#you carry the pain down there but you also carry the love and the drive and the essence of who you are in the most basic terms | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

julymusings · 2 months ago

Note

Jason is the type of person to put on some shitty romance movie only for his date to fall asleep and for him to get strangely invested.

are you still watching?

i saddle up my horse and I ride into the city. i make a lot of noise 'cause the girls they are so pretty. riding up and down broadway on my old stud leroy, and the girls say...

or; 3 times Jason Todd gets hooked on your television choices [3.7k]

jason todd x fem!reader; this is so real...and so clever!!! i LOVE the concept. i did get a little carried away and lost the plot unforch...pt3 is just a sex dream ab cowboy!jason so. also I apologize for taking forever to respond. tw...klance mentioned💀 & suggestive but not explicit. and i do bash on voltron in pt2 a little but it's all in good fun🫶i did my time with them divider

“Baby, I love you, but if you don’t pick something soon I’ll call Dick in here to entertain us with his backflips.”

“Oh, be quiet,” you huff. Though as you scroll, once again, through all the options on Netflix, you fear his threat may be serious.

You reach the bottom of the page, having found nothing. You peek at Jason from the corner of your eye and hover the cursor over the ‘Back to Top’ button.

“No.” He reaches to grab the laptop from you, but his injuries hinder his usual swiftness. You shriek in objection and roll away to the other side of the bed, computer held tight in your clutches.

“Babe.” He groans. He tries to reach across the bed to you, but his grasp falls short by mere centimeters as you frantically begin another scan of the site.

“I will find something, I promise!” You say. “Just one more minute!”

He rolls his eyes. “You said that ten minutes ago. And I’m the one who’s injured, shouldn’t I get to pick?”

You spare him a glance, pondering over his wrapped foot elevated on a pillow, and the bandages around his torso. His arm has fallen flat on his bed, having given up on its attempt to catch you. That alone should guilt you into saying yes; his childhood bed is just shy of too small for his adult self, so being unable to reach the other end speaks to the severity of his pain. And to add salt to the wound, you know he isn’t exactly fond of staying at his father’s house, but he is in no shape to recuperate alone.

“I would say yes, but you don’t know any good shows! All you watch is Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives.”

He scoffs. “I thought you liked that show!”

You scoff back, imitating him. “I did. But a person can only stand so much of Guy Fieri talking with his mouth full.”

He quiets, probably searching for a rebuttal, but you can’t imagine he’ll find any. You use the opportunity to resume your search unimpeded.

After a few minutes, you perk up. “Ooh, they added New Girl on Netflix!” You scoot back over on the bed to his side, satisfied with your choice.

“What is that?” Jason asks.

You whip your head to him. “You don’t know New Girl?”

He pushes a stray hair behind your ear, eyes narrowed. “Should I?”

Your eyes flit to the computer screen, then back to him, and you sigh. “No, I guess not.”

You’re about to press play on the first episode but stop yourself. “Do you want to choose? You’re already hurting enough, I don’t want to torture you with this too. Besides, I’ve seen it, like, a million times anyway.”

“No, it’s okay.” He turns the computer towards him and presses play. “I don’t need any of my siblings barging in and catching me enjoying Guy Fieri. I’d never hear the end of it.”

You titter at his remark and set your laptop in the middle of you, a little farther away so you don’t have to crane your neck to see the screen. He lifts his arm to drape it around you but struggles with raising it past shoulder level. You meet him halfway by ducking underneath his arm and settling it over your shoulders. He kisses the top of your head in thanks.

Leaning against his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing is too hypnotic for you to focus. Paired with the warmth of his skin, bare so as not to obstruct access to his wound dressings, you are quickly lulled to sleep.

It must be several hours later when movement against you disturbs you from sleep. The room is almost pitch black, save for the dim glow of the computer, still on and resting on your legs a few feet away. The air is thick with late-night silence, and fighting against the heaviness of your eyelids is so laborious that you have to use your hand to pry them open. Jason is squirming next to you, hand outstretched, low huffs of pain slipping from his mouth.

A shot of adrenaline courses through you and you stumble into action.

“What happened? What hurts?” The laptop tips off your legs and falls to the bed, landing on its side as you scramble to your knees and face him. “Should I get someone?”

“What? No, I— I’m fine, why?” He squints at you through the darkness.

“You��” Your throat catches and you take a deep, steadying breath. “It sounded like you were in pain.”

“No, honey, I’m fine. It’s okay. You can go back to sleep.” Jason takes your wrist and gently pulls you back into his side. You don’t budge.

“Then why were you moving?” You scan him for any signs of a worsening injury. Downplaying his own pain is not something you can put past him, unfortunately.

“I…” His eyes look past you for a quick second. He swallows. “I wasn’t,” he says, unconvincingly.

You narrow your eyes at him, then turn around to see what he is looking at, despite his (false) reassurances. Your laptop, still on its side, lies awake and open to the Netflix website. You pick it up to get a closer look at the screen. The player has gone dark, and overcast in white lettering; ‘New Girl: Are you still watching?’

You turn back to Jason, dumbfounded. “You risked hurting yourself…for this?”

Now adjusted to the darkness, you can see his cheeks tinged with pink. “No?”

“Jason.”

“You’re the one who put it on!”

You check the clock in the corner of the screen.

“It’s three AM, Jay. You need to sleep if you want your body to heal.” You argue.

“It wasn’t on purpose!” He defends. “I can’t sleep sitting up, and I need help lying down.” he fails to meet your eyes as he says this.

You cross your arms, tilting your face to catch his gaze. “And what am I doing here?”

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” he mumbles.

You just stare. It takes fifteen seconds for him to break.

“Fine. I was enjoying the show. I wanted to keep watching. Happy?” He punctuates his statement with a shrug but groans through a clenched jaw, remembering the injuries to his upper body.

“Okay, just—” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. “It’s too late for this. Can we please go to sleep?” You don’t wait for an answer, shutting the laptop and placing it on the bedside table.

He leans off the headboard so you can help him shift his body down the bed and lie flat, and you lie down next to him.

“Comfy?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“Need anything?”

“No.”

“Okay. Goodnight,” you whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Jason says quietly.

You snuggle into his side. It’s quiet for a few minutes, but you can tell by his breathing pattern that he’s still awake. He whispers your name into the darkness, hoping you’re still awake.

“Yes, honey?” You answer.

There is a beat of silence. Then, “When do Nick and Jess get together?”

“Go to sleep.”

ii.

Jason leans against the kitchen counter behind him, hands in his pockets, as he watches the microwave dish spin in a slow circle. It whirs under the yellow lightbulb, the flat paper packet puffing up among raucous popping. With sixty seconds left to kill, he searches the cabinets for a large enough bowl to fit the family-size packet of popcorn, as well as the various add-ons you adore.

The first time you invited Jason over for a movie night, in the beginning stages of your relationship, he looked on in wonder as you combined the grocery store’s entire snack aisle into one salty, sugary, buttery abomination in a jumbo Hello Kitty bowl.

“How do you even come up with something like this?” He had asked, ripping open the bag of pretzels as you emptied the fresh batch of popcorn into the bowl.

“Wait!” You stopped him just before he could pour the pretzels in. “Sugary stuff first. While it’s still hot. Then it gets all melty and good.” You dumped an entire bag of mini marshmallows, caramels, and M&M’s in, and gave it a few stirs. “And to answer your question, I was in high school and experiencing intense munchies.”

You gave him the OK to add the pretzels, so he did. “I envy your dentist,” he said, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

Now, with plenty more movie nights under his belt, you trusted him enough to assemble your party mix on his own while you select something to watch.

The microwave beeps. As he rips open the popcorn bag, you yell from the living room.

“Hey, what about The Bourne Identity?” You call out. “Have you—? Wait.” You cut yourself off.

“What’s it about?” He yells back. You don’t answer. “Babe?” He calls again.

“Never mind! I’m gonna keep looking!”

He adds the sugary snacks first, stirring them until they melt, just how you like it. He’s tearing into the bag of pretzels when he hears you shriek.

He drops the bag and bolts to the living room, pretzels scattering all over the counter and floor.

“What happened?” His eyes bounce around the entire room, scanning for any threat.

He’s unsure what he expected to find, but it was a tad more perilous than you simply sitting on the couch, staring open-mouthed at the TV.

“Uh…nothing. Sorry.” Your face flushes. The remote is still raised and pointed at the screen.

“Vol…tron?” Jason reads from the title sequence that plays in the preview window. “Is this some kind of anime?”

“No…sort of, maybe,” you say. “It doesn’t matter. I'm just surprised to see it is all. I loved this show when I was younger.”

“Is it any good?” He asks.

You look to the side, thinking about it. You settle on: “Define good.”

His forehead wrinkles, mouth falling slightly open. “Did you…enjoy watching it?”

“Define enjoy.”

“Okay, forget I asked.” He sighs and goes back to the kitchen.

When he returns a few minutes later, floor pretzels in the trash and counter pretzels swept into the bowl, you’re already watching the first episode.

“This your choice?” He asks. You take the bowl in your lap and he settles down next to you, his arm wrapping around your waist.

“Definitely not. Just wanted to reminisce until you got back.” You frown at the bowl. “Where are all the pretzels?”

He chuckles. “That’s what you get for screaming. Dropped ‘em on the floor.”

You pout. “I didn’t scream. I was surprised. Now the ratio’s off, there’s not enough saltiness to balance the sweetness.”

“Poor baby,” he croons sarcastically. “Only getting a quarter bag of pretzels ‘stead of a full.”

You were going to switch the television to a movie you both liked, but you spent the entire first episode bickering about the important role each ingredient plays in, what you call, “The Party Mix Experience”. The next episode auto-played on its own, and you let it.

During the second episode, you and Jason were absorbed in a competition to see who could catch more flying popcorn pieces in their mouth (Jason), which then devolved into seeing who could dodge more popcorn kernels thrown to the face (also Jason).

By the beginning of episode three, you settled into meaningless chatter while paying half-hearted attention to the TV screen, and by the end, you were laid out on the couch, head in Jason’s lap, while you scrolled on your phone and he stroked your hair. You drifted to a light sleep, coaxed by his fingers scratching at your scalp.

When you wake from your nap, there’s a blanket draped over you and Jason’s hand is still settled in your hair. You push yourself up to sit beside him, speaking through a yawn. “How long was I asleep?”

Jason adjusts the blanket so it covers both of you. “Um…I dunno. Three episodes, maybe.”

“You’re still watching,” you remark, as the end credits for episode six begin to roll.

He says nothing. You both stare as the auto-play timer for the next episode counts down. Next to the remote, his fingers twitch.

You purse your lips, suppressing a grin. “You know, there’s quite an online community for people who like this show.”

“Ha. Were you part of it?” He muses.

“Yup. And I deserve a medal of valor for my time in those trenches.” You kiss his cheek and stand up, stretching your arms. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he says. His voice is low and gravelly with weariness.

You turn toward the bedroom when a call of your name stops you.

“Is it just me, or is something goin’ on between the red guy and the blue guy?”

“Oh, honey,” you sigh. It’s loud and pitying. You bend down to cup his cheek and draw him in for a kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Babe!” He yells after you as you disappear into the bedroom. “You didn’t answer my question!”

iii.

It’s only a Hallmark movie, but with how he’s reacting, it might as well be six hours of paint drying. Jason is not eager to spend his night watching some boring, formulaic cliché, but it's late and you don't have anything better to do.

“That is absolutely not true,” he says when you counter his protests with this excuse.

“It’s two o’clock in the morning, Jay. Is there anything else to do, except sleep?” You rub your tired eyes. Both of you could use some sleep but, burrowed as you are under a pile of blankets, moving all the way from the couch to the bed seems impossible.

He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear. “I can think of a few things.”

His warm breath tickles your neck, and you feel a shiver despite the heat you’ve conserved in your little blanket burrito. The faintest of kisses is pressed behind your ear, and his eyes glint with familiar mischief when he pulls back.

You brush him off, rolling your eyes in amusement. “Do any of those things involve flannel-wearing farmer hunks or the True Meaning of Christmas?”

Turning back to the television, you take the remote from his hands, catching the tail end of a disgruntled mumble about how ‘I can buy a flannel…’

He grumbles a few more complaints during the movie’s first act (‘he’s not even that hunky’) before you scold him to silence. Once he’s quieted, and you settle more comfortably into him, your head is nestled securely in the crook of his shoulder with arms wrapped around his bicep. The warmth of him has you fighting against the tempting call of REM. Right around when the independent, successful, businesswoman protagonist discovers the handsome, flannel-clad man who helped repair her car is also the single father who runs an honest family business, you start to drift off, falling asleep amid thoughts of wearing plaid in the countryside.

You open your eyes to find yourself standing in a vast, open field.

Thump. Thump.

It’s unclear where the sound is coming from, but a splash of red in your periphery stands out. You turn; there’s a barn off in the distance.

Thump.

Your legs carry you in its direction. Growing closer by the second, the thumping sound echoes louder in your ears. When you round the corner of the structure, the front doors are propped wide open by cement blocks, and bales of hay are stacked outside the doors. A large figure, whose back is to you, is lugging a bale by its straps. He hauls it onto his shoulder, and his shirtsleeves tighten around his thick arms. He brings it to the barn, tossing it onto a pile of more hay bales. It lands with that same thump.

When he turns around, it’s in slow motion.

The sleeves of his plaid flannel are rolled up his arms, exposing his large, veiny forearms. Under the flannel, he sports a simple white t-shirt, jeans, and work boots that give him an extra inch of height. His face and chest are shiny with sweat, and his shirt is soaked through. He holds a toothpick between gritted teeth.

It’s Jason. In a cowboy hat.

He takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair. Its dampness makes it stay slicked back rather than settling into its usual shape where little curls are always falling over his eyes. Then, he sees you. A slow, sly grin spreads across his face. He puts his hat back on and removes the toothpick so he can speak.

“Hey there, little lady,” he drawls lazily, the Gotham accent you’re so accustomed to replaced with a southern twang. It does something to you that you’re a little embarrassed to admit. He looks you up and down, pausing above your knee for a split second before continuing.

“Hi,” you say, averting your gaze from where it had zeroed in on a droplet of sweat running down his neck. Your face burns redder than his beautifully sun-kissed cheeks.

He chuckles. “You jus’ gonna stand there or you gonna lend a hand? Compost ain’t gonna turn itself.”

He easily hauls up another bale, and you follow him into the barn.

You watch as he shirks it onto the pile, then repeats with the remaining few bales. He seems to forget you’re standing there as he gets so absorbed in his work, expression tightening in focus. You lean on the wooden post behind you and soak it in; every sound, every flexed muscle, every display of firm strength has you feeling like the air has been punched out of you. He carries the final bale into the barn and his low grunt as he throws it off his shoulder has a swooning sigh escape you. It catches his attention.

Your chest tightens in embarrassment as he prowls closer. He leans over you, hand against the wooden post right above your head. With him this close, a smattering of freckles is visible over the bridge of his nose, likely due to all the sun exposure. Huffing and sweaty, his eyes drag down your face and stop at your mouth. He swallows hard, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

He lifts his free hand to trace over the thin strap of your top. His fingers ghost over the skin, barely touching. “This is pretty,” he says, voice low. “What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ all the way out here?”

And you just can’t help it anymore. You lurch up to him, desperate to close the space between you. You kiss him hard, and he kisses you back, his hand rising from your shoulder to grip the side of your neck. His thumb brushes your jaw, and your hands grip the material of his flannel, yanking it down to bring him even closer. You pull him against you so roughly that your head bumps the post behind you from the force. He smirks, teasing, into the kiss as his hand comes to cup the back of your head.

“Easy, sweetheart. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” After getting his fill from your lips, he slowly graces a path to your neck, kissing, licking, and nipping as he goes. His relaxed leisure perfectly juxtaposes your frantic hunger for him.

You grip his face and pull his mouth back to yours, kissing him with even more fervor. You take his bottom lip between your teeth, biting down with little care for gentleness, and tug at the skin. He groans, and it rumbles deep in his throat. You soothe the spot with your tongue, and your eyes roll back into your head at the salty taste of his skin. As his tongue slides between your lips, he removes the hand that’s leaning onto the post and settles it on the skin of your thigh. It drags upward, feeling every inch of skin on his fingertips before disappearing under the hem of your skirt. At the same time, your hands slide down his body. His touch explores higher, and yours slips under his shirt to ground yourself on the hard skin of his abdomen, which has become slick with sweat.

The sound you make is debauched, coming from the deepest recesses of your stomach. He pulls back, wearing a cheeky smile. He opens his mouth to speak and says—

“Wait, what the fuck?”

You jerk awake. Jason is yelling.

“Why would you go with him?” He exclaims at the TV, and then turns to exclaim to you, “Why would she go with him?”

You stare at him, agape, trying to process your surroundings and asking yourself what just happened.

“Shit. Were you asleep?” Jason puts his outrage on hold.

You nod. “Yeah— yes.” Your voice comes out scratchy and hollow. “I was.”

“Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says. His eyebrows furrow. “Are you hot?”

“What?”

“You look warm.” He presses the back of his hand to your flushed neck. “Is it too many blankets?”

Though his hand is cool, you feel even warmer, the image of his hand gripping that same spot of your neck flashing through your mind.

“I’m…good,” you say. “I think I’ll go to bed.” You dig yourself out of the shell of blankets and stand, but he doesn’t follow.

“Oh.” Jason glances at the TV, which is still in a commercial break. “You— did you want me to come?”

You don’t know what to say.

“The, uh…” He runs a hand through his hair, and you have to stifle a gasp. “The guy from her successful city life tracked her down to the small town to get back together. She said yes.” Then he sighs, sounding genuinely distressed. “There’s no way they’d end it like that, right? He was awful to her!”

At this, you crack a smile. “Do you want to finish the movie, Jason?” A hint of satisfaction seeps into your tone.

He clears his throat. “…Maybe.”

You plop back down on the couch with a hum. He interlaces your fingers and kisses the back of your hand before redirecting his attention to the screen.

“Babe?” You ask.

“Hm?” He answers, not looking away from the movie.

“Do you own any flannels?”

SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOYYYYYYY

love when u leave messages and feedback it feeds my praise kink

for part one: cut to me sitting up in bed shrugging my shoulders over and over again to see which muscles it uses and if that coincides with the injuries i gave him to see if that action causing him pain makes sense (it was inconclusive so i made his injuries vague oopsie)

for part two: the bourne identity (2002) is a movie about a guy named jason who wakes up not knowing where or who he is and somehow has elite training in combat and surveillance, though he doesn't know where it's from. he runs around functioning on pure instinct to survive while getting bits of his memory back, remembering that whoever he worked for was cutthroat, expected him to obey no matter what, and forget the person he used to be before joining their mission. sound familiar?

for part three: cut to me genuinely tweaking while proofreading bc i let my friend read it and so rereading it, knowing that she read it, was so embarrassing. i was screaming into my pillow & it took 20 minutes to get through 2k words bc i had to keep taking breaks. not an exaggeration

If any of you saw me change the theme of my masterlist 5 times yesterday only to change it back to what it was before…no you didn’t

#jason todd #red hood #batman #red hood x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #nightwing #dick grayson #jason todd x you #batfamily #dc universe #dc comics #dcu #dc robin #robin #bruce wayne

1K notes · View notes

motomamita · 3 months ago

Text

farmer!könig × female!reader

warnings: +18, smut, arranged marriage, breeding kink!

könig never thought that the love of his life would take so long to arrive, much less in such a small town where he lived and where everyone knew everyone. but yes, he just turned 30 he found himself totally alone, without a wife, girlfriend or even someone to fuck with without commitments.

being an only child, his parents rushed to find the right woman for him. they had to ensure that their legacy would continue and their lands would be passed down to their future grandchildren.

that's where you come in, also the only daughter of a couple of lumberjacks and with a long list of suitors. although you could choose any boy in the town, your parents quickly paired you with könig, who was the son of the wealthiest family in the place.

you didn't know könig personally but you had seen him from time to time on the streets driving his truck carrying fruits and vegetables to supply the businesses. you knew that he was older than you, not only in age but also in body. he always had a serious face and a look that forced you to lower your head because of how intimidating he was.

your families introduced you one day where they had lunch and talked about how beneficial it would be for both of you to get married. könig didn't contribute much, as he spent all that time looking at your breasts through your dress and biting his lip every time you dared to look into his eyes. neither you nor he spoke to each other.

after that, they organized a small wedding in the garden of könig's family and formalized the union between the two of you. you were now his wife and lived with him in a small house built by könig on his family land. however, the most important thing was missing, an heir.

you both knew that your families would not be calm until they saw you carrying his baby in your womb. that's why you and könig had to get closer to each other, both emotionally and physically. every time he came back from a long day of work, you would wait for him with a jug of fresh orange juice or even a beer. then you would prepare the shower for him, where könig would end up dragging you with him and you would shower together. he caressed your skin with excitement and you did the same but with a certain shyness. however, it never went any further, until now.

one afternoon you were harvesting vegetables from the garden until the presence of könig behind you caught your attention.

"it's time... for us to have a son."

könig was wearing his work shirt with a few buttons open and his blue jeans. he looked agitated, as if he needed you at that moment.

"könig... i, i don't know. i've never done it and i'm a little scared..."

you couldn't finish because könig knelt in front of you and grabbed your hips with his hands.

"please, please, let me fuck you. i can't wait any longer, my love, i need you.."

he begged with some pain in his voice, resting his head on your stomach and almost sobbing. his cock was throbbing inside his jeans and dripping with precum. your heart sank at seeing him so needy, so you accepted.

without wasting time, könig fucked you right there in his garden and on the ground, in a primitive way. your pussy took a while to get used to its size but soon the pain turned into pleasure. könig was on top of you, with your legs over his shoulders and his balls hitting your delicate skin.

"i knew this pussy was worth the wait... fuck, you're so tight."

könig kissed your legs, leaving a trace of his saliva and even lightly biting your skin, lost in pleasure. his grunts accompanied your moans and pleas for him to finish inside you as soon as possible, you were afraid that you would be discovered.

"these juicy tits, they're going to look even better when they're big and dripping with milk... are you going to carry my babies, huh? are you going to be a good mom?"

you nodded your head because your mouth couldn't let out anything but moans. könig increased his thrusts, fucking deep inside you until he filled you with his thick semen.

he gently lay down on top of you, careful not to crush you until his orgasm passed. he carefully pulled out of you, caressing your legs and putting the cum that came out back in with his fingers.

"i have to make sure it catch, mommy."

#könig x reader #könig smut #könig cod #könig call of duty #konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig smut #cod smut #cod x reader #konig cod #farmer!konig #könig #breeding k1nk #arranged marriage

3K notes · View notes

reidrum · 4 months ago

Text

one of me is cute, but two though?

A/N: …no explanation for this i fear. probably ovulating again. stream short n sweet, happy kinktober !

cw: *cracks knuckles* smut 18+ minors dni, softdom!spence, fingering, oral (m receiving), breeding kink, praise kink, marking?, cr**mp*e, edging, aftercare, pet names, mentions of hypothetical pregnancy, fem!reader, a very real research paper that i actually looked up and read, this is filth but at least it’s prn with plot!

wc: 3.2k

summary: spencer can’t wait to have kids with you, in fact he wants to start right now

i love feedback! and talking to people!!! especially about spencer!!! pls interact with me it would make my entire existence okay thank you also this isn’t proofread

Spencer having baby fever wasn’t new to anyone, as the godfather of two of his closest friends’ children and known to be a crowd favorite to the kids at parties, he always had a longing desire to have children of his own to love and raise.

He’ll admit that at the start of your relationship he didn’t know how far the two of you would go, what kind of future was out there for you both. But the more you integrated into his life, his routine, his values, the more he knew for certain he would spend the rest of his life with you.

That brings you to today, you and Spencer were having an errands day making stops at the grocery store and target. As you’ve finished shopping around you both stand in line to checkout, and you’re standing behind a mother holding her little baby staring at you with her big green eyes. Your face melts as you coo gently at the baby, making silly faces and enjoying her little giggles.

A completely normal moment for you, but absolutely world changing moment for Spencer. It’s like something turns primal in him watching you play with the baby. Suddenly he’s picturing you rocking cradles at night, taking your kids—his kids—out to the park, how you’d look with a round belly carrying his child.

He looks at you with an adoration fueled by need, as in he needs to get you home right now before he attacks you in the middle of target.

A gently nudge pulls him from his daydream, “Hey, you okay? Lost you for a second.”

He shakes his head and steps forward to place the items on the conveyor belt and goes up to pay, “Yeah, no I’m okay.” he says mindlessly swiping his card and grabbing the bags.

You furrow your brows and walk to the car, tabling his weird behavior for another time to discuss, “I’m too hungry to question whatever that was right now, can we get pho?”

“Sure, baby. Whatever you want.” He wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your head before getting into the driver’s seat, absentmindedly still thinking about what your little ones would look like.

After you get lunch it’s a short drive home, but Spencer can’t help but wonder how the hell he got to this point. He wanted children with you, and yet you weren’t even married, not even close to it. You had just moved in with him only a few months ago, but he’s still firm in knowing he wants to spend forever with you.

You open the door to the house, Spencer following behind imagining little footsteps pattering throughout the house, a mini you and mini him. He’s so into his daze he doesn’t see the dining table and bangs his hip against it.

He groans in pain as you rush into the room, “Are you okay? I heard a bang.”

“No, I’m fine I just hit my hip.” He winces in pain.

The suspicion from earlier rises again and you can’t help but bluntly ask, “What is going on with you? You’re being spacey and weird with me. If it’s something I did please tell—“

“Do you want kids?” he blurts out interrupting you.

Your eyes widen, “Wh—what?”

Spencer’s eyes widen too, why the hell did he just say that? “I—um…Okay, not as in right this second. But, is that…something you’d want in the future?”

You pause for a few seconds before speaking softly, “Yeah, it is.”

“Okay. Cool.” He tries to say as nonchalantly as someone who downed an espresso shot.

Then it all starts to click for you, the lingering touches, the looks at the store when you’d see little babies, on walks in the park he’d stare into the playground.

“Spencer…do you… want to have kids…with me?” You ask so softly he subconsciously moves closer to hear you better.

He tries to pull every psychology and behavior tactic he can to read the expression on your face, to decipher what you’re truly feeling, but he comes up empty and is left to grapple with the emotions of the moment on his own.

“Are you mad?”

“Mad? Oh baby, no I’m not mad. Just a little surprised, I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” You move to stand right in front of him at arm’s length, to let him know you’re right there, that you’re always there.

“How could I not? You are so beautiful, kind, and smart. I think I’d be the luckiest dad in the galaxy if my kids turned out like you.” He says softly, grabbing your hand to thumb at the palm in a soothing manner, more to calm his nerves than yours but it’s really working both ways. You couldn’t look any softer to him than right then.

He continues, “I’m sorry if I made things awkward, but I love you, and I want a future with you. House, kids, taxes, all of it.”

You fake gasp, “Even taxes?”

“Especially taxes,” He smiles as he plays into your dramatics, “Like I said, I don’t mean right now. I know there’s like thirty steps we have to take before then. But I’m here for all of it.”

“Spence…” You tearfully smile, “I love you, and I want all of it too.”

Spencer couldn’t be more happy as he slowly leans in to kiss you, lingering so you know just how happy he is. He pulls back and peppers kisses all over your face while you giggle, “Okay, okay!”

He presses one last big kiss on your forehead, cartoonish noise and all, and he wraps you up in his arms tightly.

“So…did something happen today that made you tell me?” You ponder. Of course you’d been thinking about a future with Spencer. but you didn’t know that he felt the same way, and so seriously at that.

He mumbles into your shoulder, “You were playing with that baby in the Target checkout line. And I’m not kidding, all day I couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d look like carrying our child.”

You grin wickedly, “You really wanna knock me up that bad, huh?”

“Sweetheart, you have no idea the restraint I had today to not pounce on you in the middle of the store. I would have risked the life ban in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah?” You glide your finger down his chest, “What did you wanna do?”

Spencer smirks, seeing the game you’re playing. “Well, I was thinking about this book I read on the best positions for maximum fertility.”

“So you read porn—“

“It’s not porn!” He chuckles, “It’s a real scientific study they did in Cambridge about if different positions induce fertility due to the variances in angle of the male ejaculation, and whether it would increase the rate of fertilization. It was actually really fascinating. They had the subjects do it inside the MRI machine.”

You can’t help but feel flustered, “I can't believe that turned me on.”

“I also know that you’re ovulating right now, so all your sexual senses are heightened.”

“I know I should find that funny, but it’s actually so fucking hot that you know that.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders to bring his head closer to your ear as you whisper, “Wanna go try them out?”

Spencer’s eyes darken and he immediately reacts, “Jump.” holding your thighs up so you can wrap your legs around his waist. You giggle a little above his head, cupping it with both hands as you lean down to kiss him while he walks to your bedroom.

He tosses you onto the bed with a squeal before working his shirt off, watching you slowly peel your own shirt off and shimmy out of your pants leaving you bare in a bra and panties.

He lets out a groan, “I think you’re trying to kill me.” He climbs over your body and leans down to attack your neck, one hand holding one of yours above your head the other trailing its way down. A finger traces the outline of your panties, pressing down on the wet patch near your entrance.

You moan languishly and he smirks at your reaction, “I got you, okay baby? Gonna make you feel so good.”

His finger finally slides past the fabric and makes contact with your cunt, gathering the slick and spreading it all over you. Breathless moans escape you, and by the time you’re used to one finger the fucker adds another finger and rests his thumb on your clit drawing soft circles.

The feeling of his fingers sliding so easily in and out of you is terrifyingly intoxicating, and you can’t seem to get enough. He can feel you squeezing his fingers and by your increased moans he knows you’re close, “C’mon pretty girl, you can do it.”

The little praise he gives you is enough to send you over the edge, and you’d be embarrassed at how easily it affected you if you weren’t so overcome with coming down from your peak. You slowly regain your bearing through heavy breaths and look up at him above you with hooded eyes, “Jesus, Spence.”

A wide smirk plasters on his face as he stands up from the bed, “Just getting started baby.” He makes work of his belt buckle and slides it off while you crawl over to help him with pulling his zipper down. You tug his pants down enough to expose his bulge, and you lightly palm him through his boxer.

A deep groan rumbles through his throat, his hands coming up to gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail as watches you slowly pull him out of boxers. He’s achingly hard, tip red and throbbing. You coo at him, “Poor thing, must’ve been painful today keeping this in, when all you wanted to do was come inside me, hm?” a strangled noise leaves him as you continue, “I know you really wanna sink your dick in me, but can I have just a little taste?”

The doe eyes you give him as you speak your lewd words has him nearly teetering over the edge and you haven’t even put your mouth on him yet. He nods vigorously, not trusting words to do him good and watches himself slowly disappear down into your throat, further and further back until he hits something hard and you gag a little. He mutters a sorry that sounds like a half cry half moan, but the way his hips are subconsciously thrusting into you and the hand that’s gripping your hair guiding you so, tells you he might not actually be that sorry.

“Fu—uu—uck.” his head tilts back as the overly enunciated curse flies out of his mouth. Your head bobs with a ferocity on his cock, using your hand to pump whatever you can’t comfortably fit into your mouth. Spencer thinks this is what heaven must be like, that you an angel personified have brought the pearly gates down onto the Earth and blessed him with your mouth.

You continue to take him into your throat for a few more seconds before you feel a sharp tug on your hair that wasn’t meant to hurt but might’ve felt that way with how desperate Spencer needed you off of him.

“What happened?” you ask, voice raspy and confused.

He breathes heavily, “Don’t wanna come in your mouth.” you giggle and sit up on your knees and Spencer closes the distance by reaching for your head in both hands and pulling you in for a long kiss.

“Turn around.” he whispers low, gently pushing you onto your stomach the second your back is to him. The anticipation builds as you can hear him remove the remainder of his clothing, and he climbs over you to unclip your bra and gently pull your panties over and off your legs.

