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starkeynation · 1 day ago

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I love you, I’m sorry

A letter from reader to Rafe

Content: Angst, like PURE sad, the lamp looks weird, based on the song I love you, I’m sorry by Gracie Abrams (may or may not be accurate)

A/N: about that cliffhanger and happy ending, I changed my mind… also ignore any writing mistakes if there’s any and this was kinda rushed so I hope it still turns out good

Masterlist

dividers from @anitalenia

Rafe,

It is Saturday night. I should be out doing something, partying or whatever to enjoy myself, yet here i am, pen in hand, finding myself writing to you again. I know this letter will never reach you- it’ll end up crumpled at the bottom of my drawer or burned to ashes. Still, I can’t seem to stop myself.

It has been exactly two august ago since everything fell apart. I remember the way I laid it all out, raw, I wanted to be real, hoping that honesty would mend us. We weren’t perfect. Hell, we were far from it. We fought like fire and gasoline, burning everything we touched. Jealousy leads us to mistrust each other but even then, I didn’t think it would end the way it did. I never thought that fight would be the last..the final, devastating blow before you ghosted me and blocked me everywhere.

I swear it wasn’t my intention to break up with you, I thought by exposing the cracks, we could patch them together. Instead, the truth just ended up pushing you away. When you drove off in your Benz and left me standing at my gate, it felt like everything had stopped. The time, the world, my heart…everything froze. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to scream, I wanted to stop you, beg you to stay, to tell you that we could still save us but you didn’t look back, and i was too late.

Now, i watch you from a distance as you become successful, helping your dad doing business, running Cameron’s development like you were born to do it. I heard your name whispered in admiration at the club where I work, how you charm people the way you trained for. And you know what? I’m so so proud of you Rafe. I always knew you had it in you. I’ll be rooting for you always, even from the shadows.

Maybe two summers from now we’ll be talking again at some point, exchange smiles, our lives untangled and we’re cool again. I can picture you’ll be in your family’s jet, travelling, and me, on my boat moving on with our own lives. By then, i hope..im actually ready to move on. I know you’ve already moved on- I mean, why wouldn’t you? Still, there’s part of me wish that you wouldn’t yet, and maybe, just maybe, you would take me back.

But that’s just selfish isn’t it? I was selfish when we were together too. I made everything about me, i was inconsiderate, I turn something small into raging battles. I didn’t listen, didn’t see you for who you were. I’m ashamed of the person I was, of the mistakes I made. After everything i did, I’m surprised you haven’t send someone to kill me yet.

Lately I find myself sitting on the porch, watching sunsets like we used to, with a glass of something strong in my hand. I laugh at myself, at the crash I made, because what else can I do? It’s a twisted kind of coping—laughing at my own heartbreak. It doesn’t feel real and it’s really hard to let go but i guess that’s just the way life goes.

I know i was a dick, Rafe. I had too many flaws to count but as sick as it sounds, I loved you first. You’ll always be my first love. You were the best and the worst thing that ever happened to me, a storm that left me shattered but alive. Your love had impact me deeply, it is carved in my soul. No matter where we are, i want you to know that I’ll carry the past and the weight of my mistakes with me. Trust me, it will always, haunt me.

I regret every second for not treating you well, for not being the person you needed. Lastly, i want you to know that I still, truly, deeply, love you, I’m sorry.

*Ding* you heard the bell rings. You rush downstairs to answer the door.

“Pizza delivery”, says the delivery boy standing in front of you. You almost forgot you ordered one, an hour ago. You take your prepaid alfredo chicken pizza and thank him. It was Rafe’s favourite pizza, you’re not sure if it’s still his favourite though. After shutting the door, you walk to your kitchen.

Just two seconds later, *ding* the bell rings again. Did the delivery boy forget anything? You thought.

You open the door, “yes-“ you pause. You couldn’t believe it, standing right in front of you,

“Topper?”

“Topper what are you doing here?” you ask, your voice laced with confusion.

He then steps aside and reveals a man behind him, lying on the steps of your porch- a man whose silhouette you’d recognize anywhere. “Rafe,” you whisper.

“Shit I’m sorry to bother you but this dumbass got into an accident for driving while he’s high,” Topper blurts out, panickly.

Your brow furrowing and your confusion deepens. You walk closer to Rafe and spot the blood dripping from his head, “Accident? What? Then why do you bring him here instead of the hospital?” You ask, your voice sharp, slicing through the chaos of the moment.

“He won’t let me. He insisted I bring him here to see you,” Topper explains.

“Y/n,” Rafe speaks up, his voice low and strained.

Your heart skips a beat. It’s like the universe has stopped spinning again. This is the first time you hear him calling your name after two whole years.

“Hey Rafe, you’re bleeding,” you say, your voice mix with feelings.

“I’m fine,” he says, giving a soft, disarming smile while trying to sit up.

You instruct Topper to go find some cloth to stop the bleeding. As he dissapears, you sit on your knees facing to Rafe, “Rafe, what happened? Why are you here?” you ask, still have no clue of what’s going on here.

“I wanted to see you,” he replies, putting on that damn smile again, the one that’s always managed to unravel you. “I miss you, y/n.”

Your face goes pale, your eyes widens, the words hang in the hair, heavy and unexpected. “Rafe, you’re drunk,” you accuse, trying to make sense of what’s happening right now.

“No, I’m not, i swear I’m very conscious right now,” he insists, his voice firm. You’re still not sure if he’s telling the truth or not. “I really miss you, y/n,” he continues, his voice low but still clear for you to hear it.

Your heart aches, torn between disbelief and the undeniable pull of his words. “How hard did you hit your head? God, you’re still bleeding. We need to see a doctor,” you say, trying to stand up, but he grabs your hand, pulling you back down.

“Stop it, I’m fine i swear…this is nothing,” he says waving off the concern. Just then, Topper returns with a towel in his hand. He hands the towel to you and says, “dude, are you sure you’re okay? When i saw your car there were smokes everywhere. Looks like you hit that tree pretty hard,” his voice fill with concern.

“I’m fine Top, just go. I need to talk to y/n,” Rafe says with a dismissive wave. Topper hesitates, he looks at you for confirmation as if you’re the one in charge here. You nod at him, signalling an approval, “s’okay Top i can handle this.”

“Okay, just call me if anything happens,” he says. “Thank you,” you mutter softly to Topper as he’s leaving towards his car.

With Topper gone, you shift your focus back to Rafe. You take the towel and start dabbing on the blood on his forehead, “we still need to get this stitched up,” you say. Rafe then grabs your wrist, his grip firm but not forceful, “look at me,” he demands.

You look at him straight in the eyes, drowning in his blue eyes. It’s overwhelming- staring at the man that you love but no longer yours.

“I do mean what i said, i miss you y/n and i wanted to see you,” he says, his tone steady and sure.

“But why now?” You ask, your voice breaking under the weight of the question.

“Sar..Sarah told me tonight that you’ve been writing letters about me. She found them stashed under your bed,” he says, hesitantly.

Your stomach drops and you shake your head in disbelief, “God…i knew it there was something wrong. She was acting so weird when she left this morning,” you mutter.

“So it’s true? You’ve been writing about me?”

Your face is turning red, you’re struggling to find the words. “I- yes…I’ve been writing letters. Pretending like I’m gonna send it to you but i never do,” you stutter.

“Why didn’t you just send them?” He presses, his voice low, almost pleading.

“You know why Rafe…you’ve moved on. You blocked me few months after we broke up. You’re thriving now with your job, you got your whole life together, and I- I was the reason why we broke up. I can’t just crawl my way back into your life like nothing happened,” you shatter, your voice breaking as you’re struggling to control your tears.

Rafe shakes his head. He brushes his thumb over your knuckles and kisses it. “You’re wrong y/n, you’re absolutely wrong. I’ve been doing nothing over the past two years except than trying to forget about you. That’s why I’ve been doing all these jobs, thinking it could distract me, but no,” he shakes his head again. “Nothing could make me stop thinking about you.”

His confession leaves you breathless, your tears streaming down your face as he continues. “About the blocking and disappearing, I’m really sorry, I was a coward. The truth is, that day i came to your house to apologize. Then, as I stood outside, i saw you were laughing with jj through your window. I knew you guys were not together cause after jj left, I may or may not have confronted him…” he then mouthed sorry. “But then, I remember the way you looked so happy when you’re with him. At that time, I knew I had to let you go cause you deserve someone better and you deserve to be happy so that’s why I blocked you..as if that makes any difference.”

You idiot,” you scoff. “I never wanted anyone else, only you Rafe, only you. You’re the only one who could truly make me happy.”

His eyes glisten, his smile soft and hesitant. “Please forgive me y/n, I swear I’m a better person now and I love- I love you, so much. I still do.”

You reach up, caress his cheek and pull him in for a kiss. “I love you too Rafe,” you whisper. He cups your face and returns the kiss. The kiss is passionate, slow and tender. His lip is so soft and only god knows how much you miss this. The world fades around you, leaving only the two of you, two broken pieces finding their way back to each other.

You pull away from his face and let out a giggle. “Why are you laughing?” He asks, can’t help but let out a soft giggle too.

“Before you came I was actually writing another letter for you,” you admit, a shy smile appears on your face.

“Oh really? Tell me about it baby,” he smirks. Your smile widens at the sound of the nickname that rolls out from his mouth. “Mm I miss that. You, calling me baby. Anyways, it’s in my room, wanna come in?” You ask.

He shakes his head, pulling you closer as he leans back against the stairs railing. “Hmm in a bit sweetheart, you can tell me here while we stargaze. I missed your porch- and mostly you, of course,” he replies with a faint smile.

So you do. You talk to him about the letter while your head rest on his shoulder and your fingers intertwined. “Lastly I wrote, I love you, I’m sorry,” you say, explaining the last content of the letter. But then, you realise he has gone quiet. His stillness unsettling. You glance up to him, “Rafe?” He’s not responding. You check his pulse but there is none. Panic sets in as you shake him, calling his name.

“Rafe”

“Rafe, wake up”

“Wake up!”

“Y/n”

“Y/n, wake up”

You gasp, your heart is pounding like a drum. You’re sweating all over your body as reality crashes down. It was a nightmare.

“Hey..baby you okay?” You turn your head to your right and realise it’s Rafe. He’s okay, he’s alive and he’s sitting on the bed next to you. Relief floods through you like a tidal wave.

“Is it the nightmare again?” He asks. You nod, signalling him that he’s right.

“It’s okay baby I got you. Here, come back to sleep,” he says, gently pulling you into his arms. You smile and cuddle him, clinging to the illusion of safety his embrace provides. You close your eyes again trying to fall back to sleep till your alarm suddenly rings.

You wake up with a tear running down your cheek. You hit the snooze button and realise that was a dream and this time, it’s the true reality. You look to the other side of your bed, it’s empty. It always has been for quite a while now. The truth is, that night after Rafe collapsed, you called for an ambulance. On the way to the hospital, they try everything to make his heart beat again, but nothing works. It was too late. He had lost too many blood before that you weren’t aware of and that same night, Rafe had died in your arms.

It’s been 3 years since the tragic. You keep having the same dream almost every night. Part of you is grateful that you and Rafe had ended in good terms but another part of you knows that the truth is you’ll never get the chance to redeem yourself and be a better partner. There’s nothing remaining other than the memories that will haunt you forever.

Rafe, if you’re hearing this, I love you, I’m sorry.

Like and reblog if you want to kys after reading this😇☺️

#drew starkey #obx #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #outer banks #outer banks rafe #rafe imagine #rafe angst #angst #angst with a sad ending #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe fic #Spotify

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fireya-x · 2 days ago

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skin on skin

This one is for @the-californicationist's writing challenge! ❤️

AO3 Link (full tag list) || masterlist

John Price x Reader

A surprise waits for John when he returns home earlier than you expected…

[1.4k words]

cw: smut, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, creampie

It just felt too fucking good, thinking about your husband’s cock, stretching you, nudging against your walls in all the right places – it had been too long; he had been gone for a week, seven excruciatingly long days without his touch – and your hand rubbing and pinching your swollen clit barely did anything to clench the need you had for him.

The explicit whispers spilling from your earbuds only fueled the fire, painting a scenario of what you so desperately craved.

The sight before him was something else. Almost divine.

You were lost in a haze of self-pleasure, sweating, your face distorted, lost in concentration as the blanket moved frantically where your hand worked against your cunt. It took maybe seconds before his pants felt too tight, his dick responding to the frantic breaths and whimpers that left your lips.

You hadn’t noticed you were being watched, at least not for a while.

His gaze burned into you, dark and hungry, and as if suddenly very aware of a presence at the door, your eyes shot open. The sudden movement ripped the earbuds out of your ears, and your heart hammered against your chest as your eyes met his.

A wave of heat flooded your cheeks, but before any flicker of embarrassment could form, you saw the raw lust in his eyes.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he murmured, dark and velvety, gently cupping his hardening length through the cargo pants he was wearing. The one thing you craved so severely, hidden only behind a thin layer of fabric.

He slowly stalked towards you, and with one swift motion, the blanket was gone, exposing your naked body and your hand, now frozen between your folds. A predatory smile spread on his lips as his eyes devoured every inch of you, lingering on the glistening wetness between your thighs. He couldn’t resist, and one large calloused hand closed around your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple, while the other worked at his belt buckle with practised ease.

“What’s gotten you so worked up, hm?”

“Been thinking about you,” you confessed, breathing heavily, your eyes not leaving his.

His smile widened. He captured the wrist that had been attending to your needs and brought it to his lips. He kissed your knuckles, then took your fingers into his mouth, sucking gently, swirling his tongue around each digit as if savouring the world’s most delicious meal.

Your whole body shivered, and the emptiness between your legs was a painful void, reminding you of what he could be giving you. “Fuck, John, I need you,” you whimpered, the words torn from your throat.

“I can see that.” He released your hand and placed it back between your thighs.

“Please.”

“You were doing just fine on your own.”

“Please.”

He tilted his head as if thinking about it. “No.” With both hands placed on your knees, he pulled your legs apart even wider. He walked around and stood where he got the best view. “Go on. Keep going.”

You were too lost in him now that he was finally there; you didn’t even remember the words to protest. Like a puppet on a string, controlled by his presence alone, your finger parted your folds for him to see, and with one finger, you began drawing little circles on your clit.

“Yes, like that. Just let me watch.”

His voice was the kindling you had needed before; without it, you were unable to get lost in the sensation. No story or audio could do what he did, pulling and pushing the strings that drove your body to pure euphoria, and he didn’t even have to touch you.

He stood before you, a towering figure consumed by lust. He began to stroke himself, the slow, deliberate rhythm mimicking your movements. Your eyes darted between the intensity of his gaze and the mesmerising movement of his hand on himself. His thumb brushed over the tip, drawing a groan from deep within his chest. “Yes, just like that,” he groaned, his eyes fixed on your hand working between your legs. “Fuck, you’re driving me insane.”

You increased the rhythm; your fingers moved faster, mirroring the frantic pace of his hand on his cock, your gaze holding his. “I was imagining your fingers here,” you confessed, your voice breathless, “imagining your mouth, your tongue…”

A guttural groan ripped from his throat. “Tell me,” he begged, “tell me what you were thinking about before...”

“You were…mmm,” you sucked in a breath as the pleasure built. “You had me bent over – fucking me so hard and deep I saw stars –”

“Fuck,” he hissed, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

He suddenly moved, his body crushing yours, skin on skin, pressing you into the mattress. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, a brand against your sensitised flesh. His face was buried in your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You hadn’t even noticed his shirt was gone; your senses were overwhelmed by him. The hard planes of his chest, slick with sweat, seared into you, his muscles flexing and shifting against your body. Your breasts were crushed against him, and your nipples tightened against the rasp of his chest hair.

You could feel everything - the strength of his arms on your sides, the wiry hair of his forearms tickling your skin, the frantic drumbeat of his heart echoing your own.

He ground his hips against you, once, twice; as if to test whether he could still move while keeping your body flush against his. “Come on, you can do it. Keep going. Faster.”

Your body was writhing, shaking; you could have sworn your clit must have been screaming at the abuse – the peak was right there, so painstakingly close –

“You can do it. Hm? You don’t need my cock.”

You felt his hips move against you; he was fucking his hand beneath him, pressing you both into the mattress. With each thrust, the tip of his hot length moved against the skin of your thigh like a burning brand, creating friction that had him panting into your ear. Your overstimulated nerves were crying for release, but you couldn’t reach it.

“I do!” You almost screamed, frustrated.

“No, you don’t.”

The heat between your legs was unbearable, your entire being focused on the pleasure building within you. He leaned even closer, pressing a kiss against your temple. “You were so desperate, you would have fucked yourself without me here. So come on, do it.”

“Pleasepleaseplease…” you begged, your voice barely coherent.

“Yes, that’s it, dirty little thing. Mmm.”

You focused on nothing else but the moans in your ear, the touch of his cock against your thigh, his hips stuttering against yours, and the finger you had managed to somehow push into your aching hole.

“Come for me, love.” His lips brushed against your ear, and his teeth nipped at your lobe. A ragged moan ripped from his throat as he thrust hard, his body pressing against yours. The friction was unbearable, exquisite, pushing you over the precipice. “Be a good girl and come –”

Your world shattered. A searing wave of pleasure ripped through you, your body arching involuntarily, your stomach pressing hard against his. He groaned, a primal sound torn from his chest, as he felt the ripple of your orgasm against him. The involuntary clench of your muscles, the frantic thrum of your pulse against his skin, the moans caught in your lungs as your chest crashed against him.

He wasted no time sheathing himself inside you; the feeling of him filling you, stretching you, was almost too much to bear. He rode out your climax, the involuntary clenching of your walls around him a sweet torment that sent him spiralling over the edge. He spilled deep inside you, so hard he thought he might faint, a shuddering sigh escaping his lips as he finally came home.

“Hi,” you whispered after coming down from your high and as your hand threaded through his sweat-dampened hair. He pressed a kiss to your belly, then to your breasts, before finally meeting your gaze.

“Hey.”

“You’re home earlier than I thought.” You smiled, a soft, content smile that reached your eyes.

He shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Got myself a nice surprise.”

“Next time,” you teased, your fingers tightening in his hair, “just fuck me when I’m already begging for it?”

He chuckled, the sound a low rumble in his chest. He leaned down, brushing a stray strand of hair from your forehead. “Where’s the fun in that?”

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madridfangirl · 2 days ago

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Cricket with the Bellinghams

(Jude & Jobe Bellingham blurb)

'Should we ask her to play as well?’

Jobe asked Jude while nodding in Ananya’s direction. Jude finished setting up the wickets, then turned around to look at his girlfriend who was currently pacing around the living room while on a serious work call. On a Sunday afternoon.

‘She might go all can’t you see I’m dying out here and what makes you think I have time to spare for playing?’

Jobe nodded in support of his brother.

‘Yeah she shooed me away 10 mins ago for breathing too loudly around her.’

‘Exactly. On the other hand, she might go all feminist if we don’t ask her and be like so you assumed I can’t / won’t play just coz I’m a girl?’

Jobe nodded again.

‘Yup, can see that too. What do we do then?’

‘You ask her. She’s sweeter to you.’

‘Oh bollocks. You scared of your girlfriend bro?’

‘Talking about me?’

Both brothers jumped to find her standing right behind them. How did they not hear her come in to the yard at all?

Jude was a little tongue-tied wondering how much she had heard so Jobe decided to take the reins.

‘Just wanted to ask if you’d like to play cricket with us. If your work is done I mean.’

‘Oh it’s not done. It’s never going to be done till I burn that place down. Might as well play a bit.’

Jude scanned her closely - it didn’t look like she had heard much at all. He smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

‘Wanna bat first?’

‘Sure. Gonna beat your sorry ass with it.’

Jude’s arm dropped from around her, as did his smile, while Jobe giggled behind the stumps. He could already tell this was going to go places.

‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard me.’

‘You know Jobe and I used to play cricket in school right?’

‘And I’ve grown up watching it. What’s your point?’

While Jude was always fiercely competitive, he knew she was a demonic warrior when she wanted to be. This clearly seemed like that day. He still ranked himself far higher in skill, so he knew it would end the way he wanted it to.

‘Game on then.’

‘Yup.’

‘Not gonna go easy on you dove.’

‘Didn’t ask you to.’

Jobe looked between the two of them, wondering how a light fun-filled afternoon had completely turned on its head. What he didn’t know was that the couple had been arguing over small small things all weekend. The kind of fights where you won’t even know half way in what it really was about or where it started from. So what was happening right now didn’t just originate out of nowhere.

Jude counted the steps of his lineup and got in position. Though he had said no mercy, he still decided to bowl slow, just short of out and out underarm. Even with that he was sure he’d beat her. But at least it would look like a contest then.

He bowled the first delivery. She had all the time in the world to step out of her crease, catch the ball mid -air and hit it into the outfield.

It took Jude two seconds to process what he just saw, after which he chased the ball. By then she had taken two runs. Jobe hooted from behind the stumps, patting her on the back.

All mercy went out of the window then. Jude took a proper run and swung his arm fully for the next delivery. The pace of the ball and short length of this make-shift pitch made the ball go over her head for a bouncer.

She gaped and looked at him in horror.

‘That could have hit me.’

‘Please, that would have gone over Jobe as well.’

‘Tryna show off? Or intimidate me?’

‘Just taking the game seriously.’

He shrugged nonchalantly, which annoyed her even more.

‘Good to know there are a few things you still take seriously.’

‘Wait what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Just go back and bowl.’

‘Don’t mind if I do.’

Jobe wondered if he should leave them alone and let them sort out whatever the hell was going on here. But both would have given him dirty looks if he even mentioned that. So he stayed shut.

The next ball whipped past her shoulder. Jude just looked her up and down, before walking back for his run-up. The unabashed cockiness pissing her off. He had done that consistently last few days - just setting her off with this air about him.

Next ball came. Straight on her legs. She swung the bat with all her might but couldn’t connect it properly and the ball grazed her front leg.

‘OUT. That’s an LBW.’

‘Nope. That was a no ball.’

‘No it wasn’t. I was way behind my line.’

‘Rubbish. I could see from here it was a no ball.’

‘Jobe?’

Jobe looked between the piercing eyes of both.

‘Yeah I’m not touching that with a barge pole.’

‘Coward.’

They said together, then looked at each other to acknowledge their telepathic connection, corners of their lips threatening to twitch with a smile. But the game was still on and neither was ready to give in.

However, Jobe decided to call it quits and said his goodbye after making some lame excuse. He would rather vegetate in bed than be the go between for this sparring hot headed pair.

‘One final ball. If I get you out I win. If you score even 1 run you win. Else it’s a draw. Deal?’

‘Deal.’

Jude weighed his options. Anything above her torso would be risky, she wasn’t good with ducking or swaying in time. But blocking she was quite adept at, from what he had seen just now, so a clean bowled or LBW targeting the stumps would be the way to go.

He stood on his mark. Before starting his run-up, he gave her a final look, almost giving her the window to back out. But she was a woman on a mission today. To humble his sorry ass. No matter what it took.

He bowled the final delivery. It was on target. Right on her front leg. She tried to block well, just like he had predicted. But it was a straight LBW. Clear as day.

However, celebrating was the last thing on Jude’s mind because in her rapid attempt to block, the ball deflected off the edge and hit her on her index finger.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t make any sound. But the bat dropped from her hand immediately and she turned around, holding her finger tightly.

Jude ran to her and was in front of her in a few seconds.

‘Show me.’

It wasn’t a request. He didn’t leave any room for her to be a sore loser & act out. Instead, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her other hand away to take a good look at the finger.

Then, he moved it a little bit and on one particular angle she cried out in pain.

‘Sorry, had to check for a fracture. But it’s just a sprain. Wait here.’

Again, it wasn’t a request. Jude came back in record time with a first aid kit and a pack of ice. He applied a quick ointment to soothe the nerves, then covered her finger with an ice pack, keeping it there for 2 mins sharp.

‘Try moving it now.’

She did. And just like that the pain was gone.

She looked up at his concerned face with a half-smile.

‘All good.’

Jude stood there motionless for two seconds. She wondered if he had even heard her.

But then he grabbed her arms and pulled her in for a crushing hug, kissing her head and face all over.

‘I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry baby.’

‘It’s fine it was just a sprain and it’s not your fault.’

‘Ofcourse it’s my fault. I hurt you.’

‘Jude, it was an accident.’

‘You got hurt because of me.’

‘Jude, it’s fin…’

He grabbed her face, tilted it up and kissed her like his life depended on it. Her hands came up to his biceps for support.

‘Are you mad at me? And I’m not talking about just now.’

‘No. I mean, I don’t know.’

‘I don’t like us snapping at each other like this. It sucks.’

‘I know baby. It’s just…I don’t know….maybe it’s work…it’s just been super crazy and…..’

‘And sometimes I can be a lot to deal with yeah?’

He looked at her so earnestly that she couldn’t keep herself from giving him a genuine smile.

‘Sometimes. But I know I can be difficult too and it’s just……’

‘Shhhhh it’s ok, it’s fine.’

