine with Jeongguk.

And he does manage to sound unbothered, “What’s his name?”

“Namjoon.”

Jeongguk focuses on your slim fingers slipping your lip balm into the front pocket of your bag, syllabes leaving his lips in a slow mumble, “Ah, Namjoon. I know him. I guess.”

Fucking Kim Namjoon. Of course he knows him. 6 feet tall, polite, model student Kim Namjoon. Shit. Great choice. No, really, he’s the perfect catch.

“Hm? Well, I think he’s very nice. And hot as fuck.”

He grimaces, “Gross.”

“You’re one to talk,” pulling the hood over your head, you finally meet his eyes. You’re completely oblivious to the thoughts gnawing at him, so you think his disappointment is only caused by your next words, “I should get going now.”

“What? You’re not staying over for dinner?” The way he looks up at you with doe, puppy-dog eyes almost makes you trip on your own resolution, but you only ruffle his hair from your stance next to his bed, hoping the small action is enough to satisfy your hunger. Not for dinner.

“Nah, sorry Gguk. Gotta get up early for English class.”

He scoffs, moving stubbornly from your soothing touch, “Sure. English class with Joohyuk.”

“…Namjoon.”

“Right, that’s what I said. Namsun.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-laughing, “No, it’s Namjoon.”

“Namgi.”

“Namjoon.”

“Whatever, don’t care.” The words have barely any space to roll out through his pout, and along with his petty little slip-ups it’s the most childish act you’ve seen him pull so far. To be completely honest, he seems to break a new record every other day.

You fight the urge to roll your gaze at the ceiling, finding it impossible to deal with pouty, hungry and cuddle-starved Jeongguk. You sigh, muttering, “Insufferable.”

“Give me a kiss, brat.”

The teasing comes so naturally that for a second you don’t ponder on the demand being something a normal friend wouldn’t exactly ask. But it isn’t one you’ll deny.

You bend down to meet him as easily as he let the request out, muttering a playful Oh, I’m the brat now? before brushing his pushed lips with yours in a sweet, short kiss, enough to draw a soft sigh from both of you. You hum against it, voice warm with something that contradicts your words entirely, “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Sure,” rolling your eyes, you grant his cocky figure that little win, too tired to put up a fight, even if you almost rethink it when he confidently leans back against the pillows, smirking up at you. You decide to cut it short, it’s for the best, throwing your bag over your shoulder as well as one last look at him, before readying yourself for the walk of shame through his frat.

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Namjoon is, by all standards, the perfect guy. He’s genuine, smiles sweetly with his dimples showing and his eyes crinkling into crescents that make him seem both wise and youthful.

Careful, even protective over you, making sure you’re comfortable. With your drink, with your seat, with your conversation.

Almost too attentive, which should calm your nerves, but instead you feel yourself unable to fully let go. Open up to him like he’s doing with you, like you think you want to do.

You’re not sure. You can’t feel that mysterious spark everybody talks about. That spark Jeongguk admitted he’s never felt with anyone so far, no matter the number of girls he’s been with. The one he’s confessed he’s desperate to feel. The one you hope he can find.

Wait, why are you thinking about Jeongguk?

Said boy has yet to acknowledge you, standing across from you in the crowded living room of your mutual friend’s house. Each weekend, the same ritual brings you back here, whenever Taehyung’s parents head off for one of their rich-people, luxurious trips. The space is familiar, a backdrop to countless parties, all too often ending in someone’s drunken confessions and stolen kisses that’d become the talk of campus until the next party came around.

As tradition would want, with the clock ticking its way past midnight, you’d be drunk out of your mind already. Tonight, however, you’re not even sure you want to be here.

Namjoon is keeping close tabs on your drinks, monitoring each glass you reach for, and you know he means well; ordinarily, you’d find it sweet, endearing even. But it only seems to heighten your anxiety now. It just reminds you of how out of place this whole thing feels. You want to drown your awkwardness in a wave of liquid courage, and the irony isn’t lost on you: the very reason why you’re nervous is keeping you from numbing it.

Namjoon makes you way too aware of yourself. You wish your first proper hang out wasn’t at a filthy frat party, the blasting music causing you both to lean into each other to make conversation. The proximity makes your palms disgustingly clammy, and you hope he doesn’t reach for your hand.

You also think this isn’t the type of scenario that best suits Namjoon. You would have loved to be with him somewhere softer, with less noise and more light, talking over coffee instead of loud techno, his poetic speech lulling you into infatuation. Maybe then, this would have gone like you had imagined it might. Like you wanted it to go, just to prove something to yourself. You’re still not sure what exactly.

But this house — this party — is a natural habitat for people like Jeongguk. It’s a playground he navigates with ease, his charisma amplified by the darkened rooms and faint cigarette smoke that seems to follow him, just like everyone around him. They exist solely to orbit his mood.

It’s as he saunters back inside after yet another smoke break that you spot him again, his focus entirely on whatever girl is currently at his side. With Namjoon leaving to grab a drink for the two of you to share, you take the short moment to be a shameless creep and study your friend’s movements from the other side of the room.

You can’t help but feel a sting of irritation. Jeongguk is fully aware you’re here. You’d texted him earlier, just something casual to say you’d arrived, maybe even expecting him to meet you or give you a quick wave. Instead, there’d been no reply.

Just like the TikToks you’d sent last night, after you told him you wouldn’t be staying over at his, that also went ignored. You didn’t think too much of it, figured it was probably one of his petty acts. You aren’t any better: it’s not like you’ll go up to him to say hi, not after he ignored you. Those videos were funny, too. He’s the one missing out.

But now, your eyes squinted to try and get the best possible view on each detail of the scene in front of you, what you notice is nothing about him and everything about who he’s currently spending the time he could have used to acknowledge you with.

It’s not just whatever girl. It’s Haeun.

You haven’t seen them hanging out together in what feels like months, and frankly, you’re thrown. Maybe that’s also the reason why he suddenly had no time for you. You scoff.

You’re just confused, really. Jeongguk didn’t mention a thing about her, and it’s not like he’s ever kept his hookups or flings a secret. But Haeun was never just that. She was the one he seemed almost ready to get in his first serious relationship with, the one girl you thought could make him forget all about his usual habits.

When Jeongguk had first started hanging out with Haeun, he’d seemed uncharacteristically interested. You naturally found yourself rooting for him, hoping he’d take a leap and start something real after many failed attempts.

At that point, your casual arrangement with him had been going on for a while, but you knew it wasn’t built to last. You’d expected it to end sooner rather than later, and you were okay with that. You just wanted him to be happy with himself and his choices.

But on the night he was supposed to take Haeun out on a date, the one that could have changed everything, it’s like a magic vacuum turned on and sucked all his progress away. He’d shown up in front of your door instead. No explanations, no details about what had happened; he didn’t want to talk. He only wanted to be near you and sink into silence.

That night you laid next to him, his head on you, hair sprawled out on your stomach, and said absolutely nothing.

Since then, he hadn’t mentioned Haeun at all, and you’d assumed it was over. The right side of your brain was irrationally glad for that, greedily geeking at the prospect of still getting to keep Jeongguk close in ways that go over a simple friendship. In ways that have you thanking God for not taking your friend’s sex skills away from you; in ways that have your nose scrunching whenever he leaves small, delicate pecks on the side of your neck as you watch a movie cuddled in his embrace. If he had decided to go on that date, you would be denied all of this luxury.

The left side of your brain is a little less greedy, a little more rational. The half of your mind responsible for keeping some logic instilled in you even thought it could have been a good thing for Jeongguk to experience a different side of relationships.

You’ve always sensed there to be deeper reasons beneath Jeongguk’s carefree front. You’ve watched him jump from girl to girl, dip in and out of flings with seemingly no thought, as if he’s not trying to bury issues he should find a different answer for, to avoid whatever insecurities he’s run too far away from to face.

He’s never had to spell it out for you. You never pressed him on the topic either. And you think he’s grateful for it, for your silence that offers him the stability he won’t admit he needs, for simply staying and understanding. For allowing him to be vulnerable.

You wish you could give him more than that quiet comfort. Wonder if you should try your luck and push him to see that he does deserve something real— more than the distractions he uses to keep his fears at bay.

Jeongguk would make an incredible boyfriend. He always spots the small details, the slight changes in your mood, and he picks them up before you can even notice yourself, caring in a silent way that doesn't go unnoticed. Not by you.

It’s easy to imagine him being the kind of partner who’d cater to his girl’s needs effortlessly, even in quiet, even if hidden. You know he could be that person if he could just let anyone in beyond sex. When he’ll find the one, it’ll be clear it’s all he was made for.

Right now though, if anyone were to ask you that, you’d advise them to just go and look for another one, because he’s a little, lying piece of shit. You’re just a tad bit upset about it, if your crossed arms and furrowed brows are anything to go by.

You don’t understand why he’s now there, standing next to the girl he himself stood up, the one he looked ready to fix everything for, and then wasn’t. Leaning in close as if nothing had ever happened.

Why couldn’t he tell you, at least give you a heads-up if he was reconnecting with her? You know it shouldn’t bother you as much as it does, but the fact that he’s hiding it stings. Are you overthinking this?

When he lifts his head from her ear and scans the room, his eyes landing right on yours for a brief second just to look away, you don’t think you are. His attention shifts back to Haeun as if he hadn’t seen you at all. What the fuck?

You question what’s the point of having eyes to see when you are now forced to witness Jeongguk leaving the room with Haeun hanging her draggy weight on his arm, his smile cockish as he helps her up by her waist, fingers digging dangerously close to the curve of her perfectly shaped peach.

Their chemistry is undeniable, hands finding skin with unpracticed ease. It must be the way Jeongguk can effortlessly work his charm with any girl he deems attractive enough to fuck, his smirk and the way he lets his nose scrunch almost timidly, as if you can’t see right through him, making women potty in his sculpted hands.

The prospect of your best friend getting laid by the girl he was almost ready to change it all for should make you happy. Smile, at least.

Instead, you frown, mindlessly taking long sips from the straw in your glass and letting it stir your too watered-down cocktail that lacks any real flavor. You don’t even try to find answers as to how another drink landed right on the counter you rest your back on, but you’re glad for it.

You’re more upset at the fact that he decided not to tell you anything. You would have helped him through it, supported him, advised him on what to do, how to move in such a situation. But even if he didn’t need any of this, you would have appreciated just knowing. From him.

The ways in which the two of you are intertwined right at this moment don’t exactly allow him to completely leave you unaware of his actions. It’s not fair.

But then, are you even supposed to feel like this in the first place? Is only sex supposed to have this impact on you? Is even the smallest cell in his brain producing a thought that might take him back to you, and could it compare to a third of what you think and feel?

Does he not get that tingly sensation with you, ‘cause he’s used to it? ‘Cause you’re nothing too different nor special from all the choice he has laid at his feet, nothing out of the usual routine?

A gentle hand on your arm jolts you out of your thoughts. The touch is delicate, but the way it pulls you from your spiral is rough, making you stumble on the already wobbly stool you’re sitting on. When you look to your side, Namjoon meets you with a warm smile.

You hadn’t even noticed him being back next to you, and you figure that’s probably how that drink found its way in your hands. You’re a deer caught in headlights as you look at him, then down at the almost empty glass, then back at the boy. Your eyes widen impossibly more, and you struggle with finding a louder volume to your voice, almost fading with the music, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to finish this all by myself.”

You remember him saying he’d get a drink for the two of you to share before leaving you with your haunting thoughts. He just laughs in a way that should soothe your nerves, but it doesn’t, “It’s okay. You look like you needed it. I’m getting another one for me and catching up with some of my friends over there. I’ll be back in a bit, alright?”

“Yeah, totally. No problem,” your words roll out your tongue in a slurred hurry, face already turning to the opposite side of the room, and you’re not even sure what you’re agreeing on. You just feel Namjoon slip away from the seat next to yours again.

The brief interaction was enough for Jeongguk to have time to completely disappear from your strict observing, and just like the boy who should have had your undivided attention tonight, he equally slips away. From your vision, from the party. And from you. He’s with Haeun now, after all. And you’re alone.

Being truthful, Jeongguk is once again slipping away from his problems only. He doesn’t know how he ended up with Haeun by his side, but when he found your big, confused eyes in the midst of what should have been his escape for the night, he thinks he could name a few reasons.

It’s suffocating, the grip you have on him. He can almost feel one of your slim, delicate hands around his throat. He’s a dirty little sadist, of course he enjoys the pain. But he shouldn’t, so he runs from it until his back hits the wall, and the hold only gets tighter.

There’s nothing to do but face the truth. And you’re in front of him, eyes lost and inviting him to tell you. What should be easy for him to say, what he owes you. But the words get stuck in his throat, right where you’re pressing, and he feels like he might stop breathing.

He could die like this, with your narrowed orbs pitying him, and he badly wishes you would call him a coward. The hold is just enough to hurt him, not to make him lose his senses; if anything, it only makes his head spin around the one thought he wants to avoid. You.

With the quickest distraction he could get his hands on, he keeps adding to it: Haeun clinging to his side, he steps out the packed room to light the nth cigarette, the smoke clouding his vision and making the image of you fade from behind his eyelids. You release your hand from him and disappear. He almost whines. He misses you already. But the faint ache is a reminder.

Instead, in front of him is the only girl he should have truly avoided. Haeun is another reminder. Not because she looks similar to you, you’re way prettier. You’re beautiful.

No, it’s just because he remembers Haeun being his first victim, using her to bury something stronger growing inside him. But it didn’t work then, and it doesn’t work now.

She’s the only girl he tried his luck with to avoid his now unavoidable feelings for you. Then, he physically couldn’t touch another woman beside you. So he started flirting with more cigarettes and alcohol. Maybe some joints then and there.

Jeongguk would love to know why he prefers destroying himself rather than just be the confident man he lets everyone else think he is, go up to you and be honest, like you make it so easy for him to be. The fact that it almost slipped out of him more than a couple times scares him.

It shouldn’t. He wants to fall into that soothing caress, but could he even handle the possibility of you simply, and rightfully if you deemed it the correct choice, rejecting him?

The answer is no. He can’t afford losing your touch on him, your lashes fluttering when you look up at him, your fingers tracing secret maps on his back. He wonders if you’re outlining the safest ways for him to escape from the maze he himself created, of which he forgot the exit to.

With Haeun pressing herself to his side, he thinks he’d rather stay trapped there at this point. A maze built by lies, letting you believe he’s fucking other girls on the side when he feels sickened just by the thought of it, his hand now coming up to push the girl back to a safe distance. Built by insecurities, preferring having you think that you’re simply one of the many he has when he firmly believes you’re the only one that the universe has especially assigned him to.

It’s making him lose his mind, while you live unaware, free from the truth. He’s sure in the stretch that went from yesterday, when you told him about your fucking partner, and tonight, seeing you so close to said partner’s face, your dress custom-made by the hands of every angel populating heaven, Jeongguk developed some kind of clinical illness. The flame of jealousy in his toned tummy has eaten him whole.

And he feels slightly ashamed of himself knowing this is how he found himself circling back to his first poor attempt at running away from you, in the form of a short girl, her eyes now questioning him just like yours had done earlier. Haeun furrows her brows, “Are you seriously doing this again?”

Jeongguk sighs, glancing away to take a long drag from his cigarette that fills his lungs and almost aches. He avoids the eye contact that would be needed for a conversation like the one he’s forced to have — one that wouldn’t have occured in the first place if he could just be a normal person — instead he looks back to the room through the glass doors, “I’m sorry, Hae. I— I can’t do this—“

“Yo, Gguk. You need to come with me now. ___ is throwing up in the bathroom.”

It’s Taehyung sliding the glass door open with more force than what he usually puts, and right now nobody would tell he’s the same one always advising his friends to be delicate with it. The look on his face is panicked and it quickly reflects in Jeongguk’s eyes, flickering between his friend and Haeun.

Next, his reflexes are quicker. He steps inside the house, skipping past Taehyung and the flood of college students dancing their Friday away to Usher and seemingly not caring about the urgency written all over his expression.

He makes it to the bathroom where people have started to crowd around as if lining up to an unmissable show, and he doesn’t care if his pushes are too rough as he makes his way through.

You’re quite literally hugging the toilet, your face one with the lid as a few girls try and help you with your hair. The moment they see Jeongguk, it’s like they know he’s the one that you need, that he’s finally here and you’re in good hands. He shoots them a quick nod as they step aside and then, he’s immediately crouching next to you, gently gathering your long locks into his fist.

He moves some stray strands behind your ears while you keep letting it all out, and as much as his broad back is enough to hide you from watchful eyes, he can still hear murmurs from onlookers.

It’s as Jeongguk is debating whether he should cuss them out or keep his attention on you that Taehyung comes to promptly clear the crowd, closing the bathroom door behind him only after making sure his friend doesn’t need any more help.

Jeongguk appreciates the gesture, knowing how overwhelmed you can get in these scenarios with too many people around. Although, no matter how calm he appears for your sake, his heart races even as you seem to settle and sit on the tiled floor, your back resting against the cool wall.

You gulp down a few times, squeezing your eyes to try and ground yourself, the way you can feel Jeongguk’s hand hold the side of your leg, his thumb delicately brushing the inside of your thigh, definitely helping.

“Toots,” he whispers, face close to your own, “Hey, doll. You’re okay now, hm? What happened?” His voice is low, slow, almost scared of flowing past his lips.

When you open your eyes he’s directly in front of you, squatting down to stay on your level, and his brows are drawn high in worry.

You sniff, your voice still rough from the scratching on your throat, “Fucking— Jimin. I met him in the kitchen and we mixed too much shit together—“

“Weren’t you with Kim Namjoon?” Jeongguk interrupts you, both his tone and the way his eyebrows now dip inquisitive.

You shrug, looking down at your fingers fidgeting, “Dunno. Why the fuck am I still not sober,” the way you tone the question doesn’t make it sound like one, and you end up giggling at yourself, hiccuping in the process.

Jeongguk sighs, unconsciously tightening his hold around your leg, his fingers digging and making you whimper subtly. He notices, soothing the skin only to take both his hands to scoop you up by your armpits, lifting both your bodies on your feet.

You yelp, throwing your weight on him with another one of your senseless chuckles, looking up at his bothered face through your lashes. He straightens your posture with wide palms on your waist, throwing one of your arms around his shoulders and causing you to step out of the small room on your tiptoes. He grumbles, “I’m taking you back to the dorm now. And we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“Talk about what?”

“Namjoon.”

You stay quiet as the both of you, your body snug against his, walk through the party and out the house to reach Jeongguk’s car. Your thoughts are sluggish, failing to grasp why he’d even want to talk about Namjoon. Isn’t he just a nice guy? You’re more concerned with Jeongguk’s seemingly irked tone and the distressed way his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.

A soft, involuntary whine escapes you when you think you might be the reason for that, shuffling yourself closer into his warmth, but the contact is brief as he gently settles you into the passenger seat and clicks the belt, then he closes your door and circles the car to the driver’s side.

Awkward. The only sound that can be heard is the soft hum of the engine, beside the fuzzy buzz in your ears. You feel laughter bubbling up in your chest but you hold it there, turning to study Jeongguk’s side profile. Inhaling, you start, “Can you— can I put on—”

“No.”

Your smile falters, “What? C’mon, give me the aux.”

“The last thing I want right now is to listen to those songs.”

Any previous tipsy instinct that made you want to laugh at the situation fade with his words and the way his grip on the steering wheel says more than what he’s letting on. You’re hazy, but his clenched jaw and laser focus on the road make you sit up straighter, adjusting your slouched posture and the skirt of your dress with it, pulling it further down your thighs.

The tension coming off him feels so heavy that it leads to irrational, childish tears pricking your eyes, and you sound defeated when you whisper, “Are you mad at me?”

He brakes a little too hard at the red light, and you both lurch slightly forward. Jeongguk seems to realize just now that he’s unfairly taking his anger out on you, and the way you let out the question in the smallest voice makes his heart speed up, turning to you with apprehension, “No, toots. No, why would I be? I’m mad at that fucker.”

“He was just talking with some of his—”

“He left you alone. He was supposed to take care of you. Not let you get fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk sounds final, his tone allowing no more condoning nor excuses for the tall guy now left behind you, back at the party. But you don’t seem to focus too much on the meaning of his words, rather you bask in the consequences of them. He’s not upset with you!

That spurs you to contradict him further, this time on the accusation he threw at you, but it’s less than credible when you say it through a sheepish smile that unconsciously made its way on your lips at the protective edge to his tone, “I’m not fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk only sighs, but you can see him visibly relax, shoulders going down and leaning against the back of his seat, right hand coming to pat your bare knee with a small smile on his pierced lips.

You share a look that fully sobers you up only to get you high all over again off his doe eyes, the artificial lights dotting a universe of their own in those orbs, undiscovered galaxies and planets inviting you to move there, even with no water, no oxygen, no way of surviving.

When the soft hue of the red light reflecting on the side of your face morphs to green, he moves his attention back on the road, taking his hand with it to shift gears. Then, he concedes, “Put on the playlist.”

You blink, a little taken aback by his sudden shift in mood, but just as quickly you recover. Your brain seems to be able to focus on one thing at a time either way, so you don’t ponder on your insides collectively moving at the way he looked at you and instead reach for the aux cord, fingers tapping on your phone screen absentmindedly, with a conscience of their own.

Music interrupts the quiet, and you can’t help but join, “The night we met I knew I, needed you so. And if I had the chance I’d, never let you go. Sing with me!”

Jeongguk breaks into a grin, no matter how much he fights it, “You’re so fucking wasted.”

“So won’t you say you love me? I’ll make you so proud of me. We’ll make ‘em turn their heads every place we go, so won’t you please,” Be My Baby by The Ronettes fills the previous silent tension, which you seemingly already forgot everything about, using Jeongguk’s free hand as your own personal microphone, folding it in a fist between your palms.

Jeongguk would never say it out loud, especially now, after he only pretended he had to be begged to put it on, that he’s actually grown attached to this playlist. Started as a little mishap and turned into something that got under his skin, much like you have.

Its creation came about from a comically embarrassing moment that gave you ammunition to tease him for weeks. Although, he’s glad for it when he reflects deep enough: the whole episode helped shape the bond between you two, adding to its foundation.

He still doesn’t know how you managed to slip so sneakily into his dorm that evening, but what’s sure is that he wasn’t expecting you, taking the time of his life in his bathroom, fresh out of the shower. Simply following his usual routine, one that you wouldn’t have exactly considered usual since you only ever knew him as an avid Drake listener, he hummed along to Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love flowing softly from his phone speaker.

It wasn’t just that, of course, because then he started styling his wet hair in an exaggerated pompadour and fully got into character, strutting dramatic poses in front of the mirror and even practicing Elvis’s iconic curl of the lip. If his soul was by any chance watching over the scene, you’d hoped he’d agree with you that Jeongguk was truly giving Austin Butler a run for his money.

The private show sadly ended when he caught sight of you in the foggy glass, your lips sealed shut to try and hold your delighted laughter, but it got ripped out of you in the form of an obnoxious snort the moment his eyes went wide in horror and his face crimson in shame.

It was hell for a few weeks after that. You didn’t let him off so easily, teasing him for being a secret softie with a love for old-school romance under all the layers of his tough fuckboy image that only ever seemed to handle trappy beats.

When you jokingly suggested he might as well get fully into the act and start calling you toots or something, he didn’t back down from the tease, scoffing at you with narrowed eyes. Somewhere along the way, the dry, sardonic tone with which he first used that pet name on you stuck, and it became less of a joke, more of an endearing way to refer to you, and only you.

Before either of you could second-guess it, the playlist was born. You two crafted it together in fits of laughter and late-night texts, with Jeongguk suggesting songs from his secret stash and you contributing the ones you grew up on.

It quickly became the soundtrack to many of your aimless car rides, something that neither of you acknowledged outright but silently cherished. Sometimes, you’d get so carried away and slip into the roles of a ‘60s couple, playfully reciting cheesy lines back and forth.

No matter how much Jeongguk pretends he hates it to save what’s left of his bad boy reputation, he really doesn’t. Not even a little bit. Even the way he rolls his eyes and groans isn’t enough to hide the spark in his eyes when you sing along.

He feels worse than a pubescent teenager when he lets his guard slip to hear you hum words he can only imagine are just for him, meant in the way he wants. You swing side by side and smile up at him with dimples digging long slits into your cheeks, and he has to act as if it makes him feel completely normal and not like he’s going to crash his car any second.

Each lyric that spills from your mouth feels like it’s tying him down, even with your sweet voice a little unsteady, thanks to whatever is still left from the night’s drinks. You’re so not aware of what it does to him.

Your eyes are on the road, but Jeongguk’s linger on you, his fingers unconsciously tapping the steering wheel to the tune.

“I’d save every day like a treasure, and then, again, I would spend them with you.”

Jeongguk purposefully veers off onto streets he doesn’t need to take, buying himself a few extra minutes with you, but you don’t notice and he pretends to not know either. Would never admit it’s because he wants to hear you sing a little more, and that this ongoing joke between the two of you might be his favorite thing in the whole world.

“But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them. Hold on, this one’s a little lower. I’ll find my note, wait,” you’re mostly talking to yourself, cheek pressed to the cool glass of the window, but you glance at Jeongguk as if seeking for approval, clearing your throat, “I’ve looked around enough to know that you’re the one I want to go through time with.”

Just as Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce fades out, Jeongguk pulls into the campus parking lot, turning the engine off and cutting the music with it. None of you move right away, accepting the stillness in the car.

You don’t accept the silence, though, letting your mind speak a thought that has been nagging at you, “Can you fuck me here? Right now?”

The way you voice the request would make anybody who didn’t understand English think you’d just asked for something as mundane as a glass of water, your eyes unfaltering, a small smile on your waiting lips, voice barely slicing through the quiet. It’s almost as if you don’t know it’s the kind of thing that could derail Jeongguk’s entire thought process.

Jeongguk lightly chokes on his own breath, giving a few coughs before turning to you, his tattooed hand messing his hair further, “Jesus Christ, ___. You know I can’t.”

You tilt your head, considering him, as if this is a serious debate rather than drunken rambling, “Why not?”

Jeongguk can only sigh. He takes in your disheveled state and notices the way your exposed skin prickles with the cold, reaching for the leather jacket he carelessly threw on the backseats before heading to the party, having had no idea you’d be the one wearing it by the end of the night.

He wraps it gently around your shoulders, moving sticky, stray strands of hair from your face, “You’re so drunk. Look at you.”

“I told you I’m not,” you protest weakly, but your confidence falters when his fingers ghost over your face.

“There’s vomit in your hair,” he shuts you bluntly, tone softer than the honest words.

“Oh,” your stubbornness doesn’t work this time, and you’re mortified as you glance down at your lap, where his fingers fall to mindlessly play with the zip of his bomber jacket, brushing your tummy in the process. Your voice doesn’t sound so sure now, especially when each subtle graze sends small shocks through you, “That’s disgusting.”

The soft chuckle he lets out has you stealing a look upward, and when you catch his expression your slowed down brain can only come to the conclusion that maybe he doesn’t find you all that disgusting: he sports a rare, wide curve of his bunny smile, eyes crinkling when that same fondness finds its way onto your lips. You can’t help what they do next, a mind of their own as you rest them on his own mouth, the tip of his nose tickling your cheek.

It’s the faintest of kisses, and it’s delicate, fleeting, over far too soon, but you’re the one to pull back first no matter how much longer you need it to be, “That was probably disgusting too.”

As you rest your back on the seat again, his eyes are still closed, and they flutter open as slowly as a smile stretches on his mouth when he meets you. You’re giving him a look he doesn’t deserve, one he shouldn’t lean into.

His voice is a whisper, and it fans over your face, still close to his, “Not at all.”

Gleaming eyes scan every angle of you, as if trying to find anything that’ll hold him back from what he really wants to do. But, of course, his need only grows when he lets his gaze wander down, then up again.

He glances to the side with a gulp, moving his body back to reach for the car door handle, “You think you can walk or should I carry you?”

“Carry me, please,” you mumble, not even pondering on the first option, and the moment the sound leaves your lips he’s out and reaching for your side, opening your door and scooping you up like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The walk to his dorm is a blur, with you dozing off in his warmth and being lulled by the hums escaping him and reverberating through his chest, melodies of the earlier songs playing against your ear.

You regain awareness when a splash of warm water cascades over your now naked body, the sensation startling enough to make your lashes flutter against your damp cheeks. The water runs over your face, washing away the remnants of the night, the drowsy yet oddly light sensation taking over you causing a giggle to echo against the walls.

You’re still too disoriented to process the tenderness with which Jeongguk’s hand moves, brushing through your soaked strands of hair and moving them from where they flattened on your face, combing through the sticky locks.

With half-open eyes, you’re met with the sight of him in front of you, standing close enough without needing to step into the small space with you, his brows furrowed as he works the shampoo through your hair. It’s a soothing, slow motion, the one he massages your scalp with, and it only melts you further into sweet slumber.

If it weren’t for one of his hands resting tightly on your hip, grounding you as the scent of the shampoo mingles with the steam curling around you, you would have gladly swayed into his palm, letting your weak body fall into his strong one.

You sniff, leaning into his care, voice small and oddly sincere, “I’m sorry for,” hiccup, “taking you away from Haeun. You two seem close again.”

Jeongguk stills for a moment, his fingers pausing in your hair before resuming their soft motions. He pretends he didn’t hear, and you pretend you never talked in the first place when he guides you to steady yourself as your knees wobble, “Hey, stand still. You’ll get shampoo in your eyes. Close them.”

You obey, letting your eyelids drop shut as you feel his hand gently tilt your head under the spray, his touch as tender as the words he isn’t saying.

If you weren’t a victim of both sleepiness and alcohol at this very moment, your thoughts would be racing each other like eager contenders in the Overthinker Marathon, each one fighting tooth and nail for the gold medal. They’d be dissecting every little detail of the night— the way Jeongguk had ignored you, his lingering hand on Haeun’s waist, only to be there the second you needed him, the girl from earlier not even worth mentioning.

Instead, your every thinking cell has taken a rare vacation, lounging together on an imaginary green field, clinking glasses filled with leftover cocktails from earlier, lazily watching clouds drift by.

Although there’s one cell in particular, too tipsy to sit still. It hops around gleefully, urging your lips to move before the Thinking Cell General can intervene. The way it jumps up and down, up and down, makes you giggle as you blurt out, “I don’t know if it’s the water, but I’m very wet.”

The silence that follows is thick, punctuated only by the sound of water cascading down your back. Jeongguk freezes as if the words have physically reached out and yanked him into stunned stillness. He can only let his throat bob in a visible swallow and look away, warning you in a strained mutter, “___. This is your last warning. Stop teasing me.”

You whine, pathetically wiggling your weak and pliant body in his hold to seek for some kind of reaction, but he doesn’t budge. He’s uncharacteristically focused on his tasks, ensuring every trace of shampoo rinses from your hair, rather than your hardened nipples bouncing with your stubborn movements.

But you recognise the way his jaw clenches so tight it must hurt, how he refuses to let his gaze wander lower where the steam of water outlines your form. His restraint is razor-thin, yet he holds it tightly, breathing only slightly uneven.

You’re not deterred by his warning; you never are. It’s the tiny tracks in his resolve that keep you pressing forward, voice laced with a vulnerability that makes his hand twitch against your scalp, “Just… I just need your fingers. Please.”

Jeongguk exhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he angles the spray to wash the last suds away, hyper-focused on the practical task as though it’s a lifeline to his dwindling self-control.

But you’re persistent. You reach behind you, fingers messily finding the knob to twist the water off, and with the spray halting you’re left only with the hum of the bathroom fan and the faint drip of water.

Your other hand finds his, guiding his wide palm to rest on your lower stomach, just above where your want is written in every inch of your body. You whisper, plead clear in your tone, ”You know I want this. Won’t ever regret it. I’m conscious enough to be sure of that.”

Jeongguk huffs, his chest rising and falling as he stares down at you, fingers flexing slightly against your skin. He closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as if accepting defeat. He can’t win this battle.

The brown-haired boy steps into the shower, the small space shrinking even further with the addition of his broader frame, forcing you to back up against the wall. Fully dressed, water clings to his fabric, and the contrast of his damp clothes against your bare, exposed skin makes you irrationally wetter.

Jeongguk keeps silent, and at this point you don’t care how desperate you look, pushing yourself against him and getting his clothes wetter in the process. It pushes him to initiate a torturous path along your skin, using his middle finger to trace a journey from your chest, savoring the way your breath hitches, down to your warm core.

The droplets of water he collects on the way are used to spread your puffy lips and press right on your sensitive nub, making you gasp. You’re a trembling mess from the simple motion, and he has to use his free hand to steady you against the wall.

Your breasts aren’t left without being taken care of, because the moment he begins circling motions on your clit that have you seeing stars, he lowers his head to envelop one of your tits in his ravenous mouth, teeth teasing it punitively, all while looking up at you with sliced, sinful eyes.

He’s greedy, and you can’t believe he managed to hide it so well until now. But his resolve crumbles the more he revels in the way you fall apart for him, and he loses control on your chest. The sensation is sharp, delicious, and the contrast between the harshness of his bite and the softness of his tongue has you whimpering.

You’re ashamedly aware of how close you already are, his digits picking a fast speed that urges you to let go and coat him in your juices. He knows, simply from the way you let your mouth fall agape and release loud moans in the steamy air, pushing your nipples further in his swollen lips.

When he inserts one finger in your warm hole, you jolt in his secure hold, eyebrows shot upwards in the shock of your sudden orgasm, one that hits you all too harshly. It drags on deliciously, Jeongguk never wanting it to end, the slurping sound of his sucking on your tits making your surrounding spin, along with his thumb accompanying the way his single digits thrusts into you.

He only stops when you unconsciously run from his doings, slim hand wrapping weakly around his wrist, and he retreats with one last wet stripe along the curve of your boob, promptly collecting your taste from his fingers, and he thoroughly hums around them, eyes closed and cheeks hollowed.

You think you could come again from the sight alone. Panting, you smile through your ragged breaths, “Fuck. Thanks.”

Five minutes later, no one would bet you’re the same girl that begged him for his fingers and came in record time around them. Now, you sit serenely on the toilet lid, wrapped up in Jeongguk’s warmest hoodie. The oversized fabric swallows your frame, knees tucked under it as you hug them close to your chest. You look as innocent as ever.

Jeongguk stands in front of you, meticulously brushing through your damp hair with practiced gentleness, each stroke of the comb a soothing lullaby. You rest your chin lazily on your folded arms, eyes closed, the edges of sleep blurring your thoughts.

You let out a contented sigh before murmuring, words unfiltered, “You’d make the perfect boyfriend. You always take care of me. And kiss me when I need it.”

The motions of the brush stop for a fraction of a second before resuming, and what you hear next is Jeongguk’s throat clearing, his voice low and almost shaky, “That sounds so very wrong, toots.”

“What do you mean?” You don’t open your eyes as you ask the question, the warmth of his presence and the excuse of the last traces of alcohol still flowing in your tired body making you bolder than usual.

“You want me to be your boyfriend?”

“In another life, maybe. Yes,” you don’t waste time replying, words carrying a dreamy quality, “I mean, would be cool.”

“Cool?” He chuckles, but it’s the kind that’s half-exasperation and half-something else entirely, voice strained with an edge of desperation too, “God, I don’t even know why I’m still putting up with you.”

You only nuzzle closer into the borrowed hoodie, giving voice to your next thought, your thinking cells now hosting a 60s themed party, “Be my, be my baby. My one and only baby.”

The sound of your singing fades under the whirring roar of the hairdryer, and Jeongguk is quietly thankful for the way it drowns your sweet hums completely, fearing if he hears another one of those tipsy love confessions leaving your lips he might drop to his knees, undone by something he knows he can’t claim.

You rest your head against his stomach, full weight leaning on his standing figure, his long digits pulling through your strands. If you’d look up at your best friend for even one fleeting second, you’d probably laugh at the concentration on his expression, his only goal drying your hair enough to not have you waking up with a headache the following day.

You sniffle and snuggle impossibly closer to him, the heat radiating from his tummy and the white noise lulling you further into drowsiness, every careful motion of his hand coaxing you closer to sleep.

When your phone pings from the bathroom counter, the sudden buzz makes you jolt slightly. You lift your head sluggishly and gesture toward the phone, mouthing up to Jeongguk, “Pass it.”

He hands it to you without turning off the hairdryer, keeping an eye on your sleepy movements. You blink at the bright light for a moment before your expression shifts, eyes widening.

You’re completely jolted awake at the only notification on your home screen: it's Namjoon.

You tap Jeongguk’s stomach with the heel of your hand— softly at first, then with increasing urgency. The repeated motion forces him to stop the device and place it on the counter as he looks down at you, trying to peek at the screen, “What?”

You hiccup and sniff before blurting out, “Namjoon. He texted me”

The boy that was just now carefully drying your hair scoffs, arms crossed over his chest, “What does that asshole want?”

The response to the rhetorical question doesn’t come, either because you decide to ignore it purposefully or unconsciously: you look totally engulfed by the words on your otherwise empty chat with Namjoon, and Jeongguk can’t help but subtly lean his body lower to read the same texts you’re going through.

Kim Namjoon [4:26 a.m.]: Hey. Sorry for texting late, I heard from someone you threw up back at the party. I’m so sorry. I completely lost sight of you in that mess. Are you feeling any better? Very sorry again.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: It’s totally okay if you don’t want to hear from me again. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t at least try to make it up to you.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: I’d really like to take you out on a date. Would you let me?

Jeongguk kisses his teeth irkedly, “Why the fuck does he text like Prince William? Fucking English major,” and he truly tried his best to sound unaffected, but the words leave his mouth before he even knows he’s thinking of them.

Luckily, you don’t seem to notice, reading the message aloud like you can’t quite believe it yourself, “He said he’d like to go on a date with me. Like, he asked me on a date. And said he would like it. To go on a date—”

“Yes, we got it.”

“He doesn’t hate me, Gguk!” Once again, his petty comments go unnoticed as your face lights up, eyes crinkling with joy as you practically beam up at him.

Jeongguk wants to be annoyed, but he simply can’t when he’s met with all the stars in the universe right in your glossy, tired eyes. He swallows hard and forces a soft chuckle, “No, he doesn’t, toots. Anyone would be crazy to hate you.”

The grin on your lips only widens, nose scrunching adorably as you let your cheek sheepishly brush against your shoulder, “Oh my god, Gguk. I’m going on a date with him! Heh.”

“That’s nice,” he says, picking up the hairdryer again before your words can settle too heavily in the space between you. “I’m not finished with your hair, though. Stay still.”

The device roars to life once more, its noise filling the room and covering your excited giggles. Jeongguk keeps brushing through your hair with steady motions, his face impassive, but he feels something tighten, heavy and unyielding in his chest.

He tells himself the noise is a blessing, a shield from the silence he wouldn’t know how else to fill—or from the sound of his own voice, betraying him in ways he can’t afford.

────୨ৎ────

“I’ll miss the sex when Namjoon will ask me to be his girlfriend.”

In the quiet of the library, your sudden whisper startles Jeongguk. The chair screeches under him and it gains the both of you a few annoyed looks. He nods in apology at their way, moving closer to the table again, and he has to blink a few times before he can even meet your eyes. The scattered pens all over the white surface looked more interesting either way.

“When he— his— what?” He feels pathetic for being unable to even form a senseful sentence, but there’s no absolute way he blames his brain for that. It’s his heart, stuttering along with the barely intelligible question.

It cracks at the middle the more your grin splits your face in half, nose scrunching adorably, and he may be a horrible friend but he can’t bring himself to return your irony, nor the masked excitement under it.

If he were handed pen and paper and asked to write about how he feels right at this moment, he wouldn’t put down a single thing. Not because there isn’t anything to say. He fears your innocent teasing has done something catastrophic, snapping that one damned string that connected his brain to his heart, and the two aren’t communicating. Jeongguk is in the middle of two angered parents, fighting and on the brink of divorce. That’s what he gets for being a total pussy.

You shrug, frowning slightly when all you’re faced with is his blank expression, eyes unresponsive and detachedly looking elsewhere, but you keep yours on him, studying even the small movements, “I mean, he’s a nice guy. I think he’s serious about getting to know me.”

The word serious causes an involuntary twitch of his head, tilting almost imperceptibly to the side, and he sounds way too defensive, “And are you?”

Furrowing your eyebrows at his unexpected reaction, you return to your previous mindless doodling, keeping your voice low, “Well, he’s cute. Let’s see where this thing goes.”

“What about me?”

The question catches the both of you off guard. Your pencil halts as you glance at him through the corner of your eye, and even if you can’t see him clearly, the way his dark orbs widen is almost comical that you would laugh in any other situation. But now, the air is oddly tense and it makes your nose scrunch in awkwardness.

He breaks it with a chuckle, a subtle tremor in it that luckily goes unnoticed by you but that will probably keep him up at night for the next five years, and he lightly shoves your shoulder in an effort at feigning ease, “You really wanna pass on this dick?”

