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4linos · 2 days ago

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when the past knocks 2

seo changbin x f!reader, kim seungmin x f!reader

synopsis: you left to protect your son and yourself. but healing gets complicated when old ghosts return… and one of them still makes you laugh.

genre/warnings: angst, infidelity, emotional manipulation, grief, jealousy, unresolved feelings, slow burn, hurt/comfort.

wc: 16,998.

[when the past knocks part 1]

The morning felt like it had arrived too soon, dragging its weight across your chest, suffocating you with its inevitability. You had barely slept, your mind cycling through the words you and Seungmin had exchanged the night before, the look in his eyes when he saw the texts, the way everything seemed to snap so suddenly, everything falling apart in ways you never thought possible. You tossed and turned, trying to find some comfort in the bed that used to feel like home. But tonight, it felt like a cold, empty void between the two of you.

You had hoped maybe things would be different when you woke up. Maybe Seungmin would be there, sitting on the edge of the bed, tired from the fight but still here, still trying. But no.

The bed was already cold on his side.

You blinked, feeling an uncomfortable lump form in your throat as you pushed yourself up, rubbing your eyes, trying to force your body into action despite the exhaustion that clung to your limbs. The room felt too big, the silence almost suffocating.

You checked the bathroom connected to the bedroom, still expecting to see him there, even though you knew, deep down that he wouldn’t be. But maybe… maybe there would be something. A reason to hope that things hadn’t gone as far as they felt. But the bathroom was empty, and so was the small corner where he had placed his bag the night before.

His things were gone.

The clothes he had brought back with him, the ones he hadn’t bothered to put back in a suitcase, but had just tossed over the back of a chair were no longer there. There was no sign of him at all.

It felt like something heavy and sharp pressed against your chest. Not anger, not even frustration. Just hurt.

You wanted to be angry. You wanted to tell yourself that you should be relieved, that this was for the best. But you couldn’t. You loved him. You still loved him. And despite the lies, the betrayal, and the damage he’d done to you and your son, you couldn’t erase the love. You hated how it still clung to you, how it refused to leave, no matter how broken things were.

You called out for him softly, almost like a question. “Seungmin?”

There was no answer.

You walked downstairs slowly, feeling the weight of every step. You knew your mother would be down there by now, probably waiting with a warm breakfast as she always did. She was still trying to hold things together. You could feel the weight of her expectations, the hope in her eyes every time you walked in, the way she didn’t want to admit that something might be wrong.

When you got downstairs, your mother was in the kitchen, moving around the stove. Roan’s laughter echoed from the other room, a reminder of how normal everything was on the surface. But you felt like you were living in a different world. You cleared your throat, trying to sound casual, but the words still came out quieter than you intended.

“Mom, have you seen Seungmin?”

She paused, turning slightly, her expression unreadable. And then it softened, just a little, though it didn’t stop her from giving you a look. A look that wasn’t judgment, but concern. The kind of concern that mothers reserve for their children when they’re trying so hard to hold everything together, even when it’s falling apart.

“He left early this morning,” she said, a quiet finality in her voice. “Caught him leaving around 4 a.m. Said he had to go into the office today. He thanked me for letting him stay.”

Your stomach turned.

You nodded, trying to pretend it didn’t hurt to hear that. Trying to act like it was fine. “Okay,” you muttered, your voice thin and strained.

But she didn’t buy it. She stepped closer, crossing her arms in a way that told you she wasn’t going to let you off that easy. She studied you for a second, searching your face like she was trying to read some kind of clue.

“What’s going on with you two, huh? I thought you’d be working things out by now. I really thought it was just a bump in the road. After all these years, I figured it would be fixable.” Her voice cracked just a little, and it caught you off guard.

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to just collapse right there in front of her. You felt the weight of everything you hadn’t said. The weight of everything you had been holding back.