He pulled her close again, peppering kisses over the top of her head.

‘I know just the thing to let out some frustration.’

‘If you’re talking about sex you can stop talking. I’m still irritated.’

‘Actually that’s an even better idea. But what I had in mind was more like a punching bag. Have one in the gym.'

'That....is a surprisingly brilliant idea.'

He shrugged cockily, and she rolled her eyes at him.

'Wanna give it a go, then? Can show you some punches.'

'Yes pls. Maybe we can make it a thing. I sure might.'

'So long as you don't imagine my face while punching the bag it's cool.'

'We gotta do what we gotta do.'

With that, she turned around and walked back into the house. While Jude stood there a bit, staring after her. She was full of surprises, never a dull moment with her. And Jude loved it all.

...............................................................

Was missing my babies so literally wrote this in 30 mins. Hope you like it :)

#jude bellingham #real madrid #bellingham #jude #jb5 #jb #jude fanfic #bellingham x reader #star crossed lovers #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham blurb #desi girl #jude fic #jobe bellingham

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 23 hours ago

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The Emperor’s Gaze Part 2

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Maid! reader

Warnings: Fluff, smut, Caracella being an ass

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy! I unintentionally made this a series and I love it-

Word Count: 3.8k

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MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The days following your time in the garden blurred into a strange mix of normalcy and heightened awareness. While you carried out your usual tasks, your mind wandered back to the emperor’s words, his touch, and the way he had looked at you—as though you were the only person in the world who mattered.

The garden had become your sanctuary. He summoned you there often, under the guise of needing someone to help with tasks like arranging flowers or cleaning the statues. Yet, you both knew it was an excuse.

He didn’t just speak to you as an emperor to a servant. He asked about your life—your family, your dreams, your fears. Slowly, your guarded responses began to crack, and you found yourself sharing pieces of yourself that no one else knew.

In turn, he shared fragments of his own life. He spoke of the weight of the crown, the constant fear of betrayal, and the loneliness that came with power. For all his authority, Geta was just a man, burdened by expectations and longing for something real.

But not everyone was blind to your growing connection.

One evening, as you returned to the servants’ quarters after another day spent in his presence, you were cornered by one of the senior maids. She was older, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of your flushed cheeks and the faint smile you hadn’t realized you wore.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, girl,” she hissed, her voice low but cutting.

You blinked, startled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, don’t play innocent with me,” she snapped. “The emperor may have taken a liking to you, but do you think that makes you safe? There are people in this palace who would kill to gain his favor—or to destroy it.”

Her words sent a chill down your spine. You tried to brush past her, but she grabbed your arm, her grip surprisingly strong.

“Whatever he’s promised you, remember this: you’re replaceable. Don’t get too comfortable.”

You yanked your arm free, her words echoing in your mind as you hurried away. That night, sleep eluded you, the weight of her warning pressing heavily on your chest.

The next day, as you worked quietly in the garden, Geta noticed your unease immediately.

“You’re quiet today,” he observed, watching you as you arranged a vase of flowers.

“I’m always quiet,” you replied softly, not meeting his gaze.

“Not like this,” he said, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, debating whether to tell him. But the concern in his eyes, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you—it made it impossible to lie.

“Someone warned me,” you admitted finally, your fingers trembling as they adjusted the flowers. “They said I’m… replaceable. That being near you puts me in danger.”

His expression darkened, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes. “Who said this to you?”

You shook your head quickly. “It doesn’t matter. They’re right, aren’t they? I don’t belong here, my lord. I don’t belong with you.”

His hand shot out, gently but firmly grabbing yours and stilling your movements. “Y/N, look at me.”

Reluctantly, you lifted your gaze to meet his. His jaw was set, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity.

“No one decides where you belong but you—and me,” he said firmly. “Do you think I’d let anyone harm you?”

“It’s not just about harm,” you said, your voice trembling. “I don’t want to be used to hurt you, either. I don’t want to be a weakness for you.”

His grip tightened on your hand, though his touch remained gentle. “You’re not a weakness. You’re a reminder of the man I want to be. And if anyone thinks they can use you against me, they’ll learn how wrong they are.”

You swallowed hard, his words both comforting and terrifying. How could he be so certain? How could he promise to protect you in a palace full of schemers and spies?

Before you could respond, the distant sound of voices reached your ears. Geta’s head snapped up, his expression hardening.

“Come,” he said, pulling you toward a hidden alcove tucked behind a wall of ivy.

You barely had time to protest before a group of noblemen entered the garden, their voices loud and full of laughter. Geta’s grip on your hand remained firm as he pressed you into the shadows, his body shielding yours from view.

“Your Majesty,” one of the men called, scanning the garden. “Are you here?”

Geta sighed quietly, his breath brushing against your temple. “Stay here,” he murmured, his voice low. “Don’t move until I come back.”

You nodded, your heart racing as he stepped out of the alcove, his demeanor shifting instantly to that of the confident, commanding emperor.

“Gentlemen,” he greeted, his tone light but firm. “What brings you here?”

As the noblemen launched into a discussion about some trivial matter, you watched from the shadows, your chest tightening. This was the reality of being close to him—the constant need to hide, to tread carefully around those who might twist your connection into something dangerous.

And yet, as he glanced back at the alcove, his eyes briefly meeting yours, you felt a flicker of hope.

Whatever challenges lay ahead, one thing was clear: you weren’t facing them alone.

——

The next week passed in a tense haze. You tried to stay out of sight, avoiding the prying eyes and whispers that seemed to follow you wherever you went. Despite Geta’s assurances, the warning from the senior maid still lingered in your mind.

But Geta had other plans.

It was a week after the incident in the garden when a grand feast was announced. The palace erupted with activity, servants scurrying to prepare the banquet hall, polish the silverware, and arrange the finest delicacies from across the empire. You were swept up in the preparations, your every moment occupied with tasks, though you couldn’t shake the sense of unease that hung in the air.

The evening of the feast arrived, the palace glowing with the light of a thousand torches. Nobles from across the empire filled the grand hall, their laughter and conversation blending into a cacophony of sound. You stood at the edge of the room, hidden among the other servants, your gaze flickering nervously to the head of the table where Geta sat, his expression calm and composed.

The feast began as expected, with music, dancing, and an endless parade of food and wine. You kept your head down, trying to ignore the way your heart raced every time his gaze drifted in your direction.

And then, as the night wore on and the hall began to quiet, Geta rose from his seat.

The room fell silent instantly, all eyes turning to him. He surveyed the crowd with the air of a man who commanded absolute authority, his expression unreadable.

“My friends,” he began, his voice carrying effortlessly over the hall. “Tonight, we celebrate the strength and unity of our great empire. But I must confess, I have another reason for calling you here.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, curiosity lighting the faces of the assembled nobles. You felt your stomach twist, a sense of foreboding washing over you.

“For too long, this empire has lacked an empress,” Geta continued, his gaze sweeping the room. “A partner who will stand beside me, guide me, and share in the burdens of rule.”

The murmurs grew louder, excitement and speculation buzzing through the crowd. You felt frozen in place, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure everyone could hear it.

“And so, I have made my decision,” Geta said, his voice steady and resolute. “I have chosen my empress.”

The hall fell silent once more, every eye fixed on him. He paused for a moment, letting the tension build before his gaze turned directly to you.

“Y/N.”

The sound of your name seemed to echo in the vast chamber, drawing every head in your direction. You felt the weight of their stares, a mixture of shock, disbelief, and anger radiating from the crowd.

You took a step back, your mind racing. *This can’t be happening.*

“Come forward,” Geta commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your feet moved of their own accord, carrying you toward him even as your mind screamed at you to stop. The sea of nobles parted as you passed, their whispered words slicing through the air like knives.

When you reached the dais, Geta extended his hand to you, his eyes softening as they met yours. “Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. But then you saw the sincerity in his eyes, the promise of protection and devotion, and you found yourself nodding.

“Yes,” you whispered.

He smiled, a genuine warmth breaking through his composed exterior. Taking your hand, he turned back to the crowd.

“This woman,” he declared, his voice strong and unwavering, “has shown me courage, kindness, and strength unlike any I have ever known. She will be your empress, and you will honor her as you honor me.”

The room erupted into chaos. Some nobles cheered, their voices filled with forced enthusiasm. Others whispered furiously among themselves, their faces dark with outrage. But Geta paid them no mind, his focus entirely on you.

“You’ve just made a lot of enemies,” you murmured, your voice shaking.

“So have they,” he replied, his grip on your hand tightening. “But let them come. I’ll face them all if it means keeping you by my side.”

In that moment, as he stood beside you, his presence a shield against the storm brewing around you, you realized there was no turning back. You were no longer just a maid—you were the chosen empress, a target for intrigue and danger.

But with Geta at your side, you felt a spark of hope. Together, perhaps you could navigate the treacherous waters of the court and forge a future where love and loyalty triumphed over fear.

——

The days following the feast were a whirlwind. The announcement of your elevation to empress had sent shockwaves through the empire. Courtiers whispered behind your back, and the palace was abuzz with speculation. Despite the overwhelming attention, Geta stood firm beside you, his presence both a comfort and a shield.

But not everyone celebrated the news.

Caracalla had been away from the palace on a campaign when the feast took place. His sudden return only days later sent a ripple of unease through the court. Known for his ruthless nature and volatile temper, Caracalla was a man who inspired both fear and respect.

The first time you saw him, you understood why.

He entered the throne room with an air of authority, his dark eyes scanning the room like a predator sizing up its prey. Taller and more imposing than Geta, his presence seemed to suck the air from the room.

Geta stood at your side, his expression carefully neutral as his brother approached.

“So,” Caracalla said, his voice low and sharp, ��this is the woman who has bewitched you.”

You stiffened, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. The way he looked at you was unnerving, his gaze cold and calculating.

“She’s my chosen empress,” Geta replied evenly. “And you’ll treat her with respect.”

Caracalla’s lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. “Respect is earned, brother. Not given.”

The tension between them was palpable, the unspoken rivalry hanging thick in the air. You felt like a pawn caught between two kings, each vying for dominance.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Caracalla continued, his eyes flicking back to you. “Bringing her into the palace—it’s a bold move. But boldness doesn’t always equal wisdom.”

“She’s under my protection,” Geta said firmly. “Anyone who threatens her will answer to me.”

Caracalla raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. “Careful, little brother. Threats like that can come back to haunt you.”

With that, he turned and strode away, his cloak billowing behind him. The room remained silent until he was gone, the tension slowly dissipating like a storm passing.

“Are you all right?” Geta asked, his hand brushing yours.

You nodded, though your heart was still racing. “What does he mean by ‘come back to haunt you’?”

Geta’s jaw tightened. “Caracalla doesn’t approve of anything I do. He sees me as a threat to his power, and now he’ll see you the same way. But don’t worry—I won’t let him hurt you.”

Despite his words, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Caracalla’s return marked the beginning of something dangerous.

---

In the weeks that followed, Caracalla’s presence loomed over the palace like a dark cloud. Though he remained outwardly cordial, his every word and action seemed calculated to sow doubt and discord.

He would make veiled comments in court, questioning your suitability as empress without ever addressing you directly. He lingered in places he wasn’t expected, his sharp gaze always seeming to find you.

One evening, as you walked alone in the gardens, you felt a presence behind you. Turning quickly, you found Caracalla standing there, his expression unreadable.

“You should be careful wandering alone,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with menace.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you replied, though your voice betrayed a hint of unease.

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Brave words for someone so far out of their depth.”

“What do you want?” you asked, your hands clenched at your sides.

“To understand,” he said, stepping closer. “What is it about you that has made my brother so reckless? What spell have you cast over him?”

“I’ve done nothing but be myself,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “If that’s a threat to you, perhaps you should look inward.”

His smile vanished, replaced by a hard, calculating expression. “You’re clever,” he said quietly. “Clever enough to know that your position is precarious. Be careful, little empress. The palace is a dangerous place, and loyalty is a fleeting thing.”

With that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

——

The days following your tense encounter with Caracalla passed in a haze of unease. The palace seemed colder with him there, his shadow casting a long, dark presence that crept into every corner. But in the quiet moments, when the court had settled and the whispers died down, Geta found ways to draw you away from the chaos.

He would pull you into hidden alcoves, his hand warm against yours, his touch grounding. Sometimes, he’d bring you to the gardens at night, the moonlight casting silver over his sharp features. In those moments, it felt like the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of you.

One evening, after a particularly tense council meeting where Caracalla had all but accused you of manipulating Geta, the emperor found you in your quarters.

You were seated by the window, staring out at the flickering lights of the city below. When he entered, you glanced at him, your expression guarded.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you murmured, though your heart leapt at the sight of him.

“And yet here I am,” he replied, his voice low and steady. He crossed the room, his presence filling the space, and knelt before you, his hands resting on your knees. “You’re worried.”

“Of course, I am,” you admitted. “Your brother… he hates me. He hates that you’ve chosen me. I feel like I’m walking a tightrope, and one wrong step…”

He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re not alone in this. I’m with you, every step of the way.”

His words were a balm, but the tension in your chest didn’t ease. “Geta, you’ve made enemies because of me. What if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’” he interrupted gently. “You’re my empress. My choice. And I would choose you a thousand times over, no matter the cost.”

You stared at him, searching his face for any hint of doubt. But his gaze was steady, filled with a quiet resolve that stole your breath.

He leaned closer, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life,” he murmured, his voice a bare whisper.

And then his lips were on yours, soft and warm, a promise in every touch. He kissed you like you were the only thing grounding him, like the rest of the world could fall away and it wouldn’t matter as long as you were by his side.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet space between you.

“I love you,” he confessed, the words slipping from his lips like a vow. “Not as an emperor. Not as a ruler. Just as a man who’s hopelessly, irrevocably yours.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest. “Geta, I—”

“Say it when you’re ready,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

---

Later that night, Geta insisted you join him in his private chambers, away from the prying eyes of the court. The room was warm, the golden glow of the fire casting soft shadows across the walls. He had dismissed his attendants, insisting on pouring wine for the two of you himself.

You sat together on a plush divan, his arm draped casually over your shoulders. The closeness was intoxicating, the weight of his presence a comfort you hadn’t realized you craved.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “Something no one else knows.”

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the rim of your goblet. “There’s not much to tell. My life before the palace was… ordinary.”

“Ordinary is relative,” he countered. “To me, everything about you is extraordinary.”

His words brought a flush to your cheeks, and you ducked your head to hide your smile. “Fine. When I was a girl, I used to sneak into the fields near my village to watch the stars. I always imagined they were the gods’ way of watching over us.”

Geta tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “And what do you think now?”

You glanced up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way he looked at you—as if you were the only thing that mattered. “Now, I think the stars are reminders to find light in the darkness.”

He leaned closer, his hand coming to rest on your cheek. “Then you must be my star,” he murmured. “Because you’ve brought light to my life in ways I never thought possible.”

His lips found yours again, the kiss deeper this time, filled with a longing that left you breathless. You clung to him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pulled you closer, his touch igniting a fire that burned away every fear, every doubt.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless, your foreheads pressed together as you shared a quiet moment of intimacy.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion.

You nodded, your heart swelling with a love that felt too big to contain. “Always.”

Geta's hands roam your body as he pushes you down onto the silk sheets, his golden jewelry glinting in the candlelight. He kisses a trail down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "You're mine," he growls, his voice low and possessive. "Mine to claim, mine to protect."

He settles between your legs, his weight pressing you into the mattress. You can feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of your gown, and you arch up to meet him, desperate for more.

Geta's fingers find the hem of your dress, pushing it up inch by inch until cool air meets your heated skin. He pauses, drinking in the sight of you, his eyes dark with desire.

"Beautiful," he breathes, his hand skimming over your stomach, your ribs, your breasts. "So beautiful."

He leans down, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear. "I'm going to worship every inch of you," he promises, his words sending shivers down your spine. "I'm going to make you forget everything but my name."

His mouth trails down your body, leaving a path of fire in its wake. He kisses your collarbone, your breasts, your stomach, until he reaches the apex of your thighs.

Geta looks up at you, his eyes locked with yours as he parts your folds with his fingers. "You're already so wet," he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal. "Is this all for me?"

You nod, your breath coming in short gasps as his tongue makes contact with your most sensitive parts. He groans, the sound vibrating against your skin, and he sets about his task with a single-minded determination that leaves you writhing beneath him.

He brings you to the edge again and again, his fingers and mouth working in tandem to drive you higher and higher. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he pulls back, his chest heaving with exertion.

"Not yet," he pants, his voice strained. "I'm not done with you."

He positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick heat. "Tell me you're mine," he demands, his eyes boring into yours. "Tell me you belong to me."

"Yours," you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I'm yours, Geta. All yours."

With a low groan, he thrusts forward, sheathing himself inside you in one smooth stroke. You cry out at the sudden fullness, your back arching off the bed.

Geta sets a punishing pace, his hips snapping against yours with a force that rocks the bed. Each thrust drives him deeper, harder, until the room is filled with the sound of flesh meeting flesh and the creaking of the mattress.

You meet him thrust for thrust, your legs wrapped around his waist, your fingers tangled in his hair. The pleasure builds and builds, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly until it explodes, washing over you in waves of ecstasy.

Geta follows soon after, his body tensing above you as he spills himself inside you with a guttural moan. He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck.

"My star," he murmurs, his voice soft and sated. "My beautiful, perfect star."

You hold him close, your heart swelling with a love that feels like it could burst. In this moment, the rest of the world falls away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms.

It's a perfect moment, a rare glimpse of peace in a world that's constantly at war. And you hold onto it, cherishing it, knowing that it's a gift that can't last forever.

But for now, you're content to stay in Geta's arms, to let the rest of the world fade away. Because here, with him, you're exactly where you belong.

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Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

Tag list: @captainostella

#x reader #emperor geta x y/n #emperor geta x female reader #emperor geta x you #emperor geta x reader #geta x you #geta x reader #emperor geta #emperor caracalla #emperor geta x reader smut #joseph quinn gladiator #gladiator ll #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator movie #gladiator x reader

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suzukiblu · 3 days ago

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Day twenty of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Good?” he asks again, back to nuzzling telekinetic touches against the other’s dick; back to squeezing his hand tighter around it for him. His skin’s already starting to prickle again, and starts buzzing as soon as he focuses in on what Bernard’s heart rate is doing right now. It sounds–

It sounds real good, is all. And it still sounds good with Tim’s, too.

Kon really likes it, that their heartbeats sound good together. Like . . . it’s nice, that they sound good together. Not really something he can put in his folder of things to look at when the world sucks, but . . . definitely still nice, yeah.

Definitely something he’d want to put in that folder, if he could.

Tim deserves things that nice, so–yeah. Obviously he would.

“Definitely good,” Bernard says, just barely breathless, then lifts his head to flash him a wryly affectionate smile as he lets go of his cock to actually get the condom on. Kon holds it for him and reinforces the condom reflexively as Bernard unrolls it, because if it breaks or tears and Bernard has to get another out, he is gonna regret the delay. “Man, you are–you are a fucking experience of a person, seriously.”

The buzz of those words and that smile sinks straight into Kon’s muscles, and he feels his face flush brightly and like his head could just float away entirely, superpowers or no.

“Yeah?” he asks, more than a little breathless himself; dropping his head to nuzzle him again now that he’s got the opportunity again and maybe pitching forward a bit too tight up against Bernard again, but–“M’a a nice thing, right? You like getting nice things? Present from your boyfriend, he thinks you'll like me, got me all set up and ready so you can do whatever you wanna, just please like me–”

“Okay, yeah,” Bernard says a little faintly, then buries a disbelieving laugh in Kon’s shoulder as he grips his hips again and gives them a guiding little tug. “Yeah, you’re definitely a nice thing. Mmph. Good boy, c’mon, c’mere and take a ride. Still all riled up, huh? Still need to burn off all that energy? Go ahead, have some–gngh.”

That time was definitely because Kon used his TTK to guide the other’s cock in against his hole instead of, like, waiting or anything, but god, he really just–he just–

“Fuck,” Bernard wheezes, and Kon feels the muscles in his hips just start to shift, and immediately moves down into them and Bernard’s cock just slides in so easy, and Kon moans loud about it. It’s like–it’s like there’s some itch inside him, some weird unfamiliar craving, some–just a different kind of wanting, maybe. Just–just that, maybe.

It makes him fucking melt, whatever it is.

“God, that’s still so good,” he manages, half-panting and half a laugh, and Bernard’s hands squeeze his hips and his cock twitches inside him and he feels buzzed. “God, god, can I–can I move, s’it too soon, can I–?”

“Oh, you know, if you wanna,” Bernard says, voice a little faint again but letting out a half-laugh of his own before he slides his hands down and grips Kon’s ass again; grips it and squeezes, lifting his cheeks a little. “Just make sure you do it pretty, yeah? Tim wants to see his boy feel good.”

“Gnk,” Kon says, which is definitely not a word, and the buzzing flares into a burn, and he rocks his hips down fully into Bernard’s lap and back up again even as he’s reflexively–adjusting, kind of; shifting his center of balance and his weight and rolling his shoulders back a little; spreading his knees a little farther apart on the mattress. Just–the instinctive little things he learned at shoots and that kind of thing; displaying his back and shoulders better and his ass and thighs too; making himself–pretty, he guesses, for Tim to see.

Because Bernard told him to, but also because, like–because it’s Tim, and Tim likes to watch, and Kon is very, very happy to put on a show for him.

#timberkon #konbern #timkon #timbern #kon el #conner kent #bernard dowd #tim drake #superboy #dc robin #wip: think pink #dom/sub

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moon-andstardust · 16 hours ago

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I'm so happy that they are portraying both Stolas and Via's struggles. This episode handled the complexity of their relationship so well.

In some regards Via is right, Stolas did lie to her. Stolas was partly right to have done so: a child shouldn't have to carry all of their parents' hurts and grievances.

But he took it too far, he hid too much. So now that it's all starting to come to light Via feels gutted: her father is not who she thought he was. Her image of Stolas is literally being shattered:

They were so close to each other and it turned out that didn't matter at all because not once was he honest with her about anything remotely important in his life*.

She starts doubting everything. What else could he have lied to her about? Was he just pretending to like spending time with her when in truth he was miserable the whole time?

(Note: Blitzø's face is replacing her own on the portrait)

Stolas was such a cornerstone in her life that his percieved betrayal makes her feel like her world is burning down around her. I've been in Via's position and it hurts so so much.

This line in her song feels like payback: I didn't know you, so you will not get to know me either

Stolas felt like he had to hide every ugly truth of his marriage so "that girl could have a semblance of a normal life" but not only did that not work, it further complicated matters with Via, who now thinks she can't trust her father anymore.

The other problem is that Via still doesn't have the full picture! She deserves to know dammit! That's her family! Due this she can only draw her own flawed conclusions which is just painful to watch.

#she needs time to cool down and then they need to sit down and have a proper conversation #isn't it amazing that so much conflict in hh stems from miscommunication but it never feels cheap or stupid because you can see #where the characters come from?#anyway #VIA YOUR FATHER LOVES YOU SO MUCH PLEASE DON'T DOUBT THAT #helluva boss #helluva boss spoilers #helluva boss s2 #helluva boss s2 spoilers #helluva boss s2 ep 12 #sinsmas spoilers #sinsmass #octavia #stolas #octavia goetia #stolas goetia #helluva boss meta #helluva boss analysis #vivziepop

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won4kiss · 3 hours ago

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﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ────FOREVER SOUNDS PERFECT.

(🐚) ── 𝓛EE HEESEUNG﹙희승﹚ ꒰ 𝓰. oneshot ៸ fluff ៸ established relationship ୨୧ㅤㅤ WARNiNGS : not proofread ៸ kissing ៸ petnames ៸ ❞ fiance! 𝓁ee heeseung x 𝑓! reader ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ꒰ WC : 0.6K ꒱ SYPNOSiS 𐙚 in the late hours of the night, you and heeseung indulge in a late night talk about your soon to be married future together .ᐟ ── LiBRARY

THE APARTMENT WAS SILENT WITH YOUR THOUGHTS.

the world outside could be heard slightly from the open windows, but now, wrapped in lee heeseung’s arms, everything feels still and perfect.

he’s lying on his back, and you’re curled against his chest, your legs tangled like it’s second nature. his fingers play gently with yours, occasionally spinning the engagement ring on your finger like he still can’t believe it’s there.

“you’re thinking about something, aren’t you?” you say, tilting your head up to catch his gaze.

his lips twitch into a small grin, warm and familiar. “maybe.”

you raise an eyebrow, shifting slightly to lift yourself on your elbow. “okay mr. nonchalant, spill.” ── 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖤𝖫𝖮𝖶!

heeseung sighed dramatically, letting his head fall back against the pillow with a thud. “i was just thinking about our wedding.”

your feel your heart skip a beat, but you play it cool. “oh? what about it?”

he taps his chin as if he’s deep in thought. “i’m still debating if i should cry when i see you walking down the aisle or just faint on the spot. both feel very in character for me.”

you giggle at his words, hitting his chest lightly. “be serious, hee!”