“God, you’re gross,” the annoyed roll of your eyes has Jeongguk releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding; it’s odd, but that’s just who he is.

The second you return to weightless banter, he’s back in his element. He can smirk, tease and deflect— these are tools he’s mastered over the months. But the thought of stripping naked for your eyes to see, and not in the sexual way you two engage in almost every night, terrifies him.

The waters are safe for what seems a fraction of a second before you pull him down in the deep, dark seas again, this dynamic between you foreign. While it is a simple, innocent question, your deceptive tone triggers unfamiliarity within him, “Besides, how’s it going with you and Haeun?”

“Huh? Oh. Haeun, yes,” his attempt at buying himself extra time is laughable, especially when Mr. Brain is now yelling at Ms. Heart for always wanting to get in the way of things he can handle alone, “Wonderfully. We— She— Huh, kissed me.”

Ms. Heart is furious. She has no other choice but to reach in her purse and slap the divorce papers on the dinner table, the glasses clinking against the plates, and Jeongguk flinches. Brain is speechless, clueless on how to react.

You only seem slightly taken aback, eyebrows raising in mild surprise, “Really? That’s nice.”

Jeongguk is equally clueless, subtly squeezing his eyes shut as if hoping to wake up somewhere else entirely, maybe in an ideal world where Kim Namjoon doesn’t exist and Mr. Brain and Ms. Heart are happily married.

Instead, he’s still in the library, and you’re still sitting next to him, scribbling on your English textbook. He frowns, getting pitiably lost in the view of your side profile, “Yeah, nice. Huh, when’s your date?”

When you glance up at him, you seem to be realizing just how odd it is for the two of you to spend this much time talking about your respective hook ups, and you cringe slightly at the unusual formality, wishing Jeongguk would just tease you like he usually does when you tell him about your untruthful and made up sexual adventures.

You purse your lips in thought, “Tomorrow, actually.”

“Oh. He’s going fast.”

“I like that.”

“I know you do.”

No matter the effort you put into trying to hide your amusement, a snort escapes you, and you quickly look away to recover from the childish grin spreading on your lips. You shake your head, closing the book in front of you, “You’re fucking disgusting.”

Jeongguk only smirks in an oddly proud way, nodding at your flustered state when he realizes he successfully managed yet again to shift the conversation from topics he doesn’t want to hear or talk about. He shrugs, “You just said that.”

“And I’ll say it again.”

“Whatever,” a small chuckle follows the dismissal, his hand coming to brush through his fluffy hair, getting too long for his liking, “I really wanted to see you tomorrow.”

Once again, Jeongguk is way too honest, way too easily. Ms. Heart is marching hastily with Mr. Brain walking close behind, trying to make sense of the situation and pushing her to reconsider her actions, but it’s no use: she’s tired, and sick of being walked over, again and again.

He doesn’t like the underlying meaning behind that, and wishes Mr. Brain would grow a pair and just swoon her back into love again. Jeongguk doesn’t like the genuine surprise etched across your face either, or, well, he doesn’t like the effect it has on him: it’s almost unbearable to accept that the blush dusting your cheeks, the one you’re probably unaware of, is caused by his unfiltered honesty. Because sincere bluntness isn’t exactly something he tries to show. Then, why does it spill out of him uncontrollably? Why— why do you look so beautiful like this?

“Hm,” your smile is small, but your dimple betrays it, Jeongguk’s whole resolve cracking with the way you sound dangerously decisive, “Too bad. You’re late.”

Jeongguk shouldn’t overthink this. You’re simply engaging in the usual dynamic, teasing him like always, no reason for his palms to sweat. He shouldn’t panic over the way nothing about what you said feels simple, nor usual, and your tone carries more than what you both want the words to mean.

He doesn’t know if it’s a warning or a test—or worse, the truth. Maybe he’s imagining it. Maybe Brain just misinterpreted the comment, too distracted by its constant squabble with Heart, both of them ignoring Jeongguk, who is still sitting at the cluttered kitchen table with his plate half-full, surrounded by a mess of inky emotions he doesn’t have the courage to clean up.

The sound of forks clinking against plates grates against his ears, drowning out the hurried excuses spilling from your mouth, the ones you’re babbling and making up along the way of gathering your things and standing up from the round table, shouldering your bag in the same hurry you left his room with before the next time he saw you was nose to nose with Namjoon.

You huff, giving a small, tight lipped smile that should be meaningless, but to Jeongguk it isn’t, “I’ll go now. See you around?”

“Huh, sure. Let me know how it goes with Namsun.”

You roll your eyes at the playful attempt, his grin just as empty, “Right. Bye Gguk.”

You’re off the hallway before he can add anything else. Not that he would have been able to. Your bag swings with your big steps, slim hands coming to absently tug your plaid skirt lower, and Jeongguk thinks and thinks.

He realizes he really doesn’t want to know how your little date goes. Would rather shoot himself rather than hearing you talk about another guy taking you out to dinner, stealing you from him and sealing the end to whatever the two of you have.

His options are narrowed. He either commits in front of you and forever changes the trajectory of your life or does something about Namjoon. But why does the option of ending his life sound much easier than stepping up to big, buff Namjoon, infatuated with the same girl he likes?

Oh.

The admission jolts him. It’s a physical reaction that causes his chair to shriek again under his movements, but this time he’s not polite enough to apologize for it. He must look crazy, wide eyes burning holes into his hands planted steadily on the table in front of him.

The girl he likes. You’re the girl he likes.

And every signal is there. The spark he sought for now lights a nervous feeling in his stomach, its fireworks interrupting Brain and Heart’s incessant arguing.

Does he look stupid not doing anything for the girl he likes? Not fighting for the girl he’s been falling for all this time?

────୨ৎ────

It should be easy. It is easy.

Jeongguk can’t let the sleepless night spent reciting lines to his ceiling go to waste. He’s sure not even theater kids could match his determination. And as he marches across campus toward the gym, where the squeak of sneakers and the echo of grunts will lead him to the person needed to put the plan into action, he reviews step by step what he’s told himself to do. It’s a well-rehearsed script, each word, every calculated expression—he’s gone over it a hundred times, accounting for every reaction.

Step one, be casual. Friendly, even. Approach Namjoon like there’s nothing calculated about this interaction—no ulterior motives, no scheme brewing beneath the surface. Just a casual catch-up between two guys.

“What’s up, Kim,” when Jeongguk spots the slightly taller boy exercising at a steady walking pace on the treadmill, he immediately hops onto the free one beside him.

Namjoon startles slightly, then smiles with those stupid, charming dimples of his, and it’s one that Jeongguk would probably only give if forced, “Hey, Jeongguk. Long time no see.”

The brown-haired boy nods, setting the speed and quickly catching up to Namjoon. He keeps his tone deliberately cool, even borderline disinterested, “You been good?”

On his left, your almost-boyfriend shrugs, jogging along, “Yeah, just studying, man. What about you?”

“Pretty much the same,” he hasn’t cracked open a book in weeks, and that study session from yesterday was just an excuse to be with you. But he can’t afford to let his thoughts linger on you too long or he’ll lose focus. He needs focus. “You catch that last game?”

Step two, pretend to care about what Namjoon is saying and then proceed with the acting skills only to suddenly remember something totally random he wanted to mention.

“Fuck, don’t remind me. I was so sure we would win,” the sweating man sounds way too affected by the recent football match, and Jeongguk fears if he asks one more question for the sake of pretending he’ll never get to the actual point.

So, he goes straight to it, “Yeah, it was rough. Oh, by the way. You know ___, right?”

The simple mention of your name causes a small stutter in Namjoon’s step, but he recovers with the stupid smile from earlier, only this time it’s wider, “Of course I know her. Why do you ask?”

Step three, just be honest. He just has to lay it all out. Be straightforward. Tell him the truth about how he’s felt for so long and what this whole thing with you is doing to him. It’s not a confrontation—it’s a conversation. Jeongguk will politely explain that he’s liked you for a while now, that he’s been in your life long before Namjoon, and, as a courtesy, he’d appreciate it if he would step back from pursuing you.

Civil. Calm. Totally chill. There’s absolutely nothing to get worked up over.

"You really don't know? Have no idea?" Jeongguk asks, his voice dropping, tone more pointed than he intended.

Namjoon slows his treadmill slightly, glancing over with furrowed brows and a faintly amused smile. “No, man. Enlighten me.”

“She’s my fucking girlfriend.”

What. The. Fuck.

That wasn’t the plan. Not even close to the plan.

────୨ৎ────

You feel stupid.

Wrapped around in your warmest coat, you still shiver. It could be the way your legs are exposed under your wool dress, high black boots reaching just beneath your knees. But there’s something else to the chill, making you shake in fading jitters. The excitement of the evening you told yourself you were looking forward to morphs into anxiety, and the passing looks of people mean more than they should as minutes tick and tick; they seem to glance at you for too long, their looks heavy with what you can only imagine is judgment.

A young girl swaddled in small but striking details from head to toe — delicate earrings that catch the light, a scarf knotted perfectly at the neck, polished nails clutching the strap of an expensive-looking bag, hair done up in a neat slicked bun — glancing nervously at her surroundings can only mean one thing: she’s been stood up.

Namjoon was supposed to meet you in front of the cozy cafè just outside the campus, its warm tones and surely even warmer ambience so very inviting. Maybe you’d go in, order a steaming hot chocolate for yourself, and chalk this up as a lesson learned. But instead, you chose to wait outside, shifting on your tiptoes every so often, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of the first man to ask you out in what felt like ages.

You feel as though you’ll be forever destined to wait more when thirty minutes go by and Namjoon is nowhere to be seen.

You frown, swaying on your heels. What you feel is not disappointment— not at first. But that only causes you to feel worse about yourself when you realize you’re almost relieved the tall man hasn’t shown up, and he’s not here to turn fears into even scarier realities. The date would have given a concrete meaning to your actions, and the thought stirs something not exactly pleasant within you.

The scratch at the back of your mind grows harder to ignore, and no matter how much you try to shake it off, your subconscious finds ways back to it when your hand instinctively dives into the depths of the expensive purse you had specially chosen for this occasion. A purse meant to complement your carefully selected dark ensemble— an effort that now feels entirely wasted. You spent so much time getting ready for something you’re not ready for at all.

Pulling out your phone, your thumb scrolls to Jeongguk’s number with a natural automatism, typing before you even register why he’s the first person you feel the need to tell.

You [9:39 p.m.]: hi

You [9:39 p.m.]: namjoon stood me up lol

The typing bubbles appear faster than you anticipated, and as you watch them dance across the screen, you burrow deeper into the fragile warmth of your jacket, the tip of your nose numb from the cold.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: Whattttttt????

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: He’s such an asshooooooole

Your first instinct is to snort at his reaction, a childish grin tugging at your lips, but it turns into a scowl when the more you reread the text, the more it sounds weird. He usually never texts like a six-year-old using his mom’s iPad.

You [9:40 p.m.]: yes he is

You [9:40 p.m.]: why are u textin so weird btw lol

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: Wym weirddd

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: I’m totally normal

You [9:41 p.m.]: wtv

You [9:42 p.m.]: u still wanna hang out?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Yes please

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Want me to pick u up

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Where are u rn

The head tilt is unconscious, but you feel it click in place. You’ve mentioned how Jeongguk is caring, how he can read your needs like no one else and caters to them quietly, but he’s never this pliant, this malleable. You like him because it’s hard to get him to bend (and you’d rather die than let Jeongguk know about this).

You [9:43 p.m.]: is ok

You [9:43 p.m.]: i’ll just walk

You [9:43 p.m.]: be there in 10

The walk usually takes you less than 10 minutes, but before meeting him, you decide to head back to your dorm and change out of these stupid fancy clothes you picked out for the date.

You keep your head low as you walk through the hallways, the full glam you put on impossible to miss as it sparkles under the fluorescent lights, just as your boots' heels echo through the corridors.

Taking off the dress and heels feels like peeling away the embarrassment of rejection, the weight of disappointment settling in as you realize you couldn’t prove to yourself that you could do it, that you can do it, take the leap and let something serious into your life.

You question whether you're even cut out for it when the guy who seemed perfect ended up proving the opposite.

Now, back in more comfortable clothes — Jeongguk's black hoodie from the other day and baggy sweatpants — you feel a little more like yourself. Scared of emotions, scared of commitment, no matter how many hours of your day are spent daydreaming about it.

The second you click the door of your room open, it’s like you can smell a weird shift in the air. And you do, literally sniff, scanning your surroundings for any hint of something burning or out of place.

But it’s not about the dorm in its physical state, no— it’s the odd silence that you’re met with, the people you’re used to sharing the space with now uncharacteristically careful with their volume.

“Oh my god, ___,” that is probably why you’re visibly startled by the sudden voice coming from your side, Iseul looking like containing excitement is the hardest task she’s ever been asked to deal with, just like the few other girls behind her, all practically vibrating, “You’re finally here.”

You furrow your brows, chuckling confusedly at the unusuality of it all— well, it’s not like you don’t get along with these people. It’s just that you’ve never gone over meaningless jokes and talks about the state of the dorm, plus you’ve never exactly been the center of attention like this. It feels off, and it reflects in your uncertain tone, “I am?”

“I’m so happy for you,” Binna chimes in next, grabbing your shoulders with way more enthusiasm than the level of your relationship with her would normally allow, and the way all of their heads nod along that it feels like a coordinated performance is starting to scare you.

“You’re… happy for—”

“I’ve always known you and Jeongguk were perfect for each other,” the affection dripping from Binna’s voice sickens you, maybe even more than the words she’s speaking.

Huh?

You swear you feel your heart skip a long beat before you mask it with an obnoxious, nervous laugh, only growing more when none of them crack a smile or react, “Me and— okay, is this a fucking joke?”

“C’mon, ___,” Iseul says, her sweet voice doing nothing to calm your tension, and if anything it only heightens it, “You don’t need to hide anymore, Jeongguk told Namjoon that you’re his girlfriend.”

Oh. So this must be a fucking joke.

And you can’t stand it.

You barely manage to shake off their relentless curiosity, the entire dorm suddenly buzzing with an interest in you after years of peaceful and civil indifference, and it only overwhelms you to the brim.

Fury boils in your chest as you step out of the building, the cold air failing to cool the anger that flares up within you. With every step, your frustration grows, and you hastily type on your phone as you make your way toward the one person that’s responsible for your temper.

You [10:07 p.m.]: what the actual fuck jeongguk

The response comes so quickly, almost as if he were waiting for you to type it, and you scoff in disbelief. In that moment, you feel a twisted sense of understanding with serial killers. It makes you question how much control you actually have over yourself.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:07 p.m.]: What’s up?

You [10:07 p.m.]: why’s the whole dorm asking me how's it like to be your gf?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: Eeehhhh???

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: That’s so weird

You’re actually gonna fuck this man up.

You [10:09 p.m.]: jeon jeongguk.

You [10:09 p.m.]: they’re saying you told namjoon i’m your girlfriend.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:09 p.m.]: Don’t use my full name and the period please 🥺

You [10:10 p.m.]: i’ll fucking kill you.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:10 p.m.]: You’re so hot when you’re like this

You [10:10 p.m.]: shut the hell up.

The banging on his door comes shortly after, and Jeongguk doesn’t even flinch. He knows it’s you, and frankly he was even expecting your arrival to be louder, hit him a little harder than it does. And when he lets you in, you storm in his space with no room for oxygen, door closing behind you but unable to contain the volume of your rage private.

“Can you explain why the whole campus thinks we’re dating? ‘Cause you’re not my boyfriend, and I’m not your girlfriend, and this is not fucking funny.”

But Jeongguk evidently does find it funny, chuckling under his hand coming to cover his mouth while the other one lifts to show you the bright screen of his cracked phone, “Really? The uni Instagram page is shipping us.”

“Shipping us?” You snatch the device from his hands, eyes widening as you scroll through the amount of stories posted in the last hour, everyone and their mother feeling entitled to weigh in on your nonexistent relationship. You whine, a hand resting at your forehead in disbelief, “Oh my god, this is ridiculous.”

“What, are you ashamed of me?” Jeongguk asks casually, walking back and sitting on the bed with a soft thud, his whole demeanor relaxed with a nonchalance that makes your left eye twitch.

You scoff, unwilling to grasp how this is even an actual thing happening to you, tossing the phone back at him, “A little bit, yeah. You think this is a fucking joke, huh? I’m now apparently dating the uni’s most popular fuckboy.”

The damned boy in front of you leans on his forearms, pouting just for show, “Hey, that’s mean. I’m no fuckboy.”

Bag thrown to the ground with a violence that it does not deserve, you start pacing back and forth in his room, letting out a borderline insane laugh, not knowing whether to scream or cry, “Yes, you are. You went through every single girl in this building.”

“Do you really think of me like that?”

The sudden sincerity that you think you spot in his tone makes you halt your steps, body turning to him as he sits straight again, his head tilting slightly.

You sigh, frustration mounting, and you throw your head back at the ceiling for any signal from the universe that this is indeed a joke, a bad, huge joke on you, “Jeongguk. Please.”

Silence fills the room next, but it doesn’t make it any easier to think nor does it quite register in your brain, mind racing with jumbled and chaotic thoughts, barely coming through as coherent words, getting intertwined with one another.

But the more you walk from one side of the room to the other, the more you’re almost able to untangle the mess, just enough to start processing what’s happening.

Then, a nuclear bomb wipes it all out, Jeongguk’s words the missile, his quiet tone the explosion, “I don’t want you to see nobody else.”

“What the fuck?”

The aftermath of the destruction is not only loud, ears ringing with a shrieking alarm going off, your figure stiff with shock, but you feel its heat burning your whole body in consuming flames that threaten to swallow you whole if you don’t let them take over, rise, flood every nerve until all you can feel is the rage boiling in your veins when you practically scream at him, ”What the hell does that even mean? You're being selfish!”

“Am I?” Jeongguk asks calm, calculated, gaze locked on yours as if daring you to challenge him further. His tone is maddeningly measured even as he pushes himself off the bed and closes the distance between you.

It’s like he’s planned this— attack after attack designed to destabilize you completely. Not only did he thrust you into the spotlight without warning, claiming you for the whole campus to see as if you’re worth nothing more than a stupid prank and a few laughs.

But now he talks with a grace that belies the chaos he’s stirred, as if his words are just another fact, something as simple as the weather, “I haven’t been seeing anybody since this summer. Since we started using no condom.”

Your pupils tremble with something far more complex than just anger, though you refuse to give it a name. He’s practically towering over you, his stance purposeful, making you feel small; as if the intensity of his gaze is not enough that it makes you falter, as if the humiliation he’s putting you through isn’t either. Head shaking, your voice does too, “That’s— not true. You’re a fucking liar. You— What about Haeun?

“Nothing even happened with her.”

The speed of his denial sets you off, an incredulous scoff breaking free as you roll your tongue against the inside of your cheek—a habit you’d picked up from witnessing his easy tempers, “Then why did you tell me you kissed?”

“Because—” Jeongguk hesitates, and the pause is so out of character that it almost gives you whiplash. The boy who always has something to say suddenly seems unsure. His hand flexes at his side, a nervous tick you hadn’t noticed before, and he exhales as if the words are fighting their way out of him, “‘Cause— I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” Your voice cracks on the word, a laugh bubbling out of you that’s sharp and fractured, borderline unhinged. It cuts through the room like broken glass, and his expression tightens, jaw clenching. But he doesn’t interrupt.

“Jealous,” you repeat, louder this time, your incredulous tone thick with rage. “You’re telling me you made up that bullshit because you were jealous?”

He doesn’t respond, and it pushes you closer to your limit, on the verge of exploding. You don’t know how you find it within you, but with a long exhale and a quick prayer up at the ceiling, you meet his gaze in an almost patronizing manner, “Jeongguk, we are not exclusive. I thought that was well implied. You don’t get to act like this. You don’t get to be jealous.”

Nodding along to your words, Jeongguk’s brows draw together, his expression somewhere between anxious and defensive. There’s something in his eyes, something close to fear, but fear of what, you can’t quite place.

When he speaks, his voice is softer than yours, as though he’s trying to keep it from breaking, “I know. We both agreed to that, yes. We’re both allowed to see other people.”

The words feel rehearsed, like he’s repeated them to himself a hundred times. But with the silence stretching, it’s clear he’s struggling to say more. His lips press together briefly, and his gaze flicks to yours, searching. It’s as though he’s waiting — no, hoping — you’ll interject, offer something to fill the space.

You don’t. You hold firm, tilting your head slightly, your confusion evident. Your wide, questioning eyes, so big, so honest, pull the truth from him in a way you don’t intend, and he exhales like it’s been forced out of him.

“But I don’t want you to.”

The sheer audacity of his words hits you like a slap, the kind that stings more because of its unexpectedness. You snort, although there’s nothing particularly amusing about your heart cracking at the middle, but you manage to keep it from resounding in your words, "That’s so fucking mean. Do you even hear yourself? You get to fuck whoever you want, and I’m kept hostage? And now—now everybody thinks we’re dating!"

"That’s good," he says, simple, unflinching.

You blink, disbelief coursing through you as your lips part in a strangled gasp. "What?" The word is half a whisper, half a shout, and it escapes before you can temper it, "You’re so selfish. I fucking hate you.”

The emotion is foreign from what you’re used to showing him, softness in quiet ways, affection in silent gestures. But now, it’s all loud rage, the opposite of love spilling out of you in volatile waves. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, itching for release, something, anything to make him feel the way you’re being forced to feel, to cut through the weight of his seemingly impassive expression showing only the barest twitch in his brows, a crack too small to satisfy your anger.

It isn’t enough. You need more.

Your palms find his chest, shoving him with the force of every burning feeling inside you. “You’re stupid,” you spit, watching him take the push without exactly budging, like he’s made of stone. It only stokes your frustration further, your hands pushing again, harder this time. “And dumb.”

Jeongguk doesn’t step back, doesn’t fight you. He stands there, his chest steady, absorbing your hits without a word. His lack of resistance only makes the storm inside you rage harder, and the tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill over.

You scramble for more, anything to turn the reality of what you truly feel into the illusion of anger, “And— and— Why the fuck are you silent! Say something!” You aim another punch at his chest, but it’s impossibly weaker, the exhaustion showing in your useless attempts at getting at him.

You sniff, and you know you lost against his indifference, your voice wavering feeling like a confession you didn’t mean to make. “Asshole. You’re being so mean. You’re making me cry.”

That’s what finally breaks him. Only the tears slipping rapidly from your eyes get his resolve to crumble. His hands are on you instantly, gripping your shoulders gently but firmly, refusing to let you squirm away. You slap at them weakly, but his touch is steady, his fingers brushing strands of hair from your face, cupping your chin to tilt it up toward him.

“Toots, no. Hey, hey,” he whispers, his tone soft in a way that disarms you completely. His thumb swipes at a stray tear, but your face turns away, evading him like it’s your only line of defense. He doesn’t back down, “Stop crying. Hey, look at me. Will you?”

“Stop calling me that!” You finally snap, jerking your face away again. The tears are spilling faster now, no matter how much you want to fight them, no matter how much you want to cling to the fury. “I hate you. You’re fucking all the girls in this college, and I’m only fucking you, because— because—”

“God,” Jeongguk groans, exasperation dripping from his tone. You’re about to hurl another half-formed insult or maybe even take a swing at him again, aiming low, but his next words stop you cold.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” His tone is quieter now, more deliberate, the vulnerability in it cutting sharper than anything else he’s said. “I like you. I broke the rule.”

You’re sure your heart will fail you today. It misses at least four beats, and it steals the oxygen from your lungs, along with the color from your face.

You stammer, eyes widening as your pulse picks up again and pounds in your ears. “Don’t—don’t say shit like that. I swear to God, I’ll actually fuck you up. Stop—lying to me.”

“What the fuck, ___? I’m not lying to you,” Jeongguk’s voice attempts to be steady but it can’t hide the desperation, as if he’s holding on by a thread. “Why would I?”

The question is simple.

Why would Jeongguk lie to you? Does he have a reason to fake this?

The world seems to tilt, the ground beneath you shifting in some irreparable way.

You should feel scared. You should feel repulsed at the thought of commitment, the weight of his words pressing against you like a cage. But you don’t.

Instead, your eyes dart between his, searching for cracks in his sincerity, like a frantic spectator watching a tennis match, every glance like a volley in the game of something bigger than either of you. The matchpoint sends a thrill through your chest, something overwhelming and terrifying but not unwelcome.

Jeongguk watches you closely, feeling the weight of the silence between you stretch on longer than he can handle. He knows he’s the one that should break it, knows the truth he’s holding inside has to be spoken now.

It’s now or never. He can’t keep pretending—this isn’t just some casual thing to him, and he’s not ready to let it slip away without a fight. You’ve become everything he didn’t know he needed, and yet here he is, paralyzed by the fear of rejection, of being vulnerable, of watching the one thing he wants most slip right through his fingers.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? If he doesn’t speak up now, he’ll lose everything. His fear has no place in this moment anymore.

It’s a long exhale before his voice drops in soft honey, shaking with the weight of the truth, “Look. I know it’s hard to trust me. You’ve seen me fuck up multiple times over this stuff. But I want to stop this cycle. I want to allow myself something good,” his eyes search for any signal that he should stop talking, but in yours he finds every reason for him not to, “And you’re everything good that life will ever concede me. I can't… I can't let you go. I can't lose you.”

"Jeongguk…" His name slips from your lips like a prayer you've been too afraid to speak aloud until now. But you see it— he’s ready to find every solution, even if it means confronting the fear that has held him back for so long.

“I like you so much it’s killing me,” he admits, voice low and raw, every syllable cracking with vulnerability.

It’s a slow realization, like a tide that comes in quietly, softly. You’ve felt its caress for so long, and now that it embraces you wholly, you feel your heart expand, filling with the same warmth, the same longing.

The words you wish you could say are caught in your throat. You look up at him, eyes wide, trying to comprehend, to take in what he’s offering. You’re almost afraid to ask, as if the answer will shatter something you’ve worked so hard to protect, “You like me?”

“I lose my fucking mind when it comes to you.” His confession is a rush of honesty that sweeps through you, his eyes not leaving yours, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks.

The world feels like it’s slowing down. There’s so much you’ve been holding back, but you don’t know how to make the words fit, how to make them sound right.

Jeongguk takes a small step back, his voice quieter but still heavy with emotion. “It’s okay if you wanna end it here,” he murmurs, his words barely above a whisper, like he’s bracing for the worst. “At least it wasn’t because you got with some other stupid guy.”

You shake your head, the thought of losing him too painful to bear. “Stop—” You let out a frustrated sigh, hands curling into fists at your sides. “God, you’re so dumb. This could have been so much easier if you’d told me sooner.”

He looks at you, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”

You feel your chest tighten, the truth slipping out before you can stop it. “I like you too,” you admit, the words finally leaving your lips hastly, like they were just waiting for the right moment. “I agreed to the date because I thought you were still… fucking around.”

His face softens, and there’s a flash of relief in his eyes. “I wasn’t. Haven’t been in so long.”

“...No Haeun?”

“Hell no. I don’t want no kiss if it isn’t from you.”

You laugh, a low sound that fills the air between you. “Cheesy fucker,” you tease, but there’s a warmth in your chest now, a feeling you can’t ignore. “Well, if you want to know, I wasn’t seeing anybody either. Namjoon asked me out randomly, but I haven’t been with anyone else since… this started.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, everything is quiet. He looks at you like he’s just heard something he never expected to hear. “Oh,” he says softly.

“Yeah.”

Jeongguk steps closer to you, his hands reaching for you, voice thick, “I’m so sorry, baby. I never meant to make you cry. It’s breaking my heart.” His thumb brushes across your cheek, gently wiping away the remnants of the tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, your heart swelling with both regret and tenderness. “It’s okay,” you say softly. “I’m sorry for yelling all that stuff at you. I don’t hate you. I…”

Before you can finish, his lips crash against yours, and all the confusion, all the fears, prove themselves to be worth this moment.

They dissolve into something real, the kiss trying to make up for lost time, for all the things left unsaid.

When you pull away, your foreheads resting together, Jeongguk’s voice is quiet but determined. “Come here, baby. You’re mine.”

“Prove it.”

[classyrbf]

DO I LOOK LIKE HIM! #2 — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...all his life it was just him and his mother, his father nowhere to be seen or found, vanished, a ghost. No one ever spoke a word of him, he didn’t even know his name. But deep down he begs for answers as his mother always said that he looked just like ‘him’

INFO...megumi x mom!reader, toji x reader, angst, family issues/trauma, absent father, implications of suicidal thoughts, talks of depression, toji is an assassin/in a gang, implications of murder, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

part 1

It was a chilly Saturday morning. The birds chirped as snow fell from the sky, laying a thick blanket across the trees and ground. Megumi was still asleep while you cooked breakfast for him like you always did. His favorite being eggs, hash browns and bacon. Two weeks ago you could’ve sworn your relationship with your son was ruined, came crashing down when he found out about his father. Toji Fushiguro. Though, it only seems like the situation only brought you closer than ever. He kept asking you about him, what he was really like, how he talked, what he used to wear, did he play any sports. He asked everything. And you told him everything.

You didn’t forget one detail about Toji. From the fifteen years that he’s been gone, you still remember every detail on his face like it was just yesterday. You remember the exact clothes he was wearing the night he left and you remember the look in his eyes when he walked out the door while you pleaded for him not to go. Fifteen years and it still breaks your heart to remember. Sometimes you wished you forgotten about him. Every since then you haven’t been with anyone else. You’ve tried and failed. Went on dates, went out to clubs and bars, whatever it was, but no one was him. No one was your Toji.

Some of your high school friends live happy lives, married, nice house and car with a big family and of course the family pet. But you never got your fairytale ending. You didn’t get the easy way like everyone else. It was just you and your son the entire time and whatever hardships you endured, it was for him. After Toji left you fell into a depression. You never left the house unless it was to get groceries or other essentials, but otherwise you were cooped up. It was just you and your son. Crying yourself to sleep every night seemed like the only option you had at that time. Wasting hours trying to call Toji only for it to go straight to voicemail. You prayed he come back for you two. But he didn’t. Years and years went by and you lost hope. You believed he was dead and maybe he was.

You loved Megumi so much. Everything you did was for him, every battle fought. He was the reason you kept going. He couldn’t grow up without a mother and a father. He doesn’t know that he’s saved your life.

“Mom?” You hear your sons groggy voice as he walks into the kitchen. You glance over your shoulder and laugh at the way he stands there, his hair messy and one of his eyes barely open.

“Morning, Megs. I’m just making you breakfast.” You smile. He hums in response, turning back around and dragging his feet into the bathroom. Even down to the mannerisms he acts exactly like him. You shake your head with a laugh, turning the stove off and grabbing his plate to toss the scrambled eggs on top. “Megs, your food is on the table when you’re done!” You shout. You run over to the fridge, grabbing the orange juice and pouring him a glass when the doorbell rings. “Hold on!”

Putting the juice away, you walk over to the door with the glass in hand. “Who is it?” You ask.

“It’s me.” A voice speaks. It almost sounds recognizable, but not. Your brows furrow while undoing the locks and when you open the door, the frigid air cuts through the warmth of your house and surrounds you.

“You must have the wrong—” As you look up, your eyes widen and the glass drops from your hair, shattering against the wooden floor. Your mouth opens to say something but not a word comes out. It was like you were stuck, frozen. Tears filled your eyes as you took in the man who was standing in front of you. “Toji…?” You utter, bringing a shaky hand up to your mouth.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He grew slightly taller, his hair shorter and you can see the slight wrinkles in his face. He was a lot more muscular too, but nonetheless he still looked like him.

“Oh my god!” You jump into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Toji!” You sobbed. Being in his embrace felt so natural despite how long it’s been. He hugged you back, clenching his eyes shut as he breathed in your scent.

“Mom?! What was that?!” Megumi came rushing out the bathroom running towards where he heard the glass break. Instead, he halted in his steps when he saw the familiar face he only recently learned from photos. “Dad?”

Toji opened his eyes, his expression dropping when he saw Megumi standing there in front of him. You removed yourself from his arms, turning to see your son standing there with tears in his eyes. “Megs, it’s your dad.” You smiled, wiping your tears.

And Toji couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It was like he was looking at a younger version of himself. But he couldn’t wrap his head around it. He knows it’s been fifteen years, but he was still expecting to see his two year old son walking towards him. Toji stepped into the house, slowly walking towards Megumi, hesitating to say or do anything until Megumi jumped into arms. “Dad!” He cried.

Toji clung to his son, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” He muttered against his hair. “Please forgive me.” He breathed. You stood there with pursed lips watching the two of them reunited, but hearing Toji’s apologies broke your heart. “I never wanted to leave you. You understand me?” Toji pulled Megumi away so that he was looking at him. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Ive missed you too.” Megumi nodded his head wiping his tears. “Mom told me. She told me everything. I don’t blame you, dad.” He sniffled, shaking his head. Toji looked towards you his eyes softening. It’s like you could see everything within him. All the regret, the sadness, the anger he’s been holding within him for all this time.

He stepped towards you, cupping your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours. “You still look so beautiful.” He smiled. “I never once stopped thinking about you.” He said, holding back tears. “You and Megs were always with me. I’m sorry for leaving you, baby.” He hugged you.

It was hard not to cry. You couldn’t hold in your emotions. Not anymore. Everything that you’ve been holding back was finally letting out. You missed him. You missed seeing him with Megumi. You missed his voice, his scent, his everything. “It was so hard, Toji.” You cried. “I needed you. We needed you.”

“I know, I know.” He kissed the top of your head, gently rubbing your back. “Be angry with me, do whatever you want to me. I’m just happy to have you both back.”

You could never hate him. That was never a thought in your head. You could never hate the man you love. All you could do was understand him and his pain. He was hurting just as much as you. He left to protect you and your son. “I thought you were dead.” Your voice broke through your sobs. “I thought…”

“Shhh, shhh, I’m here now,” he whispered. “I’m right here.” He kissed you again. “Come here, little man.” Toji opened his arm, allowing Megumi to hug him.

Toji thought he’d never live to see this day. He began losing hope, drowning in his fears and bad choices. When he left, he remembered your cries, carrying that hurt in his heart for years. He only dug himself into a deeper hole trying to get out of it. Trying to protect you and Megs, he did unspeakable things, shit that left him traumatized. The amount of blood on his hands was staggering. But it was all just to have his family back.

That life was well behind him now. It’s been behind him for months. All this he’s been looking for you, jumping through hoops to even get a glimpse of you and Megumi. He wouldn’t have blamed you if you moved on, if you found someone else and replaced him, deciding to leave this hellish place. But you stayed. Despite everything, you stayed.

“You’ve gotten so damn big.” Toji eyes scanned over Megumi. “About as tall as me.” He laughed.

“Yeah, well, I do look exactly like you.” He shrugged, smiling. “I’ve been hearing it my whole life. It’s finally nice to see the original.”

“The original, huh? I ain’t that damn old,” he scoffed.

Seeing them already get along and bicker with each other like it came naturally gave you a warm feeling in your chest. You’ve never seen Megumi’s eyes so full of life, like he found his other half. And in a sense, he did. You did as well. All of you did.

“We have a lot of catching up to do.” Toji ruffled Megumi’s hair. “A lot.”

“I know. But can you promise me one thing?” Megumi asked.

“Of course.” Toji was quick to answer.

“Please, don’t leave me again. I don’t care what it is. Promise me you’ll never leave me, dad.” Megumi nervously began biting the skin off of his bottom lip.

Toji stared at his son. “I promise.”

a/n: a lot of you wanted a part 2 so I made one. I hope it lived up to the expectations tbh cause I wasn’t really sure what y’all wanted to me to write

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 3

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

Chapter warnings: GRAB YOUR TISSUES!, this bitch is a whole ass kdrama episode and it’s gonna hurt before it gets better, happy ending tho!, themes of self-loathing, anxiety, and depression (MC), severe postpartum depression (not MC), it’s monsoon season and namgi don’t like umbrellas, (____) in the rain cliche scene, NAMTIDDIES because I can’t help myself, lastly… watch me morph this into another workplace romance/co-workers to lovers story lmao (real)

Word count: ~7k

Posting date: November 21, 2024

Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. 

I am a clown 🤡 and a liar 🤥 From pretending this is a two-shot, then a three-shot. It has become a chaptered series, atp. There is a part 4 in the works and I fully intend to end it there, but again, I may have just jinxed myself. Anyway! Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |  Masterlist

“She’s Haneul’s mom.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

“What?”

“Sung Kyung and Yoongi… they’ve been good friends for years,” Namjoon explains quickly, his tone almost apologetic. “I didn’t think they were dating. But yeah, she’s his mom. She left for months and when she came back, she'd already given birth.”

You feel like the ground has been ripped out from under you. What Namjoon said made no sense. You clutch the edge of the counter, your mind racing. “What do you mean she left…?” You have never been more confused in your entire life.

Namjoon sighs. “I don’t know all the details. You know hyung, he tells you what he thinks you need to know. The rest, he keeps to himself. But I do know they did the paternity tests and everything, and Haneul’s his, theirs.”

Theirs. It’s easier if Namjoon just slices your heart open at this rate. 

He places a tentative hand on your shoulder. “It’s better to hear it straight from Yoongi-hyung, since you guys are, you know.”

“I– I don’t know. I don’t know what we are,” you say, leaning your weight sideways against the wall to steady yourself. 

Get a grip. It’s Haneul’s day. 

Namjoon stands to shield you from the rest, in case anybody chances to look your way. You probably look like you’re about to puke. You definitely feel like it.

“Joonie…” Your voice is small when you ask, “Do you think she wants to come back now?”

Namjoon lifts his shoulder, lets it sag, “I don’t know. Maybe. She wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Your chest tightens, a wave of insecurity crashing over you. Of course, she would want to come back now. She’s beautiful, successful, everything you’re not. And most importantly, she’s Haneul’s mother. That’s the kicker. How can you compete with that?

Spoiler alert: you can’t.

When you step back into the living room, the first thing you notice is Yoongi’s mom. She’s standing off to the side, her lips pressed into a thin line as she glares at Sung Kyung from across the room with a mixture of disapproval and barely-contained irritation.

“She shouldn’t be here,” she says quietly, her voice cold and clipped.

“Eomma,” Yoongi grits.

“She abandoned Haneul, Yoongi,” his mom hisses, her tone sharper now. “And she thinks she can just come here like nothing happened?”

Yoongi sighs, his hand briefly brushing his mother’s arm in a silent plea for calm. “Not here, eomma. Please. It’s Haneul’s birthday. Don’t make a scene.”

Of course he is siding with her.

You’re unable to tear your eyes away from Sung Kyung. How can she look so beautiful even if she looks miserable? She exchanges a few more quiet words with Yoongi near the door, her expression alternating between frustration and what looks like regret. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but you catch the way Yoongi’s shoulders stiffen, the way his jaw tightens as she reaches out to brush his arm. You see Yoongi nod, and you’re so curious, what is he agreeing to?

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she leaves. The door is closed, but for sure this chapter isn’t. Not even close.

You entertain yourself by watching some of the BTS members play some video games. Their antics, as funny as they are, don’t really register. Your laughs are hollow, mind totally elsewhere. It’s a while before Yoongi finally finds you, after he disappeared to his studio after Sung Kyung left and went MIA for half an hour or so.

He corners you near the snack table as you pretend to be engrossed in arranging leftover cupcakes.

“Hey,” he says softly, touching your arm lightly.

You turn to face him, your smile brittle. “Hey. How’s everything going?”

“Can we talk?”

You nod, following him toward the hallway, away from the laughter and chatter. The noise completely fades as you enter his soundproof studio and he turns to face you.

He exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to talk to you,” he says carefully, like he’s choosing every word with precision.

“About Sung Kyung.” you offer. He nods, shoulders visibly tense. “Yeah. And Haneul.”

The mention of Haneul makes your chest tighten, but you steady yourself, waiting for him to continue.

“She and I… we were close for a long time,” he begins, his gaze dropping to the floor. “And yeah, there was a point where I thought it was going somewhere. But then she just… disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“She left Korea. No warning, no explanation. Just… ghosted.” He shrugs. “I didn’t know where she went or why. She didn’t contact me for months.”

“And then one day,” he continues, “she called. Told me she just gave birth to a son. That it was mine.”

The words hang between you, heavy and jarring. You don’t say anything, letting him get it all out.

“She didn’t tell me she was pregnant,” he says, shaking his head as if he still can’t believe it. “I literally only found out after he was born.”

You feel a pang of sympathy, but then you’re also feeling angry at Sung Kyung. “Why did she wait so long to tell you?”

“She said she didn’t want to burden me. I was already doing my military service and I had that thing… that case. She thought she could handle it on her own.” He looks up at you then, his eyes dark and conflicted. “But after she had him… she couldn’t. She fell into really severe postpartum depression and some other health issues, basically telling me she was diagnosed unfit to take care of him.”

Your throat tightens, and you clasp your hands together to keep them from shaking. “So you stepped in.”