He tosses them to the side and returns to looming above you while you’re splayed out on your stomach in front of him. You get on your forearms and arch your back, letting your ass and cunt be on full display for him knowing this was a position he loved. He can’t help himself but lean forward and swipe his tongue through your folds, groaning at how sweet you taste.

When he pulls off of you, you’re fully expecting his next move would be to finally be inside you. What you don’t expect, is him backing up a little and pulling your legs back towards him so you’re back to lying fully flat on the bed. Before you even have a chance to question him he’s crawling back over you and lowering his head to whisper hotly in your ear, “Have you ever tried this one?”

The long and soft whine you let out goes straight to his cock as he lines himself up at your entrance and slowly pushes in. Pushing past the folds of your cunt that wraps so perfectly around him, he’s in awe watching it enter you. You, on the other hand, are on a different planet from the feeling the new position is giving you. He’s deeper than he’s ever been in you, reaching spots you didn’t even know existed, his hands pressing onto your back so hard you know there’s going to be imprints later.

The moans escaping from you are consumed by the sheets beneath you, his pace unrelenting as he holds you in place and ruts into you.

“Spence..” you whine softly.

The weight of his hands press your body further into the mattress as he leans down right next to ear and whispers hotly, “Yeah, baby?

The emotions builds in you fast and the need to kiss him becomes stronger, “Wanna see you…Need to see you.”

His hips stutter at the tone of your voice, so whiny and desperate, all for him. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky, how he became the object of all your desires, how everyday you wake up and it’s him you choose repeatedly, and will continue to choose for the rest of time. You’ve always loved him, it was a fact you made sure that he knew every single day.

When he flips you over with a gentleness, he leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, hoping that the synergy flows between your contact and you can feel it in every nerve ending, just how in love he is with you. He think you got the message as he watches you move your hand between your bodies to grab at his cock and slowly guide back inside you while you both watch him push fully into you again.

He looks down between your bodies and watches his cock move in and out of you, mesmerized by the ring of slick that reappears with every pull out. It’s nearly automatic the way his thumb reaches for your clit and moves his eyes upward to watch you completely unravel at the hands of his touch.

Your brows are furrowed together in pleasure, “Fuck…’m close.” you mutter through a whine.

His hips snap to meet yours rapidly, “Yeah? Me too…” he taps your leg to lift it onto his shoulder, deepening his angle and circling you around the throes of your release. He grunts out, “Gonna let me put a baby in you?”

You clench down on him hard with a loud moan, neither of you expecting the effect his words had on you. Spencer chuckles and bends down to press love bites into the crook of your neck before trailing back up to your ear and whispers, “Didn’t think you’d be into me talking like that…you really want everyone to know who fucks you good every night? Want them to see you walk around with our baby in your belly?”

Your moans are uncontrollable at this point, it’s a miracle you can still hear him over the incoherent, borderline babbling sounds you’re making. He doesn’t relent as his hand slides up your neck to grip your jaw to hold your head in place, “Say it, I wanna hear you say it.”

A whimper falls out of you, “I—fuck—I want y—you…”

His hips slow down their pace, “Not good enough, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.”

The tiniest panic rises in you at the thought of him stopping, “No, don’t stop! Spencer, please. I want a baby, please want it all with you, please, please.” You realize in that moment you were never above begging to begin with, not when he’s between your legs offering you the world from the comfort of your sheets.

His pace quickens and groans at your pleas, leaning down closer so he’s chest to chest with you, “Oh, sweet girl,” he pants, “You’ll look so pretty carrying our kid, gonna drive me crazy watching you walk around.”

A string of moans trail out of your mouth, encompassed by the feeling of him inside you, the thoughts of your future together only adding to the intensity of the moment.

You weakly breath out, “Come inside me, please. Wanna make you a daddy.”

That was all Spencer needed to hear reach his peak and release into your cunt, rhythmic moans punctuating every thrust. Your grip on him tightens as you squeeze out every last drop of him. He feels himself become soft and gently pulls out, watching his come drip out of your hole. With a whimper he delicately picks up the excess with two fingers and enters you again, eliciting a languished whimper to match his.

“I know, I know, baby. Did so good for me, ‘m so proud of you.” he mumbles, watching the white coat his fingers as they move inside you. “Can you give me one more? Just one, I promise. Look so pretty like this, I can’t help it.”

You’re about to protest, feeling the sensitivity get the better of you when the pleasure hits again, another moan escaping you clearly telling him you can take it.

It’s a softer orgasm this time, a smaller peak but still lust filled and has you panting heavily as you come down from it. Spencer finally collapses on the bed next to you, his chest also heaving.

“You okay, baby?” he mumbles after a few minutes.

Words can’t fulfill you right now and all you can offer is a nod as you lazily lull your head over to him. He nods and reluctantly gets up from the bed despite your pout with a promise to be so quick, and returns with a wet cloth, a water bottle, and a fresh set of clothes for you. You let him gingerly clean you up before he helps dress you and slips right back into place beside you with a kiss to your temple.

“I love you…so much,” he whispers while pulling you into his embrace, “I really can’t wait to start a family with you.”

You hum contentedly, tilting your head up to press a kiss to his jaw, “I love you too.”

A few moments pass before he speaks again, “But…you’re still—“

“Still on birth control, baby. Don’t worry.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #kinktober #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid

2K notes · View notes

bwat5-blog · 2 months ago

Text

Pivotal moments for Caitlyn Kirraman

**Spoilers for all of Arcane**

Much Like Vi I wanted to do a run-down of the moments for Caitlyn's character I see as showing us who she is/having the biggest impact for her character. As always I appreciate anyone who takes the time to read these as well all celebrate these amazing characters and story. I feel Caitlyn's arc was massively under-appreciated in season 2 by the fandom and hope this lends itself to backing that up.

*Side Note- I'm doing these in order in her life not necessarily how we see them in the show*

Helping Jayce:

We are not granted a lot of time with young Caitlyn when compared to say, Vi or Jinx, which makes sense of course given the focus of the story. However, what we are given perfectly demonstrate the bedrock of who we come to know. She is shown as bright and curious and eager, helping him carry supplies to the lab. She is also shown even at a young age standing up for Jayce to her parents, sitting out in the rain to speak with him, and as shown above, identifying herself as a misfit. Now on the surface its easy to say she falls into the "rich kid who doesn't belong" trope. But as we come to know her she is truly so much more than that.

Who Do You Shoot For?:

Building on Caitlyn's compassion and defiance in the face of the system she is born into, we have her shooting competition with Grayson. First of all we just get a glimpse into the tough, skilled marksman she will become. But going deeper, we have her interaction with Grayson at the party. Once again she demonstrates that ever-so-polite defiance, humorously confronting the sheriff of Piltover for letting her win. But its their conversation after that's important. The sheriff tells her being skilled with her rife means protecting people, and Caitlyn must decide who she is shooting for. I would liken this to Vi's lessons with Vander. Because while we see Caitlyn go through so much pain and darkness, ultimately when she finds her way back who is she? A leader will go toe-to-toe with anyone for those she wants to protect. For those she shoots for.

The Airship incident:

This our first real moment with Caitlyn as a character and it tells us several important things about her. Leading up to it, we learn her parents disapprove of her being an enforcer, and manipulated her posting to keep her close by for which she is resentful. This is not surprising, as we come to learn her genuine drive to help and make a difference. She goes to investigate the airship alone. We see her detective's mind at work for the first time, playing out the incident. We then see her interaction with a massive, tattooed undercity criminal who is wounded. She is kind, gentle and respectful despite her role as an enforcer. Furthermore, when Marcus confronts her, he says she's interfering AGAIN. Caitlyn may be naïve and sheltered when we meet her, but she is not PLAYING at being an enforcer. She wants to help, and is actively trying to figure out what's going on in the undercity, apparently long before she even meets Vi.

The Hexgem theft:

This marks Caitlyn's first interaction with Jinx, which could not be more important to her Arc. Her very first impression of the woman she could never have known would impact her life so greatly, is a manic terrorist who lights a building on fire and fakes that a child is trapped inside before setting off bombs that kill multiple of Caitlyn's peers. Also of note, although not unexpected with what we have seen from her so far is that she rushes in to help and is the first one to notice the danger despite being a rookie enforcer.

Meeting Vi:

Meeting and freeing Vi is Caitlyn first step into the wider world around her and has immeasurable impact on her character. Her love story with Vi aside (I love it to, its just I could write pages on them alone and I am trying to cover all of her arc in this post haha) we also see her head strong, determined nature in this moment. Remember, she has already been reprimanded for unauthorized investigations into Silco and the undercity. We have been told she has a history of this. When Jayce goes to see her after the explosion she is still investigating, and now she fakes Jayce's authorization to free a woman she doesn't know in order to chase her lead. SHE. WILL. NOT. QUIT. Sound like she may be a good fit for a certain head strong boxer who lacks patience but is always honest? Anyway, the other thing we see here that is a small moment and not unexpected given what we have seen from her, is her disgust and discomfort over how the prison has treated Vi.

Saving Vi Part 1:

Vi is almost certainly about to be killed when Caitlyn intervenes. She accurately strikes Sevika multiple times with her rifle and is controlled and calm. At a first glance her accuracy and skill are plenty commendable. She hits the same spot with accuracy, lands with clear athleticism to join Vi, is calm, collected, confidant and restrained enough not to Kill Sevika. As soon as the threat is passed she tends to her wounded ally. Now here's the thing. I didn't do a bullet point for it, but consider Caitlyn's behavior following Vi down into the lanes. Part of it is of course that it was unfamiliar and shocking when vi took off, and Caitlyn just wasn't used to that sort of thing. But she was kind of adorably clumsy and unsure. She never really moves with confidence and strength, until of course she pulls our a rifle and starts blasting a woman who just stabbed her new friend with pint point accuracy three times. The moment someone's life is at risk Caitlyn shows us this entirely new side of herself. Perhaps the side of her that will someday lead the front lines in the battle of Piltover?

Saving Vi part two:

n Caitlyn's continuing efforts to save Vi we delve deeper into what we have already seen from her. At the very basic level, she barely knows Vi. Yes of course we are seeing the beginnings of their feelings for each-other. But that aside she is a young woman in her early twenties. She has followed this woman she barely knows into this very dangerous place, saved her from being killed, followed her even deeper while caring for her, and now she follows a shimmer mutated Huck to the "Doctor" to save Vi. I went to Netflix and counted while writing this. It takes no more than ten seconds for her to surrender her prized rifle that is likely custom made for her and she clearly loves, all to save Vi's life. She then hugs the grotesquely mutated Huck out of gratitude after being kind to him, and showing him respect for his help. She does not shy away, is not disgusted. And in fact she lunges for the hug. This ties to her conversation with Vi during this ordeal before she gives up her rifle. In which she is speaking on her belief that Zaunites and Topsiders are all just people. She does not see them as different.

The Firelights:

To me this is a massively important point for Caitlyn for a few reasons.

Caitlyn & Vi: They start off bickering. Blaming each other for what they have played close to the vest. But as soon as Vi is taken away what does Caitlyn do? She is concerned and afraid for her. And when she sees Ekko she demands Vi be released and offers herself instead.

in General: She speaks to her desire to see an end to the killing. Its clear she hasn't known how bad things actually are with the enforcers and the undercity, and is understandably resistant at first. But after only a few moments, she acknowledges Ekko would be within his rights to keep the gemstone but "The Cycle of Violence Will Never Stop" (sound familiar?). She quickly agrees to let Ekko be the one to give the stone to the council, still believing in peace and trying to play a part in making it happen.

**Side note: I didn't do a whole point on it because it's really about Vi and Jinx. But we need to make note that before this Caitlyn has her second interaction with Jinx in which Jinx shows herself to be paranoid, unstable and violent**

The Bridge:

The attack on the bridge is immensely impactful on Caitlyn's character and what I like to think of as the true beginning of Caitlyn's destabilization, leading to her descent into the dark. Thus far, we have watched this extraordinary young woman weather some truly insane events when you consider the life she has lead until now. Even still, she has remained poised, brave, respectful and open. Of course she has heard talk about brutality of her people toward the undercity. She has admitted it was wrong and wants to see things made right. But that is very different than the highest member of her organization shooting her new friend in the chest and getting ready to kill her. Its a sudden and violent in-the-moment thrusting of reality upon her that she has no choice but to believe. Furthermore, we mark her next interaction with Jinx, who has now almost killed her a third time, as well as almost killing Vi and they believe having killed Ekko and who knows how many enforcers.

Testifying To The Council:

So I know I am repeating myself some here. But that is intentional. The show is driving home for us that Caitlyn is truly a good person. Everything she has been through up until now with Vi is intense, scary, and destabilizing. She and Vi have very real feelings for each other and we end this section with very sad moment in which it seems hopeless for them. But its leading up to that I want to discuss. Caitlyn stands before the council of Piltover. The richest and most powerful people in her immediate world. With her mother on the council it feels reasonable to assume she knows these people. They probably have watched her grow up. And yet in her early twenties after earning the knowledge the hard way what does she do? She stands before them and calls them out for their failures. Including herself in that. She takes a stand against the neglect by Piltover that made the people of the undercity vulnerable to dangerous criminals. She commends Vi for putting herself at risk in helping Caitlyn, and never throws Vi under the bus as Jinx's older sister. And when Vi gets upset and leaves Caitlyn tries to get her to stay still insisting their must be a way.

Abduction From Home/Dinner Party:

In her next interaction with Jinx, Caitlyn is taken from the safety of her own home, and held hostage until Jinx initiates her dinner party with Vi. The events of the dinner party set the stage for the next chapter of the story dramatically affecting every character we meet, and Caitlyn is no exception. As this is the end of season 1, a brief refresher of who we have come to know up until this point is in order:

Clever, bright and loyal young girl who will defy convention to stand up for those she loves

Tenacious and dedicated teenage girl who doesn't want to earn her victories and is pondering things like who she is shooting for

Dedicated rookie enforcer who will not be deterred from investigating wrong doing and corruption no matter the cost

Open minded and trusting young woman in her early twenties who saves someone she barely knows life, even at the cost of her prized weapon and her own safety multiple times

Displays her desire to see peace with the undercity multiple times and verbally equates the undercity and topsiders in terms of humanity going against the classist behavior of characters like Marcus for example.

Treats Vi with tenderness, loyalty and trust even before they really get to know each-other.

Now. The reason I ran that down again is because THAT young woman in her early twenties is the person you see in the GIF above you. Jinx has now tried to kill her repeatedly. Killed her fellow enforcers. Tried to kill the woman she is having feelings for, even though that woman is her sister. Has abducted her from her bathroom naked, and now has her here. She looks utterly and completely terrified and I don't blame her. And to top it all off, after hesitating to take a shot at Jinx due to her feelings for Vi, Caitlyn is knocked out violently and THEN HAS TO WATCH JINX KILL HER MOTHER.

RETURN TO PILTOVER:

Caitlyn and Vi return to the upper city in the wake of immense tragedy and we see Caitlyn trying to hold it all together. Her whole world has gone black & White except for Violet(s). She is trying so hard to keep it together but already we can see the cracks forming. Even with all that has happened she maintains her testimony of Jinx being the only issue which is instrumental in preventing more violent Piltover retaliation. But we must also recognize her (totally understandable just jarring) desire to end Jinx's laugh forever, Mel's comments to Jayce regarding Caitlyn hiding it well but being in "So Much Pain", and Caitlyn asking Vi to put on the uniform of an Enforcer, when she knows Vi's history. Caitlyn is suffering and trying to hard to hold things together.

The Memorial Attack:

Caitlyn is drowning in grief. Her relationship with Vi is tenuous. She is expected to rise to meet her mothers role in city. She is holding on for dear life to her ideals and perceptions of reality that have shaped her as a person. Now the attack on the memorial is incredible as a fan for many reasons. But for Caitlyn we need to keep two things in mind as we move forward that at extremely impactful in understanding her:

There is no reason to think she and the others would not assume that Jinx had ordered this attack, or at the very least assisted in some way. The last they saw of Vi's sister she had just struck at the very heart of Piltover's government and its entirely reasonable to assume this attack is an extension of that. So I think its fair to say we can consider this Caitlyn's next interaction with Jinx even if its all mental.

Up until now, Caitlyn has never used any broad-stroke negativity toward the people of the undercity. She has addressed individuals, or perhaps a specific group of people in the undercity such as Silco's goons. But never called them Trenchers, Sump rats or any of that other stuff. Here in her rage, we see her refer to the people who attacked as Animals. Now in the moment, its entirely reasonable when pertaining to the attackers. But it is a noticable shift in her that tells us she is already (quite understandably) being swallowed by what happened.

The Strike Team:

Caitlyn leading the strike team into Zaun and utilizing the grey has been the source of much controversy. Its a clear escalation in her willingness to do violence against the undercity but when you consider everything we have talked about its hardly a shock. However, this show does a good job of letting us know Caitlyn is not totally lost to her pain. All we have to do is think critically:

While the use of the grey is extremely dark and absolutely morally questionable, the fandom's decision to portray it as mustard gas/sarin/pick your lethal poison is nonsense. We have seen multiple characters exposed to it multiple times and live. Its debilitating in the moment and uncomfortable and I'm sure is unhealthy over long exposure. Its tear gas.

Caitlyn's small targeted force is the alternative to full-scale invasion with hex tech armed enforcers. As I have said in various posts, by this point in the story Piltover retaliating is not an if. its a when and how bad. Caitlyns plan is the only reason an army of Enforcers does not march into the undercity at this point.

All that to say this. While she is clearly heading down a dark path, excising the hyperbole of the fan-base determined to demonize her and taking into account the whole of the circumstances surrounding this part of the story we are shown Caitlyn is still in there. But she is losing the fight with her inner-demons.

The Kiss:

We all cheered here. I did. You know you did. But I think we all knew the heartbreaking truth here as well. It was far too late for her to keep her promise to Vi. And in truth, it wasn't a fair thing for Vi to ask (BEFORE YOU COME FOR ME- Vi is my favorite character, and I have written extensively in her defense against the absolutely inane criticisms people have been levelling at her character). It's not Vi's fault, she has lost everyone she loves and is terrified watching the last person she has left be warped by the darkness in their lives. But when you consider the totality of paradigm-shifting suffering Caitlyn has endured since meeting Vi, I don't know how anyone couldn't change.

I have seen people say that Caitlyn was wrong to promise Vi. Wrong to kiss her in this moment. Those people are holding these characters to unreasonable standards in the extreme. We are seeing Caitlyn trying for the woman she loves. She sees the vulnerability and fear in Vi, the woman she loves so much, who she has been through so much with (and who has donned the Enforcer uniform for her) and of course she has a surge of love and a desire to comfort Vi. The love and tenderness is undeniable. But when you take in the context of the situation, It feels like we are waiting for the floor to fall out from under us. AND BOY DOES IT.

The Battle/The Break up/The Rise of the Commander:

I group these together because really its the transition of Caitlyn as we know her into "The Commander". This whole section is in a word, heartbreaking. We see Caitlyn fighting tooth and nail against Sevika, she likely saves Vi's life as it seems like Isha's gun was going to go off (whether the child meant it to or not), and Vi stops Caitlyn from taking the shot. Leading to Caitlyn lashing out in the worst way, telling Vi she is no different than the woman who killed Caitlyn's mother (AKA the version of Vi's sister Caitlyn knows Vi carries immense guilt over) and ending her status as the only enforcer never to abuse Vi, leaving her holding her stomach and crying on the floor while Caitlyn abandons her. We then see Caitlyn chosen as the commander, taking her place by Ambessa's side, becoming someone who would betray everything she used to stand for .

Its easy to look at this, and feel anger at Caitlyn. Especially as someone who has always connected with Vi's character and as someone who really loves their love story it leaves you feeling violated. But that's the thing, it should. We are not watching Caitlyn choose power out of a desire to destroy her enemies or because she thinks she deserves it. We are watching the tragic culmination of this brave, compassionate, brilliant and tenacious young woman being swallowed by the darkness. What's the line from Hamilton? "There are moments when your in so deep, it feels easier to just swim down". She has lost her mother, her sense of safety, her belief in the system of law and order she has lived her whole life by, and now the woman she loves. And in swoops Ambessa, a warlord. A woman renowned for her cleverness and manipulation. She takes this vulnerable, grieving, isolated and angry young woman and tells her she will get her justice. Caitlyn never had a chance.

**A small pause to discuss grief and peoples absolutely insane take on Caitlyn's handling of hers**

I am going to take a second here before we move on because due to the rushed pacing of season 2 Caitlyn doesn't get the detail she should have after this point, and because the discussion of her loss and grief is essential in understanding how this all happened. This is one of those things I have written about before but peoples dogmatic opposition to media literacy continues so here we go! "Ku Klux Kirraman!", "Oh the people of the undercity live in constant pain and death but Caitlyn loses a single family member and starts gassing kids?!"

To put it simply my friends. Grief is not a contest. Yes, of course the people growing up in the undercity have a much better understanding of death and grief than Caitlyn. up until the events of this story, she has lived a life of peace, and privilege, and comfort . And that's not a bad thing. ideally all children would know such a life if we could work our will upon the world right? But what it means for her is that when she does experience that loss, to say nothing of it being at the hands of a woman who has tried to kill her repeatedly, tried to kill the woman she loves, killed her peers, and abducted her naked from her own bathroom, Caitlyn's entire world is shifted. I have mentioned multiple times during this whole thing. She is only in her early twenties. That is so young.. so fucking young to have your world shift SO VIOLENTLY in such a short time. And in the standard incredible fashion of this show, they have addressed this concept already. Remember this?

Vi is angry at Jayce for bowing out due to the under city child's death. And for her, for the way she grew up she is totally justified in feeling that way. She grew up surrounded by death. But its just too much for Jayce.

I sincerely hope all of you reading this never have to cope with the loss of a loved one but we all know that's not reality. So if you are one of the people demonizing Caitlyn for what happens here because Zaunites have it worse I'll ask you this. The last time you lost someone, did you chastise yourself because someone somewhere has it worse? No. Because that's unreasonable, illogical, and would be a cruel standard to hold yourself to. Grief is achingly, agonizingly personal to each of us. And while it does not justify Caitlyn's actions, you are simply blind folding yourself to the humanity of this character by ignoring it

Months as the Commander:

As I said unfortunately we don't get to see a lot of Caitlyn "as the commander" but we do learn some things. There are check-points in Zaun, they are imprisoning people, and under the oppressions she has allowed to flourish the Noxians are able to do things like violently arrest people for having a non-violent rally in the Undercity itself. THINGS ARE NOT GREAT. But there some things of note I want to discuss in understanding Caitlyn's state of mind during this time:

The top GIF is not long enough but watching the scene you can see how distant Caitlyn is, how cold. She is not a "happy-go-lucky" facist gleefully imposing her will. We are actively watching someone in so much pain and so buried by her mistakes she doesn't know how to find her way out.

2. All is not lost however. She discusses her issues with the Noxians behavior, she openly questions Ambessa, she has forbidden the use of the cells where she found the love of her life, and despite her mentor's glee over the opportunity to utilize Singed and his knowledge. Caitlyn knows him for what he is, a monster.

Reunited With Vi:

The pacing just takes off at a dead sprint once Vi and Caitlyn find each other so I will touch briefly on the various points I want to for this section. I will say this, I know we all have feelings on how they handled Vi and Caitlyn's reconciliation. I am of the opinion that it was justified by what they showed us completely, but it was still rushed. Like they got the right answer on the math question but only shared the basics of every step to solving it if that makes sense.

Saving Vander

Vi and Caitlyn have this first interaction after so long and its so clear they have both changed so much. But what matters is this. Even after everything Caitlyn has done, Vi trusts her with the truth (Because Vi refuses to give up on those she loves), and Caitlyn immediately is on board. This happens so quickly and we only see them discuss it a little, but we need to think about what this means. Caitlyn finds out the "Weapon" is Vi's dad, and she is ready to turn on Ambessa, the enforcers with her, and the whole system. All for the woman she loves

2. The Battle of the Commune:

So I couldn't find a good GIF for it but even before this moment while Caitlyn is angry when she sees Jinx she doesn't make a move toward her. Then we hit this moment here. If you flash back to the battle that ended in Caitlyn breaking Vi's heart, Caitlyn wanted to take a shot that very likely could have killed a child if it meant hurting jinx. Now Jinx is running with her back to Caitlyn and ALL she cares about is getting to Vi

3. Taking Accountability:

We find out in this confrontation that although Jinx is in jail, it is because she surrendered. Not because Caitlyn ordered it. We also have a few key examples of Caitlyn owning what she has done:

"I KNOW!"- when confronted by Vi over letting Ambessa poison her heart

"We can't erase our mistakes"- She doesn't say "Jinx" can't take back her mistakes. She says "We" and "Our". She is clearly remorseful.

This rolls directly into her conversation with Jinx in which we see even more that Caitlyn knows what she has done:

"No good deed can erase OUR crimes"- Once again holding herself to the same standard as the woman who killed her mother. Holding herself accountable

"I've hated myself"- This could literally not be more clear

*On Cait and Jinx*: I've touched on this before but the parallels between these two are phenomenal. Broken, vulnerable, isolated grieving young women taken in by older, cleverer mentors with their own agendas but who care about them directing their pain for their own purposes. They then both have to learn to end the cycle, or the killing will never stop. Damn this show is so good.

Freeing Jinx:

Caitlyn made a lot of mistakes. That's not a secret. There were reasons as I and many and others have explained. But in this moment, she has intentionally paved the way for the woman she loves, to free her little sister from Jail. This comes after Cait admitting she doesn't want to hate Jinx any more. The cycle has to end. And Caitlyn admitting she has made mistakes, she has hated herself, she has lost herself to the darkness she now knows she has inside as well. And on top of that, she is here showing Vi that Vi is not alone, that Vi is loved, and that she knows Vi so well she knew what she would do and tried to help. its beautiful, its heartwarming, and after watching who Caitlyn was be shattered into pieces, we are now seeing her re-forged, stronger and more beautiful.

Commander Indeed:

Here we have Caitlyn becoming the commander she should have been. I believe I saw a post that one of the voice actors of the show suggested Caitlyn did nothing during the final battle and got her happy ending. Lets recap shall we:

Leads her troops from the front

Tries to take out Ambessa early and spare bloodshed

We have the bad-ass scene of her fighting with the mask taking out multiple soldiers

Even with a rifle at the back of her head she disables Maddie and tries to take out Ambessa

With a knife in her side and exhausted and scared she challenges A WARLORD OF NOXUS to a fight. "Shut Up and Fight!"

Sacrifices her own eye to take Ambessa out of the fight.

This is all pretty clear cut but I mean god damn. Her character evolution is absolutely staggering.

The End:

Caitlyn ends her story (for now anyway.. looking at your Riot) with the woman she loves. She has surrendered her spot on the Council to Sevika officially granting the undercity a place at the table. And we see her pondering the hex-gate ventilation system, perhaps giving us some hope that Jinx will return as well. I totally understand there are things people wanted to see with Caitlyn that we didn't get to see. But all we can control is what we were given. And when you look at the story of Caitlyn Kiramman, Born in wealth and privilege but with dreams of helping people, to being swallowed by grief, to finding common ground with the woman who took her mother from her, to rising as a leader who doesn't ask her people to fight when she won't and who willingly sacrifices herself for those who look follow her, I'd say she has one hell of an arc. I hope I did her some justice. This actually ended up being longer than i planned but man the more I think about her the more in-depth her story gets. I appreciate all of you.

#arcane season 2 spoilers #arcane season 1 #caitvi #caitlyn kiramman #arcane

1K notes · View notes

indulgentdaydream · 1 year ago

Note

Can you write something where the reader is badly injured in some way and jason rushes her to the manor for help and everybody is confused on who she is bc they didnt even know he was in a relationship (despite them being together for awhile) but they see how soft and cute he is with her. (I’ve never made a request so sorry if it got kinda rambley)

anon you’ve got me TEEMING with ideas I LOVE the trope of nobody knowing jason has a girlfriend and they find out but it is NOT by Jason’s choice nor reader’s.

Also omg? Your first ask is to lil ol me?? That means this is a special occassion. And you’re doing great I’ve def sent worse asks.

Out of the Bag

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader || Hurt and Comfort.

Word Count: 1,862

Warnings: Injuries, swearing, near death experience, blood, knife mention, stabbing, canon-typical violence, use of pet names (princess, baby), drug (pain med) use

You were sat in an alleyway, vision going in and out.

“Tell me something, princess. Anything.” Jason’s voice rang out in your ear.

That’s right. In your right hand, you held your phone, to your ear. Your other hand was pressing the fabric of your coat to the side of your stomach. The blood had soaked through, becoming sticking on your palm and fingers.

You should’ve listened to Jason. You shouldn’t have walked home alone, at night. Luckily your phone had been in your pocket and not your purse, which had been stolen from you by the same guy who decided to stab you.

“Princess,” he sounded panicked.

Right. “Wish I had kicked him harder.”

You heard a sigh of relief leave him, “That’s my girl.”

The phone slipped from your grip a little as your head swam. The sight of blood coming from your own abdomen made no help in quelling your nausea.

You fixed the phone. You had called Jason the second the guy ran off, leaving you to bleed out. He was driving, you think. Tracking your phone to try and get to you. “How far?”

He said something you didn’t hear. Your vision was swimming, your side was aching, and you couldn’t help but keep this funny understanding out of your mind that you were dying.

That this is something Jason had come back to your apartment with a few times, claiming it was nothing. It was something.

You heard him call your name, “What’s around you?”

“I’m tired,” you mumbled.

It seemed to happen in a blink of an eye. Jason was trying to tell you to stay awake, to look at the alley around you. To look out towards the street and tell him what you saw. Then he was there, standing in front of you, his helmet hiding his face.

“I’m here. I’m here, baby.” He cupped your face, tapping your cheek to get you to open up your eyes. He crouched down, pulling your hand from your side to assess the damage.

You smiled lazily and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

Jason muttered a slew of swears as he pressed something soft yet hard against your agonizing wound. You let out a yelp before Jason was picking you up, placing you on his bike.

He’s talking fast, “Fuck. Okay, listen to me. We’re going to go somewhere new, okay? There’s nowhere around here except there for me to get you safe.”

You passed out nearly as soon as he started the bike.

Jason’s freaking. He had tried to keep you safe from anything like this. From everything less than this. And here you were, bleeding out in his arms as he carried you through the batcave. He beelined for the cots and the medical supplies off to the side. He knows his motorcycle couldn’t have been the smoothest of rides for someone in your condition, but it’s all he had in such a short time span.

He’ll apologize when you wake up.

When. He repeats. When she wakes up and when we can get the hell out of this place again and when I can remind her I love her.

No one was back from patrol yet. He set you down on the cot before tearing off his helmet. He tossed it aside, pulling out a med bag and ripping it open. He pushed up your shirt, examining your side and where he had placed the military-grade gauze pad. He curses at the amount of blood.

His hands are shaking. Jason’s hands don’t shake, but you’ve proven to him a lot of things you could make him do that he hadn’t known he was capable of in the last year and (almost) a half of your relationship.

Jason nearly drops the suture thread before another hand is reaching out from just behind him. It catches the thread and Jason looks back over his shoulder. Alfred’s there, moving up to you.

“Allow me. You keep checking her vitals.”

Jason hadn’t even heard him come up. He’s nodding, stepping back to let Alfred take over the stitching. He moves to the other side of the bed.

That’s when he catches sight of the dark figure moving closer from behind Alfred. Jason immediately fixes him with a deadly glare, pointing at Bruce, “Do not come closer!”

Bruce stills. He’s in his bat suit, his cowl hanging behind his head, exposing his face. He looks down to your body, “Who is she?”

Jason doesn’t want him here. Rather, he doesn’t want to be here. You should’ve been home by now. Getting ready for bed and sending him a goodnight text. He turns his gaze back to you.