“i am serious,” he insists, catching your hand and pressing a gentle kiss to your palm. “you’re going to look so beautiful. i’m probably gonna cry a little… just so you know.”

you roll your eyes affectionately, your cheeks pink and insides warm. “good. then i’ll cry too, and we’ll be a mess together.”

heeseung grins and tugs you down so you’re lying on his chest again—his arms wrap securely around you, like he’s afraid you might slip away.

“i was also thinking about our first dance.”

“really?”

“yeah.” his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. “i don’t know what song we’ll pick, but i know i’m not letting you go, even when the song’s over. we’ll probably have to be dragged off the dance floor.”

you can’t help but smile at the image forming in your imagination. “god—you’re such a sap.”

“for you? always.” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, lingering on your skin.

“and then after the wedding… we’ll go somewhere far away for our honeymoon. somewhere with a beach, maybe. just us, no schedules, just sleeping in, exploring, eating too much good food.”

“sold,” you mumble, snuggling closer into his embrace if possible. “but you know the best part?”

“what?”

“coming home.” you trace small circles on his chest, where his heartbeat is steady and comforting.

“starting our life together. making breakfast on the weekends, falling asleep on the couch watching dumb movies, annoying you until you can’t take it anymore.”

heeseung chuckles, tilting your chin up so you’re nose to nose. “i love the sound of that.”

you grin. “even the annoying you part?”

“especially that part.” his voice softens, feeling the seriousness despite the teasing. “i want all of it. every boring, silly, annoying little moment.”

you lean up and press a soft kiss to his lips. he smiles into it, chasing after you when you pull back like he’s not done yet.

“we’re gonna have the best life,” he says so surely, eyes sparkling. “even if we burn dinner or lose our keys or—i don’t know, accidentally adopt five dogs someday.”

“accidentally?” you laugh.

he laughs too, tipping his head back against the pillow. “intentionally. whatever you desire, baby. as long as it’s with you.”

you smile, settling back into his arms, feeling so impossibly safe and loved. “forever sounds pretty nice.”

heeseung hums contentedly, his lips brushing your temple. “forever sounds perfect.”

NOTE. i love heeseung so much:( i think this will be my second to last fic of 2024!! my birthdays on tuesday that’s the only thing keeping me going rn ☹️ BUT HAIR APPOINTMENT ON THE 30TH GUESS WHOS GOING BLONDE🔥🔥🔥

୨୧ TAGLIST OPEN ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @iluvnikism @rikibwn @wonsprincess @niawonn @pockyyasii @kiss4noo @nineooooo @loves0ft @ancnymcnzjy @dazzlingjaeyun : COMMENT OR SEND AN ASK TBA.

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buckets-and-trees · 2 days ago

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Red, White & True: Kansas City - Interview Broadcast Day [9/12]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 7.6k Summary: The campaign rolls through Kansas City to make a pitstop to watch with the rest of the country as your interview with Oprah airs on Sunday night primetime television.

Content/Warnings: marriage of political convenience, slow burn

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened. And in case you missed it, this is who I mentioned in a post that I cast to play the role of Jake, our fearless campaign manager.

Previous Chapter | Series ↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

The savory aroma of slow-cooked meat and smoky spices envelops you as you step out of the campaign SUV and onto the sun-baked sidewalk in front of Arthur Bryant's Barbeque. The iconic Kansas City establishment stands before you, its red brick facade and neon sign a beacon for barbecue lovers from across the nation.

Steve emerges from the vehicle behind you, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the restaurant. "I've been looking forward to this all day," he admits, a boyish grin spreading across his face.

You can't help but smile back, feeling a flutter of excitement in your own stomach. You’re beginning to believe butterflies will never stop hitting you when he smiles at you like that.

After days of campaign events and press conferences, this small detour feels like a breath of fresh air. There will still be conversations, meeting strangers, taking questions, hearing from the people, and press capturing everything second of it, but part of these kinds of stops at least feel slightly more organic. You feel like the conversations, at least, are more real, and you get to know people for who they really are in the places they actually go on a regular kind of day. The fact that it involves world-famous barbecue is just a bonus.

It’s also one of the rare days you both get to be dressed down and casual. Steve even wears a dark blue baseball cap to help lower his profile of being recognized even more.

As you approach the entrance, you and Steve reach for each others hands, fingers locking, natural as anything now.

The moment you step inside Arthur Bryant's, you're hit with a wave of nostalgia. The no-frills interior, with its simple tables and chairs, feels like stepping back in time. The walls are adorned with photos of famous patrons and news clippings, a testament to the restaurant's rich history.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with a warm smile approaches. "Captain Rogers, Mrs. Rogers, welcome to Arthur Bryant's," he says, extending his hand. "I'm Jerry, the manager. We're honored to have you here."

Steve shakes Jerry's hand firmly. "The honor is ours, Jerry. We've heard amazing things about your barbecue."

"Well, we hope to live up to the hype," Jerry chuckles. "Why don't I give you a quick tour before we get you set?"

As Jerry leads you through the restaurant, pointing out photos of past presidents and celebrities who have dined there, you can feel the eyes of other patrons on you. There are whispers and a few excited waves, but for the most part, people seem content to let you enjoy your visit.

Jerry brings you to the counter where the magic happens. The smell of smoked meat is even stronger here, making your mouth water and your stomach growl audibly. Steve glances at you with an amused smile.

"Now, what can I get for you folks?" Jerry asks.

Steve's eyes light up as he scans the menu board. "I think I'll have the burnt ends sandwich and some fries," he says.

“And you, Mrs. Rogers?”

“I want a brisket sandwich,” you reply.

“Only the half?” Jerry asks.

“With sides of the cheesy corn, baked beans, onion rings, and cole slaw,” you add.

“Atta girl!” the man grins. “This one knows how to order!” he calls out to the others around. “She’s got my vote!”

You laugh at Jerry's enthusiasm, feeling a warmth spread through you at the easy camaraderie. Steve grins and shakes his head. "I think I've been outdone," he says good-naturedly.

Jerry chuckles as he starts preparing your order. "Well, Captain, maybe I’ll swing my vote to you by the time we hit November. Now, what can I get you to drink?"

"Sweet tea for me," you say.

"Make that two," Steve adds with a smile.

As Jerry busies himself with your order, you and Steve take a moment to look around the restaurant. The dinner crowd is starting to filter in, and you can see a mix of curiosity and excitement on the faces of those who recognize you.

A young woman approaches hesitantly, her phone clutched in her hand. "Excuse me," she says, her voice slightly trembling. "I'm sorry to bother you, but would it be okay if I took a picture with you both?"

Steve responds with a warm smile. "Of course, we'd be happy to."

The young woman's face lights up. "Thank you so much! I'm Emily, by the way.” She hands her phone to a nearby friend.

You and Steve position yourselves on either side of Emily, smiling warmly as her friend snaps a few photos. As Emily checks the pictures, her excitement is palpable.

"Thank you again," she says, her eyes shining. "I've been following your campaign. It's really inspiring to see people I feel like I relate to running instead of just old white men."

“Well, technically Steve’s a very old white man,” you tease.

Steve gives you a mock glare, and Emily laughs.

“No, I guess what I mean is people who seem like people and not just politicians,” she clarifies. “I felt like that about Charlie Young before, too, and so I’m glad he’s your running mate.”

Steve's expression softens. "That means a lot, Emily. What issues are most important to you in your day to day life?"

Emily takes a deep breath, considering her answer. "I'm about to age out of my parents' insurance, and I'm worried about how I'll afford coverage on my own."

You nod sympathetically. "We'd love to hear more about your perspective if you’re willing to share."

Emily glances at her friend, who nods encouragingly. "Well," she begins, "I'm 25 and I work as a teacher's assistant. The pay isn't great, and the school district doesn't offer health insurance for part-time employees. I've been looking into private plans, but they're so expensive. I have a pre-existing condition, and I'm worried about how I'll manage my healthcare costs once I'm off my parents' plan."

Steve listens intently, his brow furrowed in concern. "We believe that access to quality, affordable healthcare is a right, not a privilege. No one should have to choose between their health and their financial stability."

You nod in agreement. "We've been hearing similar stories across the country. It's clear that our current healthcare system isn't working for many Americans, especially young people just starting their careers."

Emily smiles gratefully. "I’m not asking for hand outs - I’m working, but it needs to not feel like it’s impossible to afford to live.”

Steve nods, his expression serious. "Absolutely, Emily. You shouldn't have to struggle to afford basic necessities like healthcare while working hard and contributing to society. I want us to implement solutions that work for all Americans, not just those at the top. I think we start by simplifying the process and expand subsidies under the Affordable Care Act to make coverage more affordable for young adults and low-income workers, but next steps will involve looking to other countries who have better healthcare systems and adopting what we see is working. Detractors say that some of those other systems don’t work for everyone or they’re not perfect, but what we’ve got here isn’t much to write home about as it stands."

"And it's voices like yours that help shape our policies and remind us why this work is so important," you add.

Emily beams, clearly touched by your words. "Thank you for listening. It means a lot when I know it must be so busy for you both. Isn’t your Oprah interview airing tonight?” she asks.

“Yes, we’re just here to grab a bite and to pick up some food to take back to the campaign staff while we watch later.”

“Well, thanks again, and good luck tonight,” she says.

As Emily rejoins her friend, Jerry calls out that your order is ready. You and Steve thank him as he hands over your loaded trays.

"Enjoy your meal, folks," Jerry says with a wink. “We’ll work with your guys to load up your catering to-go boxes, y’all just enjoy.”

You and Steve thank him and then scan the bustling restaurant, looking for an open table. The dinner rush is in full swing, and most tables are already occupied. Your eyes land on a table in the corner where four men, all appearing to be in their seventies, are engaged in animated conversation over their half-eaten meals.

Steve catches your eye and nods towards the table. You both make your way over, trays in hand.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Steve says, his voice warm and friendly. "Would you mind if we joined you? Seems like all the other tables are taken."

The men look up, their eyes widening in recognition. There's a moment of stunned silence before one of them, a man with salt-and-pepper hair and kind eyes, breaks into a wide grin.

"Well, I'll be damned," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of a Southern drawl. "Sure we’ve got a space for Captain America and his peach of a wife!”

As you and Steve take your seats at the table, you can feel the energy shift. The men are clearly excited, but there's also a hint of nervousness in the air.

"I'm Bill," says the man with the Southern drawl, extending his hand to Steve. "These are my buddies Tom, Frank, and Joe. We've been coming here every Sunday for the past 20 years."

Steve shakes each of their hands in turn, his smile warm and genuine. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. I'm Steve, and this is my wife," he says, introducing you by name.

You smile and greet each of the men, feeling a sense of ease settle over the table.

"So, what brings you folks to our neck of the woods?" Frank asks, leaning forward with interest. His weathered hands cradle a half-empty glass of iced tea.

"We're just looking for the best barbecue in the country," you explain, unwrapping your brisket sandwich.

The four men all laugh heartily, and you grin before you take your first bite. Your eyes widen in appreciation. “Oh, wow. This is incredible.” The meat is tender and flavorful, practically melting in your mouth.

"Best in Kansas City," Tom nods proudly. "Been coming here since I was knee-high to a grasshopper."

As you enjoy your brisket sandwich, Steve takes a bite of his burnt ends, his eyes closing it seems to fully savor that first mouthful. "This really is something special," he agrees, reaching for a napkin.

"You've got to try this," he says, holding his sandwich across to you. You smile and lean forward for a bite, letting him feed you, hoping that not all eyes are on you.

“Mmm, that’s good, too,” you hum. “But if you offered so you could try a bite of mine in return, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

This garners another round of laughter from the men along with some hoots and some ribbing, and Steve just smirks and shakes his head at you.

“I’ll share my sides, though,” you say with a teasing smile, pushing your tray closer to the middle.

Joe, who's been quietly observing until now, clears his throat. "If you don't mind me asking, Captain, what made you decide to run for office? I mean, you've already done so much for this country."

Steve sets down his sandwich, his expression thoughtful. "Well, Joe, I've always believed in serving my country, in whatever way I can. After everything that's happened in recent years, I felt like I could do more good by working within the system, trying to bring people together and address the issues that matter most to everyday Americans."

Bill nods, a wistful look in his eyes. "It's refreshing to hear, I'll tell you that. Feels like politicians these days are more concerned with having an office than serving the people and a lot of us old-timers are worried about the direction the country's headed."

Steve’s brow furrows. "I understand those concerns," he says thoughtfully. "The world is changing rapidly, and it can be unsettling. But I believe in the resilience and spirit of the American people. We've faced challenges before, and we've always come through stronger."

Bill nods slowly, a pensive look on his face. "That's true enough - and when you say it, we can believe it because we know you’ve got old experience in those bones, too. But it feels different now, doesn't it? Like we're more divided than ever."

Steve nods solemnly, wiping his hands on a napkin. "You're right, Bill. The divisions in our country are deep, and they're not going to be healed overnight. But I believe we have more in common than what separates us. We've been crisscrossing the country, meeting people and hearing their stories. We all want safe communities, good jobs, affordable healthcare, and a bright future for our children and grandchildren."

Frank leans forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. "That's all well and good, Captain, but how do you plan to actually bring people together? Seems like every politician says that, but nothing ever changes. It feels like people aren't even speaking the same language anymore when it comes to politics."

You take a sip of your sweet tea, watching Steve carefully as he considers his response. You can see the determination in his eyes.

Steve leans back in his chair, his eyes scanning the faces of the men around the table. The warm glow of the restaurant's lighting casts a soft hue on their weathered features, each line and wrinkle telling a story of years lived and experiences gained.

"You're right, Frank. It does feel like we're not speaking the same language anymore. But that's exactly why I'm running as an independent candidate," Steve begins, his voice calm but filled with conviction. "I'm not beholden to either the Democratic or Republican party. This isn't just about wearing a different color tie or having a different letter next to my name on the ballot. It's about fundamentally changing from a battle for political power between red and blue to calling for consensus to see action that matters to the three hundred and thirty-four million people who live in our country."

He pauses, reaching for his sweet tea. "I believe we need to start by listening to each other again," Steve continues, his eyes meeting each of the men's gazes in turn. "Really listening, not just waiting for our turn to speak. That's why we're here, sitting with you gentlemen, sharing a meal. It's why we make these stops at local businesses and community centers across the country."

You nod in agreement, swallowing a bite of your brisket sandwich before adding, "We've found that when you sit down with people, break bread together, and have real conversations, you often discover that we're not as different as the headlines make us out to be."

Tom, speaks up. "That's all well and good, but how does that translate to actual policy? How do you bridge the gap when it comes to the big issues?"

Steve leans forward, his elbows on the table. "It starts by voting for policies, not parties. When we focus on specific issues rather than partisan loyalties, we often find more common ground than we expect. For example, take healthcare. Most Americans, regardless of political affiliation, agree that healthcare costs are too high and that something needs to be done. The disagreement is usually about how to solve the problem, not whether it exists."

He pauses to take another bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before continuing. "We just spoke with a young woman over there named Emily who's worried about affording health insurance. That's not a red or blue issue - that's an American issue."

Joe nods slowly. "I can relate to that. My grandson's in the same boat."

"Exactly," Steve continues. "So instead of getting bogged down in partisan debates, we need to look at what's actually working. What can we learn from other countries? What innovative solutions are individual states implementing? We need to be willing to try new approaches and admit when something isn't working."

Frank leans back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "That sounds good in theory, Captain, but how do you get Congress to go along with that? They seem pretty set in their ways."

Steve nods, acknowledging the challenge. "You're right, Frank. Changing the culture in Washington won't be easy. But I believe the American people are ready for a different approach. If we can build a broad coalition of voters who demand bipartisan solutions, we can put pressure on Congress to work together."

"And," you add, setting down your fork, "Steve isn't just talking about compromise for the sake of compromise. It's about finding common ground and building on it. For example, both parties agree that we need to improve our infrastructure. So let's start there and create jobs while we're at it."

Bill nods slowly, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "I like the sound of that.”

The conversation eases from there to the two of you learning more about the four men and the lives they’ve led in Kansas while you eat. Once you’re finished - Steve having cleared both your trays when you’d had your fill of the collection - you take a picture with these men as well, and with Jerry and some of the staff by the counter before you leave.

When you and Steve step out of Arthur Bryant's, the warm evening air envelops you. The sun is setting, casting a golden glow over the city streets. You can still taste the smoky flavor of the barbecue, and your stomach feels pleasantly full.

A small crowd has gathered, word having spread of your presence at the iconic barbecue joint. There's a mix of excitement and curiosity in their faces as they call out greetings and words of encouragement.

Steve pauses to shake a few hands and exchange brief words with some of the gathered people. You follow suit, touched by the warmth and genuine interest of the Kansas City residents.

"Thank you for coming to our city," an older woman says, her eyes shining. "It means a lot that you're taking the time to visit places like this."

"We're honored to be here," you reply sincerely. "Thank you for your hospitality."

As you walk towards the waiting SUV, the ever-present security detail for your public outings moves seamlessly around you, a constant reminder of the enormity of what you’ve gotten yourself into.

Steve opens the door for you. Just before you step in, you turn back to wave at the small crowd, and Steve waves at them, as well.

Inside the SUV with the door closed, the calm quiet is nice. Steve's hand finds yours again, and he gives it a gentle squeeze. "That was something, wasn’t it," he says, a contented smile on his face.

You nod in agreement. "The food was incredible, but the conversations... that's what makes these stops so special."

"It really is," Steve replies, his voice thoughtful. "Every time we do something like this, I'm reminded of why we're doing all of it. It's about the Emilys and the Bills and the Jerrys."

As the SUV pulls away from Arthur Bryant's, you both settle into a comfortable silence, processing the events of the evening. Steve's thumb traces gentle circles on the back of your hand, a now-familiar gesture that never fails to sooth you and make you feel more connected to him. "You know," he says softly, "I was thinking about what Bill said. About how things feel different now, more divided."

You turn to face him, seeing the thoughtful expression on his face. "What are you thinking?"

Steve's brow furrows slightly. "I've seen this country go through a lot of changes, faced a lot of challenges. But there's always been this... resilience, this underlying unity that pulled us through. I wonder sometimes if we've lost sight of that."

You squeeze his hand reassuringly. "I don't think we've lost it completely. It's still there, just buried under a lot of noise and frustration and fear. What we saw tonight - people coming together, sharing a meal, having real conversations - that's the spirit of America that's always been there."

Steve nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're right. And that’s the job now - uncover that spirit again, remind people of what we can accomplish when we work together."

You shift back to get more comfortable in your seat again, but keep holding hands as you look out the window.

"Are you nervous about the Oprah interview airing tonight?" you ask, breaking the quiet.

Steve chuckles softly. "A little," he admits. "It's one thing to have these intimate conversations with people like we just did, but knowing millions will be watching..." He trails off, shaking his head slightly. “And the revelation about our marriage…”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze. "You were amazing during the interview. Honest, authentic, just like you always are. People will respond to that."

He turns to you, his blue eyes filled with warmth. "We were amazing together," he corrects gently. "You went with me when I climbed out on that limb of truth.”

“I was feeling the need to set the record straight, too,” you reassure him. “It felt like you were reading my mind.”

He lets out a breath that apparently he was holding. “I couldn't imagine doing any of this without you now."

You feel a flutter in your chest at his words. Even after all this time, he still has that effect on you. "Well, good thing you don't have to," you reply with a soft smile.

As the SUV winds its way through the Kansas City streets, you both fall into a comfortable silence, watching the city lights flicker to life as evening overtakes the afternoon.

The weight of the campaign, the responsibility you've taken on, settles over you like a familiar blanket. There’s the mantle of potential presidential job ahead, but then there’s things like the motorcade. To come on this very small outing to get food, there were three SUVs - the one the two of you are riding in, one ahead, and one behind - and eight Secret Security men and women, plus two campaign staffers who had come to make sure things went smoothly in and out, pick up the food, and pay for everything, and Steve is only a candidate.

If he becomes president, it will only grow - more security, bigger motorcade, four years of responsibilities and obligations and opportunities and being scheduled every waking hour of the day.

As you contemplate the enormity of it all, Steve's voice pulls you from your thoughts.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asks softly, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on your hand.

You turn to him with a small smile. "Just thinking about how much our lives have changed. And how much more they would change if we win."

Steve nods, understanding in his eyes. "Sometimes I still can't believe we're here, doing this."

"Do you ever regret it?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Deciding to run?"

Steve is quiet for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. "No," he says finally, his voice firm. "It's not easy, and there are days when I feel the weight of it more than others. But then I think about the people we meet all day, every day.”

“Your big heart is a sucker for people,” you tease him good-naturedly. “If only you were more surly and selfish.”

Steve chuckles at your teasing, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're right, I am a sucker for people. But you're no better, Mrs. Rogers."

As you continue to banter, the SUV turns onto a tree-lined street in a quiet suburban neighborhood. The sun has fully set now, and the warm glow of streetlights illuminates rows of well-maintained houses. Each home seems to tell its own story - some with Halloween decorations already adorning their porches, others with children's bicycles left haphazardly on front lawns.

The SUV slows to a stop in front of a charming two-story house with pale yellow siding and white trim. A wrap-around porch extends across the front, complete with a porch swing gently swaying in the evening breeze. The lawn is neatly manicured, with vibrant flower beds lining the walkway.

"Home sweet home, at least for tonight," Steve says with a smile as he opens the car door. “Tell me you’re just as eager as I am to meet Jake’s family.”

“I’ve been dying of curiosity ever since we found out!” You step out of the car, walking quickly up the front sidewalk.

No one knew Jake’s sister lived in Kansas with her husband and four kids until Elsa brought up whether the team should watch the interview together at the hotel or in groups in a few of the suites when Jake said that wouldn’t be necessary - that his baby sister had insisted she wanted to host the full traveling staff in her home for it.

As you approach the front door, it swings open before you can knock. A petite woman with Jake's same dark brown eyes and infectious smile emerges, her face beaming with excitement.

"Welcome! I'm Kathy, Jake's sister," she says, extending her hand. "It's such an honor to have you both here."

Steve shakes her hand warmly. "The honor is ours, Kathy. We can’t thank you for opening your home to us."

You follow suit, greeting Kathy with a smile. "It's wonderful to finally meet you."

Kathy ushers you inside, where the aroma of freshly baked cookies mingles with the scent of coffee, and the rest of your team begins to file in behind you. The living room is cozy and inviting, with overstuffed couches and chairs arranged to face a large flat-screen TV. Campaign staff members are already scattered around the room, chatting animatedly and nibbling on chips and cookies.

The house is alive with domestic energy, a stark contrast to the usual hotel suites and conference rooms you've grown accustomed to. Children's laughter echoes from somewhere upstairs, and you can hear the distant chatter of voices coming from what you assume is the kitchen.

Kathy's husband, a tall man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper hair, emerges from the dining room. "I'm Tom," he introduces himself, shaking your hands. "We've set up a spot in the dining room for the barbecue spread.”

“Sorry for descending on you with all this chaos, Tom,” Steve apologizes.

“Oh, please, we’ve got four kids from four to sixteen, this is hardly new for us. Bring this kind of feast and you’re welcome any night of the week,” he insists.

Steve heads through to the dining room with Tom, but you make your way to the kitchen instead. Your eyes land on Bucky who’s in close conversation with campaign spokesperson Lisa and one of the new speechwriters.

They look up when they notice you.

“Where’s Sophia?” you ask. You don’t need her in this moment, but you’re so used to her finding you whenever you arrive at a new location if she isn’t already with you that it’s strange you haven’t seen her yet.

With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, Bucky informs you, “She’s out on the back porch with Sam.”

You raise an eyebrow in surprise and ask, “Alone?”

Bucky just smiles slyly and confirms your suspicions - he's trying to play matchmaker. You had wondered if you were only being hopeful at seeing signs of a potential spark between them, and now you’re glad it wasn’t only you seeing things happening there.

“Hang on,” Lisa slams her water bottle down on the counter. “Sam and Sophia?”

Bucky nods, “Mhmm.”

“No! Not yet!” she blusters. “We’re still three weeks out from election day! This is your first campaign, Barnes, so believe me when I tell you we need to avoid as many campaign crushes coming together as we can for at least another week - two if we can manage it - if we want to keep this operation running like a well-oiled machine! We want people pining as long as we can, not working through the awkward is this crush lasting after the campaign phase in the final days.” And with that, Lisa’s already rushing out of the kitchen, no doubt on her way to need something from one of them.

You shake your head, amused by Lisa’s reaction. As much as you understand her perspective from a campaign management standpoint, you can't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Sam and Sophia. After all, you know exactly how difficult it is to navigate feelings in the midst of such an intense, all-consuming experience.

But you wonder how Lisa’s timeline translates to you and Steve because this isn’t a campaign crush? You’re married to the someone you’re building a relationship with on the campaign trail.

Because you have developed strong, deep feelings for Steve. You know they’re real. You know he has feelings for you. You’ve said things to each other indicating you both know this isn’t only a marriage to have a President and potential First Lady campaigning for the White House any more. But what are the next steps, and is there a too soon to take them on the campaign trail? The past week has been wonderful, spending time so effortlessly together as you can, routinely sitting right next to each other without question, holding hands, Steve’s arms often around your shoulders. There hadn’t been more kissing like your night alone in Brooklyn, but there had been more chaste kisses exchanged, and easily.