He nods, “I didn’t have a choice. Haneul needed someone, and I couldn’t—I wouldn’t turn my back on him. He’s my son. It was confirmed by a paternity test.”

“And now she’s back,” you say, more a statement than a question.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, dragging a hand down his face. “She says she’s better. That she wants to be in his life now. That she can be. And honestly… I don’t know what to do.”

You study him for a moment, your emotions warring between compassion and your own sense of inadequacy. “What do you want, Yoongi? Not for her, not for Haneul. What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, gnawing his lip before he says, “I just… I want to do what’s right for Haneul.”

The words cut deeper than you expected, but you force a small smile, nodding as if they don’t sting. “That makes sense.”

Yoongi takes a step closer as he studies your face. “But what about you?” he asks, his voice almost too gentle. “How are you feeling about all this?”

The sincerity in his question takes you off guard, and for a moment, you’re tempted to tell him everything. The ache in your chest, the jealousy you hate admitting to, the fear of losing whatever connection the two of you have built. But instead, you plaster on a smile, shoving all those emotions into a corner of your mind.

“I’m fine,” you say lightly. “It’s Haneul’s birthday. That’s what matters.”

Yoongi doesn’t look convinced, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s trying to read the truth in your expression. But after a moment, he nods, letting it drop. “Okay.”

Finally, you glance at the door, forcing yourself to straighten up. “We should probably get back to the party.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi says, stepping aside to let you pass. But as you reach for the door, his voice stops you.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

You turn back, your brows furrowing. “For what?”

“For everything,” he says, his eyes filled with something you can’t quite name.

You don’t know how to respond, so you just nod. Because his words—why did it feel like a goodbye?

The rest of the party passes in a blur. You keep smiling, keep laughing, keep pretending everything is fine. You stand by as Yoongi helps Haneul blow out his single candle, snapping pictures of his chubby hands smashing into the frosting. 

You’re wiping stray frosting from Haneul’s cheek when you glance at him and for a split second, you see her. Sung Kyung’s face is right there, faint but unmistakable, in the shape of his eyes and the curve of his brows.

The realization hits you like a freight train. You freeze, the cloth clutched in your hand, staring at this beautiful baby boy who isn’t yours. Who will never be yours.

It’s too much. You set the muslin down, excusing yourself to the kitchen with a muttered, “I’ll grab more drinks.”

You don’t even make it to the fridge. You stand there by the counter, gripping its edge as you force yourself to breathe, to keep the tears at bay. You’ve never felt more out of place in your life.

Namjoon finds you a few moments later, leaning against the doorway with a quiet, watchful look. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask if you’re okay. He just stays there, close but not too close, his presence steady and silent. You appreciate him for that—for knowing exactly what you need when you’re unraveling. He’s your best friend after all.

But even his quiet support isn’t enough to keep the emotions at bay.

Across the room, Yoongi’s eomma catches your eye. There’s something pitying in the glances she throws your way, a faint furrow of her brow that makes you want to sink into the floor. You had the feeling she knows there’s something between you and Yoongi, but now… now it feels like she’s seeing through you, like she knows exactly how small you’re starting to feel.

Because the truth is, you’re nothing.

You’re not Haneul’s mom. You’re not Yoongi’s girlfriend. You’re just someone who helps out when it’s convenient, and now that they have a nanny, you’re not even that. And it hurts. God, it hurts because you thought—maybe foolishly, maybe selfishly—that you were becoming something more. That you were becoming someone to them. That, maybe, you were becoming a family.

But now, as you stand there watching Yoongi carry Haneul to his room, barely sparing you a glance, the truth sinks in like a stone in your chest. You’re not someone. You’re a placeholder. A stand-in.

And pretty soon, just like Jiyong, they’re going to discard you. Because that’s what always happens. You’re always easy to leave behind. Always replaceable. Always useless.

The thought claws at you, and you suddenly can’t breathe. You grab your things and run. The cool night air stings your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in your chest.

The tears come before you can stop them, hot and angry and full of every ounce of self-loathing you’ve tried to bury.

You glance back at the building. Maybe for the last time. You’re on the outside now—of course you are. You’ve been on the outside this entire time.

Namjoon must have noticed you were gone because he texted shortly after:

Joonie: You okay? Joonie: Don’t worry, I told them you weren’t feeling well. Go home and rest. Text me when you’re there.

That night, you ignored Yoongi’s call. You stared at the screen as his name lit up, your finger hovering over the answer button before you let it ring out. He left a voicemail. You deleted it without listening.

The next morning, you wake up to another call from him. This time, he doesn’t leave a voicemail. Instead, he sends a message.

Yoongi: Can I come over?

You stare at the text for a long time, your stomach twisting with guilt and anger and sadness. Finally, you type out a single word:

You: No

You throw your phone face-down on the couch, ignoring the way it buzzes again and again and again.

For the next few days, you ghost him.

It wasn’t easy. Every time your phone buzzes, you feel a pang of guilt, a deep ache that gnaws at your resolve. But you can’t bring yourself to answer. You need time. You need to figure out where you stood in all of this.

His messages come sporadically at first:

Yoongi: Hey, can we talk? Yoongi: I don’t know what I did wrong, but I want to fix it. Yoongi: Please. Just let me know you’re okay.

You delete most of them without reading too much into them. But then he starts sending pictures.

The first was of Haneul, grinning in his chair, wearing the capybara slippers you’d gifted him for his birthday.

Yoongi: Haneul misses you

The next day, another photo. This time, Haneul was lying on his playmat, still wearing the slippers, holding onto Bora.

Yoongi: Still missing you

Each message chips away at your resolve, but the one that breaks you comes Thursday evening:

A short video clip. In it, Haneul is sitting on the floor, babbling as he clutches Bora. And then, clear as day, he says it:

“Sa-ra.”

Your heart twists painfully. It’s clipped, but it’s unmistakably sarang. Your term of endearment for him, the nickname you’d called him since he started smiling every time he heard it. He’d never been able to say it back—not until now.

And Yoongi knows exactly what he is doing, sending this to you.

You stare at the screen for what feels like an eternity, leaving the video on loop, before finally opening your call log. His name was right at the top, of course. You hit the call button, your hands trembling as you bring the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” Yoongi’s voice comes through almost immediately.

You exhale shakily. “Hi.”

There was a pause. Then he speaks again, and you can hear his vulnerability. “I didn’t think you’d call back.”

You close your eyes, trying to steady yourself. “How could I ignore that video? Haneul… he said sarang.”

“Yeah, he’s been saying it non-stop since yesterday.”

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “Yoongi… about… us.”

“Mmh?” He didn’t interrupt, didn’t rush you. He just waited.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began. “Haneul deserves to have a complete family. He deserves to know his mom, to have her in his life. If—if that’s what you both want.”

Yoongi was quiet for a long moment before he finally responded. “But… he needs you, too.”

Before you can back out, “Yoongi, I need space,” you say finally, your voice trembling.

There was a pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “Okay.”

It wasn’t a protest. It wasn’t an argument. Just… okay. It’s the most ‘Yoongi’ reaction to things, and you hate it. You hate it so much.

You hang up, staring at the screen until it goes dark. Your chest felt heavy, your heart splintering in ways you didn’t know it could.

You’d told him you needed space and he said okay. The truth is, when you said space, you just wanted him to make room for you. To assure you that you belong with them. That there is a seat, warm and yours. But he didn’t.

You miss Yoongi so much it feels like a physical ache. But it’s not just him. You miss Haneul’s face, his giggles, his sleepy weight in your arms. 

Namjoon has been doing his best to check in. He sends you UberEats nearly every other day, a steady stream of meals you barely touch. The one time he came over, unannounced, he walked into what could only be described as a disaster.

“Jesus Christ,” Namjoon muttered, kicking a stray box out of his way as he entered your apartment. The laundry basket was overflowing, your trash can piled up. You were in a 2-day old shirt, hair a rat’s nest, and you’re slouched on the couch with an empty brain.

Namjoon stared at you, his disappointment radiating off him. “Y/N, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, barely looking at him.

He scoffed. “Fine? You look like you’ve been run over by a truck. Twice.”

“So dramatic.” You rolled your eyes, but the truth of his words stung.

Namjoon crouched in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. “Move in with me for now. You know I have the space. You can’t stay here like this. It’s not healthy.”

“I’m not moving in with you, Joon,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m not your charity case.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re not a charity case. You’re my best friend. And I’m not gonna sit back and watch you drown in your own misery.”

“I’m not gonna live in your and Soyeon’s sex den,” you snapped unnecessarily.

Namjoon just looked at you, shook his head, before he flopped beside you on the couch. He fed you, forced you to go take a shower, and watched some shitty reality show with you. He eventually left, though you could feel the weight of his disappointment long after the door shut behind him. If he only knew how thankful you were of those visits.

A week later, you find yourself standing in front of Yoongi’s apartment. You didn’t plan this. You don’t even know what you’re hoping to achieve by being here. All you know is that the ache of missing them—missing him—has become unbearable.

You knock on the door before you can second-guess yourself.

Mrs. Kwon opens it, her expression immediately uneasy. “Y/N,” she says, her tone cautious. “You should come back another time.”

“Why?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.

She hesitates, her lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s just… not a good time.”

“I need to see them,” you insist, stepping forward.

“My dear girl, please listen—”

But you’re already past her, your determination overriding her warnings.

When you step into the living room–

Fuck.

There she is. Sung Kyung, sitting on the floor with Haneul in her lap, holding a plush toy you don’t recognize. She’s smiling at him, her voice soft as she tries to coax him into playing with it. Adding salt to the wound–Bora, the capybara plush you gave Haneul, is discarded carelessly in the corner near the diaper pail.

Your heart stops, and before you can control yourself, you take a step back, your movement catching Sung Kyung’s attention. She looks up, confused. She doesn’t know you, why would she? 

Yoongi’s voice comes from behind you, and you turn to see him emerging from his studio, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Who rang the—”

His eyes widen when he sees you, but you’re already moving, your feet carrying you toward the door in a blind rush.

“Wait—Y/N!”

You barely hear him as you bend down and snatch Bora from the floor. Haneul’s voice suddenly cuts through the air, his tiny, excited voice calling out, “Sa-ra! Sa-ra!”

Tears blur your vision as you wrench the door open and run, Yoongi’s voice calling after you, but you don’t stop.

It’s raining when you step outside. Great, because this day couldn’t get any worse. The cold droplets soak through your clothes almost instantly. You don’t have an umbrella, but you don’t give a shit. Tears stream down your face mixing with the rain.

You don’t know how far you get before you feel it—a warmth against your back, arms wrapping around you tightly.

Yoongi’s voice cracks as he says your name, his rain-soaked body like a furnace against your shivering frame. “Please.”

He sounds like he is begging, but why? What is he asking? What does he want from you?

You shake your head, your voice breaking. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Then why did you?” he asks, his tone desperate, his chest heaving as he pulls you tighter.

“Because I thought… I thought I had a place here. But I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads, his voice barely audible over the rain as he turns you to face him. His hands come up to cradle your face. He was starting to shake too, the pads of his fingers damp against your skin. His eyes search yours, desperate, and before you can stop him—or yourself—he closes the space between you and kisses you.

Against the pouring rain, your lips press against each other, clumsy, shaky, unexpectedly urgent. His lips move like he’s trying to say all the things he can’t find the words for, like this is his only way to make you understand. And for a second, maybe a minute, maybe more, you let him.

You feel his ragged breaths as he licks into your mouth, his hair brushing your temple, droplets trailing down your skin. His hand slides from your cheek to the nape of your neck, fingers threading gently through your wet hair. It’s tender and fierce all at once, like he’s afraid you might vanish if he lets go.

But there is a tinge of bitterness cutting through the taste of his kiss. This isn’t enough—not to fix everything, not to erase the doubt clawing at the edges of your mind. Not to prevent the new thoughts from worming its way inside.

Sung Kyung is in his apartment right now. So maybe it’s not just about Haneul anymore. Maybe they’re reconciling. Trying to sort out their own feelings that they put on ice. Yoongi did say he thought their relationship was going somewhere. 

God, you do not want to be some homewrecker. You cannot do that to Haneul. Weakly you try to pull back. 

But Yoongi doesn’t let you. His lips chase yours, teeth gently sinking into your plush and you’re unable to stifle the moan from your mouth at the delicious sting. You open up to him, lips sliding against his as his other hand grips your waist now, pulling you closer until you can really feel the heat of his body through the drenched fabric of his clothes. The world feels like it’s spinning, everything is blending into a dizzying blur, and you don’t know how to stop it.

Your hand hovers at his chest, not pushing him away but not pulling him closer either. Your heart is screaming to hold on just a little longer. But your head is telling you—

“No,” you whisper, breaking away as quickly as you can without slipping on the slick ground. Your chest heaves as you clutch Bora tighter against you.

Yoongi stands frozen, his lips parted as if he’s about to speak, his dark eyes locked on yours. The rain clings to his lashes, his hair plastered to his forehead, and for a moment, he looks completely lost.

“I can’t do this, Yoongi,” you choke out, your voice shaking. “I just… I can’t.”

And before he can stop you, you turn and run again, your feet splashing through puddles as you make your way to the nearest bus stop. By some miracle, you make your way home in one piece. Barring one vital organ that’s discarded somewhere in Hannam.

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I Got out of bed at all The morning rain clouds up my window And I can't see at all And even if I could, it'd all be gray But your picture on my wall It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad - Stan, Eminem

Your apartment is cold and quiet, the soft patter of rain against the windows the only sound. The mug of tea on your table has long since gone cold, untouched, as you sit curled up on the couch, staring at that grainy selca Yoongi sent you weeks ago. 

You’re startled out of your thoughts by the sound of the door opening. Namjoon steps in, shaking off the rain and holding a grocery bag in one hand, his hoodie slung over his shoulder. He’s soaked to the bone, but he flashes you his dimples anyway.

“You know,” he starts, setting the bag on the counter, “for someone who always claims they’re fine, you sure as hell don’t look it.”

“Don’t start, Joon,” you mumble, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

Namjoon ignores you, glancing around the apartment with a disapproving look. “Seriously? It still looks like you just moved in. No decorations, no warmth. This part could be a photo wall or something…”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, Mr. Art influencer.”

“I need a dry shirt,” he says, gripping the edge of his tee and pulling it up and over his head without fanfare.

You’ve never felt attracted to your best friend in any physical or sexual way ever (seriously, ew), but you can appreciate a good physique when you see one.

“Wow, Joonie, are your tiddies getting bigger?” you say as you stand to find a shirt for him from your makeshift closet.

“You’re an idiot.”

Before you can respond, the doorbell rings. Namjoon straightens, wiping his hands on his pants. “You expecting someone?”

You shake your head.

Namjoon strides to the door, glancing through the peephole with a tsk before pulling it open. He doesn’t seem to care that he’s shirtless, which would be awkward enough if it were anyone else standing there. 

But it’s Yoongi.

Yoongi stands in the hallway, his expression strained, his eyes immediately scanning the room behind Namjoon until they land on you, curled on the couch. You clutch the t-shirt you were about to lend Namjoon tighter against your chest, unsure whether to feel relief, anger, or the painful longing that’s been gnawing at you for days.

“I need to talk to her,” Yoongi says, his voice calm but heavy with emotion.

Namjoon steps into the doorway, crossing his arms as he blocks the entrance. “Maybe not today, hyung.”

Yoongi’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t flinch. “I have to. I need to explain.”

Namjoon doesn’t budge, his voice soft but firm. “Sorry, hyung. Not after everything.”

Yoongi’s eyes flick to you again, desperate. “I just… fuck,” He swallows hard, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t let her think she doesn’t matter to me. She does. More than anyone.”

Namjoon hesitates for the first time, glancing back at you. His expression softens briefly, but when he turns to Yoongi again, it’s your voice that responds.

“Yoongi.” Your voice is quiet, but it cuts through the tension like a blade. Both men turn to you, and the hope that flashes across Yoongi’s face makes your lungs shrivel.

You grip the fabric in your hands tighter, willing yourself to stay firm. “You should go.”

Yoongi’s lips part as if to argue, but the look in your eyes silences him. He nods once, slowly, his expression crumbling for just a moment before he turns away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it.

Namjoon watches him for a moment longer before stepping back into the apartment and shutting the door.

The first step is always the hardest.

Namjoon didn’t sugarcoat anything when he told you to get your shit together. “I love you,” he said bluntly after Yoongi left that rainy night, “but you’re the only one who can pull yourself out of this. No one else is coming to save you. Not me. Not Jiyong. Not Yoongi. Just you.”

You hated hearing it, but he was right.

So you took the first step: you called a therapist. Twice a week, you sat in that tiny, clinical room and talked about everything you’d buried for years. The abandonment issues you’d carried since childhood. The shame you felt after your relationship with Jiyong fell apart. The way you constantly give pieces of yourself to others, just like you did with Haneul and Yoongi, leaving nothing for yourself. Thinking that’s okay.

Session by session, the fog began to lift. Slowly, you started to understand that happiness couldn’t come from someone else, no matter how deeply you loved them. It had to come from you—built piece by piece, nurtured, protected.

You realized that loving yourself wasn’t selfish. It was necessary. And for the first time in months, you began to believe you were worthy of it.

At home, you started small. One night, you finally tackled the pile of laundry that had been haunting you for weeks. Another night, you scrubbed down the kitchen until the counters gleamed. And then one weekend, you went to IKEA and bought a bed frame—not just a functional one, but a beautiful one that made you feel excited to wake up in the mornings.

You even hung up paintings on the walls, little pops of color that made the apartment feel like it was actually yours. Namjoon gave you some from his collection, too.

Running sucks, but it became your nightly ritual. At first, it was hard. Your legs ached, and your lungs burned. But the more you pushed yourself, the better it felt—the rush of endorphins, the rhythm of your feet hitting the pavement, the way your thoughts quieted for just a little while.

Bit by bit, you started to feel lighter. Like you were shedding layers of weight you didn’t even realize you were carrying.

And then there was Yoongi.

He was still a constant name on your phone, though the tone of his messages had shifted over time. At first, his texts were full of apologies and pleas for a second chance:

Yoongi: I know I messed up. Please let me make it right.

Yoongi: I’m sorry for everything. I hate that I hurt you.

Yoongi: I need you, Y/N. I should have told you sooner.

Yoongi: Can I come over? I really want to explain everything.

Yoongi: I’m an idiot.

Yoongi: I’ll wait for you. Just tell me when you’re ready to talk.

Then came the texts about Haneul:

Yoongi: Haneul misses you. Not to one-up my own kid, but I miss you more.

Yoongi: Han said your name today. He kept pointing at the door like he was waiting for you to walk in.

Yoongi: I bought him a new Bora. This giraffe is lame. [image attached]

Yoongi: Han’s been carrying Bora 2.0 everywhere. He even tried to feed it rice last night.

And now, weeks later, his messages had settled into something different.

Yoongi: I was in the studio all day, and Hobi made me take a break. We ended up eating too much fried chicken and now I have a zit.

Yoongi: How was your run today? Namjoonah says you’re joining a mini marathon. Good luck!

Yoongi: Still have boxes of Silver Moon tea. It’s too bougie for my ghetto taste buds. Lmk if you want it. Yoongi: Actually, no need. I'll send it thru Namjoonah.

Yoongi: I fucked up the choreography to our new track at Mubank today like an amateur. I hope you didn’t get to watch it.

They were simple, almost mundane. But Yoongi’s texts had a way of hitting you square in the chest. You think back to that conversation in his home, the one where he admitted how lonely he sometimes felt—how he wished for someone to talk to about the little things, the big milestones, everything in between. Someone to share life with. And now, with every message he sends, it feels like he’s choosing you.

Even though weeks have passed without seeing him, he’s still there. Reaching out. Trying to stay connected. Even when you never reply.

But his messages have become tiny bursts of dopamine in your otherwise quiet days. You’re both surprised and relieved he hasn’t stopped trying, that he hasn’t grown tired of pouring himself into the void of your Kakao.

Namjoon told you recently that Yoongi and Sung Kyung have started co-parenting Haneul. She gets supervised visits twice a month. At first, the green-eyed monster threatened to come out. But your best friend tells you that Yoongi never wanted to rekindle anything with Sung Kyung, which gave you some peace. Maybe if you’d been braver back then, you could’ve asked Yoongi yourself. Maybe if Yoongi had been better at communicating, he would have told you then it wouldn’t have felt like such an uphill climb.

But, he was also having such a difficult time, sorting through his own circumstances. And your insecurities at the time were too heavy, too overwhelming to sift through. You probably wouldn’t have believed him then. The progress you’ve made now—to love yourself first—feels hard-won and necessary. And maybe Yoongi also needed to go on a journey to really know what he wants for him and Haneul.

You’ve come to realize through all this that you don’t really hate Sung Kyung. Maybe you were angry on behalf of Yoongi and Haneul for all the secrets she kept, for the ways her choices hurt them both. There was even a night when you found yourself doing a Naver search on postpartum depression. You hadn’t understood how debilitating it could be, how it could turn even the strongest person into a shell of themselves. It didn’t excuse everything, but it gave you perspective, especially as you battle your own demons.

Still, as you journey forward, there are moments when you imagine the “what ifs” with Yoongi, if Sung Kyung hadn't showed up that day. Sometimes, late at night, your mind drifts back to him. You replay his kiss, remembering the way it felt, the way he tasted. You can still conjure the image of his face under the rain, the way he looked at you in that fleeting, heart-wrenching moment.

You wonder if he thinks about it, too. You know he’s waiting. You just hope that when you’re finally ready to let him back in, he’ll still be there—on the other side, willing to try again.

One evening, Namjoon called, his tone unusually excited. “Hey, I’ve got something for you.”

“No, I don’t need more lube, I’m stocked,” you joked, just to be a piece of shit.

“Shut up and listen,” he said, laughing. “Hybe’s opening a daycare for employees’ kids. They need someone to run it. You’re perfect for this.”

Your stomach flipped. “What? Joonie, I don’t even—”

“Don’t even try to argue,” he interrupted. “You have a degree in early childhood education. You love kids. This was your literal job in the states. C’mon, this is made for you.”

“What if I’m not ready?”

Namjoon sighed. “You are. I’ve seen how much work you’ve been putting in. You’re stronger than you think. Just… apply. The worst they can do is say no.”

You’re quiet, so he added. “...and they won’t. I’ll have each member of Bangtan sign a recommendation letter for you.”

“You’re too much, Joonie,” you laugh. But you surely won’t put it past him to do that. “But ok, I’ll apply.”

So you did. And a week later, you got the call.

Your first day at Hybe’s daycare center feels like a dream you didn’t know you had. The space is beautiful—sunlight streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the colorful toys, tiny tables, and pastel murals. There are only three kids who pre-registered, but you were expecting more to walk in.

Namjoon is there, truly your ride or die, sitting casually on your desk with his ever-supportive grin. “You nervous?” 

“Nope,” you say, trying to sound confident. But the way your voice wavers gives you away.

Namjoon chuckles. “Relax. You’re going to crush this.”

Before you can respond, the door swings open, and in walks Hobi with Yunjin and their toddler, Jeongyeon. The little girl looks adorable in her sunflower-patterned overalls, her tiny pigtails bobbing as she walks toward the play area.

“Jeongyeon, say hi to teacher Y/N,” Yunjin says, gently guiding her forward.

“Hi!” Jeongyeon squeaks.

You crouch down to her level. “Hi, Jeongyeon! You’re gonna have so much fun today.”

“First kid of the day, ayeeee!" Hobi says, high-fiving Yunjin, before she runs to Jeongyeon who is mounting the toy pony. Then he turns to you, “Congratulations, Y/N.”

Just as they’re leaving, Namjoon nudges you. “By the way, did you know there’s a capybara mascot today?”

“What?” you blink, confused.

Before Namjoon can explain, something soft and warm suddenly envelops you in a hug. You turn to see a capybara mascot wrapping its plush arms around you, its giant head tilted adorably to the side.

“What the…” You laugh, surprised, grasping its arm. “Hybe really went all out, huh?”

Namjoon smirks. “Of course. First-day activations are a big deal here. And look at that, your favorite animal. What a coincidence.”

You grin, stepping back to look at the mascot. “Guess I’m a little biased, but this might be the cutest thing ever.”

The mascot gives you an exaggerated thumbs-up. 

Shortly, Haneul arrives. The moment you see him toddling through the door, all your nerves, all the weight you’d carried for weeks—gone. There’s no ache, no tension. Just pure, uncomplicated happiness.

His nanny, a kind older woman, walks him in, holding his hand as he peers curiously around the room.

Haneul bounds toward you giggling, his gummy smile stretching wide as he lets go of the nanny’s hand and waddles toward you.

“Hi, sarang,” you say, crouching down to scoop him into your arms. He smells like baby lotion and sunshine, and your chest feels full as he buries his face in your shoulder. “I missed you.”

You glance toward the door, your eyes darting around instinctively, but there’s no sign of Yoongi. A small pang of disappointment settles in your stomach before you shake it off. He’s probably holed up in his studio, working on something brilliant. It would have been nice to see him though.

The capybara mascot wanders over, drawing Haneul’s attention instantly. His eyes light up as he points at it, giggling.

“Appa!” Haneul says excitedly, punching the knee of the mascot with his tiny fists.

You laugh, brushing a hand through his soft hair. “That’s not your appa, Haneul. He’s probably in one of the big studios upstairs working very hard right now.”

The mascot gives you a pat on the head, and something about its movements feels oddly familiar. But you don’t dwell on it, too caught up in Haneul’s delighted squeals as the mascot does a little dance for him. It sure loves to shake its ass.

For the rest of the morning, you’re in your element, guiding the kids through activities, wiping tears, and singing songs during circle time. Every so often, Haneul points at the mascot and calls out “Appa!” again, and you can’t help but laugh.

And if the capybara mascot seems to hover a little longer around Haneul, or if it lingers near you whenever there’s a chance, well… you just chalk it up to coincidence.

(One day, much later, you’ll find out the truth. But for now, you’re content not knowing.)

That night, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out to find another message from Yoongi.

Yoongi: Congratulations on your first day!

You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. For the first time in weeks, as you look at your thread of messages from him, you let yourself smile—a small, cautious smile, but a smile nonetheless. And for the first time in months of radio silence, you type up your first reply to him.

You: Thanks, Yoongi. I’m really happy. :)

His reply came almost immediately.

Yoongi: You deserve it

And it may have taken a while, but you finally believe that. So you decide you are also finally ready to do this.

You: Can we talk? Yoongi: giv me 10 mins im cming overr

:)

A/N: 

Alright!! Wheeeew! You good? How are you feeling?!?!? As usual, please sound off in the comments. 💕

I just want to say that am so proud of this chapter. I think I wrote my best, angst work here. Plus - Kissing in the rain? Namtiddies? A taste of smau? Hee hee. 🤗 

If you make it to here, thank you so so much for reading this story, you lovely, beautiful, human! xo

Part 4 is coming uppp and it’s gonna be a doozy~ 🤭

P.S. As some of y’all know I am a mom and I have experienced post-partum depression before. It was nowhere near the severity of how it is depicted here (a condition that is grave and rare because the character also has other mental struggles), but I empathize. I cannot imagine being truly unfit to care for my own baby. So I request that we do not vilify L&L! LSK. She fucked up real baddd, she could’ve involved Yoongi earlier, etc etc but again she is trying to do better. Plusss, it needs to be said, she does not want Yoongi. Gasp. Y’all can rest easy. He’s yours! 💕

& If you want to read more of my work, please check out my masterlist. & If you enjoy my work and want to buy me a ko-fi, I'd appreciate it.

Taglist:

@yoongznme @nnybtitts08 @rinkud @nbjch05 @perfectiondazesworld

@marnz1990 @mxrauds @queenbloody @jadestonedaeho7 @futuristicenemychaos

@direnediane @glossdebut @maryhopemei @theresstardustinmyblood @mggv97

@wobblewobble822 @kam9404 @supernoonanyc @damn-u-min-yoongi @ot72025

@busanbby-jjk @granataepfelchen @jajabro @tarahardcore @marihoneywk

@ryryvna @tea4sykes @mar-lo-pap @lilkittenjenjen

@captainchrisstan @thelittlecatonthecake

@flaneuseonthestreets @sexytholland @diamonddia-mond

@yronathaniel @as-hs-blog @amarssfanfic @mafersame @amarawayne

@eurydiceofterabithia @diame93 @welcometomyworld13 @wonh0oe @lilkittenjenjen @jalexad

@jkkkkkay @chimmisbae @angellekookie @jovanaprime @txtsoobean @joonlovely

@kookiewithluv @soop-sprite @hyukaluve

[tthoroughfare]

crush // abby anderson

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: abby is like can u read my mind? i've been watching u! couldn't fight to save ur life, but you look so cool!!! just me rambling about making abby realize she's not straight

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: canon!abby x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* content: sfw! you two dancing around each other for now. abby being nervous and cute.

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 1.3k

this is part one and i've already written the majority of the rest. just thought this was a good way to break it up :)

recently i am thinking A Lot about the concept of being the girl that makes abby realize she’s not straight ,,, and the first girl she’s ever with

the idea of her being all fumbly and nervous and you having to take the lead. it’s just good

i also love the idea of being very different to her. you’re not a soldier like her, maybe you do something technical and sciencey. you get moved to the base and become friends, and people are just like… kinda surprised that you’re so close, so fast? on paper, you don’t seem to have that much in common but it just works. she likes that you’re different to her, it’s refreshing

you’d already heard a lot about her before you moved. you told her that not long into being friends with her, to which she’d scoffed a little, toying with her fingers. you were in the canteen, the two of you sitting opposite each other on the end of the table, leaving a gap between the rest of the group.

“good or bad?”

“good,” you’d chuckled, taking a bite of your lunch.

she paused, flitting her gaze away as you held eye contact, chewing slowly. “gonna elaborate?”

the corners of your mouth quirked as you swallowed. “just that you’re… pretty impressive. good at what you do. slightly intimidating.”

she scoffed again, eyebrows twitching. “i’m not… do you think i’m… you think that?”

“…impressive or intimidating?”

“either.”

you’d looked downwards, pausing before meeting her eyes with a teasing smile on your face. “you’re very tall.”

she didn’t tell you this at the time, but she’d heard things about you, too. she hadn’t paid it much mind at the time, but there had been a couple of mentions of a scientist girl moving in to help out with a new assignment full time, and that she was, ‘like, a genius’

also, manny had said something to her along the lines of ‘apparently she’s hot’, while raising his eyebrows with a cheeky smirk

she’d just rolled her eyes

but then she meets you for the first time, and okay. he wasn’t wrong

it’s only a chaste introduction as you cross paths one day, but she has to make a real effort to keep her cool. she doesn’t understand it, she’s just affected by you, just has to know you

and then she does know you, and she still wants to know you more. it’s this feeling, this drive, always wanting more more more

it sends her crazy. the fact it takes her so long to realize she has a crush on you makes her look back and laugh at her own naivety

she finds out you’re gay maybe a month into being friends with you, when you’re hanging out with her at the library. she never gave much thought to the fact you seemed to follow her around, spend nearly all your spare time with her. she figured it was just because you didn’t know anyone else that well yet.

she’s quietly reading on one side of the couch, while you try your best to get some work done on the other, papers strewn over the coffee table in front. it’s difficult to concentrate, though, even though you’re fully aware how inundated you are. one of her legs is slung up on the couch, bent at the knee, and you’re so conscious of the proximity.

after a good while of trying and failing to get anywhere, you look up at her and lean in a little. “hey, abby?”

she looks up from her book, acknowledging you.

“i’m bored.”

she chuckles as she sits up, closing the pages around her middle finger to keep her place. “c’mon, we need you to… save the world.”

you let out a small, fond scoff, putting your notebook and pen down on the coffee table. “that’s really… not what i do. appreciate the delusion of grandeur you’ve just given me, though.”

she watches you with a smile, not meeting your eyes as you sit back on the couch, shuffling around to face her. “so…” you begin.

“so…?” she parrots, raising her eyebrows slightly.

“what went on between you and owen?”

she’s a little shocked at your bluntness, laughing nervously and shifting in her seat. as far as she was aware, you didn’t even know anything about that. “what?”

you pull a face. “come on, i’m not stupid. i notice things.”

in truth, you’re using the question as a trojan horse to figure out if she likes women. you are genuinely curious, though, and right now the conversation sounds a hell of a lot better than doing what you’re actually supposed to be.

she pauses, eyes flitting around the room. “uh… we were together for a while. and now we’re not.”

you nod slowly, waiting for an elaboration that never comes. “that’s it?”

abby shrugs awkwardly, and you feel a little bad for pushing, holding your hands up. “sorry, sorry. i don’t mean to pry.”

“s’okay.” she messes with the novel, eyes trained on it as she runs the pad of her index over the closed pages. “what about you? you got a boyfriend?”

“i, uh… i was with someone. it didn’t work out.”

she hums in sympathy. “he a scientist, too?”

“she’s a medic.”

abby freezes, looking up at you, mouth falling open slightly. she feels stupid for assuming. “oh, shit, sorry. i didn’t realize you were — sorry. not that there’s anything wrong with that.” she mentally kicks herself for the last statement. of course there isn’t. she doesn’t even know why she said it.

you laugh, amused by her babbling and the way the tops of her cheeks turn pink. “you’re good, you’re good.”

she lets out a final, ‘sorry’, gaze darting from you, to her book, to the shelf on your right. then, she looks back at you, feeling the need to break the slightly uncomfortable silence that had fallen. “anyway… her loss.”

you chuckle. “owen’s loss. who needs ‘em?”

“who needs ‘em?” she repeats, breathing out a laugh.

after the revelation, something shifts for abby. she doesn’t know why, but finding out that you like women makes her feel… different (?) about you

not in a bad way. just different

she’d always looked at you and thought you were beautiful. possibly more beautiful than any girl she’d ever seen

and she knew she was nervous around you; she was normally pretty outgoing and didn’t really have an issue talking to anyone. but when it came to you she’d overthink every sentence, words getting caught in her throat. she just felt such a need to impress you, wanted to say and do everything right

she just thought that she really, really wanted to be friends with you. that she thought you were cool, and admirable, and funny, and smart, and liked being around you

but finding out that you’re gay just makes her… think. on a whole other level she’d never really looked into

knowing that you could, maybe, maybe, be a viable option sends her mind reeling with a whole host of confusing thoughts more than she’d like to admit

she’d never really put much thought into her sexuality. she’d always just assumed she was straight. sure, she’d looked at women before, gotten a little flustered around pretty girls, but just guessed everyone did

but when it was you… like. you… it was a whole other ballgame

and then, over a few months, she starts thinking about silly things like how it would feel to touch you — really touch you, not just the friendly brushes you already shared. how soft you’d feel, how it would be to have her fingers threaded through your hair

then she starts thinking about if she’d maybe want to kiss you

she decides she’s not against the idea

[luludeluluramblings]

dream team back. we’re currently yapping central again (per usual)

both of us are straight up in a tim drake brainrot spiral too!!! he’s a delightful little weirdo. a strange little gentleman if you will.

tim is such a funny little guy!!! he also makes a solid yandere. you can’t outsmart him. you can’t escape someone who can find everything about you. On the upside, I feel like he’d be happy to spoil his darling. also he’d be like, really considerate in weird ways??? I mean like you don’t get privacy (or you get the illusion of it maybe but not actual privacy.)

like yeah you’re always being watched in some way, but the man has committed every single one of your favorites and least favorites to memories. He knows what clothing you like, what specific features you look for in everything, and if he doesn’t, by god, will he learn. He knows your favorite song, and he knows the nickname you went by in elementary school.

Do you think he pretends to be normal and basically sets things up to send reader to be like a little love story?? You meet by chance, and he fell first. He fell a LONG time ago, so now it’s his mission to make you fall too. And Tim Drake ALWAYS finishes a mission. (Even as a baby daddy candidate). He makes himself the best option, even if he’s not the father.

Yandere!TimDrake x PastFriend!Reader x Aiden Cobblepot

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Sooooo, I'm finally and slowly going through my ask box and you two may have sparked an idea just for Tim. I might have to do a Part Two for this. (I'm falling into the WIP trap. Help!) But, I love the thought of the Bat Family have competition when it comes to their darling. Gives them a challenge. Plus, I really wanted to use Aiden Cobblepot for this. I've been wanting to sneak him into something.

A/N: We have neglected!Sib!Reader, but what about a Neglected!Friend!Reader? Fun idea. Tim already knowing everything about you only to find you’ve changed and wants to study you all over again. Only this time he’s keeping you! (I’m very fond of Tim. I think he’s difficult to write for me, but I enjoy the little stalker so much.)

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Romantic themes, Tim can be read as kinda platonic, GN!Reader

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You and Tim were once good friends. Well, he was your best friend. To him you were just a good one. High school buddies that would hang out all the time. At school only. And sometimes the rare gala you saw him at. It was rare you ever actually went to The Manor. You never asked to go. But, you had hoped to be invite.

Just like you had hoped that he might reciprocate that pesky crush you had on him back then. You had felt like it was so painfully obvious. Though it wasn't as painful when you finally figured out he was Red Robin and you waited and waited for him to tell you his secret identity. And, then you would tell him you already figured it out and you would look so cool.

Only, he never did. You both grew distant. You had put so much carful effort into keeping that distance from growing. Inviting him to hang out more. Asking him out for casual coffee. He always said the same thing.

"Oh, damn. I could really go for that right now. But, I'm just sorta busy. Next time though. For sure."

Over and over. He sounded like a broken character. Repeating the same phrase. One that you would hang around after the game was over to reminisce about all the fun adventures you both once had. However this was life not a game. You couldn't just restart and rerun the same adventures.

It made you ache when you finally moved on. When you finally pulled away. Because, Tim didn't even notice you were gone. His life to change. He didn't have to restart anything. You had lost your best friend and he didn't even care. It stung. It stung more than you realizing he'd never reciprocate your feelings.

But, like all things, time moves on and so do you. Leaving the past behind and starting a new game. One that you start to flourish in. Making new friends. Meeting new people. Building closer bonds and more healthy friendships. It had been interesting to realize how dependent you had been on Tim once upon a time. And, embarrassing. You can't help looking back on it with a wince. You almost want to reach out and apologize. But, that would be weird and you both live completely separate lives now. You hardly ever see him at galas now. Mostly because you don't go anymore.

Things, do change. You never expected your new partner would draw Tim's attention back to you. And, in such a terrible way.

You had a rough idea of what you were getting into when Aiden Cobblepot had asked you out to dinner. You figured he was only interested in you for your money or your half-decent looks or your family name and position. You had heard all the rumors about him, but still you went. Mostly, because you knew how dangerous he and his family were. And, you were… presently surprised.

He was a bit of an entitled asshole. But, he wasn't scared of getting dirty. You watched him lead you through the puddles of rain water and Gotham grim in the posh restaurant. He held more concern for you're clothing getting dirty than his, which were more expensive than yours. He paid for the date without flinching at the price. Encouraged you to try his own food from his plate. Talked about fond memories of the things he and his sister got up to as children while asking you about your own childhood.

Admittedly, you were easily seduced because after that the two of you became an item. You didn't even realize how official you were until he introduced you to his sister, Addison, and she was actually nice to you. Extremely nice. She did, however, threaten to kill you if you betrayed Aiden in any way, which was honestly fair enough.

Aiden and you were a bit on the opposite side of things, taste wise and morally wise. But, you both made it work. He continued his life of crime, but made no mention of it around you to keep you legally clean. You shared most of your life with him, letting him have a slight glimmer into normalcy. He liked to take you on fancy dates and show you a good time. You were happy to pull him inside just to spend personal time with each other. Of course, you both made compromises. Aiden had a taste for luxury, and you didn't mind indulging in it. Especially after you beat his ass multiple times in Mario cart. It was only fair you let him take you to a gala some point.

Little did you know that that was how Tim would come clawing and digging his way back into your life.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

For Tim seeing you again was like finding an old precious treasure. His life had gotten so difficult and complicate lately that just a reminded of all those old times was nice.

However, seeing you on the arms of the Penguin's son was a brutal wake up call. What were you doing? Had you hit your head? Was he blackmailing you? Drugging you? Everyone in Gotham could recognize the name Cobblepot and how dangerous they are. And, he remembers how smart you were so you couldn't have willing chose to be there. It's not logical.

For your safety, he reintroduces himself to you. Long time, no see. We should hang out some time and catch up. Only he means it. He can't let this happen. He can't let you fall in with a man like that. You're his friend. He'll win you over for your own sake. Ruin Cobblepot while he's at it because how dare he use you.

Even if you changed. Even if you don't smell the same. If your hair is different. If you dress different. Even if your very laugh had changed pitch, he knows you. And, if anything, he can just re-learn you all over again. It won't take long. He's done it all before. This time he'll savor though. This time he won't let you go as he pulls you back in. You were a good friend, this time he'll make you more.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I’m starting to type up Part Three of Pregant!Reader, but I ended up coming up with another start to it with more drama that would be strictly for the BatBoys. The messed up drama in it sounds fun and challenging, but I won’t do it until I finish what I started with the blurbs I have planned included.