And for a brief moment, you almost thought about telling her everything, the truth, raw and exposed. That Seungmin had destroyed your trust, that the marriage was over, that there was no easy fix to this. But when you looked at her, you saw the years of hope, the way she had loved Seungmin like her own son. You saw the way she still believed in the “happy ending” for the family she’d always dreamed of.

You couldn’t break her, too.

So you lied.

“It’s fine, Mom. We’re just… working through things. It’s been tough, you know? But we’re figuring it out.”

She didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she didn’t push either. Her eyes softened, but she couldn’t hide the doubt in them.

“Well,” she said, her voice tightening, “he left early this morning, said he wanted to give you some space. I heard you two arguing last night.” Her voice dropped a little. “You didn’t seem like things were fine then.”

Your heart skipped. She heard you?

But you couldn’t react, not now. Not when everything felt like it was already on the edge.

You forced a smile, shaking your head slightly. “We’re just… having a hard time communicating right now. But we’ll be okay. I’m sure we will.”

Your mother didn’t press further. She crossed her arms and looked at you with that knowing expression. “You’re sure? Because I’ve never seen you like this. You don’t have to keep pretending everything’s fine if it’s not.”

But before you could respond, Roan came bounding into the kitchen, his hair messy from sleep, a bright smile on his face. “Mom! I’m ready for breakfast!”

The moment was over, broken by the sound of your son’s excited voice. And you felt an immediate pang of guilt for lying in front of him, for pretending to be okay when everything felt like it was crumbling.

You forced yourself to smile at Roan, pushing the sadness deep down. “Okay, buddy, let’s get you something to eat.”

But your mother’s eyes lingered on you for a second longer, as if waiting for something you weren’t ready to say. Then she turned and started preparing breakfast as if nothing had happened.

The rest of the morning passed in a haze of motions. You got Roan dressed and ready for school, the conversations were light, forced, and polite. But in the back of your mind, you could feel everything shifting. The truth you weren’t telling. The love you weren’t ready to let go of.

The ping of your phone broke the quiet stillness of the morning. You were sitting at the kitchen counter, slowly sipping your coffee, eyes unfocused, trying to drown out the weight of everything. It was too early for this. The morning felt like a battle between the pull of comfort and the sharp sting of everything unraveling around you. You hadn’t heard from Seungmin all day after the night’s argument, and despite your internal pleading not to think about him, your mind had been consumed by him, by everything he was, everything you once had together.

You pulled your phone toward you. The message was from Seungmin.

It was a simple text: “Hey, can I call Roan tonight? I just want to check in on him and hear his voice.”

You stared at the message for a moment, your thumb hovering over the screen. It hurt to even acknowledge that he wasn’t here. You’d been waiting for him to step up, to take accountability, to make things right, but it wasn’t like that, was it? He had left. And now he was giving you space. Space you didn’t even know if you wanted, but were probably going to have to learn to live with.

You couldn’t blame him for needing space. You needed it too. But how do you move forward from this? How do you separate the love that’s still so strongly rooted in your heart from the anger, the betrayal, and the overwhelming sadness? You missed him so much that it physically hurt. But there was so much damage between you two.

You quickly typed a response, something simple “Yeah, that’s fine. Roan will be happy to hear from you.”

Then came the barrage of texts that you hadn't expected, each one coming faster than the last.

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“I left early this morning because the argument from last night made me realize we both need space.” The words were clear and deliberate, almost as if he was trying to make himself sound reasonable, calm.

“I’m going to give you all the space you need for now. Whenever you’re ready, we can sit down and talk about what’s going to happen with us… and with Roan.”

A strange, hollow feeling spread through you as you read his words. You hadn’t expected him to leave. It was just too… final. But here he was, sending these texts, acting like everything could still somehow be fixed. And deep down, you didn’t know if you wanted that. You weren’t sure what you wanted anymore.