In a matter of hours things would fundamentally shift given what the rest of the world was going to learn about your marriage from the interview, so it would probably be smart to maintain whatever you were now and ride out whatever the fallout might end up being, and not add any more complexity to the situation.

“She’s right,” the other woman in the room says, bringing your attention back to the moment with Bucky and the speechwriter. “I’ve seen so many campaign crushes peak too soon, and it’s painful to watch,” she laughs - but do you detect it’s a little nervously?

Jake enters the kitchen with a broad smile.

"You made it here!" he exclaims. "I see you've met the family. What do you think of my little sister's humble abode, Mrs. Rogers?"

You return his smile warmly. "It's lovely so far. Your sister and her husband really are so great to host all of us."

Jake chuckles. "Yeah, Kathy's always been like that. Heart of gold. You should see her at Thanksgiving - she insists on inviting every stray and lonely soul in the neighborhood."

You arch an eyebrow. “Jake, I have this suspicion there’s a big softie under your campaign manager persona to rival your sister.”

“Sure, of course,” he admits, “but people can’t know I have a marshmallow heart up front. When the staff are afraid and want to impress me, they set the bar high and only keep climbing from there.” He points at the Bucky and the speechwriter, “I will deny it if you spread that nasty rumor.”

You all laugh.

“Will you two make the rounds?” Jake looks at Bucky and the speechwriter. “Let people know dinner’s up and that I need to talk to everyone about five minutes before the interview starts to air? Living room.”

Jake's request sends the other two off, leaving you alone with him in the kitchen. He turns to you with a more serious expression.

"How are you holding up?" he asks, his voice lowered. "Big night."

You take a deep breath, considering your answer. "I'm okay. A little nervous, I guess. It's one thing to do the interview, but now that it’s done but finally going to be out there for better or worse..."

Jake nods understandingly. "It's natural to feel that way. But I want you to know, you and Steve both knocked it out of the park. The footage I've seen is powerful stuff."

You feel a flutter of anticipation in your stomach. "Thanks, Jake. That means a lot."

"And I do mean it," he continues, leaning against the counter. "You know I don’t get paid to bullshit anyone. The honesty, the vulnerability... it's exactly what people need to see right now.”

You smile gratefully at Jake's reassurance. "I just hope the public sees it that way."

Jake nods confidently. "They will. Look, I've been in this game a long time, and I've rarely seen candidates connect with people the way you and Steve do. This interview is just going to reinforce that."

As you're about to respond, Steve enters the kitchen, a plate of barbecue in hand. "There you are," he says, smiling warmly at you. "I was wondering where you'd gotten off to."

Jake straightens up, clapping Steve on the shoulder. "Just giving your wife a little pep talk before the big show," he says with a wink. "I'll leave you two alone for a bit. Don't forget, living room in about fifteen minutes."

As Jake exits, Steve moves closer to you, setting his plate down on the counter. You grin, familiar now with how much food the super soldier can pack away.

"You okay?" Steve asks softly, his blue eyes searching your face.

You nod, grin softening to a smaller smile. "Jake says we’ll be fine, but I can’t help a few nerves still."

Steve reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. "We're in this together. Whatever happens, we face it as a team."

His touch and words calm you, as they always do now. You squeeze his hand back. "You're right."

Steve smiles, then glances at his plate of barbecue. "Want to help me out with some of this?"

You laugh, eyeing the heaping plate. "No way. I’m saving the small bit of room I’ve got for one of Kathy’s cookies."

The two of you chat with campaign staffers as they filter in and out of the kitchen and Tom and Kathy - who comes through with a plate of her cookies - until it’s time to congregate in the living room.

Once everyone is packed in on all the furniture, extra chairs that have been brought in, and even some pillows and cushions on spots of the floor, its crowded but cozy, and it seems like it would be wrong to have any of the team in the other room for a night like this.

Jake stands in front of the tv - which is already on but muted until the interview goes live - and clears his throat. The room falls silent, all eyes turning to him. The excitement in the air is palpable, a mix of nervous energy and anticipation.

"Alright, team," Jake begins, his voice carrying across the crowded living room. "Before we dive into the interview, I've got some news to share." He pauses, building the suspense, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I just got off the phone with our polling team," he continues, his eyes scanning the room. "We have official data as of an hour ago, and I've got to say, the numbers are looking good. Really good."

A murmur of excitement ripples through the group. You feel Steve's hand tighten around yours, his body tensing slightly beside you.

Jake holds up his hands, calling for quiet. "Now, I don't want anyone getting ahead of themselves, but..." he pauses again before his face breaks into a wide smile. "Our latest poll shows that Steve has gained four points in the last week alone. This puts the Rogers-Young ticket just three points behind our closest competitor."

The room erupts in cheers and applause. You see Sam clap Bucky on the back, both men grinning ear to ear. Campaign staffers high-five each other, their faces beaming with excitement. You feel a surge of elation course through you, and you turn to Steve, who's wearing an expression of disbelief and joy.

“However,” Jake cuts into the celebrations, “no one can coast, especially after tonight. In tonight’s interview, Captain and Mrs. Rogers shared some information about their relationship that is going to dramatically shift public perception of their marriage. There are about a dozen people who already know, and I’m going to tell you now so that you have the next twenty minutes or so to wrap your head around how you’re own reaction.”

The nervous excitement in the room turned to trepidation within less than a second.

Jake continues, “There’s superstitions - or expectations - that there’s always some type of news that will break weeks or days before an election that has a significant impact on the narrative of the campaigns for public perception and tip the scales for who wins - it’s called the October Surprise. This might be it.”

You hold your breath and Steve holds tightly to your hand.

“Some of you have idly asked questions or made comments about the Rogers’ quick engagement and marriage and accepted the statement that they realized if they were going to get married, they needed to do it before the filing deadline to officially get Steve on the ballot. Others have noticed and wondered why we always book them separate rooms. I said the directive to our advance coordinator came from me, that it simplified things if one of them had an earlier departure time than the other.

“The truth is,” Jake explains, “that I said Captain Rogers needed a wife if we were going to have any chance of winning with him running as a third-party candidate without a prior political career. Theirs was a politically arranged marriage, and they met the day of their wedding.”

There are gasps and murmurs immediately around the room.

“I know you will have questions. Elsa is giving the same news to our team back at campaign HQ in DC,” Jake says. “I’d like everyone to watch the interview before you ask any questions or make any statements or decisions. If you’re in this room, I’m betting you’re giving your blood, sweat, and tears for more than the semantics around their marriage, and I think what you’ll learn from their conversation with Oprah will answer most of your questions. Deal?”

There’s still some tension in the air, but the consensus is there.

“Then, here we go,” Jake says. “Remember, as with everything else on this campaign, only Lisa makes statements on behalf of the campaign, and that includes texts from your family and friends who want an inside scoop from you tonight while they watch with the rest of America.”

The television is taken off mute, and within moments, the program begins.

Watching the interview is an out of body experience. You remember every moment, reliving it as it plays out on screen. The ninety minutes seem to stretch on forever, and yet when it’s all over and done, it feels like it can’t have been more than five minutes.

Everyone says it went well. You think it went well. Steve feels like it went well. The team has a few questions - mostly for Jake about strategy and messaging moving forward. Steve says he’s more than willing to answer questions, but Mike - one of the policy advisors - seems to speak for everyone when he says, "I think we're good, Cap. We all probably need some time to fully process this, but the interview spoke for itself. You two were honest and open. I'm still 100% behind this campaign and what you stand for.”

There are nods and murmurs of agreement from the rest of the team. The tension that had filled the room earlier has dissipated, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose and determination.

Jake claps his hands together. "Alright, team. Let's all get some rest and we'll regroup in the morning. Elsa and Peter have already been working on strategy ahead of tonight, and they and Lisa will already be working tonight and with the first wave of morning shows bright and early. Dump questions and thoughts into the Slack workspace to your directors as needed or straight to me. We’ll meet in the morning discuss our next phase and handling the positive and negative reactions we expect moving forward."

As the group begins to disperse, you and Steve make your way to Kathy and Tom to thank them for their hospitality.

"It was our pleasure," Kathy says warmly, pulling you both into a hug. "We're honored to have been a part of this night."

Tom nods in agreement. "You're welcome back anytime you’re in Kansas. And for what it's worth, I think you two make a great team, arranged marriage or not."

You feel a warmth spread through you at his words. "Thank you, Tom. That means a lot."

Behind them, there’s a smaller TV on behind them, muted, but showing pundits already discussing the interview.

Jake approaches. "The SUV is ready when you are," he says. "I've arranged for you to have a later start tomorrow morning. I figure you both could use some extra rest after tonight."

Steve nods gratefully. "Thanks, Jake. We appreciate it."

Sam, Bucky, and Sophia are all with you and Steve on the ride back to the hotel.

There are six or eight of your team who arrived ahead of you, and you cross paths with them on the way to the hotel bar. They invite the five of you to join them, when you meet Steve’s eyes, you can see he’s feeling as drained you, and so the two of you encourage everyone else to go and make your excuses to go upstairs.

In the elevator, Steve drapes an arm around your shoulders and pulls you to his side. You melt into him, wrapping both arms around his strong chest, and inhale his scent - smiling at the tinge of barbecue smoke that mingled in and still lingers from earlier in the day.

As the elevator rises, you feel the tension of the evening finish melting away. The warmth of Steve's body against yours is comforting, and you allow yourself to fully relax into his embrace.

"What a night," Steve murmurs, his voice rumbling in his chest.

You nod against him. "I still can't believe we actually did it. Told the whole world."

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

The elevator dings as it reaches your floor. Steve keeps his arm around you as you walk down the hallway to your rooms. When you reach your door, you both pause, and he moves away from you just enough to clearly look at you.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his blue eyes searching your face.

You take a moment to consider the question. "Relieved, I think. And a little scared. But mostly... hopeful?"

Steve nods, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I feel the same way. The weight has been lifted, but now we're stepping into uncharted territory."

You lean against the door frame, looking up at him. "No more hiding, no more pretending. It's all out there now."

"For better or worse," Steve agrees, his eyes never leaving yours.

Steve's hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. You move to close the gap between you, cup your hand around his neck, and press your lips to his. There’s heat in the kiss, but it’s soft, warm, promising.

The kiss deepens as Steve's arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. You sink into his embrace, fingers threading through his hair, falling further into the kiss.

When you finally part, you're both a little breathless. Steve rests his forehead against yours, a soft smile on his lips. "I've been wanting to do that all day," he murmurs.

You can't help but smile back. "Me too."

For a moment, you both just stand there, savoring the closeness. Then reality creeps back in - you're still in the hallway of a hotel, with your security details positioned nearby, trying to be as discreet as they can in a long hallway which translates to almost zero discreetness.

Steve seems to realize this too. He straightens up, though he keeps one arm around your waist. "We should both get some sleep," he says, a hint of reluctance in his voice.

You nod, but don't release your hold on him. "Probably," you agree.

For another moment, neither of you moves, but then you hear the elevator ding again at the end of the hallway and break apart as it opens, a few staffers stepping out.

As the staffers approach, you and Steve exchange a look that speaks volumes. The moment has passed, but the lingering warmth remains.

You exchange a few words and offer polite nods as they pass by. Once they're out of earshot, you turn back to Steve with a small, almost shy smile.

"Goodnight, Steve," you say softly, reaching for your room key.

He catches your hand gently before you can insert the key, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. "Goodnight," he murmurs against your skin.

With one last lingering look, Steve reluctantly lets go of your hand and steps back. You slip into your room, closing the door behind you with a soft click. Leaning against it, you take a deep breath, your heart still racing from the kiss and the intensity of Steve's gaze.

You move through your nightly routine on autopilot, your mind still buzzing. As you climb into bed, you can't help but wonder what tomorrow will bring. The world knows the truth now, and there's no telling how they'll react.

But as you drift off to sleep, it was such a good day that you find yourself feeling more excited than anxious.

Twelve hours later, you would not believe how wrong you were.

next part: coming 12/27

I gave you a little calm before the storm.

Plus some seeds of Sam & Sophia! 🥰

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x yn #red white & true #aspen wrote something

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measuredingold · 2 days ago

Text

cause everyone knows i got a broken heart

authors note: last but not least, folio’s has been completed ! i always enjoy writing him, so if you all ever have requests for our folio here, please send them to me lol inspired by the song taken :)

jolly’s, noah’s, and nicholas’

pairing: nick folio x reader

word count: 961

cw/tw: reader is heartbroken, big unsaid feelings, folio is a sweetie, noah just wants his friends to be happy, jolly is a sore loser, fluff, open but hopeful ending, 18+ minors do not interact

"You look happier."

Noah's voice breaks you from your spell, blinking away from Nick to look at your friend.

"Hm?"

"I said you look happier." He gives you a small smile, the real one he only reserves for his friends, and leans in closer. "It's nice, I missed the happy you."

"Thanks. I did, too." You mumble out, face burning.

The last year had been hard and there were times when you didn't think you could come out of it, wholeheartedly believing you'd die of a broken heart. But those bad days slowly turned into kinda bad days, and those days slowly turned into alright days. You're not where you want to be, but the broken pieces of you that were left behind slowly started to be pieced back together, one by one.

You glance over at Nick again who caught your gaze, face softening as he sends you a wave. You send one back before looking at Noah again, that small smile now turning into a knowing grin.

"Don't even start." You point a finger towards him, eyes narrowing into a playful glare.

"I'm not starting anything." He holds his hands up in defense before looking between you and his bandmate across the room, leaning in closer. "He really likes you, you know?"

Your face burns again. "I know."

It felt weird admitting that. You know how Nick felt about you, and how you slowly started to feel about him. It was all weird to realize when you were still healing from your broken heart.

"Are you gonna give him a chance?"

"I don't know." You say honestly and the look Noah gives you lets you know he understands. "It's complicated."

"Yeah, I'm sure it is." He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his pants, shoulder bumping into yours. "But... I'm also sure he's a good guy. Would do anything for you. It wouldn't be so bad to give him a chance, right?"

You eye Noah for a second, brow raising. The boy doesn't say anything, just gives you that same knowing grin.

"I'm starting to think he paid you to say that."

"I can't confirm nor deny that." Noah shrugs before bumping his shoulder into yours again as you both laughed. "But, seriously. He's good for you. I think you know that."

You do. The second Nick came into your life your world was turned up again after being turned down for so long. He was like a light in the darkness, guiding you through all the bad shit to get you to the good shit. You haven't been this happy in months, and yet...

"I don't know." You mumble, eyes back on Nick who was focused on his game of pool with Jolly. "There's just a lot that goes into it, you know? I'm still scared. I don't think he'd hurt me intentionally, but knowing that he could is what's stopping me, I think."

"Your therapist tell you that?"

You snort. "Maybe... but she's right. I think my mind is still in flight or fight when it comes to things like that. I don't know if I'm ready, but... he makes me want to give it another shot."

"Yeah?"

You can hear the smile in his voice, though your eyes are still on Nick. "Yeah."

It's silent between you two after that, leaned against the wall beside each other as you watch the game between Nick and Jolly unfold. The older out of the two swears when Nick wins, the second time tonight, and you can't stop the smile stretching across your lips when he sends you a wink. Jolly reaches into his pocket to pull out a wad of cash, practically throwing it at Nick.

"Not fair! You always do better when she's here." Jolly grumbles out, pointing an accusing finger your way.

You hold your hands up. "I'm literally just standing here."

"Yeah, but you're like his good luck charm. He always plays better when you're here. It's weird." Jolly huffs out, but you can still make out the playful tone in his voice.

"You're just jealous you don't have a pretty good-luck charm." Nick teases as he makes his way over to you and Noah.

Your cheeks burn from his words and you don't dare look at Noah. You can see that shit eating grin in your head perfectly.

"Did you hear that? He thinks you're pretty." Noah dramatically whispers to you, groaning when you elbow his side not so gently.

"Shut up." You whisper back, plastering a smile on your face when Nick gets closer. "How much you get out of him this time, winner?"

"I think just enough to buy you and I a drink." He says while counting his winnings, whistling to himself once he finished. "Actually, I can buy us two drinks."

"Wow, two drinks? A man after my own heart." You joke, but the smile on Nick's face lets you know it's anything but.

"I sure am. Tell me, is it working yet?"

You don't stop yourself from smiling. "Maybe it is."

"I'll take it." Nick hums before holding his hand out, waiting for you to take it. "C'mon, let's go get a drink."

You take it without much thought, letting your fingers lace with his as he guides you towards the bar. You can feel Noah's eyes on you, and you can still see that shit eating grin in your mind, but you don't care about that. You don't care that maybe he's right. No, all you care about is the way Nick's staring at you, like you hold the sun and the fucking moon in the palm of your hands. It makes you feel like giving him that chance wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #nick folio fic #nick folio fanfiction #nick folio fanfic #mine

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ushiko · 5 hours ago

Text

every season i fall more in love with you

synopsis: experience each season with nanami right by your side

pairing: nanami x fem! reader

word count: 2.3k

winter with nanami are spent with a warm cup of hot chocolate in your hands while the fireplace glows with a burning wick of vanilla in the corner. nanami sat in his reading chair with his latest novel lying in his lap as his eyes shifted over the lines. your eyes shift over every so often as the light of the fireplace reflects off his chiseled face. it only brought out the features that you loved most about nanami. his warm hazel shined brighter under the golden fire light bringing a certain buzz to your heart. his skin looked as soft as your favorite blanket that of course nanami bought for you last Christmas. made you want to snuggle him even more.

“dear , you are staring,” nanami said as his eyes shifted over to you. he couldn’t help but smile as he watched you get bashful of being caught. he could see the small color on your cheeks and the warmth flooding your face. he watched your lips form in a small pout as your eyes barely met his.

“was not,” you mumble with your arms crossing your chest.

a light chuckle crosses his lips as he watches you shift your blanket higher on your lap and focus completely on the movie playing on the screen. he shakes his head at your bashfulness but feels that his heart would burst at how cute you are. He shut the book on his lap, shifting his way next to you on the couch. Your eyes barely glance his way as he sits beside you with his arms lying on the backside of the couch.

“sweethearttttt, look at me,” he drags on in a whisper with his lips touching the shell of your ear. feeling the heat of your face touch, his lips as they stretch into a smile as he feels your body unknowingly shift toward him. Your backside was a hair away from his chest, so to take up the space, Nanami wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you to his chest.

“nanami!”

“what? I just wanted you close to me dear. Something wrong with that ?” He smugly asks as his smirk touches your cheek. He plants a small kiss on your temple as you shift in his lap.

“no, never,” you mumble as you lay your hand on his chest and head on his shoulder. a smile spreads wildly on his lips as you moved the blanket to reach over his lap. these were his favorite nights when you two forget about the dreadful world outside and just focus on each other. the only sounds that could be heard were the crackle of the amber fire and the sound of home alone filing your home walls. nanami wraps his arms around you tightly as you snuggle into his neck. pressing a quick kiss to the crown of your head, nanami felt his worries melt away with the slow beat of your heart warming his body and all woes of winter melt away.

spring with nanami are spent in the park watching the birds fly nest to nest as you watch the trees glow and turn green as the winter melts away. new life is brought into the world as a small ring sits on your left hand which came into the world the winter by the fire and candlelight. Nanami shyly proposed in the soft morning light on Christmas morning with the ring tied to the new puppy he bought to keep you company while he was away on missions. you almost missed the ring as your eyes were solely focused on the cute puppy in front of you and pressing kisses to nanami’s face. till the puppy’s collar scratched you that you realize the ring attached. and now you sit on the wooden bench on a bright sunny morning watching as the clouds shift and nanami plays with bubbles in the park.

your eyes shift down to the ring wrapped in your finger feeling your lips lift up as you think about the man who gave it to you. you actually met nanami in the spring which makes it your favorite season. It was the season when everything changed and became new. The season brought warm smiles and the blossoming of a young love. Shared laughs were loudly passed between nights spent under the glowing lights and falling flowers. he held your held on your strolls through the park as you spoke of your future and what you want in life. spring held a special place in your heart as it was the season you fell in love with the simple blonde man who loved soft sweets and bread fresh from the bakery.

“dear are you alright ?” nanami’s voice broke you out of your trance as he stood next to you with bubbles laying quietly in the ground near your feet. you shake your head and scratch bubbles head as your heart warms thinking about how magical the rest of your life will be.

“I’m alright. Just thinking about how special spring is,” you reflect as nanami sits next to you with an hand on your back.

“spring is very special dear. it’s the season of new and life growing. it’s also the season I fell in love with you. the season my life changed for the better.”

tears prick your eyes as you shift your body to face his shining face. he wore his sunglasses today as the sun shined brightly on his face but you could still see his hazel eyes looking lovingly into yours. your heart bursts with warmth as a smile spreads across his lips with his hand grabbing your left that had the small green emerald on a silver band placing a peck on the ring.

“are you ready for the rest of spring love ?”

“more than you know. maybe next spring we will have one more to join our favorite season.”

spring was truly your favorite.

summer with nanami are spent taking all the vacations that you worked overtime for to get that PTO. it was also time for nanami to get the rest that he deserved. he had been working overtime that he hated in order to take the summer off to prepare for the new joy coming into your world in the next few months. You were barely showing but Nanami loved to see you show on your bump in the bikini that he chose for you. Showed everyone that you were his and that your family had finally begun. the family he thought he would never get. not until he met you. he knew as soon as he met you that he wanted everything he swore that he never wanted. a house full of little running feet and a dog who chews on everything. the little ones looking mostly like you since you hold all the beauty and have your sense of heart. he couldn’t wait to meet them.

this was also the time for the perfect image of a sunset wedding. you both decided to go off on your own and wed with no worries about anyone else. That’s what summers were for. They are for having no worries about the world around. Nanami didn’t care about a grand ceremony or reception unless it was something you wanted. But you both knew in your heart that this moment together finally joining the two of you together was just meant for you and Nanami.

“my love can you bring the sunscreen?” you ask nanami drawing him out of his mindless thoughts.

“Of course dear. Do you want some on your back?”

“Yes please!”

you lean forward on your towel as Nanami sits behind you. He presses a small kiss to your nape which makes you giggle before he squirts of sunscreen on your back.

You both bask in the silence as you listen to waves crash loudly on to the shore and the children giggling loudly in the background. your eyes shift over to them as your watch a small boy and his father build a sand castle together and another small boy and his mother build another right beside.

“You know that will be us someday, right? We will take them here every summer as pass down our memories and stories to them,” Nanami says quietly as he continues to rub on your back eventually rubbing some on your swollen stomach as his arms wrap around.

you sigh happily, “ I can’t wait to show them our favorite ice cream place! They are definitely going to think my flavor is the best! Oh! And show them how to find shark teeth!”

Nanami laughs loudly and he has you lean back on to him so he can spread more lotion.

“ of course dear but i will have you know they will think my flavor is the best.”

You gasp, “ they will not ! Orange sickle is the best for the summer not mint chocolate chip.”

He laughs more as his hands began to tickle your sides which causes small giggles to fly out of you. the sand between your toes begin to shake you squirm on the towel from nanami’s fingers.

summers are for warm memories and sound of silence as every worry slips away into the ocean and wind.

fall with nanami are spent pulling out the thick sweaters and autumn decor that was stored in the upstairs closet.

you brought in the fall spices as you both brought in the bags from the multiple stores that you dragged Nanami to. not that he would ever complain. his hands were going to be sore tomorrow but he could never say no to a smile like yours. he also knew these next couple of months were going to be difficult as your belly has gotten bigger almost making it harder for you to get comfortable. he would do anything to make sure these next couple weeks were easy for you he didn’t want you to feel one ounce of stress to hit your body. he set all the bags down on the floor as you rambled about all the new things you brought for the little one growing in you. Nanami leaned slowly against the counter as he stared at the way your smile reached the corner of your eyes. The way your nose scrunched as you remembered a moment that you weren’t fond of but was slowly washed away as you pulled out more from the bags surrounding you.

“ken, do you think we bought too much? what is we wasted money buying all this?” you asked loudly placing your hands on the apple of your cheeks.

Nanami slowly moved beside you and wrapped his arm around your waist. he rubbed small circles on your stomach as you leaned your head back on his shoulder. pressing a small kiss to your temple, Nanami could feel your shoulder relax with a loud breath leaving your lungs as he rounded his hands under your stomach to relieve your back of some weight.

“don’t worry about that dear. we will save it for the other ones,” he whispers mockingly in your ear. Your eyes widen with you head snapping toward his. He let out a chuckles watching the small line between your brows deepen.

“Ken! We haven’t had this one yet and you’re already thinking of more ?!” You explain softly to him.

he hums and continues holding onto your stomach as he feels your soft skin under his fingertips. he loved the feeling of his skin touching yours, especially like this. He could feel the warmth of your skin as it held your bundle of joy the one person he would love as much as he loved you. he smiled into your neck and moved his hand on top of yours as they lay on your stomach. he could feel the little one move below your hands as his heart warmed at the feeling that was swarming his body. nothing could prepare him for the love that grew every day for you and the one he hasn’t even met yet. He didn’t think he could love you more but here he was falling more and more in love with you as every day passed.