A/N: Smalltown!Meta!Reader Part Nine is going to take a while. I have big plans for it, but Pregnant!Reader is kinda outshining it.

A/N: I will post about the LoungeSinger!Reader and another idea I came up with that y’all might like that I’ll add to the concept list.

A/N: There’s a Tony Part Two coming, but it’s only halfway typed and still not that yandere-y. Need to fix that.

A/N: My asks box is full, so I’m gonna try to empty it, but I host Thanksgiving in my family and I’m also a Christmas nut, so I’m gonna be busy. (I have four Christmas trees in my house currently… But I’m not as bad as my in-laws! They had their trees up BEFORE Halloween.)

[torturedlexdepartment]

Roadside Confessions

Rafe Cameron x fem reader

Author's note: super old fic but it's sweet..hope yall enjoy

Warnings: SMUT, possessive/jealous Rafe, protected car sex 🫠

Summary: your best friend Rafe steps in when a random guy tries to hit on you at a party

Rafe watched from across the room as the unworthy touron tried to make a move on you. He was trying so hard to be unaffected, however when he saw the look of discomfort on your face he lost all the restraint he had. He quickly made his way through a sea of people to get to you. You didn’t even notice Rafe until he put himself in between you and this guy.

“Get lost bud.” Rafe spits out.

“Excuse me? What’s your deal man?”

“The problem is that you’re flirting with my fucking girlfriend.” Your eyes went wide with the lie.

“Rafe.” You tried to protest and cut in but he gently pushed you back behind him.

“Woah woah man. Your girlfriend was the one acting like a slut and flirting with me.”

“You’d better watch your fucking mouth.” Rafe warned as he got right up in his face.

“Cut it out Rafe, just take me home okay.” You forced him to look at you and as soon as he saw how upset you were, he snapped out of his rage. He quickly grabbed your hand and led you outside to his truck.

The first part of your ride was silent as you stared out the window. Rafe looked over at you several times, pondering what to say. The last thing he wanted was to make you upset but his pent up feelings for you were slowly starting to bleed over your friendship.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay. That guy was an asshole.”

“And you don’t think I could handle it myself? I was doing just fine before you made a huge scene in front of everyone.” You spat.

“I could tell you were uncomfortable Y/N, I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, well you’re not my fucking dad. I don’t know why you’ve been acting like this lately.” He growled at your words and immediately pulled his truck over onto the side of the road.

“Because you’ve been out here acting like you’re desperate for attention and I don’t want you to get hurt.” He nearly screamed at you from his place in the driver’s seat.

“You’re a douche!.” You shout at him as you attempt to exit his truck. He quickly grabs you by your arm, forcing your attention back to him. “Rafe-” You're cut off by his lips being roughly pressed to yours. You pull back quickly, completely taken by surprise. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Come on Y/N, do I really have to spell it out for you?” You sat there dumbfounded and silent for what seemed like forever. You looked at Rafe and then down at yourself. You never really saw yourself as someone he would want in that way.

“You could have any girl you wanted, Rafe, why would you bother with someone like me?”

“I don’t want any girl Y/N, I want you. Since we were kids.” You whip your head in his direction as the words leave his mouth, in utter disbelief.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I don’t know. I should have. I thought I could keep it in but seeing that guy throwing himself at you set me off. I’m sorry.” He answers as he reaches for your hand.

You’re so overcome with emotion that you don’t stop to think before you’re climbing over the center console and straddling his lap, crashing your lips into his. He tries to speak but you kiss him and lean into him harder. His hand slides down the seat to push the seat back, giving you both more room to move.

You run your hands through his hair as his hand slips underneath the back of your shirt. Every little touch has your body wanting to erupt like fireworks. You never realized that you wanted him this bad, in this way. He moans into your mouth when you slip your tongue past his lips and it sets you off. Your hands go straight for his belt but he’s quick to pull away and stop you.

“Rafe.” You plead.

“Not here. Not like this.” He says softly but you aren’t having it. You roll your hips over him and the noise that falls from his lips only fuels you further.

“I thought you’ve wanted me your whole life? Are you really gonna tell me no right now?” You tease as you keep up your seductive movements. A low groan leaves his lips before he grabs you by the back of your neck, pulling you back into him as your lips fuse together again.

Your hands go back to his belt but this time he doesn’t stop you as you work to free him from his pants. You push your dripping panties to the side before helping him align himself with your entrance. He slips into you with ease and you both let out relieved whines of pleasure.

“Jesus Y/N!.” He growls as he fills you completely.

“You’re massive.” You breathlessly moan and he smirks before placing his hands on your hips to help you steady yourself. You lean down, taking his bottom lip in between your teeth biting gently as he starts pulling you down on him hard. You feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he perfectly caresses the inside of you.

You completely forget that you’re on the side of the road where anyone could see you. All you can think about is the fact that you’re fucking your best friend and how amazing he feels as you ride him. Your hand trails down your skirt to rub your clit and it’s mere seconds before your orgasm washes over you.

“So fucking beautiful.” Rafe growls as he keeps fucking up into you. He places tender kisses on the side of your neck as you come down. You can tell he’s trying hard not to dig his fingernails into your skin as he grows closer. “Shit, can I-“ he rasps but you cut him off.

“Yes, I’m on the pill.” You work to meet his thrusts, tugging at his hair as you feel him twitch. He releases inside of you with a groan and falls back against the seat, completely out of breath.

“Shit, I think I love you.” He pants and you smile.

“You think?” You tease as you lean in for a gentle kiss.

“Okay maybe I know.” He chuckles as you both work to right yourselves. As you make your way back over to the passenger seat you can feel his cum dripping down your leg and you smirk to yourself.

“Maybe I know too.” You whisper but you’re pretty sure he catches it as he smiles while pulling back onto the road.

[immortalmrwavell]

James: Two Men Bound as One

(For @sivfenrir)

(Original story posted March 23rd 2022 & April 16th 2022) This story has been mildly Updated

Long Story Here!! This story was originally posted in two parts but I’ve put them together in one post for your reading convenience! That said this is one of the longest stories I ever wrote so I hope you all enjoy!

(Part 1)

Seth, a youthful man in his 20’s, had just gotten home after another not so pleasant trip to his local gym. Not being able to get through a single workout without being loosely threatened and called homophobic slurs. As always he had Bradley to thank for that.

All his life Seth had been skinny as could be and usually found himself picked on by the bigger guys back in his school years. Of course now, being an adult, he was free of such torment. For the most part anyway. Whenever he ever tried going to his local gym to exercise and get into shape, the jocks and gymbro’s there would always give him a hard time. Saying how they didn’t want scrawny nerds slowing down their workouts by taking up the equipment. Of course not all the dudes in there were like this but there were enough for it to put Seth off wanting to go.

Today though, Seth decided to try his luck again in the hopes he’d get a decent workout in peace. The moment he saw Bradley from across the room however, he knew that wasn’t likely. Bradley would always make it his personal mission to make going to the gym absolute hell for any “geeks” or “nerds” that he saw. He saw the gym as a place only made for alpha bros like himself and hot chicks. With his small and meek build, Seth certainly didn’t fit either of those categories. It also didn’t help that Bradley was one of his former high school bullies…

Despite this Seth decided to put on a brave face before walking over to some equipment and starting his workout. Of course he only got about 10 minutes in before he was spotted by Bradley. The crude jock began to tease him relentlessly, telling him to get off whatever machine he was using so a “real man” could workout instead.

Surprisingly though, Seth stood up to Bradley somewhat. Usually he wouldn’t dare, preferring to shrink into himself and bend to the bully’s will. But today he managed to find an ember of courage burning inside of him. He took a breath before finally putting his foot down and telling Bradly he wasn’t gonna get off until he was finished.

Naturally Bradley didn’t take kindly to this lanky nerd speaking to him like that. He continued to more or less insult and bully Seth throughout the rest of his workout. And just when Seth didn’t think it could get any worse, as soon as he left to head home, Bradley cornered him outside of the gym and punched him hard in the gut. The jock spat on Seth, telling him to learn his place.

As Seth was left on the ground clutching his stomach in pain, he couldn’t help but have mixed emotions. Of course he hated what Bradley did to him. The constant pushing around and name calling amongst other things… but at the same time he felt sort of aroused by it all too. He’d always had a thing for big muscly men, especially jocks, and Bradley fit the bill perfectly. He wanted to hate Bradley but he always seemed to end up in bed jerking off to the bully instead.

Besides he knew Bradley wasn’t quite as impressive as he seemed in terms of having his life together. He had a shitty handyman job that didn’t pay a whole lot as well as a part time job as a personal trainer. Seth on the other hand was working his way towards a programming job that would pay quite a fair amount. More than Bradley would ever be earning anyway. That thought always gave him some peace of mind.

Later that evening, after a slightly painful walk home, Seth ended up playing a couple hours of DnD with his other “nerdy fag friends” as Bradley and the other straight jocks would call them. It wasn’t until midnight that they finally got to a point where they could pause the game for the night. Most of his friends went to bed after that, leaving the group call they’d been on. Seth on the other hand decided to stay up awhile longer.

He’d been searching up a bunch of gay porn and stuff when he got sidetracked and started looking at sex toys online. He’d always thought about buying some. And so he scrolled through a bunch of different sites and toys until one finally caught his eye.

At first glance they seemed like an ordinary pair of bondage handcuffs. That is until he read the description. Apparently they were called ‘merging cuffs’. It claimed that if two people were to cuff themselves together then they would merge into one person! Of course Seth didn’t believe it one bit but the idea of it certainly piqued his interest. And his boner. The cuffs were also super cheap so he just shrugged and purchased them right then and there on a whim. Why the hell not right?

It couldn’t have been more than a minute after buying those cuffs that Seth heard a knock at the front door. But it was past 1:30 in the morning?! Who the hell would be delivering mail at this time? Regardless, curiosity got the better of him as he pulled his pants back on before sneaking out of his room. He was careful not to wake his mother who was asleep in her room as he approached the door.

He quietly opened the front door, not sure what or who to expect. What greeted him was a tiny wrapped gift box sitting on the door mat. Whoever left it there was nowhere to be seen now. Seth reached down and picked up the peculiar box to find that it was in fact addressed to him. Now even more curious he closed the door before taking the box back up to his bedroom.

After plopping himself down on his bed, he opened the box to find what was inside. Only he was shocked to find the very same pair of handcuffs he’d just ordered on the web! But how!? It didn’t make sense!? Seth inspected the box a little before pulling out the cuffs. Yep, definitely the same ones he ordered. He hardly knew what to think at this point. Despite that he couldn’t help but notice a small instruction letter at the bottom of the box too. Seth pulled it out before reading the following…

~~~

These handcuffs will allow two individuals to become one entirely new entity.

It’s as simple as putting one cuff on person A and the other cuff on person B. When they become one they will for all intents and purposes become an entirely new being made up of the qualities from their two counterparts. Once Person C is created, reality will adjust to compensate for their existence and the absence of their former selves. The only people recorded to still be somewhat aware of the previous reality have been parents to the original Person A & B. Besides that nobody is likely to be aware of the merger that has taken place.

These handcuffs are also only good for ONE USE. You can choose to split at any time but after that you will not be able to use the cuffs to merge again. To split you must break the two metal bands created by the cuffs after the merge is complete. You must also be willing to split for this to work. If the metal bands are somehow to be broken and Person C does not wish to split back into A & B then the merge will become PERMANENT.

With all this in mind, use these handcuffs wisely and with a sound mind.

~~~

Seth’s heartbeat was soaring after reading all that. Sure he hadn’t believed it before but now he wasn’t so sure anymore. He couldn’t fathom how the hell this package got here as fast as it did. That said he started to question if maybe these things could be the real deal after all…

— The Next Morning —

After jumping out of bed and getting ready for the day, Seth threw on a baggy pair of shorts and a loose fitting t-shirt to match before heading off to the gym once again. He was sure to grab the cuffs just before he left. Stuffing them into his bag before setting out.

Upon stepping through the doors he could already hear the grunting of men lifting weights and growing bigger. Music to his ears. He’d chosen this specific time for a reason however because he knew (after some social media stalking) that every Tuesday at about 9:30am, Bradley would be at the gym without fail.

Turning the corner past reception, he saw that his assumption was absolutely correct. Across the gym floor he could see Bradley already warming up. With that in mind he entered quietly, choosing some equipment as far away from Bradley as possible. Of course this only worked for so long until the meathead finally noticed him.

From there it was just like every other time the two had been at the gym together. Seth getting teased and pushed around whenever Bradley had a break between sets. He managed to hold out and endure it though. Rolling with insults until Bradley eventually finished his routine and sauntered off into the locker room. Seth waited a solid minute or two before following him.

Seth hesitantly snuck around the locker room in search of the muscle bound hunk who’d been tormenting him. The room wasn’t all that big so it didn’t take that long for the nerd to spot Bradley standing by an open locker grabbing a towel and some shower gel. He must’ve been getting ready to have a quick rinse off in the showers. Lord knew Seth was tempted to see if he could catch a glimpse of Bradley’s nude body. Just the thought of seeing water cascade down the perky muscle ass was enough to make him wanna bust a nut on the spot. Yet somehow his urge to try out the mysterious handcuffs was even stronger.

Seth pulled the handcuffs out of his bag. He looked down at them before glancing up at the jock before him again. He still wasn’t sure if these things would work. Worst case scenario, they don’t do anything and he probably gets punched in the face. But if somehow they did work then… it’d be worth the risk.

Seth waited until Bradley was facing the other to put one cuff on himself and begin to tip-toe towards the man. His small size allowed him to be fast while remaining as quiet as a mouse. Despite that his heart was still pounding both with worry and excitement as he inched closer to the jock. He could smell that sweaty post workout scent filling his nostrils already. He even watched as the hunk kicked off his trainers and bent down to pull off his ankle socks before tossing them in the locker. Bradley was about to pull off his tank top next when he felt a cold metal bracelet smack against his wrist and snap shut.

“THE FUCK ARE…” The gym bro stopped short as he saw the small man who’d just slapped a single handcuff on him. Seth felt as though his heart were about to explode out of his chest as the man looked down at him with pure disgust.

“Oh. It's you.” Bradley spat, already clenching his fists. “I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing but yo—” He was cut off by a sudden jolt of energy that ruptured through his body! Seth felt it too! It seemed as though it came directly from the handcuffs.

Both men looked down at the metal cuffs bonding them together as they began to emit a strange glow. The glow started to intensify and before either of them could say another word, Bradley and Seth began losing control of themselves. Their bodies began to shake and convulse uncontrollably as the magical glow encased them as well. Bradley could only curse and shout as he had no clue what the hell was happening. Seth on the other hand had a wide grin, both of wonder and relief that these merging cuffs might actually be working!

The light around them only continued to grow as suddenly Seth and Bradley bodies forcefully pulled together like magnets as if some invisible force was binding them. Seth could feel Bradley’s muscle jiggling against him as they convulsed, loving the fact that he was just tall enough for his face to be pressed into the massive hunks pecs. God it was like he was having a wet dream! And he was gonna become a part of this huge meathead?!?! Fuck! He just couldn’t wait!

Just then the magical glow engulfed them completely. The last thing either of them felt was the strangely blissful sensation of sinking inside one another. Their bodies melding into one before blacking out…

———

A new man’s eyes would soon flutter open. He was sprawled out on the floor of the locker room staring up at the ceiling. He felt odd. Unfamiliar? But also not?… he couldn’t even explain it.

He began to sit up slowly, placing a hand on his head as he glanced towards the open locker beside him. His locker? Yet even the way his body moved felt odd and confusing. Like it was completely new yet had always been this way simultaneously.

“I… can’t believe it…” He muttered to himself in astonishment as he looked down at his hands and body. He was massive yet that didn’t seem to come as much of a surprise. He flexed an arm, feeling his biceps bulge. It felt so natural and so exhilarating at the same time. Surreal was probably the best way to describe it. “It… worked?…” He said, half confused.

With a breath, the new man stood up and was able to walk himself over to a mirror nearby and sink to get a proper look at himself. His eyes widened at the sight that stared back at him.

“I’m… I’m a… fucking nerd-hunk!” It was like he wanted to say two completely different things simultaneously. He looked like a nerd… but he looked like a hunk. But hadn’t he always been a nerd… or a hunk? Everything was so confusing. So muddled. So warped together. The man could hardly think properly.

As he inspected his reflection further, the man could see Seth’s nerdy features but it was as though they’d been ‘jockified’ in a sense. He was wearing Seth’s glasses too yet Bradley’s backwards cap also sat on top of his head. His clothes looked to be the same as Bradley’s gym gear yet the colour scheme had changed to fit that of Seth’s. And his body… It was enormous! So many years of hard work and dedication put in by Bradley yet certain features like his birthmark, body hair and more were distinctive of Seth.

Seth and Bradley. Bradley and Seth. He could see both of them staring back at him. He was also both of them and neither at the same time. Two bodies. Two minds. Two sets of memories. All of them combined into one single person. That’s who he was. And as his brain began to sort through its muddled memories, he quickly remembered how he came to be. Those handcuffs. Seth had used them to merge himself with Bradley and the result of that was the man looking back at him in the mirror.

The new man took another breath, longer and deeper this time as he tried to collect himself. Who was he? He wasn’t Seth and he wasn’t Bradley. He was a whole new person made from the sum of his parts. He felt and thought a lot of the same things they did yet he felt also completely new. As if he’d only just been born in a way.

That in mind he had to come up with a new name right? Just picking either Seth or Bradley didn’t feel right though. Saying Seth’s name out loud made him want to start throwing out homophobic slurs. Meanwhile saying Bradley’s out loud made him weirdly horny like he wanted to start jerking off to other gym bros and their huge bodies. But it still felt wrong. Like the two sides of himself were arguing inside his mind. So perhaps a whole new one would be better? He thought about it for a moment until finally a name sprung out at him.

James!

Yeah. He liked that. Not too similar to either of his old names and it had a nice ring to it. He couldn’t feel any conflict between his two halves at the name so that’s what he decided to lock in.

It was then that he took notice of the two metal bracelets on each of his wrists. He remembered the note Seth had read mentioning that’s what the handcuffs would become post merge. They emitted another faint glow for a second before settling again. Weird. He would’ve been more curious about it if he wasn’t so distracted by his new form.

James began to stroke strong stubble on his face. An interesting feeling since Seth was always relatively smooth. He scratched through it a little before running his calloused hands across every little detail on his face. It was like the perfect mix and match of facial features in the most handsome way possible. Mostly picking out Seth’s features as a base and then using Bradley’s to emphasise them in a masculine jockish way.

Of course his hands then couldn’t help but wander down his body. It didn’t take long for him to start grasping at the huge watermelons sized pecs sitting on his chest. Fuck he was jacked. He did a double bicep pose into the mirror that only served to make him look even more massive. James could only watch and smirk as his arms bulged with size. His nerdy half was beyond excited. Adoring the feel of all this powerful muscle mass that it had been yearning for all these years. So much so that James’ cock began to stiffen in his shorts. His jock half was also enjoying it but for a completely different, much more narcissistic, reason. Loving to see how this form was even bigger and more of a stud than even Bradley’s former body.

After a little more squeezing and groping of his new form, James couldn’t help but want to whip out his new combined cock. He gingerly tugged at the waistband of his shorts before slowly sliding them down until his dick jumped forward. By god was it massive. It seemed as though his counterparts cock sizes had also merged to become a much bigger whole. Seth’s cock had sat at a respectable 5 inches hard while Bradley had been rocking a 6 and a half incher. James however put them both to shame with an impressive 9 inch monster with the kind of thickness that would make any man or woman’s eyes water.

“Fuuuuuuuck…” The fused man grunted with a prideful smirk. “I could have so many hot dudes slobbering over this thing.” James chuckled as he gripped the thick appendage, sending shivers up his spine. His mind filled with images of sexy buff jocks getting their ass holes resized by his cock. That is until a conflicting thought crossed his mind.

“Wait no-I’m… I’m not a fag!?!” He questioned abruptly as Bradley’s influence shone through a little. Just then the images of muscular men in his mind transformed into hot busty women. His previous thoughts about cock and ass shifting to that of tits and pussy instead. His monster cock pulsed even harder at the idea of burying himself inside a hot babe. “Nahhhh bro. I fuckin love pussy!!” He exclaimed.

And yet his mind boomeranged once more.

“But then again…” his thoughts drifted back to the idea of eating out the hole of one of his bros at the gym before thrusting his cock into a plump jock butt. James’ mind continued to play a horny game of ping pong as it bounced back and forth between extremely gay and super straight thoughts, lightly jerking his cock throughout the conflict.

“Cock… Pussy… Pecs… Tits…” He murmured to himself as his cock started to drool precum.

James was only snapped out of this cycle when he heard some other dudes opening the locker room door. He’d completely forgotten he was in a public space! He quickly tried tucking his cock away into his shorts again, struggling to hide his obscene bulge in the process. Though he wasn’t as successful as he’d hoped before another jock turned the corner and saw him. It was one of Bradley’s gym buddies, Sam.

“Yo Jay! I thought you said you were getting a shower. You got a hot chick hiding in here somewhere?” Sam teased with a chuckle upon seeing the bulge, looking around and behind James as a joke. What struck James as odd though was the fact that the smaller jock somehow knew the name he’d come up for himself mere moments prior. Or at least an abbreviation of it that his jock half rather enjoyed. He knew reality should’ve shifted after he came into existence but he came up with that name after the shift right? Just then his mind snapped back to when he thought up the name. The metal bands on his wrists. They glowed a little when he decided on it. Perhaps that was them adding his new name to the reality alter or something? It seemed plausible but his train of thought was lost as Sam continued. “Or a dude maybe? I know you’re into that as well.” His apparent bro added.

“Oh umm… Nah bro just excited to see my uhhh… progress…” James lied with an awkward smirk. What else could he really say?

“Well I love seeing my results as well…” Sam turned to the mirror, giving a flex of his own. “But I don’t go around getting boners because of it.” He laughed.

James couldn’t help but lock his gaze onto Sam’s arms. He thought about kissing those biceps before making out with that scruffy dumb jock face of his. His Seth side had clearly harboured a huge crush on Sam as well.

“But you do you man, I don’t judge.” The other jock finished before patting James on the shoulder and walking away towards his own locker. As he did James couldn’t help but turn and get a quick look at his bro’s ass in those shorts.

‘He’s definitely been training his glutes a lot recently…’ James thought to himself, his dick jumping a bit in his own shorts at the thought of getting his hands on that ass. Smacking and fucking it. However his inner thoughts began to conflict again. ‘Nah Sam is just a bro! Bros don’t fuck bros!? Bros talk about hot chicks together!’ He then remembered a time where Bradley had seen one of the other female personal trainers wearing quite the revealing outfit one day. His cock began leaking precum once again as he remembered wanting to shove his dick between her huge tits while he kept stealing glances at her heart shaped ass. But just then, like getting horny whiplash at this point, his mind darted back to a time when Seth had seen one of the male personal trainers checking himself out in the gym mirrors after a pump. He was basically drooling as he watched the man bounce his pecs a little, wishing that he could shove his dick between those huge mounds of muscle.

Seeing the memories side by side however helped James realise something. Despite one experience being gay and the other straight, they were both extremely similar. So much so that you could switch it by having Seth be the one ogling at the woman’s tits and Bradley gushing over the man’s pecs and almost nothing would change. It was more or less the same experience. Perhaps his two halves were more alike in that regard than they originally thought…

James was suddenly snapped back to reality at the sound of Sam shutting his locker. “Well I’ll leave you to get back to…” he glanced down at James’ still slightly visible bulge. “Whatever you were doing before I guess.” And with that grabbed his stuff and left James alone in the locker room once more. He looked over at his towel along with the shower gel sitting on the bench. He still kinda smelled like sweat from Bradley’s workout. Though at this point he just wanted to have an excuse to get naked.

The grey tank top soon found itself being tossed inside the locker alongside Bradley’s trainers and ankle socks, swiftly followed by the pair of black shorts James had been wearing. Then after shutting the locker, grabbing his towel and shower gel, James sauntered off towards the showers in all his huge muscular glory. Good thing they had shower cubicles because there was no way he was gonna be able to hide his massive erect cock now.

Upon twisting the handle the shower burst to life. It soon warmed itself up. James stepped under the refreshing water flow with a deep sigh. He let the water run over him calmly for a moment before getting down to business. Grabbing and groping at his body once again but with much more lust this time around. Feeling the weight of his pecs, the size of his arms, the heftiness of his thighs and the thickness of his ass. It wasn’t long before he’d gotten some gel on his hands and began rubbing it all over his hulking form. Making sure to rub the soap into every crevasse he could find and loving every second of it.

The gay part of him couldn’t help allowing one hand to linger excessively long around his ass. Squeezing and kneading each of his cheeks before eventually sliding a finger between them and towards his asshole. But before he could try and enter it, the straight part of him forced his hole and asscheeks to clench tightly shut so nothing could penetrate it. The feeling to both desire and fight against something simultaneously was an odd one to say the least.

Eventually he stood back under the water fully to rinse off any remaining soap. As he did his thick python of a cock continued to buck and bounce at full mast as if it were begging for release. Naturally James was willing enough to oblige it.

James took a strong grip on his fat member before starting to pump. As he did he tried to think of anything that would get him going. Of course his own body was one thing. So huge and fuckin powerful. He could dominate anyone! He couldn’t help but imagine pressing one of his gym bro’s down onto his back before sliding his cock deep inside his ass, pounding away and dominating him in every sense. His balls were already churning with cum at the thought when his brain began to drift elsewhere again.

Now Imagining himself between the legs of one of those personal trainer babes at the gym. Eating out her pussy and tasting her delicious pussy juice before getting her to give him a tit job and busting a nut all over her face and breasts.

Then he jumps back to the guy he’d been pounding now giving him a sloppy blowjob. James’ hand on the back of his head pushing him as far down as he’ll go. He could practically hear the imaginary man gagging on his massive length.

Just then however, his two visions began merging into one. Both transforming into a single horny day dream.

He was now imagining himself in a threesome. The babe presented him with her wet eager pussy while the hunk presented his tight hungry hole. James was spoiled for choice. He wanted both! He loved both! Soon enough he imagined himself constantly swapping between the two. Pounding her pussy then pounding his hole then back to her pussy again. Going back and forth again and again until he nutted inside one.

By this point James was jerking his cock furiously to the mixed horny thoughts running through head. It was then that the bracelets that he’d left on until now began to glow once again. Suddenly his balls felt even fatter and fuller than they were before but at this point James was too horny to stop and ask why. At this point all he wanted was to explode! His eyes began to roll back as ecstasy overtook his body. His cock and balls started to tense up as his hand continued stroking like his life depended on it. He could feel it! He was gonna blow!!

“OOOOAAHHHHH FFUUUUUUCKKK!” James roared with extreme intensity followed by a massive rope of cum blasting from his cock. With it taking all of Bradley’s homophobic ideals and splattering them across the cubicle wall in a sticky mess. Finally releasing the one roadblock that’d been stopping James’ two sexualities from merging into a healthy Bisexual.

Then, as his cock released another tiny splutter cum, he also let go of Seth’s lack of vanity allowing him to become 100% confident in showing off his new and improved body. After that James was surprised when his cock suddenly shot another powerful rope at the cubicle wall, purging any desire to bully others by belittling them as Bradley had done so many times before. This was then followed by James’ hung appendage twitching again and letting out yet another modest cumshot. This one took with it Seth’s meek and shy nature, leaving behind only that of Bradley’s confident and extroverted one. It was only after his body had ejaculated all the qualities necessary to create the best version of James possible was his cock finally able to stop shooting load after load.

James fell to his knees then backwards onto his ass in exhaustion. He watched as his cum and ejected traits were washed down the shower drain with a faint smile on his face. There were simply no words to describe how incredible he felt. Just that he felt whole now. His two halves had finally stopped fighting against each over and have unified as one, leaving his mind feeling the clearest it'd been since the merge.

“Hey dude. You alright in there?” Came the echoing voice of another gym goer from just outside James’ shower cubicle. “I heard some noises from out there.”

He jumped back up to his feet in surprise. “Y-yeah! I’m good bro. Just slipped, but I’m good!” He shouted back, lying through his teeth as he glanced at some of his thick cum still dripping down the wall. The guy on the other side seemed a tad suspicious due to James’ tone but didn’t think anything of it and left back into the main locker room. Moments after, once he’d cleaned/licked up all the cum leftover inside the cubicle, James left with a towel wrapped around his waist as he made his way back to his locker.

Before long the merged nerdy jock had dressed himself in the spare set of clothes Bradley had in the locker. They felt tight on his body, not that it was a problem. He just loved the way his pecs stretched the t-shirt and how his thighs and ass strained inside the shorts. Wasting no more time though, James’ pulled on the leftover ankle socks and trainers before grabbing his gym bag and heading out of the locker room.

As he crossed the gym floor, James could feel the eyes of both horny and jealous people watching him and his body. And he got off on it like hell. Though just as he reached the reception he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Turning around he saw none other than the exact same female PT that Bradley had the hots for. His eyes almost immediately gave her a once over, inspecting her curves and cleavage shown off in the well fitting tights and sports bra.

“Heeyyy James. Are we still on for Friday night?” She asked with a devious smirk as she eyed him up just the same as he had. Looking over his bulging muscles and meaty pecs. It was then James recalled a recent memory of Bradley going on a date with her the night before. It must’ve gone well since she gave some heavy suggestions on what she wanted to do with him next time.

“Of course! Couldn’t be more excited.” James replied in a cocky but cheery tone.

“Glad to hear it.” She said, taking a step forward before reaching down, gingerly grasping at his bulge. “I can already tell we’re gonna have so much fun.” She giggled while rubbing his thick package before letting go with a wink. James grinned as he watched her turn and walk back towards some gym equipment to finish her routine, not being able to help watching her ass for a moment before turning around himself and heading out the gym exit.

James stepped out into the world, now with a semi-boner once again, and took his first deep breath of fresh air. Man did it feel good. He only had a couple seconds to enjoy the moment however as he felt the buzz of a phone from inside his gym bag. Opening the bag up he pulled out a familiar phone and saw a Grindr notification. He knew for a fact that Bradley never had Grindr but then again since reality changed this was no longer Bradley’s phone. It was James’.

Tapping the notification and unlocking the phone then took him to a chat this guy had started with him.

— Holy fuck! And I thought I was getting big hahaha. You’re fucking huge man! I would do anything just to feel those massive arms and that sexy chest! 😍 —

Well he was certainly straight forward. James went and gave his profile another quick look. They were about the same age and the guy looked to be a lean jock type. Soccer player by the looks of it. He had short brown hair with a bit of scruff on his face and some cute handsome features. The dude was definitely hot, he’d give him that. James half-hard dick even twitched again when he saw a photo of the guy wearing nothing but a Jockstrap, framing his cute ass perfectly. He could already see himself burying his face and cock between those cheeks.

He’d have to get back to that guy for sure but right now he had more important things to deal with. If everything that letter was true then his parents on both sides wouldn’t have been affected by the reality shift all that much. They probably weren’t even aware of his existence yet. So that was his next order of business. To break the news. Luckily, since Seth only grew up with his mom and Bradley only ever had his dad, there were only two parents to break it to rather than four. Still won’t make it any less awkward…

(Part 2)

James stood outside his house… or one of his houses anyway. With a deep breath he stepped forward and gave a rhythmic knock. It was only mere moments later that Seth’s mother Lisa opened the door. Of course she didn’t recognise the hulking man before her but there was an odd sense of familiarity about him.

James politely gave her his new name before asking to come inside, saying that he has something very important to tell her about her son. The middle aged woman was reluctant for a moment but the man seemed genuine so she stepped aside and offered him a seat in the kitchen.

“Ummm… well I’m not quite sure how to say this…” As James fumbled with his words Lisa became worried. She began to ask if Seth had been hurt somehow to which James swiftly reassured her that wasn’t the case. “No Mom. The truth is that… I am Seth. Kind of.”

“W-what are you talking about?! You aren’t my son!” Hearing his mother shout those words definitely hurt but James understood her view. He did look completely different after all.

“Just please give me a moment to explain.” He pleaded.

She gave him a distrusting look but allowed him to take the floor and somehow make sense of the madness he spoke.

“Yesterday I ordered these weird handcuffs and…” James went on to explain how the mysterious handcuffs worked and how they arrived almost instantly as he ordered them online. “Then this morning I took them to the gym. You remember Bradley right?…” He refreshed her memory of the bully he’d had throughout high school and how he went to the local gym frequently. “I saw him with all his muscle and confidence and decided that… I wanted to be a part of that.” James continued, telling her how the merging process had gone down after slapping the cuffs on himself and Bradley. “It was weird and confusing at first, like our individual minds were constantly pulling our new self in two different directions with opposing thoughts, but I think we’ve managed sync up now… kinda”

Of course his mother had no idea what to say to all this. The way James spoke reminded her of Seth only with a deeper, more resonant voice and a lot of the things he said were accurate like the stuff about high school… But surely he could’ve just acquired that information somehow. The only logical solution was to ask him a personal question that only Seth would know the answer too.

She sat and thought for a moment until she came up with just the question to ask. "So when you were younger, you were really proud of this one sunflower you grew. how many seeds did it make in the end?"

"Oh, hahah! I remember that easily. Just the one seed, unfortunately." He chucked thinking back to that old childhood memory. "It didn't grow to become a giant sunflower sadly, just a tiny little lanky one. Could only grow one premature seed before dying.”

Lisa couldn’t believe it, it was such an obscure memory that nobody but herself and Seth could’ve possibly known. “S-Seth?… is that really you?” She asked to which the bulky young man simply nodded with a smile in response. “I can’t… I don’t… I…” She had no idea what to say but she found herself believing it. Many of his features reminded her of her son, only more masculine, and the glasses he wore were unmistakably the same. And yet there were also a bunch of completely different features like his eyes, facial hair and most notably his large physique. Was all that crazy talk he’d said about merging actually true after all?

“Look I know you must have a lot of questions but right now we’ve got to call my dad… on Bradley’s side I mean.” James said, placing a large reassuring hand on top of hers before getting up to grab the house phone. Lisa could only stare in awe at her son(?) as he dialed a number and started calling. Soon enough Bradley’s father Saul answered.

“Wassup Dad! Look there’s something super important I gotta talk to you about. How soon can you get down here?” Suddenly James’ entire tone of speech had shifted. His dad didn’t think anything of it as James’ voice now sounded exactly like his son’s over the phone. Saul sighed at the request but agreed to meet ‘Bradley’ after being given the address.

30 minutes later there was a knock at the door. James jumped up to open it, greeting his father with that same jocky attitude as Bradley yet Saul only looked at him with confusion.

“Who the hell are you? You ain’t my son?” Though he couldn’t help but notice the man before him bore a strange resemblance to Bradley in a way.

“Yeaaaahh… about that.” James persuaded Saul to come inside and sit down at the table with Lisa. As crazy as it all sounded they convinced Saul to hear James out.

“Well I made my way down to the gym to get a pump with my bro’s and…” he went onto explain how his routine went, chatting up a couple chicks in between exercises and what not. Typical jock bro stuff. “Then I saw that Seth nerd across the room working out…” he confessed to being a bit of dick to Seth while he was there until he finished his workout. “After that I went to my locker. Was about to get a shower, when BOOM! Seth slaps this weird ass handcuff on me!” James re-explained the handcuffs to Saul, saying how they’d somehow fused him and Seth into one dude. “It was super fuckin weird at first, like a part of me was thinkin one thing then another part was thinkin something else. I think our thoughts have started to match up a little now though and work together or some shit.”

Just like Lisa before, Saul was lost for words. This man sounded like a lunatic! Yet at the same time he spoke just like his son. It wqs also a slight shock for Lisa as he hadn’t sounded quite this… bro-ey(?) until Saul got here.

Naturally Saul didn’t fully believe this to be true at first just like Lisa. And similarly to the woman before him, he prompted James to say something that only he and Bradley would know.

"Alright Dad. Hmmmm…” James pondered for a moment. “Oh I got it! You remember that time when I bullied those nerds for the entire school camping trip and you punished me by leaving me to camp alone in the forest for 2 days? I didn't learn a fucking thing from that punishment! I just proved to you I could live out there on my own." James gloated, flexing an arm and laughing.

Saul was in shock. Was this man really his son somehow? Though thinking about it he looked to have the same physique, attitude and some familiar features that reminded him of Bradley. Though there were also many that he didn’t recognise as well like his smile, his glasses and slightly lesser tanned skin among other things. Had he actually merged with some nerdy dude that slapped some magic shit on him. It took him a while to process it all but once he did…

“So you’re telling me that my jock son is now fused with some scrawny nerd!? What’re you a fag now as well?!” Saul’s outburst was sort of expected but Lisa still scolded the man anyway. Telling him to not spout ill words towards her son, especially in their own house. James also knew that despite Bradley’s clear homophobia prior to ‘ejecting’ it the other day, Saul never had anything against gay men before now. Hence he gave his father the benefit of doubt. He was probably just overwhelmed right now. Though that didn’t mean he couldn’t tease his dad a little…

“Well… I guess you’re half right. I still love pussy but dude ass looks pretty good as well now dad I gotta say!” James said with a chuckle.

“Set-I mean James! No language like that in the house please!” His mother scolded. Well it was certainly going to be a madhouse around here from now on by the looks of things.

Eventually Lisa and James got Saul to sit and listen to the positives. Being merged with a nerd means they’d be much smarter together than Bradley ever was on his own. With that intelligence they’d be able to get a decent job that pays well unlike the handyman job that Bradley had to settle for. Plus his new son still looked like an ‘alpha jock’ just with a little less douchiness about him. Really it should be a win-win but Saul was still having a hard time accepting it right now.

Afterwards, James explained that they’re the only ones who remember him being two people and that for everyone else, reality had completely shifted. In a lot of ways this made things easier, they didn’t have to bother dealing with the disappearance of Seth and Bradley nor did they have to set up some new identity for James somehow. According to everyone else, James had lived a mixed life of experiences from both Bradley and Seth. It also seemed that a lot of people now thought Bradley’s dad and Seth’s mom had a fling back in the day which was how James came to be.

After some long discussion, the three came to the decision that James would stay with Saul for the time being but would frequently come back to Lisa’s house to keep things fair. With that James went to his old room in his moms house to find that it’d been left unchanged. He grabbed whatever gear he wanted from the room and packed it into a bag. Though he didn’t bother with any of the clothes as none of those would fit him now anyway. Once done, he headed back downstairs with his stuff and said his goodbyes to his mom before hopping in his dads car and heading back to his place.

The car ride was undoubtedly awkward, neither man knowing quite what to say to the other. Best James could do was try and make some small talk about the other night's soccer game but even that didn’t help much. Luckily it didn’t take long for them to pull up into Saul’s driveway. The pair jumped out of the car and headed inside, still barely speaking a word, before James made a B-line for his other bedroom.

Upon entering he could smell a distinct musk. The sweaty post work out smell of a man clouding the room from all the previous training Bradley had done when at home. Unlike his room at Lisa’s house, this one was much messier with dirty clothes littered about the floor, unkempt bed sheets, weights and exercise equipment just lying around and much more. It didn’t seem to bother James all that much to be honest but he was probably gonna tidy it up a little later. At least get hamper in here for some of those clothes.

With that James got himself settled in, unpacking all the stuff he’d brought and looking through the stuff in his current room. He ended up rooting through Bradley’s closet for clothes to try, even throwing on some of the dirty ones, then checking himself out in the full body mirror. Due to his slightly increased size from what Bradley had been, most of these clothes now fitted quite tightly. Not that he was complaining. He just loved the way his pecs strained against some of the tank tops and t-shirt’s as well as how many of the shorts did little to hide his huge muscle butt and hefty bulge. A bulge of which was growing bigger by the second as he continued to admire his merged body, especially when he was stood in nothing but one of Bradley’s dirty jockstraps that he’d recently used during football practice with the bros. Enjoying the way it framed his ass while a bit of precum seeped through the pouch, further staining it.

In no time James was sprawled out on his bed, jacking his monster cock furiously. So fucking horny for himself, groping every part of his body like he had been in gym showers earlier that day before thoughts of both men and women alike started running through his head. In his horny frenzy, James grabbed his phone and opened Grindr. He found the guy who’d messaged him yesterday, Matt, and started scrolling back through the photos he’d sent. Fuck he was so hot, James could’ve bust a load to that cute jock butt right then and there but he held off for a moment to message back.

— Hey man, thanks for the compliments. You’re super fucking cute as well! Would love to meet up soon so we can appreciate each-over in person 😏 —

He went back to jerking gently for a moment until he got a swift reply from Matt who seemed to be completely on board. He said the best day for him was this coming Thursday. Perfect! James had a date with the personal trainer Katie on Friday so he could get ass and pussy one after the other! With that he set it up with Matt before returning his full attention to jacking off.

As his hand continued to pump up and down the shaft however, James began to notice a certain haziness setting over him. At first he assumed it just just due to his sheer horniness but the feeling grew stronger as he came closer to orgasm. His mind was overtaken by it as he couldn’t help but bust a nut all over his pecs and abs.