There’s some hair across your face that he hadn’t noticed. He moves it out of your way without a second thought, “My girlfriend.”

“Finally feel some remorse for sending someone to their grave, Todd?” Damian’s voice spoke up, walking up and stopping beside Bruce, “He’s probably trying to just reverse what he did.”

Jason ignores him. He wants to yell, scream, and maybe shoot the little bastard, but he was right. In a way, this was his fault. He didn’t look after you. He should’ve offered you a ride. Called you a taxi. An uber. Anything.

Jason grips your hand into his. It’s a way to count your heartbeat, and another way to ground himself. To reassure that you’ll be okay. His other hand stays on your cheek. His thumb gently moves back and forth, stroking your skin.

He barely registers Bruce telling Damian to go wash up. When the brat is gone, Bruce speaks up again, “What happened?”

Jason doesn’t take his eyes off of you, “She was walking home from her friend’s. A mugger got her purse, she fought back. He stabbed her.” Jason takes a deep breath, “She still had her phone. She called me. I brought her here because it was closest.”

A beat of silence. Still stitching you up, Alfred speaks, “How come we’ve never been introduced?”

Jason shakes his head, “I didn’t want her near any of this. She’s bad off enough sticking with me.”

Once you stabilize, Jason brings you up to his room in the manor. He walks past Dick, Tim, Duke, Cass, and Steph without looking at them. They sit around the batcomputer, watching Jason gently carry you out ot the cave.

He changes you out of your dirty clothes once he makes a run back to your apartment to grab you some of your own spare clothes.

Asides from that, he doesn’t leave your side.

He lets you have the bed to yourself. He pulls up a chair beside it, waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t want you to be alone when you did, in a strange place after a traumatic event. It was a recipe for disaster.

The sun’s been up for a long while and Jason hasn’t budged. He sits there, your hand gripped in both of his, held up and pressed against his mouth. His lips brush over your knuckles whenever he speaks up. Uttering a “I’m sorry.” every now and then.

There’s a light knock at the door before it’s cracking open. Jason turns his head to find Dick poking his head in. Jason glares at him.

Dick steps further in, presenting the tray he was holding. There were two glasses of water, some solid foods, and lighter ones, probably for you. Jason looked back down at you, letting his older brother enter.

“Just… figured since you’ve been cooped up in here all day,” Dick begins, setting the tray down on the beside table beside Jason.

Dick moves back around. He stands at the end of the bed, leaning against the tall bed post that was meant to hold up a canopy. “I heard…” he trails off, before nodding and your body in the bed, still unconscious, “Who is she?”

Jason looks up at his brother, not letting go of your hand, “So you haven’t heard.”

Dick rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Jason raises his brows a little. He looks back down at you. His hand reaches out to brush along your forehead, moving away imaginary stray hairs, “My girl.”

Dick nods in understanding, “How long you two been together.”

Jason pauses in thought, “Over a year. Our anniversary was in December.”

A small, choked sound comes from outside the door, in the hallway. “A year?”

Jason looks up at Dick, who makes a face that shows he’s knows he’s been caught.

“Are they seriously listening right now?”

Steph poked her head in first, an apologetic smile on her face, “We wanted to know!”

Duke pokes his head in next, just above Steph’s, “And we wanted to meet her.”

Tim’s head in next, above Duke’s, “You can’t carry a random bleeding woman into the cave and expect the family of detectives to not be curious.”

Cass’ head appears below Steph’s. She nods in agreement.

Jason let’s one hand go of yours to wave his hand through the air, “What the fuck? She’s not even awake!”

“Well that’s why we sent Dick as bait.”

“For the record,” Dick held up a finger, “They built off of my original, innocent idea of bringing you snacks.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jason stands up, taking a few steps forward. He points them all back towards the door as they start to filter into the room, “Get—“

“What’s going on…?”

Jason’s whole body whipped back around at the sound of your groggy, rough voice. The others watch as he’s back at your side in a millisecond, his whole demeanour changed. “Hey, you’re okay. Everything’s okay. Remember how I said we were going somewhere new? You thirsty, baby? Here, I got you some water.”

“Oh, you certainly did not get the water,” Dick piped up.

Jason glared back over his shoulder as he held the glass of water for you, keeping the straw Dick had added placed in your mouth.

You stopped drinking, your eyes now on the other people in the room. You turned your head, propped up against pillows Jason had put there for you. You weakly raised your left hand to wave, “Hi… oh?” your gaze turned down to your hand. A heart monitor clip sitting on your finger grabbed your attention. You gave a confused pout at it, “I feel funny.”

Jason set the water aside again. His glare was gone. He leaned in, kissing your forehead, “You’re hopped up on pain meds. That’s why, princess.”

“Damn,” Steph spoke up, “I wish I got the literal princess treatment.”

Jason turned back around, pointing out the door, “Get. Out. Leave my girlfriend alone until she’s better.”

You looked at the strangers, pointing at Jason with your left hand, “I’m his girlfriend.” Your head tilted back against the pillows as you stared up at Jason, pursing your lips, "I’m tired.”

“I know,” Jason said softly. The others began to filter out of the room as he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, this time on the lips.

From the exit, a collective, “Awwww,” sounded out.

“Out!”

Your drugged up voice came after his, once they were all back in the hall, “Nice to meet you!”

3K notes · View notes

keehomania · 1 month ago

Text

homesick — rcm (18+)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ smut, fluff, minors dni, pining, childhood romance, soft!asshole!rafe, very conflicting lol mb, rafe is an asshole with a soft spot for you, could’ve just said it like that sry, sex is slightly sweeter than what i’m used to writing, i know you don’t need me right now, to you it’s just a late night out

longing for something was the most painful thing you could go through. it was the gray area between loving something and obtaining it, more often than not leaning toward loving rather than obtaining. everybody longed for something, at least once in their lives. you knew you did. you longed for everything you once had, everything that slipped through the cracks of your fingers like grains of sand. sand.

you longed for the feeling of sand beneath your bare feet, the scent of saltwater colliding with a freshly opened bottle of sunscreen, for the feeling of the wind in your hair just one more time. today, you would stop longing for it. you would reach the end of the spectrum after twelve long years and pray it would feel the way it did when things were easier.

the car door creaked open, and you stepped out, blinking as the sun met your face. the morning light was blinding, casting a golden glow over the familiar yet unfamiliar streets. your legs ached from the long drive, but it was the dull throb in your chest that you couldn’t shake. something was brewing in the pit of your stomach, poisoning your soul and making your heart clench. nostalgia.

it coursed through your veins, a bittersweet sensation that left you teetering between comfort and pain. everything felt the same, but nothing didn’t look the same. the sun was just as bright, but maybe there were more people now than you’d anticipated. there were more shops lining the streets, more boats anchored at the docks. more had a knack for being better than less, but the difference didn’t sit well with you.

you locked your car, the sharp click echoing louder than you expected in the stillness of the early morning. you promised yourself you’d return for your things later. for now, you needed to jog your memory. the air smelled of salt and sunblock, a scent so ingrained in your childhood that it almost made you choke up. your feet carried you instinctively, down streets you didn’t have to think twice about, past houses that seemed to carry fragments of your past.

you loved your father, because he was so much more than your father. he was your hero, your role model, the man who checked for monsters under your bed and whispered bedtime stories when you couldn’t sleep. he had a quiet strength about him, the kind that made you feel safe no matter how chaotic the world around you became. he was patient, endlessly so, and always seemed to know exactly what to say, even when there were no words to mend the situation.

he had spent his entire life taking care of you, alongside your mother. together, they had built a world where you never felt the weight of their struggles, only the warmth of their love. your mother was the heart of that world, as much a protector as your father was. she had a laugh that could brighten even the darkest days, and a way of knowing what you needed before you ever said a word. you loved them equally, because there was no father who could do it without a mother there, and no mother who could do it without a father by her side.

but you also loved the outer banks. you loved the place you grew up in, the salty air that clung to your skin, the way the waves crashed against the shore in a rhythm that felt like home. you loved the endless summers, the laughter that echoed through the streets of figure 8, and the friendships that felt as unshakable as the tides. yet, when it came down to leaving it, you did what was necessary.

it was three weeks after your mother had gone on a business trip, one in charlotte, just a few hours away. three weeks. that was all it took for everything to unravel. your father had gotten the call two days before he told you, and you could see the heaviness in his eyes, the way his shoulders carried the weight of a decision he didn’t want to make. but he knew—he knew you couldn’t spare another second there. it was time to leave.

and when the time came, it was done quickly, like ripping off a bandage. nobody could hear of it. even if they did, there was nothing they could do about it. lord knows they tried. ward and rose were the first to reach out, their voices frantic, pleading for answers. you remembered the way your father’s jaw tightened as he ended the call, refusing to explain, to argue, to justify. you had been too young to understand, but old enough to sense the finality of it all.

the last you heard, their family had become somewhat of a mess. the perfect veneer of the camerons had cracked, exposing something raw and broken underneath. you tried not to think about it too much, but it seemed impossible. every street, every house, every crashing wave brought memories rushing back, unbidden and unstoppable. but you pushed them down, telling yourself there was no use in dredging up the past—not yet, anyway.

the houses you passed were a symphony of elegance and familiarity, each one a beacon of the wealth that had defined figure 8 for generations. they stood tall and proud, their façades polished to perfection. you could see the care etched into every detail—the manicured lawns with grass so green it seemed unreal, the trimmed hedges sculpted into geometric shapes, and the vibrant flowers lining cobblestone pathways.

the porches were wide and welcoming, adorned with rocking chairs and hanging flower baskets swaying gently in the breeze. some houses boasted wraparound balconies, their railings painted crisp white, while others had large bay windows that gleamed under the sun, curtains drawn just enough to reveal a hint of the lavish interiors within.

you noticed the details, the things you’d forgotten until now: the way the golden plaques glinted with family names, the faint sound of wind chimes echoing from porches, the occasional bark of a dog from behind wrought-iron gates. it was all so familiar, yet so distant, like a photograph you had stared at for so long that it felt unreal.

as you walked, memories followed, clinging to you like the humid air. they weren’t all of this place—most of them were of him. you had no issue remembering him. the problem was forgetting him, something you could never bring yourself to do no matter how hard you tried.

the memory struck you like a wave. You were six years old, standing in this very neighborhood. your parents had just moved in, and the camerons had wasted no time in welcoming you. you could still see it vividly: rafe, two years older than you, standing with his arms crossed, his nose slightly upturned like he was better than everyone else in the room.

you remembered the way you’d clung to your father’s leg, peeking out only to find his piercing blue eyes staring back at you with a mischievous glint. he was mean, even then. spoiled. his first words to you were, “your hair looks funny.”

your cheeks burned at the memory, the sting of his words fresh even after all these years. you could still hear your mother laughing softly, your father gently patting your shoulder, and ward scolding his son. but then there was sarah. sweet, sunny sarah, who had marched right up to her older brother and smacked him on the arm. “stop being mean, rafe!” she had said with all the conviction her five-year-old self could muster.

and then she turned to you, her eyes wide and sparkling with sincerity. “i like your hair,” she had said, her voice gentle, her small hand reaching out to yours.

“i like yours, too,” you had replied, the tears in your eyes disappearing in an instant.

“wanna be friends?” she asked, tilting her head.

“sure,” you had said, a grin breaking through your tears.

rafe had rolled his eyes then, muttering something under his breath as if he couldn’t believe the exchange happening right in front of him. now, as you walked, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought. it was so vivid, so alive, as if it had happened just yesterday. but you wondered—was he the same? had he changed at all, or was he even meaner now?

the shops along the way were a kaleidoscope of charm and nostalgia. their exteriors were bright and inviting, painted in pastel shades of pink, blue, and yellow, with hand-painted signs swaying gently in the breeze. glass display windows showcased trinkets and souvenirs—everything from handwoven baskets to seashell jewelry and t-shirts with “outer banks” scrawled across them in bold, faded lettering. the aroma of fresh pastries wafted from a bakery, mingling with the salty air and drawing a smile to your face.

you paused at a familiar ice cream parlor, its striped awning unchanged after all these years. the sight of children clamoring for cones, their faces smeared with chocolate and strawberry, made your chest ache. it reminded you of summers spent running through these streets, rafe and sarah in tow, chasing the melting sweetness before it dripped down your arms.

the path narrowed as you moved closer to the beach, the buildings giving way to sand dunes and patches of seagrass. the sound of waves crashing against the shore grew louder, accompanied by the cries of seagulls circling above. the salty air thickened, wrapping around you like an old friend. and then, as the beach came into view, the memory struck.

you had just turned seven, the world still a canvas of endless possibility. you were on the beach with sarah, the two of you crouched in the sand, determined to build the most magnificent sandcastle the outer banks had ever seen.

“we get to be the princesses, right?” you asked, your small hands gripping a bright red bucket as you filled it with wet sand.

“yeah! rafe can be the guard,” sarah replied, her tone decisive as she smoothed out the castle walls.

just a few feet away, rafe sat with his legs crossed, focused on his fishing gear. he had been trying to teach himself to fish, his brow furrowed in concentration as he prepared the bait. ward had given him some of his more expensive gear that morning, clearly hoping his son would find purpose in the sport.

you couldn’t help but frown, suddenly dissatisfied with the childish simplicity of your sandcastle compared to the serious task rafe was undertaking. “i wanna try that, too,” you declared, abandoning your bucket and scrambling toward him.

he barely spared you a glance, scoffing as he tied a knot. “as if. you don’t know how to fish.”

you planted your hands on your hips, standing beside him with a determined pout. “why can’t you teach me?” you challenged, tilting your head. then, with a sly grin, you added, “you don’t know either.”

that got his attention. he turned to you with a dramatic sigh, his face a mixture of annoyance and reluctant amusement. “i know how to fish,” he insisted, standing up and brushing the sand from his shorts. “fine, i’ll teach you. but don’t cry when you mess it up.”

he reached for your hands, his grip surprisingly gentle as he guided you toward the rod. his blue eyes softened, though his voice remained gruff. “first, you hold it like this,” he explained, positioning your hands on the handle. “not too tight, or you’ll mess up the cast. got it?”

you nodded eagerly, your small hands dwarfed by the rod as you mimicked his movements.

“now, watch carefully,” he said, stepping behind you to adjust your stance. his hands covered yours, steady and sure, as he helped you draw the rod back. “when i say ‘go,’ you flick it forward. like this—”

“go!”

the line soared into the water, the bait landing with a soft plop. your face lit up with excitement, and you turned to him, beaming. “i did it!”

he rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a small smile. “barely. don’t get cocky.”

you laughed, unbothered by his tone. “thanks, rafey.”

“whatever,” he muttered, but there was a flicker of pride in his expression as he returned to his spot.

even then, he was a contradiction—tough on the outside, but with glimpses of something softer beneath the surface. as you stood on the shore now, the memory faded, replaced by the crashing waves and the unanswered question: had he changed? or had time only sharpened his edges?

the beach stretched out before you, golden and endless, shimmering beneath the late morning sun. the air was thick with the scent of salt and sunscreen, the sound of waves mingling with the occasional bark of a dog or the laughter of children playing nearby. seagulls circled above, their cries sharp but oddly soothing, a familiar soundtrack to a place you once called home.

you slipped off your shoes and stepped onto the sand, warm and soft, a sensation you hadn’t felt in years. the grains clung to your skin, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. it was as if the beach itself were welcoming you back, whispering that some things never changed, no matter how much time passed.

a crowd had gathered in the middle of the shoreline, their figures blending together in the bright sunlight. you couldn’t make out any faces, but the hum of their voices and the sight of carefree movement filled the air with life. despite the busyness of the scene, the beach itself remained a sanctuary—a timeless, comforting space. the wind tousled your hair, and for a moment, you closed your eyes, letting the nostalgia wash over you. it brought you back to a day much like this one, years ago, when the beach had been alive.

your parents had joined ward and rose for a picnic, the two families spreading out a blanket beneath the shade of an umbrella. everyone had been vibrant, so alive. the adults laughed and chatted over glasses of chilled wine, while you and sarah shared slices of watermelon, sticky juice dripping down your chins. she had her head resting on your shoulder, her blonde hair tickling your cheek as you both giggled over nothing in particular.

“it’s really sweet,” you’d said, savoring another bite.

ward had turned to you with a smile, always proud of his ability to impress. “imported from south america,” he’d explained. “you like it?”

you and sarah had nodded enthusiastically, neither of you having a clue in the world what a south america was. the sweetness of the fruit a perfect match for the sunlit day. but as you turned your gaze toward the water, you noticed rafe sitting alone by the shore. he was quiet, his toes buried in the gentle surf, drawing patterns in the wet sand with a stick. there was a tension to him, a nervous energy that seemed out of place amidst the carefree atmosphere.

you set down your half-eaten slice and rose to your feet, brushing sand from your legs. “i’m gonna go check on rafe,” you told sarah, who only shrugged and returned to her watermelon.

as you approached, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, scoffing lightly. “you’re all sticky,” he muttered, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice.

you grinned, unbothered. “are you hungry?” you asked, crouching beside him.

he shook his head, the stick in his hand still tracing lines in the sand. you frowned, leaning closer. “what’s wrong?”

for a moment, he didn’t answer, his usual bravado replaced by something softer. finally, he turned to you, his blue eyes filled with a quiet uncertainty. “i have to tell you something,” he said, his voice low.

“what’s wrong, rafey?” you pressed, your concern genuine.

he fidgeted, the stick falling forgotten into the sand as he reached into his pocket. When he turned back to you, his hand was outstretched, holding a small metal ring. it was simple, almost too small, as though it had once belonged to a charm bracelet—or maybe it was something he’d found in rose’s jewelry box or bought with the few dollars he had.

“what’s that?” you asked, curiosity lighting up your face.

“i got it for you,” he said, his tone serious, almost awkward.

“why?”

his gaze dropped to the sand, his cheeks reddening. “because i’m gonna marry you when we grow up.”

you gasped, your excitement bubbling over. “really?”

“yeah,” he mumbled, looking at you with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. “so, here.”

without hesitation, you threw your arms around him, sticky hands and all. “thank you, rafey!”

“stop, you’re still sticky,” he protested, his voice muffled against your shoulder, but he didn’t pull away.

instead, you took his hand, tugging him to his feet. “come on!” you exclaimed, dragging him back toward the picnic.

as you reached the blanket, you held up the ring proudly. “rafe and i are gonna get married!” you announced, your voice loud enough to draw the attention of everyone there.

rafe’s face turned scarlet, his hands stuffed into his pockets as laughter erupted around you. even rose, who was usually so composed, chuckled warmly at the sight of her son’s flustered expression.

sarah ran to you, throwing her arms around your neck. “yes! you’ll get to be my real sister!” she cheered, her enthusiasm matching your own.

the memory made your chest tighten as you stood on the beach now, watching the waves roll in and out. how simple things had been then, how full of joy and possibility. the weight of the years since that day pressed down on you, and you couldn’t help but wonder: had rafe ever thought about it? had he ever remembered that promise?

the sound of the crowd jolted you from your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. laughter, cheers, and the unmistakable hum of engines filled the air, growing louder with every passing second. Intrigued, you turned toward the commotion, your curiosity outweighing the tranquility the beach had offered moments before.

you wove your way through the crowd, dodging elbows and shifting bodies as you tried to get a better look. the closer you got, the more the scene came into view. dirt bikes, sleek and muddied, were scattered along the sand, their riders gathered near the starting line. the crowd pressed in around them, forming a makeshift arena.

at the center of it all were three men who stood apart from the rest, their presence commanding attention. two of them were on one side, seemingly strategizing. one had curly hair that bounced with every movement, his wiry frame radiating energy. the other was blond and lean, his sharp jawline illuminated by the sunlight. a few feet away stood the third man, tall and broad-shouldered, his blond hair buzzed short. even from a distance, there was a quiet intensity to him that made him stand out.

you tapped the shoulder of the girl beside you, who was cheering loudly. “what’s all this?” you asked, your voice just loud enough to be heard over the roar of the crowd.

she turned to you, her eyebrows furrowed as if surprised you didn’t already know. “you’re not from here, huh?” she asked.

you hesitated before replying, “not recently.”

“it’s the kildare enduro,” she explained, a hint of excitement in her voice. “biggest race of the summer. you’re in for a show.”

the name didn’t ring any bells, and you realized this must have been something new, something that had started after you’d left. still, the anticipation in the air was contagious, and you found yourself eager to see what all the fuss was about.

engines revved, the sound sharp and exhilarating as the riders mounted their bikes. the crowd roared as the signal was given, and within seconds, the racers were off, their tires kicking up sand as they sped down the makeshift track.

the racers weaved skillfully around obstacles, their movements a blur of precision and daring. the man with frosted tips was quick, taking sharp turns with practiced ease, his bike seeming to glide over the sand. the lean blond wasn’t far behind, his focus evident in the way he leaned into every curve, his bike roaring as he pushed it to its limits.

but it was the third man who drew your attention most. he was fast, incredibly so, his broad shoulders steady as he maneuvered through the course with calculated aggression. every movement was controlled, deliberate, as though he knew exactly how far he could push the bike without losing control.

the race was a spectacle, a blend of more speed, less skill, and pure adrenaline. the crowd erupted into cheers as the racers hit the halfway mark, neck and neck. it wasn’t until the blond man attempted a daring jump over a dune that things took a turn. his landing was rough, causing his bike to wobble dangerously before he recovered. he seized the opportunity, pulling ahead with a burst of speed, but the tall blond wasn’t far behind. they pushed their bikes to the brink, sand flying in every direction as they closed in on the finish line.

just as it seemed the tall blond had the race in the bag, the one with frosted tips made his move, attempting to overtake him on the final stretch. their bikes collided briefly, sending both riders skidding across the sand. gasps rippled through the crowd as the tall blond man capitalized on the chaos, speeding past the lean one to take second place.

the race was over before it even started, but the energy in the air was electric. you found yourself pushing closer, eager to see the aftermath. the tall blond, covered in sand and visibly frustrated, rose to his feet. he glanced toward the lean blond, who was still brushing himself off, their exchange charged with tension. and then he turned.

for a moment, his piercing blue eyes locked onto yours. there was something achingly familiar about him—the shape of his jaw, the intensity of his gaze. it was as though you’d seen him before, in another life perhaps, but the memory was just out of reach. your heart raced as he continued to stare, his expression unreadable.

you hesitated as the scene unfolded before you, your gaze fixed on the lean blond. a group of people ran toward him, their laughter and shouts mingling with the lingering roar of the crowd. one of them threw their arms around him, but the others had snapped like a twig, shoving him, yelling at him. you couldn’t help but stare, curiosity hitting you.

the realization hit you—you stuck out like a sore thumb, gawking as if you didn’t belong, and you probably didn’t. you started to shift back into the crowd when a gentle touch on your shoulder jolted you. you spun around, your heart leaping into your throat, and froze.

she didn’t need a single word of introduction. the familiar honey-blonde hair, the sharp yet kind eyes, the bright smile etched into your childhood memories—it was unmistakably her.

“sarah?” the name tumbled from your lips before you could stop it.

her eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth as if to stop herself from crying out. shock rippled across her face, her features softening and trembling all at once. she didn’t say a word, not at first. she just stood there, eyes scanning your face like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

then, suddenly, her arms were around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “oh my god,” she breathed, her voice quivering with disbelief. her grip was strong, desperate, as though letting go would make you vanish again.

the eyes of her friends were on you, you could feel their curious stares, but you didn’t care. at least now, you knew it was really her.

“sarah,” you repeated, your voice cracking. the name felt strange on your tongue after so many years, but it was real. she was real.

“it can’t be you,” she whispered, her breath hitching. “it can’t be.” she pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands gripping your shoulders as tears pooled in her eyes. her gaze darted across your features, her trembling lips curving into a smile of disbelief. “it’s you,” she said again, shaking her head, her voice catching in her throat. “it’s really you.”

tears blurred your vision, your chest tightening as you threw your arms around her this time. you held on tightly, suppressing the sobs clawing at your throat. “sarah,” you said again, her name a lifeline tethering you to the moment.

“are you—are you back?” she asked breathlessly, pulling back just enough to search your face. her voice was thick with emotion, her words tumbling out in a rush. “are you back for good?”

“i am,” you managed, your voice shaky but sure. “i’m back, sarah. for good this time.”

she laughed through her tears, pressing a hand to her chest like she couldn’t believe it. “you have no idea,” she began, her voice breaking, “how much i’ve missed you. how much we’ve missed you.”

she turned then, gesturing toward her group of friends who had been watching the reunion unfold. “guys, this is,” She paused, the words catching in her throat as she turned back to you, her eyes still wide with disbelief. “this is my best friend growing up. this is—”

you gave them a nervous smile as sarah continued, her excitement bubbling over. she rattled off introductions, naming each of them—jj, the boy with the shaggy blonde hair who had lost the race; john b, whose gaze lingered on you with a kind curiosity; and a few others who smiled warmly despite the obvious confusion etched on their faces. they greeted you with nods and hesitant smiles, but you barely registered it. your heart was pounding, your focus still tethered to sarah.

then, almost without thinking, you asked the question. “is rafe here?”

sarah’s face shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her features. you noticed jj and john b exchange a quick glance, something unspoken passing between them.

“he was just here,” sarah finally said, her voice quieter now, almost cautious. “racing.”

the realization hit you like a wave, the memory of the second racer—the tall blond with the piercing blue eyes—crashing over you. your breath caught in your throat as the pieces fell into place. the familiarity you’d felt, the tension in his gaze—it had been him.

you blinked, the realization sinking in deeper than you wanted it to. that had been rafe. older, rougher around the edges, but still undeniably him. you barely heard sarah when she grabbed your hand and said, “come on, let’s head back to john b’s. we can talk there.” her friends nodded, beginning to walk, and you followed them automatically, your feet moving on instinct as your mind raced. sarah walked beside you, her hand gripping yours like she was afraid you’d disappear again.

the walk to john b’s house stretched longer than you anticipated, the weight of sarah’s questions and the unfamiliar tension in her friends' eyes making the air feel thicker than it should have. the sound of your footsteps crunched against the gravel path, each step sinking deeper into the realization that you were walking into a life that no longer felt like your own. the salty breeze carried the faint scent of bonfires and ocean spray, and yet it did little to settle the nerves curling in your stomach.

sarah had stayed close, her hand brushing yours occasionally as if afraid you might disappear again if she didn’t tether you somehow. you glanced sideways at her, taking in the subtle changes in her features—she was still sarah, but her edges had softened, her face more weathered by years of joy and hardship than the carefree girl you’d once known.

when the small house came into view, you nearly stopped in your tracks. it wasn’t the grand estate where you used to sit on the veranda sipping iced tea or sneaking snacks with sarah when ward wasn’t looking. it was modest, its weathered exterior standing in defiant contrast to the glossy life sarah had grown up in. surfboards leaned against the porch, the peeling paint whispered of simpler days, and the scent of fried food wafted from an open window.

“this is where you live now?” you asked softly, unable to mask the disbelief in your tone.

sarah hesitated, then nodded. “yeah,” she said, her voice carrying a mix of pride and resignation. “it’s home.”

you didn’t say anything else, but you couldn’t help wondering what had happened to bring her here. what had pulled her away from the life you once knew?

inside, the house was alive with chatter and movement, the kind of casual chaos you could only find among close friends. jj had thrown himself onto the couch, beer in hand, while kiara rummaged through a drawer for something. john b stood by the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his eyes flicking between you and sarah as if trying to read the situation.

but sarah didn’t let you linger in the room’s atmosphere for long. she tugged you toward the porch, where the sound of the waves was clearer, the salty breeze brushing against your skin. you sank onto the steps beside her, the wood warm beneath you from the day’s sun. for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“how could you?” she asked suddenly, her voice breaking the stillness like a clap of thunder.

you turned to her, startled. “what?”

her gaze was locked on the horizon, her hands gripping the edge of the step. “how could you just leave? how could you stay quiet for twelve years?” her voice trembled, her pain spilling out in waves.

you swallowed hard, the knot in your throat tightening. “sarah, i—”

“you didn’t even say goodbye,” she interrupted, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “you just disappeared. do you have any idea what that did to me? to all of us?”

your breath hitched, and you looked down at your hands, unable to meet her gaze. “i didn’t have a choice,” you said quietly.

her head snapped toward you, her expression a mix of confusion and anger. “what does that even mean?”

“something happened,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “something horrible. and i couldn’t stay. i had to face it.”

her anger melted away, replaced by a sorrow so deep it made your chest ache. “what happened?” she asked softly, her hand reaching for yours.

you shook your head, biting back the emotions threatening to spill over. “i can’t talk about it. not yet.”

she nodded slowly, her fingers tightening around yours. “okay,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes. “but promise me you’ll tell me one day.”

“i promise,” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of the moment. the silence returned, heavier this time, until you found the courage to break it. “what about rafe?”

her breath caught, and she pulled her hand back, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “what about him?”

“i need to see him,” you said, your heart pounding.

kiara’s voice cut in from the doorway, sharp and unflinching. “you don’t want to do that.”

you turned to her, frowning. “why not?”

“because nobody here is friends with rafe,” she said, her tone laced with bitterness.

you turned back to sarah, your stomach sinking. “what does she mean? what happened to him?”

sarah’s expression darkened, and she looked away, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the wood. “he’s not the same,” she said finally. “he’s gotten into some bad things. drugs. crime. hurting people. he’s not the rafe you remember.”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut, the air rushing from your lungs. “no,” you whispered, shaking your head. “that can’t be true.”

“he tried to kill me,” sarah said, her voice trembling. “he’s different now.”

you stared at her, your mind racing, memories of the boy you once knew flashing before your eyes. without thinking, you stood, your chest tight and your breathing uneven. “i need a minute,” you muttered, stepping off the porch.

“wait,” sarah said, her gaze dropping to your hand. her brow furrowed as she leaned closer. “you still have that?”

you followed her gaze to the small metal ring on your pinky, its once shiny surface now dull and worn. “i haven’t taken it off,” you said quietly. “not once these twelve years.”

her breath hitched, and tears filled her eyes. “he gave you that,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

you nodded, your throat tightening. “he did.”

she reached out, her fingers brushing against the ring. “even after everything?”

you swallowed hard, the weight of the ring heavier than ever. “especially after everything.”

her tears spilled over, and she pulled you into a hug, her breath shaky against your shoulder. “we’ll find him,” she said softly. “we’ll fix this. somehow.” but as you pulled away, the doubt lingered in her eyes—and in yours.

your walk was slow, your feet dragging against the dusty path as your mind swirled with thoughts of what sarah had told you. the crisp evening air nipped at your skin, and the faint hum of crickets filled the silence. your fingers brushed against the cool metal of the ring on your pinky, twisting it around absentmindedly as you tried to piece together how everything could have gone so wrong.

the roadside bar loomed ahead, a place frozen in time. its weathered wooden sign creaked faintly in the breeze, illuminated by a flickering neon light that buzzed softly. this was a place your father and ward used to frequent, their laughter and hushed conversations floating in your memory like ghosts. you hesitated for a moment, gripping the ring tighter before pushing open the heavy door.

the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke hit you first, the dim light casting shadows that danced across the scuffed wooden floor. the low murmur of voices and the crack of pool balls filled the room, but the moment you stepped inside, it felt like every pair of eyes turned to you. men leaned against the bar, their gazes lingering a little too long, and a few heads turned in the corner where a card game was underway. your pulse quickened, and you adjusted your stance, trying not to show the nerves that prickled beneath your skin.

you found an empty stool near the bar and slid onto it, the worn leather cool against your legs. the bartender, a woman with kind eyes and a bright smile, approached. she leaned slightly over the counter, her voice warm. “hi, sugar, what can i get you?”

her friendliness put you at ease, and you adjusted yourself on the stool, thinking back to the times you had sat on your father’s lap here as a child, the smell of whiskey and tobacco clinging to his clothes. you tried to remember what he would order, something simple, something that wouldn’t make you stand out.