“of course dear. nothing I would want more than to spend the rest of our lives together, growing a little family, and seeing you till you have grays in your hair. I have always wanted at least two but whatever you are comfortable with dear. Just want to show our love through a little family,” he whispers into your ear.

you sniffle as you think about the multiple feet pattering around the kitchen as you make pumpkin pancakes and let the kids play with the leaves. as Nanami begins bringing out the coats and help you decorate for Halloween. fall is time for slow, emotional moments that plant in your mind till the winter brings on the past, soulful moments.

“I want that too!” You cry loudly as your turn and sob into nanami’s shoulder. He chuckles and pats the back of your head. He smiles into your hair and he thanks his lucky stars that he met you that spring morning on the way to his favorite bakery. Then falling in love with you as summer began to blister down with fall bringing you two closer as he brought you more into his home with you making your way into his heart. by winter you were in his home adding your love into each corner on the walls till it was filled with enough that is could burst.

this winter a new session of seasons with come and go but the love will stay and grow even as the ground grows cold. you and Nanami will never grow cold as long as the fire in your heart burns like the amber that burns in the fireplace every winter.

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!

#♥︎ taywrites #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #jjk drabble #nanami x reader

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bbybhr · 11 hours ago

Text

What i enjoy

Summary:just old man logan finding comfort in an ordinary day with you and Laura...simply enjoying loving you

Warning: none really,

Tag: angst , comfort , domestic life

Oldman!logan who came home after a normal day at work, nothing out of ordinary the only remarkable thing about today was the cold weather but he got used to that so there's no mentioning it...after all he was two hundred years old and he learned what to expect from winter when he was a little boy,he's not thrilled about it though,he despise cold like a lot of other things

He puts the key into the keyhole and the click sound echoes in his heart...he loves to return home, one of the few things that he enjoys

He knocks of his dirty shoes and leans to pickup his "slippers" which you bought for him and Laura to match yours, of course he showed his protest by grunting and telling you "his way too old for this" or "what even is the purpose of this things?" But he secretly loves them...the feeling of having something on him that belongs to your soft little world, the feeling of reassurance that if someone sees you and him together it wouldn't be like he's some horror movies character that got into a frame of an animation about sugar and honey and bunny and yada yada...but it would be like a happy little family,so slippers also are some of the few things he enjoys

As he slowly approaches the living room he hears you and Laura giggling, he stops at the foyer looking at you two and the thick blanket you got on yourselves, he can not wait to get under that too, to hold you both close to him,to feels his two heart that aren't inside of his body but are far more important, he rather claw at his own chest and take that clock machine out than seeing you two sad or even at the very least a little discomfort, and yes he loves to be a part of that cuddle blanket city of his two princess but he also loves watching you laughing and stuffing your faces with popcorn...so he waits, waiting between two of his favourite activities is also one of the few things he enjoys

He takes the warm air of the house in his lounges with a deep breath,there's a delicious smell of food that you made and you and Laura agreed to don't touch it until logan comes home from work,he can feel his stomach turn in hunger for something other than his cheap liquor,for something that doesn't burn his throat but nourishes his stomach and heart at the same time...coming home to a warm meal is again one of the few thing he enjoys

He feels the warmth of the house cuddle his weary bones and body...His shoulders slowly tens down and he can feel a small smile on his face before pushing himself from the foyer and making his way towards the couch

"I'm watching you two for at least thirty minutes now, what if I was an intruder?do you have any survival sense?"

You and Laura jump from the surprise...it's the safety that a home and family brings after all,that's the reason Laura isn't as alert as she used to and logan doesn't feel upset about this, it brings out the fact that you two (and anyone else in the area) are sure that no one dares to disturb the safety and stillness of THE WOLVERINE'S House and he enjoys the reminder of the safety that his protection brings

It's after the dinner when Laura and you fell asleep in his arms while watching a fairytale bullshit, he closes his eyes and the golden light of the house shuts up before them,he can stay like this forever,he thinks...having his whole beautiful family is another thing he absolutely enjoys

but he knows you'll feel sore tomorrow you don't have the strong regenerate power as him and Laura, so he slowly gets up,with a delicacy and thoughtfulness he never thought he had in him so he wouldn't wake you two up,he turned off the TV before scooping up Laura and carrying her to her room and laying the puffy blanket on her (being a father is one of the things he never thought he would enjoy but now he can not figure out that how would life be without laura) than he makes his way to the living room again, he kneels beside the couch like a surrounded soldier and slowly Brings his hand to your face and brushes a strand of your hair with the tip of his finger like he's touching something sacred,he won't move his hand afterwards from your face just caressing your cheek at a gradual peace, how delicate, he thinks, how could you trust him with yourself, how could someone this fragile trust herself with a war machine...with a weapon...touching you with his blood stained hand is also one of his favourite thing to do

He picks you up in his arms without moving his gaze from your face like not looking at you even for a second it's a waste of time,beside he memorised the path to your room a long time ago so there's no point to look away anyway,

To know every path that ends to you is also one of the things he enjoy

He lays you on your bed with so much care like you would break if he doesn't treat you like a butterfly with fractured wings,he climbs on and lay behind you,one hand under his head so he could look at all of you with one glance,like a hunter looking at it's prey like he's sizing you up for his next meal,after a moment he wrap his other hand around your waist to pull you closer as if you're not close enough, never close enough actually, he wanted you under his skin if he could! he takes a deep breath in your hair and felt that familiar rush in his veins (that got to him since he got home) grow stronger,one more breath and his breath became shaky and his vision of the top of your hair became blurry,another inhale and he's taking shallow and rapid breath yet he's trying for dear life to be quiet, taking your scents one more time and he felt his cheeks became wet and something in his throat brook...that wall that he felt stronger in the moment of weakness,that brick fucking wall that made his breath hitch when he was alone when he didn't have you nor Laura, that very same wall that he tried every day to drink away...Well how do you know...looks like his chatter box doll with those beautiful eyes was the cure all the time...

"Where were you..."

He said under his breath more like how breeze whispers in the ear of a petal while passing by and he closed his eyes to surprisingly no nightmare...no feeling trapped...just the scent of your hair and your quiet little breath

There's few things that he finds interesting...lesser things he finds enjoyable...but they're all about you!

#old man logan #comfort #logan #logan howlet x reader #logan x reader #logan wolverine #logan howlett #james howlett #angst #wolverine x reader #wolverine #logan james howlett #let me cry #give this man a hug #heal him pleas

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bring-forth-his-sac · 3 days ago

Text

The Christmas Party - Chapter 3

Summary: Now that you have a party to plan, you decide to start with the decorations... but Negan has a more exciting idea in mind.

Word Count: 5.2k

Tags: Modern AU, Teacher AU, Swearing, Pet Names, Slow Burn, Negan being an asshole, reader being an asshole too ?

previous chapter can be found here

After your vow to stay resolute in your (accidental) decision to help with the Christmas party, you vanished on Negan. He half-expected you to ambush him first thing the next morning but nothing came.

In a perfect world, you would have gone home that day, realized your pettiness and followed Negan’s original advice. You would have humbled yourself and gone straight to Gregory, petitioning for this pain in the ass party to be called off.

“Carl! That funky eye of yours doesn’t mean your legs don’t work!” Negan shouts at one of the students in his afternoon class “Run for the ball, damn it! Quit standing on the sidelines!”.

The whistle around Negan’s neck swings as he struts along the side of the basketball court, muttering to himself. Despite the chill in the air, it’s sunny outside and so they’re not all stuck inside the sports hall, where Negan would’ve been trapped in the thick air of sweaty, hormonal teens.

But that’s not the only reason he’s glad to be outside on the courts. After Negan’s plan backfired and filled you with spiteful devotion to the Christmas party, he can’t bear to be in the sports hall, knowing it’s only a matter of time before his colleagues wreck havoc on his little slice of heaven.

A polite cough behind him pulls him out of his thoughts. Negan is about to grumble to some kid to cover their mouth but when he glances behind, he sees you instead.

“Fan- fucking -tastic,” Negan says drily “my day has just got ten times better”.

The sight of a notebook pressed against your chest makes him want to groan. Hoping for some kind of a miracle, he asks “You get the party cancelled yet?”.

You join him by the sidelines, smiling mischievously. “Nope,” you reply cheerfully “I think I’d rather torture you by making you help organize it instead”.

Negan scoffs, looking back at the game. You take it as your que to continue. Looking down at your notebook you read the small list you’ve made of the different categories you’ll both have to tackle.

Food. Drink. Music. Decorations.

You read your small list out loud before thinking “Is there anything else a party needs? I guess we could have some kinda entertainment, right?”.

With a long exhale, Negan rubs his forehead “You want a bunch of middle aged teachers to play party games?”.

You shrug “Well, I don’t know how else to keep them entertained…”

“Booze. That’s all you need, not charades or pin the tail on the donkey”.

You write that down, encircling the drinks category before continuing “Well, I’m free for the rest of the day so whenever you want to—“.

“Christ, Patrick! Follow through on your shot!” Negan interrupts, yelling at another poor kid “better fix that limp wrist for your sake!”.

You blink at the… uh… advice, if you could call it that.

Negan begins making his way down the side of the court, following the action surrounding the basketball as he shouts more words of wisdom. You watch with a mix of curiosity and disbelief, suddenly feeling more confident in your own, calmer teaching style.

When Negan finally turns his attention back to you, he raises an eyebrow, his tone turning sarcastic again.

"Class ends in about ten minutes. How about we talk afterwards, so you're not following me around like a damn shadow?" he sighs, checking his watch.

Before you can retort your own thinly veiled insult, he’s off shouting at the kids again, this time clapping his arms to really amp them up.

You shake your head, grip tightening on your notebook as you turn on your heels to leave. Your plan was to just wait in his office but once you get to the door, your eyes are drawn to the adjacent double doors of the sports hall.

If this is where you’ll be having the party, you may as well get a lay of the land now.

Creeping inside the barren hall, it’s the quietest you’ve ever seen it. The large room is almost eerie without the clatter of basketballs or the sounds of kids shouting. You pause in the doorway, taking in the empty space. Soon, it’ll be filled with noise— this time, for the Christmas party you’ve roped yourself into.

Walking deeper into the room, you wonder how much convincing it’ll take to get Negan up on a ladder to hang tinsel and string lights across the high ceiling. The hall is desperate for some holiday ambience and your brain aches as you try to figure out just how much tinsel will be needed.

Thankfully, your phone buzzes with a welcome distraction.

Carol: You want to be a good samaritan and help me bake some cookies after school? Need them for the bake sale

You: Have my hands full planning party

You: but I could be tempted if I get to taste test some :D

After you informed everyone that you will be planning the party (and to hold off on the barrage of questions), Carol was the only one who didn’t give you a pitiful look when you mentioned it being you and Negan organizing it.

“Negan’s… complicated,” she told you this morning. Surprisingly, that was the most polite description of him you’ve heard.

“Just keep your distance, keep your head down and do the work” Carol listed “he’ll complain a lot but he will get the job done. Eventually”.

Given how much people seem to dislike him, hearing a neutral take felt like a welcome shift.

Carol: you’re starting to sound like my students

You let out a soft laugh before quickly typing a reply, letting her know you’re not sure if you’ll be finished with Negan by then. As much as you hate to admit it, you know how easily you two can fall into a back-and-forth, letting the time slip away without even realizing it.

Carol replies with a thumbs up, and to kill some time, you check the group chat. It’s been a while since you’ve looked at the new messages.

You don’t blame yourself though, not when it’s where you got yourself into this mess. It’s like returning to the scene of a crime but this time you know better than to hurriedly send in a text.

Gregory: WHO GOT THE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS INSTALLATION VAN CLAMPED

Gregory: HOW? WHY?????

Sasha: I told you they shouldn’t park in designated spaces

Rosita: they had their warning

Gregory: they want to school to pay the fee

Sasha: better than slashed tires

Gregory: go to principal Grime’s office , this needs to be sorted now

Rosita: I’m in the middle of teaching a class ??

Gregory: and you’re busy texting?!?!?!?

Gregory: both of you. Principal Grime’s office. NOW

A chuckle from behind makes you shiver and jerk away, hot breath fanning against the side of your neck. Negan peers over at your phone, having read the messages.

“I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation” he snorts, offering you a smirk as you tuck your phone away “can’t say I blame Rosita though, Gregory’s definitely the type of asshat that let them park there”.

“Yeah and you wanted me to talk to that asshat about getting this party cancelled” you grumble, irritation creeping into your tone

“In the past, sweetness,” Negan smiles just to annoy you “now we’re a team, ain’t we?”.

“In the past?! Negan, that was yesterday!” you point out exasperatedly, wandering around the hall to burn off some of your already pent up energy.

“And yesterday is in the past”.

You shoot him a glare but all that achieves is a wider grin looking back at you. Damn him. You run a hand down your face, forcing yourself to stop— both physically and mentally.

Negan’s trying to get you to bite, to start bickering with him so you’ll lose focus on the party and storm off. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to gather yourself. Unfortunately, when you open them again he still has that cocky smile on his face that makes you want to throttle him.

“Do you have any decorations from the previous years?” Your tone is sharper than necessary but that’s what he gets when he’s being a jerk.

“Usually, they’d host this shit at a fancy little place called the Kingdom, so we don’t have much” he replies, his demeanor easing now that you haven’t taken the bait.

“Really?” you question, expecting at least a worn down Christmas tree “What about things for a nativity or Christmas carols?”.

“Yeah cause nothing screams party like having the fuckin’ nativity scene laid out in the middle of the room” Negan teases, fishing keys out of the back pocket of his sweatpants.

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you match his sarcasm with a dose of your own “Well, no, I’m not suggesting we all get drunk in front of baby Jesus”.

Negan lets out a small chuckle, but it sounds unfamiliar. This isn’t the mischievous laugh you heard when he tried to set you up, nor is it the smirk he gave you when you were badmouthing him.

No, this is something else. It’s a rare, genuine sound– a laugh that seems to catch even him off guard. And strangely enough, it’s aimed at you. You try not to linger on it, not wanting to make things awkward.

“If you wanna have a look yourself, knock yourself out” Negan strides over to the small storage room door and you follow behind as he unlocks it.

You stand there, waiting for him to open it but he doesn’t. Instead, Negan pauses for a moment, then he turns to face you with that familiar, smug grin.

“Enjoying the view?” he teases, letting the question hang in the air.

“I— ugh! Negan!” you scold, stepping forward and pushing the door open yourself. Negan doesn’t stop you, even flicking the light on as you go first.

“Careful, sweetheart,” Negan says, grabbing one of the boxes to prop the door open. “This shit’s old... probably as old as me, so the door’s heavy and a real bastard to yank open from the inside”.

Inside, you’re met with a chaotic mess; boxes piled on top of boxes, cones and rackets scattered across the floor, and a jumble of balls stacked on a rack against the wall.

Technically, the room is large but with all the clutter, there’s barely enough space to move around. Inching your way across a small clearing, you almost wedge yourself between two tall stacks of boxes. “Any idea which ones might have the festive goods?” you ask.

“Pretty sure it’s the two at the back,” Negan trails after you, clearly uninterested “y’can usually see a bit of tinsel shimmering through the box”.

“This is a good start… I guess,” you try to take an optimistic approach “at least there’s something here”.

You carefully navigate through the maze of clutter, sidestepping loose javelins and dodging stray tennis balls. The mess makes every step feel like a mini obstacle course.

As you finally reach the last stack, you tug the lid off the nearest box, the dust tickling your nose. Peering inside, you slowly begin to sift through its contents—a jumble of tinsel, some baubles that have no string and a few random holiday knickknacks.

Negan leans against the next stack of boxes, arms crossed, watching you with mild amusement.

“Oh wow, you’re just going straight for it, huh?” he commentates, unbothered to help “it’s like you’re on a treasure hunt… y’know if you want to find the real treasure, you’re in luck”.

You don’t bite, not believing his bullshit. Even with no response, Negan continues “I know exactly where to find the crown jewels”. He gives you a wink but you miss it, keeping your head down as you rummage.

”… hellllllloooooo?” he pokes your side.

You pull out a handful of mismatched ornaments and toss them at him. “Maybe you should stop doing nothing and actually help?” you suggest as he barely manages to catch them.

With an exaggerated sigh, Negan starts to search the second box. “I was doing something,” he protests, carelessly looking through the box “flirting, if you didn’t notice”.

“Yeah, well if that’s your idea of flirting, I pray I’m not your type” you jeer.

This time, Negan doesn’t reply. You wonder if he’s taking a page out of your book and ignoring you but then you feel his eyes land on you.

Readying your disapproving look, you turn to meet Negan’s gaze. “What?” you ask, already annoyed by whatever shenanigan he’s about to pull.

With the ghost of a smirk, Negan simply stares at you for a moment. He doesn’t let his eyes wander like how you expected, the action something you thought he’d do just to get a rise out of you. Wetting his lips, Negan teasingly pulls his hand out of the box, bringing with it a tattered piece of mistletoe.

“Guess there’s only one way to find out if you’re my type” he shakes the mistletoe, accidentally making one of the plastic leaves fall off.

“Oh fuck off” you don’t stop the words coming out of your mouth, turning on your heels to leave.

Flinging the mistletoe back into the box, Negan follows. You’re half tempted to kick the box that’s keeping the door open just to lock him in, but his long strides allow him to catch up with you in no time.

“Awh, c’mon,” he teases “are you always in ‘teacher mode’ ?”.

“Only when I’m around immature people”.

“Very funny,” Negan comments as you storm back out to the empty hall. He can tell he’s almost got you; you’re so close to walking out, yet you won’t give him the satisfaction.

Negan knows how to push people’s buttons— it's one of his favorite hobbies. He enjoys testing how much people will tolerate, seeing what it takes to crack them. For some, a single remark is enough to make them fold, while others can take a whole barrage, letting it build up bit by bit.

The most frustrating thing about you is that you can take a lot, all while throwing your own taunts right back at him. You rub your forehead, trying to will yourself into not punching him.

“You got any classes left today?” he breaks the silence, his tone surprisingly conversational considering the amount of teasing he’s been doing.

Every question feels like a set up for some next lewd joke or suggestion and so you simply nod your head.

“Perfect,” he says, locking up the storage room and tossing the keys up into the air before catching them “let’s go grab some new decorations”.

You raise an eyebrow, curious, but Negan doesn’t wait around. As he strolls out of the hall, you have to quicken your pace to keep up with him.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He glances over his shoulder, speaking to you as if you’re a three year old. “we go shop, buy new decorations, you happy, party less shit looking”.

“But don’t you have classes?” you badger him, watching as Negan makes a quick stop by his office. He drops the keys onto his desk, grabs his coat, and snatches up his car keys.

“Yeah, but Mark can cover for me,” he replies casually, clearly unfazed “it’s the bastard’s last day before his vacation, he can do some extra work”.

The last thing you expected was for Negan to suggest going on a quick trip together, especially with how little you two can tolerate each other. Negan lets out a short laugh when he sees your wary expression, clearly unconcerned.

“He’ll figure it out,” he says nonchalantly, pulling out his phone to shoot a quick text to the other coach “it’ll be fine as long as he doesn’t give Fat Joey my class, don’t trust that fucker to teach gym”.

“Negan!” you slap his arm “Rude”.

He shrugs.

The two of you walk out of the school and head toward the teacher’s parking lot. As you look around, a wave of hesitation hits you.

Even though you don’t have any more classes to teach today, you can’t shake the feeling that leaving early feels like you’re playing hooky.

Negan notices in an instant. With a small chuckle, he places both hands on your shoulders and gives you a gentle nudge forward.

“C’mon, Ms. Goody Two Shoes,” he teases, steering you toward his pick up truck “we won’t be gone long”.

You hesitate for a moment, still unsure. “Are you sure?” you try to look up at him as he directs you toward the passenger side “I don’t mind driving myself and meeting you there”.

“No need. I’ve got it covered,” he replies, taking his hands off you to open the door. With the automatic roll of your eyes, you get in.

The car ride to the store is a mix of awkward tension and playful banter. As Negan drives, he leans back in his seat with an easy confidence. Every now and then, he throws in a flirtatious comment but for the most part, he keeps it PG.

Surprisingly, Negan actually asked about you and why you’d move to “such a backend fuckin’ town”. You grabbed the opportunity to not argue or get flirted with and instead babbled on about why you needed a break away from your hometown (making sure to skip all the family rifts and drama).

Pulling into the Target parking lot, the familiar smirk of the Negan you know resurfaces.

"I can always make time to give ya a real tour of the town," he says, and for a brief moment, you almost believe he's being sincere—until he adds, "With or without the extra stop at mine afterwards."

You let out an exaggerated sigh as he parks, shaking your head. "You're like a comedian that only knows one joke and no matter how many times it falls flat, you just keep saying it anyways".

Negan’s eyebrows bounce up as his truck comes to a stop, his tone dripping with cockiness “Oh it works real well, 99.9% success rate”.

“Wow, you’re just like bleach” you shoot back as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

Getting out of the truck and heading into the store, he proudly replies “All I have to say is I have been told I’m killer in the bedroom, so maybe I am like bleach”.

Shaking your head, you opt for a small basket instead of dragging around a massive cart. The last thing you need is Negan laughing as you struggle to control one of those things.

“Do you have an off switch?” You taunt.

Taking the basket off you, Negan’s fingers brush yours. He takes full advantage, tilting to the side so his tall frame is closer to your eye level.

Lowering his voice to what you can only assume is what he uses in the bedroom, he seductively growls “Wanna try to find it?”.

The look you give him says everything, and with a sharp ‘hmph ,’ you head toward the holiday section, letting him trail behind.

As you pass the Christmas trees, you glance at them, already knowing you’ll need to check your budget before committing to one for the party. This trip feels more like a reconnaissance mission—just picking up a few affordable things if you find them while scouting what else they have to offer.

Meanwhile, Negan simply drifts by, clearly bored now that the playful banter has faded. He’s like a kid that’s been dragged into grocery shopping with his mom—picking up random items and staring at the ceiling, hoping for some kind of entertainment.

Negan would’ve spent his time staring at your ass but he knows better than to risk it. You’d throw a nutcracker at him if you caught him perving on you.

“ Neeeeeeegan ?” You drag out his name, watching the man completely zone out.

As much as you want to give him a piece of your mind, you can’t say you’re surprised. You both knew this was going to be a pain.

The only reason you’re party planning is out of spite, while Negan’s just here because he doesn’t want his sports hall to be trashed by either terrible decorations or the teachers on the night.

Shaking the wreath in your hands, the bells jingle and you call out again “Negan? Hello?”.

Looking back to you, his expression softens just enough to pass as a real smile rather than a smirk. “I heard you the first time, I just like hearing you say my name,” he says, his tone playful.

You scoff, fighting the urge to smile. Unfortunately, you’re human so when a handsome man throws you a compliment, it’s impossible not to react, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he can be.

… handsome ?

You quickly shove that thought aside, irritated that your brain so easily confessed that. He is handsome, but… he’s Negan. An asshole, in other words.

Alright, time to stop thinking about that.

“I, uh…” you swallow, trying to get your thoughts in order “The wreath! If we drape a tablecloth over the desks and put one of these in front of each, that’ll look nice, right?”

Negan gives a casual nod, eyes shifting between the wreath and the rows of holiday decorations.

“I mean, the desks are just for finger food and drinks anyways but… it’ll be festive!” you find yourself rambling, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

He scoffs at how you try to justify spending some money a on wreath, taking a few steps toward the sales section.

“How about…” Negan starts, picking up a small pumpkin statue priced at just a dollar, “…we buy a bunch of these and throw a Christmas hat on ‘em?”

You pause, unsure whether you should dignify that with a response.

“You want to use Halloween decorations?” you drop the wreath into the basket, rubbing a hand over your face in disbelief.

“I’m getting it” he puts the pumpkin next to your wreath.

You look down at the pumpkin and purse your lips. As if this party hasn’t been doomed from the get go, you don’t think having pumpkins there will help. You don’t have to voice your concerns, Negan can read your face.

“Hey, I’m just offering a little direction,” he says, wandering down the aisle “someone’s gotta take charge when you’re doubting whether you should buy wreaths for a Christmas party”.

A flutter of defensiveness stirs within you, a shift in your chest that spreads like a warm yet uncomfortable pressure.

Picking up a box of lights, you drop them in the basket “I’m not doubting, I just don’t want to buy junk that we won’t use”.

Negan stops, ignoring what you just said as he picks up some balloons. “We should get these… just gotta make sure this side is at the back” he lifts up the packet, showing you the gigantic ‘Happy 60th Birthday’ printing on the front of each balloon.

“You’re kidding,” plucking the pack out of his hands, you put it back on the shelf “and I don’t need you to take charge of this, especially when you’re doing such a half assed job”.

Negan scoffs “Am not”.