You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you let your phone sit on the table while you mindlessly stirred your coffee. The silence was deafening, and you felt the ache in your chest grow. Was he right? Was space the answer? Could you and Seungmin really talk about the future? And even more confusing, did you want to?

You loved him. You still loved him. That love hadn’t faded, even in the wake of everything that had happened. Even now, despite the anger and betrayal, it felt like your heart refused to let him go.

You hated that it hurt. You hated how badly you still wanted to fix things, to hold onto the family you once had. You wanted to feel that warmth again, the kind that was once so certain between you and Seungmin. You wanted to believe it could all go back to how it was before.

But something had changed. Something else had wormed its way into your mind. And it wasn’t just Seungmin anymore.

Changbin.

His face flashed in your mind, sharp and bright like a sudden storm cutting through the fog.

It wasn’t just that you remembered him. It wasn’t just the memories of the past, of high school, of how he had always been there for you, how he'd always understood you. It wasn’t even the fact that you had spent time with him recently, reconnecting and laughing over old stories.

It was the way you felt now, in the silence after Seungmin’s texts.

The way you smiled at your phone after reading his message. The way your chest felt lighter with every word he sent, the way your thoughts drifted to him and not Seungmin.

Suddenly, you were questioning everything. The connection with Seungmin that you had once believed was unbreakable, it felt less solid now. More fragile. As though it was built on sand.

You hadn’t meant for things to get complicated again. You didn’t want to feel this pull toward Changbin. Not now. Not when everything with Seungmin was already so volatile. But it was like trying to fight the current, your thoughts kept returning to him. To the way he made you feel seen, understood, and even happy. There was no bitterness, no tension, no past mistakes haunting the space between you.

The thought of Changbin now felt like a breath of fresh air compared to the suffocating weight of the relationship with Seungmin.

And it wasn’t just about the past. It was now. You’d spent hours talking to him, laughing with him, reconnecting in ways you hadn’t expected. And even though the friendship was unexpected, there was this undeniable connection. An attraction that had been buried under the weight of your life with Seungmin, but now seemed to bubble back to the surface.

Your thoughts were scattered, tangled between the man you had married and the one who once held your heart, the one who was still somehow here, slipping back into your life.

A sharp ping broke your reverie. Another message from Seungmin.

“I just wanted to remind you that I’m here when you’re ready. For you. For Roan. Don’t shut me out.”

You felt the familiar sting of guilt. You wanted to respond. To tell him that you didn’t know what you wanted anymore, that you didn’t know if you could fix things. But you didn’t. Instead, you set your phone down and stood up.

The pull toward Changbin had unsettled you. You didn’t want to admit it, but you couldn’t deny it either.

The more you tried to push it down, the more it crept up. He was becoming a constant thought. The more you thought about him, the more the idea of Seungmin and what you had with him seemed less and less certain.

You loved Seungmin. You did. But you didn’t know if the love you had was enough to fix everything. You didn’t know if it was enough to erase the years of resentment, the lies, the unspoken words between you two.

And now, a part of you was wondering if it was possible to love someone else, someone who could actually see you. See you in a way Seungmin never had.

You leaned against the counter, feeling the weight of the decision hanging in the air, heavier than anything you had ever faced before. Would you even allow yourself to love again? Would you be willing to take the risk? Or would you bury everything, hoping that time and space would somehow heal the broken pieces of your marriage?

You couldn’t decide. Not yet.

And so, you pushed it all down, Seungmin’s texts, Changbin’s face, your emotions.

But you couldn’t escape the ache, the pull, the uncertainty.

And as the day dragged on, the questions remained.

What would you do next?

The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting soft, dappled shadows over the park as you sat on the blanket, surrounded by a picnic spread. Roan and Yuna were playing on the swings and climbing frame with the other kids, their laughter ringing through the air. It felt like a rare moment of peace, a fleeting escape from everything that had been weighing on your heart for the past few weeks.