Suddenly conflicting memories start to disappear from his mind. Memories of Seth giving up on his work outs years back and using a flesh light are ejected out in thick ropes of cum leaving only Bradley’s memories consistent working out instead and never having to use a flesh light because he always had a hole to fuck anyway. After that even more of Seth’s irrelevant overlapping memories were ejaculated one after the other.

Afterwards James simply sat chuckling to himself as he smeared the cum over his chest before licking some up. It was like his brain had just switched itself off and he could barely think at all, a thick cloud covering his thoughts. Little did James know that jacking off had caused the two consciousness’ inside his head to start mindfucking one another. Right now it was as if the inner Bradley was shoving his metaphorical cock into the inner Seth’s mouth, shooting copious amounts of 'psychic cum’ down his throat and filling Seth’s consciousness with tons of his jock-like traits. Slowly but surely transforming Seth’s inner self into more of a buff nerdy jock.

Time flew by as James continued to lay buck naked on his bed, laughing and touching his body all over in a sort of euphoric state. After about an hour or so his dad came into the room to see his new son sprawled naked and covered with dry cum. “Huhuhuhuh shoulda knocked dude.” He didn’t even try to cover himself as his dad cursed, covering his eyes before leaving and closing the door.

It wasn’t until about 4 or so hours had passed that he finally returned to his senses, confused as to why he was now standing doing bicep curls nude in front of the mirror. Despite his brain clearing up again though, he did feel different. Besides some of Seth’s memories he could no longer recall, he also felt a bit… dumber?

The rest of that evening went as awkwardly as you would imagine when James went down to watch the game with his dad, vaguely remembering what his dad had seen earlier. It was also pretty apparent that Saul hadn’t yet accepted him either. This prompted James to try and bond with his father any way he could. Mostly via the sport on TV and hopefully try to forget what happened earlier in the process…

———

Wednesday morning soon arrived. James awoke with a big yawn as he stretched before pulling himself out of bed. Looking at his wrists he noticed the merging bracelets that were still attached to him. To be honest he’d almost forgotten they were there. He remembered what the letter said about the merge being permanent if he broke them without wishing to defuse. It was honestly kind of tempting to break them right then and there. In the short time James had spent as himself, he already felt way better than either of his previous selves ever had. However, for now, he wanted to have a backup and so he instead just slipped them off and stored them away underneath his bedroom floorboards for safe keeping.

Now that was sorted, he’d already decided he was gonna spend most of today with his dad. He had to convince him that he was still his son! Though hopefully that shouldn’t be hard since he felt more like Bradley than ever after yesterday’s odd haze.

Immediately heading downstairs after getting dressed, James found his dad sitting at the table with a coffee in hand. Well, here goes nothing.

Across the course of the day James did everything he could to get his dad to accept him. They reminisced over old memories they shared, tossed a football around for awhile, drank beer together and many other manly father and son bonding activities James could think of. Saul still wasn’t all that keen at first but as the day went on he began to warm up a little. It was minor progress but it was better than nothing. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long before Saul was calling him ‘Son’ again. They managed to end the day on a high note before James later made his way back to his moms house. After all the address he’d given his hookup Matt was for his mother’s place.

Content with that day he’d had with his father, he walked inside and said hello to his mom. They chatted for a while about his day before he headed off to his room. He could tell his mom was still a little uneasy about the whole situation even if she was trying to hide it. He understood though. This was gonna take some time for both his parents.

He closed his bedroom door behind him and gazed over his other more nerdy looking bedroom. Part of him was tempted to jack his fat cock off again and bust some more jock nut like he had yesterday. He was definitely a little horny again but he honestly was too exhausted after today’s activities to bother. Instead he just collapsed onto the much smaller bed, allowing it to creak under his weight. It didn’t take long for him to doze off into a deep sleep.

———

Thursday came around and James awoke with a throbbing erection. Seems like after going 24 hours plus without jerking off, his cock was becoming restless. It took a lot of willpower to not satisfy the urge. Fortunately his desire to save his cum for tonight was greater than his urge to spill his load. He gave his thick shaft a couple tugs before trying his best to shove it into his shorts comfortably. A hard task for sure.

After heading back downstairs and grabbing some breakfast with his mom, James set off towards the gym to get his main workout in. Especially since he’d skipped it yesterday to hang with his dad.

Upon arrival he was welcomed by many other gym-goers, a lot of them he thought of as his bro’s. After that it was like muscle memory took over as he made his way over to each machine and pumped out set after set. Not to mention helping and encouraging his bros in between exercises. Fuck did he feel like he was in his element though. He felt just as Bradley always did! Barely having a thought passing through his head while pumping his already huge muscles with the sole goal of growing even bigger than he already was. Just the rush of proving how powerful he was by lifting some massive weights was causing blood to rush into his cock again. He just couldn’t control that thing!

Before long he finished his routine and went to shower off. While he was getting dried however, some of the other jocks and meatheads he’d been working out with offered him to come play some football with them on the local field.

“Let’s fucking do it bros!” He agreed with a grin.

Next thing he knew, he’d headed home to grab his football gear and the same jockstrap he’d been wearing the previous night. Then before long he was on the field tackling the other dudes while having the absolute time of his life!

They must’ve played for a couple hours as by the time he got back home it was already the late afternoon. He messaged Matt to be sure he was still coming, which Matt confirmed, before heading to his room to play some first person shooter games.

The time passed by pretty quickly and soon enough there was a knock on the front door. James rushed down to answer it before his mother could, delighted to see the man from Grindr he’d been talking to. He was cuter and even more handsome in person.

They chatted for a little while but it didn’t take long for James to lead him upstairs. As soon as the door was closed, they made out passionately for a good while. During which they started ripping off each other's clothes. Matt couldn’t stop himself grabbing at James’ arms and grinning as he felt just how huge and powerful they were. “Oh wow… you really are so fucking incredible…” He complimented as his hands continued to roam around the rest of James’ supersized muscle bod.

As Matt began squishing and squeezing at those massive pecs, James smirked down at him. “You look pretty incredible yourself you know…” he said before reaching round to squeeze Matt’s ass, earning a lustful yelp from the smaller man. The two couldn’t help but lock lips again, swapping spit with such aggressive passion. Then after finally breaking apart, James tossed Matt onto the undersized bed, stroking his massive cock to the cute jock before him. With a smirk Matt rolled over, exposing his tasty looking ass to really get James going.

Next thing they knew, Matt was leaning over the side of the bed and swallowing as much of the fat member before him as his throat could handle. James was sure to face fuck him hard and good before eventually hopping onto the bed himself, instantly jumping at the chance to eat out that juicy jock butt. Matt groaned out as his hole was licked and savoured by the hulking brute of a man, being prepared for what was to come.

After a couple minutes of teasing, the time had finally come. Once his cock was well lubed, James alined the tip with the tight hole presented before him. Matt begged him for it until he felt the tip push inside, both men groaning out in unison. Slowly but surely James delighted in pushing himself further inside until he was balls deep.

An hour or so must’ve passed by the time they finished. They were constantly switching positions, making out and admiring each overs bodies. Eventually though, despite the incredible stamina, everyone has a limit and Matt was the first to reach his. As his hole continued to be destroyed, now once again lying on his front with James pounding down into him, he groaned out and arched his back before his cock started nutting beneath him. That was James’ signal to finish up himself. Matt was then delighted to feel his ass suddenly fill with thick cum, James roaring out as he emptied the massive load his balls had stored.

While his balls unloaded, James then felt that familiar haze settling over him once again. His mind went numb as it got harder for him to think straight. During his orgasm even more memories began to vanish, this time from Bradley’s side. He shot out memories of Bradley failing most things back in high school and college. Not to mention somehow never being able to get a drivers licence. Leaving behind only Seth’s memories in those regards, getting grades ranging pretty good to amazing in most areas and having been able to drive for over 2 years now. Those among others of Bradley’s memories, all ejaculated in the load of cum that now resided within Matt’s hole.

Once again James’ two inner halves began mindfucking each over through the foggy haze. This time however, the roles were flipped. The jockier Seth was now the one receiving a passionate blowjob from Bradley, sucking out a bunch of Seth’s nerdier traits and transforming him into more of a nerdy jock mix similar to that of inner Seth. James’ two halves were becoming more and more alike by the day.

After all that intense fucking though James started drifting off to sleep, still on top of Matt who was just as exhausted. As his eyes fluttered shut, his inner Seth would only continue face fuck inner Bradley as they slept…

———

Upon waking James’ mind felt clear once again. The strange haze must’ve worn off in his sleep… but once again he felt different. Now he felt much smarter than before as if he were now channeling more of his Seth side. That must’ve been why he felt dumber and cockier before, because he was channeling Bradley. He must not have been quite as stable yet as he’d previously thought…

Laid beside him, Matt was still sleeping soundly. James couldn’t help but smile at how sweet the other man looked in that moment. He ended up wrapping an arm around the smaller but still well built man and cuddling with him. They got to lay in peace for a good half an hour or so before Matt finally began to stir awake.

The two had quite the pleasant morning chat, Matt even noting how James sounded a bit different now. Like the way he spoke sounded more intelligent. He guessed that James had been hiding it the previous night for whatever reason. As great of a time they were having though, Matt soon had leave since he was late for work. James watched while the man he bred last night yanked his clothes back on before James walked him downstairs and out of the house, waving him goodbye.

He’d never expected to like Matt quite as much as he did. Sure he was hot in all his photos but now after meeting him, he felt as though there was a deeper connection there. One he certainly wasn’t expecting. Maybe he should ask Matt on a proper date soon? Of course he already had his date with Katie to worry about first though. It’d only be fair to give her an equal chance.

The rest of the morning from that point went rather as you’d expect from James by this point… except for one thing.

He got dressed, had breakfast with his mother, then gathered his things for the gym before setting off. Though by this point he still had about an hour or so before needing to leave. So to pass the time he sat back in his bedroom and played some of Seth’s games. Games that would’ve been considered ‘geeky’ to a lot of his Jock friends but he couldn’t deny that he was having a blast!

That hour absolutely flew by and before long it was time for him to leave. After saying goodbye to his mom, James jogged to the gym as part of his warm-up before stepping inside.

He was ready for a pump.

Of course he spotted many of the other gym regulars whom he talked with as he trained. Talking to those guys did bring out a bit more of that bro-talk side to him but even they were still able to notice the strange shift in James’ tone since yesterday.

It was only about half way through his routine that Katie walked in at last. They’d agreed to meet here and leave for the nearby restaurant in town once they’d both finished. That certainly didn’t stop them from trying to chat each other up every time they passed one another though. In the end, James finished first and left for the locker room where he got a rinse off the showers and got changed.

Now he was simply sitting outside the gym waiting for Katie to finish up. Said waiting gave James a lot of time to think. Mainly about his parents.

Both his former selves had wished they could’ve had two parents rather than just one. More so Seth than Bradley but still. Now in a strange way he finally did! Although now it felt sort of like having divorced parents in a way. That’s when he came up with a plan.

James called up both his parents, asking them to come meet him and his date at the restaurant. After some persuasion over the phone, they both surprisingly agreed. Then once Katie had finished her workout and got cleaned up, the two headed to the restaurant themselves.

Upon arrival, James had already informed Katie of the situation. She was a tad weirded out by it at first but he was able to get her on board. Soon it wasn’t long before all four of them were seated at a table together. Turns out James’ big plan was in fact a double date in hopes that his parents would find some sort of a connection.

For sure it was a little awkward at first but as James and Katie flirted on their side of the table, Saul and Lisa gradually began to find common ground. Turns out the two actually did have a couple of common interests. They both enjoyed Rom-coms (Though Saul wouldn't always admit it) Baseball, Motorcycles and more!

“Hey, seems like my plan for those two is working. How’s about we leave them to it while you and I head to the Hotel across the street and… you know.” James thrusted his hips back and forth a little in his seat. Katie rolled her eyes while trying to hide an amused grin. They got up from the table after paying for their food and said to James’ parents that they were heading to the hotel. This of course invoked a slurry of embarrassing lectures about ‘safety’.

The young and horny pair arrived at the hotel in no time, getting themselves a room before rushing inside. The very second the door closed they were practically smashing their lips together, tongues exploring each other's mouths while their hands began to wander. Katie reached her hand under the back of James’ tank top, running her palm across his muscular back. James’ hand did something similar except going a little lower to feel her soft ass. The touching started gentle but quickly grew more animalistic on both ends. Katie wasn’t able to stop herself from squeezing and admiring James’ impressive muscle mass just as Matt had the prior night. Grabbing at his bulging arms and cannonball-like shoulders. James responded in kind, kneading both hands into her pillow of an ass before lowering himself a little more to get a feel of her thick feminine thighs.

Of course it wasn’t long before his focus turned to her chest as he got a good feel of her tits, chuckling a tiny bit as he played with them. Katie smirked “Alright, my turn now” She stated before reaching out and groping James’ huge pecs, poking and prodding at the muscle. “Yours are even bigger than mine.” She joked.

The two threw off the last of their remaining clothes, revealing James’ hard pulsing cock and Katie’s wet needy pussy. They interlocked their lips once more as Katie jumped up into James’ arms, wrapping her legs around his waist with one of James’ hands on her ass for support.

He carefully aligned his massive shaft with her core before gently pressing it inside inch by inch. Katie cried out in delight as his cock pressed against her pussy walls, stretching her more and more as James buried himself as deep as possible. He tilted himself back a little before starting to move his hips, slowly thrusting in and out. He used his knowledge gained from Bradley’s numerous conquests to make sure he pressed himself inside in just the right way to make her scream with lust.

James continued to fuck Katie in his arms for a good few minutes before the two hopped onto the hotel bed. The flexible young woman spread her legs nice and wide before pressing James’ face into her pussy. He proceeded to eat her out with pleasure, loving the taste of her juices as it smeared across his face.

As one can imagine this scene went on for some time. Pussy eating, dick sucking, tit jobs and all sorts of fuck positions. But sooner or later James was bound to reach the end of his rope. They finished with Katie on top of him, James’ holding her by the hips and waist to assist her in bouncing up and down. She could tell the jock was getting close by the increased grunts and inconsistent pace of his upward thrusts. Well she was on the pill so… what the hell. Katie bounced on his cock a few more times before pressing herself as far down as she could handle, moving herself around on top to massage the dick inside her from every angle. James was sent over the edge, groaning out as he unleashed a wave of cum.

It happened again. The haze. It glazed over James’ mind once more. In the load he shot out various inferior memories from not one but both sides of himself that conflicted with his merged self. While this happened, the separate consciousness of Bradley and Seth mindfucked one another once again. This time though they were fucking each over in the 69 position. They shot load after load after load of ‘psychic cum’ into one another. Constantly filling one another with parts of their individuality. Shooting over and over until that individuality started to fade as the inner Seth and Bradley slowly became more and more indistinguishable from each other. Before long even they started to fuse, merging consciousness into one singular entity as well. Melding them together until they were no longer Seth and Bradley on the inside. They were simply just James.

———

For a while everyone was a little worried when James began acting strange for the first two days after that night. Turns out that last haze lasted way longer than the others. He started acting like the dumbest gym bro around for at least 48 hours. Once it wore off however, James had evolved in the most incredible way possible. His two inner selves, after swapping and sharing so many personality traits and memories, had eventually become identical and merged into one. No more were there two voices in his head directing him, only one unified voice. No more Seth. No more Bradley. Only James.

Unfortunately Katie saw a little bit too much of the hazed out James and decided she didn’t wanna see him anymore. Guess she didn’t wanna date a guy who all of sudden seemed as dumb as a brick. Of course he was a little upset by this but it did make things easier. He enjoyed the short time he’d spent with her but in the end he didn’t feel the same sweet connection he’d felt with Matt. Luckily for James, he’d slept through the second haze and Matt hadn’t seen him as he’d went through that third one. And so… he called him.

The two met up again and had a nice proper date this time around where they got to know each other much better. They didn’t fuck on that date however. James had to make up some sort of excuse as he wasn’t sure if he’d haze out and turn into a dumb brute again.

So later that night he tested it by busting a huge load to some porn and… nothing happened. Besides covering himself in cum that is. After that you best believe James fucked Matt’s brains out post their next date. Afterwards he even got Matt to top him! He could tell the cute smaller jock was having the time of his life pounding James’ thick muscle ass. Though, thanks to Bradley’s inherited virgin hole, he felt so fucking tight at first. It took him a long while to loosen up properly for Matt’s dick.

———

Since then it’s been about a year. After a few more successful dates, Matt and James decided to start dating properly as boyfriends and they got on incredibly well. They were always laughing and having fun, James even getting Matt into a couple of his nerdy games. They loved to fuck as much as possible and enjoyed going to the gym together. Matt had even put on a fair amount of extra muscle because of James’ encouragement and gentle guidance.

That wasn’t the only good news though. Turns out James’ plan had worked after all. After that double date he’d had with his parents, they’d started to see more and more of each over. At first they came up with the excuse that it was for their shared son but before long the two couldn’t deny they were developing feelings for one another. James was thrilled for them! It really seemed like everything had come together perfectly at last. And to think none of this would’ve been possible had Seth not bought those merging handcuffs on a whim…

Saying that, James finally decided it was time. He headed into his bedroom at his fathers house and found the merge bracelets he’d hidden all that time ago. He stared down at the objects that’d created him before holding them together, proceeding to break them both clean in half with one effortless motion. Since he didn’t wish to split, the fusion was officially made permanent. No way to return. He didn’t want to. His life now was far better than his previous two had ever been. He had two parents that were falling in love. He had a beautiful boyfriend by his side. He was smart as hell, had gotten himself a great job and still had a massive incredible body.

James was here to stay. Forever.

[straylightdream]

understand

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: yoon joenghan x f.reader

↳ Watching your “best friend” marry your ex is heart breaking. At least Jeonghan is by your side. He’s the only one who could make you feel less heartbroken.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: friends to lovers, non idol au

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: so much fluff, angst, mutual pining, they’re both head over heels for each other, smut warning below the cut.

an: this was inspired by the song understand by keshi. Thank you @whimsical-whatever for helping me with this story.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Unprotected sex (the mc is on birth control), body worship, cum play, creampie, oral, shower sex, fingering, light choking, jeonghan is fascinated with the mc neck, nicknamed: (hers) honey, baby

It was your best friend's wedding and you sat at a table in the corner with a glass of champagne in your hand as you watched her dance with her new husband. You couldn’t help but feel quite awkward even attending this wedding. The man your best friend was marrying was your ex boyfriend that you dated for three years. Somehow you had managed to stay friends even though it made you sick to your stomach seeing them together.

Walking across the ballroom as the song finished playing you were quickly stopped by your best friend grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the dance floor. It took everything to not pull your hand away and take off running. You didn’t want to be at this wedding and you sure as hell didn’t want to pretend that you were having a great time.

“Come dance with us,” she said, attempting to pull you onto the dance floor where her new husband was and all the bridesmaids.

“I’m gonna go get more alcohol,” you said before downing what was left of your champagne. You needed something stronger if you were going to survive tonight.

“You better dance with me before the night is over,” the bride said before dancing away.

You closed your eyes tightly and reluctantly saying, “okay.”

Turning on your heels you rolled your eyes and headed straight towards the bar. You weren’t even sure why you agreed to come to this wedding. Your best friend and new husband were quite aware of how uncomfortable their relationship made you feel.

Standing at the bar you found a man ordering a drink. He was a familiar face, and close friend that you were hoping could distract you. You were quite shocked to see him standing at the bar alone. At any event he always seemed to have some women falling at his feet.

“I need a real drink,” you sighed leaning against the bar.

“I can’t believe you even showed up,” Jeonghan said leaning against the bar with you. He looked absolutely handsome in a suit just like he always does.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again, “she begged me to come. She said she couldn’t get married without her best friend being here.”

You could vividly remember your best friend coming straight to your apartment after he proposed to her. They had only been dating a year and three months before he got down on one knee. Seeing the huge rock your best friend had on her ring finger made you feel like you had wasted three years of your life on the man that was going to marry your best friend.

“It’s safe to say at this point I would rather light myself on fire than be here,” you said, reaching over and grabbing the glass that was sitting in front of Jeonghan.

He smirked as he watched you standing next to him down the drink that just sat in front of him. He couldn’t help but let his dark eyes travel up and down your soft body. You're wearing a stunning blue dress that hugged your curves perfectly.

“You know everyone thinks she’s a terrible person for what she did to you,” Jeonghan said looking over at the bride who was dancing awkwardly with her new husband.

“Maybe something was wrong with me,” you said wondering why you weren't enough. You're the exact opposite of your best friend and you thought maybe you just weren’t enough for him. Maybe he wanted someone prettier like your best friend or someone is small and skinny.

“Or maybe you were just too good for him,” Jeonghan said, causing you to smile.

“Where’s Joshua?” You asked, attempting to change the subject.

“He flew home to see his parents. Also he said he wasn’t a fan of the lovely couple anymore after what they did to you.” From the moment Joshua found out about the bride and groom's engagement he practically stopped being friends with them. He took your side instantly and told you shouldn’t attend this wedding. You aren’t shocked he’s not here. You didn’t think Jeonghan would come. You’re shocked to see him here.

“You know I would have also skipped this and left for my business trip tonight but I hated the thought of you being here sad and not having anyone.”

“Lucky him he got to skip this wedding. You could have also skipped it. I would have been okay,” you said trying to not sound sad about his statement.

“I wanted to make sure I got to say a proper goodbye to you.” Jeonghan has a feeling his business trip was going to be a lot longer than a month and he couldn’t leave knowing you had to attend this wedding alone. “Would you dance with me?” Jeonghan asked, holding his hand out. This must be his attempt to change the subject.

You took your bottom lip between your teeth and slowly nodded. You reached out and took his hand as he led you to the dance floor. The band had switched it up from a fast tempo swing song to a slower song. Looking around you watched as boys and girls coupled up across the dance floor. You and Jeonghan have been friends most of your lives but they never danced or did anything romantic together. Back in the day when you were in college when Joshua and Jeonghan frat had a dance you actually went with Joshua not Jeonghan. You had gone most of your life having a crush on the man you’re dancing with. Jeonghan was the definition of a ladies man and constantly had ladies dying to go out with him. You couldn’t help but wonder where his date was for the wedding.

“Jeonghan, who did you bring tonight?” You asked wondering if you knew his date.

Resting his hands on your soft hips he pulled you closer to him and signaled for you to put your arms around his shoulders. He gave you that signature Yoon Jeonghan smirk that seemed to make all the girls melt as he stared into your eyes.

“I didn’t bring a date,” he simply stated.

You pushed your eyebrows together and gave him a confused look, it was rare Jeonghan ever went to an event without a date. “That’s odd,” you said with a little laugh as you swayed to the beat of the music. He didn’t say anything, Jeonghan just gave you a smile and pulled you slightly closer to his body. You swayed to the beat of the slow song the band was playing.

“I should have asked you to dance long before now,” he said softly.

“I was hiding in a corner not many people knew where I was,” you let out a soft little laugh.

He shook his head and said, “I’m saying I should have taken you out on a proper date.” His words caught you off guard. “I shouldn’t have waited until the night of your asshole ex’s wedding. And the night before I’m leaving for at least a month.” You blankly stared at him just confused by what he was saying to you. You have always had a crush on Jeonghan for most of your life, but you didn’t think in a million years he would ever return your feelings. He’s always been the talk around town with all the girls. He’s charming and oh so handsome. He could have any girl he could possibly ever want. You’re confused as to why he would want you.

“Why would you ask me out?” You asked speaking up for the first time.

“Because you’re pretty and funny and why wouldn’t I?” He stopped dancing and reached down and grabbed your hand. Lacing your fingers together he led you out of the ballroom where everyone was still dancing and you headed out to the balcony.

You stood outside in the crisp night air. You silently stared at him, not even sure what was going on. You weren't sure if this was all a nightmare for the fact you were at your best friend's wedding where the man she was marrying was your ex boyfriend or if it was a dream based on the fact Jeonghan just admitted he wished he’d taken you out on a proper date.

“Honey I like you, I have for a while,” he stated. Your eyes grew wide, shocked by his words. “You were so torn up by that asshole in there I didn’t know what to do.”

“You literally leave tomorrow for a month-long business trip,” you sighed. You weren't even going to get a chance with him before he was gone for a whole month, maybe even more.

“I’ll be back soon,” he whispered.

“What if they ask you to move there for your job?” You asked the one question that terrified you. Jeonghan worked for a big tech company and they were opening a new branch in Tokyo and they asked Jeonghan to help run it as they opened.

He dropped his head and looked at his feet. He had thought about that quite a bit.

“I’m going to come back and when I do. I’m going to take you on a proper date,” he placed his free hand under your chin and slowly tilted it up so you were looking right into his beautiful dark eye.

“Do you promise?” You asked, causing him to smile.

“Yes,” he nodded his head. “And if they ask me to stay longer I’ll fly you out to Tokyo. We can even try to do long distance.”

You hate the idea of long distance but you would do it in a heartbeat for him. “Okay.”

“Honey, can I kiss you?” he asked. You’ve always loved when he’s called you honey. He says he calls you it because you’re always so sweet to him. You didn’t say anything, you just nodded. You couldn’t lie, you dreamed about kissing Jeonghan since your early teenage years. Jeonghan and Joshua have been some of the only people who have constantly been in your life. His strong hand went from under your chin to resting on your cheek as he softly pressed his lips to yours. You smiled into his lips enjoying the feeling of his lips against yours. Pulling away he gave you that heart melting smirk. “That’s to be continued.”

You nodded and whispered, “to be continued.”

The two of you walked back inside to find the dancing had picked up again. At this point you had no desire to be at this wedding. You asked Jeonghan to wait by the door while you went and said goodbye to your best friend. Walking back to Jeonghan you asked him to walk you home. You walked hand in hand down the streets of the city until they arrived at your home.

Standing on the steps in front of your apartment you couldn’t help but smile as you looked at Jeonghan. You didn’t think you would ever get over how good he looked in a suit. His hands were in his pockets as he smirked at you. You couldn’t lie, you desperately wanted to spend the night with him.

“I want to invite you up,” you sighed.

“Honey, how much I would love to, why don’t we wait until I get back.” He reached up and rested his hand on your cheek. “You aren’t the type of girl to invite a guy upstairs before even the first date and I would love to do nothing more than go upstairs, but I need to take you out on a proper date.” His sweet words caused you to smile.

“Jeonghan, I don't want to wait until a proper date. I don’t want to wait a month or possibly more to finally be with you.” He’s silent for a moment as if he’s trying to figure out what to say.

“Are you sure?”

You don’t say anything, you just crash your lips into his. Your first kiss with Jeonghan is everything you’ve always imagined it would be.

He pulls away from you smiling, “let’s go up stairs.”

Walking inside your apartment you set out your heels and set your bag down. You can feel Jeonghan's eyes burning into you as he steps out of his shoes.

“I need to take my makeup off and change. I don’t want to be reminded of this wedding anymore.” You sigh.

“Why don’t you take a shower?” He asked.

You can play this one of two ways and you decide it’s time to be bold. Biting your bottom lip you muster up some confidence before saying, “will you join me?”

“Absolutely,” he smiles.

-

Standing under the warm water you watch him slowly join you in the shower. He’s so pretty he’s absolutely breathtaking. Neither of you say anything for a long moment, you just take in sight of both your naked bodies.

“I’ve dreamed of seeing you like this,” he says, breaking the silence. He steps closer to you resting his hand on the side of your neck. “Shau always gives me shit for not telling you how I felt.”

“I know you like me now,” reaching out resting your hand on his chest. “Are you going to show me how much you like me?”

“Is that what you want honey?” He leans forward so his forehead is resting against yours. “You want me to show you how pretty I think you are? And how badly I want you?”

“Please.”

Leaning in, he crashed his lips into yours for a heated kiss. His hand doesn’t leave your neck as your lips move together. Your finger tangled into his long blonde hair holding him close to you. You can feel his hardened length pressing against your stomach.

Pulling away you smile at him. If you’re only going to have one night, before you go possibly months not see him you want to make the most of it. You want to give him everything.

“I want you,” you say, stepping back.

“You can have me,” he says.

You drop down to your knees in front of him. He looks down at you with lust filled eyes. “This sight I never want to forget,” he pulls your hair away from your face.

You take his hardened length in your hands and slowly start to pump, feeling him growing even harder. You give kitten licks to his sensitive head. Looking up at him through your lash you see the intoxicating sight of him biting his lip holding back a moan. Hollowing your cheeks you take him in your mouth. One hand rests on his thigh to steady yourself.

You can tell he’s trying to show restraint allowing you to control what’s happening.

“Fuck- you’re good at this-“ he moans.

Releasing him with a pop you look at him and smile before slowly licking his sensitive slit that is already leaking salty precum. You take him in your mouth once again. This time he hits the back of your throat almost triggering your gag reflex.

“Baby I don’t want to blow in your mouth our first time,” he tugs on your hair gently. Sitting back on your hunches you look up at him trying to look innocent. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he sighs. He reached down, helping you stand up.

His lips crash into yours for a searing kiss. He moves you backwards with zero effort. Your back is against the cold tile wall. His hands are everywhere he can reach, before his long fingers slip through your wet folds. The moment his finger brushes your sensitive clit you instantly gasp. His other hand rests on your neck. You realize that this man has a fascination with your neck, but you won’t complain though.

“You’re so pretty.” He whispers with his lips against your jaw. “Is our first time together going to be in this shower?”

“God I want it to,” you sigh as his finger plays with your clit. His slender fingers know just the right way to touch you. Your body feels like a live wire.

“Do I need to get a condom?” His hands never leave your body.

“No, I'm on birth control and I’m clean. I’ve never had sex without a condom.” You sigh. You know you should probably ask him to get a condom but you don’t trust anyone more in this world then Yoon Jeonghan.

“Can I fuck you raw in the shower?” His lips brush against yours.

“Please.” You would beg this man for anything.

“I need you to come on my fingers and then you can come on my cock,” his finger dipped down inside you. His palm works against your sensitive clit while he pumps two fingers in and out of you.

“Fuck-“ you whimper. The coil in your stomach is tightening as you feel like you’re on the brink of falling apart.

“Honey, just come for me,” his hand on your throat adds a little bit of pressure pushing you over the edge. A white hot wave washes over you as you moan his name loudly.

Cleaning your eyes, your head rests back against the tile as you try to catch your breath. He slowly removes his fingers from your wet core. Bringing them up to his lips he licks them clean.

“God you’re beautiful when you come,” he smiles before pressing his lips to yours for another heated kiss.

“I need you to trust me,” he says, taking your hand. “Turn around and press your chest against the wall.” You don’t even question his request, you just do what he asks. The cold tile against your hardened nipples makes you gasp. His hand kneads the flesh of your ass while running his length between your folds. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you moan as his bulbous head nudges your clit.

One hand grips your hip as he pushes into you. This thrust are slow but deep. This angle has him hitting the deepest parts. Your cheek rest against the tile trying to ground yourself as Jeonghan fucks you. You can only moan his name as he repeatedly brushes your g spot.

Reaching between your legs you rub your clit knowing that you are desperately close to falling apart.

“Fuck you’re tight,” he moans. “How am I supposed to go to Tokyo for a month after knowing what it’s like to be inside you?”

“Jeonghan-“ you can’t think of anything other than his name. “I’m- clo-close” you moan.

“Where can I finish?” He asked.

“Inside-“

“Baby please come-“

“Close-“ you whine.

He picks up his pace desperately trying to push you over the edge. His fingers are digging into your hips. You have a feeling he might be leaving bruises. You’ll look at them as a reminder of what unfolds tonight. This time when your orgasm hits you it’s the hardest you have ever came. You feel like you’re on the edge of blacking out. Your eyes practically roll back in your head as your walls contact. Jeonghan falls apart right behind you moaning your name. He paints thick white ropes inside you. Slowly he pulls out watching as his cum slowly drips out of you while you’re still leaning against the wall. Standing there for a moment taking in the site if you before he grabs a washcloth and cleans up the mess he made.

He helps you turn around so your back is resting against the wall. The smile on his face makes you smile as well.

“I can’t wait till I’m home and I just get to constantly be with you.”

Jeonghan aftercare consisted of him washing your hair and taking the time to fully clean your body before he pulls you to bed. He spent the entire night holding you and kissing you. You have one last round together where he makes slow passionate love to you promising he’ll be back soon.

When morning comes you drive him to the airport and say your goodbyes for now. You know that you may not get to be fully together right now, but you know that being fully with Jeonghan is what the future holds for you.

If you have asked to be tagged I request that you please reblog. If you could leave comments and tags that would be greatly appreciated.

[simpjaes]

does rodeo by wayv give you best friend's husband jay vibes? like you moved away and started growing apart from your best friend but then run into her husband at a club when he's on a "business trip"?

also this is not me trying to bait you into a hard thot. just a random thot I wanted to share

this....is splendid. i personally can't write any form of sexual thoughts to rodeo tho ;-; i can, however, claim that the song red moon by kim wooseok also fits this prompt. so..... warnings: infidelity, not proof read and probably not that great to read bc im genuinely struggling to stay awake rn. wc: 687 You knew he looked familiar, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it until his fingers were in you.

~ Your eyes go wide mid-moan, noting those eyebrows that you suddenly remember so vividly. On his wedding day with your best friend, you recall the photo they sent to you after. His eyebrows were strong, almost angry looking despite the smile on his face in that photo. And no matter how close you and her were back then, you never really saw much of Jay to begin with. You never really saw much of her anymore either. Then again, you guess moving away plays a large part in that. "Jay?!" You suddenly yelp, trying to close your legs around his hand. He doesn't react though. As if you thought maybe he didn't recognize you either. He hadn't said your name at all tonight, and you can blame the drinks all you want. Both of you are well aware that neither of you are any more than tipsy. You rode in that car with him, straight to a nice hotel room. You walked right in, laid down on this bed, spread your legs, let him take your panties off, and now his fingers are splitting you open as if to prepare for for something bigger...and he hadn't said a damn thing? No, "Hey, how have you been?" Not a single "Oh! It's been a while!" And all you can do after saying his name in shock is lay here and feel the way he only moves his fingers faster. The way he hides his face from you by way of trailing his tongue down your stomach, straight to where his fingers are. All you can do is grab his hair, and grind against that same tongue that shouldn't be on you...or in you. You see his wedding ring. Fuck, you feel it when he grabs at your thighs and you just...let it happen. Thoughts of, fuck... is this why she married him? Is this why she never let you actually hang out when he was around? Is this how good he treats her? "Jay..." You trail off this time in something that sounds like a moan, rubbing your clit up and against his nose as you feel the bubbles in your gut. "Does she know?" He lends you a few more licks, a few more fucks of his fingers, and then pulls out. He looks at you for a long moment, then trails his eyes down to himself. He doesn't intend to answer your question. Instead, he reaches down and pulls his cock out, flashing it at you as if it'll keep you from asking more questions. It works, for the most part. You were going to stop him. You were going to ask why he's fucking around on your best friend. Instead, you find yourself gripping his torso much like she probably does. He plays with you longer, sliding his tip through your folds with a small smile forming on his face. "Hm?" He tilts his head in a hum, as if daring you to try asking that question again. Knowing he can easily shut you up if you do. "Does who know?" You squeeze your eyes shut at the feeling of him pressing in. A thick head pulsing pre-cum against your walls every inch of the way, up until you're clinging to him so desperately that you're sure he's bleeding. "We've never met." He says playfully through a breath. God, you know you're leaving marks on him. "We were never here." You're sure he can't hide it from her now. Good. He deserves to be caught. Despite everything with your best friend, the distance, the lack of talking....she doesn't deserve this. And you'll back her up if she finds out. She doesn't have to know it's you who left those marks. She doesn't have to know you liked it either. And you do like it. Far, far too much. To the point that each thrust has you questioning why you'd care at all if she found out it was you who let her husband get his dick wet. It was you who left these marks. You who got to cum all over him. You. And what about him? Eating you out? That's intimate. Fingering you. Fucking you. Even kissing you. Surely, she's done something to have him seeking out other women, right? Surely, he wouldn't be fucking you this good if she mattered at all.

[wifewithasecret314]

Roommate's Dad

During my junior year of college, one of my roommate's dads was visiting for Dad's weekend. Since my dad couldn't make it this year, it was just a normal weekend for me. I had plans to get drunk and head downtown with some of my sorority sisters. As I finished getting dolled up and getting ready, my roommate and her dad had just gotten back from dinner, and he was dropping her off before heading back downtown to his hotel. Hearing that I was also headed that way, he kindly offered to give me a ride instead of grabbing an Uber.

Overall her dad was a pretty attractive guy. He was in his early 50s with your classic Dad bod and short facial hair. We chatted casually about his daughter and college during the ride, but as we approached downtown, I started to wonder if I should have some fun with the situation. Odds were that I would end up with a guy from the club that evening so why not try something new? It also helped that I was already pretty drunk at this point from pregaming... Seeing his hotel ahead, I turned to him and asked, "Do you want to take me to your hotel room?" Now, this wasn't a fair question given what I was wearing, and without a word he pulled into the hotel parking lot.

We got out of his car and he led me to his room in silence. If anyone saw us walking together, they probably thought I was a prostitute; some fit college girl young enough to be this man's daughter dressed in high heels and a short fuck-me skirt.

Upon entering his room, I walked straight to the bed. I pulled up my short skirt, bent over the bed, and looked back at him with my best fuck-me eyes. He called me a naughty girl and then walked over to the bed, grabbed my ass and pushed me down onto my stomach before he started devouring my pussy from behind. His facial hair felt so good rubbing against my skin as his tongue flickered around my clit. I knew immediately that I had made the right decision.

Once he made me cum all over his face, we both paused to take off the rest of our clothes. He stood there at the edge of the bed with his hard cock just inches in front of my face while I kneeled on all fours looking up at him. I asked him what his wife would think of him fucking his daughter's friend. Taking his big daddy cock in his hand, he slapped it against my face before shoving it in my little mouth without uttering a response. He proceeded to grab my hair and fuck my little mouth.

Once he was satisfied, he pulled my mouth off his cock and laid down on the bed. I proceeded to suck his cock some more before climbing on top of him. He grabbed my tight college ass in his hands and bounced me on his cock. I don't know what it is about older men, but they always make you cum so hard. I proceeded to ask him how my tight body compared to his wife's while he fucked me from below. He remained nearly silent the whole time which only made me tease him more and more.

After riding him for a while, he pushed me off his cock and leaned me against the head board. He proceeded to grab me by the hips and pound my little ass from behind. At this point I had cum more times than I could count. Turning back to look at him, I asked him if he liked fucking his daughter's best friend. Finally getting through to him, he grabbed me by the neck and pushed my head down into the pillows. His whole body weight slapping against my ass while I moaned like a whore. I'm sure all of the neighbors could have heard my screams.

Thoroughly exhausted from the sheer number of orgasms, I could tell that he was getting close. Looking back at him with my big blue eyes, I told him, "Cum on my face, daddy," He pulled out and let out a moan as he came all over my pretty little face.

After cleaning myself up in the bathroom, I got dressed and walked over to the club where my sorority sisters were sure to be waiting. On my way out the door, I turned back to him and said, "Thanks Mr. XXX! Can't wait until the next time you visit."

That was the only time anything happened between us unfortunately... The next time that I got to see him was at graduation when both he and his wife visited. I made sure to remind him how great it was to meet him during Dad's weekend right in front of her. Fortunately, neither his wife or daughter ever found out and that night

[deanstead]

Worth It

Pairing: Matt Casey x Reader

Requested: no

Summary: Y/N struggles with demands from a friend, and Matt solidifies the fact he will always be in her corner.

Word Count: 2.6K+

Warnings/Tags: toxic friendships

A/N: something bugged me recently so here’s a fic! This can be a bit of a controversial take based on the context but didn’t want to go full on in the fic so anyway~ just needed to get this off my chest.

“Baby, I’m…” Matt’s voice drifted off slightly before he completed his sentence, “…home.”

You could only imagine being Matt and coming home to this sight.

You were seated in the middle of the living room in the apartment you shared with Matt, surrounded by yarn, bits of fluff stuck in your hair, sheets of sketched designs strewn across the floor.

You could feel the panic rise even more as you took in the look on Matt’s face. Especially since you couldn’t read his emotions as the anxiety clouded your brain.

“Matt, I…” 

You couldn’t continue as you felt your chest tighten just a little, the anxiety and panic clawing its way to the surface and rearing its ugly head at you. 

This had all started with Amy.

Amy.

She was a friend you’d known for almost your entire life. You’d laughed together, cried together, dreamed about the future together and talked about those dreams. Along the way, you both had stumbled, you saw less of each other, and Amy reached out less, sometimes forgetting to respond to your messages. Despite what everyone told you, you convinced yourself that it was just how life was and you made excuses for Amy’s growing absence in your life.

Then, she’d reached out to tell you she was getting married.