“just a beer, thanks,” you answered, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your chest.

she nodded and moved to grab a bottle, setting it down in front of you with a napkin. you paid, sliding the money across the counter, and took a sip, the bitter taste grounding you in the moment.

as you sat there, you let your thoughts wander. you thought about sarah’s words, about how rafe had spiraled into a person you could barely recognize. you thought about the ring on your finger, its weight heavier now than ever, and how you’d kept it on all these years as a symbol of a bond you once thought unbreakable. the sound of the door opening barely registered until you heard the voice.

“gin straight.”

it was deep, rough, and unmistakable. your stomach churned, your breath caught in your throat, and before you could stop yourself, you turned.

there he was, standing a few feet away at the bar, his profile sharp against the dim light. his buzzed hair was shorter than you remembered, his jaw more defined, but it was the same face that had haunted your memories for over a decade. he turned slowly, almost as if he could feel your gaze on him, and when his eyes locked onto yours, the world seemed to tilt off its axis.

it all stopped. the noise, the movement, the air in your lungs. everything came to a grinding halt as his piercing blue eyes met yours.

“rafe,” you exhaled, so quietly you weren’t sure if the word even escaped your lips, but it did.

his gaze stayed on you, unblinking, unreadable. for a moment, he didn’t move, as if frozen in place. then, hesitantly, he stepped closer. you held your breath as he reached out, his hand brushing yours as he lifted it to inspect the ring on your pinky.

he turned your hand slightly, his thumb grazing the metal as his jaw tensed. the silence between you was deafening, his face a mixture of disbelief and something you couldn’t place. but then, as quickly as he had reached for you, he let go, your hand falling limply to your side.

“rafe, please,” you said, your voice louder this time, tinged with desperation.

“no,” his response was barely audible, but the weight of it crushed you. he shook his head, stepping back. “no, you don’t get to do this.”

you blinked, your heart breaking at the quiet finality in his tone. “do what?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“you don’t get to come back after twelve years and act like everything’s the same,” he said, his voice low but sharp. “you don’t get to look at me like that.”

he grabbed his jacket from the stool beside him, abandoning the drink he’d ordered. you reached for him, stepping closer, but he moved away, his movements hurried, as if he couldn’t get out fast enough.

“rafe, wait!” you called after him, but he didn’t stop.

the door swung shut behind him, and you were left standing there, your heart in pieces on the scuffed wooden floor. you sat back down slowly, your hands trembling as you picked up your beer, the cool glass doing little to steady your nerves. tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away, unwilling to break down in front of the strangers still watching you. the ring on your finger seemed heavier now, its meaning twisted and warped by the person rafe had become.

the world seemed to turn on you as you staggered along the dirt path, the alcohol buzzing in your veins far more than you'd intended. you cursed under your breath—why did you even drink in the first place? the bar was supposed to be a brief stop, a distraction. now, here you were, stumbling through the outskirts of town, hopelessly lost.

the cool night air pricked your skin, and you wrapped your arms around yourself for warmth. trees loomed overhead, their branches tangling into an almost suffocating canopy as you ventured deeper into unfamiliar woods. your steps were uneven, crunching against the dry leaves and snapping twigs underfoot. the stillness was eerie, broken only by the distant sound of crickets and the occasional rustle of something unseen.

you didn’t realize you had stopped until you heard faint voices carried on the breeze. they were low, hurried, almost conspiratorial. your muddled brain told you to turn around and leave, but something else—a mixture of curiosity and recklessness—drew you forward.

as you approached, the silhouettes of two figures came into view, faintly illuminated by the pale moonlight breaking through the trees. one was shorter, stocky, with buzzed, dark hair, a mustache, and a chain glinting around his neck. he was gesturing animatedly, his hands moving with the urgency of someone trying to make a quick deal. the other man stood taller, his broad shoulders stiff, his body language more guarded. it wasn’t until your unfocused gaze settled on his profile that your breath hitched in your throat.

even through the haze of alcohol, you could recognize him. the strong jawline, the tense set of his shoulders, the way he ran a hand through his short blond hair—it was unmistakable. but this rafe was different. the sight of him clutching a small, crumpled bag of powder made your stomach churn.

your eyes darted between the two men, trying to piece together the scene in front of you. money exchanged hands, crisp bills slipping from rafe’s grasp to the other man’s. the bag of powder followed, its stark white contents nearly glowing in the faint light. your chest tightened as the reality of what you were seeing hit you. a twig snapped beneath your foot.

both heads snapped in your direction instantly, their movements sharp and alert. rafe’s eyes widened, his entire body tensing as he registered your presence.

you took a step forward, anger and disbelief swirling together in a volatile mix. “really, rafe?” the words came out harsher than you intended, but you couldn’t stop them. “this is what you’ve been up to?”

the shorter man frowned, his expression shifting into one of irritation. “excuse me,” he said with a mocking edge, “this is a private transaction.”

you ignored him, your focus locked on rafe. he sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face as if trying to summon patience. fully turning to you, his jaw clenched tight, he spoke with a tone that brooked no argument. “this doesn’t concern you.”

“who's this, country club?” the dark-haired man asked with an amused smirk. “got yourself a girlfriend?”

rafe didn’t answer, but the anger in his eyes was unmistakable. it wasn’t just anger—it was frustration, shame, and something deeper, something raw.

your own emotions bubbled over. “you know what? fine.” you reached into your pocket, fumbling for your wallet. “i’ll join the fun. i want some too.”

rafe’s reaction was immediate. he grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but not painful, his eyes boring into yours with a mixture of disbelief and fury. “what the hell are you doing?”

“what?” you shrugged, yanking your arm free as you pulled out a few bills. “you can have fun, and i can’t?”

he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a furious hiss. “you think this is fun?” his eyes darted to the other man, who was now watching with an amused grin, clearly entertained by the unfolding drama. rafe’s attention snapped back to you, his expression dark. “i’m dealing with shit, okay? now, i know you’ve been gone for a while, but this—” he gestured around him, his tone bitter—“this is the way things are now.”

you let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “dealing with shit? this is your solution?”

rafe clenched his jaw, his hands flexing at his sides. for a moment, it seemed like he might say something, but instead, he abruptly slammed the small bag of powder onto the ground, startling both you and his associate. without another word, he grabbed your arm, yanking you away from the scene with a force that left no room for argument. the shorter man called after him, his voice dripping with annoyance, but rafe didn’t even glance back.

you wrenched your arm free from rafe’s grasp, the momentum staggering you backward a step. his grip had been strong, almost desperate, and as you finally stood still, you took him in.

the years hadn’t been kind, and yet, they had. he was sharper somehow, more defined. his jawline was stronger, his shoulders broader, but his eyes—god, his eyes. the bright blue you remembered so vividly had dimmed, clouded over with something you couldn’t quite name. he looked good, and yet, he looked like a man you barely recognized.

“what the hell is your problem?” the words slipped out before you could stop them, your voice sharp and cutting.

rafe was already pacing, his hands on his hips, his head tilting back as he let out a bitter laugh. he dragged his palms down his face, his movements frantic, unstable. “what’s my problem?” he repeated, his voice laced with mockery. “let’s see, what’s my problem?” he turned to face you, his expression twisted with something you couldn’t quite name—anger, hurt, disbelief, maybe all of it at once. “maybe it has to do with you, showing up after twelve years.”

his words hit like a slap, but he wasn’t done. “i mean, what’d you think? that we’d hug, hold hands, shed a few tears? that it’d be like old times?” his voice rose as he took a step closer. “after you left? after you left?”

the weight of his words made your chest tighten, guilt curling in your stomach like a living thing. you opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off, his voice growing louder, more unstable. “you thought we’d just pick things up where we left off? are you that delusional?”

he leaned in close, his face inches from yours, and jabbed his fingers against his temple as if trying to make sense of it all. his words spilled out in a rushed, angry torrent, each one hitting you like a blow. “you left, and you stayed gone. you didn’t call, didn’t write. hell, you didn’t even think to check if i was still breathing.”

“she died, rafe,” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of your words.

the sentence stopped him mid-rant. his pacing halted, his brow furrowing as he turned to look at you, truly look at you, for the first time. “what are you talking about?” he asked, his voice quieter but no less intense. “who died?”

your chest tightened, and it took everything in you to speak the words aloud. “my mom, rafe,” you said, the pain evident in every syllable. “she died, and we had to go back. we didn’t have a choice. and when we did, we couldn’t face coming back here. it was too much—it’s still too much.”

rafe’s face crumbled, the anger draining from his expression as sorrow took its place. he ran a hand through his hair, his gaze dropping to the ground as he processed your words. your mom. the woman who had always cared for him in ways his own mother never had. the woman who had bandaged his scraped knees and made him dinner when rose was too busy entertaining guests. she was gone.

the silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. finally, rafe spoke, his voice softer than before. “why are you back?”

you swallowed hard, your hands trembling at your sides. “i came back for you,” you answered, your voice steady despite the tears welling in your eyes.

for a brief moment, something in his face softened—something familiar, something achingly rafe. but then he shook his head, his gaze hardening once more. “don’t,” he murmured, almost a plea. “i’m not the same person anymore, and i haven’t been for a long time.”

“i don’t care, rafe,” you shot back, your voice rising with desperation. “nothing could ever change the way i see you. please—”

“stop.”

“no,” you interrupted, your heart breaking with every word. “i know you, rafe. i know who you are underneath all of this. you’re still the same boy i grew up with, the same boy who—”

“stop!” his voice cracked, loud and raw, silencing you. he took a step back, his chest heaving as he struggled to keep himself together. “you don’t know me anymore. you don’t know what i’ve done, what i’ve become. you don’t want this, trust me.”

“i do,” you insisted, tears streaming down your face. “i want you. i came back for you because i never stopped caring. please, rafe, just—”

“i can’t,” he said, his voice breaking as he turned away. he grabbed his jacket from the ground, his movements hurried and clumsy. “i can’t do this.”

“rafe, please!” you called after him, your voice echoing through the trees. but he didn’t turn around. he walked away, his figure disappearing into the shadows, leaving you standing there, shattered and alone.

your knees gave out, and you collapsed to the ground, sobs wracking your body. the ache in your chest was unbearable, like someone had reached in and ripped your heart out. you buried your face in your hands, the cold dirt beneath you offering little comfort. your head throbbed, the pain sharp and unrelenting. the world around you spun, the trees and stars blending together into a dizzying blur. and then, everything went black.

rafe clutched the steering wheel with both hands, his knuckles white as he sped down the dark, empty streets. the tears that streaked his cheeks blurred his vision, but he didn’t care. he couldn’t stop the flood now. this was his only safe place to fall apart—behind the wheel, alone in the cocoon of his car, where no one could see, no one could judge. his chest heaved as sob after sob broke free, and the memories he had buried for so long clawed their way back to the surface. he could still see it, clear as day. the moment everything changed.

he had been eleven years old, standing on your porch, knocking on your door. it had been like any other day—he’d woken up with a plan to drag you outside and teach you something new. maybe you’d climb trees together, or he’d show you how to skip rocks at the creek. you always lit up when he taught you something; it made him feel like a hero.

but when no one answered the door that day, his excitement faded to confusion. he tried again, banging harder, calling your name. still, nothing. the house was eerily quiet, no muffled footsteps, no voices, no sound of the television in the background. he glanced around, noticing for the first time that your father’s car wasn’t parked in the driveway. his heart sank. something felt wrong.

he pushed the door open—it was never locked back then—and stepped inside. the air was still, heavy, as though the house itself had lost its heartbeat. “hello?” he called, his voice echoing faintly. othing. no one. rafe felt panic prick at the edges of his chest as he backed out of the house and ran down the street to his own. when he slipped through the side door, he heard voices. quiet, tense, the kind of voices that told him he wasn’t supposed to be listening.

he crept toward the living room, where his mother and father were standing close, their voices low and hurried. rose’s arms were crossed, her lips pressed into a thin line as ward leaned in closer to her, his face drawn with worry. sarah sat on the couch, her small shoulders shaking as she cried into her hands. rafe froze in the doorway, staring at them.

ward was the first to notice him. his father’s eyes softened, the corners of his mouth pulling into an expression rafe rarely saw from him—sympathy. “dad,” rafe said quietly, stepping further into the room. “she wasn’t home, so i came back.”

he glanced at sarah, confused and a little scared. “why’s she crying?”

rose and ward exchanged a look, a wordless conversation passing between them. finally, ward sighed, walking over to his son. he crouched down, his large hands resting on rafe’s small shoulders. “she’s not going to be home for a very, very long time,” ward said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

rafe frowned, trying to understand. “why not? where’d she go?”

ward didn’t answer. instead, for the first time in as long as rafe could remember, his father pulled him into a hug. a real hug, not the kind meant to placate or perform, but one that felt like comfort. one that made Rafe’s chest ache because he didn’t realize how much he needed it.

“i know it’s hard, son,” ward murmured against his ear. “but she’s gone now.”

rafe let his father hold him that day, clinging to the one solid thing he had as his mind raced to comprehend what “gone” meant. the realization hit later, slowly and painfully, when day after day, week after week, he knocked on your door and was met with silence. for a whole year, he went back, hoping, praying that one day you’d answer. but you never did.

and now, twelve years later, you were here again. like a ghost, like a dream he’d stopped believing in. rafe wiped his tears away with the back of his hand, pulling himself out of the memory as he glanced to the side. his heart clenched when he saw you slumped in the passenger seat, unconscious. your face was pale, your body limp, and the sight made him grip the steering wheel harder.

he took a shaky breath, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer. you looked so small, so vulnerable, like the girl he used to know and the stranger you had become all at once. “i'm sorry,” he whispered, the words catching in his throat as he turned his gaze back to the road.

the world was hazy when you opened your eyes, the faint, warm glow of a lamp on the bedside table guiding you back to consciousness. your head throbbed, the dull ache intensifying with each second, and for a moment, you weren’t sure where you were. slowly, you blinked, your vision sharpening. the room around you felt familiar.

a large bed cradled you in its softness, the smooth fabric cool against your skin. the lamp’s golden light cast gentle shadows on the walls, illuminating a painting hanging across from the bed—a serene coastal landscape you swore you’d seen before. beneath the painting sat a neat stack of white drawers. the faint sound of cicadas chirping outside suggested it was night, but how long had you been out? an hour? two? you brought a shaky hand to your temple, pressing lightly against the pounding pain in your head as you tried to piece together how you got here. then you saw him.

rafe was sitting on the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders hunched slightly, his hands clasped together as if he were trying to hold himself together. his eyes, red and puffy, were fixed on you, his expression a mixture of relief, guilt, and something deeper—something unspoken. your lips parted, your voice faint as you murmured, “rafe.” the sound of his name felt foreign on your tongue, yet familiar, like a forgotten melody.

he didn’t respond immediately, just continued to watch you, his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

“rafey,” you whispered, your voice cracking as your senses fully returned. the nickname slipped out before you could stop it, dragging you both back to a time when things were simpler, softer. a time when you’d tug on his sleeve and call him that, and he’d groan in mock annoyance, but secretly love it.

to your surprise, he smiled—small, fragile, but real. “you haven’t called me that in a long time,” he murmured, his voice rough around the edges but warm in a way that made your chest tighten.

you shifted, straightening your back and sitting up to get a better look at him. the movement made you grimace as your headache flared, but you ignored it. you couldn’t think about yourself right now—not when he was here, not when he was looking at you like that. you must be a mess, you thought. your hair was probably tangled, your makeup smeared, and your clothes wrinkled from sleep. but if rafe thought so, he didn’t show it. his gaze remained steady, unwavering, as though you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“i’m sorry,” you blurted, the words escaping like they had a mind of their own. your throat tightened, and the floodgates opened before you could stop them. “i’m so sorry, rafe.”

your voice cracked as the first tear fell, and then another, until they were streaming freely down your cheeks. the weight of years of guilt and regret crushed you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

“please, don’t cry,” rafe murmured, his voice soft and pleading. he climbed into the bed beside you, reaching out to gently wipe your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. his touch was tender, careful, like he was afraid you might shatter. he had never enjoyed seeing you cry. not when you were kids, and certainly not now.

“i couldn’t have stopped it, could i?” you choked out, your voice trembling. “i could’ve helped you, but i wasn’t there. i left you, rafe. i left you, and look what happened.”

his hands cupped your face, tilting it upward so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. his blue eyes, raw and filled with emotion, bore into yours. “of course you could’ve,” he whispered, his tone tinged with something like sorrow. “nobody could’ve stopped me, but you.” your heart clenched at his words, the truth of them cutting deeper than any blade.

“but,” he added, his thumbs brushing away the fresh tears that streaked your face, “it’s not your fault you weren’t here. you couldn’t have known.” he leaned in slightly, his forehead nearly brushing yours. “you’re here now,” he whispered, his voice steady, reassuring.

you nodded, the lump in your throat too big to speak around. his warmth seeped into you, his presence grounding you in a way nothing else could. his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close until you were cradled in his lap. your head rested against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat calming the storm inside you. for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. it was just you and rafe, tangled together, trying to piece each other back together.

he shifted slightly, his hand brushing against yours, and his gaze dropped. his fingers stilled when they grazed the small, tarnished ring on your hand. “i can’t believe you’ve kept it all these years,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

you looked down, following his gaze to the ring he’d given you all those years ago. it was simple, unassuming, but it had meant everything to you.

“it’s all i had left of you,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

rafe’s fingers closed around yours, lifting your hand to his lips. he pressed a soft kiss against the cool metal of the ring, then another against your knuckles. the tenderness of the gesture sent a fresh wave of tears streaming down your cheeks.

“you’ve got me now,” he said, his voice low and certain. he placed your hand against his chest, directly over his heart. your breath hitched as his gaze locked onto yours. his eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up, searching for permission. you gave it with a barely perceptible nod, and in the next heartbeat, he leaned in.

the kiss was soft, hesitant at first, as though he were afraid of breaking the fragile moment. but as your lips moved against his, the hesitation melted away, replaced by something deeper, something more desperate. his hands cupped your face again, tilting it just right as he kissed you like he’d been waiting twelve years to do it. and maybe he had.

your hands found their way to his shoulders, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in a world that had shifted beneath your feet. his lips were warm and soft, moving with a purpose that made your heart race. time seemed to stretch, the rest of the world fading into nothing as you lost yourself in him. it wasn’t rushed or hurried; it was slow, deliberate, filled with all the emotions you hadn’t been able to say out loud.

the moment lingered, your foreheads pressed together as your breaths mingled in the quiet intimacy of the room. rafe’s hands stayed on your face, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks as if he were memorizing every inch of you. his blue eyes burned into yours, filled with an intensity that made your heart race and your stomach flutter.

his lips brushed yours again—tentative, almost like a question. when you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss, the motion slow and deliberate. his lips moved against yours with a softness that contradicted the desperation in the way his hands held you, like you might disappear if he loosened his grip.

your fingers slid up from his shoulders, tangling in his hair as you tilted your head, giving him better access. he took the invitation greedily, his kisses growing bolder, more insistent. his hands left your face, one settling at the base of your neck while the other pressed gently against the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

when he finally broke the kiss, you were breathless, your lips tingling from the way he’d kissed you like he was afraid it might be his last chance. but he didn’t go far. his lips found your jaw, pressing soft, lingering kisses down its curve. “rafey,” you murmured, your voice barely audible as your head tilted instinctively, giving him more room.

the sound of his nickname, the one only you were allowed to use, on your lips seemed to spur him on. his kisses trailed lower, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear, where his lips lingered, warm and soft against your skin. a shiver ran through you, and you felt his smile against your neck, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“tell me to stop,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. but there was no hesitation in his voice, no real expectation that you would.

“don’t stop,” you replied, your fingers tightening in his hair.

he groaned softly, the sound low and rumbling, sending a wave of heat through you. his lips continued their journey, trailing down the column of your neck, his kisses deliberate and unhurried. he paused at the base of your throat, pressing a kiss there that was more reverent than anything else, like he was worshipping you.

your breath hitched as his lips moved lower, brushing against your collarbone. his hands shifted, one sliding to your waist, the other splayed against your back, keeping you anchored to him. his lips lingered on your collarbone, the warmth of his mouth contrasting with the cool air of the room.

“rafe, please,” you whispered again, your voice trembling.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with something you couldn’t quite name. his thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch gentle despite the fire in his gaze.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice raw and earnest.

a tear slipped down your cheek, and he caught it with his thumb, shaking his head slightly as if he couldn’t believe you were here, in his arms, letting him hold you like this.

“you don’t have to cry anymore,” he whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another to the opposite side. “i’ve got you now. you’re not going anywhere.” his words settled in your chest, a balm to the ache that had been there for years. you believed him. you felt it in the way he held you, the way he kissed you, the way he looked at you like you were his entire world.

his lips found yours again, this time softer, slower—like he was savoring you, trying to memorize the feel of you against him. his hand cradled the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair as his other hand rested at your waist, keeping you steady.

you melted into him, your hands gripping his shoulders as his warmth enveloped you. he kissed you like he was afraid to rush, as though he wanted to take his time and show you everything he couldn’t put into words.

when he pulled back, his lips hovered just above yours, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. his thumb brushed your cheek, his touch impossibly tender.

“i’ve thought about this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “about you. about us. for years, i thought i’d lost you for good.” his blue eyes searched yours, his vulnerability shining through.

“i’m here now,” you replied softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “and i’m not going anywhere.”

he let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours as if grounding himself in your presence. “i don’t deserve you,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “not after everything i’ve done, after the person i’ve become.”

your heart ached at his words, at the pain you could hear in his voice. you cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “rafe,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you. “you deserve love, just like anyone else. and i’ve always believed in you. always.”

a tear slipped down his cheek, and you caught it with your thumb, your heart breaking and mending all at once. he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as if he was letting your words sink in.

“i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he whispered, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. “if you’ll let me.”

you didn’t answer with words. instead, you closed the distance between you, kissing him with a softness that spoke volumes. he responded immediately, his hands sliding down to your hips as he pulled you closer. the kiss deepened naturally, his lips moving against yours with a newfound urgency, but still gentle—always gentle with you. his hands remained steady on your waist, grounding you as his lips traveled once more, pressing kisses along your jaw, down the curve of your neck.

you tilted your head, giving him more access as his lips found the sensitive spot beneath your ear. a soft sigh escaped you, and you felt his smile against your skin. “you’re incredible,” he whispered against your neck, his voice low and filled with awe. “every piece of you. i don’t know how i got so lucky.”

your fingers found their way into his shirt, tugging gently as his kisses trailed lower, to the hollow of your throat. his lips pressed there for a moment, lingering as if the feel of your heartbeat beneath his lips anchored him. when he finally pulled back to look at you, his eyes were darker now, filled with a mix of emotions—adoration, desire, and something deeper, something that made your stomach flutter.

“you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this,” he murmured, his hands sliding up to cradle your face again. “to have you here, to hold you, to kiss you. i thought i’d never get this chance.”

“you have me now,” you said softly, your voice trembling with the weight of the moment. “i’m yours, rafe. always.”

the words seemed to shatter something in him. he leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss—this one more heated, more desperate, as if he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every unshed tear into the connection. his hands wandered to your back, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you deeper, his lips leaving no part of yours unexplored. when he finally broke away, his lips trailed along your jaw, to the sensitive spot below your ear, down your neck, and finally to your collarbone.

you shivered under his touch, your breath hitching as his hands skimmed your sides, his fingers brushing against your waist with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “you’re everything,” he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with reverence. “everything i’ve ever wanted.”

his touch seemed to grow bolder, his hands moving to the buttons of your blouse. you helped him, eager to feel the heat of his skin against yours. the fabric parted with a harsh tug, revealing the simple, lacy bra that had been hidden beneath. his eyes darkened as he took in the sight, his breathing growing ragged.

“so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. his fingers traced the edge of the lace, his eyes never leaving yours. the anticipation was almost unbearable, your heart racing as you waited for his next move.

when he finally did, it was with a gentle touch that belied the intensity in his gaze. he cupped one of your tits, his thumb brushing against the nipple until it tightened into a peak. you gasped at the sensation, arching into his touch. his praises grew more fervent as he played with your sensitive flesh, his voice a soft, muffled whisper that seemed to wrap around you as he pressed the surface of his tongue alongside the valley of your boobs, making you feel desired in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

his other hand found the zipper of your skirt, pulling it down with a slow deliberateness that had you squirming in anticipation. the fabric fell away, pooling around your ankles, leaving you in just your panties and bra. the look in his eyes was one of pure hunger, but it was tempered with a love so fierce it stole your breath away.

he leaned in, his mouth capturing one of your nipples through the lace, his tongue teasing it into a hardened point. you moaned, your hands fisting in his shirt. you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the wetness of his mouth, the roughness of the fabric against your sensitized flesh.

his hand slid down, hooking into the waistband of your panties. you lifted your hips slightly, allowing him to pull them down your legs. the coolness of the air against your bare cunt was an incredible contrast to the heat of his touch. you allowed him to pull your panties down, feeling exposed and vulnerable, yet safe in his arms.

his eyes traveled over your body, taking in every inch of you as if he were worshipping a goddess. his gaze made you feel powerful, beautiful, and utterly wanted. his hands found your hips, his thumbs digging in slightly as he tugged you closer to him. the fabric of his own clothes were rough against your skin, a reminder that this was real, that he was really here, touching you with a love that seemed to consume him.

his mouth moved down, kissing a path from your neck to your chest, pausing to worship each tit in turn. his teeth grazed the flesh gently, making you gasp as he sucked and nibbled. it was erotic, the way he took his time, savoring every moment as if it might be his last. you felt the ache between your legs, the wetness growing slicker with every kiss, every caress.

his hand slid down, his fingers slipping into your wetness, exploring your folds with a gentle yet firm touch. your eyes fluttered closed, your head falling back as he found your clit, stroking it with a precision that made your legs tremble. “fuck, rafe,” you moaned, your voice a breathless whisper.

he kissed you deeply, his hand never leaving your pussy as he began to rub circles around your clit, increasing the pressure with every pass. you could feel yourself getting closer, the tension building like the crescendo of a symphony. his thumb circled your clit as his forefinger slid into your wetness, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through your body.

his mouth moved to your ear, his breath hot and heavy. “i love you,” he whispered, the words sending a shiver down your spine. “i’ve loved you for so long. i wanna make you feel so good, to show you just how much you mean to me. can i?”

you nodded, unable to form words as the orgasm crashed over you, your body shuddering with the force of it. he didn’t stop, his hand moving faster, his thumb pressing harder until you were panting and trembling in his arms. when you finally stilled, he kissed you again, a gentle press of his lips to yours, his tongue sliding in to taste you.

his hands slid away, and you felt the loss acutely, but only for a moment. he stepped back, his own shirt and pants joining the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. his cock stood erect, showing you what you did to him in every sense of the word. you couldn’t help but stare, taking in the sight of him—his chiseled abs, the muscles in his arms, the way his chest rose and fell with every ragged breath.

“you’re so beautiful, rafe,” you whispered, your voice filled with awe.

his eyes never left yours as he stepped closer, his hands coming up to cradle your face again. “says you,” he murmured, the words a declaration that sent a thrill through your body.

his cock brushed against your stomach, hot and hard, and you reached for it, wrapping your hand around it. he groaned, his hips jerking slightly at the contact. you began to stroke him, your hand moving up and down in a slow, steady rhythm that had his eyes fluttering shut.

his hand slid down to your pussy again, his fingers finding your entrance. he slid one inside you, the sensation making you moan. he watched your face as he began to move it in and out, his thumb circling your clit. your breath grew shallow as the pleasure built again, your legs threatening to give out.

his eyes snapped open, a fierce love shining in their depths. “don’t think i’ll be able to stop myself,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “are you sure you can handle it?” you nodded, unable to form words. your heart was racing, your body more than ready for him. he kissed you once more, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance.

the first push was slow, deliberate, giving you time to adjust to his size. he groaned, his eyes never leaving yours as he inched inside you. it felt like coming home, like the missing piece of a puzzle sliding into place. the feeling was so intense that you had to bite your lip to keep from crying out. once fully seated, he paused, his chest heaving against yours. “are you okay?” he whispered, his voice strained with restraint.

you nodded again, feeling a mix of pleasure and pain as he stretched you. you reached up, pulling his head down for a deep, desperate kiss. “i’m okay, fuck. make love to me, rafe,” you urged.

his eyes searched yours for a moment before a fierce smile spread across his face. he began to move, his strokes long and slow, each one driving him deeper. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your nails digging into his back. the room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your gasps and moans mingling with the crash of the waves outside.

his hand found your tit again, his thumb teasing your nipple as his hips rocked against yours. he picked up the pace, the friction building a delicious ache deep inside you. “you’re so wet, so tight,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “feel so good, baby.”

the words spurred you on, your hips moving in sync with his. you could feel yourself getting closer again, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. “yes, rafe, yes!” you moaned, your voice echoing in the room. his hand slid down to your clit, his fingers moving in time with his thrusts. the sensation was almost too much for you to handle.

his strokes grew more erratic, his breathing more ragged, and you knew he was close. “gonna cum, baby,” he grunted, his eyes never leaving yours. “gonna fill your pussy up, make you mine forever.”

the raw possessiveness in his voice sent you over the edge. you came hard, your body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. he followed soon after, his cock pulsing inside you, filling you with his warmth.

you held onto him tightly, your breathing matching his, as the world outside the mansion faded away. it was just the two of you, connected in a way you’d never been before. as the aftershocks of your orgasm faded, you felt his weight shift, his body collapsing slightly against yours. it felt like the end to a dream, to something you’ve been chasing after your entire life, but it was only the beginning.

he didn’t pull out, and he wouldnt for a while. instead, he looked up at you, pushing away the sweaty strands of hair that stuck to your forehead. as he did so, his gaze dropped to the ring wrapped around your finger, slick with sweat. “pretty cheap for an engagement ring,” he murmured. “you should throw it out.”

you couldn’t help but frown, “why?”

“so that i can get you a better one.”

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

a/n: ok guys yes im aware that canon rafe would NOT be this sweet lovey dovey hopeless romantic but idgaf i have free will and tumblr so grease my feet

902 notes · View notes

thesecondhandwoman · 1 month ago

Note

I have so many thoughts and your writing is amazing so I’ve got another one for ya. I bet you can tell I’m obsessed with this women. Ambessa x f or nb!reader where the reader is from Zaun and is good at fighting but Ambessa doesn’t know, so when their house is raided Ambessa is really worried but finds out the reader can take care of her/themself. remember to drink some water and take care of yourself. ps. If these get annoying or are to much feel free to ignore me

-🧚‍♂️

HIDDEN STRENGTH

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis: You were Ambessa’s assistant, but also her secret lover beneath close quarters, and somehow, people who opposed Ambessa’s rule had found out, raiding the house when she was gone in hopes of using you for leverage.

Request: Anon 🤍

The sprawling Noxian estate was unusually quiet that day. Ambessa Medarda had left for an important meeting with her daughter, Mel, and while the weight of Noxian politics consumed her mind, you remained behind in her shadowed domain—a secret presence in her life that no one could quite place. To most, you were merely her loyal assistant, managing her demanding schedule and household with an unmatched precision.

But the truth ran deeper than anyone suspected. You were her lover, her hidden solace amidst the chaos of her public life. A woman from Zaun, soft-spoken and kind, you seemed an unlikely match for the indomitable Ambessa Medarda. Yet, behind closed doors, your relationship blossomed, a secret love forged in stolen glances, whispered words, and the unyielding loyalty you showed her.

Ambessa never questioned your strength. She saw you as her balance, a calming presence to temper her relentless ambition. What she didn’t know, however, was that beneath your gentle demeanor lay a fierceness born of necessity. The streets of Zaun had molded you into someone who could survive, someone who could fight. You had simply chosen not to share that part of yourself with her.

Until now.

It started with a knock.

The estate guards were usually diligent, but something about the sound sent a chill down your spine. You moved to investigate, leaving behind the stack of reports you’d been organizing for Ambessa. The second you opened the door, you knew something was wrong.