But the conversation you were having with Changbin was the highlight of your day, as it always was. Changbin had just finished recounting one of his favorite stories from high school, one that had you laughing so hard you almost spilled the lemonade you were holding. The way he told it, with his wide grin and exaggerated gestures, made it feel like it happened yesterday.

You’d almost forgotten about that time. You and Changbin had been inseparable during those early years, always getting into some kind of trouble. But the one memory that always seemed to stand out was the time he’d tried sneaking into your room late at night, only to have your dad catch him in the act.

Changbin grinned at the memory, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I thought I was going to be a goner that night,” he laughed. “I was halfway through the window when your dad came storming in like a SWAT team. I don’t even know how he heard me. I thought I was being so sneaky!”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you remembered your dad’s furious face. “You were terrible at being sneaky,” you teased. “I told you not to come through the window. It was too obvious. But you still thought you could outsmart my dad.”

Changbin snorted, the memory still clearly amusing to him. “I swear, I never saw him coming. He just barged in like some kind of ninja. Then he grounded you for a month, right? It felt like a year, honestly. I couldn’t even talk to you outside of school. That was brutal.”

You nodded, your smile widening as you remembered the long, quiet days after that. “It was. My parents were furious when they found out what was going on. They never trusted you after that, especially my dad. He probably still tells that story to anyone who will listen.”

Changbin laughed again, a rich, deep sound that made your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t expected. “I can’t blame him. I deserved it. But I’d do it all over again if it meant I got to hang out with you. It was worth it. Every second of it.”

His words hit you in a way you couldn’t quite explain. You hadn’t realized how much you had missed hearing Changbin talk like this so open, so genuine. He had always been the kind of person who wore his heart on his sleeve, and even though so much had changed since high school, it still felt like you could talk to him without any pretense.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt something like warmth spread through you. A comfort you hadn’t realized you were craving. It wasn’t just the carefree way he talked about the past, or the teasing banter, or even the fact that he was just here, present and sharing this moment with you, but something deeper, something that felt like a connection you hadn’t realized was waiting to be rekindled.

Since Seungmin had left, you had been living in a quiet sort of limbo. Every day had felt like a blur of uncertainty. Your interactions with Seungmin had become limited to brief texts and calls about Roan. He had asked about you a few times, but those conversations were brief, awkward, and mostly focused on logistics how Roan was doing or if he could speak with him. And while part of you appreciated the space Seungmin was giving you to think, it also left a hollow feeling in your chest.

But here, with Changbin, it felt different. You didn’t have to pretend. You didn’t have to act like everything was fine or like you had everything figured out. With Changbin, everything felt like it could be uncomplicated again, just two old friends, reminiscing about the past and sharing laughs without the weight of expectations.

You glanced over at Roan and Yuna, who were giggling as they played tag. The scene felt almost too perfect. You didn’t want to overthink it, but you couldn’t help but notice how nice it was. Roan had been so happy lately. Maybe he didn’t fully understand the complexities of what was happening between you and Seungmin, but he felt secure in the routine you had established.

You turned your gaze back to Changbin, who was still in the middle of telling another hilarious story about high school, something about the time he had accidentally ruined a school play by tripping over the curtain during his big moment on stage. You laughed and shook your head, appreciating the simplicity of the moment. It was a stark contrast to everything else that had been happening in your life lately.

You weren’t sure when things had started to shift between you and Changbin, but now it felt undeniable. The way you found yourself smiling more easily when he was around, the way he seemed to fill the space left by the absence of Seungmin’s presence. It wasn’t that you didn’t still love Seungmin. You did. That love was still buried deep in your chest, like a flickering flame that refused to go out. But what you were beginning to realize was that you couldn’t ignore the fact that being around Changbin made you feel something new, something you hadn’t felt in so long.

You had always thought that after everything that had happened with Seungmin, your heart would be closed off, shut tight. But with Changbin here, with his easygoing nature and the familiarity of old memories, it was like something inside of you was starting to open again. You didn’t know what that meant, or what would come of it, but for the first time in weeks, you felt hopeful even if it was just a little.