You felt the excitement first, remembering it like it was yesterday, how you had both talked excitedly about how you would be each other’s bridesmaids. It wasn’t a conscious memory, but it was like your brain had pulled it up, triggered by the words Amy was saying.

You didn’t even feel any apprehension when she asked if you would make the flowers for the bridesmaids. You weren’t too confident because crocheted flowers weren’t really your thing. In fact, you’d only tried it out once. So you’d told Amy you’d give it a shot, make a prototype and see how it went.

You could tell Matt hadn’t been thrilled with the idea but he didn’t say much, only offering opinions when you asked for them and keeping most of his comments focused on the task rather than Amy. Yet, you knew he was holding back. You knew Matt didn’t feel great about Amy, mainly because of the things he’d witnessed, in particular, the way she blew back into your life when it was convenient for her.

But things had been going downhill ever since you’d made the first prototype. She kept changing what she wanted, and even you were getting a little frustrated, mixed with a desire not to disappoint her.

So, having Matt stand there with a surprised look on his face in the middle of an extremely messed up living room only added to your current panic.

You felt your breath quicken and very soon, Matt’s figure was clouded by the tears you didn’t realize had pooled behind your eyes.

Without saying anything, Matt dropped whatever was in his arms, heading straight for you and folding you nice and tight into his arms. 

“Y/N, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Matt whispered quietly, and you felt the rumble of his chest before your breathing slowly evened out once again.

Matt didn’t move immediately, but his fingers brushed off the residual tears that were rolling down your cheeks.

“Sorry, I don’t…” 

Matt just tightened his arms a little and pressed a kiss firmly to the top of your head.

“Sorry,” You mumbled, scrubbing off the remnants of tears on your cheeks before glancing up at him.

Matt shook his head and leaned down for another kiss and you leaned into his embrace, temporarily forgetting about the mess in the living room.

By the time you woke up the next morning, there was barely a trace of the mess last night. The yarn was back in the boxes you had in the corner of the room and the half done flowers were laid out neatly on the kitchen counter.

No one else would have guessed what had happened the night before. 

Matt was almost on his way out, draining the last sip of his coffee and smiling as you walked into the kitchen.

He didn’t ask but just studied your face for a little longer than usual.

You smiled back at him and nodded. “Go on, I’m fine.” You assured him, even though you stepped toward him and nuzzled your face into his shoulder.

Matt pressed you lightly against him and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You know where to find me if you need me.” Matt whispered gently into your ear.

You smiled into his shoulder with a small nod before both of you pulled away and you let Matt go before he was late for shift.

Even as the door closed behind Matt, you felt it rear to the surface. This time, the feeling was different. It wasn’t even residual anxiety from the night before. You couldn’t put your finger on it but it was bugging you.

Deciding that it might be good to have a change of pace, you grabbed the materials you needed, slung the tote bag over your shoulders and left the house, figuring you’d find a nice cafe to work out of.

So you did and you had been right. A change of environment had done wonders for you and you finally had a final prototype for the new flower idea Amy had had.

You snapped a photo and sent it to Amy, quoting as reasonable a price you could for the materials and stitches. You even gave her what she called a ‘friend discount’. 

But for someone who sometimes took days to respond to you, her response was quick now.

It’s a little out of my budget.

Thereafter, she proceeded to give you a price she was willing to pay that was such a lowball, you almost dropped your phone.

It took you a moment and another few breaths to register that feeling bubbling up in your chest now. You recognised it as a more intense version of what you had been feeling that morning. Now, you could indeed put your finger on it - Disappointment.

It was disappointment that raged within you. Especially when you’d always treated Amy like a sister.

You felt it swell as you thought about the effort you’d put in all these years, even just the effort in designing flowers she would want for her wedding, and then you remembered the many times she’d blown you off, and when she’d been dating that toxic ex of hers and had cut you out of her life for more than a year until the break up.

Resisting the urge to send her a scathing reply, you stuffed the rest of your belongings into your bag and headed out the cafe, only realizing where your legs had taken you when you looked up at the firehouse in front of you.

The trucks were all parked which meant everyone was around. 

Now that you were here, you had second thoughts and you were about to retreat, thinking you’d talk to Matt during breakfast the next day when you heard an all too familiar voice call out to you.

“Y/N?”

Of course today would be the day Kelly came to get something out of his car.

“Hey, Kelly.” You greeted back, your voice sounding weird even to you.

Kelly either didn’t notice or chose not to mention it. He just smiled and nodded. “Come on, Casey’s in his office.”

You didn’t protest, letting Kelly lead you in as if it was your first time visiting the firehouse.

Everyone called out toward you with smiles and you waved back at them as you made your way through the common room and toward Matt’s office.

“Look who I found,” Kelly called with a casual rap at Matt’s door.

Matt sat up, glancing at you before smiling. “Thanks, Sev.”

Kelly winked, more at you than him, before leaving the both of you alone.

Matt got up to close his door and glanced at you. “Everything okay?”

After all, you rarely came to the firehouse without a call beforehand. Usually, you were worried about being in the way so you only came to bring them some food, especially when you’d heard it was a difficult shift.

You nodded. “Nothing big, I just…”

You held back a heavy sigh and just handed him your phone.

Matt’s eyes moved across your phone screen as he read the message and you could see the slight darkening of his expression, even though he was trying to keep it under control.

Matt looked back up at you and handed your phone back to you. “So what are you thinking?” Matt asked.

You shouldn’t have been shocked by Matthew Casey’s complete focus on your feelings, but you couldn’t help the little jolt of warmth that still filled you even though you and Matt had been dating for a long while.

You shrugged and Matt gave you a look, which just made you smile.

“Fine, I’m annoyed. It’s like every single moment with her has been flashing in my head since I got that message and the annoyance has been piling. That’s why I haven’t responded.”

“Go for it, babe.” Matt said, matter of factly.

You glanced at him with half a smile.

“You deserve to be treated with respect and I think it’s high time someone told her. And if you don’t want to do it, I’d be happy to.” Matt said, his voice laced with a subtle protectiveness.

You pulled him toward you, just so you can lay your head against him and smiled. “Thank you.”

The conversation had gone about as you’d expected. 

You tried your best to keep your side as light as possible while remaining firm, and ultimately, the decision had been for you to try to do little flower wristlets for Amy’s flower girls, instead of a large order of flowers.

You weren’t too thrilled to do it anymore, but a part of you felt obliged to, so you’d agreed.

It was only two days later that you had run into Amy when Matt had taken you out for dinner.

“Hey, I…” You greeted her even from a distance, trying to keep things as normal as possible.

But you didn’t miss the look on her face as she turned away, as if she was pretending not to see you.

Instinctively, you glanced up at Matt, your expression one of disbelief.

Matt just squeezed your hand but you could see the strain lines on his face which were a clear telltale sign he was using all his effort to hold back.

Matt was trying to reassure you, but the only thing you felt now was anger.

There was no more second-guessing on your part about whether you had been too harsh or too mean. You knew the answer. 

You were about to open a small side business for your crochet. All your friends, including Amy, knew that.

In fact, anyone who tried to ask you to make something for them had always offered you more than what you quoted, reminding you that friends didn’t take each other for a ride.

Amy was the exact opposite and what really grinded at you was the fact that she thought she was well within her rights to be angry at you.

You were a little confused but the anger had swallowed it all up.

“You want to go elsewhere?” Matt offered.

You glanced up at him.

If this had been anyone else, it might have made you avoid the situation altogether. But right now, the indignant feeling had turned into anger.

“Why should we? You put in so much effort into trying to get a reservation here. Let’s just have a good dinner.” You answered.

 This felt like a huge breakthrough moment for you, even Matt felt it - you could do anything you had set your mind to. 

You sat down with Matt in a corner of the restaurant, pretty sure that Matt had used one of his superpowers to get the both of you a great table and you turned your back on Amy, focusing all your energy and attention on the one person who was worth it.

Once the appetisers were served, you’d thrown Amy to the back of your mind, sinking into Matt’s company and enjoying the date night that both of you deserved. 

It was just as the both of you had stepped out after paying the bill when someone grabbed your arm. 

“Food’s great here, isn’t it?”

You blinked back in disbelief at Amy, who was smiling as if nothing had happened.  

It would have been much better if you hadn’t met her in front of the restaurant earlier. Now, you were just wondering what the hell she was doing.

Matt didn’t say anything, just stood by your side and waited.

“What are you doing?” You asked, unable to hold it back any longer. There was a slight tremor in your voice that no one but Matt picked up on. 

The saddest part was Amy used to be able to. Now, she just didn’t care.

That realization hit you hard but also allowed you to look her straight in the eye.

Frustratingly, Amy was staring at you as if she was confused by your question.

When you didn’t offer her any explanation, she swallowed and spoke, “Come on, Y/N. I told you I was on a budget. You’re my friend, I didn’t expect you to try and profit off my wedding.”

You glanced up at Matt just a little and he merely nodded in encouragement.

“Profit? Amy, you agreed to pay! You are literally the only person that has lowballed me for anything crochet related. I’m not even asking you to pay me for the prototypes or the materials used for it. Have you looked up the prices online? I’m profiting nothing.” You paused and looked her directly in the eye. “Look, I think this isn’t a good idea. “

“What are you saying? You don’t want to talk about it?” Amy asked, and you could hear the tone in her voice change slightly.

You sighed. “I’m saying I don’t think I can make anything for your wedding, or be your bridesmaid. I’ve said everything that needs to be said.”

“Y/N, you… What am I supposed to tell my family?”

You couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped your lips. You shouldn’t have expected anything else but the fact that she was more worried about having to explain what had happened to her family members who had always treated you as one of their own, spoke volumes.

“You can tell them what happened, Amy. Just remember that if anyone calls me, I’m telling the truth.”

Matt smiled and slung an arm around you, turning to lead you away before he paused.

He glanced back at Amy before he spoke, “She cared. She really cared and you threw it back in her face. She deserves someone who treats her as a friend.”

You tugged at Matt’s arm and Matt sighed before taking you away with him.

The journey home had been pretty silent and Matt only broke it as he closed the door behind the both of you and hung both your jackets by the door.

“You okay?”

You glanced up at him and nodded before you pulled back again and shrugged. “Kind of, you know? I’m upset but like it also feels lighter? If that makes sense.”

“It just has to make sense to you. The only thing important to me is how you are feeling right now.”

You stepped into Matt’s embrace and smiled against him. 

“With you? Matthew Casey, I’m on top of the freaking world.”

Matt smiled, leaning back enough to take a look at you before pressing his lips gently to yours in a deep kiss.

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[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Disclaimer: No one is crazy about him atm, me included, so this is strictly for my readers and my readers only. I don’t condone his behavior at all -Just let me finish out this fic please. Don’t come for me. I’m only a girl with a google doc whose spent hours upon hours and days on end on this fic

Chapter 9 - Waiting | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.8k

You could feel the party roaring on, its energy vibrant and chaotic in the distance as you slipped out of the bathroom with Trent, hearts still racing. The hallway was dimly lit, a contrast to the pulsing lights spilling in from the main room. You smoothed your hair and adjusted your skirt, trying to steady your breathing and regain composure, but Trent was having none of it. Walking just a step behind you, he slipped his hand under your skirt one last time, his fingers grazing your thigh before giving your ass a firm squeeze. The touch sent a shiver through you, your cheeks heating as you whipped your head around to glare at him.

"T!" you whispered, half-scolding, though your voice was laced with a breathless laugh. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as the noise from the party almost drowned out his words.

"Thank you for conceding. I was dying, baby." He smirked. You giggled, swatting at his hand to shoo him away. 

"Get off," you whispered again, but the playfulness in your tone betrayed you. “You’re welcome though.” You giggled as you walked further down the hallway, closer to where the rest of the party unfolded.

"I'm keeping my eye on you, yeah?" he hummed, his voice low and teasing. He winked, his hand lingering just long enough to squeeze yours tenderly, the contrast between his touch and his earlier intensity making your heart flutter. With a small, knowing smirk, you drifted back into the crowd, feeling his gaze follow you as you melted into the masses. You didn't need to turn around to know he was watching-he always was. Separating in the chaos of the party, it felt like a secret tether still held you together, pulling you back even when you were apart. You spotted Layla across the room, leaning into an intense conversation. Her laughter echoed above the music, but the second she caught your eye, she excused herself and made a beeline toward you, excitement lighting up her face. She didn’t hesitate, grabbing both of your arms.

“Excuse me….Did you actually just fuck Trent Alexander-Arnold in the loo?” she whispered, her grin widening as she looked at you expectantly, a bit in disbelief. You couldn’t help but smirk, trying to stifle a laugh. 

“Mmhm,” you hummed, a guilty glint in your eye. “Layla….It was…” You began to recount the affair but she cut you off.

“Jesus, this is wild,” she muttered, almost to herself, as if processing it out loud. “I can’t believe this. You’re—this is Trent. And you,” she emphasized, poking your arm, “you and Trent were in a bathroom and you’re sucking him off now? How did we get here?” The two of you dissolved into a fit of giggles, the energy between you bubbling over as you shared every hidden detail and guilty laugh. And somehow, between the laughter, you ended up spilling the parts you’d barely even admitted to yourself.

“It’s… I don’t know. There’s so many sides to it with him. There’s this, like, spontaneous, messy, public-side of things where I’m sending him nudes and he’s meeting me in the bathroom for sex. Like you watched it unfold. The tension is so thick.” You blushed, a little buzzed warmth spreading as you recalled the night’s earlier escapade and all the teasing that led to it. “And then, when it’s just us, alone… I don’t think I’ve ever felt so connected to someone. Like it feels so… I feel so… seen.” You told her. Layla raised an eyebrow, her smile softening as she nodded, seeing a depth in your expression that went far beyond the thrill of a secret. 

“Wow… so you’re proper into him, not like the idea… it’s not the years of build up, but like him as a person, right now, you’re down for him,” she said, almost in awe that things had finally come into fruition. You nodded slowly, cautiously realizing it was true. 

“It’s more than just the sex too…” you trailed off, but she finished the thought for you, nodding again.

“Way more.” She told you, confirming she understood. She tried not to pout at you. If you told your younger self this was happening she’d probably scream. You both fell into a comfortable silence, letting it all sink in. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him—Jack, your brother, entering the room, his usual wide grin plastered on his face as he chatted easily with the girl, Megan, he was seeing. The moment you saw him, a pang of guilt swept through you, knocking the breath from your lungs. Jack had been so carefree tonight, so… oblivious. It almost made it worse. He had no idea, and the secrecy felt like a weight pressing down on you. Layla seemed to notice the shift in you immediately, slipping an arm around you in a comforting side hug. 

“You know… he’d want to know,” she whispered, her tone gentle. You looked at her, brows furrowing with doubt. 

“Would he really though? I mean, this is Jack we’re talking about... And me… and Trent.” You wryly smiled. She gave a small laugh.

“Okay, maybe not the details you just gave me,” she admitted, nudging you playfully. “But yeah, I think he’d want to know in general. Especially since you’re saying this isn’t just… bathroom hookups and sneaking around.” You bit your lip, eyes drifting back to where Jack was laughing without a care. The two of you never kept things from each other. And hiding something this big, this serious—it felt wrong. Layla, noticing your conflicted expression, gave your arm a gentle squeeze.

“It’s not like you’re keeping it from him to hurt him, same as you didn’t do that with me,” she said quietly, a touch of sympathy in her voice. “But… you’re really in deep, babe. And if things with Trent are what they seem to be… then Jack probably deserves to know. If only because he’s your brother.” You nodded slowly, her words hitting closer than you wanted to admit. It was true—you didn’t just want the thrill, the excitement of being with Trent. You wanted the real parts too, the ones that lasted beyond the whispers and the hiding. But if that was what you wanted, then hiding didn’t make sense anymore.

Leaving the party felt like slow, deliberate torture. Every step away from Trent was a struggle, a quiet war between what you wanted and what you knew you couldn’t have tonight. The air outside was cool, biting against your skin as you walked toward the car with Jack and Megan, but the warmth of Trent’s hand brushing against yours one last time still lingered like a ghost. Megan gave him a quick hug, her laugh ringing out as she pulled away, while Jack dapped him up with a playful comment about seeing him later. Then it was your turn. His eyes softened when they met yours, filled with a tenderness he couldn’t show in front of your brother. He pulled you into a slow, lingering hug, wrapping his arms tightly around you as if trying to silently convey everything he couldn’t say out loud. You buried your face into his chest for a brief second, inhaling his scent, before forcing yourself to pull back. Jack and Megan were already turning toward the car, their backs to you, but you felt exposed, like the hug alone had been too much. Trent leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek, and when you looked up at him, your eyes were glassy, emotions threatening to spill over. He tilted his head, his gaze steady but soft, and mouthed, ‘Go on.’ The words felt heavier than they should have. They weren’t a command—they were permission, an unspoken reassurance that he’d still be there, waiting, even if you had to walk away right now. Your throat tightened as you nodded, stepping back reluctantly and turning toward the car. Every step was agony. You could feel his eyes on you, and you knew if you looked back, you’d break and the secret would be out or worse… maybe he wouldn’t be there. The pull to run back to him, to grab his hand and leave together, was almost unbearable, but you kept moving. The distance between you grew, and with it, the ache in your chest deepened. Sliding into the car beside Jack and Megan, you stared out the window, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your emotions in check. The vibration of your phone broke the silence, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was.

'Call me when you get home. Pls xx.'

The text made your heart ache even more. You wanted nothing more than to be with him, to skip the pretending and sneaking around. But instead, you pressed your head against the cool glass, the world outside shifting into a blur.

You said goodnight to Megan and Jack, leaving them in the kitchen, their playful banter filling the space as they shared slices of late-night pizza. Their laughter echoed down the hallway, warm and light, but it only deepened the ache in your chest. It was a reminder of something you couldn’t have—not right now, not openly. In your en suite, you began the ritual of taking off your makeup, your reflection staring back at you with tired eyes and a growing sense of loneliness. The muffled sound of Megan and Jack’s laughter still carried through the walls, a sharp contrast to the silence of your own thoughts. You felt disconnected, like you were watching life happen around you while standing just outside of it. The ache in your chest swelled, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if Trent had really meant it when he asked you to call. Was it just something he said to soften the blow of walking away? You tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter. But it did. You wanted him—his voice, his presence, his reassurance. Before you could second-guess yourself, you picked up your phone, scrolling to his name. Your thumb hovered for just a moment before you pressed Call. The line didn’t ring for long before he answered, skipping the formality of a greeting altogether.

“You in bed f’me, pretty girl?” His voice was low, velvety, and full of mischief, but beneath it, there was a warmth that made your chest tighten. The familiarity of it washed over you, melting away the doubt you’d felt just moments before. You couldn’t help but smile, even though he couldn’t see it. 

“Maybe I am,” you teased softly, leaning against the bathroom counter. Subconsciously pushing your boobs together as if for him, as if he was there. 

“Don’t play coy, baby,” he murmured, the sound of his voice alone enough to make you feel less alone. “Tell me. Are you in bed, waiting for me to call and say goodnight?” He asked you sweetly but there was an undercurrent of seduction. The idea of him in your bed had your imagination running wild with the things you wish you could do right now. You let out a small laugh, the tension of the night loosening ever so slightly. 

“Not yet. I’m still getting ready.” You cooed softly.

“Hmm,” he hummed, the sound deep and indulgent. “Take your time, yeah? Then get comfy for me. I’m not hanging up.” His confidence wrapped around you like a blanket, making you feel safer than you had all evening. You leaned against the counter, letting his voice fill the quiet space, hoping this call would stretch long into the night. You kept him on the line, the sound of his voice soothing you as you moved through your nighttime routine. It was easy to let yourself get lost in his casual tone, the way he teased and spoke to you as if nothing about this situation was out of the ordinary. But that’s what gnawed at you—you hated how okay he seemed with it all. The sneaking, the hiding, the distance. It was second nature to him, and it made you feel like maybe you weren’t as different as you thought. Finally, you crawled into bed, pulling the blankets tight around you as though they could replace his warmth. The emptiness of the space beside you felt glaring, and you couldn’t shake the longing. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to be content with just the sound of his voice.

“Y’alright, baby?” Trent’s voice was softer now, his playful edge giving way to genuine concern. You hesitated, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Yeah,” you lied, though your tone betrayed you.

“Don’t do that,” he murmured, his voice a quiet plea. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?” He asked a question he already knew the answer to. You let out a sigh, your emotions threatening to spill over. 

“I just… I hate this,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly. “I hate that you’re not here. I hate that we can’t just be normal. I hate that I feel like this while you seem… fine.” The line was silent for a moment, his breathing the only sound. 

“You think I’m fine?” he finally asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Y/N, I’m trying to keep it together because if I don’t, I’ll go mad. You think I don’t hate this too? That I don’t wish I could be there with you right now?” You swallowed hard, your heart twisting at his words. 

“Then why are you so okay with it?” You snapped a bit harsher than you meant to. Maybe it was the liquor or maybe you genuinely were annoyed. 

“I’m not,” he said firmly. “I’m not okay with it at all. I just—” He paused, struggling to find the words. “I hate seeing you upset. I hate knowing you’re there alone. But what am I supposed to do? Show up at your place with Jack there? Ruin everything?” His voice softened, a raw vulnerability creeping in. “I miss you, baby. So much it’s driving me insane. But this is how it has to be.” He cooed as tears slipped down your cheeks as you clutched the phone tighter. 

“I just want you here,” you whispered. You really weren’t sure if this was fueled by liquor or love. You felt like you could taste the tequila though. You could hear his sigh, feel the shared frustration hanging in the air between you.

“I know,” he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. “Me too.” The silence stretched between you, heavy with longing and frustration. He tried to comfort you, whispering soft reassurances, but it did little to ease the ache of his absence. Nothing could. You closed your eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of his voice, pretending it was enough. 

“I wish I was with you. You can’t imagine how hard this is for me. Maybe we could’ve just—” He began to talk but you interrupted him.

“But we can’t, we’ve said that… I know” you snapped again, cutting him off harshly though your tone softened immediately after as you added a confessional. “I’d give anything to be with you right now.” You whispered meekly. 

“Well,” he murmured, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver through you, “I’m still here, baby. Maybe not how we want… but I’m not going anywhere.” He reassured you.

“Promise?” you whispered, clutching your phone a little tighter, feeling silly but needing to hear him actually say it. 

“Promise,” he said gently, like it was the easiest promise he’d ever make. A warmth flooded through you at the thought, as though you’d somehow erased the space between you. Even as you said goodnight, you could still feel him with you, his voice lingering in your mind long after you’d both hung up.

Leaving the party separately had been a harsh reminder of what you were hiding, a chasm between the life you had with Trent and the life you wanted. On the outside, you tried to act like it was fine—just some casual, lighthearted fling—but inside, you knew better. You felt yourself slipping deeper into something real with him, you heard yourself admitting things to him over the phone you probably shouldn’t have. That you missed him, you wanted him, all of it and it terrified you as much as it thrilled you. But for Trent, maybe that weight felt different. He was in deep with you too, but he couldn’t shake that you were Jack’s little sister. It added a whole other layer, a silent complicating factor neither of you could ignore. So when you invited him over for a night in, hoping you’d have a rare moment of normalcy, you half-expected him to agree. Just for once, you wanted him to choose you without hesitation. Not have him in control. You wanted to take the reins for a change, feel like equals in this. But that same night, Noah invited the boys for a movie, it was as if all your unspoken fears were confirmed. Trent texted you back, saying he’d already agreed to go to Noah’s. He tried to explain it, to make it seem like he was doing it ‘for’ you but there was no reasoning that made it make sense.

'If I disapear too much the lads will start asking questions, yk?' 'Just trying to keep things lowkey' 'Can't risk you, baby' 'You understand, yeah?'

As much as you tried to rationalize it—remind yourself that he was being practical, maybe even protective—it still stung. You felt like you’d been put back in a box, hidden away for the sake of convenience. The ache of not being chosen sat heavy in your chest, wrapping around your heart as the minutes passed, and you couldn’t ignore the sting of it. You’d never asked for much: just for him to show up, to be with you for one night in a way that didn’t involve excuses or sneaking around. It was sneaking around but at least you were the one orchestrating it. You wanted him to want you enough to choose you over everyone else. Sitting alone in your room, you considered texting him back. Your fingers hovered over the screen, wondering if you should tell him how you felt—that it wasn’t just about wanting his company, but needing him to prioritize you, even if just for a night. But you didn’t. You were too afraid of saying too much, of sounding needy, or worse—of pushing him away. You’d already felt like you’d let him know too much. 

Instead, you set your phone aside, biting back the words that threatened to spill out. The silence felt like it was swallowing you whole, and your room suddenly felt unbearably empty. You laid back against your pillow, staring up at the ceiling, trying to let the quiet lull you into some kind of acceptance. You told yourself he was just being practical, that he was trying to be careful, but it didn’t stop the feeling of being second. You wanted to be the person he chose without having to justify it, without having to feel like an afterthought or a secret tucked away out of convenience.

Hours passed, and the room grew colder, but your thoughts wouldn’t relent. You tried to remember the good moments, the way he held you close when you woke up together, the way he whispered in your ear with that effortless charm. You tried to replay those memories in your head, hoping they’d soften the ache, but all they did was remind you of what was missing right now. It wasn’t just the thrill of sneaking around or the excitement of a late-night rendezvous. It was him—all of him. You wanted his laughter, his warmth, his undivided attention, and his willingness to show up for you without needing a reason or an excuse. It hurt to realize that as much as you both felt something real, this still felt fragile. It was so precious and yet so precarious, a relationship built on stolen moments and hushed promises, kept alive by the hope that maybe one day it would be more. You wondered how much longer you could go on like this, hiding, hoping, feeling torn between the undeniable attraction and the fear that you’d always come second. A pang of hurt riffled through your chest wondering if you’d be strong enough to even get out of this. You wanted to be with him, and you wanted him to feel the same way without holding back. But tonight, lying there alone, you couldn’t ignore the whispering doubts that crept into your mind. Maybe this was all it would ever be—a secret romance, hidden away, safe from the prying eyes but not from the ache of feeling like you were only a part of his life when it was convenient. And as much as you wanted to deny it, a part of you wondered how long you could keep going like this, waiting for the day he’d choose you openly, without hesitation, without excuses.

The silence had grown too heavy, and the second you texted Layla, she was on her way over, sensing the need for support without question. Minutes later, she arrived, all energy and anticipation, ready for a debrief. You couldn’t help but spill everything—how Trent had chosen a night with the boys over time with you, his excuses about ‘keeping things low-key,’ and how much it had stung to feel like you were being hidden, set aside when convenient. Layla’s temper flared but she bit her tongue and let you continue on. But as you wrapped up, Layla’s eyes glimmered with a knowing smirk and a plan. 

“If he wants to pie you off for the lads… remind him of all the ways you aren’t one of them, why you’re the better option. His only option.” She shifted on the bed, crossing her arms as she raised an eyebrow. 

“Lays…” You laughed, but there was caution in your tone as you murmured her name, sensing where she was going.

“Call him right now.” She leaned in, her voice firm and commanding. “He likes games so much—let’s play one,” she added with a mischievous glint, and you couldn’t help the grin that broke out. You adjusted yourself on the bed, propping up your phone as she settled in beside you, giving you a conspiratorial nod. Your fingers hovered over Trent’s name, your nerves buzzing with a mix of excitement and anticipation. You hit the call button, and after a few rings, he picked up. You lounged back against the pillows, your phone resting on speaker between you and Layla. She was biting her lip to suppress her giggles, her eyes sparkling with mischief as you waited for Trent to answer. When Trent saw your name flash on your phone, his heart skipped a bit. He wanted to answer but he couldn’t, Jack was on the other end of the couch. He was swift darting out the room. When he finally did pick up, now safely tucked in the lonely confines of Noah’s kitchen, his voice was soft, quiet, laced with distraction. 

"Y’alright, baby," he greeted, sounding casual, completely unaware of what was about to hit him.

“Hi," you replied, your voice a sultry purr. You knew exactly what you were doing. "I didn’t expect you to pick up with the movie and all…What are you up to?" you asked. 

"Nah, you know I’d always pick up your call," he answered, the faint hum of voices and a movie’s score blaring in another room audible in the background.

"Hmm," you hummed, dragging the sound out just enough to catch his attention. You glanced at Layla, who was already covering her mouth to muffle her laughter. "I've just been lying here... feeling so bored today." Trent didn't pick up on it immediately, his voice still distracted. 

"Yeah? What've you been doing, pretty girl?" He asked aimlessly, just happy to hear you talk. Your lips curved into a devilish smile, and you decided to drop the bomb. 

"Nothing much, haven’t left my bed really" you murmured, keeping your tone soft, teasing. "Just... thinking about you. All day. It's been driving me crazy." You cooed teasingly. There was a pause, a sharp inhale on the other end. 

"What?" His tone shifted instantly, the casual air replaced by something much more focused.

"I've been so horny, baby," you whispered, your voice low, almost a whine. "And now I'm all alone, just... lying here. Thinking about you." You whimpered. “What we’d be doing.” You doubled down and Layla made a face shocked at how easily this all flowed out of your mouth. Trent went completely silent for a moment. You could picture him, frozen in place, probably running a hand over his jaw as he tried to process your words. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, strained. 

"You can't be saying stuff like this to me right now." He told you as his brain continued to be scrambled. 

"You're not here so I wanted to call. What else am I supposed to do? Just sit here... you know what they say about idle hands," you teased, dragging your words out with a playful lilt.  Layla clapped a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. You glanced at her, grinning, and decided to push a little further. "I even thought about calling you earlier, but I didn't want to bother you while you were with the boys. I mean...” You let out a soft, breathy sigh. "You clearly had other priorities but I just… wanted to be reminded of your voice in my ear." You moaned feigning sexual indignation. That did it. 

"Babyyyy," Trent groaned, his tone a mix of frustration and desire. "Stop playing with me." He ran his hand over his hair trying to not get too excited by your words, his joggers were beginning to tent. He was still at Noah’s house but he was about ready to get in his car right now. 

"Who says I'm playing?" you countered, biting your lip to keep from laughing. "I'm just... lonely. I mean, I'm wearing that little top you like. Or... I was." You told him a blatant lie. Layla’s eyes widened, shaking her head, looking at you fully covered up in a jumper.  You heard him curse softly under his breath, the faintest sound of a chair scraping as he moved. 

"Why are you doing this to me?" he muttered, his voice lower now, raspier.

"I’m not doing anything. You're just not here," you shot back, your tone both teasing and genuine. "And I wanted you to know that I really… really… wish you were." You taunted him.  Trent groaned again, louder this time. You could hear the faint shuffle of movement on his end.

"Where are you?" he asked suddenly, his voice tense.

"I told you, I’m in bed," you replied, leaning back and letting your voice drop dripping with faux innocence. "All by myself. Thinking about you." You confirmed the lie once over as Layla scoffed. 

"Jesus Christ," Trent muttered. You could picture him now, pacing the kitchen, probably running a hand over his hair in frustration. And you were correct. He was doing just that trying to figure out what to do right now. Layla gave you a sly grin.

"Well," you said, dragging out the word, "then I guess I'll just have to keep myself company. Maybe I’ll send you a picture of what I’m up to while you’re at Noah’s?" You suggested.

"Baby" he warned, his voice sharp. But there was a tremor in it, a crack that told you exactly how much he wanted you to follow through. He couldn’t handle this, his head was on mars.

"Oh, but I thought you liked that, when I sent you photos, didn’t you?" you mocked him. If he wanted movie night with the boys so badly, you were going to make it hell. Send him the nastiest picture you had yet while he had to sit there on his hands. It felt good to have the power shifting.  "You don’t want to see me?" You asked feigning innocence.

“Pretty girl, I am dying here…. Please. Don’t do this to me.” He begged you. He wanted a photo of you more than anything in the world. But the idea of having just to sit on it. Doing nothing with it was excruciating. What was he meant to do here? He was on the phone in the middle of the film, if he left now… what would his excuse be but… you were home alone, he wanted to be there. 

"Hmm, maybe. You always ask me to be a good girl for you… Why couldn’t you be good for me once. Just for tonight." You cooed teasingly. That’s all you wanted was tonight- wasn’t too much but now he’d pay.

"I'm always good for you," he shot back without hesitation, the heat in his voice making Layla raise her eyebrows at you in mock disbelief.

"Are you?" you teased, shifting in bed and letting your voice drop to a softer, more tempting tone. "Because if you were, you wouldn't have left me all alone tonight for the boys." Trent groaned again. He really regretted his decision. He thought he was doing this to benefit your relationship. And now he realized that he didn’t give a shit about what the boys thought, he wanted to be there with you. 

“Nah, baby fuck them. I’ll come over right now. Swear. I’m sorry, baby. I want to come be with you. ” His voice had dropped, the suggestion loaded, as if he’d already started picturing it. Layla shot you a look, one that dared you to turn the tables even further. You bit your lip, taking the plunge. 

"Well, it’s too late now. You're with them, and I'm here alone." You dragged out the last word, knowing exactly what it would do to him. Your lips curled into a satisfied smirk. 

“Don’t.” He threatened you. He pretended to hit his head against the cupboard in front of him. He was regretting every decision up until this point. He felt so stupid but he wasn’t keen on letting you play with him like this. 

"Don't what?" you asked innocently, twirling a strand of your hair between your fingers. "Don't tell you that l've been lying here, thinking about you? That l've been imaging all the ways your hands would be on me, all the ways I could’ve been good for you?" You taunted him. Layla flopped on the bed squeezing your leg shocked that you went this far. 

"Baby, you're killing me," Trent muttered, his frustration palpable. Layla shot you a grin and mouthed, ‘keep going.’ 

"I think I'll take a long, hot shower," you mused aloud, your tone thoughtful but teasing. "Let the water run over me, help me relax after such a long, lonely night." Trent cursed softly under his breath, and you could hear the faint sound of him shifting.

"I'm coming over, baby. Enough," he declared suddenly, his tone firm, decisive.

"No, it's okay," you said quickly, trying to sound casual even as your heart raced. Layla gestured wildly, as if to say ’this is what we wanted.’ She wanted you to break him down to a begging point and you’d gotten there, actually coming over though and giving him best of both worlds? Not going to happen. “Seriously, it's fine," you continued, trying to keep the upper hand. "I'll just shower, maybe do some online shopping. Pick out something... special for maybe some upcoming plans..." Trent let out a low, guttural groan that made your stomach flip.  He shook his head to gain some composure. He needed to get a grip but all the visuals you were giving we’re sending him into orbit. He took a deep breath before his next words. His controlled demeanor returning.

"Yeah? How about you get something for when I come over next, hmm?” Trent's voice dropped a little, thick with anticipation. “Be a good girl, I’ll send you my card, just something special only for me?" He murmured, his tone laced with a possessive edge that sent a thrill through you. Layla looked at you admittedly having a hard time turning down the offer. Maybe you could do both. You bit your lip, pretending to consider his suggestion. 

"Maybe," you teased, letting the word hang in the air. "But only if you're lucky."

"I'll make sure I'm lucky," he shot back, his voice thick with determination. "You just wait for me, baby. Then, I'm gonna make you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Promise." He told you. “Just f’me baby.” He pleaded.  

"Brooo, embarrassing!" Noah teased, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, his grin wide and taunting. Trent froze, his face heating as Noah burst into laughter.

"Fuck off," Trent snapped, his voice sharper than intended as he quickly turned his back to Noah, gripping his phone tighter. He was met with silence from your end, and for a second, his heart sank. He couldn't let Noah know it was you or worse his intrusion derail this moment.

"You're gonna be in my bed tonight, yeah?" Trent asked again, his voice quieter now, more serious, his heart pounding as he waited for your answer. On your end, you paused, savoring the power shift. You finally, for once had the upper hand. He was trying to get it back telling you matter of fact you’d sleep with him tonight but Layla gestured wildly, mouthing say no, keep him hooked, while you bit back a smirk.

"Hmm... I don't know," you mused, dragging the words out just enough to make him squirm. “I'm so tired." You told him. Trent was panicking. He couldn’t focus on the two simultaneous happenings. 

"Nah, nah,  nah, don't do me like that, bab– ," Trent blurted, his voice softening, but then he caught Noah's smirk out of the corner of his eye. He clenched his jaw, stopping himself after the first  syllable of ‘baby,’ trying to reel it back in. Noah raised an eyebrow, looking far too entertained by the scene.

 "Who is that? Who are we calling baby?" he pressed, stepping closer with mock curiosity. "Got you out here begging, bro." Trent shot him a glare but didn't take the phone away from his ear. 

"Nah." he just dismissed quickly, his tone defensive. “Girl I’m seeing.” He clarified waving Noah off, hoping that was sufficient to get him to leave. 

"No, seriously, who’s this? Who's got you acting like this," Noah continued, his grin growing, mocking Trent.

"Seriously, bro, fuck off," Trent repeated, trying to sound firm but feeling increasingly flustered. On your end, Layla was barely holding in her laughter, watching and listening to this unfold like a soap opera. 

"Looks like someone's been caught out down bad," she whispered, making you giggle softly.

"Stop it," you hissed at her, but your voice was playful, your smile betraying you.

"Baby," Trent said again, ignoring Noah entirely now as he refocused on you. His voice was a mix of pleading and frustration. "Don't make me wait. Please." Layla's eyes widened, interested in his response. You leaned back against your pillows, feeling victorious. 

"You seem to have company. You can text me and I'll think about it.” You teased, your tone light but noncommittal.

"Don't think too long," Trent shot back quickly, a hint of desperation slipping through his controlled exterior.

"Bro, she's got you wrapped so tight. I'm actually impressed." Noah, now sitting on a stool at the kitchen island for the show, bursting into laughter again. Trent groaned, running a hand over his face as he tried to ignore Noah. 

"Baby," he muttered into the phone before you hung up abruptly, not giving him a chance to get another word in. 

“Oh boy… You've got him wrapped around your finger, huh, even his boys are calling him on it.," Layla said, grinning, a mutual flare of victory behind her eyes. Noah smirked, watching as Trent tossed his phone onto the counter and leaned against it, visibly irritated and flustered.

"So, who is she?" Noah prodded once over. 

"Nah, mate…None of your business," Trent replied flatly, though his cheeks betrayed him, flushing with heat. 

"Oh, it's definitely my business now," Noah said, his grin widening. "I've gotta meet the girl who's got TAA tripping over himself like this. Jesus mate… Look at you.” He looked at Trent, eyes wide, almost falling into shock at Trent’s vulnerability. 

"Not happening," Trent muttered, already regretting how much he'd let slip. Meanwhile, back at your place, Layla threw herself onto you, giggling.

"Oh my God, that was perfect! Did you hear him?" She asked like a proud mum. You couldn't help but smile, your phone still warm in your hand. 

"Yeah," you said softly, the sound of Trent's voice still echoing in your ears. "I did." 

“Come on… calling her baby? begging her to get in your bed? How leng is she?” Noah asked Trent, laughing. Trent laughed with him but more out of nerves.

 “Yeah, she’s…” Trent paused momentarily really thinking about how to answer this. It was awkward. Noah knew exactly what you looked liked. They’d in fact had full conversations about Jack’s little sister… but that’s not who he was just on the phone with...and yet unfortunately, it was  “She’s my dream girl, mate.” Trent said it aloud, unable to stop the words falling out. The admission a vocal realization of how deep he was in. Noah’s laughter slowed, his teasing grin softening into something closer to curiosity. 

“Dream girl?” he echoed, eyebrows raised. “You’re proper in it, aren’t you?” Trent let out a nervous laugh, running his hands over his face as if to hide. Saying it out loud felt reckless, but he couldn’t take it back now.

“Uh yeah, man, I guess,” Trent muttered, shaking his head as if trying to shake off the weight of his feelings. “She’s… different. I’ve never felt like this about anyone.” Noah leaned back, crossing his arms, his grin lingering. 

“So, what’s the deal then? Why’re you sneaking around like this? If she’s that great, just bring her around.” Trent hesitated, glancing down at his phone. 

“It’s not that simple.” Trent told him ambiguously. Noah tilted his head, his curiosity sharpening. 

“Not that simple? What, is she married or something?” He let out a laugh, clearly joking, but Trent’s silence made him pause. “Oi, you’re serious? What’s going on here?”  He asked. Trent sighed, shaking his head. 

“She’s not married, man. It’s just… complicated. She’s not someone I can just bring around.” Noah studied him for a moment, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. 

“You’re not usually this cagey about girls, bro. What makes her so special?” Trent’s lips curved into a small, involuntary smile as he thought of you. 

“She’s… mate…” He groaned. “She's everything. But like… she knows exactly how to get under my skin, and I can’t even be mad at her for it. She’s just… s different.” He admitted. Noah’s eyebrows shot up once more. 

“Wow. Fuck. Outta nowhere. Sounds like she’s got you good. So, what’s the holdup? The boys’ll rinse you a bit, sure, but they’ll get over it.” Trent hesitated, glancing away. Noah was slightly confused considering Trent hadn’t been seeing anyone as far as he knew. Yet, suddenly the apparent love of his life existed and he was keeping mum. 