The man standing there didn’t belong. Dressed in rough, practical leather, his expression turned from false politeness to something much darker as he shoved his way inside. Behind him, more figures emerged—armed, purposeful, their gazes scanning the opulent interior with hungry intent.

Raiders.

Your heart sank as they advanced, slamming the door on the man’s face, locking it quickly while hearing their leader barking orders to seize the house and “find the assistant.” The plan was obvious: they intended to use you as leverage against Ambessa. But you had no intention of being anyone’s bargaining chip.

The dagger hidden beneath your blouse was in your hand before you even realized it. A relic of your past life in Zaun, it was something you’d carried with you out of habit, though it had gone unused for years. You took a steadying breath. The skills you’d buried deep were about to surface again, and you hoped they were just as good.

The fight was chaos.

The first man lunged at you, and you sidestepped with practiced ease, driving the hilt of your dagger into his temple. He crumpled to the floor as another attacker rushed you, his sword gleaming in the dim light. You ducked beneath his swing, sliding behind him and delivering a swift kick to the back of his knee. He stumbled, and you followed up with a sharp jab to his throat, leaving him gasping for air.

Another raider fired a gun, a rare weapon to be used in Noxus, the deafening crack echoing through the hall. The bullet grazed your thigh, a hot, searing pain ripping through your leg. You hissed in pain but didn’t falter. The injury slowed you, but you pressed on, using the estate’s layout to your advantage, ducking behind furniture, using the shadows to stay one step ahead.

By the time the dust settled, the house was a wreck. Broken furniture littered the floor, and the walls bore the scars of the battle. The raiders lay unconscious or groaning in defeat, scattered around the grand hall. You stood in the center of it all, blood dripping from the cut on your thigh, your chest heaving with exertion.

You had won. But the cost was clear. Your dress was torn, revealing bruises and scrapes, and your hands trembled as adrenaline coursed through your veins. You barely noticed the pain; your only thought was ensuring the house was secure before Ambessa returned.

When the news reached her, Ambessa was in the middle of discussing strategy with Mel. A guard interrupted, his expression grim, and Ambessa’s heart froze as he relayed the report: her estate had been raided. You had been there, alone.

Ambessa didn’t wait for details. She was on her feet in an instant, her expression darkening as she barked orders for her carriage to be readied. Mel, though concerned, didn’t press. She knew better than to interfere when her mother’s mind was set.

The ride back to the estate was a blur for Ambessa. Her mind raced with possibilities, each one more dreadful than the last. Were you alive? Hurt? Taken? The thought of losing you, of never being able to hold you again, clawed at her heart.

By the time the carriage pulled up to the estate, she was already moving, her long strides carrying her through the broken doors and into the grand hall.

Her breath caught at the sight of you.

You were still standing, albeit barely, your weight braced against the back of a chair. Blood stained the fabric of your dress where the cut on your thigh bled sluggishly, and bruises bloomed across your arms and face. But what struck Ambessa most was your expression, a mix of exhaustion and relief as your eyes met hers.

“Ambessa,” you rasped, your voice weak but steady.

She crossed the room in an instant, her hands reaching for you as though to confirm you were real. “You’re hurt,” she said, her voice trembling. “Gods, look at you. I should have been here. I should have—”

“Ambessa,” you interrupted, your tone soft despite your exhaustion. “I’m fine.”

“Fine?” she repeated, incredulous. Her hands gently cupped your face, her thumb brushing against the bruise on your cheek. “You’re bleeding, little one. You’re not fine.”

You let out a weak chuckle, the sound barely audible. “It’s just a scratch.”

Ambessa’s gaze dropped to the wound on your thigh, her jaw tightening. “A scratch? That’s a deep cut, and it’s still bleeding.” She knelt in front of you, her hands surprisingly gentle as she inspected the injury. “Why didn’t you call for help?”

“There wasn’t time,” you admitted, wincing as her fingers brushed the edge of the wound. “They were after me, Ambessa. They wanted to use me to get to you.”

Her hands stilled, and when she looked up at you, her expression was a storm of emotions—anger, guilt, fear, and something softer. “You shouldn’t have had to fight them alone.”

“I’m not as helpless as I look,” you said with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Zaun taught me how to take care of myself.”

Ambessa exhaled sharply, her hands moving to cradle your face again. “I know you’re strong,” she murmured, her voice softening. “But seeing you like this, knowing what could have happened, I can’t bear it.”

You leaned into her touch, your own hands coming to rest on hers. “I’m okay,” you whispered. “I promise.”

Ambessa’s resolve cracked, and she leaned forward, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a reassurance, a promise that she would never let anything like this happen again. Her hands slid to your waist, holding you close as though afraid you might disappear if she let go.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours. “I’ll have the medic tend to your wounds,” she said softly, already signaling to her guards. “And then we’ll talk about why you never told me you could fight like that.”

You chuckled weakly. “Didn’t think it would ever come up.”

Ambessa shook her head, a small, fond smile tugging at her lips despite the situation. “You’re full of surprises.”

“And you love me for it,” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her smile softened. “I do. More than anything.”

Sighing, Ambessa rose to her feet, gently pulling you upright with her. Her strong arms wrapped around your waist, supporting your weight as you winced at the sharp pain in your thigh. Her face was etched with worry, but she kept her touch tender, guiding you slowly toward one of the quieter, undisturbed rooms in the estate.

“We need to get you somewhere comfortable,” she murmured, her voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “The medic will be here soon. You’re not staying in this mess.”

You nodded weakly, leaning against her as she helped you walk. Despite the pain and exhaustion coursing through your body, you couldn’t help but feel comforted by her presence. Ambessa, ever the warrior, was rarely so openly vulnerable, but here she was—her brows furrowed with worry, her lips pressed into a thin line as though she blamed herself for everything.

When you reached one of the guest rooms, she carefully lowered you onto the plush couch. The room smelled faintly of lavender, the heavy drapes muting the noise of the chaos outside. She knelt in front of you, her eyes scanning your body for any other injuries she might have missed.

“Are you comfortable?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You offered a small smile, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’m fine, Ambessa. Really.”

Her jaw tightened, and she reached for a throw blanket draped over the back of the couch. Gently, she tucked it around you, her hands lingering on your shoulders as though afraid you might slip away. “You don’t have to act so strong all the time, little one,” she said, her voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. “You’ve been through enough for one day.”

“Coming from you?” you teased lightly, though your voice wavered from exhaustion. “That’s rich.”

Ambessa let out a soft chuckle, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Fair enough,” she admitted, her hand brushing against your cheek. Her thumb traced the edge of the bruise there, her expression darkening again. “I should’ve been here. I should’ve protected you.”

“Ambessa,” you said gently, reaching for her hand. “You couldn’t have known this would happen. And besides,” You gestured vaguely to the wreckage you’d left behind. “I handled it.”

She exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around yours. “You shouldn’t have had to handle it. You shouldn’t have been put in that position.”

Before you could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. The medic entered the room, a wiry Noxian man with a leather satchel slung over his shoulder. He froze briefly upon seeing Ambessa’s towering form but quickly regained his composure, bowing his head in respect.

“My lady,” he said. “I came as soon as I was informed.”

Ambessa stepped aside, though her gaze remained fixed on you. “Take care of her,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “And if anything seems worse than it looks, you’ll tell me immediately.”

The medic nodded, setting his bag down on the floor. He pulled out bandages, salves, and a small vial of antiseptic. “Let me take a look at that leg first,” he said to you, gesturing to the bloodied tear in your dress.

You hesitated, glancing at Ambessa. She gave you a reassuring nod, her hand resting on your shoulder. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “Let him help.”

With her encouragement, you relaxed, allowing the medic to carefully examine the cut on your thigh. He worked quickly but thoroughly, cleaning the wound with antiseptic and applying a numbing salve before beginning to stitch it. You bit down on your lip to stifle a hiss of pain, your fingers gripping the edge of the couch.

Ambessa knelt beside you, her hand wrapping around yours. “Squeeze as hard as you need to,” she said softly, her thumb brushing soothing circles over your knuckles. Her touch, firm and steady, grounded you as the medic worked.

When the stitching was done, the medic wrapped your thigh in clean bandages, then moved on to tend to the smaller scrapes and bruises on your arms and face. Ambessa remained by your side the entire time, her presence a constant comfort.

Finally, the medic packed up his supplies and stood. “The wound should heal well if it’s kept clean and undisturbed,” he said. “I’ll leave additional supplies in case any of the dressings need to be changed.”

“Thank you,” Ambessa said, her voice clipped but polite. She stood, towering over the medic, and gestured toward the door. “Leave us.”

The medic bowed again and exited the room, leaving you and Ambessa alone. She turned back to you, her eyes softening as she took in your tired form. Carefully, she sat on the couch beside you, her arm slipping around your shoulders.

“How do you feel?” she asked, her voice low and full of concern.

“Tired,” you admitted, leaning into her. The warmth of her body was a welcome relief after the ordeal. “But safe.”

Ambessa pressed a kiss to the top of your head, her lips lingering there for a moment. “You scared me,” she confessed quietly. “When they told me what happened, I thought,” Her voice trailed off, and she tightened her hold on you. “I can’t lose you, Y/N.”

“You won’t,” you said softly, turning to rest your forehead against her shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Ambessa’s hand gently stroked your back, her touch steady and reassuring. The weight of the day began to fade, replaced by the quiet comfort of being in her arms.

“I’m going to double the security around the estate,” she said finally, her voice tinged with steel. “And I’ll make sure everyone in Noxus knows what happens when they threaten me and ones closest.”

You smiled faintly, your eyes growing heavy. “Ever the warrior.”

She tilted your chin up, her gaze locking with yours. “For you, always.”

Leaning down, she kissed you again, this time slower, softer, as though trying to pour every ounce of her love and relief into the gesture. When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours, her breath warm against your skin.

“Rest now,” she murmured. “You need your rest after everything you’ve been through, little one.”

You nodded against her chest, letting out a soft sigh as you closed your eyes and softened into her touch. The last thing you heard before you were taken by a deep sleep was “I’ll be here when you wake.”

A/N: I absolutely loved writing this (hope it’s not too repetitive), and hope you guys enjoy reading it.

#ambessa x you #ambessa x reader #ambessa fanfic #ambessa medarda #ambessa #ambessa arcane #arcane ambessa #arcane fanfic #arcane #lesbian fanfic #lesbian #fluffy fanfic #fluff #hurt/comfort fanfic #hurt/comfort #fanfic writing #fanfic

637 notes · View notes

solelifauna · 3 months ago

Text

Definitely NOT Invincible (Yandere Invincible & Reader)

Pt.4

Where (Y/n) becomes an A to C student. It's not her fault tho! Blame it on the trauma.

ALSO, THANK YOU TO @oof-spoof FOR PRACTICALLY FUNDING THE INVINCIBLE SERIES!!! EVERYONE GIVE THEM SOME LOVE!!!

Mark grabbed the keys, sliding into the driver’s seat without a word, and you followed suit, exhaustion settling deep into your bones as you slumped into the passenger seat. As you buckled your seatbelt, he turned the ignition, the radio flicking on as he scrolled through channels until he landed on the familiar one, 96.5. The quiet drive began, with Mark’s fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel in time with the music, a rhythm that seemed at odds with the tense atmosphere filling the car.

You stared out the window, letting the passing scenery blur before you. Houses and shops you once thought would stand forever flew past, their vibrant facades a painful reminder of all you’d lose in the next five months. This town, this life—it was doomed.

Mark’s fingers slowed, and his eyes flicked toward you, his voice slipping in smoothly through the silence. “You seem a bit… off,” he said, his tone deceptively casual. “Stayed up late or something?”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, masking the churn of emotions beneath a neutral expression. “Just tired,” you replied shortly, hoping that would be enough.

He gave a low hum, a hint of amusement lacing his tone. “You sure?” he asked, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as they scanned your face. “You’ve been acting different lately. Jumpy, kind of… paranoid, maybe?”

The subtle accusation prickled at your nerves, and you tore your gaze away from him, fixing your eyes back on the road. “It’s just school,” you muttered. “And the tests. No big deal.”

But Mark’s voice didn’t lose that sharp edge. “Right,” he said, drawing out the word, as if savoring the slight tension in your voice. “Because that’s totally you. Ignoring me and Dad, breaking down in the arms of your friends you see in school everyday, and sitting at the dining table like a vegetable for hours.”

You tightened your grip on your seatbelt, willing yourself to stay calm. “Maybe I just need sometime to myself,” you replied, forcing yourself to sound nonchalant.

Mark didn’t respond right away, but you felt his gaze linger, heavy and assessing. You were painfully aware of his scrutiny, and each second under his gaze felt like it stretched into eternity. Then, he leaned back, lips curling in a faint smirk.

“Whatever it is,” he said softly, almost a whisper, but there was a chill behind his words that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’ll find out, (Y/n).”

The words hung in the air, charged with unspoken promises. You could feel his eyes on you, searching, prying, as if he were peeling back the layers of your mind to uncover whatever secrets you kept hidden. You forced yourself to look straight ahead, but his words echoed in your mind, sinking in like a thorn you couldn’t dislodge.

As you pulled up to the school, you felt as though you could barely breathe. Mark turned off the car, watching you with that same intense, unnerving gaze. “Don’t go doing anything you’ll regret,” he added, his tone light, almost playful, but the underlying menace was unmistakable.

With a tight nod, you opened the car door and stepped out, feeling his gaze bore into your back as you walked toward the school entrance. The hollow ache in your chest grew heavier, the knowledge that your own brother was already suspicious clawing at you. You had five months left before everything fell apart—and now, Mark was already starting to close in.

The moment you stepped out of the car, you quickened your pace, your feet carrying you across the parking lot toward the school entrance where Hallie, Connor, and Weston were waiting. You could feel Mark’s gaze burning into your back, heavy with suspicion, his presence like a dark cloud that followed you no matter how fast you walked. You forced yourself to keep your head down, ignoring the instinct to turn around and see if he was still watching.

As you neared your friends, a breath of relief slipped from your lips. Hallie caught your eye, giving you a small, knowing nod, and Weston nudged Connor, who was hunched over his phone. They could see the strain in your expression, the tension lingering around you, and immediately closed the distance, creating a small, protective circle.

“Everything okay?” Hallie asked quietly, her voice low but filled with concern. You managed a quick nod, brushing it off as best as you could.

“It’s… fine,” you said, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you.

They didn’t press further, but you could tell they were already on edge. They knew you well enough to sense when something was wrong, and your silence said plenty.

A few feet behind you, Mark had come to a stop, his arms folded as he leaned against the side of the car, watching you with that same unsettling intensity. He made no effort to hide it, his gaze fixed, sharp, studying your every move. A casual onlooker might not notice the tension in his stance, but you could feel it, the way he observed you with the quiet patience of someone biding their time.

Then, in a calculated move, Mark shifted his attention to a group of boys loitering by the side of the building—his so-called friends. They were loud, boisterous, and clearly thrilled to see him approach, clapping him on the shoulder and making crude jokes, the type he always pretended to enjoy. But you knew him too well; you saw the way he tolerated their company with a thinly veiled disdain, a quiet irritation masked by a charming grin.

One of the boys slapped Mark on the back, laughing too loudly at something Mark hadn’t even responded to. Mark flashed a smirk, humoring them, but his gaze darted back to you, subtle but piercing, as if ensuring you knew he was still watching. He laughed at some joke, a hollow sound, but his eyes never lost that calculated look, a hunter keeping track of his prey while biding his time.

Your shoulders tensed. Even surrounded by his friends, he seemed hyper-focused on you, as though he could sense your discomfort. You knew he was letting you go for now, but his patience wouldn’t last forever. Mark was never one to let things go unchecked, and with each passing second, his suspicion was sharpening, honing in on you.

Connor’s hand brushed against your arm, bringing you back to the present. “You good?” he asked, his voice a murmur, keeping it low so no one else could hear.

You forced yourself to breathe, nodding again. “Let’s get inside.”

Together, you and your friends made your way into the school, the familiar hum of voices and shuffling footsteps drowning out the tension outside. But even as the walls closed around you, shielding you from Mark’s stare, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d already set his sights on you, and he wouldn’t stop until he’d unraveled every secret you fought so hard to hide.

As you made your way through the bustling hallway, you leaned in close to Hallie, whispering, “We need to talk. Later.”

She nodded in agreement before heading off to her first class, Weston following in tandem.

With that, you and Conner head to your first class, nerves jolting and wired. For some reason your fight-or-flight was kicking in, pumping needless adrenaline through your body (it seemed like your body was always in fight or flight mode, never really stopping or calming down).

As you and Connor slipped into your seats, you forced yourself to look as composed as possible, even as your insides churned with anxiety. The entire classroom felt distant, almost surreal, as if you were watching it all through a fog. Your hands clenched the edge of your desk, a small attempt to ground yourself, to stop the insistent rush of adrenaline flooding your veins.

It was almost maddening, this constant state of vigilance, like your body couldn’t accept that, for now at least, you were safe. You knew Mark was out there somewhere, probably already listening with his enhanced hearing, his sharp ears tuned in for the slightest slip-up. He could be in any room, any hallway, eavesdropping without you even realizing it.

Soon, your math teacher, Mrs. Barnes entered, her heels clacking against the linoleum floor, as she began to set up for the day’s lesson. You took a shaky breath, forcing your focus on her as she scrawled equations across the whiteboard, her voice drifting around you as she launched into a review of yesterday’s formulas.

But as you tried to listen, to grasp the material, you hit a wall—a terrifying, absolute void where your memories of math should have been. The numbers blurred, sliding off your mind like water, and no matter how hard you focused, the information simply wouldn’t stick.

Panicking slightly, you scanned the board, hoping that maybe a familiar formula or concept would spark something. But it was like staring at a foreign language. The frustration gnawed at you, each failed attempt to remember only heightening your sense of dread. You looked over at Connor, your pulse racing, and found him already watching you, a look of shared panic in his eyes.

You could tell he was struggling too. He shook his head slightly, his mouth set in a grim line. He leaned down, pulling out his notebook and scribbling something quickly. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he slid it over to you.

Do you remember any of this?

You hesitated, your hand trembling as you wrote back.

Nothing. I can’t remember a single thing. It’s like…

You couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. It was as if everything you’d learned here—the academic knowledge, the normal parts of life—had simply been erased. Your mind was so conditioned to survive, to fight and endure, that it had discarded everything else. In a terrifying way, you were no longer the student you once were. You’d been reshaped entirely by the trauma of the last life.

Connor swallowed, looking down at the note. You watched as he took in the implications, his face growing paler with every passing second. Mrs. Barnes continued her lesson, unaware of the silent panic that rippled between you and Connor. The words she wrote on the board may as well have been gibberish. You didn’t even recognize half the terms she was using anymore, the definitions blurred or completely forgotten.

You turned your gaze to your textbook, flipping the pages with trembling fingers, hoping that something, anything, would stick. But all you could focus on was the sensation of being cornered, of being hunted. Your mind kept flitting back to those dark days in the resistance, to the endless battles, to the snap decisions you’d made just to stay alive. It was like your brain had rewired itself, discarding anything that didn’t serve the immediate need to survive.

Connor nudged you, snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts, and he quickly scribbled another note.

This is bad. What are we supposed to do if we can’t even remember the basics?

You tried to take a calming breath, but it came out shaky. He was right. You were barely keeping up this façade of normalcy as it was. If you couldn’t handle school, you’d stand out even more. Mark would notice. Your parents would notice. Teachers would start asking questions. People would wonder what had happened to you.

We’ll figure something out, you wrote back, though even you weren’t convinced.

It seems like you’ve said that same sentence too many times though with no real solutions.

But before you could come up with a more reassuring answer, Mrs. Barnes turned toward your row, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the classroom. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly shifted your gaze to the board, hoping she hadn’t noticed the exchange.

“Connor, (Y/n). Is there something you’d like to share with the class?” she asked, her tone pointed.

You straightened in your seat, forcing a tight smile. “No, ma’am. Just—trying to catch up.”

She held your gaze for a moment longer than you liked, suspicion flickering in her eyes, but eventually she turned back to the board, resuming her explanation. You exchanged a glance with Connor, both of you silently relieved.

But the relief was short-lived. The void in your mind loomed larger, a terrifying reminder of the life you’d left behind—and the life you couldn’t fully return to. It was becoming painfully clear that you weren’t just out of practice or distracted, no, something fundamental had changed inside you. You were something else entirely now, someone forged in battle and scarred by the horrors of survival.

The lesson droned on. You could only hope that whatever pieces of your old self remained would be enough to keep everyone safe, long enough to figure out how to stop the coming shit show.

Finally, the bell rings, a sharp burst of sound cutting through your thoughts, you quickly gather your things, grateful for the temporary reprieve from your spiraling thoughts. You and Connor exchange a brief, tense look before parting ways. You both have too much to figure out, too many gaps to fill, but there’s no time now.

Your next class, Entry Biology, is in another part of the building, tucked into a quieter wing. The halls are buzzing with students, their voices overlapping in casual conversations that feel alien to you, like a language you no longer fully understand. You keep your gaze down, trying to blend in as best as you can, making your way through the sea of faces and finding your classroom near the end of the corridor.

You step inside, spotting a seat at the back of the room. With no assigned seating, you slip into it, hoping it’ll give you some measure of privacy. As you set your bag down, you can’t remember if this was your usual seat or not. The details of your day-to-day routine from this life feel like a distant memory, blurring with the harsh reality of your previous one. If someone had taken this seat before, they’d just have to ask you to move. For now, you’re hoping they’ll leave you alone.

The room gradually fills with students, but no one seems to notice or care that you’re there. You breathe a small sigh of relief, your mind still reeling from the earlier realization that your memory has turned selectively barren. Biology… you struggle to recall the basic concepts, things that should be easy.

Mitosis? Ecosystems? Even the Cell Cycle feels slippery in your mind. The memories just won’t solidify. Your mind instinctively drifts back to the knowledge that does stick, but it’s all survival tactics, the hollow echo of combat drills, the weight of loss, and the survival instincts that you can’t shake.

Your teacher, Mr. Halloway, enters the room, adjusting his glasses as he sets down his materials on the desk. He’s a calm, unassuming presence with an easygoing manner that normally might have put you at ease. But today, you find it hard to focus, the anxiety lingering from earlier gnawing at you as he begins writing on the board.

“Alright, class, today we’re going to dive into cell structures and the basics of cell function,” he says, the chalk scratching faintly as he writes. “Let’s start with the organelles—things like the mitochondria, nucleus, and chloroplasts in plant cells.”

Okay! You knew about the Mitochondria: powerhouse of the cell.

You stare at the board, the words and diagrams meaningless in your mind, like someone dumped them there without context. There’s a flicker of recognition, but it feels shallow, inaccessible. You remember how cells look under a microscope, how textbooks diagram them out with labeled parts, but the function of each organelle slips through your grasp. Your heart sinks as you realize it isn’t just math—you really don’t remember anything.

You fish your phone out of your bag, concealing it beneath the desk, and quickly type a message to Your group chat.

(Y/n): Can’t remember anything from class feels like my brain’s wiped

A few seconds pass before Weston’s reply comes in.

Westy My Bestie: Same here

Can’t remember jack shit

Halligator: This is bad

Geometry is my best subject and now i can't even remember simple theorems

Ppl r gonna get sus

You read their responses, your grip on the phone tightening. At least you’re not alone in this, but it doesn’t ease the gnawing anxiety that your memories are failing you. The bell signaling the end of class is a lifeline, and you’re the first one out the door, weaving through the crowded hallway with your thoughts spinning.

The final bell rings for lunch, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Your last two classes so far, AP Human Geography and English I, had been easier to handle, but that gnawing feeling of something missing never left.

Geography was more about concepts, patterns of human behavior, and interactions rather than memorized facts, so you managed to piece together enough to get by. English, luckily, was more focused on analysis than strict recall, so your rusty memory didn’t hinder you as much. But the underlying dread still weighed on you, a nagging reminder that anything concrete, anything involving details you should remember, seemed out of reach.

You step into the hallway, the crowd surging around you, and immediately spot Weston waiting outside his classroom. He raises a hand in greeting, a familiar face amid the chaos, and together, you head toward the cafeteria. The line’s already growing, students chatting and joking around.. You scan the serving trays, landing on the day’s special: some sort of chicken sandwich with fries and a bag of chips.

A smile tugs at your lips despite the morning you’ve had; after living off scraps and rations in your past life, a hot meal—even a school cafeteria one—was a blessing. The memory of tearing open a ration pack, forcing down tasteless blocks of compressed food, flashes through your mind, and you’re struck by how strange it feels to have choices again.

Once you’ve paid for your food, you and Weston make your way through the bustling cafeteria and out into the open-air courtyard. It’s refreshing to be outside, where the air feels less claustrophobic and you can catch glimpses of the autumn leaves turning golden, the first hints of fall in the cool breeze. You spot Connor and Hallie already sitting at your usual table, near the far edge of the courtyard, both of them eating like they haven’t seen food in days.

"Hey," you greet them, sliding into the seat beside Connor while Weston sits across from you. You unwrap your sandwich, taking a hesitant bite. The flavors hit your taste buds, far better than anything you’d had during the rebellion. It was still a cafeteria meal, but right now, it might as well have been gourmet.

Hallie looks up from her sandwich, barely swallowing before launching into conversation. "God, you guys have no idea how weird today’s been." She glances around, ensuring no one’s within earshot before she continues. "I feel like I’m flunking every single class. I don’t remember anything useful."

Connor nods in agreement, his expression grim. “Same here. It’s like my brain’s refusing to do anything academic. Anything beyond survival skills… it’s just blank.”

Weston, who’s been munching on his fries, glances up, his face thoughtful. "Maybe it’s some kind of psychological thing? Like, we’re all for sure traumatized and now that we’re back, we’re struggling to fit in? Doesn’t the brain forget non-vital info under extreme stress or something?"

You nod, considering his theory, but it doesn’t offer much comfort. If this was some side effect of trauma, it was leaving you dangerously exposed.

"It makes sense," you admit, trying to keep your voice steady. "But it’s going to be hard to keep up the act if we can’t remember even basic things. Especially with…” Your voice trails off, not wanting to say his name out loud.

But Connor catches your drift. “Mark,” he mutters, a tense silence settling over the group. “He’s been watching you, hasn’t he?”

"Yeah," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "He knows something’s up. He hasn’t figured out what, but he’s… suspicious."

Hallie��s eyes narrow, and her jaw clenches as she takes a sharp breath. "We need a plan, and fast. It’s one thing to keep low in class, but Mark? He’s not just anybody. If he thinks there’s something to find out, he’ll find it."

Your stomach twists as you think back to his words from that morning: “Whatever it is, I’ll find out, (Y/n).” You remembered the look in his eyes, the way he seemed to study you, his gaze cold and calculating, false care in his voice, like you were nothing more than a puzzle to be solved.

"Maybe," Weston says slowly, breaking the silence, "we could take a more passive approach. You know, let him think he’s figured you out. Act dumb or, like, make mistakes on purpose. Lead him onto a false answer."

Connor raises an eyebrow, considering it. "Might work, but it’s risky. If he thinks he’s being played, he won’t hold back.

You nod at Weston, “I think its worth a shot. We’re all screwed either way, so what's the harm?”

After your statement, everyone falls into a comfortable silence; most likely retreating into their own minds.

You continue eating in silence, the sounds of laughter and conversations around you feeling distant, like a world you’re no longer part of. Each bite you take tastes more and more hollow.

Finally, Connor breaks the silence again. “We need to figure out how we’re going to warn the Guardians. Without tipping off Mark or Omni-Man.”

You nod, your mind already spinning with ideas and doubts.

“We have to get a message to them somehow. We could use anonymous tips, maybe? Something that won’t trace back to us?” Hallie shoots out.

Weston shrugs. “Anonymous tips work in movies, sure, but this is real life. They’ll get curious, and then the government and Guardians will find out it was us. Plus, Omni-man and Invincible are two highly respected and trusted heroes, there's no guarantee they’d even believe the warning we send.”

“Weston has a point,” You say. “But, it doesn't matter. If they believe us or not, at least they’ll have the thought in the back of their minds. Even if it comes back to us, at least the Guardians will know.”

Because in a world where the clock is ticking, and survival is the only option—there’s no time left to be selfish over your own lives.

#neglected reader #platonic yandere #yandere invincible #yandere omniman #yandere mark grayson #yandere nolan grayson #debbie grayson #mark grayson #nolan grayson #omni man #invincible x reader #invincible

481 notes · View notes

ahgasegotarmy116 · 10 months ago

Text

Shut Up and Kiss Me | Jeon Jungkook One Shot

Summary: You've been Jungkook's best friend for literal decades but what happens when it turns out he wants to be more than just friends... Pariring: Backup Dancer Reader x Idol Jungkook (f2l they're honestly crackheads I love them) Word Count: 13.4k (Daym 😂) Warnings: Explicit language and sexual content yup that's it haha a/n: I got way too carried away with this but I honestly wouldn't have it any other way. Let me know what you guys think! Also barely edited but that's pretty much the usual here lol Requested by an anon 💜

"Alright ladies that's a wrap!" the lead choreographer calls out. "Thank you all so much for your hard work these past few weeks. I know this is going to be a comeback that'll go down in history!" he continues and we give ourselves a round of applause before I head over and get my dance bag and get ready to go.

"Someone's eager to get out of here" my best friend/roommate Nari teases. "I already told you I'm headed home for the weekend" I say, sitting down and changing my dance shoes into my sneakers. "Oh right, you should go see your in laws too" she teases, bumping her shoulder against mine while she does the same.

"Hey not so loud! Not everyone knows that Jungkook and I are close like that and I'd like to keep it that way. Plus we're just friends alright" I scold, looking around to see if anyone had caught wind of what she'd said. "I never said anything about Jungkook, you did" she says leaving me biting my tongue and realizing that I risked outing myself all on my own.