The conversation shifted as you both fell into a comfortable silence, watching Roan and Yuna. You could feel Changbin’s eyes on you, but you didn’t turn to meet his gaze immediately. Instead, you focused on the moment, the quiet warmth of the afternoon, the soft rustle of the leaves above, the laughter of the kids echoing in the distance.

When you did turn to face him, he was watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite place like he was carefully considering something. You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“What?” you asked, your tone light.

Changbin seemed to hesitate for a moment, his smile faltering just slightly before he spoke. “I’m just glad we’re doing this.”

You blinked, not quite understanding. “Doing what?”

He shrugged, a little sheepish now. “This. Hanging out. It feels good, you know? Like it’s... easy. Like it always should have been.”

You felt something catch in your chest at his words, but you didn’t know what to say. So, instead, you just nodded, your throat suddenly tight. The silence stretched between you both, but it was a comfortable one, a shared understanding that something more was blossoming between you. Something you weren’t ready to name yet, but something you couldn’t ignore either.

And for the first time in a long while, the weight of your life didn’t feel quite so heavy.

The atmosphere between you and Changbin shifted subtly when he asked about Seungmin. The once-easy banter faltered, replaced by a quiet tension that neither of you could ignore. Changbin’s voice was careful when he spoke, as if weighing his words before asking.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he began, “but... what happened with Seungmin? If you’re okay sharing, that is. I just... I want to understand.”

He paused, letting the silence settle, as if giving you the space to decide how much, if anything, you wanted to share. You could see it in his eyes, a mix of concern, empathy, and the deep care he always had for you. It made the weight of your emotions even heavier.

You took a deep breath, looking over at Roan as he ran around the playground, his laughter ringing in your ears. He was so full of life, unaware of the storm you were weathering on the inside. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been holding in until that moment, how much had been left unsaid for weeks. Now, with Changbin’s patient gaze on you, it felt like the dam was finally starting to crack.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you said, your voice quiet. You reached for the bottle of water in front of you, your fingers trembling slightly as you picked it up. The coolness of the bottle felt oddly grounding. “I guess... I started noticing something was off about four months ago.”

Changbin’s eyes never left you, his expression soft but expectant. He wasn’t rushing you, but you could tell he was hanging onto every word you said. You drew a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself as the memory unfolded.

“It was subtle at first. Just... little things. He came home one night, and I could smell this strong perfume on him. It wasn’t mine. I tried to convince myself it was nothing, just some mistake. But I knew something was wrong. I never doubted Seungmin. How could I? He’d never given me a reason to, not once in all the years we’ve been together. But that night, I couldn’t ignore it.”

You paused, glancing at Roan again, his carefree joy in stark contrast to the ache you were feeling. You pushed through the tightness in your chest and continued, the words feeling heavier the more you spoke.

“Then, there was this one day, I had to borrow Seungmin’s car because mine was in the shop. I was just picking up lunch for him when I found something, something that didn’t belong to me. A necklace. It had a letter on it. Her initial. The woman he’d been seeing behind my back.”

Your voice caught at the end, but you fought to keep it steady. Changbin’s face had shifted, his brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, as if he could feel the hurt radiating from you. He didn’t say anything, just nodded slightly, signaling for you to keep going.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first. I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t what I thought it was. That I was just being paranoid. But then... I met her.”

The words were hard to get out, like they had been sitting in your throat for so long, just waiting to spill out. But now that you were saying them aloud, it felt like the weight on your chest was increasing by the second. You swallowed hard, but your throat felt dry.

“I went to Seungmin’s office one day to drop off a file he’d forgotten for him. And there she was. Wearing the exact same necklace. The one I found in his car. And Seungmin—Seungmin introduced us like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t a huge blow to everything I thought I knew about him. It... it hurt more than I could even explain.”