“It’s not the boys. It’s…” He trailed off, catching himself before he said too much. “It’s just… complicated,” he repeated. Noah would be lying if he said you didn’t pop into his head, Trent never was this reserved about girls except about you. He’d clam up in conversations just like this but he immediately dismissed the idea. No way. He raised an eyebrow one again, clearly unconvinced but deciding not to push further. 

“Alright, man. Keep your secrets. But if she’s really your dream girl, maybe stop overthinking it. Sounds like she’d be worth it.” He cooed. Trent nodded, grateful that Noah didn’t press further. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “She is.” As Noah walked out of the room, shaking his head with a chuckle, Trent stayed behind, his thoughts spinning. He hated how close he’d come to slipping up. The truth about you was something he wasn’t ready to share—not with Noah, not with anyone. He couldn’t. Pulling out his phone, he opened your message thread, his fingers hovering over the keyboard before typing:

'You drove me nuts calling me like that'

'I’m sorry I’m not with you tonight. Let’s change that though'

'I miss you, baby. Please'

'Come over tonight.’

'Pretty girl. WYA '

Hitting send, he sighed, wishing he could call you without all the secrecy. Wishing you were there with him now. You pouted at the messages. As confident as he was with you, as much pull as he had with you, he would go so soft. You frowned looking at Layla showing her the messages. She gave you a sympathetic smile knowing she was going to have to be the backbone here. You didn’t go to Trent’s that night, no matter how many times he asked. Each message pulled at your resolve, every word he sent tempting you to cave. But Layla wouldn’t let you. She sat cross-legged at the foot of your bed, her phone in hand, giving you an almost maternal look whenever you glanced her way.

“Tell him to enjoy movie night with the boys,” she instructed firmly, like she was holding you accountable. “And then put your phone down. He can wait. Let him miss you.” She told you. You sighed, pulling your knees to your chest as you stared at the screen. Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, trying to find the right words, ones that didn’t feel like a lie or mean. But all you wanted was to give in. To text him back, I’m on my way, and go to him. To be held. To forget all the chaos and just feel normal again.

Instead, you typed:

‘Enjoy movie night with the boys. I’ll see you soon. xx’

As soon as you hit send, you regretted it. The moment felt cold, detached—nothing like what you were feeling inside. And then came the ache, that deep, gnawing ache in your chest that had settled there the first time you realized being with Trent wasn’t going to be easy.

“Good,” Layla said, leaning back on her elbows like she’d won a small battle for you. “Now, let’s watch something. Distract yourself. Get that boy off your mind for a minute” But you couldn’t. Not really. The night stretched on endlessly, punctuated by the occasional buzz of your phone.

'I wish you were here' 'Can we stop this already?' 'Please come over'  'Baby, I’ll make it up to you' 'Please'

Each text was a lifeline, pulling you closer to giving in. You stared at them for so long the screen dimmed, and Layla had to snatch the phone from your hands. 

“You’re torturing yourself. You told him no, and that’s it.” You shot her a look, but you knew she was right. This was the reality you were living now—pushing and pulling, holding back, trying to find some balance in the chaos. It was exhausting. When you finally climbed into bed that night, the ache in your chest still hadn’t faded. You stared at the ceiling in the dark, wondering if Trent was doing the same. The next morning, you woke up feeling groggy, as though you’d hardly slept at all. The weight of the night before hadn’t lifted. You reached for your phone out of habit, not expecting anything. It buzzed just as your fingers grazed the screen, and you nearly dropped it as Trent’s name lit up.

'Wish I got to see you last night.'

'Was going to swing by this morning but didn’t want to press' 'Boarding my flight now. xx'

You sat up, your stomach sinking as realization hit: you’d completely forgotten he had an away game. And now, you weren’t going to see him for days. The message was short, but you could feel the disappointment behind it. He had wanted to see you. Needed it, maybe. And now he was leaving without that reassurance, without that connection that only you could give him. What if he found comfort somewhere else now? What if all these games pushed him into someone else? Your heart clenched as you stared at the words, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard. What could you even say? The whole relationship was starting to feel like a tangled web—secrets, games, hurt feelings. It wasn’t what you wanted. You missed the simplicity of what it had been before. The ease, the honesty, the way you could just be together without second-guessing everything. You typed a response and deleted it twice, agonizing over every word. Eventually, you sent something simple, though it felt inadequate:

'I wish I’d seen you. Safe flight. xx'

As soon as it delivered, your stomach twisted. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t capture how badly you wanted to see him, how much you missed him already. But what else could you say? The distance—both physical and emotional—was becoming unbearable, and you didn’t know how to fix it. You lay back down, holding your phone to your chest. The ache was back, worse than before. You closed your eyes, wishing things could be different. Wishing you could be on that plane with him, just to be close to him, leaving the rest of the world behind.

Leverkusen two, Liverpool nil,… It’d been two days since you dangled yourself in front of Trent like a carrot only to snatch it all away. The problem was… though it felt good in the moment, the aftermath was proving to be worse than you could’ve ever anticipated. You hated that the way you’d left things was in a state of humor, a tease, pushing him away all for a game. When you found yourself in the living room of your house with Trent sat across the room after he’d returned the game you felt sick. His posture hunched and tense, every bit of him radiating frustration and disappointment. All the boys kept making jokes, each one hitting harder than they likely intended. His clenched fists and barely-contained sighs told you just how deep their words were cutting. They didn’t see the way his face fell, the flicker of pain that crossed his eyes with each jab. They didn’t see the way he kept glancing toward you, as though willing you to step in, to pull him out of this moment. You knew he wanted you to see him—to reach him. You wanted to be that person for him, more than anything. You were holding yourself back by sheer force of will, gripping the edges of the sofa with knuckles gone white, willing yourself not to move. Your mind was racing with everything you wanted to say to him, everything you’d have said if you’d just been alone. If no one else was there, you’d already be beside him, leaning into his shoulder, whispering words of encouragement and understanding. You’d have reminded him how talented he was, how one match didn’t define him, how you believed in him more than he could ever know. And maybe you’d even have let your guard down enough to hold him in your arms, the way he’d crave but never ask for. But here you sat, frozen, with your brother on the other side of the room and Jack and Trent’s friends filling the space, each of them blissfully unaware of the silent battle raging between you two. They could never understand the weight of restraint you were feeling. They laughed off his silence as sulking, making exaggerated comments about how he’d ‘bounced back by now’ or joking that he should ‘man up,’ ‘it’s one loss.’  It wasn’t the loss though. They had no idea what was really on the line, how much he was feeling, and how much you were holding back. Every few moments, Trent’s gaze would dart to you, quick and fleeting, with a look that made your stomach turn. It was the kind of look that was desperate, searching, like he was asking if you really cared about him, if you’d be willing to break the unspoken rules to be there for him in this moment. And you wanted to—God, you wanted to reach out and offer him some sliver of comfort. A part of him felt like this was a test, an opportunity. He was beginning to question if this was all a silly game to you. Were you just getting a thrill out of teasing him, making him act like a fool, beg for you, risk things for you… all of these things making him radically weaker. He didn’t want to be weak the way you were making him especially if you didn’t care in these moments. In these moments when he craved you most.  

Finally, he exhaled, a quiet, resigned sigh that felt like a blade slicing through the room. His shoulders sagged as though he’d decided it wasn’t worth hoping anymore, that he’d been foolish to expect more. You felt the shame tighten in your throat, guilt twisting like a knot in your stomach as you watched him swallow his frustration and put on a blank expression, tuning out the laughter and teasing around him. Without thinking, you offered him a small, apologetic smile, a silent reassurance meant only for him. It felt like such a feeble gesture, yet it was all you could give. And as you watched his face fall in response, you realized just how painful that distance was for him, how much he was holding onto every small hint of care you could offer. But it wasn’t enough. Not for him, and not for you. The weight of all the things left unsaid, all the unspoken feelings piling between you, felt unbearable. And in that moment, you knew that this wasn’t just about a bad game or hurt pride. This was about you and Trent, and the boundaries you’d set that had slowly turned from necessary to suffocating. You wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to hide this with you, that you wanted to be there for him no matter who was around, that he didn’t have to pretend everything was fine. But instead, you sat there, lips pressed together, feeling the gulf between you grow wider, the silence stretching and suffocating as you both stayed exactly where you were. You were so scared of Jack noticing the tension but Trent wasn’t even thinking about Jack anymore. He was thinking how when he used to come home after away games, a loss especially… he’d find solace in you. Whether it be a conversation, a cuddle, even a tease and now it had all been yanked away for what felt like in exchange for sex. Yes, the best sex of his life but nevertheless he missed you. His Y/N. You’d bring him comfort that no amount of women he’d fuck out of frustration post match could bring.  Little did you know for years you’d comforted him more after losses than anyone else.

Trent moved purposefully, his posture stiff and unyielding as he walked away from the group. He ignored the teasing laughs, barely acknowledging his friends’ calls for drinks as he made his way to the kitchen, his strides wide and determined, putting distance between himself and everyone else—especially you. His usual confident demeanor was gone, replaced by a heaviness that seemed to weigh down his every step. You offered to help. Your feet padding after him. You followed him, trailing a few steps behind, your heart hammering as you searched for the right words, the perfect gesture to make up for the comfort you’d denied him earlier. But as you reached the kitchen, you found yourself hesitating, feeling suddenly unsure. The kitchen lights cast a faint glow over him, and you caught the slight sag in his shoulders, the way his hands gripped the edge of the countertop, knuckles white with tension. He was trying to hold it together, to keep that wall up, even as everything inside him was breaking down. And for the first time, you saw that hurt so clearly it felt like a knife to the heart. Trent wasn’t just upset about the game, or the loss, or the teasing—he was hurting because you weren’t there. He felt isolated, the pain of the distance between you two evident in his face, like every unspoken word and touch denied had finally hit him all at once. When he turned and met your gaze, it was like every bit of his usual bravado melted away. His eyes were shadowed, raw with emotions he’d held back for so long, and suddenly he looked as vulnerable as you’d ever seen him. And there it was—strong, unwavering Trent, laid bare in front of you, and it wasn’t anger or frustration you saw, but hurt. He was hurt that he couldn’t lean on you, that the boundaries you’d put up for protection had left him feeling like he had no one at all. For years, you had been there for him, in your own subtle ways, always the one who could bring him back after a loss, the one who understood the weight he carried. Now, those small gestures were gone, replaced by a new silence, a void where there had once been comfort. And as he looked at you, you could feel the distance between you two more than ever, the painful shift from confidants to something hidden, fragile, undefined. 

“Trent,” you whispered, the word barely audible, your heart breaking as you watched his gaze fall, unable to meet yours. “I’m… I’m sorry.” For a moment, he didn’t respond, only letting out a long breath, his shoulders sagging further. He finally looked at you, eyes searching, filled with something that was equal parts need and resignation. Your reception was cold when you saw him earlier though . A far cry from what used to happen. You were overdoing the nonchalance  “I don’t know how to be there for you with Jack and them around.” You whispered cautiously looking back over your shoulder. Trent shook his head annoyed by the fear in your volume and posture.

“I always take care of you. Always. And just once I’m asking you to be there for me.”  He spoke to you harshly. His words felt like a yell in comparison to your whisper, though they stayed in the confines of the room. “Please” he muttered out meekly, almost as if he was begging for you and couldn’t stop himself from being so weak for you. His voice tinged with a vulnerability that tore at you. He hated this. Every bit of him ached for you but he was embarrassed by it. Your heart ached, the weight of his words settling over you like a fog, and in that moment, you understood. He didn’t want your apology; he just wanted you. Not in secret, not hidden, but fully and openly. And as the silence hung between you, you felt the depth of his loneliness—how he was standing here, hurting, because he felt he had to keep all of this to himself. It felt like you were choosing everyone else over him. You felt the tension begin to rise. 

“Trent….” You cooed gently, stepping forward. The kitchen island separating you two, worlds apart. He winced at your tenderness before you spoke again. His reaction to your gentleness the unsaid and said words of his, started to spark. Your own emotions about your situation getting the better of you “We’re nothing… How do you want me to act?” You explained trying to make it better. And there it was… nothing. All this fuss for nothing.  Your words cut deep. He let his eyes flutter closed. He felt his blood run cold. He felt like he wanted to be sick. This was awful. How did this happen? His place of comfort, you,  suddenly turned upside down and defined by you as nothing.  Your words hung in the air, slicing through the silence with a weight you hadn’t anticipated. Trent’s expression hardened, his mouth set in a tight line, the softness you’d seen just moments ago completely gone. He looked down, shaking his head in disbelief, almost as if he were absorbing the impact of what you’d just said. You caught yourself and tried to retract. “T… I don’t mean.” You stuttered before he cut you off. 

“Nah, it's cool. Noted. And apparently I’m the one pushing this relationship behind closed doors?” He taunted you. “You just told me I’m nothing to you.” He snapped. You felt like you were going to fall through the floors. His temper flared. Trent had returned. The soft lover boy you made him was gone and he wasn’t about to let you hurt him. “Nothing?” he repeated, almost unsure of the word's definition anymore. “That’s what this is to you?” The words came out with a raw, hurt edge. You could feel yourself faltering, his reaction unraveling the certainty you’d tried to build. There was a fragile tension between you two, a line you both knew you couldn’t keep walking forever, and now it was fraying with every passing second. Your stomach twisted painfully as his eyes flashed with anger, the softness you were so used to seeing in him now buried under layers of hurt. He took a sharp breath, his hands balled into fists as he steadied himself, like he was forcing every word through gritted teeth. “Nothing, yeah?” he repeated, his voice low and harsh, a sharp contrast to the tenderness he usually reserved just for you.

“I just…” you faltered, reaching out toward him, trying to find the words to make it right, but he stepped back, a bitter scoff escaping his lips. “Fucking at parties in the toilet isn’t any sort of commitment, the games… that’s not real. And that’s what it is… to you,” you muffled, recalling every moment you felt hidden away by Trent hammering home how small this must’ve felt to him, but right now, you were learning that wasn’t the case in his mind. 

“You think I’ve been doing all this for nothing?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but the pain was clear. He seemed to be searching your face, looking for any sign that this hadn’t all been in vain, that he hadn’t been holding on for something that didn’t exist outside of stolen moments. “I’ve tried, over and over, to make you feel like this was real to me,” he murmured, his tone laced with frustration and disappointment. “But every time, it’s like… I’m not enough to make you believe it.”

“Trent, it’s not that simple,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of it all. “I just said, I don’t know how to… be there for you when Jack is around, when everyone’s watching us. It’s just…” you trailed off, hating how small and helpless you sounded, knowing it only confirmed his worst fears.

“Nah, I get it.” His voice was laced with frustration, the pain visible in every gesture, every tightly clenched muscle. “So who’s the one hiding, really?” He was being mildly petty but it was steaming from real hurt. You felt a sting as his words hit you. He was right—he was right in a way that made you feel raw and exposed. You had let your fear take over, let it draw lines around a relationship you were too scared to fully step into. The gravity of what he was saying settled over you, pressing down on you with a weight you hadn’t anticipated. He exhaled, pressing his hands into the countertop, looking down as if trying to collect himself. “I know it’s not simple,” he said, a bitter edge to his voice. “But I just… I thought you felt something. I thought we both wanted this.” You could feel yourself trembling, caught between your fear of losing him and the reality of what being with him meant. It wasn’t that you didn’t feel it—if anything, you felt it so deeply it scared you. But facing that truth meant giving up the safety of your old life, and it was that thought that made you hesitate, that kept you on the edge, unable to fully commit. He watched you hesitate. The pain rifled through his heart. He looked at you and sighed. “Baby…” He pleaded. “Do you have any idea what it’s like, seeing you every day and not being able to act like you’re mine?” Trent’s voice was softer now, almost a plea. “It’s… it’s hell. And I’m trying to be patient, but…” he stopped, his gaze locking with yours, his eyes holding a mix of hope and despair. “But I don’t know how much longer I can do this if I’m the only one who’s all in.” The weight of his words settled over you, making your chest tighten with a longing that threatened to pull you apart. You wanted to reach out, to reassure him, to tell him you did feel it, that he wasn’t alone. But the fear, the reality of what this all meant, held you back, leaving you paralyzed. It was confusing because it was so obvious there was a miscommunication but you couldn’t wrap your head around the idea that he genuinely believed he was the one all in. He wasn’t convinced you weren’t as in as he was. In that moment, standing on opposite sides of the kitchen, you could feel the distance between you both stretching further. Trent turned away slightly, letting out a shaky breath, and when he looked back at you, it was with a resignation that made your heart sink. He was tired of fighting for something that felt so uncertain, tired of giving his all only to feel like he was coming up short. He was feeling out of control.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” you whispered, desperate to explain, but Trent only shook his head, looking away as if he couldn’t bear to face you. “T… it’s unfair to say I’m not in this.” You tried to explain. “I don’t understand how I’m meant to show you… or to act differently with you don’t give me the space to do it, when you don’t want it. You don’t want me,” you muttered, you jaw tight. As you continued stating your defense, your reality started to come to light. And it was in sharp contrast to his. “You hiding me like a secret in your bed isn’t being all in.” You tried to explain and he shook his head. He was annoyed that your comment landed and while he understood it but he wouldn’t concede. “I said I’m sorry about tonight but you also could’ve come up to me. You could take what you want… I’m here Trent. I’ve been here.” You hiccuped feeling a lump in your throat form. It felt like you were drawing closer to a stalemate. It made you sick. You could feel it all closing in, what the only resolution would be. “Right now, all I feel is like I’m the one risking everything while you’re here upset at me for following your rules? You pull back the second I want to spend time alone with you, the second the boys might find out but then complain when I’m not on my knees for you, when I’m not a total mess the second you walk in. Waiting.” Your voice broke, and the crack in it cut through you deeper than any argument ever had.

“Maybe… maybe you’re right,” he finally said, the words coming out with a sadness that felt almost unbearable. “Maybe we are nothing.” He threw the word back at you. You felt tears prickling in your eyes, but you couldn’t find the words to make him understand, to make yourself understood. The silence between you grew heavy, and he let out a strained laugh, his voice tinged with bitterness. “You know, I thought you were the one person I could let my guard down with,” he said quietly, more to himself than to you. “I thought you were different. I thought… I thought you felt the same.” Trent felt sick. 

“Trent, please…” you reached out, but he stepped away, running a hand over his face, visibly trying to steady himself. His gaze fell back on you, guarded and hurt, the vulnerability replaced by a distance that made your chest ache. 

“I can’t keep doing this,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t keep feeling like this is all in my head. You’re… You’re fucking with me. You’re hurting me. I just wanted you to be there for me. Tonight, be there for me. Stop toying with me.” He snapped, he seemed to fall back into anger and it made you upset. Toying with you? Was he serious? He couldn’t possibly be serious. 

“I’m fucking with you?” You asked looking for some clarity, to get on the same page but instead everything was blank and all you felt was just anger. The same anger he was feeling. The emotion fell over you fast and hard. He wanted to be done.  If he could accept this. If he could end this… you were in fact like all the others. Disposable. “You want me to be there for you?” You quipped back. Voiced raised. “Everyone thinks I’m obsessed with you, some stupid little girl with a crush on her brother's friend, yeah? That’s what they all think.” You could hear the desperation laced in your tone, the edge of frustration threatening to spill over.  The argument erupted like a dam breaking, years of unspoken words and hidden emotions rushing to the surface all at once. You hadn’t planned for this moment to unfold like this. You hadn’t planned for it at all. But now, the words poured out before you could stop them. Trent’s head jerked back slightly as if the words physically hit him. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing, letting you continue. “And for what? To be pied time and time again? To be hidden away like some dirty little secret?” Your voice broke, and the first tear escaped, but you refused to let yourself falter. “You put me behind closed doors, Trent. Because you’re afraid. So don’t you dare be mad at me for not being able to comfort you. You arranged this.” Trent’s eyes narrowed, his face a mix of hurt and disbelief. He stood rooted in place for a moment, his hands curling into fists at his sides as though he was trying to hold himself back. But he couldn’t.

“Arrange this?” His voice rose, his tone sharp and biting. “You think this is my fault?” He stepped closer, his frame towering over you, the hurt evident in every line of his face. “You kissed me, Y/N. You. Don’t stand there and act like this whole thing—this mess—is all on me.” The memory of that moment—the kiss you’d dreamed of, the one you thought would change everything—now twisted into something ugly. His words were a slap in the face, and the tears came faster now, blurring your vision as you tried to steady your voice.

“Did you not want me to?” you asked, your tone quieter now but no less challenging. Trent opened his mouth, but no words came out. His silence was deafening, a chasm furthering between the two of you. He looked away, his chest heaving, as if he couldn’t bear to meet your eyes. “Did you not want me to?” you demanded again, louder this time, your voice cracking under the strain. He still couldn’t answer. It was hard to put into words. There was a part of him that questioned if he had wanted you to in retrospect. Yes, he wanted to. He wanted to kiss you but if it meant getting to this place. He wasn’t so sure. You began to cry harder. His silence was deafening. And that was when the floodgates truly broke. “So if you didn’t want me to kiss you,” you said, your voice trembling but louder now, “then what is all this? Why drag me along? Why make me think there was something more?” Your chest heaved with every word, the pain of saying them cutting through you like a blade. “I’m not here for a season of yours, T,” you continued, your voice rising with each word. “I’ve been here your whole life. I’ve waited for you. I’ve waited for this. So you tell me, right now, do you just want the attention, or do you want me?” The kitchen fell silent, your words hanging in the air like a loaded weapon. Trent looked at you then, really looked at you, his eyes wide and his expression unreadable. His lips parted as though he was about to say something, but nothing came out. That silence—it wasn’t just awkward. It was unbearable. It was deafening. Finally, Trent exhaled, a long, shaky breath as he looked down, his hands flexing and curling at his sides. He felt like he was going to cry. He’d never made you cry until you started this whole thing and he wanted that back. 

“You’re not being fair,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, but there was no fight left in it. “You’re not being fair to me.” He looked at you honest and terrified. He could feel it all collapsing and there was no way to hold it up. 

“Fair?” you repeated, your voice breaking under the weight of your emotions. “Fair is the last thing this has ever been.” You quipped. Trent’s face twisted into something you’d never seen before—guilt, anger, heartbreak, all mixed into one. His hands moved to his head, dragging down his face in frustration. And then, without another word, he turned and walked away. You blinked, stunned, as you watched him head for the door, his steps heavy, his shoulders slumped “Trent…” you whispered, barely audible, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t want to fight for this version of you anymore.The sound of the door shutting behind him was final, reverberating through the silence like a death knell. The weight of it all hit you at once, your legs buckling beneath you as you sank to the cold floor. Your hands shook as you wrapped them around yourself, the tears coming faster now, sobs wracking your chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Trent was supposed to be your safe space, your person. But now, the relationship you’d built together, the moments you’d shared, felt like they were slipping through your fingers, dissolving into nothing. And as you sat there on the cold kitchen floor, your heart shattered, the question lingered, echoing in the silence: Had you just lost him for good?

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 10 xx

[valkyrieromanoff]

God bless your dad's genetics… Dilf! Anakin x son’s girlfriend!reader

synopsis: when your best friend Luke asks you to pose as his girlfriend during his parents' 25th wedding anniversary cruise, you reluctantly agree. After all, you're single, he's desperate, and who can say no to an all-expenses-paid getaway? But what starts as a simple favor spirals into a tangled web of awkward introductions, suspicious relatives, and one undeniable complication: your growing, utterly inappropriate crush on Luke’s father, Anakin. Surrounded by the charming and chaotic Skywalker family, you’re forced to navigate the tricky waters of pretense, loyalty, and a passion you never saw coming.

warning: age gap (Anakin is 44 years old and the reader is in her early 20s), cheating, alternate universe, that's it for now, I'll add more warnings when the next chapters come out.

words: 1.1k

a/n: I confess that I've had this idea marinating for a while, and now seeing the latest photos of Hayden at comic-con, he's so dad coded. So, I decided to take a chance and start a story, I don't know how many chapters there will be yet, but I'm excited to see where it will take us... Slightly inspired by Fuck your boyfriend('s dad) by forcemeanakin, I'm obsessed with her writing… Anyway, that's it, I hope you like it ;)

CHAPTER ONE: CRUISE

you were meant for me to find

it's out of my hands

there's nothing left to do but

cruise and just enjoy the ride

“Wait a second, let me get this straight…” you interrupted Luke, raising your hands to halt his rapid-fire explanation. He’d been talking non-stop for nearly five minutes, and you were still struggling to piece it all together. “You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend at your parents’ 25th wedding anniversary? Why on earth do you even need a fake girlfriend?” You adjusted yourself on the bed, pulling a pillow against your chest for comfort, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Luke let out a long, dramatic sigh, raking a hand through his messy blond hair. “You know how my parents are… always in my business. And now with Leia bringing her boyfriend, I just don’t want to be the only one showing up alone.” He looked at you with those pleading puppy-dog eyes, his voice softening. “Come on, just this once. Please? Didn’t you say you wanted to go on a cruise someday? Here’s your chance.”

You arched an amused eyebrow. “So, what—you’re trying to bribe me now?”

Luke shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with a loose thread on his jacket. “Well, when you put it like that…” he muttered sheepishly. “Look, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I—I trust you, okay? You’re the only person I can count on for this.”

His desperation was hard to ignore. You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. “Fine, I’ll do it,” you said, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. “But only because of the all-inclusive package. Don’t think this means I approve of your ridiculous plan.”

A grin split across Luke’s face as he lunged forward to hug you. “Thank you! Seriously, you’re saving my life here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, pushing him back playfully. “But if this backfires, you owe me big time.”

Luke hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right, um… about that. I might have already put your name on the guest list.” 

Your eyes narrowed as you shoved his shoulder. “You what? Idiot.”

---

Now, a few days later, you found yourself standing on the pier, the midday sun beating down mercilessly. You checked your phone for the third time, scrolling through messages with a faint scowl. Still no word from Luke. If he left you waiting much longer, you were seriously going to kill him.

“Hey!” His voice cut through the buzz of the crowded dock. You turned to see him jogging toward you, a backpack slung casually over one shoulder. He looked a little too cheerful for someone who had left you baking in the sun.

“You’re late,” you called, crossing your arms as he approached. 

“Fashionably,” he quipped with a smirk, completely unbothered by your glare.

“thought you’d forgotten about me,” you teased, elbowing Luke lightly in the chest as he finally reached you.

Luke shrugged, offering a sheepish grin. “Blame my parents. They were running late because my dad accidentally packed the wrong suitcase for my mom. Total chaos—everyone was scrambling to fix it.”

You chuckled, imagining the scene. Though you hadn’t met Luke’s family yet, you’d heard plenty about them over the years. His parents were something of a legend in his stories: the perfect, if sometimes chaotic, couple who’d married young and raised twins.  

Padmé Amidala, Luke’s mother, was a force of nature. A federal deputy and professor of International Relations, she somehow juggled her demanding career with being a devoted wife and mother. Strong, brilliant, and endlessly busy, yet always managing to prioritize her family.

Anakin Skywalker, Luke’s father, was no less impressive. A retired army general, he’d left his military career after the twins were born to focus on raising them. Luke often spoke of how his dad spent hours tinkering in their garage, restoring vintage cars and building gadgets—a far cry from his days in uniform.

“Come on, let’s get moving,” Luke said, snapping you out of your thoughts. He grabbed the handle of his own suitcase and motioned toward the massive cruise ship docked ahead. 

You followed, letting him lead the way. The pier was packed with elegantly dressed guests, most of whom were likely Padmé’s colleagues—senators, representatives, and a mix of politicians from all corners. The line to board snaked back farther than you could see. 

“Do we really have to wait through all this?” you asked, eyeing the crowd and clutching the handle of your wheeled suitcase. 

Luke shot you a sly grin. “We don’t wait in lines.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he veered off toward the front of the queue, guiding you toward a set of stairs reserved for VIPs. You followed, struggling a little as your suitcase bumped against the steps. 

"Luke, get your girlfriend's suitcase," a strong, masculine voice called out from behind you, deep and commanding yet tinged with warmth. "Otherwise, she'll think I didn’t teach you how to be a gentleman."

Startled, you turned toward the source of the voice just as Luke, already at the top of the stairs, groaned in exasperation. He glanced back with a tired expression but made no move to help. 

“It’s okay, really, it’s not heavy,” you mumbled shyly, gripping the handle of your suitcase a little tighter. But as your eyes met the man addressing Luke, the words caught in your throat. 

Your lips parted slightly in disbelief. Gods… what a man. 

Standing before you was, without a doubt, the most stunning man you’d ever seen. Anakin Skywalker. His angular face was framed by sandy blond hair, slightly tousled with subtle waves that gave him a rugged charm. His piercing blue eyes—so vivid and expressive they seemed to pull you into a storm—were framed by faint lines that hinted at years of experience and a life well-lived. His presence was magnetic, his confident stance and the faint smirk on his lips radiating an almost effortless allure.  

“Come on, I insist,” Anakin said, his voice softening as he stepped closer. He reached out and gently took the suitcase from your hand before you could protest. His touch lingered just briefly, and the warmth of his hand sent a flicker of heat up your arm. “Not heavy, huh?” he teased with a wink, his tone laced with amusement.  

You managed a weak nod, your heart racing as you watched him carry your suitcase up the stairs with ease. Every movement was graceful, effortless, as though he hadn’t spent years off the battlefield but still carried himself like he could command a room—or a galaxy. 

Luke rolled his eyes at his father’s display, muttering under his breath. “Show off.”

Ignoring him, Anakin reached the top of the stairs and set your suitcase down carefully before glancing back at you with an easy smile. “Welcome aboard,” he said, his voice warm and inviting.  

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral, but your mind was racing. What the hell have you just gotten yourself into?

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

Chapter warnings: First kiss with this Yoongi (have fun with that), one sexist remark from your dummy bestie, baby mama shows up, cliffhanger

Word count: 5.3k

Posting date: November 19, 2024

Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. Icymi, we did a poll and results show y’all wanted to break this into two parts so we shall have a part 3. Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕🫶🏼

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Masterlist

Ever since that dinner when you inadvertently confessed about your age-old attraction to him and assured him that any residual feelings are buried in a metaphorical time capsule, Yoongi seems to have made it his personal mission to rizz you up on purpose.

Haneul’s been especially rambunctious all day. Mealtime is no exception. Yoongi volunteers to feed him, thinking he can rein in some of the pent-up energy. At some point, Haneul squeezes his pouch of organic muesli and carrot puree with so much enthusiasm that it explodes everywhere, sending bright orange flecks across Yoongi’s face and pristine white tee.

“GAHHH!” Yoongi yelps, staring down at the mess, while Haneul absolutely loses it, tiny belly-shaking laughter filling the room.

“Silly, silly sarang,” you coo, using the pet name you’d started calling Haneul lately. It’s adorable how he beams every time he hears it, flashing you that gummy grin like he knows he’s your favorite troublemaker. You laugh too, as you wipe a splatter of puree from Haneul’s cheek with the muslin cloth you were holding.

“Do I have something on my face, too?” Yoongi leans towards you expectantly with the barest of smirks.

“Uh… yeah.” You say, flipping the cloth to a clean side and wiping off the smudge on his cheeks and his chin, and that pesky little morsel on the side of his lip.

For some reason, you seem to need a blast of oxygen straight to your lungs. Stat.

With a lick of his lips, Yoongi nods his thanks. “Gotta change,” he mumbles, lifting the shirt away from his chest with a grimace and walks towards the hallway to his room.

And you almost regret your decision to look back, almost.

Because, oh wow, he’s taking his shirt off. Yep. Fuckin’ dammit. The shirt is off.

Christ.

His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing as he runs a hand through his hair. The infamous “7” tattoo on his shoulder is taunting you. You are unable to pull your eyes away, already knowing you’re doomed.

Then, before he mercifully disappears into his room, he glances over his shoulder and catches you staring. Shit. Your heart plummets straight to your ass. He smirks, U-turns towards you shirtless and utterly shameless.

Your nerves short-circuit as he reaches out, just barely brushing your thigh to pick up his phone from the mat. His eyes hold yours, a dark glint of mischief in them, “You good?”

“Huh?” The brain fog is crazy. You will yourself to keep your eyes above his chest, but of course you gone did it.

Why are his nipples so cute? And damn is that a happy trail?

He snickers softly, like he knows exactly what’s going through your head. “I’ll be back. Han’s eating the remote by the way.”

And with that, he saunters off, leaving you there, a blushing, flustered mess as you find Haneul gnawing on the remote control.

You pull it quickly from his grasp, muttering under your breath, “Sarang, why are you and your appa being such a menace?”

He babbles happily at you, as if he knows he’s not the only troublemaker with a gummy grin in this house that got you wrapped around their finger.

The next time you’re at the Min’s, Yoongi is clearly in a rush, checking his phone and mumbling to himself as he zips up his jacket. “Just text me if you need anything, okay?” he calls over his shoulder, already half out the door.

“Got it,” you reply, bending to set your shoes on the rack. You glance down, expecting to see your usual house slippers—but something else catches your eye.

It’s a… capybara? Big, fluffy, and incredibly cozy-looking slippers, with soft little ears and embroidered eyes, just waiting for you. They’re exactly your size. They’re yours, right? It’s in your usual spot. Beside it… another pair. Same goofy capybara face, but larger. Did Yoongi get a pair for himself, too?

You slip them on, feeling their warmth, their plushness, and a little shiver of wonder and disbelief spreads through you. Yoongi thought of this—thought of you. The butterflies in your stomach are in a frenzy now, and you can’t help but smile, giddy and a little stunned. 

The door swings open. “I forgot my—” Yoongi stops mid-sentence.

You’re standing there, wiggling your toes inside the ridiculous capybara slippers, and when you look up, you catch the slight flush creeping across his cheeks. There’s something so unmistakably soft about his expression and it makes your heart do a strange little flip.

“Please tell me they’re mine,” you jut your bottom lip out, a hopefulness you can’t quite hide.

Yoongi steps inside just enough to grab his keys from the table, shrugs, “Who else would they be for?”

And just like that, he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

You’re left standing there, the capybara slippers snug around your feet, Yoongi’s words replaying in your mind. Your heart flutters as you stare down at them, wondering if maybe, just maybe, this small, thoughtful gesture means as much to him as it does to you.

Since then, you start noticing the small ways Yoongi shows his care. Each time he heads out, he leaves little comforts behind—an extra pillow for you on the couch, a plate of fruit on the coffee table, a cup of Silver Moon tea he prepared for you.

More and more, you start to extend your day to night that Yoongi almost expects you now to stay for dinner or join him for Haneul’s nighttime rituals.

Haneul’s bedtime stories have become a team effort—one night you’re reading, the next it’s Yoongi, who’s surprisingly great with voice acting and sound effects. (You should have known!) When Haneul finally drifts off, Yoongi always waits a moment, exchanging a small, tired smile with you as if to say, We did it.

And before you know it, that age-old crush that you said was buried in a metaphorical time capsule? Yoongi just dug it right back up.

One evening, as you rock Haneul to sleep in your arms, Yoongi comes in quietly, setting down a couple of takeout boxes and two cans of Coke on the coffee table. The baby’s small breaths are warm against your shoulder, his eyelids fluttering as he settles into sleep. You gently lay him down in his crib, brushing a hand over his soft hair before joining Yoongi on the couch. 

“Hungry?” Yoongi asks, sliding a takeout box in your direction. He’s not looking directly at you, focused instead on peeling back the lid of his own food.

“Starving,” you admit, smiling as you pick up your chopsticks. “Thank you.”

The quiet clinks of chopsticks and soft laughter fill the room as you both dig in. Conversation with Yoongi has started to come easier lately, and tonight, it flows so naturally you barely notice the time passing. 

“So, what got you into teaching?” he asks, glancing over at you between bites. “You seem good at it. Really good, actually. Haneul has so many party tricks now.”

You pause, laughing a little to mask the warmth in your cheeks. “I just love kids. I enjoy their energy, even if it’s chaotic.” You glance down. “I’ve always wanted my own. Just… hasn’t quite worked out that way yet.”

He nods, not pressing you, just letting you continue.

“I was in a long-term relationship, but things ended because he wasn’t looking for that kind of future,” you say quietly. “I really wanted a family, kids, but he didn’t. He didn’t even believe in marriage. So, it ended, and I guess that’s why I left and went back home.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. Must have been so difficult for you.”

You nod, swallowing down the ache that lingers. “Yeah. I think part of me is still working through it, honestly. I hope you don’t think this is weird. But being here, with Han…” you sigh. “I don’t know, it’s helping. Even if he’s not quite mine.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his gaze shifting to his hands, fingers tracing the rim of his soda can. “It’s not weird. Look, you’ve helped us a lot, too. Having you here has made things feel… lighter. Happier.”

The words send a flutter through you, a feeling that scares you as much as it comforts you. Because this feels too domestic. A taste of that life you’ve always longed for. With Jiyong, for years. But now, it’s only Yoongi’s face you see in your mind’s eye. Yoongi and Haneul. You then realize how badly you want this, but you’re afraid of wanting it–afraid of what it might mean to get attached to someone like Yoongi.

“I appreciate that.” You reply. “How have you been adjusting to life as a single dad?” 

Yoongi glances over at you, his gaze thoughtful. “I didn’t expect that it would be this rewarding,” he says, his voice soft, but it trails off. “But… it’s lonely sometimes.” He pauses, his fingers absentmindedly toying with the edge of his sleeve. “Not just the parenting stuff, but the other parts. Like when Haneul does something for the first time—takes a step, says a new word—and I just… look around.”

He shrugs, his lips twitching into a small, self-conscious smile. “And it hits me that there’s no one there to share it with. No one to laugh with, to say like, ‘Hey, did you see that?’”

He laughs quietly, a little embarrassed. “I don’t know. Maybe that sounds selfish. But it’s the truth.”

You shake your head. “It’s not. I think we all want someone to share our life with. It’s not wrong to want that.”

He looks over at you, his gaze holding yours with a gentle intensity. “I guess… it’s easier to admit that with you here. It’s funny because in some ways, you’ve been that person for me, for us.”

The words hang between you and the silence stretches, buzzing with a feeling you can’t quite name. You’re painfully aware of every detail—the curve of his lips, the way his hand rests on his lap, the tenderness in his eyes. You know there’s something there, simmering, and you wonder if he can feel it too.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “Thanks for being here tonight. Really.”

You smile back, heart racing. “Thank you for trusting me. I know… this isn’t easy for you.”

As you sit there, side by side in your matching capybara slippers, the feeling of wanting more, of something real and lasting, settles into your chest. It’s a feeling you thought you’d put on the backburner, but here, with Yoongi, it’s igniting again.

You find yourself chilling at Namjoon’s apartment, days after that dinner, sprawled across his couch with a plate of instant jjajangmyeon balanced precariously on your lap. Some indie album is playing in the background, and you’re too caught up in your spiraling thoughts to even notice Namjoon observing you between bites.

“I’m screwed,” you say suddenly, poking at your noodles with your chopsticks.

Namjoon doesn’t even look affected. “What now?”

“It’s your fault, you big oaf.”

“K stop being cryptic,” he says, motioning for you to explain. “What did I do this time?”

You drop your chopsticks with an exasperated sigh. “Yoongi.”

“Mhm… What about hyung?”

You hesitate, pressing your lips together before blurting out, “I think… I think I like him… again.”

For a moment, Namjoon just stares at you, his expression unreadable. And then he has the audacity to laugh, nearly choking on his noodles as he leans back against the cushions.

“You’re so predictable,” he says between chuckles, shaking his head. “God I knew this was coming.”

You narrow your eyes at him, offended. “What do you mean you knew this was coming?”

“I mean, come on,” he says, gesturing at you with his chopsticks. “You’ve been spending all this time at his place, basically co-parenting Haneul with him. You’re acting like this is some big revelation when it’s been written all over your face.”

You stare at him. “Wow. Are you done?”

Namjoon smirks, tossing his empty takeout box onto the table before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Okay, okay. Let’s unpack this,” he says, mock-serious. “You like him again. Fine. Why is that a bad thing?”

“Because, dude, it’s Yoongi. What if he’s not actually feeling it, which won’t be the first time? And! I still don't know why he suddenly has a son.”

“You have to ask him that.” Namjoon sets his drink down, his expression sobering slightly. “But answer this—Are you over Jiyong?”

The mention of your ex makes your stomach twist, but you nod, sighing. “Yeah. I’m over him. I’ve come to terms with it. He wasn’t the one for me.”

“Damn right, he wasn’t,” Namjoon mutters, shaking his head. “That guy was an asshole. I never liked him, you know.”

“I know,” you say, laughing softly. “You made it pretty obvious.”

“Good,” he replies firmly. “Because you deserve better. Way better.”

You glance at him, your heart warming a little. “Thanks, Joon.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says, leaning back against the couch. “We’re not done talking about hyung.”

You groan again, flopping back against the cushions. “This is so pathetic.”

“No, it’s not,” Namjoon says, his voice softening. “It’s cute. Gross, but cute. And honestly, if hyung’s finally starting to let someone in, I’d rather it be you than some rando.”