"I hate you" I huff and stand up to go but she grabs onto my pant leg to stop me. "No you don't" she laughs. "Be sure to bring back some of your mom's cooking" she reminds me leaving me rolling my eyes at her. "Yeah yeah I know, I'll see you later alright" I say, grabbing my bag and putting the strap around my shoulder while she waves goodbye and starts talking to some of the other dancers.

~~~~~

Walking down the hall I happen to run into Jungkook and Taehyung walking down the hall and I bow politely at both of them and they do so as well before passing each other by. "Check your phone" Jungkook whispers and I nod my head, not turning around in an effort to not cause suspicions.

"Wait is that her?" I hear Taehyung say as they walk away and all I hear moments later is Taehyung crying out in pain when I walk through the elevator doors. Turning back around, now facing them again Jungkook gives me a nervous smile and I laugh in return before leaning over towards the key panel and pressing G for garage.

Stepping out of the elevator and walking up to my car I get an all too familiar chime on my phone signaling a new message and smile once I unlock my phone.

'Working hard today? ' Jungkook sends.

'Don't I always work hard? ' I reply, putting on my seatbelt and starting up the car, making my way to the exit, my drive only being about ten minutes away to my apartment.

'Yeah your cheeks just looked extra flushed and your hair was a mess.' he teases, making me open my mirror on the sun visor, checking my hair at the red light, seeing nothing a miss with my hair but taking note of those flushed cheeks he mentioned.

'Whatever Jeon. After having seen you walking around with Taehyung definitely brought you down a few points. That man is gorgeous!' I throw back, knowinghow pouty he gets when I compliment his members. Or anyone else for that matter.

'Hey leave him out of this! I thought I looked pretty handsome today though...guess my efforts were in vein' he send and I can just imagine the facial expression he's making.

'You did look handsome Jeon but stop fishing for compliments, it doesn't suit you' I send back, complimenting him while also reprimanding him, a skill I've used time and time again when it comes to him.

Minutes later I pull into my parking spot at the apartments, quickly running upstairs to take a shower and get ready to head out, all the while Jungkook and I have been exchanging messages back and forth, well apart from me being in the shower of course.

As I put the finishing touches on my makeup and check out my outfit one last time I see an incoming FaceTime call from none other than the man himself.

"Hey!" I say, propping the phone up and walking around my room to gather up any last minute things.

"Hey! You look nice, well compared to earlier today" he says, his nose scrunching up, amused by his own words leaving me scoffing at him. "Where are you headed?" he ask seeing as I won't dignify his earlier words with a response.

"I'm about to head out to Busan to see my parents. I haven't been there for a while and my mom has been begging me to come visit for a while now. You know she's still mad at you for stealing me away from them on my birthday right?" I laugh, remembering the look on my mom's face as he was tugging me out the door.

"Yeah but we had fun right? Remind me to apologize next time I see her" he says, rubbing the back of his neck and I laugh at the bashful mannerism.

We continue on our conversation for a while and only when I hear another voice coming in on Jungkook's side do I remember that I've gotta get going.

"Hey! Why are you hiding in here? Our break was over ages ago and we need you to come record some more backing vocals" the voice I can now identify as Jimin scolds getting clearer as he no doubt comes closer.

"I'll be out there in a minute just lemme finish up this call" he says and tries to angle the phone away from Jimin to hide who he's talking to.

"Who's that?" he asks and I can see a slight flush of color bloom on Jungkook's cheeks leaving Jimin laughing when he realizes who it is. "Hi y/n!" he calls out and I laugh after seeing Jungkook roll his eyes at him.

Jimin and I met a while ago when he found out Jungkook was going to Busan and wanted to tag along, not having realized that I was doing the same thing.

"Hi Jimin!" I say happily and Jungkook sends me a quick glare through the phone. "Let's all go out soon! It feels like we haven't seen each other in ages!" he calls out and at that Jungkook starts to shoo him out.

"Alright hyung give me two minutes and I'll be right out" he says, giving him a look telling him to get out or suffer the consequences.

"Bye y/n!" he giggles and I return it saying a quick goodbye and acknowledging his invitation as well. "Bye Jimin! Time and place and I'll be there!" I finish off and he says goodbye one last time before I hear what I can assume is a door closing behind him.

"I should probably get going" I say, picking my up bag and grabbing the phone as well, glancing around one last time before putting my shoes on and walking out to the car. "Are you driving?" he questions and I confirm it as I unlock the doors and get inside, setting my phone in the dashboard mount.

"Drive safe alright! I heard it might get a little stormy out there so be careful" he warns and I nod my head while putting my seatbelt on, smiling at his slightly worried expression. "And how might you know that already?" I tease, surprised at how he could've checked since this is the first time we've spoken about this trip.

"My mom called me to complain about the weather the other day" he groans, rubbing his temple almost as if he was having flashbacks of what looks to have been a not so pleasant conversation.

"Maybe I should stop by? It's been a while since I've seen them" I suggest, remembering how Nari teased me about it earlier. "Sure! I'll let her know that you'll be there for a few days" he says and I nod while turning on the car and pulling out onto the road.

"You should probably get going too though right?" I question, laughing at the fact that he looks as though he's making himself more comfortable on the couch he's sitting on instead of making moves to head out. "Nah I should be good for another ten, they've probably moved onto the next member by now" he yawns and I laugh at his carefree nature.

"Don't you guys have a comeback coming up?" I question, trying to remind him of the responsibility he has to his team. "It's just a single so ten more minutes won't hurt" he winks making me clear my throat and focus more on the road.

We continue our conversation for that ten minutes he was sure he would be afforded before the next member comes in and scolds him, this time being Taehyung. "Who are you talking to?" is all he says before Jungkook says a quick goodbye and hangs up the call. "That man really wants to keep me away from Taehyung" I say out loud, shaking my head at his panicked expression.

Although Jungkook and I work in the same industry he still likes to hide our friendship from the rest of the company and the public in general. He's an idol and I know he wants to protect me but it's still makes me a little sad that I'm not able to meet the rest of his members, or at least not officially.

I've seen them all in passing throughout the building as I'm hired to be a backup dancer in most comebacks but I have yet to be included in one for BTS. I know it's probably for that same reason of him wanting to keep me safe but I wish he wouldn't.

I want the both of us to work freely and when possible to work together but I'll respect his wishes no matter what. At the end of the day he's the one that'll pay the price if rumors about us were to spread.

He's my best friend and I don't want anything to happen to him so if having our friendship be a secret is the way to protect him then I'll do everything I can to make sure it stays that way.

~~~~~~

As I pull up to my parent's house I see my mom eagerly waiting for me with the front door open and waving for me to come inside.

"Hurry up it's freezing out there, you'll catch a cold from that rain" she call out when I open my car door. "Nice to see you too mom" I chuckle and once I get inside she's already helping me get my rain jacket off. "Let's get out out of these wet clothes right away, I don't want you to spend what little time you have here coughing up a storm" she nags.

Always the charmer that one.

I know she means well but I just wish she would stop worrying so much. I'm a grown woman I can take care of myself. Before I'm even able to say hello to my father she's already rushing me to go into my room and get changed. "Hurry up and get dressed! Dinner's gonna be ready soon" she says while turning around and heading back into the kitchen to finish everything up.

Walking into my childhood bedroom always hits me with a wave of nostalgia especially when I see all of the pictures I have in here. Pictures as me growing up throughout the ages and noticing how Jungkook is in almost every one of them, always making me smile.

We've known each other ever since he moved into the neighborhood. We were about five years old back then and here we are, twenty five years old and our friendship is stronger than ever.

We met one day on the playground at recess when he was drawing pictures with the sidewalk chalk and I had been playing hopscotch with some of the girls in my class not too far away.

I walked up to him because I noticed he had been all by himself and I wanted to see if he wanted to play with us. He said no because he wanted to keep drawing and so I sat and watched him for a while until I asked him about what he was drawing and from that moment on we became best friends.

We would take the bus home together and take turns going to each other's houses after school and it felt as though my day never felt fully complete if I didn't see him at least once.

We were about eleven years old when he told me he wanted to be a singer and from that day I was his number one fan. Always encouraging him to sign up for talent shows at school and listening to him sing when he wanted to show me a new song he learned and that's also when I started to find my love for dance.

I couldn't really sing, well I could never sing as well as he could so I decided to start dancing. He would sing and I would come up with random routines and it would go round and round like that.

I did it mostly to make him laugh but soon he wanted to join in with me and so we became a duo. We didn't perform for anyone other than our parents when they begged us to so it was almost as if it was our little secret. Just something for the two of us.

When he heard about the show Superstar K having auditions I was the first one to tell him he should try out. He wanted us to audition together but I reminded him that he was the one who could sing. He wanted me to learn but I told him this was his moment and he needed to do it on his own.

I knew from a young age that he was going to be something special and I wasn't going to get in the way of that.

I went with him to the audition and he did amazing but he didn't make it. He didn't have the confidence in himself but I knew that if he just tried his hardest that even if he didn't make it into the show it would still put eyes on him.

When he finished his audition I saw the amount of people coming to give him offers. Seven companies wanted him to audition and I couldn't have been prouder of him!

"How do I even start to figure out which one to choose?" he complained as he shuffled through all the business cards he had been given. "Well take a look at the artists they have under their label, that might be a good place to start" I suggested and that night the two of us spent hours looking up and listening to track after track from all the different groups until our brains hurt.

"This is gonna take forever" he groaned, plopping down on his bed, exhausted after a full day of it and I can't deny that I was feeling the same way. "How about this" I say gathering all the cards up into a stack and fanning them out with the company names faced down so neither of us could see.

"Pick a card, any card" I joked and he chuckles before finally grabbing one and putting it to his chest, not daring to look just yet. I stand next to him and we both take a big breath in and out before he reveals it and the words of what would end up being his future stared us right in the face.

"Big Hit?" he questions having sounded out the english words clumsily, "What does that mean?" he asks, looking over at me like I have all the answers and luckily this time I did. "It means like really popular, like if a song comes out and everyone likes it and they always play it on the radio or something then it's a big hit" I explain and he watches me with those adorable doe eye taking in each and every word.

"So if I want to be a big hit then that means that starting with this label would be a good idea right?" he asks, tilting his head, awaiting my approval. "I mean you would think so right?" I respond and that was the last push he needed to go ahead and audition.

And thanks to our little nonsensical way of going about choosing he really did become a big hit. It took some time and a lot of effort but he made it!

"Y/n! Dinner!" my mother yells, breaking me out of my walk down memory lane. "I'll be out in a sec!" I yell back and pull off my damp shirt and replace it with a hoodie, which ironically ends up being one that Jungkook let me "borrow" even though he knew he was never gonna get it back.

"Come on y/n it's getting cold" she yells again and I have to shake my head, trying to physically will myself to stop thinking about him now but it's hard not to. Everything about this house reminds me of him, and I like it that way.

~~~~

After dinner and being bombarded with question after question about my life and job and everything the conversation somehow circles back to Jungkook. "How's he doing? He's become such a handsome young man hasn't he?" she says, elbowing my father who gives a slight grunt of approval having been focused on the tv watching some sort of sports game.

"He's alright. I saw him at work when I was leaving and then we talked on the phone a bit while I was packing up to come here" I say and her eyes light up at that fact. "Sounds like you two are still close huh?" she says in a knowing way which makes me groan. "Come on mom you know it's not like that. Jungkook is my friend" I say, taking a drink of water.

"Yeah but friends can become...friendlier" she teases making me choke on my water. "You okay sweetie?" my dad asks, now having turn his attention back to me during the commercial break. "Yeah mom is just teasing me about Jungkook again" I say, taking the napkin he's offered me.

"Well he is a fine young man y/n. Are you guys still close?" he asks and I face palm, both of them being a carbon copy of the other when it comes to him. "Yes dad we're still best friends. Are we done here? I would prefer to keep the interrogation to a minimum while I'm here" I say pushing my chair out and starting to clear the dishes away.

"Oh you know we're just joking. It's nice to see that you're still friends though, regardless of anything else" my mom says while bumping my shoulder just like Nari had. "Me too" I mumble and think about all the memories we've made together since I moved to Seoul.

With all that distance between us while I was living in Busan and even with him being caught up in the whirlwind that is the music industry we never lost touch.

There were times where his responses would be a bit sporadic but it would always be around comeback time when that would happen or sometimes at odd hours while he was on tour but we never went more than a few days without exchanging at least a message or two.

He made that promise to me the day he went to Seoul.

He promised me we would never lose touch and that we would always be there for each other and to this day we've never faltered. I know he's someone I can count on and he sure as hell can count on me too. It's us against the world. It always has been and it always will be.

~~~~

Finishing up the night spending some quality time with my parents was just what I needed. Even with all the prodding and teasing and interrogations it was still something that healed a part of me that I tended to overlook.

I've felt homesick since I left to Seoul and coming back here just makes it even more apparent so that's what keeps me away. I try to convince myself that the longer I stay away from home the better I'll start to feel but that never works. The only thing that does the trick is when I spend time with him.

Jungkook has become my little home away from home and whenever I'm with him that melancholy feeling tends to fade away and I can never thank him enough. I've never told him that but I hope that in some way I could be that for him too.

~~~~

When I wake up in the morning I text Jungkook and ask him if his mom said it would be alright for me to come over and he surprisingly answers right away.

'Yeah she said she'd love to have you and said that sometime this evening would work well' He relays so I make a mental note of it and spend the rest of the morning and afternoon with my parents before I head out to the Jeon's.

"Tell them we say hello and don't forget to give her the tea that I gave you, and try not to stay out too late, there's a storm coming in and you don't wanna get caught out in it" she calls out to me while I walk to my car. "I'll let you know when I'm on my way home" I say and give her one last wave before getting in the car and taking off.

When I reach their house I'm surprised to see a big black van outside the house but nonetheless walk up to the door anyways and ring the doorbell.

"You're here!" I'm met with a comfy looking Jungkook in a matching grey sweatsuit with a smile painted on his face. "What are you doing here?" I ask, giving him a huge hug right away. It feels like it's been ages since I've actually been able to be this close to him.

"When I heard you were coming home this weekend I realized that I should come too since I had the whole weekend off" he says, swaying as he hugs me and props his head on top of mine.

"You could've told me! I wouldn't have minded waiting to come up today" I say and he shakes his head chuckling at the suggestion. "And risk making your mom mad at me again? No thanks. Plus it wouldn't have been a surprise if I told you" he says and I lean back to look up at him.

"You know I hate surprises" I say, furrowing my brow and he pokes me in the forehead to make me stop. "Your adorable reaction says otherwise" he teases and at that his mother walks towards us. "Jungkook I told you to let her in, not make her stand in the entryway. Y/n it's so good to see you" she says giving me a big hug and dragging me further into the house.

"Would you like any coffee or tea? It's freezing out there" she says, wrapping her cardigan around herself in an effort to keep out the cold. "Tea would be great, which reminds me my mother told me to bring this to you" I say, handing her the jar of honey yuzu tea.

"Oh we had talked about this the other day! Thank you so much, why don't you go ahead and join the others and I'll bring it out to you in a minute" she says and scurries off to the kitchen.

"Others?" I ask, turning to face Jungkook who had been trailing behind us. "You'll see" he says with a devious smile and leads me towards the growing noises of a conversation being had in the other room.

"Aye what took you so long?" Jimin says, standing up and giving me a huge hug making Jungkook have to step to the side to avoid being knocked over. "I didn't know that you guys were gonna be here otherwise I would've come sooner" I laugh and Jungkook taps Jimin twice on the shoulder as a clear sign for him to let go.

"Try not to smother her, she wasn't expecting to see any of us" he says making Jimin pull away and give him a wary look that I can't really read but I go on to look around the rest of the room and am met with six more pairs of eyes.

"Oh, um hello" I say as I look around the room and see the rest of the members seated around the room who had been visiting with Mr. Jeon.

"It's been a while hasn't it?" Mr. Jeon says warmly and gives me a gentle embrace. "It has. I'm sorry, I don't come home often and when I do my mom holds me hostage" I admit and him as well as all the guys watching us laugh making me recoil a bit from the unexpected attention and end up bumping into Jungkook's chest.

"Well I'll let you young people have your fun" he says and places a hand on Jungkook's shoulder before making his way into the kitchen to be with his wife.

"You alright?" Jungkook asks and I look up at him and nod, my breathing having gone shallow from our close proximity with my back still against his chest along the 6 person audience we now have. "Just take a deep breath. They'll love you I promise" he whispers and he guides me in the rest of the way and begins introducing me.

"Guys this is y/n, y/n these are my members" he says and is quickly cut off with an arm being thrown around his neck. "Aye! Aren't we more than just your members? I thought I raised you better than that" Jin says while ruffling Jungkook's already fluffy hair.

"Alright, alright get off me" Jungkook groans as he shoves Jin off playfully. "Y/n these are my hyungs" he corrects and at that theres a collective nod amongst the rest. "You already know all of their names so yeah" Jungkook says, scratching the back of his neck and I smile as I see the tips of his ears are getting a bit red.

"Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin and Taehyung I'm one of the backup dancers that HYBE employs every once in a while so I'm pretty familiar with you all or at least I know a lot about you I mean I-" "It's very nice to meet you y/n" Namjoon says, cutting off my nervous rambling right from the start.

"You guys too! Jungkook talks about you all so much that I almost feel like I know you already" I say and they all smile at that. "We feel the same way, Jungkook never shuts up about you" Taehyung says and I can feel Jungkook stiffen behind me and I smile, happy but somehow nervous having learned that information.

"Hyung, a word?" Jungkook says, singling out the one that's closest in age to him and I can see Taehyung's whole body droop before he gets up, realizing the kind of scolding he's bound to get.

Once they leave I'm left with the other five but luckily Jimin is still here so I'm not totally alone. "So y/n Jungkook tells us you've been friends since you were kids right?" Jin asks, starting the conversation off smoothly so as to not put too much pressure on me.

"Yeah! We met when we were about five years old. It really feels like I've know him my whole life" I say, smiling shyly and Jimin takes the initiative of leading me over to sit on one of the arm chairs. "Twenty years is definitely a long time. It's crazy how you guys have been able to stay friends that long with him being an idol and all that" Hoseok says, elbows rested on his knees almost fascinated at the thought.

"Well he made a promise to me before he went to Seoul and promises are very important to us" I say and they all nod, having experienced the same with him since they had known each other for ages already as well. "So you guys are best friends right?" Namjoon asks, leaning forward as well, as if he's working his way up to asking another question.

"I mean yeah, it's kind of embarrassing but besides him and my roommate I don't really have any other friends. Well I mean I have the dancers I work with but they're more colleagues than anything" I relay and they give me a sad smile.

"Yeah that seems to be the case when you work in this industry but hey any friend of Jungkook is a friend of ours as well so you just gained six more friends to add to the list!" Hoseok chimes in.

"Thank you guys that really means a lot to me. I've just been so career minded that I haven't really taken time to make new friends" I say and I'm met with a strong hand on my shoulder making me look up and see a smiling Jungkook looking down at me. "Luckily I'm here though right?" he asks almost as if my words had made him a little insecure.

"Of course! You'll always be my best friend. Nothing and no one will ever change that" I say, placing my hand on top of his and giving it a firm squeeze.

Something Jungkook always seems to need is reassurance about us and that we'll always be together. It might just be because I'm sure he's gained and lost a lot of friends having worked in this industry and seen people's true colors as they started to grow in popularity.

It's probably hard for him to know who he can and cannot really trust outside of his members.

"Hey what's with that look Jungkook come on sit down there's no need to be so serious" Namjoon says and Hoseok joins in making Jungkook feel a bit more at ease. "Can we sit together?" Jungkook whispers and I nod before getting up and he sits down where I had just been and pulls me down onto his lap.

This isn't an unusual thing between us but from the looks of the six pairs of eyes staring back at us you would think we had done something scandalous.

"Is everything alright guys?" I ask, watching as they collectively start looking back and forth between us before Yoongi chimes in. "Calm down guys they said they're just friends" he says and so eventually the weirdness that had settled in goes away and we continue on throughout the night laughing and talking into the wee hours in the morning.

~~~~

"Is it really already two?" Jimin says and at that I jump. "Wait are you serious? My mom is probably freaking out thinking I got caught out in the storm. I need to get going" I say trying to stand up but I'm stopped with a strong arm around my waist, keeping me in place.

"You mom called my mom a couple of hours ago to make sure you were okay and she told her that you would probably just be staying over tonight because of the storm" he whispers and I shudder at the thought.

Jungkook and I haven't spent the night together since he left for Seoul so the thought of doing it now when I'm sitting on his lap and with his hand dangerously close to crawling under my shirt has me feeling breathless. "Oh okay, but where am I gonna sleep?" I ask and he smiles at that.

"You'll sleep with me in my room, you know, for old times sake" he offers with a shy smile and I nod, nervous but not nervous enough to turn him down. It's Jungkook after all. We're best friends right? Just friends...

~~~~~

"Goodnight guys!" I say after the eight of us have talked for another hour or so, Jungkook following close behind as we make our way upstairs. "Text me if you guys need anything but try not to need me" Jungkook says and I see all of the guys give him a knowing smile besides Jin who has been scandalized by the thought of anything happening but it wasn't something that I had caught onto just yet.

"Behave" is all he says and Jungkook rolls his eyes at him before he rushes me upstairs with Jin scolding him all the way but he's quickly silenced by Yoongi, reminding him that Jungkook's parents are asleep.

"They seem really nice" I say once we've gotten into Jungkook's room. "Yeah they're alright" he says, walking over to his closet and throwing me a tee shirt and a pair of sweats, grabbing the same for himself.

"I'm gonna go use the bathroom unless you want to first?" he asks and I shake my head allowing him to do as he says with him closing the door behind him, leaving me alone in his childhood bedroom just like I had been in mine.

It's been ages since I've been in here, let alone slept in here and I feel as though everything has almost been frozen in time. His mirroring mine with all the pictures his mom and dad had taken of us over the years and even a few of his old drawings he had pinned up on the wall.

I start to get undressed and put on the sweats first and when I'm slipping his shirt over my head his door opens and quickly put it on the rest of the way and hear him start apologizing. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry I forgot to knock" he says quickly and when I turn around he has both of his hands over his eyes.

"It's alright no big deal" I laugh and he shift from one foot to the other nervously. "Can I open my eyes now?" he asks and I laugh at his almost innocent nature. "Yes you can open your eyes" I say and pinch his side making him flinch. "Hey!" he says and I shush him immediately reminding him of all the sleeping people on the level bellow us.

"No one can hear us from up here you know that" he laughs, reminding me that his parents bedroom as well as everyone else is downstair on the opposite side of the house. The only things upstairs being his older brother's old room and his father's office.

"We should still be quiet" I scold playfully and he takes that as a challenge. "Oh yeah?" he says taking a step towards me and making me take a step back. "Yeah" I say, less confident in my wording than before leaving him lunging at me and tickling me mercilessly to the point where I can't even breathe anymore.

"J-jungkook stop!" I say between painful laugher and he only stops when I start hitting him. "Okay okay. Truce?" he asks, pulling back and holding out his hand to shake. "Truce" I echo, shaking his hand to seal the deal.

We stand there for a second with our hands still connected and swaying them back and forth, neither of us really knowing where to go from here. "We should probably get some sleep" I offer and he nods his head and leads me over to his bed letting me climb in first and him following soon after since his bed and placed against the wall.

"You need anything else? Another pillow? Maybe another blanket?" he asks after we've both settled in. "With the human heater you are? No I'll be fine" I say and he pushes my shoulder a bit me having faced away from him.

I turn around and realize that that might've been my first mistake of many to come.

"Tell me about the comeback you're working on. Have they been nice to you?" he asks, laying on his side facing me, suddenly becoming a bit serious. "Oh, um yeah everyone is really nice and the boys although energetic and goofy have been very professional about it all" I say in reference to the Enhypen comeback I'm working on.

"What's the name of their title track again?" he asks, settling in a bit and moving just a little bit closer, hardly noticeable unless you were fixated on it like I am right now. "Bite Me. You know because their whole back story for the group is Vampires" I say, laughing it off since it could be interpreted in many different ways.

He hums in acknowledgement lost in thought as he glances down at my lips for a second that I nervously bite in response. "It's a partnered dance right? I've heard about it in passing" he asks and I nod my head, "Who are you paired up with?" he asks, tonging his cheek at the thought of it.

"Sunghoon. He's been very quiet and very respectful. If anything I wish he would talk to me a little bit more so we could feel a bit more comfortable with each other but I'm sure we'll get there" I laugh, remembering how he barely spoke to me when we initially got paired up.

"Does he call you Noona?" he asks and I swallow at the thought of him being jealous because if there's one thing I know about Jungkook is that he get's extremely jealous.

"Um, yeah, they all do. You know I don't like keeping that overly formal relationship with anyone so it's been helpful breaking down those walls and a way of treating them as regular guys instead of idols. I think they get enough treatment like that you know?" I ask and he hums in response, not having much more to ask for a few beats.

"How close do you guys get? Like does he put his hands on you?" he asks, clenching his jaw a bit and that's a dead ringer for his jealously growing. "Jungkook this is a part of my job. He doesn't do more than he's supposed to and same with me" I say and I can see how his mood starts to change a bit.

"Hey, what's got you all upset about this?" I ask, not wanting to beat around the bush. I know better and it's best to just confront these things head on. "I just don't like the thought of other guys touching you. I know, I know it's stupid and it shouldn't upset me but it does" he says, flopping down on his back and throwing his arm over his face.

I sit up and turn towards him, pulling his arm off and making him look at me. "Why does it bother you?" I ask, genuinely curious as to why something like this would make him upset.

"Do I really need to spell it out to you?" he says furrowing his brow as if I've done something wrong. "Well obviously you do because I don't understand why you would care about thi-" I start but he cuts me off by pulling my arm and making me fall onto his chest.

"Jungkook I-" "No, don't say anything. Push me away if you don't want this but please don't overthink it" he says, flicking his eyes between my eyes and lips, looking more vulnerable than he ever has.

I hold my breath, taking in what is happening between us and there's nothing inside of me that doesn't want this and he knows that.

We stay there for another second or two until he puts his hand on my neck keeping me in place. "Last chance" he whispers, his breath fanning against my lips and before I can even second guess myself I'm pressing my lips against his.

He keeps one hand on my neck and the other one has found it's way to my hip, trailing up and down my side and eventually grabbing onto my thigh to guide me to straddle him, making the kiss more intense and full of longing.

"We shouldn't be doing this" I say when I break the kiss for a second but he pulls me back in kissing me again in protest. "Shut up" he whispers as a way to remind me to not overthink it.

I run one of my hands through his hair and grip onto the strands wanting to keep him here and never let him go and that sparks a new intensity to the kiss him now flipping us over so I'm now on my back.

I giggle against his lips and he smiles against mine kissing me more and more into a daze, drunk on his lips and the way he's touching me.

His hands become a bit more bold as one stays on my jaw while the other trails up my shirt, keeping a strong hand against my hip squeezing it as a way to tell me he wants more, wants everything I'll give him.

He switched from keeping his hips hovering above me to pressing against mine, chancing a soft grind against them making me whine at the contact making him do it again earning more soft sounds from me.

Soon he grinding into me, his hard on having been brushing against my clit, the friction driving me mad making me breathe out his name when his lips start to trail down my jaw and along my neck, kissing and sucking and biting his way down while his hips never falter.

"Tell me to stop" he says, pulling away and looking down on me, making me furrow my brows in confusion. "Tell me to stop and I will but if I keep going I don't think I'll be able to stop" he says, his lips wet and swollen, his hair a mess and I would be out of my mind if I pushed him away now.

"Don't stop" I say, placing my hand on his neck and guiding him back down to my lips, needing him like I need air and he growls against my lips, his excitement growing ask he slips his hands further up my shirt, now resting on my ribs, so close yet so far from touching me where I want him to.

I whine and he chuckles against my lips before asking me if he can take my shirt off which I answer by sitting up and pulling it off myself leaving him to do the same. My eyes widen seeing his sculpted muscles being a lot more defined than I thought they would be and he smirks once he sees my reaction.

"Like what you see?" he asks and I hit his chest before pulling him back down. "Just shut up and kiss me" I scold and he does just that.

His hands roam the bare skin I've revealed to him and he starts to trail his lips down my neck and onto my chest where he suck marks on it until he's stopped by my bra. He bites it and tugs on a little to gauge my reaction and I arch my back as a wordless plea to take it off which he does immediately.

He curses at the sight of them before looking back up at me. "You're so pretty" he says before pressing his lips up against mine again. his hands finding their way to my breasts first, squeezing them and toying with my nipples granting him more whines when he squeezes a bit too hard.

"You're so good to me" he says trailing his lips down my chest again sucking marks into me as if he way trying to paint me as his own, leaving me with the proof of what we had done together.

When he wraps his lips around my nipple I know that I'm a goner, my whole body on fire and all my senses trained on him.

Watching as his brows furrow in concentration, hearing as he groans against them, giving both of them the same attention making me lose my mind. Still tasting him on my tongue, smelling the minty flavor as he licked it into my mouth. Feeling his hands traveling lower, toying with the drawstring I have tied tight around my waist.

He lets go of my nipple leaving it puffy wet, hardening even more from the cold air reaching it after having been left the warmth of his mouth. "Can I take them off?" he asks and I nod my head but he shakes his. "Use your words" he says, tugging on the string but not enough to untie it.

"Yes Jungkook please" I choke out, my rational brain having been lost a long time ago. "Can I take it all off?" he says toying with the waistband of my under ware as well. "Yes" I say and he smile from not having to prompt me again.

He looks at me for another second and then he busies himself with taking off the last bits of clothing that was hiding me from him.

Once he pulls it all off he curses from being met with my glistening folds and trails his hands up my thighs and looks up at me wordlessly asking for permission. "Touch me Jungkook please, do something" I groan, getting restless with the pace he's going at.

"Patience princess" he taunts and I hold my breath after hearing that pet name roll off his tongue like that. "You gonna be quiet for me?" he asks, trailing his nose against my inner thigh. "I thought you said n-no one could hear us up here" I choke out and he chuckles dryly, surprised I've still got enough of a clear mind to talk back.

"That's true but it depends on where you are in the house. In a perfect world they would all be sound asleep but if someone was to be roaming around, well let's just say it's best if you stay as quiet as you can" he says, blowing cold air onto my center leaving me flinching at the feeling.

"Me? What about y-you?" I stutter and he tilts his head at me. "We both know who the loud one is gonna be" he says now cocking a brow at me, daring me to argue otherwise which I don't leaving him turning his attention back to what he was about to do.

He looks between my folds for a second almost studying it and I groan a bit, embarrassed at the sight but he simply kisses my inner thigh in response. "Everything about you is so pretty even your pretty little pussy. Even better than I thought it would be" he says and before I'm able to react to that he's already put his mouth on me.

Tracing his tongue up and down my folds and sucking on my clit, taking his time and being gentle with me, learning what brings me the most pleasure from the sounds I'm making and the way my thighs start shaking.

"You're so perfect. So pretty and vocal for me" he growls and I moan a his words of praise. He continues his ministrations until my back is arching off the bed and I'm so close to cumming stopping only to praise me again tipping me over.

"There you go, so so good for me" he says, pumping his fingers inside me to fuck me through my high, only stopping when it gets to be too much. "You did so well. So quiet for me, making sure only I could hear you. Making all kinds of soft sounds for me" he praises before kissing me, making me taste myself on his tongue, moaning into his mouth and never wanting to come back to reality.

"You think you can give me another one?" he asks, squeezing my hip and dragging his eyes down my body again. "Yeah" I whisper, watching as his hunger grows. "You gonna let me fuck this pretty little pussy? Been dying to for so long" he says making my eyes widen, realizing that what I heard before wasn't something I made up.

"You've been what?" I ask, getting breathless at the thought of him wanting me like this. "Haven't you figured it out yet? It's been so hard for me to stay away from you. I just didn't realize I had been doing that good of a job" he says and I get even more confused.

"Jungkook what are you trying to say?" I ask, wanting to get a straight answer out of him. "You're really gonna make me say it...Alright" he mutters to himself and I can see how embarrassed he's gotten all of a sudden.

"I know this has kind of been done backwards but I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember and I know love is a strong word and I know now isn't the best time to say something like this but I-" he rambles but I pull him down into a kiss that shows him that I've felt the same way. I've just been too scared to admit it.

"Just fuck me and we'll talk about this later" I say against his lips, breathless from how long that kiss had gone on. "Someone's eager" he teases and I glare at him telling him to get on with it or stop. "Okay okay" he laughs and strips down and lays between my legs.

My eyes widen at the sheer size of him, he's not too big but definitely bigger than I would've thought based on how tight his jeans have been throughout the years. "It's okay I'll make sure it won't hurt" he says nudging his nose against mine.

"Do you trust me?" he asks and I answer 'yes' without any hesitation. "Tap me twice if it gets to be too much" he says and I nod before he's planting his lips against mine while he rubs the tip up and down my folds making me mewl and pull him closer.

He pushes the tip in and it's already got me close to cumming. After everything that's happened today I never thought we would've ended up here. He presses in further and I let out a high pitched whimper and he stops, breaking the kiss.

"Are you okay?" he asks, looking down on me, mesmerized by the sight of my flushed cheeks and dilated pupils with the fucked out expression I'm already giving him. "Yes keep going" I pant out and pull him back down into a kiss, trying to muffle my gasps and moans against his lips.

Once he's bottomed out he stops, enjoying to warmth of my walls and grunting when he feels how hard I'm clenching around him. "Fuck, are you alright?" he asks, turning his full attention to me, pushing away his urges and making sure that I'm feeling good too.

"So big, I'm sorry just gimme a sec" I pant and he chuckles, placing a soft pecks on my lips. "We'll take it slow" he says and after a couple more seconds I tell him to move. He slowly pulls out of me the slightest bit and pushes back in, inching further and further out making his thrusts go deeper every time.

"Fuck you're so tight" he grunts, biting my shoulder as a way to drown out some of his sounds of pleasure. He's finally able to pull almost all the way out, leaving just the tip in and he looks down at where we're connected and curses under his breath before he thrusts back inside of me, bottoming out and knocking the air out of my lungs.

He settles into a faster pace than before, growling in my ear how good I'm making him feel. "Fuck I've been dying to do this for so long. You drive me fucking insane, making me feel so fucking good. You're so perfect for me" he says, praising me and driving me utterly speechless, not being able to think straight and the only word that falls from my lips over and over are his name muttered amongst other incoherent noises that only encourage him to keep going.

My walls flutter around him and start getting tighter, a clear sign to him that I'm close and he coaches me through it. "I know, I know" he mutters, his forehead resting up against mine as our breath intermingles, getting closer and closer to that high.

"I can't I can't" I cry out, squeezing around him and making him curse, a few tears streaming down my face "It's okay, you can cum" he says and at that I tip over the edge losing myself and forgetting to be quiet, making him throw a hand over my mouth to muffle my cries.

"S-so close princess" he stutters out and I nod, letting him fuck me through my high and he's cumming soon after, smashing his lips on mine, not trusting himself to muffle his own cries.

He continues doing shallow thrusts into me until he's spent, both of us panting and overstimulated and he pulls out of me making both of us hiss at the feeling before he plops down on his back beside me.

We lay there for a second, catching our breaths and when I glance over at him I realize that he's already been looking at me and without saying a word we both bust out laughing.

"Did that really just happen?" I question, flipping over on my side to face him. "Yeah, um I guess it did" he chuckles nervously, running his fingers through his hair. "What's wrong?" I ask, scared that he might've regretted it. "No nothing's wrong! You're perfect, this was perfect I just feel bad about doing this all wrong" he says, overthinking things just like he told me not to.

"Hey, this is us we're talking about. Nothing ever ends up going the way it's supposed to. I don't regret doing it this way. Do you?" I ask, hoping his answer will be no. "I don't regret it I just wish I could've confessed to you properly. You know, asking you out on a date and all of that stuff" he says, more shy than anything.

"Jungkook we've known each other for twenty years. I think we're past doing things properly. Plus for what it's worth" I pause and whisper in his ear, "I'm in love with you too" I say and the next second I'm back on my back with him on top of me again.

"You're just dying to get fucked again aren't you?" he growls, against my lips making me laugh at his change in demeanor. One second he's a shy insecure Koo and the next he's Jeon Jungkook ready to fuck my brains out. I wouldn't want it any other way though.

"Maybe" I tease and and he trails a hand up and down my inner thigh. "What do you mean maybe? Hmm?" he says trailing kisses down my neck this time leaving big smooches making so much noise with each kiss leaving me writhing around, laughing and trying to push him off from how ticklish it is.

After we've both calmed down he gazes down at me, taking in all my features before gliding his eye down my torso to where we're pressed against each other.

"You ready?" he asks, trailing his finger up and down my slit making me shiver at the process. "Still so wet for me" he groans, kissing me and playing with my clit making me squirm. "Please" I breathe out and he lines back up before looking up at me. I nod my head and he looks back down, pushing just the tip in and noticing how I tense up.

"Still sensitive?" he asks, running a hand up and down my side, giving me kisses trying to make me feel more comfortable. "A little. Just go slow" I say and he nods, pushing into me inch by inch taking care to read my reactions and slow down when my breathing picks up until he's bottomed out.

He kisses me on the forehead and rasps a chant of praises in my ear. "So good for me. You're doing so well. You feel so good. You were made for me" amongst other things that give me a fluttery feeling in my stomach and making me let out breathy moans in response.

"Can I move?" he asks and I take a deep breath before nodding and he takes my words from before so seriously. Rocking his hips back and forth so carefully and making my mind melt, feeling every inch and whining when he hits that spot.

"Right there?" he asks, hitting it again and he takes my gasp for breath as a response, getting high from how good I feel wrapped around him and all the reactions I couldn't hold back even if I tried. This pace feeling more intense, more intimate.

As we reach our highs, one soon after the other I find myself slowly losing consciousness and he kisses me until I fade away, loving how slow and lazy they get as the minutes pass by.

He pulls out of me once I've slowly drifted off leaving me mewling in my sleep making him lose his mind and wanting to go again but he holds himself back and chooses to laugh at how adorable he find me. Lazy and fucked out with a small pout on my lips making him somehow fall even more in love with me.

He knows I should pee but he'll let me rest for a bit, going to the bathroom to clean himself up before coming back to watch me sleep before ultimately cleaning me up, knowing that I'll hate the feeling of waking up messy more than waking up to him taking care of me.

I whine in my sleep when he dabs the warm towel around and on my center, apologizing and doing his best to hurry up but still making sure to be gentle with me. Once he's almost finished is when I finally come to and start to open my sleep ridden eyes.

"I'm sorry I had to wake you but you should really go pee before we go to bed" he says and I hum in agreement, taking a second to wake up before reaching out my hand, a nonverbal plea for him to help me up which he does so graciously.

Luckily he has an ensuite and so I don't have to worry about covering up but I still end up grabbing his shirt and slipping it on before having him help me to the bathroom, legs still feeling wobbly as a result of what he did to me.

He laughs at my efforts and decides to scoop me up instead, plopping me down on my feet and leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him to thankfully grant me some privacy, we're close but not I'll go to the bathroom in front of you close.

I sit down and take a second to clear my head, trying to process everything that just happened.

I just slept with my best friend who has been in love with me for years and I finally admitted to the both of us that I have been too and now...well now what? I take a deep breath and finish up, standing up and flushing to toilet before going to wash my hands, gasping at the sight of my mascara running down my face, it's not a lot but still.

"Why didn't you tell me I looked like this?" I whine, catching him in the middle of changing the sheets. "What's the problem? You look hot" he says nonchalantly. "More like a hot mess" I groan, helping him finish up making the bed.

"The fact that I made sure you look freshly fucked is hot" he says, coming up to me and grabbing me by my hips, pulling me into him and planting a smooch on my pouty lips that I eventually relax and deepen the kiss into a slow sensual one.

"No, not again" I say breaking the kiss and stepping back. "How did you know I was gonna-" "We might not have done this before but that doesn't mean I don't know what you're up to" I say, turning away from him and going back to the bathroom, making sure to sway my hips a little bit to taunt him.

"Keep acting like that and you won't be leaving this room anytime soon" he growls as I slowly close the door leaving it open just enough for me to stick my head out. "Is that a threat?" I ask playfully, loving the reactions I'm getting out of him. "That's a promise princess" he rasps leaving me widening my eyes before closing the door quickly and quietly behind me, still close enough to hear his dry laugh in amusement.

After washing my face and using a new toothbrush I found in his drawer I climb back into bed and he pulls me into him immediately, leaning over me and placing his phone on his bedside table and notice there's somewhat of an unreadable expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" I ask, leaning back to look at him, worried that something might've happened. "Nothings wrong I just think you're gonna get mad at me if I tell you" he says, laying back down and pulling me closer, making it harder for me to look at him but I pull back again.

"Why would I get mad at you?" I ask, now even more suspicious. "A few of the guys heard us" he mumbles and I jump up almost falling out of the bed in the process. "What do you mean a few?" I ask, horrified at the thought. "All of them..." he say, wincing at the thought of my next reaction.

"All of them?!?!? Jungkook you said no one could hear us up hear!" I whisper scream, blushing at the fact that we got found out so easily. "Well everyone but Yoongi. He was the first one to knock out but I'm sure the guys will end up telling him" he relays, mumbling the last part.

"Jungkook" I scold, hitting his chest a few times. "Hey we're adults and we didn't do anything wrong. It's their fault for being perverts" he says, rolling his eyes at the thought.

"What did they hear..." I ask just above a whisper as if the walls had ears. "Nothing too crazy just the bed creaking a bit and some muffled voices" he says and at the I craw under the covers, trying my best to disappear.

"Hey what's the matter" he chuckles trying to pull the blanket off of me but I keep a strong grip on it. "Just leave me here to die" I groan and he laughs again. "Come on it's not that serious" he says, trying to pull them off, this time succeeding.

"Nothing serious? You just told me that your bandmates, that mind you I just met tonight-" "Well technically it was yesterday..." he cuts me off. "Not the point! You're telling me they not only heard us having sex but it was after the both of us swore up and down we were just friends? Jungkook I'm never gonna be able to face them" I say, grabbing a pillow and laying down on my back, burring my face in it.

"Just do it, put me out of my misery" I plead, my voice muffled while I ask him to smother me which he does so for about ten seconds before letting up after I start making noise. "You were really about to kill me weren't you?" I say, sitting back up and hitting him with the pillow before he grabs it and throws it on the other side of the bed and out of reach.

"No...but I do like the idea of breath play" he grins and I tackle him, making him fall on his back and trapping his wrists against the mattress. "This isn't funny Jeon this is serious" I scold and he laughs, enjoying how completely and utterly mortified I am.

"How did they even find out?" I groan, rubbing my temples and sitting back, still straddling his waist. "Taehyung was looking for a bathroom and woke Jimin up to help him find it and when they heard us Jimin woke Hobi up who tried to wake Yoongi up but he just groaned out a cruse leaving Hobi waking Namjoon up who hesitated, but still ended up waking Jin up" he lists off making me cringe more and more as the list goes on.

"That's it, I'm staning Seventeen. My bias is Mingyu and my bias wrecker is Hoshi. Here's my Army card and my light stick" I say, holding out two empty hands and he swats them away, refusing the offer

"Hey! Why out of the thirteen of them does my best friend need to be your bias? Am I not enough?" he pouts. "You're enough but that doesn't mean I can't pick a bias. It's not my fault all your friends are hot" as soon as the words leave my mouth he flips me on my back, glaring at me with a jealousy I've never seen from him.

"Come again?" he growls. "No that's alright, three's good enough for me" I say, teasing him and using an alternate meaning instead. "Ha Ha you're soooo funny" he says with a fake laugh, rolling his eyes at me.

He gets off and leans up against the headboard, letting out a huge sigh and running his fingers through his hair. "Hey you know I'm just teasing you. You're the only idol, no, the only man I need in my life alright" I say, pulling his face back towards me and kissing him, soft and sweet and he tries to deepen it again but I pull away leaving him groaning at the denial yet again.

"Nope bed" I say, tapping him twice on the chest and turning around, giving him my back. "Come on please" he whines, cuddling up close and rubbing his already semi hard against me. "I'm tired Jungkook" I say, pushing his hips off of me and he pouts burying his face into my neck.

"Can I put it in? I won't do anything" he says against my skin, placing a couple kisses here and there leaving me hardly any sanity to say no. "You're into cock warming huh?" I chuckle and he hum in acknowledgment.

"Come on please" he asks, rubbing it against my ass again until I finally lose the mental battle I'm having. "Fine but I wanna sleep Jeon so no funny business" I say and he quickly takes off the boxers he had thrown on and lifts up the shirt I'm wearing and eases it inside of me, nothing stopping him since I have nothing on underneath.

I whine a bit at the stretch, this being a different angle than before and he kisses my neck to distract from the pain. Once he's settles in he takes the strong hand he had gripping my hip and slides it up my waist, grabbing one of my boobs and sigh, comfortable and ready to pass out.

"Who said you could touch me like that too?" I ask and he shushes me and goes quiet, quickly drifting off to sleep. 'This man is unbelievable' I think to myself and try to ease my mind, breathing and trying to distract myself from the fact that I have Jungkook's dick inside of me while he's happily asleep behind me with his big tattooed hand around my breast, occasionally squeezing it in his sleep.

After coaching myself through it and mentally blocking it all out I eventually drift off to get some well earned rest...