You paused, squeezing your eyes shut, not wanting to relive it but unable to stop the memories from flooding in. The way Seungmin had smiled at you when he introduced you both, like he didn’t even know how badly it would shatter you. How the world seemed to spin out of control in that moment.

“I didn’t know what to do. I was surrounded by his coworkers. I didn’t have the courage to confront him, not there, not in front of everyone. I just—” you stopped yourself, taking another shaky breath. “I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t. But later that night, I heard him on the phone with her. I just... I don’t know. It all started to spiral from there. I couldn’t pretend anymore. I knew what was going on. I knew he was seeing her.”

Changbin’s expression darkened as you spoke, his fists clenched slightly in his lap, clearly frustrated at the whole situation. He leaned forward, his voice low and steady as he spoke.

“You didn’t deserve that, you know?” he said, his words filled with genuine anger. “I don’t know how someone can do that to you. To betray your trust like that. You trusted him. You gave him everything, and he threw it away.”

You nodded, the sting of his words cutting deeper than you expected. You had been trying to hold it together for so long, but hearing Changbin’s words, hearing the sincerity in his voice, broke something inside you. You exhaled slowly, trying to push the tears back.

“I never expected it from him. Everyone always said Seungmin was head over heels for me. And for the longest time, I believed it. I felt it too. He made me feel like I was the only one in the world. But somewhere, somewhere along the way, he fell for someone else. And that was the hardest part.”

Your voice cracked as the weight of that realization settled in. You had loved Seungmin with everything you had. You had built a life together. A family. And to see him so easily slip away from you for someone else felt like the ground had been ripped out from under your feet.

Changbin’s hand reached out instinctively, resting gently on yours. The contact was warm, grounding, and it felt like a lifeline in the sea of confusion you were drowning in. You looked at him, grateful for his presence, for his understanding.

“I can’t believe he did that to you,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your hand in a comforting gesture. “You’re worth so much more than that. You deserve someone who sees you for who you are. Someone who doesn’t take you for granted. And I hate that he didn’t see that.”

The words were a balm, soothing a part of you that had been raw for so long. For a brief moment, you let yourself lean into the comfort of Changbin’s presence. You couldn’t fix the past, and you weren’t sure where things would go with Seungmin, but you felt a flicker of hope for the first time in a long time, and it scared you.

But it also made you wonder if maybe, just maybe, you had been holding onto a broken piece of your heart for far too long. And perhaps it was time to let it go, to allow yourself to heal, to move on.

You didn’t know what the future held. But right now, with Changbin by your side, with Roan laughing in the background, it felt like maybe, just maybe, you could start to breathe again.

You sat there for a few more moments, with Changbin’s hand still resting on yours. The sunlight was warm on your face, and the sounds of Roan and Yuna’s laughter filled the air, but it felt like everything else around you had momentarily faded. You didn’t have to say anything, because somehow, you knew Changbin understood. He wasn’t pressing for more details, nor was he making you feel like you had to explain yourself further. He was simply there, being the kind of person you’d always hoped for someone who didn’t shy away from the hard things but stayed right alongside you when they needed to be faced.

You glanced up at him, catching the way he was looking at you, his expression soft but intense, as if he were silently willing you to let go of the weight you had been carrying for so long.

“I never wanted to be in this situation,” you said quietly, breaking the silence, your voice carrying the weight of everything unsaid up until this point. “But somehow, I ended up here. I don’t even know how to fix things with Seungmin anymore.”

Changbin squeezed your hand lightly, offering you a gentle smile. “You don’t have to fix everything right now. It’s okay to be uncertain. It’s okay to not have all the answers. I think you’ve been carrying the burden of that relationship for so long that you haven’t been able to see what you deserve outside of it. But whatever happens, I’m here for you, okay?”