You blink, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “You’re really still shipping us after all these years?”

“Of course,” he says, nudging your knee with his. “You’re good for each other. I’ve known this all along.”

A pause settles as you finish your meal and Namjoon, his drink.

Then, he shakes his head like he’s just realized something. “So this is why Yoongi hyung has been sneaking in some extra work out time in between rehearsals.”

“He’s been walking around his house shirtless. Well, it’s his house, so…” you shrug, pretending you dgaf when really you’ve been thwarting mini heart attacks.

Namjoon’s eyes widen. “No fuckin’ way.”

“Don’t you dare tell him,” you warn, pointing your chopsticks at him.

He smiles wide, teeth blackened by the jajangmyeon sauce. “Only if you say yes to a night out.”

You groan, already mourning the loss of a perfectly good night of doom scrolling, as you toss him a paper towel. “Fine. When?”

You arrive at the bar later than planned. It’s some newly opened speak-easy in Gangnam owned by Joon’s friend. As you push the door that looks like a bookcase from outside, a rush of cool air ruffles the skirt you’re wearing. You definitely took a bit of time selecting your outfit and doing your makeup today, and now you feel really good, great even, even though you initially dreaded going out.

As you scan the room, you spot Namjoon in a large circular booth near the back, surrounded by familiar faces. He spots you first, waving you over with that dimpled grin of his. As you approach, you notice that the atmosphere is already loose and lively, evidenced by the various bottles and half-consumed glasses already on the table. 

Jin is leaning back, looking exasperated, and Hobi is covering his mouth as he laughs, his face flushed from the drinks he’s clearly had more than a few of. And there’s a girl beside him, who you vaguely recognize as the same one from when you watched their rehearsals.

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Namjoon calls out, standing up to envelop you in a hug.

“The star has arrived,” you jest, doing a flower pose on your face. Hobi rises to give you a hug, then Jin follows suit. 

“This is Yunjin,” Hobi introduces the redhead beside him. “My lovely wife.”

Yunjin has the same megawatt smile to match Hobi’s. “Glad to meet you.”

“Good to meet you, too!” you say back as you hug.

“You clean up nice,” your best friend comments as you all settle back inside the booth. “When you’re not acting like a hermit in your condo.”

“I know,” you roll your eyes, surreptitiously scanning the vicinity. “Who else is coming?” you hope you’re not painfully obvious on who you were wishing would be there.

“Just us,” Joon side eyes you, before adding. “Yoongi-hyung just stepped away for a second.”

“Ah.” 

As if on cue, Yoongi steps into view.

And goddamn. Your brain corrupts for a moment, and you swear you hear soft K-drama OST music in the background.

He runs a hand through his hair as he surveys the room as if he has some invisible wind machine following him. He’s wearing a black blazer that fits perfectly over a simple white tank. There’s a flash of silver at his waist from his belt that hugs his light-wash jeans. A small pop of pink on his neck somehow softens the whole look, a cute touch.

He looks so effortlessly good it’s almost obnoxious. The thing is, you’re pretty sure he knows it. That smirk on his face is very telling.

“Hey, you made it,” he says quietly, sliding into the seat next to you as if he belongs there. He grabs the drink by your elbow to take a sip and you get a whiff of his scent—musky, woody, dangerous.

“Yeah,” you squeak, no clue how you will manage to act normally around him now, but a joke seemed appropriate. “Shit. Nobody said my ‘employer’ was gonna be here. Now I have to be on my best behavior.” You say to the others in a whisper.

“DON’T,” Yoongi groans, shaking his head, lower lip bitten in mock irritation.

The rest laugh at your exchange. Hobi slides a shot of whatever to you, and you take it, grateful.

“You missed a big reveal by the way,” Namjoon says. “Apparently, Jin-hyung has officially sworn off women for all eternity.”

Jin rolls his eyes. “Ha-ha. It’s called having a life outside of getting your dick wet, thank you very much. Not everyone needs to be a simp like you.”

“Who is it this time, Joonie?” You ask, taking a tiny sip from the shot glass.

“Soyeon.” Everyone says in chorus. Even Yoongi says it under his breath.

“Oh, god,” you breathe out. “You’re on again?”

Namjoon sighs, “I know, I know. She’s got me in a chokehold.”

Jin raises his drink. “To Namjoon-ah, the biggest simp we know.”

Namjoon shakes his head, laughing in defeat as everyone clinks glasses.

“…and to Seokjin being forever bitchless.” You add under your breath, exchanging giggles with Yunjin.

“Yah!” Jin shouts from his beer glass and you throw him a wink.

“Speaking of simping,” Hobi says, drawing out the word as he looks pointedly at Yoongi. 

“Hoba.” Yoongi warns. You’re curious now.

“The new songwriters Si-hyuk on-boarded from America. They saw you with Haneul. I heard them calling you a DILF.”

Hobi practically falls apart, laughing so hard he clutches his sides. Jin and Namjoon aren’t far behind, their cackling attracting stares from neighboring tables. Even Yoongi can’t fully suppress his grin, though he tries valiantly to play it off. You laugh along, but you feel your face heating up and you don’t know exactly why.

“So you already have an in,” Jin says, reaching over to give Yoongi a hearty slap on the back. “Even you could use a good distraction once in a while.”

“Hajimaaaa,” Yoongi complains, brushing off Jin’s grasp on his shoulder. “Hoba’s just making shit up.”

“I’m not lying!” Hobi raises his right hand up as if he’s swearing an oath. Then he mock-complains, “Nobody ever calls me a DILF.”

Yunjin elbows him on the stomach and Hobi splutters, as they start bickering playfully.

Then Namjoon turns his sights on you. “Hey y/n, you're a girl,” he starts and immediately, you know he is setting you up for something.

“Keen eye,” you deadpan, placing the shot glass on your lips.

“So,” Namjoon says, dimples deepening as he leans in, gestures to Yoongi, “objectively… is he?”

“Is he what?” you grit, but your eyes are screaming ‘Don’t you dare, Kim Namjoon. Don’t you fucking dare, you piece of shit.’

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, looking every bit the trouble-maker. “A DILF?”

Motherfucker.

You nearly choke on your drink, fighting the urge to strangle your best friend as his grin widens, clearly enjoying your discomfort. 

“You’re an asshole, objectively speaking. And I need a real drink if this is how tonight’s gonna go,” you down the entire shot before moving to slide out of the booth to escape before you’re forced to answer.

Yoongi moves out to give you space and decides, “I’ll go with you.” 

As you head toward the bar together, you feel the warmth of Yoongi’s hand on the small of your back. You chance a quick look back at Namjoon, who’s wearing an absolute shit-eating grin, clearly pleased with himself, like this has been his master plan all along—more than ten years in the making.

You decide to go to the bar outside. It’s quieter here and you also need the fresh air.

“Sorry about that…” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck.

“Oh please, no need to apologize for Namjoon’s dumb behavior.” You wave a hand, as if it’s really no big deal. But your insides are still churning.

“So who’s with Haneul tonight?” You ask as you perch on the bar stool.

“My eomma. She’s going to be staying in town for the next two weeks since it’s Han’s birthday.”

“Wow,” you say, excited. “What’s the plan?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Ah, something small. Just family, maybe a couple of friends. Nothing too big. He won’t even remember it.”

You laugh lightly. “Yeah, but you should be celebrating your first year as a dad, too.”

He smiles faintly at that, nodding. “Maybe. But I’m terrible at planning stuff like this. I was gonna keep it simple—a cake, some balloons, that’s it.”

“Well, if you need help, let me know,” you offer casually, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach flutters at the thought of being part of something so special.

“You sure?”

“100%,” you say, nudging him lightly with your elbow. 

“I don’t want to impose, though. You already do so much.”

“You’re not imposing,” you reply firmly. “I want to help. Besides, I’m already halfway to being Han’s favorite person.”

“Halfway?” he repeats, huffing. “You’ve already taken that spot–100%.”

You grin, feeling your cheeks warm. “What can I say? I’m irresistible to one-year-olds.”

Yoongi’s still for a moment, his gaze lingering on you. There’s something thoughtful in his expression, before mumbling under his breath, “Maybe not just to one-year-olds.”

Eh?

But before you can say anything, he already gestures to call the bartender to take your drink orders.

You’re glad you went out tonight. It’s been a while since you had spent time with a group that made you feel so welcome. Despite the jovial mood you’re in, your social battery is definitely drained. Yoongi notices and asks if you want a ride home since he also needs to go for father duties. You both say your goodbyes and head to his car in the parking lot.

The drive is quiet but not awkward, the soft music filling the space between you during the quick drive to your apartment. When he pulls up in front of your place, you hesitate for a second, debating whether to invite him in. But then you remember the absolute disaster inside—clothes flung everywhere, shoes scattered, your makeup bag abandoned on the kitchen counter in your rush to get ready. Plus, you don’t even have a couch, so…

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’d invite you in, but, uh… my place looks like a crime scene right now.”

He has a confused look on his face, so you explain, “Tried on half my closet before settling on this.”

His gaze sweeps over your outfit, but not in a way that feels invasive. If anything, he looks appreciative. “Worth it,” he says simply, and your heart does a somersault.

There’s a moment, a pause where you should say goodnight. Get out of the car. But something about the way Yoongi’s eyes are still on you makes your pulse quicken, and suddenly, it’s like the air between you feels heavier.

“Stay here,” he says softly, stepping out of the car and walking around to your side. He opens your door, his hand outstretched to help you out, and you take it, letting him guide you onto the sidewalk.

He doesn’t let go of your hand. The short walk up to your apartment feels longer than it should, yet you don’t want it to end.

When you reach your door, you turn to face him, suddenly unsure of what to say. “Well… goodnight, I guess.”

Yoongi hesitates for a moment, hand still lightly grasping yours. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay…” Your throat felt dry saying that.

“I umm found Haneul a nanny. Youngbae-hyung recommended this agency they used to find theirs and I’ve signed on someone who’s starting soon.”

You’re a little shocked at the news. This is good though because Yoongi really needs a more reliable and constant solution to their caregiving needs. Despite the heavy feeling that has settled in your chest, you try to lighten the mood with a joke that doesn’t quite land, “Why does this feel like a break-up?”

Yoongi shakes his head, lips curved into a small smirk, as he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “Not even close.” He releases a sigh. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you nod, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I kiss you goodnight?”

The question takes you by surprise, the vulnerability in his voice making your heart ache, but this time, in the best way. You nod, smiling softly. “Yeah. You can.”

He steps closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm before tilting your chin up gently. The kiss is soft, tentative, like he’s savoring every second. You are, too. It’s just… sweet. Like a first kiss should be. Perfect.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. For a moment, neither of you moves, like you can’t believe what just happened.

Yoongi’s eyes flutter shut as he confesses, “Is it bad that I want to do that again already?”

“No, ‘cause same…” Your hands reach out, grasping the lapels of his jacket, and you pull him back in.

Yoongi responds instantly, his hands sliding to your waist as he presses you gently against the wall, his warmth and weight upon you dangerously addictive. His tongue brushes yours, soft and slick, that spark of contact so electric that you feel yourself melting further into him. Your arms loop around his neck, bringing him closer, and when his lips part against yours, his teeth catch your bottom lip, sucking on it softly before letting it go. The sensation sends a shiver racing down your spine, and you can’t help the quiet moan that escapes you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, threading through the silky strands before one hand slides down to find the belt loop of his jeans. You tug on it, pulling him impossibly closer, until there’s no space left between your bodies.

Yoongi groans against your mouth as your bodies collide, your chest against his, his leg in between your thighs, fitting into each other like tetris pieces. As your nails scratch the tufts of hair by his nape, a rumble, low and rough, escapes his throat, sending another wave of heat straight to your core. His hands grip your waist tighter, grounding you even as your world shifts.

When you finally pull back, your breaths come fast and uneven. His hair is slightly mussed from your fingers, his lips flushed and slightly parted, and he looks at you with a mix of wonder. You feel kind of proud, taking in his sexy, disheveled appearance.

“I really should’ve tidied up my place,” you murmur, your fingers still loosely hooked in his belt loop.

Yoongi blinks, dazed for a moment, before letting out a soft chuckle. “It’s fine. There will be other times.” His fingers brush against your shoulder as he gently hooks the strap of your top that had slipped down, carefully sliding it back into place.

“Other times, huh?” you tease.

He licks his kiss-bitten lip, smirks and says, “Good night.”

“Good night,” you reply as you watch him retreat down the hall.

“I’ll text you,” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing into the elevator, leaving you standing at your doorway, your lips still tingling and your heart on your sleeve.

You close the door, leaning back against it with a sigh.

That same night, you resolve to go to IKEA to finally buy a damn couch and a bedframe. You know, just in case. For those other times.

Yoongi: haneul says he misses you You: Oh, rly? He talks full sentences now? Yoongi: yes? You: I miss him, too. Yoongi: good. see u tomorrow? You: I’m so there, no question Yoongi: good night

Yoongi’s apartment is alive with energy, the living room transformed into a whimsical—but slightly chaotic—mix of cats and capybaras. It’s a theme that feels both playful and oddly fitting, a nod to Haneul’s love for capybaras (which you take full credit for) and Yoongi being a literal cat daddy. Yours, hopefully, but the thing is… it’s been awkward. At least for you.

You spent the morning hanging streamers, tying balloons, and carefully setting up the decorations while Yoongi grumbled about the sheer number of things to assemble.

At some point, Yoongi takes your hand and introduces you to his mom. Just your name—no label, no context, no indication of what you are to him beyond someone who is here, present, and involved. It had been a brief, polite exchange, but you couldn’t help the twinge of awkwardness that followed, even if Yoongi’s hand stayed clasped with yours and he may have dropped a chaste kiss on top of your head before he had to go say hi to other guests. 

Your relationship—or lack thereof—still feels undefined. You haven’t had the talk with Yoongi since that kiss after the night out. You’re in this off, lukewarm state, caught somewhere between the heat of semi-flirty late-night texts and the cold hard truth that he’s been too busy to really sit down and talk. With their comeback just weeks away, his rehearsals have been relentless, and you’ve told yourself not to take it personally. You know how this goes.

But still. Seeing him now, watching him laugh softly at something Namjoon said while adjusting Haneul’s tiny party hat, a knot twists in your stomach. You just don’t know how to properly operate in this space that’s in flux.

You shake the thoughts away, willing yourself to shelf the conversation for later. It’s Haneul’s day, you remind yourself. Whatever questions you have about you and Yoongi can wait.

“Noona, these cupcakes are so good!” Jungkook calls out, holding up one with a cat face on it.

“Thank you, Kook! Can’t take credit for them though. I just got them from a pastry shop near my place.”

“Still, you’ve got good taste,” he says, licking the frosting that makes up the cat’s tail.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings. Yoongi, closest to the door, moves to answer it. You don’t think much of it until you hear Yoongi’s voice croak. “What are you doing here?”

Curiosity piqued, you glance toward the doorway, and that’s when you see her.

Tall, gorgeous, and impossible to miss. Lee Sung Kyung steps inside, her polished, effortless elegance making her stand out. She barely spares a glance at anyone else, her focus entirely on Yoongi.

Your stomach drops. You have a bad feeling about this.

Namjoon is at your side in an instant, his voice low. “Hey… I think we need to talk.”

“What?” you ask, forcing a smile as you pick up a napkin, pretending to tidy the already-organized table. But your eyes are glued to the scene by the entrance, at Yoongi’s clenched jaw, and Sung Kyung’s outstretched arm.

You feel a little miffed that Namjoon takes you by the elbow, voice insistent as he says, “NOW.”

"Joon," You ask, mustering all your courage, even though you are terrified of the answer. "Who is she?"

"She's Lee Sung Kyung."

Your ears are ringing and you grit your teeth as you respond, "I fucking know her name." You repeat the question, slower, a little angrier. "Who. is. she."

Namjoon hesitates, his jaw tightening before he answers. “She’s Haneul’s mom.”

Part Three >

A/N: dun dun DUN. 🙉 I need y'all in the comments! <3 How are you feeling??? Feedback is super appreciated and helps keep my motivation high ✨

I am so excited to share part 3.

Hope you all are sattt 🪑

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful human! 💜

& If you want to read more of my work, please check out my Masterlist

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[facioleeknow]

The art of pleasure: second dates ° Ch 1

Best friend privileges ° Bang Chan

After 8 very successful lessons it is time to go on those second dates the boys were so eager to go on.

Spin off of my series "The art of pleasure"

WC: 1028 Genre: Smut 18+ ONLY, Frat boy AU, College AU

TW: smut, unprotected sex, cream pie, slight manhandling, slight breeding kink, daddy kink, let me know if i missed anything

Chris pressed sweet feather-like kisses all over your collarbones;his breath tickled your skin as he giggled at your tiny whimpers. You should’ve known it would end like this when Chan had texted you ‘wanna come over tonight eheh?’. When you had stepped foot into his room a scene straight out of a romantic movie greeted you, candles and petals were scattered everywhere around the small bedroom. 

“Damn, Christopher you really went all out, uh?” even if your tone was mocking, your heart skipped a beat at the effort he put in.Romantic gestures weren’t normal for Chan, he was the most infamous fuck boy in your whole university after all.

“Anything for you, baby,” he giggled like a child. After that you had settled down to watch a movie, but you knew your friend had other plans in mind. Ever since you had come into his room, he had a fiery look into his eyes; something you had only heard people talk about on campus. Experiencing it though, was another story, you felt intimidated and desired, you wanted to kneel before him and do everything he asked you to, you wanted him to use you until you couldn't think straight. 

Not even five minutes later Chris's lips were on yours and the movie was long forgotten.

His kisses were short and light, and not nearly passionate enough. You felt like you were on fire, both your skin, your pussy, and your brain was short circuiting. You understood why those girls were all begging to sleep with him for just another night.

With your pussy throbbing, your panties soaked through and your head empty, you couldn't help what came out of your mouth.

“Daddy, please, I want more,” you whined. The words hung heavy in the air.

“Channie, I'm sorry, I didn't mean t-”

Chris pressed your lips together, your apology lost. His hand made his way down your body until he was cupping your heat.

“It's okay baby, I will take care of you. Are my hands enough for you?” His lips still worked on your neck but this time they were sucking a little more harshly, his teeth grazed your skin every now and then.

“No no no no,” you cried out, you wanted to feel him, really feel him. His hands weren't going to cut it.

“Shh, it's okay baby, how about this, huh?” At that, Chan pressed his clothed bulge between your legs and gently rocked his hips up and down, up and down. You could feel the heat radiating off him, pearls of sweat appeared on your forehead. His light silver chain brushed against your hot skin at every roll of his hips, making you gasp at the temperature difference.

“Please, daddy fuck me, I want you, I need you.” A tear fell from the corner of your eye, down the side of your face. Chan cooed and wiped the moisture away.

“I can't resist you when you make that sweet face.” He laid back on his hunches and hurriedly took off your pants and underwear just to do the same for him. When you opened your legs wide for him like a good girl, he sucked in a breath.

“God baby, pussy so pretty just like I remembered.” Chan positioned himself between your legs, his warm hands gripped your thighs and pushed them upwards so they were almost touching your torso.

“Keep them like this, mh baby?”

“Yes, daddy.” Your pussy dripped at how roughly his hands gripped your skin and downright fluttered when, after releasing your legs he pinned your wrist to the bed, above your head. He leaned down after that and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips as a thank you for letting him handle you as he wished.

“How do you want it, baby?” His lips tickled yours and you felt like you were going to explode; you wanted him inside and you wanted his lips on yours. Immediately.

“Pound me, Channie, please.” A small pinch to your wrists made you mewl.

“That's not how you call me baby.”

“I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please,” you bubbled incoherently. Streams of words kept escaping your mouth until Chan swiftly pushed all of his length into you, with no warning. A strangled scream resounded in the room, mixed with a low moan from Chan. 

Your best friend wasted no time in fulfilling your wish and started roughly thrusting into you. Your body moved around like a ragdoll, your legs stayed in place and your ankles wrapped around Chan's torso to keep him in place. You never wanted him to stop, the drag of his cock against your walls and of his pelvis on your clit made you see stars. The headboard of his bed smashed against the wall at every thrust, the frame creaked at the movement. You almost pitied the poor guy that roomed next to him, almost. 

Chan started panting and groaning down your neck, the sounds getting more and more strangled with each thrust of his hips. 

“I'm sorry, baby, but you're too warm and soft, I'm gonna cum, I can't hold it,” his voice was shaky and raspy, it was making your pussy tighten and drip down his shaft.

“I don't want you to, Daddy, I want you to cum inside me.” 

“God baby, you're gonna drive me crazy if you say those things,” Chan's hips picked up an even faster and more brutal pace, you swear you could feel him in your stomach. Every sharp hit made your poor neglected clit throb, you wanted him to touch it, you wanted to cum so hard around him he wouldn't be able to pull out, but most importantly you want to feel his hot cum inside you and see it drip out of you.

Like he had heard your thoughts, a second after you felt a hot liquid fill your womb.

Chan stopped his movements and collapsed on top of you.

“Give me 10 minutes baby, then I'm all yours again,” he mumbled against your neck, “you better be ready, I'll make your little pussy cum so many times you'll beg me to stop.”

@kflixnet

[zoofzoofxx]

—The art of eyecontact —

Pairings ; Axel Kovacevic x fem!reader

Summary ; After spending a night together, Axel made a mistake, regretting his actions soon after. His friend Zara, seeing the tension between them, steps in to help by offering advice and encouragement. She urges Y/n to reconsider the situation, emphasizing that Axel’s feelings are genuine despite his hesitation, and suggests that Y/n give him another chance to explain himself.

Warnings ; none (I think)

Mentions ; @oscarisdaddy69 @babylambdietcoke @karmaswitch

Pt. 2

୨୧・・・・♡・・・・୨୧

I woke up feeling completely drained, as though I had been transformed into a zombie overnight. A quick glance at the clock revealed it was already 8 a.m., and the harsh reality hit me- I had only managed to get one hour of sleep. My mind, still foggy with exhaustion, was suddenly flooded with memories of the night before, replaying every detail vividly.

Turning to the side of the bed, I noticed Axel was nowhere to be seen. However, the sound of running water from the bathroom confirmed he was in the shower. Deciding not to waste time, I slipped back into the clothes I had worn the previous night. Once Axel emerged, I planned to let him know that I would head back to my own room to get ready.

'Hi.' I turned around to see Axel standing there in simple, casual clothes. I offered him a small smile and a quick wave, keeping it light. He didn't say much as he walked closer to me, his presence commanding yet calm. Instead of a kiss, he pulled me into a hug.

The embrace was warm and steady, and I couldn't help but notice the distinct, luxurious scent of his cologne—it was rich and captivating, lingering in the air between us. His warmth was comforting, a stark contrast to the exhaustion I was still feeling.

'I should get going. The next event is in four hours,' I said, my eyes drifting toward the bed where, just an hour ago, we had been sleeping together. On the chair nearby were the folded clothes he had lent me to sleep in. They were neatly arranged, a small but thoughtful gesture that didn't go unnoticed.

When I looked back at Axel, I noticed a soft pink hue coloring his cheeks, a hint of shyness that made the moment feel unexpectedly tender.

'Thank you for everything,' I added, my voice gentle as I tried to ease the subtle awkwardness lingering between us. I wanted to make the atmosphere feel more comfortable, even as I prepared to leave.

He gave a small nod, his demeanor calm and composed. 'No problem at all. I enjoyed your company,' he replied, his voice relaxed and warm. He seemed far more at ease than he had been the day before, when tension had defined his every movement. This softer side of him made me smile, even if just inwardly.

—

'Oh my god, no way!' Sam exclaimed, pacing back and forth across the room while I sat silently on the edge of my bed, unsure of how to respond.

'So, are you two like... a thing now?' she asked, stopping abruptly to look at me, her hands firmly planted on her hips and one eyebrow arched high.

I bit the inside of my cheek, the question hanging heavily in the air. I didn't have an answer—not for her, not even for myself. Instead, I shrugged, a silent gesture that conveyed my uncertainty. My lips pressed into a straight line as my thoughts drifted to the tournament happening in just a few hours, offering a convenient distraction from her probing stare.

'Let's just get ready,' I said, standing up and reaching for my karate uniform, eager to shift the conversation away from Sam's relentless curiosity.

'We'll have this talk later, young lady!' she yelled after me, her voice full of mock authority. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her pointing at me, as if to emphasize her determination.

I couldn't help but laugh at her over-the-top seriousness as I walked to the bathroom. Once inside, I locked the door and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash over me, clearing my head before the day ahead.

—

As Robby and I walked into the building where the Sekai Taikai event was taking place, my eyes immediately landed on Tory standing in the lobby. She looked composed but intense, her focus evident. Robby sighed beside me, already taking a step in her direction, but I gently stopped him, deciding to approach her myself.

'Y/n,' she greeted, her tone serious, her expression unreadable. The captain's headband was already tied firmly around her head, a symbol of her leadership and resolve.

'Tory... how are you feeling?' I asked, letting out a small sigh, my voice softer than usual. She didn't respond right away, standing in silence as if weighing her words. The tension in the air was palpable, and I found myself stepping forward without hesitation, wrapping her in a hug.

At first, she didn't move, her arms stiff at her sides, clearly hesitant. But after a few seconds, I felt her hands rest on my back. She sighed deeply, the kind of sigh that seemed to carry everything she couldn't say. Her grip tightened, and for a brief moment, she hugged me back fiercely before pulling away.

'Everyone on your team is mad at me,' Tory said, her voice quiet as she shifted her gaze from the ground back to me. There was a flicker of guilt in her eyes, a vulnerability she rarely let show.

'They're not,' I replied, giving her shoulder a reassuring pat. 'They understand how you feel and why you left.' My words came out gently, hoping to ease her mind. I was about to say more when a group of Tory's teammates, including Kwon, walked up to her. Their eyes darted toward me, filled with disdain and unspoken accusations.

Sensing the rising tension, I offered Tory a quick goodbye and stepped away, heading toward the locker rooms where I assumed my team would be waiting. On the way, I nearly bumped into Zara. Seeing her brought back the memory of yesterday, when she'd helped me with the water. Her kindness lingered in my mind, making the chance encounter feel a little less coincidental.

'Hi Zara, I wanted to thank you so much for the water and—' I started, but she cut me off before I could finish.

'It was Axel's idea,' she said matter-of-factly. 'But he was too shy to bring it to you himself, so he asked me to do it for him. Which I did.' Her tone was short, almost dismissive, leaving me momentarily speechless.

'Still, thank you,' I managed, offering a small smile while my thoughts drifted elsewhere. I couldn't help but wonder where Axel was now and why he hadn't just come to me himself.

'Do you know where he might be?' I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Zara turned slightly and gestured toward the direction of her team's locker room. 'He's in our locker room,' she said with a small, knowing smile before walking off without another word.

I stood there for a moment, processing her answer, before deciding what to do next. Her casual demeanor left me feeling more curious than ever about Axel and why he seemed so hesitant to approach me directly.

I sighed as I made my way to their locker room, hesitating briefly before giving the door a soft knock. It opened to reveal their sensei, who looked at me with a mix of confusion and curiosity.

'May I help you?' he asked, his tone formal as he opened the door wider. Over his shoulder, I saw Axel deep in conversation with one of his teammates. The moment they noticed me, their chatter stopped, and all eyes turned in my direction.

'May I speak with Axel?' I asked, my voice tinged with stress. Memories of what had happened to him resurfaced, and a wave of discomfort washed over me.

Axel stood up almost immediately, but before he could step out, the sensei placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

'One minute,' the sensei instructed, his tone firm. Axel nodded and quickly walked toward me once he was released. His gaze met mine briefly before darting around, scanning the area as if checking for prying eyes. Without a word, he grabbed my wrist gently but firmly and led me down the hall, pulling me into an empty locker room.

'Axel, I—' I began, but he interrupted me, his tone sharp and distant.

'Yesterday was a mistake. We shouldn't be hanging around with each other. You're my opponent, and there's nothing going on between us,' he said coldly, his posture stiff, the same tense demeanor he had shown the day before.

For a moment, I stood there, speechless. I didn't know what to feel—whether I should be hurt, relieved, or indifferent. Deep down, I had seen it coming. Kissing someone you barely know, someone you'd only met yesterday, was bound to lead to complications. It was a reality I couldn't ignore.

A soft sigh escaped me as I nodded, silently acknowledging his words. I kept my gaze fixed on the walls of the empty locker room, avoiding his piercing eyes. 'I understand,' I said quietly, my voice steady, though my thoughts felt scattered.

I opened my mouth to say something, to call him back, but no words came out. Axel had already turned around and walked away, his steps deliberate and unyielding. I stood there, frozen in place, unable to move or stop him.

A heavy sigh escaped me as I sank onto a nearby bench, my thoughts swirling. The weight of his words lingered, leaving an uncomfortable ache in their wake. I stared at the floor, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar feeling that had settled in my chest.

Had I attached too quickly? Maybe he had, too—at least for a moment. It all felt like a whirlwind, a connection that had sparked so suddenly and burned out just as fast. I pressed my palms together, trying to steady myself and figure out how to let go of something that hadn't even begun.

I sat still for a moment, trying to collect myself. I reminded myself that crying or stressing over a boy who thought it was okay to toy with someone's feelings wasn't worth it. Just as I started to steel my resolve, a chuckle broke the silence.

Looking up, I saw Kwon leaning against the doorway, watching me with an amused expression. I rolled my eyes and stood, ready to walk past him, but he stepped in front of me, blocking my way.

'Heartbroken?' he asked, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. His attempt at puppy dog eyes made my annoyance spike even higher.

I pushed against him, but he didn't even flinch, instead bursting into laughter.

'That's cute,' he said, finally calming down and giving my shoulder a playful pat. I stood silently, my irritation already at its peak.

'I heard everything that guy said,' he added casually, his tone shifting slightly. His words made me bite the inside of my cheek, discomfort creeping in. I didn't like the idea of anyone eavesdropping on such a moment, especially not someone like Kwon.

I took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly in an attempt to calm myself.

'Move, Kwon,' I said firmly, brushing past him and walking out of the locker room. I could still feel his eyes fixed on my back, but I ignored the weight of his stare and continued toward our team's locker room.

Inside, I found Sam, Devon, Hawk, and Robby sitting together. They were deep in conversation, their energy noticeably lighter than mine.

'Did you hear the news?' Devon asked excitedly, his eyes practically lighting up.

I tilted my head to the side, confused, as I walked to the nearest locker and began putting my things away.

'No?' I replied, my curiosity piqued.

Devon's enthusiasm was clear, and Sam and Robby seemed just as thrilled. Hawk, on the other hand, looked far less amused, sitting silently with a faint scowl. His expression was enough to make me wonder what exactly this "news" could be.

'So, Miguel is back in Los Angeles, right? Kenny is taking his place,' Devon said cheerfully, practically bouncing in her seat.

'Oh, that's awesome news!' I replied, matching her excitement. Despite my happiness for Miguel, a flicker of worry for his mother crossed my mind. 'When will he arrive?' I added, glancing at Sam, who seemed just as eager to hear more.

As Devon started talking again, I reached for my phone, pulling it out to quickly text Miguel. Hey, is everything alright with your mom? I stared at the screen for a second before pressing send, hoping to hear good news soon.

Almost immediately after sending the message, my phone buzzed with a response. Everything is alright, thanks for asking, and good luck, Miguel's reply read. I let out a sigh of relief, the tension in my chest easing slightly. At least one worry had been lifted, and I was glad to know he and his family were doing okay.

I sat down and leaned back, letting my eyes drift shut for a moment, hoping to clear my mind or maybe even steal a few minutes of rest. But the weight of what had happened with Axel lingered, refusing to let me relax. The memory of his cold words and the way he walked away without looking back gnawed at me, twisting into an uneasy knot inside me.

'I'm going to the training room,' I murmured quietly, standing up and grabbing my water bottle. My teammates were still deep in conversation, so I slipped out unnoticed, grateful for a moment alone.

The training room was empty when I arrived, and the sight of the silent, open space was a relief. The quietness felt like a balm to my frayed nerves, and I welcomed the solitude. Setting my water bottle down in the corner, I began moving through a series of taka drills. Each strike and kick became a release, a way to channel the emotions swirling inside me.

The repetition of the movements steadied me, grounding me in their familiar rhythm. For the first time since the conversation with Axel, I felt some of the weight begin to lift. The stress and confusion didn't completely disappear, but with every precise move, I could feel my mind slowly clearing, piece by piece.

—

After the event, our team ended up ranking second. The Iron Dragons claimed first place, while Tiger Strike secured third. This outcome meant that Cobra Kai, unfortunately, had to leave Barcelona. The news shocked me, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for Tory. She had worked so hard to get her team to this level, and it felt unfair for it to end this way.

Later, as I walked into the hotel lobby, I saw Tory sitting with her luggage, waiting with an air of quiet resignation. It was clear she was preparing to leave. Just then, an announcement came over the hotel's intercom, instructing all participants to gather in the lobby for an important update.

Curiosity buzzed through the crowd as everyone assembled. The room quieted as Gunther Braun, the head of the tournament, stepped forward to deliver the news. His expression was serious, commanding everyone's full attention.

'We have received credible information that members of the Tiger Strike team used performance-enhancing drugs during the tournament,' he announced, his voice grave. A collective gasp spread through the room, followed by murmurs of shock and disbelief.

Gunther continued, 'As a result, Tiger Strike has been disqualified, and their rankings nullified. This adjustment means Cobra Kai will retain their place in the tournament.'

The announcement hit like a bolt of lightning. Cobra Kai, instead of being eliminated, could now remain in the competition.

On the surface, I felt genuine happiness for Tory. She had given her all to this competition, and she deserved to see it through. But deep down, I couldn't ignore the anxiety creeping in. Cobra Kai was back in the running, and I knew all too well how formidable they could be as opponents. Their return wasn't just a stroke of luck for them—it was a reminder that the path ahead was about to get even more challenging.

I glanced over at Tory, and to my surprise, she smiled at me. Her teammates were cheering loudly, celebrating their unexpected chance to stay in the competition. Despite the chaos around her, Tory seemed calm, her expression soft with relief.

Turning my head, I caught Demetri rolling his eyes, clearly unimpressed by the situation. Hawk, on the other hand, looked furious, his jaw clenched tightly and his arms crossed as he glared toward the Cobra Kai group. Our senseis stood nearby, their expressions a mix of stress and unease. It was clear they weren't thrilled with the announcement either; this development added more pressure to an already intense situation.

The atmosphere felt stifling, the noise and tension overwhelming. Needing a break, I decided to step outside for some fresh air. Without saying a word, I slipped out of the building and started walking.

The cool air was a welcome relief as I wandered toward a nearby grocery store. The quiet of the streets contrasted sharply with the buzzing energy I had just left behind. Once inside the store, I browsed the aisles absentmindedly, grabbing something small to eat. It wasn't much, but the act of doing something mundane helped calm my mind, even if only for a moment.

—

Sitting on a random bench in the park, I tore off a piece of my croissant, savoring the flaky pastry as I let the quiet surroundings ease some of my stress. The fresh air and serene atmosphere helped clear my mind, if only a little. Tomorrow was the semi-finals, and I knew I needed to be completely focused and calm to give my best performance.

As I took another bite, my phone buzzed, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen and saw a notification—Kwon from Cobra Kai has followed you. I rolled my eyes, unimpressed. Of course, he'd find a way to insert himself into my day.

Before I could put my phone away, another notification caught my attention: a message request. It was from Zara.

Curious, I hesitated for a moment before accepting the request. Almost immediately, her message popped up. We need to meet up as soon as possible.

Her words were short and cryptic, making me frown. What could she possibly want to discuss, and why the urgency? Whatever it was, I had a feeling it wasn't something I could ignore.

Sure, when do you have time? I quickly typed and hit send. Not even a moment later, Zara replied: I have time now or later at the club.

I frowned. The thought of going to a loud, crowded club didn't appeal to me—I needed rest, especially with the semi-finals tomorrow. Instead, I texted back, suggesting we meet at Parc de la Ciutadella. The response came almost immediately: she liked my message, confirming she'd meet me there.

I leaned back on the bench, finishing off the rest of my croissant. The peace didn't last long, though, as I suddenly felt a pat on my shoulder. Startled, I turned around only to see Kwon standing there, a smug grin plastered across his face.

I let out a deep sigh, rolling my eyes at his intrusion, hoping he'd take the hint that I wasn't in the mood for his antics. Instead, he just laughed and casually plopped down next to me.

'Aw, did Axel leave my poor Y/n all alone?' he teased, his tone dripping with mock sympathy.

I shot him a cold, unimpressed glare. 'Just leave,' I said, my voice sharp.

Kwon held his hands up in mock defense, clearly enjoying my irritation. To my annoyance, he stayed planted in place, looking far too amused.

As I reached for the last piece of my croissant, he snatched it out of my hand with a mischievous grin and stood up.

'Thanks for the snack,' he said, walking off without a care in the world.

I clenched my fists, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from yelling something back at him. The only consolation was that he was finally gone.

'I see you're juggling two boys at once.'

Startled, I looked up from my phone to see Zara standing there, her expression a mix of teasing and seriousness.

'What do you mean by two boys at once?' I asked, genuinely confused.

She sighed, crossing her arms. 'It's obvious, even from a mile away, that boy from Cobra Kai likes you.' She gestured vaguely, then pulled out her phone, snapping a picture of the fountain in front of us as if this were just a casual chat.

I furrowed my brows, unsure where she was going with this.

'You know... Axel told me about you,' she began. 'That first day we got here, when you bumped into him, he mentioned you. He said you caught his eye.' She glanced at me to gauge my reaction but didn't pause long enough for me to respond.

'I didn't believe him at first,' she continued. 'I didn't really want him to fall for someone, especially not an opponent. I've known him since high school, and I can tell you—he didn't exactly have a social life back then. He never really experienced liking someone, let alone pursuing them.'

She paused, looking more thoughtful now. 'But then today, he told me about what happened yesterday. And... well, I saw his lock screen. It's a picture of you.'

I blinked in surprise, not sure what to say.

'That's when I thought, okay, maybe he really does like you,' Zara admitted. 'But just after the announcement earlier, he told me he said something harsh to you—about not wanting to know you. He regrets it, by the way. And now he's asked me to talk to you about it.'

I listened carefully, trying to process everything. Zara's voice softened. 'Look, I know this is probably a lot, but Axel isn't a bad guy. He's just... inexperienced. And a little scared, I think.'

For a moment, we sat in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't exactly easy, either. I could feel her waiting for me to say something, but I didn't know where to start.

Finally, Zara broke the silence. 'You have three choices here. I know two of them,' she said, leaning back slightly.

'The first,' she continued, counting on her fingers, 'is that you talk to him, work things out, and become this epic, soulmate, love-of-your-life couple with a fairytale future and all that.' She waved her hand dramatically, clearly poking fun but also being sincere.

'The second option is that you just decide you don't want anything to do with him. You let it go, cut the cord, and move on.'

I tilted my head slightly, processing her words. 'What about the third option?' I asked.

She sighed, shrugging as if it were obvious. 'That's the one you have to figure out for yourself,' she said simply.

I looked down at the ground, the weight of her words settling over me. I didn't have an answer yet, but I knew I had to decide soon.

'And don't get Axel wrong, Y/n,' Zara said, her tone soft but firm. 'He just... doesn't really know how everything works. He's figuring it out. And honestly, I didn't expect you two to work out when he first mentioned you. You're such different people.'

She paused, tilting her head thoughtfully. 'When he told me you caught his eye, I decided to pay more attention to how you act. Don't get me wrong, I'm not some creepy stalker or anything,' she said with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

'But you remind me of a golden retriever,' she said with a teasing grin. 'And while Axel's not quite a black cat, he's more like a doberman.' Her laughter was awkward but genuine, as if she was trying to make sense of her own analogy.

I raised an eyebrow, unable to suppress a small smile. 'So you're comparing us to dogs now?' I asked, mildly amused by her unexpected metaphor.

'Basically, yeah,' she said with a sheepish shrug. 'But what I mean is, you two are so different. We've always known Axel to keep to himself—he's never been the kind of person to share his feelings. At least, not until the past few days when he started asking me for advice. You should've seen him when he asked me to bring you those water bottles—he was blushing so hard it was like he turned into a different person.'

Zara smiled warmly. 'I just want you to know that I'm genuinely happy for you both. I really hope you rethink everything I've said because I think there's something special here.'

She stood up, brushing her hands off and glancing at the fountain. I looked up at her, surprised when she leaned down and hugged me gently.

'It's going to be okay, Y/n,' she said softly. 'Don't stress too much about it.'

Before walking off, she turned and blew a quick kiss in my direction, her usual playful attitude peeking through. I waved at her, unable to find the right words to respond.

Once she was gone, I sighed and sank back onto the bench behind me. My mind was swirling with everything she'd said. I sat there for a while, staring at the fountain, trying to figure out what I should do next. The decision wasn't going to be easy.