~~~~

"Jungkook, y/n breakfast!" is the next thing I hear, Mrs. Jeon calling us to come down and it takes everything in me to not ignore it and fall back asleep. "Jungkook" I say sleepily, still in a fucked out daze with my senses coming back to me one by one and remembering that I still have his dick buried deep inside me.

"Jungkook your mom made us breakfast" I mumble out and all I'm left with are his soft snores and his hand squeezing my breast, still very much asleep. I take a deep breath and try to figure out my options here and decide to give him a not so rude awakening, fucking myself back against him leaving him stirring awake, letting out breathy moans still not fully conscious of what's going on.

Once he starts to come to he slides his hand down to my hip, mumbling my name sleepily against my skin. "You're not playing fair" he says, moaning into my ear and only making me need him even more. "They called for us to come down for breakfast" and at that she echoes what she said before leaving Jungkook groaning, hating the thought of stopping.

"Be there in a minute" he yells, trying to keep his voice level. "That hurt" I complain, scolding him for yelling in my ear. "You'll get over it" he says and bites down on my neck before gripping my hip again. He takes over, thrusting harder into me leaving me covering my mouth, staying quiet as a mouse knowing that for sure anyone could hear us.

After both of us have come down from our high Jungkook give my shoulder as kiss and slips out, both of hating the loss of contact but knowing we need to stop. He gets up and brings me a warm damp towel and cleans me up before throwing me some new clothes to change into.

"Can I borrow a hoodie too?" I ask and he turns around, placing it on the bed next to me. We take turns going into the bathroom and straightening ourselves up and I shrug the hoodie on at the end, throwing the hood up, pulling the drawstrings and tying them tight leaving him laughing at the sight.

"What?" I ask, glaring at him. "You look ridiculous" he snorts and I roll my eyes leaving the bathroom and going back into his room, "I'd rather look ridiculous than show everyone downstairs what you did to me" I say, plopping down on his bed and waiting for him to put a shirt on although I would very much prefer he didn't.

"It's fine don't worry about it. All the guys already know" he says, throwing on a hoodie on as well after noticing how cold it is. "Yeah but what about your parents! There's no way in hell I'm letting them see this" I say, crossing my arms over my chest and mentally praying that I'll sink into the floor to avoid this interaction all together.

"They already know that I've liked you for the longest time so it was only a matter of time until this happened" and my jaw drops at the thought. "Your mom knew too? How many people knew before me" I ask, scared of what the answer might be. "Pretty much everyone that I'm close to. Even your parents knew" he says giving me a crooked smile.

"My parents knew?!?!" I gasp in total disbelief that this is happening. "It's not my fault you're oblivious" he say and I wack him in the arm leaving him laughing at, from his perspective my continued adorable reactions.

"Let's just go downstairs and have breakfast alright. I promise you everyone knew this was gonna happen and they all have been very supportive of it for the longest time" he says, guiding me up and out of his room. "You know this isn't making me feel any better right?" I pout and his only response is placing a kiss on my lips before running downstairs leaving me behind.

I take a deep breath and follow slowly behind him into the most embarrassing breakfast I'm sure I'll ever have.

"Good morning sleepy heads" Mrs. Jeon greets us as she places a bowl of strawberries on the table along with the other incredible looking food already set out for us. "Good morning" I say and plop down on the seat next to Jimin and across from Jungkook.

"Did you guys sleep alright" he asks with a knowing smile leaving me sinking further down on the seat and covering my face. "I don't wanna talk about it" I mumble and he laughs but leaves it at that. It doesn't stop the amused glances from the rest of the group and the not so subtle teasing along with it though.

"You alright there y/n you look kinda cold" Tae says as I take a drink of water making me choke, Jimin tapping on my back as I cough through it and try to catch my breath. "Yeah just a little" I say and glance over at Jungkook who is clearly loving this.

He winks at me before reaching for my plate and adding some food to it, knowing what I like and don't like and putting the perfect amount.