The more you try to ignore the building in your chest, the more it festers, growing into a quiet but insistent urge to clarify, to defend and correct the narrative.

“That’s all you do! You want to be in charge but you’re not thorough enough whenever you are” you explain as calmly as you can.

There was a small bit of you that hoped Negan would listen to what you’re saying but he’s not interested in the feedback, waving his free hand dismissively as he walks back up the aisle.

“It’s easier when I’m in charge because I get shit done, I don’t try to reason with myself why I need to buy something– I just do it,” as if to prove the point, he puts another pumpkin into the basket.

It's like he’s not even trying to understand your point, and that’s a realization that makes your patience unravel.

The calm concern starts to fade and is replaced by a barely contained annoyance.

“But you don’t try to make things easier for others, you literally just left Mark to deal with the rest of your classes for the day and complained at the idea of Mark letting Joey help! You’re always pushing your own agenda and railroading people into going along with it” taking a firm stance against him, you do the unthinkable.

You reach your hand into the basket.

And remove a pumpkin.

Negan gives you a pointed look, boring into your skull and not even watching your hand place the pumpkin back on the shelf.

“Sweetheart, calm down, this isn’t a military operation,” he asserts “we’re just planning a damn party so lighten up. Get festive!”.

It’s maddening. Now you’re making a mountain out of a molehill? You should just lighten up because it’s a Christmas party and nothing more?

His dismissive tone is like a constant poke to your patience, stretching it thinner with every passing moment. To make matters worse, Negan carries on like usual, wandering over to the next aisle.

Begrudgingly, you totter after him.

“You can’t just do that!” you snap, absentmindedly perusing the scented candles “you can’t act like this is something silly when I’m giving you valid criticism! I’m trying to put in effort here and actually make this party bearable”.

It hits all at once, a rush of raw emotion that floods your mind and spills out before you can stop it.

Your voice shakes, not from fear, but from the overwhelming need to be heard. You don’t even have time to think, to carefully choose your words; it all comes out, unfiltered.

Every bit of irritation, confusion, and disbelief tumbling out in one breathless rant.

“All you want to do is skip school, wander around here, flirt with me– even though I keep rejecting you! And just buy stupid shit that we don’t need for this party!” you rant, gesturing to the lonely pumpkin still in the basket.

“You have to respect other people’s time and their effort too. Not everyone wants to half-ass this! You get your own way all the time and no one will say no to you or make you do it their way. It’s Negan’s way or no way. And people are so used to letting you get away with shit again and again just because—“.

You stop yourself.

Your mouth clamps shut, stopping your cathartic rant before it can say anymore but it’s too late. Negan stands next to you, waiting.

Shit.

“… I like the cinnamon one,” you say quietly, trying to change the subject as you sniff the candles “sometimes, I think they make the gingerbread ones too strong and the ones that are supposed to smell like vanilla never do”.

Negan doesn’t budge. A small smirk creeps up on his face. Negan already knows what you were going to say, he doesn’t need anyone to tell him.

He’s attractive, good in the sac, can charm the legs off anyone within a ten mile radius and happens to have one swoon worthy smile.

He gets away with this because he’s sexy. Nothing he can do about that, it’s natural!

“Go on,” he implores, tongue peeking out as he wets his bottom lip “say it with your chest, doll”.

You want to stay quiet. You know for the interest of everyone, you should.

“People let you be an asshole because your wife died”.

You’ve never seen a change in someone so quick. His face darkens, veins pulsing at his temples as his jaw clenches so tight that his teeth almost grind together.

Negan’s eyes narrow into a hard, unforgiving stare. Every muscle in his body seems to coil, as if ready to snap.

“Are you fucking shitting me?” he grunts.

You’ve never seen him like this— not even when you’ve bickered with him. This is something different, something deeper.

His entire demeanor has shifted, like a switch was flipped, and all the previous irritation and taunting have been replaced by a quiet, seething fury that radiates from him in waves.

Your fingers curl around the candle but you barely register the sensation. Your eyes lock on him, wide and unblinking. He told you to say it, to be honest with him.

Every muscle in your body feels frozen, as if something inside you has short-circuited. You’ve always thought you’d know what you’d do in a moment like this, whether you’d be a flight or fight type of person. But now, facing a full wave of intimidation, you realize the truth: you’re not the fight type. You’re not the flight type.

You’re the freeze type.

It’s as if the air around you has thickened, the space between you and him narrowing to a suffocating stillness. You want to stutter out an apology but it’s all happened so suddenly that you forget how to.

It feels like all you can do is stand there, rooted to the spot. In an instant, he snaps out of his silent rage and rushes into action.

Without warning, Negan lets go of the shopping basket, letting it drop to the ground with a violent clatter. The sound cuts through the air like a gunshot and you jump.

His hands are still clenched into fists as he takes a step back and his eyes flash one last time at you with an unreadable mix of frustration and something deeper. And then, he spins on his heel and storms off.

“Fuck this,” you hear muttered under his breath as he goes.

You’re left standing there, the abruptness of it all taking the air from your lungs. Your legs take jittery steps forward before you meekly grab the basket and try to follow.

With only a pumpkin, some lights and a wreath inside, the basket somehow pulls at your arms, as if you’re carrying a thousand things. Trying to follow, the basket swings awkwardly in your grasp, banging against your shins with each uncoordinated step.

“Negan?” You call out, your voice sounding smaller than you mean it to. Your gaze darts nervously from aisle to aisle and across the registers until you spot a tall and imposing shadow going out the main doors.

“No, no, no, no, no,” your heart thuds painfully against your chest, each beat louder than the last.

You set the basket down gently, almost afraid it might shatter if you move too quickly, before rushing out of the store. The cool air hits your skin, but it’s no relief. This can’t be happening. He can’t just leave you here. Not like this.

You move fast, almost stumbling, your eyes scanning the parking lot frantically. Cars of every make and model line the pavement, but there’s no sign of his truck.

A pang of panic rises in your throat as you take a few more steps, searching the sea of vehicles, your stomach tightening with every second that passes. His truck should be here. It should’ve been parked right where you left it.

The realization hits you like a wave. It’s not here.

A soft whine escapes your lips, barely a sound and yet it carries the weight of everything that’s suffocating you in that moment. Confusion. Anxiety. Guilt. And an overwhelming sense of abandonment. You stand frozen, the noise of the parking lot fading as the panic surges again.

He’s gone.

-------

gif made from scenepack provided by harleys.scenes on insta <3

#negan fanfiction #negan smith fanfiction #negan x reader #negan x you #twd negan #negan #negan smith #negan twd #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #jdm x reader #the walking dead negan #negan imagine #negan smith x you #negan smith x female reader #twd fanfiction #twd #twd x reader #negan the walking dead

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didnt-hear-idsb-live-again · 2 days ago

Text

it's the 21st of December, and now they really are ringing the last bells.

December 22, 2018, the first day of what seems like Act II of my life, feels like a world and a daydream away.

it was the morning I woke up next to you for the first time, and hangover aside, I had a thousand things jumbling around in my brain - which would, very quickly, morph into a thousand more: will I ever see you again? what could things be if I do? is everyone outside of my emotionally abusive ex as wonderful as you? was it this simple all along? was I just lucky to find you? how can I just never see you again? what if I did? what if what country I lived in didn't render this all moot? If I come back, how am I supposed to leave? what hope exists for me in the world if not a fantasy about a man and a country I can't have? when can I go back? what would a life look like if I lived there? why isn't it that simple? do you ever think about me? do I matter to you at all? you changed my life but do you even care I'm alive, after all you are to me? what would happen if I ever saw you again?

will I ever in my life return to find out?

It is December 21, 2024, and, I am pleased to say, I have answered every single one of those questions. I have found every answer, and found all the new questions that stem out of them. I have answered them all, and I have pulled threads and spun webs from them into oblivion. I don't have all the answers in life, and I have a lot of new problems and questions that stemmed out of living in Australia for a year and then leaving. But I do have all the answers to all of the questions you could ever, and will ever, exist at the center of.

This year, I lived a long-forgotten dream; one thats floated around my heart since 2007, that was half-heartedly tried and abandoned in 2016, that I brushed with in 2018. One that you had been re-sparking and lighting the fire of ever since. It's a dream I would've never come any closer to than an uneventful 2 month vacation, if not for the kindness you showed me, and the emotions you lit under me as a result, 6 years ago.

This year, I walked by the steps of the Victoria State Library more times than I can count. I traced back the walk to your house, your old address burned into my mind forever, and I stared at your yard, paved over and with all the love and life it once contained from your friend group and your housemates, extinguished with cold pavement. I sat across from you in a coffee shop and fumbled over my words, a complete fool who is not good enough written over my every misstep, whether you noticed or not (I don't think you did). I walked the laneways you unknowingly changed my life on, a few steps behind you, as you recounted some of my favorite memories to a group of tourists who were seeing my favorite city for the first time, knowing smiles exchanged between us.

I saw everything flash before me, like it was a lifetime ago and like it was all happening again at 10000x speed within each of those moments.

I cradled the broken, scared, December 21, 2018 version of me as I did all of them, and I kept the December 21, 2019 version of me, who wrote the first post of many like this in a cold Brooklyn apartment - devoid of absolutely all hope in the world - fresh in my mind as I did all of those things. I cared for them both the way you would something you could crumble in the palm of your hand. Those versions of me never left, and I lived almost every precious moment I breathed in Melbourne in 2024 in service of them.

But I, and those versions of me, did more than that in Melbourne this year.

The city of you became my city, instead. I did walk 'Cornelia Street' again. A lot. And it stopped screaming your name. Now it screams Jack. Emily. Aya. Emma. Katie. Ruby. Jack. Logan. Taylah. Tim. Hannah. Juliana. Emelia. Rain. Maggie. Katie. Laura. Johnny. It screams Jungle Boy and skinny dipping in St Kilda Beach in the winter and it screams watching Disney movies with Emma and Josh and it screams walking barefoot down Flinders Street after the Eras Tour, and skipping down Fed Square in the moonlight after seeing Maisie Peters. It screams for dumplings in Emelia's very dirty apartment, going up to the roof and looking at the skyline. It screams the lyrics to Espresso and Karma and Too Sweet while we close up the bar. It screams of the coffee shop I frequented, and its white brick walls and the barista who knew me and the wildflowers in vases on each table. It screams of the taste of daiquiris and aged rum, of British accents and mornings with Jack in the South Yarra market. It screams of Aya's friendship and sitting on her couch, and The Eras Tour Movie and wine at Katie's house, in the same exact living room she hugged me while I cried over you 5 years prior.

I once, 5 years ago, cursed at the sky for the fact that I was a spec of dust on the windshield of your magnificent life; for the way I felt myself growing smaller and smaller on your horizon. I could feel it every second that passed, and it hurt. And alas, seeing you face to face again last October felt like the universe coming together to give me a gift, the kind of full-circle perfection I never even dared dream about, and shot down from anons on this blog for 5 straight years. A scene from a movie I never thought I might live to see. But that wasn't the end of the story. The end of the story was you, too, fading back on my horizon, and me filling the road up with light and life and color all my own. It shines like a type of gold that 2018 me never could have even imagined existed.

Your story is not the greatest story I will ever tell. It is not my favorite. The story I carved for myself in Melbourne in the past 365 days is my greatest. That is my favorite. And it's mine. Yours is just the origin story, and it exists to me like something out of Greek Mythology.

It is magnificent. And everything that will ever come after stems from you. But it has nothing to do with you anymore. You gave me the gift of a second chapter of my life; one where I wasn’t afraid of sex or men in general, and one where I fell in love with and yearned for your city. The rest is now on me to write and carry, and I’ve done it.

For those who have read these posts, every year, for the last 6 years, I thank you so deeply for being on this journey with me and for caring about me; for caring about this and my absurd emotions and the storybook of it that I have written myself into.

There's lots of analysis to be had and lots of essays and discussions of unpacking Australia itself for me, that I may well still do for the rest of my life.

But I do know that this is the post where we close his book. I once cried while driving across Brooklyn asking, "if the story's over, why am I still writing pages?" I see and hear it vividly in my mind still. I remember waiting at the same set traffic lights in Bed Stuy with tears streaming down my face like it was yesterday.

But now all the dots are connected, all the stones are unturned.

It’s funny and it’s ironic that How To Make Gravy by Paul Kelly, the song that mentions the date and was the soundtrack to December 21, 2018, lyrics of which had been the headlines of all these posts, is a tune about a phone call from a prison, where the narrator gets incredibly nostalgic (and a bit chaotic) about holidays past and future - I found myself embedded in this song, subconsciously or not: for many of these 6 years, America served as a prison for me, and I longed for Australia and the unwritten future I could have in it the way the narrator speaks about the future in the song; the gravy he swore to someday make again being my long fantasized return and the memories I left unhad. I didn’t think about it this literally, but I felt the rush of the correct emotions whenever I listened to it, and that was the reason why.

Well: I did it. I got outta there by July, and I made gravy. I made plenty.

Of December 21, 2018, there are no more pages to write. Only the folkloric legend of a man who gave a lost girl the hope and light and tools to, 6 years down the line, not only be well past the emotionally abusive relationship he healed her from, but to write and create something completely for herself, too.

I owe you to the end of everything for that, and I always will.

#see me in hindsight #this hits harder if last nights random spiral didn’t happen so if you saw that no you didn’t

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idontplaytrack · 3 days ago

Note

janis or regina x reader where no one (including their friend group) knew that they were dating. until one day reader gets injured at school somehow and they rush over to help her.

Take another step

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem! reader

Warnings: coarse language, some squabbling, fluff

A dodgeball to the head unravels a chaotic situation on a whole new level (I had too much fun with this fic lol💀)

The sound of Mr. Park’s whistle pierced your ears, as was the pain piercing through your head. Janis saw the dodgeball get thrown at your head in the midst of the chaos among both teams. You had already lost your balance, so that and the pushing and shoving caused you to fall. The game was promptly stopped, Janis also came up to you to help you out of the crowd of fellow students. And then, you just threw up. Everything was a blur, but you knew you weren’t exactly okay. You had a concussion.

You remembered mumbling a quick ‘sorry’ to Janis because you barely missed her Converses. And then…your world turned pitch black.

Your eyes slowly peeled opened, but instantly shut again due to the bright fluorescent lights on the ceiling. You groaned, then heard movement beside you and two people squabbling quietly. Wait a second…you knew those voices.

“y/n?”

“What?” You murmured, very slowly turning your head as you vision came into focus on the dark haired artist with dark purple streaks in her hair. “Wh- why are you here? Uh—” You looked at the person next to her. A blonde, standing next to Janis, in between Janis and your mother.

“How are you feeling?” Your mom asked.

“My head kills.” You grumbled, wincing.

“Yeah, you have a pretty bad concussion.” Your mom frowned. “But your friends are here to see you.”

“Um— okay.”

Janis wasn’t actually your friend. And especially not Regina.

”When can I go home?”

“They’re gonna keep you here for a couple days because of the concussion.”

You sighed, defeated. “Guys, just…go home. I’ve got nothing to do. I just wanna sleep.”

Regina shrugged, then left, “If you say so.” Janis stayed behind, waiting for Regina to leave first. “I’ll go get a coffee, just rest up for now, alright?” Your mom squeezed your hand as she spoke.

“Okay,” You swallowed thickly, “See you later.” You watch your mom leave, then looked back at Janis, “And why are you still here?”

“Um.” She started. “I helped you up after you fell get out of there. Just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“Well, I am. So you can go now, I’m sure you have better things to do than being in the hospital with me.”

Janis squinted at you, “I’m just worried about you.”

“Okay, but why? I know we’re in some of the same classes and all, but we’ve never really talked unless we had to work on projects together.”

“Because…” Janis cleared her throat, “I’m uh, I care about you…?”

You were too out of it, and just speaking your mind currently. “Oh, okay.”

“Regina says she likes you.”

You scoffed, “I don’t think so. I’m in her Burn Book. She wrote some nasty shit about me, Janis. Does she think I don’t know it just because I choose to keep to myself?”

“Well she just told me she does and we got into a little bit of a fight.”

“Fight for what?” You looked at her, puzzled.

“I told her that you most likely knew about the Burn Book. Like— what she wrote and stuff. She’s just insisting you don’t, because you don’t have a clue what’s going on.” Janis explained, “So then I told her, it was up to you to choose between her or me. We’re both gonna woo you.”

Woah.

“Um…” You sniffled, “I’m sorry what? Did you just confess to me? Me.”

“Seems like I did. While she left, so…” She grinned cheekily.

“Thanks for helping me out. I didn’t throw up on your shoes, did I?” You cringed.

“No, you’re good.” Janis laughed a little, leaning slightly closer to look at you. You laughed at the proximity of your faces, feeling just a tad awkward. After all, she did just confess to you. While looking at your current pale face, messy hair and bloodshot eyes. You also definitely had a bump on your head somewhere. That’s why it hurt. So damn bad.

“I’m gonna throw up.” You looked at her dead in the eyes when you said it. She was totally unfazed and just stuck the emesis bucket under your chin.

“This sucks.” You sighed.

“I feel ya.” Janis was still smiling. You weren’t used to it, but you were…okay with it. Why were you okay with it? “I hear you were supposed to tutor Regina?”

“Yeah, for algebra.” You laid back cautiously. She got rid of whatever was in the bucket and returned. “Norbury asked me to. Now I’m just…here. And I’m not too sure I wanna do it.”

“Then don’t.”

“Do you think she’ll let me off the hook?”

“I mean, Norbury—”

“Not Norbury. Regina. I’ll still see her anyway, God knows how. But you did say she’s trying to woo me too.”

“We’ll see.” She wiggled her brows playfully.

“Right, we will.”

“Hey, um, once you’re able to get outta here…should we go somewhere? Just the two of us?”

“We kind of are alone now, so…” You joked.

“I mean- yeah.” Janis laughed, “But I was thinking, something nicer than this. When you’re not feeling nauseous and achy and stuff. Only if you want, of course.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The smile on Janis’ face returned, “Put your number in. I’ll text you once I get it planned.”

You took her phone and put your number in.

“Great.” Janis slid her phone back into her pocket, “Do you want me to go so you can rest? I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay, Janis.” You agreed with a little nod, “Thanks.”

“I’ll text you.” She squeezed your hand lightly, brushing her thumb over your knuckles, “Take care.”

Janis left, so you were alone. Left alone with that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach and your throbbing head. You were dozing off when the door opened, a nurse came in to check your vitals. You didn’t have to be awake for that so you just proceeded to drift off to sleep. When you woke up, your Mom was asleep in the armchair near your bed. The clock tells you that it was way past dinnertime, but you were hungry. You see a coffee cup on the table— your Mom’s and a brown paper bag next to it. You sat up straight and scooted closer to the table to pull it closer to yourself. Quietly, you dug through the bag and found a sandwich and a brownie. You put the sandwich back then began eating the brownie contently, you felt pretty great right now considering the nausea. At least you felt like eating. And could keep it down. You found your phone after your little dinner and decided to check your messages. You’ve gotten a few from Janis, which wasn’t too surprising. But you also received a couple from Regina. She didn’t even have your number in the first place, that was weird.

Right, your moms were friends. Taking in a deep breath, you put your phone away then got up to use the bathroom. Your Mom woke up when she heard the footsteps.

“Mom, I’m okay. Just gotta pee.”

“I know, sweetie. Just making sure.” She said.

“You could’ve went home to sleep, Mom.” You told her, leaving the bathroom door open slightly. It was late and you weren’t feeling the best so you didn’t really care. “Nurses and doctors are like, ten feet away.”

“I know, but I just don’t want you to wake up and suddenly realise I left you here alone without telling you first.”

You chuckled, “Okay. I appreciate that, thank you.”

“How’s the pain?”

“It’s…there. Kind of annoying but isn’t as bad compared to when I first woke up. Did you know I threw up once?”

“When I went to get coffee? Yeah. It’s normal though, with concussions. But I get that it sucks.”

You washed your hands then walked back to your bed with the IV pole that was connected to the back of your hand.

————

The next week, Regina shows up at your on a Tuesday, claiming that she used the excuse of you having to tutor her to get out of hanging out with Gretchen and Karen because she wanted to be with you. She’s been texting you sometimes over the week, but you truly couldn’t show any real interest in her because you were just reminded of how she’d hurt you with the Burn Book, and thinks that you had zero clue.

The silence was out of shock as she stood before you on the porch. You gave her a forced smile, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanna see you. I need to talk to you.” She said, looking at you. Her gaze was soft, she seemed genuine, but you couldn’t get past that mental hurdle just yet. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, sure.” You stepped to the side so she could walk in, then you shut and locked the door.

With the silence between both of you, it did not take long for you to start talking. Talking about how you knew about the Burn Book. More specifically what was written about you.

“Janis told me about the agreement you two had.” You began, “I’m gonna be honest with you, Regina. She’s winning. Because you hurt me and assumed that I had no idea about it just because I wasn’t here on the day that the Burn Book got dropped in the hallway. The people talk, Regina. A lot. I’ve been hurt before, but they never become like you…crushing on me, or so you say. How do I believe you? How do you expect me to believe you?”

She looked at you blankly for a bit, then said, “You’re right, it’s wrong for me to assume. I never should’ve done any of it. But I cannot change what’s already been done. If you’ll let me, if you’ll give me a chance…I’ll show you that I can change. That I’ve been trying to change.”

“Regina, I’ve known you for almost seven years.” You continued, “You’ve never once made me feel comfortable in your presence. I’ve known Janis for three and barely talked to her before she stayed with me in the hospital after you left that day. She made me feel…normal. I didn’t have to keep running my replies through my head, I didn’t have to worry about my hair, my clothes, my facial expressions.”

Her face fell, her gaze turned sad, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was feeling. I didn’t know it was okay to like a girl. I couldn’t accept it, I couldn’t accept myself. I’m still struggling, but I’m sorry for what I’ve said and what I’ve done to hurt you. I thought if I did that to you, my actual feelings for you would go away. But it didn’t — and I just feel like shit.”

Seeing her sad made you so uncomfortable. You could never be at ease in her presence.

“I get that, but I cannot let this continue. I just can’t see myself being with you. I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” Regina nodded, “Thanks for letting me talk.”

“Least I could do is hear you out.” You replied.

“I’m sorry about the concussion. Shane’s a horrible player.” Regina continued.

“I’m getting better. It’s fine.” You managed a chuckle, eyes somehow welling up with tears. You actually spoke up, and she didn’t stop you.

“I got you a little something on my way here.” She took a Twix bar out of her purse, “Heard this was your favourite so I wanted to cheer you up a little.”

“Thanks, Regina.”

She smiled, though a little sadly. But she knew she wasn’t going to get more out of this than an acquaintanceship or friendship— someday, maybe. Regina’s got to move on from this rejection, but ultimately right now, now that she’s gotten an answer from you for her burning question, she just doesn’t want you to hate her anymore.

“We’ll uh, take it a day at a time, shall we?” You said, “You’re on probation.”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up, excited for a moment.

“Show me you mean it. I don’t want to see or hear you making others feel like shit. Like, actually.”

“I heard ya. You have my word.”

Regina left immediately after that, and Janis texted you right as you laid down. This goes on for a bit until you decided to make dinner for yourself since your Mom was going to be working till late. Janis texted you to ask what you were making for dinner. You texted her a photo of a packet of instant ramen.

> Do you want to go out for dinner?

You squinted, re-reading the text.

You were tempted. Very tempted, but also very nervous.

Where? <

> You pick, I drive :D

Smooth, ‘Imi’ike. You know how to make a girl smile <

> I try :p

> Pick you up in 20!

Okay then, so it seems you were going to dinner with Janis. You left the unopened pack of instant noodles on the counter then scurried to your room to go get changed after letting her know your address. You were staring at your wardrobe for what seemed like ages before you got annoyed and just decided to put on a t-shirt and a pair of jean shorts. This wasn’t a date.

This wasn’t a date. Was it?! Oh gosh.

Janis pulled up in front of your house on the dot, you grabbed your phone, wallet and keys and shoved them into your sling bag before going out. “Hi, pretty girl.” Janis smiled, reaching over from the driver’s seat to open the door for you.

You looked away for a split second before getting in to hide your flushed cheeks. She doesn’t say anything about it, so maybe she didn’t notice. It was getting kind of dark out anyway. “So…where are we headed?” Janis asked.

“Um, maybe pizza?”

“Well then, pizza it is.” Janis grinned, then drove off further away from your house. She had her playlist playing softly through the speakers, not your type of music, but you didn’t mind. It was pretty good. “Doing any better?”

“I mean, I’m going out to dinner with you so I would say so.” You laughed. “I’m going back to school tomorrow. Have some questions for the French worksheet, but that can wait.”

“That’s right, dinner first.” Janis nodded, “Good to have you back in school though. We’ll settle the French homework after.”

You’ve been cooped up at home for the last few days, you didn’t exactly have the motivation to do much even around the house. So, you didn’t force yourself to go out. You were still somewhat dizzy, and sometimes you’d suddenly get nauseous. But, a whole lot better in comparison to your first day in the hospital. You hummed, nodded, then looked out the window. “You alright? Should I turn back?”