You know, I really am oblivious now that I think about it. He's always done stuff like this and has always taken care of me and wants to make sure I'm okay. I guess I always just chalked it up to friendship but again, I'm clearly just oblivious.

~~~~~

As the breakfast continues it goes from harmless teasing to comfortable conversation and soon we're all getting ready to head off.

Once Jungkook and I are back upstairs I go into his room with the intention of gathering up my stuff but he has other ideas and presses me against the door, kissing me breathless.

"Jungkook we need to get going" I groan and he kisses me once more before backing away. "Okay I just can't help it" he says, sad as if he had gotten his gameboy taken away. "I'm sure you'll live" I laugh and he rolls his eyes before getting a bag for me to put my stuff in and making sure I find everything.

"Here" he says, throwing me my bra he found that had some how ended up the opposite side of the room. "Hey!" I yell and he giggles at my reaction before running out and heading downstairs.

"Is y/n ready?" Jin asks as he looks back up towards the way that Jungkook had just came from. "Yeah she'll be out in a second" he says and Jin nods before smacking him upside the head.

"Hey! What was that for?" he yells, making all the guys laugh at the interaction. "I told you to behave yet you did the exact opposite" he scolds, reminding him of the warning he gave us before we went upstairs.

"Yeah well it kinda just...happened" he says shyly. "Uh huh" Jin says, rolling his eyes at him and walking out the door with a few other members. "I just hope you were careful" Hobi says putting a hand on my shoulder. "Hyung" he whines, dragging the word out leaving Hobi giggling on his way out to the car.

"You gonna be ready to head out?" Namjoon asks when the others have already placed all of their stuff in the trunk. "Yeah but I'm gonna head back with y/n. I'll have a staff member pick me up from her place later" he says and Namjoon gives him a suspicious look before nodding and heading out as well.

When Namjoon is just walking out is when I just start coming downstairs. "Oh are you guys all heading out?" I question surprised to see them go so soon. "They're gonna get going but I'm gonna drive back with you. Well as long as that's okay with you?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck again, I swear that's my favorite thing he does.

"Sure, you can drive back with me" I say giving him a soft smile making him light up. "Awesome! Lemme just go say goodbye to mom" he says hurriedly and rushes to go find them with me following slowly behind.

"You guys taking off too?" she asks, giving me a hug after letting go of Jungkook. "Yeah I've got a lot of work to do and need to rehearse before I meet up with the artists again this week" I say, pulling back and giving her a soft smile. "Well don't work too hard and make sure to keep an eye on him. And for heavens sake Jungkook ask her on a date already" she teases, whacking Jungkook on the arm.

"Mom" Jungkook whines and I smile at the interaction. "Don't worry I'll keep him in check" I say and she chuckles while Jungkook glares at me.

"Where's Mr. Jeon?" I question not seeing him anywhere. "Oh he had some errands to run but I'll let him know that you said goodbye" she says, placing a soft hand on my arm. "Yes please give him my best and thank you so much for everything! Hopefully we'll see each other again soon" I say and she nods and starts to walk us out.

"I'm sure we will, you've gotta make sure to drag him along with you" she says, whacking him on the arm again leaving him rubbing the area, no doubt a bit sensitive from being thoroughly abused this morning. "I will" I say and we finish up our goodbyes at Jungkook's house and are soon finishing up at my parent's house as well.

"Ask her out on a date already Jungkook I want some grandkids" my mom not so subtly whispers. "Mom!" I whine, surprised that she would be so bold to say something like that. "Honey you're not slick I promise. I could only imagine the damage that hoodie is hiding under there" she says with a wink. "MOM!" I yell and Jungkook giggles, oh how the turntables have turntabled.

"Don't worry I've got it all under control" Jungkook says, giving my mom a hug and she's quickly shooing us out, reminding us to drive safe. "Hey toss me the keys" Jungkook says leaving my brows furrowed together but doing so all the same.

"You wanna drive?" I question and he nods his head happily. "Yeah I don't get to do it often so I like to do it when I can" he explains, sinking down into the driver's seat. "You know that really makes me regret my decision" I say worriedly, doing just the same. "Oh come on I'm a great driver" he says, and I cock a brow at him. "Uh huh" I say, emphasizing each syllable and he rolls his eyes at me, starting the car and backing out of the driveway after we've both put our seatbelts on.

We wave goodbye to my mom one last time and then we're on our way back to Seoul.

"You know you better not make me regret this" I warn after we've been driving for a while making him look over at me. "Regret what?" he asks, turning down the music that we've been listening to. "Letting you take my virginity" I say and he swerves slightly. "Hey be careful!" I scold and quickly regains control of himself again.

"You what? You mean to tell me that a fine ass, driven, mature and independent woman like you was a virgin?" he says, shocked at the thought. "Well it's the fact that I'm so driven and independent that that anything like that was put on the back burner. Plus how am I gonna find a regular guy attractive when I'm surrounded by idols all day?" I say and he sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Don't get jealous" I taunt. "I'm not jealous!" he refutes. "Oh so you wouldn't care if Taehyung gave me his number?" "He did what?!?!" he says, swerving again when he goes to look at me. "If you're gonna keep doing this when I say the slightest thing then I'm gonna need you to pull over so I can drive" I say while holding onto the handle above the door.

"It's fine, I'm fine" he says and takes a deep breath, continuing on our drive and the car goes silent for a while.

"Did he really give you his number?" he mumbles, clearly still jealous. "No, but Hobi added me to the group chat" and he groans at the thought of it. "Great! Now I'm gonna have to pay more attention to what's going on in there" he whines and we continue on our journey laughing and teasing and singing and making fools out of ourselves the whole time.

I guess some people really are meant to be together. Who knew that that quiet little kid drawing with sidewalk chalk on the playground would be the answer to my forever...

The End... (lemme know if you guys want an epilogue hehe)

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @kaitieskidmore97 @goddesofimortality @coolbluedude @00frenchfries00 @bangtans-momma @coralmusicblaze @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater @marvelbun @j3nni-rs @evidive @beomieboi @forevrglow @jesssssmaybankk @teugiie @chaconnelatte @whoa-jo @snehal @xumyboo @mindurbuzznezz @diorh0seokie

Join my Taglist!

Feel free to fill out the form or just comment on any of my fics to be added :)

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #fanfic #fanfiction #kpop #bts #kpop fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x original character #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #jungkook and reader #jungkook and you #shut up and kiss me #idol au

2K notes · View notes

st4rtar0t · 4 months ago

Text

How will your future spouse describe you to their family and friends?

Masterlist ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡ paid services

These pictures belong to me and so does the content of this post. Any kind of plagiarism will not be tolerated.

If you would like to order the necklaces from the picture you can DM me.

📍 Delivery all over India

DIWALI SALE

Picture 1

(you might be attracted to pile 2)

Your future spouse will speak of you with a deep sense of admiration and respect. They will describe you as someone who is dedicated, hardworking, and constantly striving to grow and improve. To them, you are a person who puts their heart into everything they do, whether it’s your work, your passions, or your relationships. They will be proud of your determination, and they’ll often speak of how much they admire your focus and drive. They will also say that you have a sharp mind, someone who is quick, intelligent, and unafraid to speak up. You are not one to hold back when it comes to what you believe in, and you have a curious spirit that is always eager to learn and understand more about the world. Your future spouse will see you as someone who inspires others with your energy and clear sense of purpose. Yet, they will also acknowledge the times when you have faced struggles and hardships. They see the strength it has taken for you to rise above your challenges, and they admire your resilience. To them, you are not defined by your wounds, but by the way you have learned from them and grown stronger. Your journey, with all its ups and downs, is something they deeply respect, and they’ll often talk about how proud they are of your ability to endure and keep moving forward. At the same time, there is a softness about you that they will cherish. They will describe you as someone with a warm, nurturing heart, full of compassion and empathy. You have the ability to make others feel safe and understood, and this gentle side of you will be something they speak of with great fondness. To them, your kindness and emotional depth are rare gifts, and they will often share how much they treasure the love and care you show, not just to them, but to everyone around you. Most importantly, they will see you as a light in their life. You bring joy, warmth, and positivity, even on the darkest days. They will describe you as a person who has a way of making everything brighter, who reminds them of the beauty and goodness in the world. To their friends and family, they will say that you are their source of happiness, a beacon of hope, and a reason to smile. In their eyes, you are both strong and gentle, wise and playful, someone who makes the world a better place just by being in it.

Picture 2

(You might also want to read pile 1)

Both pile 1 and 2 have similar energy

Your future spouse would describe you as someone who carries a sense of completeness and grace, as if you bring everything full circle. To them, you are a guiding light, shining brightly even in the darkest moments, offering hope and a vision of what’s possible. They see you as someone who has a rare kind of strength, a quiet resilience that inspires not just them but everyone around you. In their eyes, you are honest, clear, and sharp-minded. They would tell others that you have a way of seeing through confusion, cutting through doubt, and speaking truthfully, even when the truth is hard to face. There is a wisdom about you that they deeply admire, a sense of purpose and understanding that sets you apart. You aren’t afraid to stand by your beliefs, and that consistency brings a sense of calm and stability to their life. They see the depth of your heart, knowing that you carry your own struggles and pain, yet you still manage to move forward with grace. They would share how you’ve faced difficult moments, yet instead of letting them break you, you’ve allowed them to shape you into someone even stronger. To them, this makes you both beautiful and deeply human, someone who knows the weight of sorrow but still chooses to hope and love. Your future spouse would speak of you as a person who brings balance and meaning to their life. You make them see things in a clearer light, helping them understand themselves and the world around them in a way they never did before. You have a kind of gentle wisdom, mixed with an unyielding strength, that they feel honored to have by their side. In their words, you are not just a partner but a presence that brings hope, truth, and a sense of purpose. They would share that knowing you has been a journey, one that has taught them more about love, resilience, and the quiet power of enduring through life’s storms. To them, you are a reflection of both strength and tenderness, someone who stands tall in their truth and yet, remains deeply compassionate.

Picture 3

Your future spouse will describe you as someone truly unique, a soul that carries a blend of lightness and depth. They'll tell their friends and family that you have a creative spirit, someone who sees beauty and possibility in the world around you. Your imagination knows no bounds, and it’s this quality that draws people to you, making them see the world through a new lens. They’ll speak of your transformative nature, how you have the power to change not only yourself but also the lives of those around you. When things seem stagnant or heavy, you bring a sense of renewal, a fresh perspective that breathes life into any situation. It’s as if you have the gift of turning difficult times into opportunities for growth, always finding a way forward. To them, you are not just a partner but a guiding light. They'll often mention how helpful you are, always ready to lend a hand or a kind word when someone needs it. They’ll describe you as someone who naturally nurtures and takes care of others, even when you sometimes forget to care for yourself. Your willingness to support and uplift those around you stands out to them, and they admire this selflessness deeply. At times, they might say that you have a tendency to neglect your own needs, getting so caught up in helping others that you forget to give yourself the same care. But it’s this very quality, this deep sense of empathy, that makes you so special to them. They will likely describe you as carefree, someone who doesn’t let life weigh them down too much, yet possesses a wisdom that runs deeper than what meets the eye. To them, you are more than just a lover; you are a soulmate, a friend, someone who understands them in ways others cannot. They will speak of how effortless it feels to be around you, how your presence brings them peace and comfort, as if you’ve known each other for lifetimes. And they will always smile when they mention how you bring a sense of joy and adventure to their life, a feeling of friendship that goes beyond the ordinary.

572 notes · View notes

amsznn · 8 months ago

Note

Please I’m begging u could you write Chris x reader when reader gets wisdom teeth out. Pet names only baby

WISDOM TEETH - c.sturniolo

“todays video is gonna be a bit different guys.” chris spoke into the camera before turning it to you, revealing you leaning on the kitchen counter. “y/n’s gonna get her wisdom teeth out!” your head quickly shifted towards the mention of ‘wisdom teeth’, unfortunately being reminded of what will be your reality in a matter of moments.

“chris stop, she’s literally fearing for her life right now.” nick said while laughing. “don’t worry y/n, its not that bad.” he said while patting your shoulder.

“i dont think i wanna go anymore.” you said quickly as you remembered how much pain nick was in while he was recovering.

“it’s gonna be alright baby, we’ll be right there.” chris reassures as he wrapped his shoulder around you, still holding the camera.

it took some convincing, and maybe some bribery from your boyfriend to get you food after the procedure, to finally convince you to get in the car and go through with getting your teeth pulled out. you had been in pain for a long time, complaining about the pain the teeth were causing you.

chris knew this and knew the best thing for you was to get them out. now you all were packed in the car with matt and chris in the front, while you and nick were in the back.

occasionally chris would reach behind his chair and allow you to hold his hand for some time. he knew as you were trying to appear calm and collected, your mind was actually racing.

but that feeling would only intensify as matt pulled into the parking lot of the dentist office. you did all the regulations upon entering the building, signing in, and waiting.

before you knew it you were in the chair, about to get those teeth pulled out.

“promise, you’ll stay?” you turned over to chris, watching him with pleading eyes as he grasped your hand in his.

“promise.”

timeskip

a couple of hours passed and you were finally off of the operating table. drowsy and unaware of where you were.

“where..where am i?” you spoke. you realized there was a strange feeling in your mouth. “waths in my mouf?!” you quickly tried to take out whatever it was from your mouth before chris stopped you.

“y/n, you need those in there baby.”

confusion took over for the rest of the day as your boyfriend completed the rest of the paper work and walked you out to the car where matt and nick were waiting.

“sooo..how’d it go?” nick asked amused as he saw your state. “nick, sit in the front i wanna sit with y/n.” chris said as he opened your side of the car door. you almost face planted as you got in but nick was quick to balance you before moving to the front seat.

chris didn’t feel like filming on the way back home since he’s sure you would kill him if he ever uploaded a video of you in this state. blabbering on and on about nothing that made sense while also questioning everything and anything.

“chrissy…why are there three of you.” you pouted before poking your boyfriend’s face, the reaching to poke matt and nick’s face as well. matt swatted your hand away and scolded you since he’s driving.

“why are you yelling at me?” you frowned at matt who you thought was chris before saying, “im breaking up with you!”

chris could only laugh at your antics causing his brothers to join in as well.

“y/n that’s matt.” he softly said while caressing your shoulder.

you made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth in realization, and muttered and apology to matt for threatening him.

you all made it back home, with chris carrying you to your shared room. as soon as he set you down on the bed it was lights out for you. immediately falling asleep in your boyfriend’s bed. he smiled as he moved his face in front of yours, softly giving you a kiss on the forehead, trying not to wake you up.

“i love you, y/n.” chris whispered, to which he got a snore in response. but thats all he needed. he knew you loved him just as much.

a/n: sorry i didnt know how to end it but i hope you enjoyed!

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #chris sturniolo headcanon #chris sturniolo x black reader #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic

889 notes · View notes

moonreader1010 · 3 days ago

Text

𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙚𝙘𝙝𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨?

𝓟𝓘𝓒𝓚 𝓐 𝓟𝓘𝓛𝓔 - ・❥・: ̗̀➛

︵‿︵‿୨♡ Ｒｅａｄｉｎｇｂｙ－ＭＡＥ ♡୧‿︵‿︵

(PLEASE DO CHECK OUT THE NOTE AT THE END OF THE READING)

PILE 1

First of all, The High Priestess? You are a damn enigma. You carry an air of mystery that drives them crazy. You’re not the type to lay all your cards (pun intended) on the table at once—you keep them guessing. You know when to speak, when to stay silent, and when to let your eyes do all the talking. Your intuition is on point, and your lover can feel that you know things—things they haven’t even said out loud.

Now, here’s where things get spicy-spicy. The Five of Wands isn’t about peace and quiet—it’s about tension, competition, and passion. This card tells me that you don’t just leave them speechless with your mystery—you also challenge them, push their buttons, and keep things fun in a way that makes their heart race.

How do you leave them speechless?You keep them on their toes. You’re not afraid to tease, to play a little hard to get, to make them work for your attention. And let’s be real—they love the chase.You spark their fire. This isn’t just about soft, slow romance (though you can do that too). This is about passionate, competitive, can’t-keep-your-hands-off-each-other energy. Maybe it’s a battle of wits, playful teasing, or tension that builds up until it explodes.You make them crave more. They’re left speechless because they never know what’s coming next. One minute, you're pulling away with a sly smile, and the next, you’re completely stealing their breath away. Unpredictability is your secret weapon.

Ohhh, and just when they think they’ve figured you out? You completely flip the script. The Ace of Cups is about overflowing emotion, deep intimacy, and love that feels like drowning in pleasure. If The High Priestess keeps them intrigued and the Five of Wands keeps them chasing, the Ace of Cups? That’s where they fall—all the way in.

PILE 2

First off, The Chariot is all about strength, confidence, and taking the wheel. You’re a force to be reckoned with, and that is immediately clear to anyone who crosses your path. You leave them speechless because you’re unapologetically in control of your life, your desires, and how you carry yourself. There’s a magnetic energy that pulls them in—there’s no guessing where you’re going or what you want because you radiate self-assuredness.

Okay, the Ten of Swords? This is about transformation through pain—but in a spicy way. You leave them speechless because you’ve been through your struggles and come out the other side stronger and hotter than ever. The Ten of Swords speaks to the end of a difficult cycle, the kind that often feels like being knocked down—but what happens next is what gets them every time. You rise from the ashes, a version of yourself that’s unstoppable.

How do you leave them speechless? You don’t let anything hold you back. You’ve been through the worst, and now you’re showing them a version of yourself that’s more confident, more powerful, and more ready to take what you want. You know how to break free and leave the past behind—which, let’s be real, is sexy. There’s something about someone who isn’t afraid to shed old skins, and you do it with such grace and power that they can’t help but be in awe. You turn pain into passion. That whole ‘rising from the ashes’ vibe? It’s not just emotional; it’s also physical. You channel that fire into your passion and energy, whether it’s in a seductive glance or a slow, powerful move that has them speechless in the best way.

And now, the Queen of Wands. Oh my God, this card is everything! The Queen of Wands is the embodiment of fiery, magnetic, unapologetic confidence. She is the woman who walks into a room and every head turns. She knows her worth, and she flames with passion, creativity, and irresistible allure. How do you leave them speechless? By being a goddess of charm, seduction, and strength—a true force that can't be ignored.

PILE 3

The Fool? You are a total wild card. You leave them speechless because you’ve got that energy of someone who is not afraid to take risks, to go after what they want with absolutely zero hesitation. There’s something thrilling about the way you live your life like it’s an adventure, and you drag them along for the ride, whether they’re ready or not. They never know what to expect with you—and that’s hot.

Next, the Knight of Cups. Oh, baby, this is where we get into full-blown romantic and emotional seduction. You leave them speechless by showing up with that perfect balance of passion and emotion. The Knight of Cups is all about expressing love in the most dramatic, sweeping, captivating way. And when it comes to love, you’re like a knight on a white horse—ready to sweep them off their feet and make them feel adored, cherished, and completely special.

How do you leave them speechless? You woo them with words. You know exactly what to say to make them feel like they’re the only person in the world. Your emotional depth and sincerity are intoxicating—they can’t help but be swept up in your charm. You know how to make grand romantic gestures. Whether it’s an unexpected date, a slow dance under the stars, or even just an unexpected compliment that’s so heartfelt, they’re left speechless by how much you care. You open up emotionally. They may not be expecting this kind of deep emotional connection, but when you share your feelings, it’s with such sincerity and passion that it leaves them stunned by your vulnerability and affection. You’re not afraid to show them the real you, and that’s a level of intimacy that takes their breath away.

Alright, here’s where the magic happens: Three of Pentacles. You leave them speechless because you’re not just a lover, you’re a partner—and you know how to build something beautiful together. This isn’t just about physical attraction; this is about you both coming together to create something amazing. Whether it’s your creativity, your shared goals, or the way you work together in sync, the chemistry between you two goes beyond the surface.

Ⓝⓞⓣⓔⓢ

Check out our latest ------------(18+) services

This is a general reading take what resonates and leave the rest.

All credit of the pictures goes to thier rightfull owners.

Sending lots of love to whoever is reading this, take care.

#tarot #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarotblr #pick a card #pick a pile #tarotcommunity #free readings #intuitive readings #free tarot readings #spicy pics #18+ readings #18+ tarot #fs tarot

372 notes · View notes

farshootergotme · 6 months ago

Text

I get emotional thinking about how his family would react to Bruce's change if he ever started working on himself, on improving his behavior. But the one I think about the most is Dick Grayson.

Alfred is the one who was there from the very beginning, but Dick Grayson is who arrived and made the biggest impact. He's the first kid who Bruce took in, the one who approached this man and became his first partner to fight by his side out in the night.

Dick was able to pull Bruce out of the darkness that consumed him. No matter how many times Bruce went back, Dick's presence was a constant reminder that there's not only shadows. That if Bruce pushes back, fights so he won't be dragged down, he will find light.

However, it was a cycle. Dick would get him out, but Bruce would go back, sooner or later. And repeat. And Dick realized this and knew he couldn't let that be his whole life. But despite the distance, it still affects Dick knowing he can't find a definite solution for Bruce.

So, seeing Bruce actually change, get better and seeing that last...it would lift the heaviest weight on Dick's shoulders, who's felt responsible for Bruce's emotions since the day he became Robin.

It's been implied to him that Bruce needs him, that he's who keeps him from falling. And Dick, despite not always feeling like he is enough, carries with that responsibility because, deep down, he also feels like he owes it to Bruce, who Dick has needed (still needs) present in his life, too.

Bruce getting better would be like being able to breath again, but it would be so suffocating too.

Dick would happy for Bruce, for the man who raised him. He'd be relieved that the hurt will stop, for both his father and those he's continuously pushed away. But then he'll be anxious, will it really last? How long until he can be sure? And he'll be scared, does he still need him, now? Does a Batman who's gotten help still need Dick Grayson Robin? Nightwing? And lurking in the back of his mind, there'd be anger. Why now? Why after all those years? Why not before? Was Dick not enough reason to change? Was he never worth this? And shame will drown those thoughts. It's selfish, to think that way. He should be happy. He wants to be happy. He is happy. But he is also mad. He's sad and he mourns the child who never saw this side of Bruce. And most of all, he loves. He loves Bruce too much to hate him for it. No matter how angry, no matter how hurt, he loves his father and he's grateful for him, for his efforts. And all he can do is smile and congratulate him because that's everything he feels he has the right to say.

And when all is said and done, Bruce will come to him and Dick will have to face the worst part of this change;

Apologies.

If Bruce has truly changed, then he would know there's more things than he can count with his fingers that he has to apologize to his son for. And out of everything else, this is what Dick Grayson fears the most.

Dick can take it, he can hear Bruce out, but he can't unpack all the pain he's been accumulating in front of his dad. He can't bring himself to say 'I forgive you' out loud despite having convinced himself long ago that it's alright.

Bruce doesn't didn't do apologies. Things happened and then went back to normal and Dick was okay with that. He forgave him, he did. So, Bruce doesn't need to apologize, he doesn't have to make him say it out loud. He can't tell him, but he's forgiven him long ago. Even if it hurt, even if he was still resentful sometimes, even if he wanted to yell at him for it, Dick could push it all down and forgive him. Bruce shouldn't apologize, shouldn't bring it up again because Dick isn't strong enough to keep it all bottled up if Bruce starts acknowledging it, if he confirms that Dick wasn't crazy for feeling wronged and hurt.

He can take it, but he really can't.

Just thinking about it drives me crazy because, out of everyone, Dick Grayson might be the kid who's been waiting for this the longest, and who thought he'd already given up the idea of his father finding a lasting happiness that would bring permanent change in him. And it would be just so overwhelming.

#this ended up being longer than first intended #thank you for the people who write fics about this #always help me survive canon #dick grayson thoughts #dick grayson #nightwing #robin #bruce wayne #batman #batfamily #batfam #bruce wayne is emotionally constipated and he's gonna cause his son the worst emotional crisis of his life the day that changes #thank you for coming to my ted talk #dc comics #dc #is this ooc?

427 notes · View notes

russo-woso · 3 months ago

Text

Keep it a secret || Beth mead x Williamson!reader

Request | Masterlist | Prompt list

Warning ACL injury

Summary You tear your ACL but amidst the chaos, can you and your girlfriend keep your relationship a secret?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It had been a thrilling match to say the least.

England had been playing against South Africa in Coventry.

The bright lights of the stadium shone on the grass, the stadium lit up with hopeful fans.

You looked up after the whistle had blown to indicate substitutions.

You watched as Beth, your girlfriend, left the pitch alongside your sister, Leah.

You and Beth had been dating for just over six months but had decided to keep it all a secret.

That way you didn’t have to face the chaos from your teammates or the media.

And it also meant that you got some time with Beth before your sister threatens to kill her, the usual Leah liked to do to your past partners.

Your cheeks reddened as Beth sent you a wink once she’d sat down.

The game soon carried on the game soon became your main priority again.

As a defender, you were constantly running up and down to stop the ball getting to the box.

You were so focused on the match, putting your body on the line to stop the ball getting by.

So when South Africa had a perfect ball through, you ran as fast as you could to catch up but your hopes of stopping a goal came tumbling down when you ended up tumbling down.

A searing pain ran through your body as you grabbed your knee.

You smacked the floor in anger, your face buried in the floor.

You knew what you had done, you’d heard enough description of it from Leah and Beth.

Alessia was the first to you, your best friend always knowing when your injuries were bad.

She waved the medics immediately, sending leah a panicked look.

You felt a hand on your back and turned to look at Beth.

Beth had clearly ran from the bench to see if you were okay.

“Beth?”

“I’m here, love.”

“I’ve done it. I know I have.” You cried, grabbing ahold of Beth’s hand as she moved your head into her lap.

In that moment, Beth didn’t care if she was revealing your relationship. She just wanted to help you and you didn’t care either, wanting to be as close to Beth.

The medics brought the stretcher on, helping you on before carrying you off, Beth staying by your side, kissing your head.

You went straight to the hospital, knowing your mum was in the crowd so she could drive you home.

Beth and Leah went with, Leah not saying a word.

Once the scans were done, you were sent to a room where the three of you sat patiently.

“I’m gonna go grab some coffee, want one too?” Beth asked, standing up from her seat.

“Please.” You whispered, sending her a weak smile.

You looked over at Leah, expecting her to say something but instead, you were met with silence.

She was gazing out the window to the city that lay outside.

“So… you and Beth?”

“Yeah… listen Le, I’m sorry. We were going to tell you at some point. We just wanted some privacy to explore what we wanted with each other first.” You explained, watching Leah nod.

“I’m your big sister, Y/N, I thought we told each other everything?”

“We do, Leah, I promise. Just not Beth, we wanted to have a bit of time together alone without anyone knowing. Mum doesn’t even know.” You continued your explanation.

“Does Alessia know?”

You shook your head, Leah sending you a surprised look.

“If Alessia doesn’t know then you really must have wanted to keep it private.” Leah said, knowing you tell Alessia everything and anything.

“We really wanted to. I’m sorry.”

“Are you happy?”

“So happy. Le, Beth makes me laugh, she makes me smile when I’m sad, she’s just…incredible. There’s no true word that explains how happy she makes me. Please give her a chance, I know you’re protective but you know Beth, she’s a good one.”

“I’ll still have words with her, but if you’re really that happy then I think I can give her a chance.” Leah told you, sending you a smile.

“I would get up and hug you but I don’t really think I can.” You joked but before you could even finish, Leah had jumped up and wrapped her arms around you.

“Just think, if you and Beth get married, me and her would be sister in laws.”

“You would.” You agreed, watching Beth walk into the room.

“Hi, sister in law.” Leah said

“She’s okay with it?” Beth questioned, looking at you.

You nodded excitedly, watching a massive smile appear on her face.

“You’re still getting the big sister talk though, Mead.”

“Of course I am.”

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #womens football #woso fanfics #leah williamson #beth mead x reader #beth mead

324 notes · View notes

leirastar · 15 days ago

Text

new world | chapter 8

Pairing: Ot8 Ateez x reader AU: fantasy AU | stranger -> mates Summary: A tragic accident left you unable to use your wings and, with that, claimed your father's life, leaving you in the care of your noble uncle. In Hala, a house of eight kingdoms, each boasting its own wonders, you never imagined that amidst the pain, you would also fall—this time, in love. Word Count: 4k | 17 minutes A/n: I'M BACK! this is the best chapter i've written so far although it is quite...scary hihi. i also decided to change my username!! Warning: violence (physical assault, knife wounds), blood, injury, threats, emotional distress, storm, suspense, disturbing content, danger, manipulation

The storm had rolled in without warning, the kind that seemed to devour the world in sheets of rain and roaring winds. Thunder rumbled deep and low, as if the earth itself was groaning, and the wind howled through the trees, bending them to its will. You sat curled near the window, your knees drawn to your chest as you watched the rain lash violently against the glass. Each drop exploded on impact, a thousand tiny reminders of how fragile the barrier was between you and the chaos outside. The air in the room felt heavy—like the storm wasn’t just outside, but pressing into the walls, seeping into the cracks and corners, creeping closer with every distant flash of lightning.

It had only been a few days since Yunho left.

Time had stretched since then, moving sluggishly, dragging you along with it. The memory of his presence clung to the room, an invisible ghost that refused to fade. You could almost see him now, standing by the door, dripping from the rain, his coat weighed down and his shoulders slumped as if the storm itself had carried him here. He hadn’t said much that night—Yunho was always sparing with his words—but the way he looked at you said everything he couldn’t. Eyes soft but tired, as though he were asking you for something he couldn’t name.

The last storm had felt different, though. There had been a strange comfort in it, as if it was ushering him toward you, not driving him away. You had watched him wring water from his sleeves, his hair plastered to his forehead, and you’d laughed despite the tension in the air, offering him a towel you knew he’d refuse at first, insisting he was fine. He always did that—tried to be stronger than he needed to be.

But now, the storm felt cruel. There was no gentle promise of someone appearing at your door. Only the emptiness of the room, the silence made louder by the cacophony outside. The glass rattled faintly under the force of the wind, and you wondered if it could shatter, if the storm could simply sweep you away, erase the space Yunho had once occupied, and leave nothing behind.

You leaned your forehead against your knees, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to steady yourself. It was just a storm, you told yourself—just rain and wind and noise. But your heart ached in your chest, and deep down, you knew the truth: storms like this didn’t just pass through. They left things broken. Torn apart. And you couldn’t help but wonder if Yunho knew that too when he walked away.

Flashback

The knock on your door had been sharp, almost frantic, cutting through the low rumble of thunder that had been steadily growing closer. You hurried to answer, your heart leaping in your chest, hands fumbling with the latch. When you finally pulled it open, the gust of wind that blew in stole the breath from your lungs, carrying with it the sharp chill of rain and the storm’s raw, electric energy.

And standing there, like he had walked straight out of the storm itself, was Yunho.

“Yunho?” you breathed, stunned, your voice barely carrying over the howl of the wind.

He stood in the doorway, drenched from head to toe. Water streamed down the length of his muted gray cloak, pooling on the wooden floor beneath him. His dark hair hung in soaked strands across his face, plastered to his forehead and cheeks, and the heavy fabric clung to his broad frame like the weight of the storm itself.

Droplets rolled from his jaw, dripping steadily from his chin, and despite the wildness of his appearance, his golden-brown eyes met yours—steady, calm—unshaken by the chaos that surrounded him.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the storm raging behind him, the wind howling as though trying to sweep him back out into the darkness. Then he stepped inside, water pooling where he stood.

“Yunho, oh my—” You reached for him instinctively, pulling him further inside before the storm could tear him away. “You’re soaked!”

“It’s just rain,” he murmured, as if the water running off him and the weight of his clothes didn’t matter at all.

“It’s freezing,” you snapped, half out of concern and half out of disbelief that he could even say something like that. “What were you thinking, coming here in this weather?”

He didn’t answer immediately, and it only made your worry grow as you shut the door behind him with a heavy thud. The room, which had felt so small and quiet before, now seemed to expand with his presence, filled with the sound of the storm battering the walls outside and the sharp drip of water falling from his cloak.

“Take it off,” you said, not unkindly, tugging at the heavy cloak hanging from his shoulders. “You’re going to catch a fever, Yunho.”

There was a hesitation before he relented, his strong hands reaching up to unclasp the soaked fabric. You helped him shrug it off, grimacing at the sheer weight of it as it slumped into your arms like an unwelcome guest. “This is soaked through,” you muttered, carrying it to hang near the hearth. “You must have been flying for hours.”

Yunho didn’t respond, at least not right away. He stood there, water still dripping onto the floor, his broad shoulders sagging slightly as though he were finally letting himself feel the toll of the journey. He seemed almost out of place—like something wild that had wandered into your small, warm home. You glanced back at him and sighed. “Come closer to the fire. You’re going to freeze standing there.”

He moved quietly, sinking down onto the hearth’s edge without complaint, stretching his long frame toward the flames. You knelt beside him, stirring the embers until the fire leapt higher, flames crackling as they licked up the fresh log you’d thrown on. Warmth began to creep back into the room, chasing away the sharp chill the storm had brought in.

Yunho didn’t say a word as he sat there, his arms resting on his knees, hands dangling loosely. The firelight painted his features in gold, softening the sharp edges of his jaw and the faint crease between his brows. He looked tired—more than tired. He looked worn.

You stood up, grabbing a dry towel from the small shelf nearby, and returned to kneel in front of him. “Here,” you said, unfolding it. “Dry your hair before you get sick.”

He blinked at you, as if surprised, but didn’t resist when you reached up and gently pressed the towel against his soaked hair. The strands were still icy cold, and you frowned, shaking your head. “What were you thinking, Yunho? You shouldn’t have been out there in this kind of weather. It’s dangerous.”

His gaze distant, as though part of him had been left out there in the storm. Yunho had always been quiet, his presence like a still lake, but tonight something about him felt…unsettled. The silence was heavier than usual.

You took a seat beside him, the fire crackling between you as it filled the silence. The rain pounded against the roof in a steady rhythm, the wind still howling beyond the walls. It felt as though the storm had wrapped itself around your small home, refusing to let go.

Finally, Yunho spoke, his voice low, nearly lost in the sound of rain. “I like that you worry about me.”

Your hands stilled, the towel slipping slightly as you glanced up at him. “What?”

He turned his head just slightly to meet your eyes, the firelight reflecting in his gaze, warm and steady. “Because it means you cared enough to miss me.”

The confession hit you in a way you didn’t expect, something tightening in your chest as the storm outside seemed to pull away. You swallowed, trying to hold back the emotion threatening to spill over. “Of course I care, Yunho,” you whispered.

“Why are you here?” you asked softly, not to demand an answer but to understand.

He glanced at you, the firelight catching in his golden-brown eyes, giving them an almost ethereal glow. “Because you’re here.”

The words settled between you like a fragile thing, unspoken feelings curling in their shadows. Yunho leaned back against the wall, his hands loosely resting on his knee, though you could see the tension in his shoulders—the kind of tension that never fully went away.

“It’s been weeks,” you murmured, almost afraid to break the stillness. “I thought—”

“I’ve been busy,” he interrupted, his voice low but gentle. His words brushed the surface of the truth without revealing what lay beneath.

You frowned faintly but let it go, your gaze drifting to the fire as the flames flickered and danced. For a while, neither of you spoke. The storm raged outside, a relentless force, but in here, the world was quiet save for the crackling of the fire. Its warmth seeped into your skin, settling the chill in your bones, though nothing could touch the ache that had begun to build in your chest.

Yunho’s breathing was steady beside you, and when you glanced at him, you saw the shadows of exhaustion carved into his features. The firelight painted him in soft gold, his sharp edges blurring into something gentler, something more familiar.

“You look tired,” you said softly, more observation than accusation.

He didn’t look at you. “It’s been a long journey.”

You hesitated before reaching for the kettle by the fire, pouring tea into the two cups that sat nearby. Yunho watched you this time, his expression unreadable but his gaze steady, following every small movement. When you handed him the cup, he accepted it without a word, cradling it between his large hands as though letting the warmth sink in.

A heavy pause lingered between you both, unspoken truths pressing at the edges. You sipped your tea, the steam curling gently into the air, a fleeting reminder of comfort. Yunho finally spoke, his voice softer this time. “I need to leave again soon.”

The words settled into the quiet like a stone dropped into water, their weight rippling through the stillness.

“Where will you go?” you asked after a beat, your voice almost too soft to hear.

“Charadyn,” he replied, his tone matter-of-fact, though it didn’t stop the ache that spread through you. “I’m needed.”

“And after that?” you pressed, though you already knew the answer.

Yunho’s gaze softened as he looked at you again, his voice gentler this time. “I’ll come back.”

You stared at him, at the faint curve of his lips that wasn’t quite a smile, at the firelight that danced across his features. It was a promise—one spoken with such quiet conviction that it made your chest ache. And yet, part of you couldn’t shake the fear that promises made in the midst of storms didn’t always hold.

He must have seen the doubt in your eyes, because Yunho leaned just slightly closer, his voice so quiet it was barely more than a whisper.

“I always come back to you.”

The words anchored you, as steady as the man beside you. You didn’t answer, but Yunho seemed to know. Slowly, you leaned closer, hesitating for only a moment before resting your head against his shoulder. Yunho didn’t move, his breathing steady and calm as he let you settle beside him.

Yunho broke the silence first, his voice quieter than before. “Sometimes I wonder if I stayed too long.”

You turned to him, your brows knitting together. “Why?”

His gaze lingered on the fire, the flames reflecting in his golden eyes, flickering with something unreadable. “Because I knew you’d make it harder to leave.”

The confession hit you like a weight, your chest tightening as his words sank in. Yunho didn’t look at you when he said it, his expression carefully neutral, but you could hear the truth in his voice—soft and unsteady, a whisper of something he didn’t dare say out loud.

“Yunho…” you murmured, searching for words you couldn’t find.

He finally looked at you then, his gaze holding yours like an anchor. The room felt smaller, the storm quieter, as though it too had paused to listen. For a moment, it felt like he might say something more, like the space between you could be bridged with just one word—one movement.

You set your tea down and leaned into him, your head resting gently against his shoulder. For a moment, he didn’t move, but then you felt the slightest shift, his arm resting around you with careful hesitance, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed this.

And in his hands, the weight of the day suddenly hit you all at once, and a yawn escaped your lips. Your eyes began to flutter shut, and you blinked, trying to chase away the drowsiness creeping in.

“Rest, my love,” he murmured, his voice like a quiet hum in the stillness. “I’ll stay here till you sleep.”

The words wrapped around you like a blanket, easing the tightness in your chest as you allowed your eyes to flutter closed. Yunho stayed perfectly still, his warmth and the soft rhythm of his breathing grounding you like an anchor.

And just as you began to drift into the quiet pull of sleep, you felt it—a soft press of lips against your forehead, light as a whisper but carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken things. A spark flickered through you, brief but electric, chasing away the last lingering chill from the storm.

You wanted to open your eyes, to say something, but you couldn’t. Yunho didn’t pull away, staying there as the fire crackled and the storm howled outside, and you let yourself sink deeper into sleep, safe in the warmth of his presence.

Present

The memory slipped away, leaving only the storm outside and the silence inside. You pressed a hand to your chest, feeling the cool weight of the pendant Yunho had given you days before—a lifeline, a promise he would come back. You missed him. More than you’d ever admit, even to yourself.

In the days since he had left, the house had felt quieter, emptier. Your uncle had visited a couple of times, bringing with him small comforts—a loaf of bread, a bottle of honeyed tea—but his presence, while kind, had never lingered long. He always seemed to glance at you with quiet understanding, as if he knew the weight you were carrying but couldn’t find the words to ease it.

And then there were the letters from Yunho. A handful of them had arrived over the past few weeks, carried by owls that had braved the cold winds and sharp rain to deliver them. The sound of their wings against the window at dawn had startled you the first time, but now you almost looked forward to it, searching the skies in the early mornings for a shadow on the horizon.

The writing had been Yunho’s, his penmanship careful yet hurried, as if he had written them in the midst of something urgent. The words were simple, but they had been enough to keep you tethered: I’m safe. I’ll come back soon. Another had arrived two days later, shorter still but somehow sweeter: Don’t worry about me. I miss you.

The last letter sat on the table now, its edges slightly crumpled from where your thumb had lingered over the page. Yunho’s words had been hastier this time, written with ink that smudged faintly in places, as though his hand had been shaking or rushed: I hope you’re warm. I’ll be there before you know it.

You had read those words more times than you could count, holding onto them like an anchor. But tonight, even the comfort of Yunho’s letters couldn’t ease the weight in your chest. The fire had burned low, the light barely enough to hold back the shadows, and the storm outside roared as though it might swallow the world whole.

Then came the knock.

It shattered the stillness like a crack of lightning, loud and deliberate. You jumped, your pulse racing, fingers tightening reflexively around the pendant.

It came again—three sharp knocks, purposeful, as though someone was waiting for you.

Who would be here in a storm like this?

“Yunho?” you whispered under your breath, a ridiculous flicker of hope sparking in your chest. You hurried to the door, pausing only to steady your breath before pulling it open.

But there was no one there.

The wind howled, whipping through the trees, rain soaking the ground at your feet. You leaned out slightly, peering into the dark. “Hello?” you called.

Silence.

You stepped back, shutting the door firmly behind you, your fingers trembling. Then a sharp crash sounded from behind you—the window had blown open. Curtains flailed wildly, the wind carrying sprays of rain into the room. You rushed to close it, your heart pounding.

The back door slammed open next.

You froze.

The silence after was unbearable, the air thick with tension.

“We finally meet,” a deep voice intoned, slow and deliberate, each word drawn out as though he were savoring the moment.

The voice startled you, low and chillingly calm, cutting through the sound of the storm outside. Sharply, you turned toward the dining room, the storm outside suddenly seeming distant.

And there he was.

A man sat casually at your table, legs crossed as though he’d been there all along. His features were young, sharp, and unnervingly handsome, but there was something off about him—something you couldn’t quite place. A smile curved his lips, too pleasant, too practiced.

His smile widened as his sharp gaze swept over you, lingering just a little too long. “You’re a pretty one,” he murmured, his tone smooth, almost admiring.

You didn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Every instinct screamed at you to run, but your feet felt rooted to the floor.

“Who… who are you?”

The man tilted his head, his smile never wavering. “Oh you know, just a traveler. Though I’d say your door was a bit difficult to get through.”

“You broke in,” you said, your voice trembling.

He shrugged lightly. “A formality, really.” He leaned back, his sharp gaze sweeping over you, lingering just a moment too long.

“Shame, I thought he’d hide you better.”

You stiffened. “Who?”

“Oh, you know who.” His eyes glinted, the smile widening ever so slightly.

“Yunho.”

Your chest tightened painfully. He knows Yunho.

“What do you want?” you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady.

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he tilted his head and unfolded himself from the chair, his movements slow and deliberate, every step he took drawing him closer. You stumbled back instinctively, your heart thundering in your ears.

“You’re important, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice almost admiring. “He wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble if you weren’t.”

Your back hit the wall, and you flinched as he closed the distance. He approached, every step measured, closing the distance between you far too quickly. He stopped just short of you, his presence suffocating. The storm outside seemed quieter now, as though it too were holding its breath.

“What… do you want?” you repeated.

You flinched as he reached into his coat and withdrew a slender, gleaming knife. The metal caught the faint glow of lightning streaking through the window, its edge ironed and sharp.

“Hmm… I wonder.” he hummed thoughtfully, almost to himself, the knife spinning lazily between his fingers.

“Shall I hurt the pretty mate of the king?” His tone was almost thoughtful as he tilted the thin, ironed knife in his hand, its edge catching the faint glow of lightning outside.

“Wouldn’t that be something?”

With deliberate slowness, he lowered it, the blade grazing the skin at the curve of your jaw—just enough to sting, just enough to make you freeze.

The edge of the blade met your skin—cold, grazing along your jawline at a delicate angle. Your pulse pounded painfully in your ears, and you forced yourself not to flinch, not to give him the satisfaction.

“A little cut on your pretty face wouldn’t bother you, right, my dear?” He tilted his head, watching your reaction, his smile never faltering.

“Sweetheart?”

His voice was a murmur, far too calm for the situation. You flinched as the blade’s edge pressed just slightly deeper—not enough to cut, but enough to promise he could.

You forced yourself not to move, not to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear, but your heartbeat roared in your ears.

“You’re a pretty one,” he added after a moment, his voice dropping lower, almost a whisper. “Wouldn’t want to get hurt.”

The knife’s edge lifted, and you exhaled sharply, relief warring with terror. The man straightened, his smile widening into something far more dangerous as he stepped back just enough to let you breathe.

“What… do you want?”

The storm outside seemed to rage harder, the windows rattling as though the house itself feared the man’s presence. Your chest heaved as you stared at him, your mind screaming at you to move, to fight, to do something.

He was still too close, that cruel blade grazing the line of your jaw, his dark smile lingering like a shadow.

“Tell King Yunho he’s running out of time,” he murmured, his voice dripping with venomous satisfaction.

And then something snapped inside you.

With a sharp intake of breath, you lashed out, shoving him with all the strength you could muster. His balance faltered just slightly, his smile twisting into a surprised sneer. You seized the moment, grabbing the first thing you could—a heavy iron candlestick from the nearby table—and swung it toward him.

The impact wasn’t clean, but it was enough. The edge of the candlestick struck his shoulder, and he grunted, staggering back a step. His dark coat was torn, and a thin line of red bloomed where you’d hit him.

“You little—” His voice cut off as he surged forward. Before you could react, his hand shot out, shoving you back hard.

The air left your lungs in a painful rush as you slammed against the wall. Your head spun, the hard impact leaving stars in your vision. You tried to push yourself up, but he was already there, pinning you in place with terrifying ease.

His face was inches from yours now, his eyes cold and glittering, his cruel smile returning. “I was going to let you go, you know.” He tilted his head, voice mocking. “But this? This feels like it counts for something, doesn’t it?”

Your heart thundered as he reached into his coat again. This time, he withdrew a dagger—thinner than the last, its blade sleek and gleaming with an unnatural purple sheen. It caught the dim light like poison.

“Let’s give her a little something to remember me by,” he murmured, almost to himself, his voice calm and sickeningly sweet.

You barely had time to react before the cold kiss of the blade pressed against your cheek. The skin stung instantly where it grazed you, a faint burn left in its wake. You gasped sharply, jerking your head back, but there was no escaping him.

“Shh, don’t squirm now,” he said, his tone dripping mockery as the blade lingered, the purple sheen staining your skin. The burning sensation spread faintly, like ice creeping beneath the surface.

And then, as if to add insult to injury, he shoved you back hard—your head thudded against the wall once more, and the world swam dizzily. You slumped to the floor, your body heavy, your cheek throbbing where the blade had touched it.

Through blurred vision, you saw him crouch slightly, his smile widening into something truly cruel as he tilted his head. “Looks like it worked, doesn’t it?”

Your breathing came ragged as his voice dropped to a whisper.

“See you soon.”

And with that, he stood, his silhouette blurring as he turned toward the shadows, the storm roaring louder as if swallowing him whole. The last thing you heard was the slow, deliberate sound of his boots as he disappeared, leaving only silence and the faint burn of the blade on your cheek.

The man’s words echoed in your mind, over and over, until they were all you could hear:

“Tell King Yunho he’s running out of time.”

Masterlist

seven | nine

Taglist (CLOSED):

@pinkpearlstar @deltamoon666 @kyra1205 @hecateslittlewitchlingdumplingsyum @caratiny-latte @seongwars @halloweenbyphoebebridgers @angelqueendom

@ffenjoyerdazme @lostxxgirl @xh01bri @neemaxx @furfoxsake22 @Thejentheredhead @soulphoenix1618 @pixie0627

@laurtiny112 @innocygnet @the-first-mate @miniverse-zen @katyeongs @nuggiesnuggetdog04 @sweetmoonlight9 @staytinyluv @bluesiebirdie @kaqua @ateezaddict24 @bamdoe @kandy108 @pixie0627 @bunnii-dolls @kheartost @xlilehx @lalelol @Tiny2018 @salnovna @roryy95 @fairylover68 @meowmeeps @awkward-fucking-thing @blackandgreenandblue @moniesmoon @skteezcursed

172 notes · View notes