“I’m okay.” You assured, looking at her for a moment. You saw how worried she was and felt bad. “Just the headache.” You explained. “I’m sorry.” She replied, “Do you need Tylenol? I have it in the glove compartment.”

“I already—” Your eyes screwed shut, “I already took one.”

“Close your eyes for a bit then, I’ll wake you up when we get there.” Janis suggested, “Maybe the lights are making your headache worse. You like Pepperoni?”

“Okay.” You muttered. “Yeah, that’s my favourite. With hot honey.”

As you turned your head to face the window, you nodded off quite quickly thanks to the movement of the car. So, lucky for Janis, you didn’t notice that she was smiling at you— in her words, ‘like an idiot’.

Awhile later, the car comes to a stop at a light. Swiftly, Janis made a pickup order for pizza— one pineapple and one pepperoni with hot honey. As soon as she put her phone back down, the light turned green. So she continued to drive to the pizza parlour. Once at the pizza place, she collected the pizzas and returned to her car. You seemed fine, but she was still a bit worried nonetheless. It also wasn’t too long before Janis arrived at the destination she had in mind.

She parked the car but left the engine on. Tapping your shoulder, she said, “We’re here.”

You stirred in your sleep a little bit but woke up soon enough. Where the hell were you?

You squinted your eyes again, trying to get used to the dim surroundings. “Where are we? Did you take me to this secluded place to murder me? I’m shocked.”

“Woah, woah.” She snickered, “Calm down, I’m not Jade West plotting something against Tori Vega.” Then you saw her turn to face you, shifting in her seat. Janis unbuckled your seatbelt and you were so taken aback, you held your breath. You couldn’t exactly see that since it was dark. You just felt it until you saw her look right into your eyes. “Hi~”

Well, there it goes. You were blushing— again. God, why is she so pretty?!

“Where are we?”

“A place… to eat our pizza that wouldn’t hurt your eyes and your head.” Janis grinned cheekily, getting out from the driver’s side and opened your door for you. Sticking her hand out, you held onto it without even processing what you just did. You were…spacing out a little.

You blinked profusely, snapping back into reality when you felt a tap on your nose. “I know you’re recovering from a concussion, babe. But don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry, I just— sorry—” You rambled. She leads you a little ways away from her car.

She laughed, finding this so freaking cute. “It’s okay, ‘cause you’re cute.” Janis squeezes your hand, brushing her thumb over your knuckles, “Sit down.” You two were now standing under a tree. She sat down on the grass, then you followed suit a second later.

“Okay, eat up.” Janis opened up the box containing the hot honey pepperoni pizza first for you, “It’s still warm.”

“Is this—”

“Yup.”

Now you were the one smiling like an idiot. “Wow, thanks.” You chuckled.

“No problem.” She said back, helping herself to a slice.

As you munched on your own slice, you finally got the chance to look up and around you. You saw the stars, and were quickly in awe. “Okay, this is amazing. Thank you for taking me here.”

“Hey, I wasn’t going to let you suffer under bright lights and neon signs if that means you can’t have a good time tonight.” Janis replied, “Now that I think of it, you’re not gonna puke are you?”

“Not anytime soon, I don’t think.” You answered with a laugh, “I also have a touch of emetophobia so I’m just lucky I was that out of it in the hospital.”

“Aw.”

“I deal with it.” You shrugged.

“Of course, but if you need anything let me know how to help, okay?”

You only nodded since your mouth was full. “I bought drinks too, what do you want? Water or Sprite?”

“Water’s good.” You replied, glancing at her. She opened the cap for you and you took it from her, mumbling a soft thank-you. “Um, also, earlier today…Regina came over to talk to me. But instead, I told her I knew about what she wrote about me in that dumb book. Told her I couldn’t picture myself with her at all because she’s never made me feel comfortable in her presence— ever.”

“She didn’t give you too much trouble, I hope.”

“No, actually. I said all that to her, and she proceeded to tell me she basically did what she did because she didn’t know how to deal with her feelings for a girl. She didn’t know it was okay to like a girl, and thought that if she bullied me or you for that matter…that her feelings would change.” You sighed, “I feel for her, but she did hurt me. I didn’t know why, and even if I do now…it doesn’t change the past.”

“It must be difficult too since your moms are friends.”

“We only had to spend time in the same place because our moms wanted to hang out sometimes. She didn’t talk to me, I didn’t talk to her. It was really tense and awkward though.”

“I bet.” Janis smiled, understanding deeply, “Okay, so enough about that. Tell me…about you.”

“Not much going on in my life, Janis.” You shrugged, “Parents know I’m gay, Dad hates it, hates me. Mom pretends to not acknowledge it around him. But I know she’s okay with it. I mean…I don’t tell her things because I’m still a bit cautious about it since she might tell my Dad. But yeah.”

“Luckily for me, my parents are both okay with it. My mom’s bi actually.” Janis said back, “I also know that thanks to my culture, with what I was taught from a young age about the people of my home…I didn’t have to hide it. I just existed. And then I came over to the mainland and all of a sudden it’s a big deal.”

“I love that you’re so…you.” You laughed awkwardly, “Okay that’s so random, you get it, right? Like I went out to lunch with a girl from my class in freshmen year and I kept thinking people were staring at me because they were thinking that I was on a date. But no it wasn’t. At that point I wasn’t even out yet, but I knew that I definitely liked girls. I just wasn’t sure yet if I only liked girls.”

“Trying to figure that out can be tough, honey.” Janis nodded, remembering her own experience. “It’s like, it’s a natural attraction for us but actually knowing that it has a label? Like woah.”

————

“Well, this is you, pretty girl.” Janis’ car slowed to a stop in front of your house— almost four hours later.

“Thanks for driving me home.”

“Of course.” Janis flashes you a smile, “Good night, y/n.”

“Night, Janis.” You smiled back, “Thanks for dinner.”

“Anytime, y/n. Anytime.” Janis leaned closer to you and just held your face in her hand, “And um, tonight’s not a date. I’ll be texting you soon about the deets for our very first one”

“Feels like it to me.” You sulked, “What do you mean it wasn’t?”

She laughed, stroking your cheek, “Okay, but officially, officially— we’re going to this ceramic painting thing on Friday.”

“Oh.” You smiled excitedly, “On Friday?”

“Mhm.” She confirmed, chuckling at your excitement, “We have a half day so I’ll pick you up at 3 if you wanna change or anything.”

“Alrighty, sounds good.” You nodded, face still in her hand. Inches away from hers. Janis tilted her head as if it was a silent ask. You gave her a look and she just smooched you on the cheek, the kiss soft and sweet. Fluttering like it was a butterfly— kinda tickled, but not enough to make you laugh,

“Good night, Janis.” You told her, in a hurry to get out of her sight because you felt like you were going to explode or die from embarrassment because your cheeks got so hot.

“Sweet dreams, pretty girl.”

Best night ever? Yeah.

You couldn’t wait for Friday. You also couldn’t wait to go back to school tomorrow— you were going to be able to see her every other class thanks to your schedule for that day. So you were beyond happy about that, and to have some level of normalcy in your life again.

Friday rolled around pretty quick, and you were relieved because the school week was over. Once the last bell let out, you rushed to Janis’ locker. Damian beat you to it. “Hey, girl.”

“Oh!” You gasped, “Hi. I’m just— waiting for—”

“Janis? I know.” He laughed, “This is exciting. About time, though.”

You bit back a laugh, “Okay. Good to see you too, I uh— I’m a little nervous, not gonna lie.”

“Oh, don’t be. She really likes you.”

“I know, it’s just. A thing—”

“First date?” He asked knowingly.

You nodded, sulking. “So?”

“You’ll be fine—”

“Hey, dude. What’re ya saying to her that’s got her sulking.” Janis appeared, putting an arm around your shoulder.

“Nothing bad, y’all.” He clutched his chest dramatically, “Just assuring her that everything is gonna be fine. She’s nervous.”

“Damian!” You chided.

“What? She’s gonna know anyway.”

“I’ll see you on Sunday.” Janis said, looking at Damian, “Leave her alone.”

You decided your outfit was fine so you just followed Janis to her place. She lived in the garage, she pretty much had her own little apartment in this space. “This is pretty cool.”

“Happened because of a ‘my roof my rules’ argument. This garage is a separate building, so it’s technically my roof.” Janis explained, “I’m just gonna get changed real quick then we can go, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah. Take your time.” You slowly sat on her couch. You hear her walking behind you and the sound of a door opening— her wardrobe. Obviously you knew that she was getting changed so you just stared at whatever was in front of you. “Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?” She nearly snorted.

“Just waiting for you, Janis. I’m okay.”

She changed into this fluffy green and black striped cropped sweater, and dark grey ripped jeans. Then, her usual black Converses were swapped out for dark green ones. “Let’s go.” She took your hand into hers and walked the short distance to her car like this with you.

During the drive, you two just chatted about anything that came to mind. You and Janis were so engrossed in the conversation that you didn’t even realise that you were already at the workshop.

You picked out a mug, and so did she. You were just having fun with your painting but Janis was absolutely in her element. You knew she was an artist, and you’ve seen her art pieces…you’ve just never seen her in action. You never thought you would. You could not believe you were on a date with Janis ’Imi’ike.

“You painting that for me?” She snickered.

“Are you?” You went along with it.

“Actually, yeah.” Janis smiled, taking a sneaky peek at you.

“Oh.”

“Don’t be so surprised.” Janis chuckled, “If you’re that surprised by this, what’s gonna happen during my next surprise?”

“Your next—”

She had this mischievous grin on her face again, it was awfully endearing.

“I’m just waiting to ask you out again, y/n.” That grin doesn’t leave her face. She glances at you then was equally quick to return her focus to her little project. Two hours and two painted mugs later, you walked out of there with paint splatters all over your white t-shirt. Most of which were intentionally done by Janis to make you laugh. It worked, and also pretty much got a new shirt— kinda. It actually looked good.

“You wanna go for pizza?”

“Not really.” You answered, still holding her hand.

“Not hungry?” Janis asked, checking the time on her watch.

“Not with my head trying to kill me.”

“Let’s go home.” Janis looked at you sadly, snaking a careful arm around your waist while the both of you walked through the lot to locate her car. “You okay to spend the night?”

“Yeah, definitely better than being home and having to hear my Dad yell at her. They got into it again last night.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to worry about it for the night at least. It’ll be nice and quiet at mine.” Janis kissed the back of your hand. Hearing the chirp of her car, you opened the passenger door promptly and got seated. Janis also wasted no time and began driving once you had buckled your seatbelt. “Do you mind if I nap?”

“No, not at all. But, if the headache’s are still going on…it’s been two weeks already. Might be a good thing to tell your doctor that.”

“I’ll call Monday.” You answered quietly, eyes half open.

“Alright.” She didn’t press for more information out of you, obviously. You were uncomfortable right now with the persistent headache after the concussion. Fucking Shane.

You woke up right as Janis stopped the car and turned the engine off. “Right on time.” She smiled sweetly, “Let’s get you settled then you can get some proper sleep.”

“What? It’s so early.” You couldn’t help but laugh a bit.

“A proper nap. After you take something for your headache.” She corrected herself, taking you by the hand and leading you inside the house through the front door, “Just grabbing the meds, water and something to eat so it doesn’t hurt your stomach. Ibuprofen might work better for you if Tylenol doesn’t help.

You didn’t object, knowing she was most likely right. Also the pain, was a little too much right now. That tended to make you a little more withdrawn than usual. “Are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor? Because a head injury is no joke—”

“I’m good, I just need to tough it out.”

You sat down on Janis' bed, she handed you a granola bar and you unwrapped it so you could eat it, and the ibuprofen then take a nap. “Here.”

“Thank you.”

“Need anything else?”

You silently shook your head. After eating half of the bar, you popped the pill into your mouth and gulped the pill with a swig of water. “If you want to change into something more comfy…I’ve got you covered.”

“It’s okay, Jan. I just want to sleep this off.”

Janis sat next to you, ultimately deciding to lay down next to you. “I’m sorry you’re in pain.”

“I’ll be okay.” You let out a frustrated sigh, turning to lay on your side. You met her gaze. She caresses your cheek, “It’s okay if you don’t feel good , you know? Don’t have to hide it with me. I wanna help you.”

You exhaled slowly, licking your lips. A painful lump was forming in your throat. You swallowed harshly, “I know, it’s just not easy for me to…ask…for help.”

“That’s alright, I know this feeling. You’re okay. I promise, you’re safe with me.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

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leejenowrld · 2 days ago

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hi everyone!! i just wanted to share one of my close friends and moots essay style writing and review she so kindly wrote about ‘love me back.’ it’s written with so much detail, nuance and thoughtfulness <3 i shed so many tears reading it and writing my response. this is something i had to share, so please read it with a lot of care and attention. this post will be split into two parts, @outoforbit piece she sent me and then my response 🖤 buckle up. this is a long post but if you have time please give this a read, it will awaken your heart <3

[here is the original post @outoforbit made, here’s the think piece. i copied and pasted it exactly as it was written below but in case you wanted to read it in it’s original form, here you are]

part one — @outoforbit piece that she sent me, her essay style piece on ‘love me back.’

In a world where everybody dreams of chasing the glow of a superficial spotlight, two luminaries find solace in one another’s natural light.

I could wax on poetic about these two and their love story forever, but if I had to sum up why I adore Mark and Y/N together it’d be for the way they perceive one another:

In Y/N’s eyes, Mark Lee is the sun. A body of radiance that is essential. He’s got this burning gaze that could rearrange the cosmos if he wanted it so. He’s unstoppable on and off the court. He’s triumphant because he looks into the face of tribulation not just with a quiet, steady confidence, but a certain type of knowing acceptance that he is not who or wants anyone defines him to be— he’s above it. Instead of giving into the justifiable hatred and rage he’s accumulated over the years of living in the monumental absence that’s threatened to eclipse his entire identity since prior to his birth, he’s everything warm and nurturing. Instead of replicating the destruction that is determined to extinguish his hope, he extends genuine care and tenderness. A sure, forever-certain pillar amidst the relentless chaos and clashes. Everyone just looks on and can’t help but revolve around this once-overlooked hero whose star is on the rise. That’s why it’s so hard to hold his gaze. So hard to accept that under his watchful eye, he can cut through the glamorous veneer others admire, parse through what’s obvious to the naked eye for what’s behind her carefully constructed walls, and love every aspect of who she truly is. After all, even as a talented photographer that’s got an affinity for playing with shadow and light, how is anyone able to capture the essence of a heavenly body without going blind from that type of brilliance?

In Mark’s eyes, Y/N is the North Star. A steady, shimmering point in the sky in her own incredible right. Sure, there are other bright and shiny things to entice the eye. But who could carry themselves so effortlessly? Be (sometimes frustratingly) so far removed from reality yet possess the ability to knock the earth completely off its axis at the same time? No one could ever compare to how her existence alone could slow down time, draw him in, and allow him to free-fall. Joining the Seoul Hill Ravens basketball team had him on the fast track to confronting his own blood, grappling with his mortality, navigating a sea of newly-acquired adoring fans— and it’s so easy to get lost in all of that and more. It’s dizzying like watching a time lapse of night turn into day on 2x speed. When nothing seems to be going right, he turns to her because she is his constant. While the game doesn’t wait for anyone, while all eyes are on him —waiting for his next move with bated breath— he’s only watching her. He only sees his unwavering beacon of light, leading him home. Because she is his home. She doesn’t drift away like his so-called father, like his dashed dreams when his heart seems to have failed him. She never drifts when it really counts. She’s still there when he looks up, when he needs her most. She’s always had him wishing on her, for her —she’s always been his even before either of them knew it.

*I was toying with these comparisons in my mind for a long time, and when I remembered that section in Part Two, where Y/N tells Mark about how she snuck out late at night to take pictures of the sky and constellations, it really validated this train of thought.*

Now, these lovebirds aren’t the only characters that make this story as fantastic as it. So here are my (somewhat unserious) thoughts on some of the other all-star cast of characters:

Mark’s Best Friend

I’m not going to pretend like I wasn’t hurt on behalf of Y/N when she doubted her relationship Mark, and was especially hurt when she got to hug him before Y/N was able to in Part Six. But I can understand that we haven’t gotten to know her all that well outside of what Y/N’s perspective shows. I think she deserves more grace than she receives. There’s a history there we haven’t seen. There’s an undeniable love behind those blunt approaches to protecting her best friend. I’m going to cheat a bit and reserve the rest of my thoughts regarding for Back To You. All I will say is, she’s grown quite a bit on me from what I do know, and she’s already got a home inside in my heart (I’ll be that adult and buy her the giant bean bag).

Jeno

It pains me so much to say he’s the one the didn’t get away. The one who couldn’t. (At least, not yet, anyway. Everybody go read Back To You!) Beneath the title of captain, beneath the jersey that makes him look extra hot (this is not me talking, I was trying to find Mark’s jersey number and Command+F brought me to several mentions of how great he looked in his jersey), beneath the one-who-has-it-all facade he wears like a second skin, is someone who loves so hard in the only way he knows how. Being the only son Taeyong acknowledges isn’t a blessing. Everybody knows this. Jeno knows this. However, Rome wasn’t built in a day, and dismantling Taeyong’s iron grip over the life Jeno’s worked so hard to craft for his father’s approval will prove to be a journey that’s full of strife and heartbreak. Even so, I look forward to seeing where his character will go in terms of not just setting, but also personal growth. I found myself writing and rewriting this portion about Jeno (it still proves to be quite difficult to express what it is I find so compelling about Jeno because I saw myself in him more than I care to admit; through his fiery impulses, through his defiance despite the influence his father still has over him) but personal feelings/experiences aside, there were a lot of scenes sprinkled throughout the series that could never be the same without his presence to foil and highlight other characters and the dynamics that progressed from it.

Karina

Oh, Karina, sweet Karina. I’ve attributed colors to about two people in my life. Neither of them have a color as vivid as Miss Hot Mess Express herself. Every time I see her name when I read Love Me Back, my mind just envisions nay, screams hot pink and sparkly! Rereading where you describe her in Part One, I feel like that color association makes sense now. She’s essentially the Energizer Bunny with awesome hair and pom-poms instead of sunglasses and drums. She’s the ultimate cheerleader —not just on the court, but also in life. She’s all about the good times (“She’s super fun, super flirty even with an ankle injury!” could be a cheer for her), but when she’s not having a good time, she doesn’t shy away from telling it like it is— especially to her best friend. When the laughter fades and the party’s over, she’s an eagle-eyed spectator who wants to experience true love first-hand, too. She deserves to have someone who loves her. She can see what it does to a person —love— the way it brightens you up, pushes you to make some rather bone-headed decisions, causes you to yearn for the other if you’ve been separated for even a second. I hope whoever is lucky enough to be with her constantly throws confetti and celebrates her.

Donghyuck

He’s the life of the party and hilarious. We all need a Donghyuck to be the commentator of our lives. He could make watching paint dry sound engaging and action-packed. His lively announcing made the harrowing matches so much fun, and I can’t wait to hear more from him. And him directing that dance routine in Part Three! That man really can do anything.

Chenle

Clearly he’s the arbiter of taste in any friend group. The one to pull a friend up after they’ve been knocked down during a fight. The one to tease you lovingly. The one to genuinely question your judgment, too. But he’s a ride or die friend, from the river court days to the Ravens team days. He’s seen it all. He may or may not be impressed.

Ningning

Ningning is my queen. She is fashion™ . She is all things fabulous. No notes. If anyone has any, no, they don’t— they need notes from her.

Irene & Seulgi

The two pretty best friends are a package deal, and they should apply for sainthood after everything Taeyong’s put them through

The way these two extend all love and no judgment towards their sons’ partners despite their painful past— and even taking time out of their day to offer advice and encouragement in Part Seven is something I will to exist in real life for everyone

Someone send these moms the prettiest, nicest smelling flowers. I love them so much

Sainthood Applicant #1

If Chenle’s the one who’s seen it all, well, Irene’s heard it all

+10 points for making sure her kids are attempting to practice safe sex in any capacity

I would make a terrible barista, but I’d love to work at her cafe. Name a cozier place in the entire series, I dare you

Real talk, though, Mark recounting how she cried after kids teasing Mark about his father and Jeno, and how he quit the little leagues for her broke my heart. Part Three was too real for me as both a reader and person

Taeyong might have not ever had an ounce of love for Mark, but Irene had enough love for the both of them and whoever else that would make the effort to be a part of the mother-son duo’s lives

Her strength to pick up the pieces and never look back is something I will to exist in real life for everyone

Sainthood Applicant #2

Again, Part Three, but Y/N’s thoughts are thoughts I’ve had regarding a personal situation

Paired with someone I love dearly and am so, so lucky to have in my life looking at me in the soft way Seulgi looks at Jeno and the ache of pity that Y/N feels for her— it actually made me optimistic that if I can feel seen from finding the things that haunt me, then there’s hope that things that made me feel joy from this series also exists in real life as well

I felt a little less crazy and alone the day I read this

Her endless kindness, her efforts to build a relationship with Mark and Irene for the sake of Jeno is a type of generosity I will to exist in real life for everyone

Dishonorable Mention:

Taeyong

I believe in a higher power in every universe. He is not that higher power. He will never be that higher power no matter how many times he schemes, manipulates, and cruelly attempts to crush the spirits of his sons and everyone they hold dear. The audacity of that man to come onto the court and berate and shame everyone he lays eyes on

There were some tears shed earlier, so my eloquence is lost on me. Here are some of scenes I would kiss on the forehead and tuck into bed every night for varying reasons:

“Without a second thought, he’s gone, swallowed by the crowd. You stand there, invisible, feeling like an afterthought. You watch as Jeno gravitates toward a group of girls, the kind you’ve seen around before—the ones who always seem to be in his orbit, looking for a chance to get close. They laugh at something he says, their hands grazing his arm, their gazes hungry. And Jeno, your supposed boyfriend, leans into it.

You watch as one of the girls, dressed in a tight, glittering dress, dances close to him, her body pressed against his as they move to the beat. Jeno’s hands rest on her waist for just a second—nothing more than a passing touch, but it’s enough to sting. Enough to make your stomach twist. She leans in to whisper something in his ear, and he smirks. It’s a look you’ve seen before—not necessarily malicious, just confident, like he’s always known how to handle this kind of attention. His eyes are a bit hazy, a mix of alcohol and the mood of the night, and he doesn’t even glance in your direction.” (Part One)

Now, this obviously isn’t the sweetest scene a person could read —let alone experience— but it so perfectly highlights how incompatible Y/N and Jeno are despite suffering similar issues. Tying back into my whole spiel about luminaries, Y/N doesn’t yet see her worth, her inner light. She’s going through the motions, thinking the only body of light in her life is Jeno, with his own entourage of bright young things (in sparkly dresses no less). At this point in the relationship, the person who should’ve seen her not only focused on everybody her, he didn’t even try to spare her a look. It’s got Y/N feeling like not only are they drifting further apart, but she’s slipping away from life in general, being more spirit than star.

As for Jeno, he’s not doing too hot either, not really. Having his girlfriend not understand the weight of his incoming brother stir all sorts of fear in him made him throw himself further into the company of people that appreciated what he could control: his carefully constructed reputation. He’s drifting too, desperately search for warmth and light in places that won’t suffice. But he’ll pretend they’ll due because it’s easier, more comfortable to live the fake life he knows than leave for any love that’s true.

“As the game continues, it’s clear that Jeno underestimated his brother. Mark isn’t just holding his own—he’s thriving. Each basket he makes feels like a step out of the shadow Jeno has cast over him for so long. For Jeno, this is about dominance, about keeping Mark out of his world. But for Mark, it’s about more than that. It’s about carving out his own place, about proving he can hold his own.” (Part One)

I’m a broken record, but I won’t stop playing with this comparison of these beloved characters to stars. You can’t cover the sun, not really. Sure, the moon might slide on by and cast a shadow onto the earth to make you think such a light could be swallowed whole. I know Jeno’s mentioned as the shadow in the text, but I think the true shadowy menace is Taeyong and the damage he’s done to these boys. For years, he’s pretended one son doesn’t exist and the other is constantly pushed to the breaking point. Jeno is acting on behalf of him, going off what he was taught. So Jeno thinks he’s losing his life, but in reality, he’s slowly losing a shadow himself. He’s operating out of a deep-seated fear while his brother carries on with quiet confidence.

Back to Mark. He may not have had Taeyong, but he had all the warmth and love Irene and Doyoung could give. For everything people mocked him for lacking, he possessed something Jeno was deprived of. He grew up in an environment full of freedom that encouraged him to cultivate his own light, to nurture it into something truly astonishing. He’s truly confident and he’s got the skills to back it up. When you shine that bright, who can really stop you? When you have your own light, why would you ever feel the need to steal it from anyone else?

“You let your hand rest on top of his, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips. His fingers instinctively intertwined with yours, the touch delicate yet reassuring. It was more than just physical contact—it was the silent understanding that you weren’t alone anymore, that he was here, holding you through it all.” (Part One)

Guys, gals, and non-binary pals, the luminaries have made contact, I repeat, the luminaries have made contact.

This is peak intimacy

After everything that’s been going on and falling apart, Mark’s presence, his gentleness and warmth has brought Y/N home. Gravity has never felt so good

“His smile widened a fraction, but he didn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue. With slightly trembling fingers, you reached into your bag and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped package—a record you had made just for him. The case was simple, but you had taken the time to customize it—his name written in a looping script across the front, surrounded by small doodles of guitars and basketballs. You had put more effort into it than you’d ever admit, each stroke of ink a small way of thanking him without having to say the words.” (Part Two)

Would a 2000s teen show inspired romance be complete without a custom mix to express your gratitude???

We need to bring this back, or maybe it never stopped and I’m out of the loop

Bottom line is this shit is cute, especially because Y/N is artistic and Mark’s a music major so it’s so personal and thoughtful

““Relax,” he says again, his voice low, soothing, his gaze focused on you as if you’re the only thing in the room. “Just be yourself. That’s all I’m asking.” His fingers adjust the angle of your arm, his thumb brushing along your wrist as he guides you into a natural, comfortable pose. The intensity in his gaze makes you feel like he’s peeling back every layer, seeing something raw and true beneath your surface.

He lifts the camera, snapping a few shots, his focus unwavering. “That’s perfect,” he murmurs, his eyes flicking from the viewfinder to you, his smile soft, encouraging. “Just like that.” There’s a quiet reverence in his tone, as if he’s in awe, like he’s seeing you in a way no one else ever has.” (Part Two)

Peak intimacy, but with photography

It’s really sweet to see Y/N, someone who’s always been on the other side of the camera to capture other’s beauty, finally be seen by someone who not only sees her, but wants to see her for all that she is beyond her physicality

I think it’s in these moments that Y/N is learning to let the light into her life, letting Mark into her life by sharing something that’s important to her (her artistry, her craft)

“Her frustrations are further compounded by the fact that she can’t openly express these feelings without seeming petty or envious. So, she remains silent, wrestling with her feelings privately, which only adds to the weight of her isolation. Every laugh and whisper she overhears, every moment she witnesses of your shared happiness, is a reminder of the void within her own emotional landscape, making her feel even more detached and alone.

Thus, her reactions and expressions are not just about the disruption in the household or the inconveniences caused by your romantic escapades. They are about a deeper, more personal ache—an ache for connection, for being seen, for being part of something as effortlessly beautiful as your relationship with Mark. In her quiet moments, she grapples with these feelings, unsure how to bridge the gap between her loneliness and the contentment she observes in you.” (Part Three)

Here, I go again, talking about light. In Karina’s case, I think she’s got disco ball vibes. It may sound less impressive compared to the sun or a star, but I genuinely believe Karina is her own special sort of light. A million reflective pieces placed onto a sphere that never stops sparkling or spinning, matching the mood and raising the vibes. She’s a dancer. An entertainer. The one who can’t be missing from a party.

But what happens when the party ends? It’s not that she stops sparkling, but when you spend so long reflecting someone else’s shine —in this case, Mark’s sun and Y/N’s star— how long before you start to wonder it would feel like to be seen that way too?

Karina’s always been by Y/N’s side, always trying to lift her spirits and show her support. It can be scary to feel like you’re being replaced. It can be isolating to want love but not know where to find it

“The light in Mark’s eyes and the broadness of his smile as he embraces his mother capture you completely. He seems to radiate happiness, the kind that fills the space around him and draws people in. His cheeks, surely aching from smiling so much, only add to the warmth that his expression carries. Watching him in such a pure moment, you can’t help but feel a surge of joy that tightens your chest in a familiar, yet always surprising, way. It stirs something deep within you—a mix of admiration and a sharp pang of longing. What was this tightening in your chest that seemed to draw tighter with each of his smiles?

Seeing him like this makes you ache to be by his side. You want to be the one he shares these moments with, someone who can give him the same comfort and support that he gets from his family. The happiness on his face brings a soft smile to yours, even as you feel a small pang of longing, wishing you could step closer, congratulate him, and tell him how proud you are. But, for now, you stay where you are, letting the warmth of his happiness reach you from afar.

“That’s how he looks when he’s with you,” Karina murmurs, startling you. She’s right beside you, and her presence snaps you back to reality. You quickly ask about her condition, recalling the fight she’d been involved in. She waves off the concern, showing only a few scratches. “We handled it,” she assures with a wry smile.

Your attention drifts back to Mark, who now converses with a man standing close to his mother. The man’s presence is comforting, almost fatherly as Mark looks at him with evident respect and fondness. Curiosity about his identity flickers through your mind, but the warmth of seeing Mark surrounded by love overshadows it.” (Part Three)

It’s starting to feel all too real, isn’t it? It’s easy to get lost in the darkness, to get used to it. We’ve seen some characters revel in the darkness in order to bask in a superficial light. Jeno fighting his brother for the spotlight that Mark’s never wanted. Karina strung up for temporary joy, fixed to the ceiling and not the sky she craves. Y/N still caught in the residual darkness of her past relationship and self-doubt. Three close friends who grew up in an environment abundant in artificial light. It can be hard to break free, to recognize the natural radiance of a genuine support system. When you get a taste of it, even from afar, how do you stretch out your hand and accept it? What if it dims because they had to share it with you?

I’ve felt that fear before. I’ve felt like my heart was a gaping blackhole in my chest where a heart should be. I imagined myself to be a thief, a light-snatcher of sorts. In the case that I ever generated enough light to share, it would somehow not be enough to sustain someone else. But everybody’s got an inner light, and these lights only make the world brighter. When it comes from a place of love, it won’t dim. When it’s nurtured, it won’t extinguish. This is the heavenly sight that unfolds before their eyes when they watch Irene and Doyoung showing up and celebrating their son Mark.

“Mark’s smile was calm, reassuring. “I wanna introduce you to all of my friends,” he said, his expression warm as he glanced down at you.

You nodded, but your heart raced. Even though you’d been here once before with Mark, this felt entirely different. This wasn’t just the two of you stealing a quiet moment together—this was stepping into a world that meant so much to him, meeting the people who had shaped and supported him long before you were in the picture. The weight of the moment settled over you as the court came fully into view, the sacred space alive with movement and laughter.” (Part Four)

I really love the reverence Y/N has for the life Mark has outside of her. I know she’s nervous, but this was equally important to Mark. He wanted to let someone he loved into his world, he wanted to share all the things and people that made him who he is with the person he wants to spend his future with. Their little world is expanding, and the light is shining brighter on them.

“Karina doesn’t let up, her hand still resting gently on your knee. “I know it’s not,” she says, her tone patient but firm. “But you’re making yourself miserable trying to live up to what everyone else thinks or expects. The only person who needs to believe in this relationship is you—and Mark. He’s chosen you, Y/N. Every single day, he chooses you. Doesn’t that mean something?”

Her words dig deep, unravelling the knot of doubt and fear tangled inside you. “What if I’m not enough?” you whisper, the confession slipping out before you can stop it. “What if I’m the one who ruins it?”

Karina listens quietly, her brows furrowed as she takes in every word, her hand resting lightly on your knee as if to ground you. When you finish, her voice is soft but steady. “You know,” she starts, “the way you’re reacting… it’s not unnatural. When something feels this real, this overwhelming, it’s instinct to want to push it away. You’re scared because it matters so much.” Her words hit you like a gentle nudge, a reminder that your feelings aren’t abnormal, but they still don’t make you feel any less guilty.

“But, Y/N,” she continues, leaning forward, “Mark makes you happy. I can see it. Everyone can see it. He’s good for you in a way no one else has been. He brings out something better in you—makes you lighter, freer, even when you don’t realise it. And I think you do the same for him. That’s rare, and you deserve that. You deserve someone who makes you feel this way, even if it’s scary.”” (Part Five)

Shit’s getting real. Words are exchanging, and not all of them are sweet and patient ‘I love you’s. The blood feud alone was enough to weigh on Y/N’s mind. But the brothers aren’t the only ones fighting. To feel a love as real as the one Mark has for her is terrifying. She’s battling herself, and she could lose it all.

I’ll never sing enough praises for Karina being a guiding light to Y/N, helping her make sense of the matter at hand. It’s not just Mark that chooses Y/N. Karina chose her too. Y/N’s got some great people by her side.

Y/N doesn’t have just a soulmate in Mark. She’s found one in Karina too. And she can start showing herself some love by allowing the good to enter her life. She’s allowed to be happy, to be seen, to be loved.

“And then, as if sensing the shift in the air, Jeno glances toward Taeyong, who stands near the edge of the court, clipboard in hand, his posture rigid. “This guy’s gonna kill us,” Jeno says, his voice low but tinged with a rare, conspiratorial edge. His laugh is dry as he gestures subtly toward their father, who looks every bit the control freak he is, hunched over his notes with an intensity that borders on manic.

Mark’s eyebrows furrow slightly, but he doesn’t dwell on it. He plays along, responding like nothing had ever gone wrong. “Yeah,” he mutters, wiping the sweat from his forehead and glancing toward Taeyong, who is hunched over his clipboard, scribbling with an intensity that feels borderline obsessive. “But we’re not gonna let him.”

Jeno turns to him, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Mark mirrors the expression, his own smirk creeping up. “I may be thinking worse,” he replies, a quiet defiance in his voice. “You know how much I hate that man.”

The shared admission hangs in the air for a moment, thick with unspoken solidarity.” (Part Five)

While Y/N have had a heart to heart, it’s time the Lee brothers were shown some love. This love is defiant. For all the brashness that Jeno usually exhibits, this feels different. It feels like bravery. He’s found a kindred spirit in his estranged brother Mark. Despite leading separate lives, they both lived under Taeyong’s shadow. But in this brief moment, they can overpower that looming absence of light together. They recognize their father’s stolen their shine, but they’re making moves together to not let that happen anymore —even if it’s just for today.

“You glance back at Mark, unable to stop yourself. He’s leaning against the bleachers now, his head tilted back slightly as he laughs at something Jeno said. He looks so at ease, so untouched by the chaos that’s been consuming you. And for a moment, you wonder if you made the right choice. Maybe he really is better off without you, without the mess you bring into his life.” (Part Five)

I know it’s easy to get caught up in this whirlwind romance. I’ve gushed about it for so long. But there’s so much more to love than what’s shared between lovers. Y/N, still wallowing in her own doubt, can’t yet recognize that the bond that Jeno and Mark could share won’t be sullied by her presence. It’s okay to let more than one type of love in at a time— even if it’s not fully formed or completely realized.

“Without a word, you smacked his chest, narrowing your eyes as you shifted to straddle him, your movements slow and deliberate. His grin faltered slightly, replaced by a flicker of something softer, more serious, as your hands cupped his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “You need to promise me,” you whispered, your voice trembling with equal parts fear and determination. “Promise me you’ll tell your coach, go to the doctors, and get your medication. I don’t care if you hate it. I don’t care if you’re scared. I don’t care if you hate that your dad has the same condition.” You paused, your voice breaking slightly as your fingers tightened against his skin. “None of that matters, Mark. The only thing that matters is you. I need you alive. I need you happy and healthy. You’re everything to me.”” (Part Five)

Y/N is basically telling Mark she loves him without telling him she loves him

She’s had the capacity to love all along, she was just so caught up in her self-doubt

Mark really is the sun in her life, if he goes, she’s going with him

““I’m so proud of you,” you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. Your thumb brushes along his cheekbone, wiping away the faint trace of tears. He doesn’t respond, but he presses his forehead to yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet space between you. His eyes flutter closed, his face tilting into your touch as if seeking out more of your warmth, your reassurance.” (Part Six)

I don’t have anything profound or revolutionary to say, I just live for these moments where the love Y/N’s experienced/seen now has her showing love in that same way. Character development!

“Doyoung turns his attention to Jeno, his expression shifting into something softer, almost hesitant. “And you, Jeno. You’ve been carrying your own weight, haven’t you? I see the way you look out for Mark, the way you protect him—whether it’s from himself, from others, or from all the crap life throws at him. You don’t just step up when someone asks you to. You do it because you care. Because you’re loyal. And it’s not just about Mark. You’ve been trying to hold this family together in your own way, even if you don’t realize it.”

Jeno’s brow furrows slightly, his posture stiffening. “I don’t know about all that,” he mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I just do what I can.”

Doyoung shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’s more than that. It’s the way you show up. For Mark. For everyone around you. And I want you to know, Jeno—I’m proud of you.”” (Part Six)

Again, nothing profound. The scene is already so well-written and so full of love and recognition. Jeno deserves it just as much as anybody else in this story (except Taeyong obviously)

““I am serious about him,” you pressed on, your voice growing stronger, more resolute with each word. “More serious than I’ve ever been about anything in my life. Mark isn’t just someone to me—he’s everything. And yeah, I’ve let him down before, but that’s not who I am anymore. I’ve spent so much time running from my feelings, trying to figure out what I want, and it’s him. It’s always been him.”

Chenle’s eyes lifted cautiously to meet yours, uncertainty softening the rigid lines of his face. He didn’t speak, but his silence felt less like rejection and more like quiet consideration.

“I’m not here to argue,” you added, your voice gentler now but no less firm. “I’m here to prove you wrong. To prove to you, to Mark, and to myself that I’m ready. That I deserve him. Because he’s mine, and I’m his. And I’m not letting him go.”” (Part Six)

When I first read this part, I was so nervous I thought my heart was gonna explode. What would Chenle say?? What would Mark say??

Rereading it, I feel a sense of peace knowing it was Y/N’s time to put in the work to prove that she loves Mark, that’s she serious about him and about them. I’m proud of her.

“Then he jumped. It was the kind of jump that stole the breath from your lungs. Time seemed to stutter as his body soared, muscles taut and perfectly aligned, his form defying the laws of physics. His arm stretched upward, commanding the ball with a precision that was almost primal, before slamming it through the net with a force that sent a violent shudder through the backboard. The crack of the dunk reverberated through the gym, but it was instantly drowned out by the deafening roar of the crowd.” (Part Seven)

I know I’ll never do this justice. I’ve made my peace with that. You made all the magic, and we’re just here to experience it and appreciate it

I’m sorry, Nabi, I’m keeping that giant bean bag for myself because this scene will live in my heart forever. I need a comfy seat to relive it forever

Every time I watch One Tree Hill and a scene where Lucas is shown to make a shot, I think of this scene and I stop breathing for a bit

If there’s anything cheesy input I have for this awesome scene, it’s this: To love is not to diminish, but to thrive. Real love doesn’t burden you, digging its talons into like some scavenger on the hunt, wanting you to bleed. It’s uplifting, helping you sprout wings, letting you soar. (iykyk)

Is it possible for two celestial bodies to share the same sky and almost never touch? Of course, but it’s far from impossible. What easily could’ve been exclusively a story about star-crossed lovers on the courts, Love Me Back recounts the electrifying tale of letting the light into a cold, lonely existence. A defiant testament that even the most patient and loyal of loves can pierce through a never-ending darkness and transcend any pre-determined history.

*Eagle-eyed readers will notice I've left out all the crucial, super sexy scenes. Again, I could never do it justice the way it was intended. Anyone that's made it this far should go read this for themselves. Experience it for the first time. Experience it again for the seventh time. Forever if you'd like (and should). I know I'm hyperbolic, but this truly was a life-changing series for me in more ways than one. GO READ IT!!! CHECK OUT SOPHIE'S WORK!!!*

part two — my response

thank you so much for sending me this beautiful, incredibly detailed review. i genuinely don’t even know where to begin because you’ve given me so much to think about, reflect on, and appreciate. i’m floored by the effort and depth you’ve put into this—it’s clear how much love and attention you’ve given to these characters, and it means the absolute world to me. i’m going to do my best to respond to every point you’ve raised because every single part of this deserves recognition. genuinely i shed tears and i reread everything twice with the biggest adoration and gratitude in my heart. thank you, truly 🖤

mark and y/n: the sun and the north star

this is… breathtaking. i’ve spent so much time in mark and y/n’s heads that i never stopped to consider how they might look from someone else’s perspective. the way you’ve described them, with mark as the sun and y/n as the north star, has given me a new appreciation for their dynamic. the way you see mark—this unstoppable, nurturing, resilient force who somehow turns his pain into warmth and light—is exactly who i’ve always wanted him to be. your observation about how he chooses tenderness over anger, care over destruction, is such an insightful take on his character. and your point about how he sees y/n, how he cuts through her defenses and loves her for who she really is, is just… perfect. you’ve captured their connection better than i ever could.

and then y/n as the north star—i’m speechless. your description of her as a constant, someone who can anchor mark even when everything else is spinning out of control, is so moving. i love that you picked up on how she’s his home, his safe place, the one thing he can always count on. and the way you tied it back to the constellation scene in part two? chef’s kiss. it’s such a thoughtful connection, and it shows how much care you’ve put into understanding their story.

mark’s best friend (nabi)

i love that you’re giving her grace because she’s such a complicated character. everything she does comes from a place of love, even if it’s not always easy to see from y/n’s perspective. the history she shares with mark is so important, and i’m glad you recognized that. her bluntness might rub people the wrong way, but she’s fiercely protective of the people she loves. i can’t wait for you to see more of her in back to you—i think her story will surprise you. and yes, she absolutely deserves a giant bean bag for everything she’s been through (and will go through) ;)

jeno

your thoughts on jeno broke my heart in the best way. he’s such a layered character, and you’ve captured his struggle so beautifully. the way you described him as someone who “loves so hard in the only way he knows how” is spot-on. his relationship with taeyong is such a huge part of who he is, and i love that you see the complexity in that. he’s trying so hard to live up to impossible expectations, and it’s tearing him apart. but at the same time, he’s so compelling because he wants to be better, even if he doesn’t always know how. your comment about seeing yourself in him really touched me—it’s a reminder of how universal some of these struggles can be. i’m so excited for you to see where his journey goes in back to you because he has so much potential for growth.

karina

hot pink and sparkly is such a perfect way to describe her! i love that you see her as this vibrant, energetic presence who reflects the light of those around her. but you’re absolutely right—there’s a vulnerability beneath all that sparkle. she wants to be loved just as much as anyone else, and it’s hard for her to see that kind of love happening around her without feeling like she’s missing out. your hope for her to find someone who celebrates her is so sweet, and it makes me even more excited to explore her character further in future stories.

donghyuck

what would we do without him? he’s such a joy to write, and i’m so glad you enjoy his energy. he brings so much levity to the story, but he also has these moments of surprising depth that i think add a lot to the dynamic. he’s the ultimate hype man, and i hope he continues to bring you as much joy as he brings me.

chenle

your description of chenle as the arbiter of taste made me laugh because it’s so true. he’s the friend who keeps everyone grounded, but he does it in his own teasing, loving way. he’s seen so much of these characters’ journeys, and his perspective is always one i look forward to exploring more.

ningning

queen. fashion™. no notes needed—she’s fabulous, and i love that you love her.

irene & seulgi

your love for these two warms my heart. they’ve both been through so much, but their strength and kindness never waver. i’m so glad you see how much they mean to their sons and to the story as a whole. their moments with mark and jeno are some of my favorites because they’re such a reminder of what love and resilience look like.

taeyong

yes, dishonorable mention indeed. he’s such a looming presence in the story, and i love that you see how his influence casts a shadow over everything. but i also love that you see how mark and jeno are slowly finding ways to step out of that shadow. it’s a journey, and it’s not an easy one, but it’s so rewarding to see them start to reclaim their own lives.

your breakdown of your favourite scenes makes my heart swell with happiness and gratitude. this part alone deserves its own detailed response by myself. and i’m so grateful you had the chance to reflect on these specific moments and their layers. this entire breakdown is a testament to the thought and love you’ve poured into this and your support for me, and i’ll do my best to address everything with the same depth you’ve shown.

“without a second thought, he’s gone, swallowed by the crowd…”

this scene from part one is such a raw, painful moment, and your analysis brought a whole new light to it. you captured y/n’s invisibility perfectly—the way she feels reduced to a shadow, fading away while jeno gravitates toward people who only appreciate the surface level of him. your description of her being “more spirit than star” at this point is so evocative. it’s heartbreaking to think about how little she sees her own worth in this moment, especially when she’s clinging to someone like jeno, who’s equally lost but better at masking it.

and jeno—your take on him is spot on. his retreat into a life he can control, even if it’s fake, mirrors y/n’s own struggles. it’s not that he doesn’t care about her; it’s that he’s too consumed by his own demons to show it in the way she needs. your insight into his carefully constructed reputation and his need for validation is exactly what i hoped readers would see. he’s drifting, yes, but his actions are rooted in fear and an aching need for something real, even if he doesn’t know how to find it yet.

“as the game continues, it’s clear that jeno underestimated his brother…”

i love your breakdown of the lee brothers’ dynamic here, especially the way you compare their journeys to celestial bodies. jeno being trapped in taeyong’s shadow, acting as an extension of his father’s will, is such a painful reality. he’s trying so hard to dominate a world that was never truly his to control, while mark is carving out his own space with quiet, unshakable confidence. your point about taeyong being the real shadow is so profound—he’s the one who’s poisoned their relationship, and both brothers are trying to break free from his influence in their own ways.

mark’s journey, on the other hand, is a testament to resilience and love. he’s had irene and doyoung nurturing his light, and that foundation gives him the strength to thrive in ways jeno hasn’t yet learned. your reflection on how mark’s inner light makes him unstoppable is such a beautiful way to frame his character. he doesn’t need to steal anyone else’s shine because he’s already built his own, and that’s what makes him so magnetic.

“you let your hand rest on top of his…”

this moment is one of my personal favorites because it’s such a quiet, intimate turning point. y/n finally lets herself be vulnerable with mark, and in doing so, she starts to see that she’s not alone anymore. your description of this as “peak intimacy” is perfect—it’s not just physical contact; it’s emotional connection, a promise that mark will hold her through whatever comes next. you’ve captured the gravity of this moment so well, and it’s a joy to see how deeply it resonated with you.

“his smile widened a fraction…”

this scene with the customized record is such a quintessentially 2000s teen romance moment, and i love that you see it as a reflection of y/n’s artistry and her growing connection with mark. it’s such a small gesture, but it speaks volumes about how much thought and care she’s starting to put into their relationship. your call to bring this tradition back made me smile because it’s such a lost art, and it fits y/n and mark’s dynamic perfectly.

“relax,” he says again…”

your take on this photography scene is everything i hoped for and more. y/n, who’s always been behind the camera, finally being seen and celebrated for who she is, is such a pivotal moment. mark’s gaze is transformative here—he’s not just looking at her; he’s showing her that she’s worth being seen, worth being captured. your description of this as her learning to let the light in is so poignant. it’s a moment of trust and intimacy that sets the stage for everything that follows.

karina and her disco ball vibes

your metaphor for karina is both hilarious and heartbreakingly accurate. she’s so used to reflecting the light of others, to being the life of the party, that it’s easy to forget she has her own shine. your empathy for her struggle to feel seen is so touching, and it’s exactly what i wanted to convey with her character. she’s vibrant and dynamic, but beneath all that sparkle, there’s a vulnerability that makes her so human. your hope for her to find someone who loves her for all that she is warms my heart.

“the light in mark’s eyes…”

this reflection on mark’s happiness and y/n’s longing is such a beautiful summary of their dynamic at this point. mark’s joy is infectious, and y/n’s yearning to be part of that light is so relatable. your recognition of karina’s quiet support here is such a lovely touch—it’s a reminder that love comes in many forms, and even when it’s hard, it’s worth fighting for.

“karina doesn’t let up…”

karina’s pep talk in part five is one of the most important moments in the story, and you’ve articulated why so beautifully. she’s not just supporting y/n; she’s challenging her to see her own worth, to believe that she deserves the love mark is offering. your point about y/n finding soulmates in both mark and karina is so moving—it’s a reminder that love isn’t limited to romance, and that we all need people who lift us up and push us to be better.

the lee brothers’ shared defiance

your description of this moment as bravery is so perfect. jeno and mark are finally starting to find common ground, to see each other not as rivals but as brothers who’ve both been hurt by the same man. their shared defiance against taeyong is such a powerful moment of solidarity, and it’s one of the first steps toward healing their fractured relationship.

“you glance back at mark…”

y/n’s lingering doubt here is so poignant, and your reflection on how it ties into her fear of being a burden is spot-on. she’s still learning to trust that she’s enough, that she doesn’t have to dim anyone else’s light to let her own shine. it’s a slow, painful process, but it’s moments like this that show how far she’s come and how much further she’s willing to go.

final thoughts

your last paragraph about letting the light into a cold, lonely existence is so powerful. it perfectly encapsulates what i’ve always wanted this story to be—a testament to the power of love, resilience, and finding your own light. i’m so grateful for your kind words and for the way you’ve shared your own experiences and connections to the story. it’s readers like you who make writing such a joy, and i’m so thankful to have you as part of this journey.

thank you, thank you, thank you for this incredible review. your support and insight mean the world to me, and i’m so excited to share more of these characters’ lives with you in back to you. you’ve truly made my day with this, and i hope my response does justice to the love and care you’ve put into your words.

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