The sincerity in his words wrapped around you like a warm blanket. You hadn’t realized how much you needed someone to tell you that it was okay to not have everything figured out, that you didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone. You had been so focused on trying to keep everything together, on being the strong one for Roan, for your family, that you hadn’t even given yourself permission to feel the depth of the hurt, the confusion, the loss.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, but Changbin heard it. And that was enough.

For a long while, the two of you just sat there in comfortable silence, watching Roan and Yuna run back and forth across the playground. It felt like the world had, in some small way, started to right itself. Maybe not everything was fixed yet, but for the first time in a while, you could see the potential for it.

At some point, Roan and Yuna ran back to you, both of them breathless and flushed from all the running around. Roan immediately climbed up next to you, his small body pushing against yours as he asked for a sip of your water. You laughed softly, ruffling his hair and handing him the bottle.

“What were you two up to?” you asked, keeping your voice light, your mind momentarily distracted by the sight of Changbin’s easy smile as he chatted with Yuna about something funny that had happened while they were playing.

Roan took a long sip from the bottle before answering, “We were pretending to be superheroes! I was saving Yuna from the bad guys, and she was helping me stop them!” His eyes were wide with excitement, and for a moment, you just let yourself soak in his joy, feeling the weight of your earlier conversation lift just a little bit.

“Sounds like a good time,” you said, smiling at both of them.

As the afternoon wore on, you found yourself feeling a little lighter. The heaviness that had been in your chest wasn’t gone, but it felt less suffocating. You spent the rest of the time at the park talking to Changbin about random things, movies you’d loved, music you’d both forgotten about. Every now and then, Changbin’s eyes would flick to you, that soft, understanding look never leaving his face. You caught it once or twice, and it made your heart ache in a way you didn’t expect.

But you didn’t pull away. You let yourself feel it. The way he was there for you. How his friendship, his steady presence, made you feel like maybe you could take the next step forward, even if you weren’t sure exactly what that step was.

Eventually, the sun began to dip lower in the sky, and it was time to leave. Roan reluctantly agreed to head home, his energy starting to wane from all the running around. You packed up the blanket and snacks, your mind still wrapped in the thoughts of Seungmin, but also the subtle comfort of the moment you had shared with Changbin.

Life with Changbin was easy. Too easy, sometimes. You found yourself laughing more, smiling more, and just... feeling more than you had in a long time. It wasn’t that you were actively seeking a distraction, but it almost felt like everything that had been broken in your life was being patched up with something as simple as a few hours spent with him.

When he texted you, you felt that warm flutter in your chest. It was like a light breeze that made everything feel less heavy, less... suffocating. His jokes, corny as they were made you laugh like you hadn’t in years. And you knew it wasn’t just because of the jokes themselves. It was because of the way he looked at you when he said them, like you were the only one in the world who could possibly get how funny he was, even if his humor was a little goofy at times. And the way he smiled after making you laugh... it was like he was seeing you again, not just the person wrapped up in the struggles of life, but the person who had been buried under the weight of a marriage that had long lost its spark.

You tried not to think too much about it. Tried not to get caught up in the way he made you feel. Because you didn’t have feelings for him, right? That would be impossible. You were still married. You were still living in a home with Seungmin. You still had a son who needed stability. The idea of starting over, of letting go of everything you’d built even if it had been built on shaky ground felt too impossible to entertain.

But the more time you spent with Changbin, the more those lines blurred.

It was the way he noticed you in a way that no one else had. The way he’d listen to every word you said, paying attention to the smallest details, the things you thought no one else would care about. When you helped him with Yuna, making sure she was fed or entertained. It felt natural, like it was just something you were meant to do. And even more than that, Changbin would thank you in the most genuine way, making you feel like your efforts actually mattered. Every thank you, every smile he gave you made your chest tighten in ways you didn’t know you were capable of.

And when you realized he was taking time out of his own busy schedule to spend with you, even when it was just hanging out and talking about random things, it felt comforting. You found yourself looking forward to it. Waiting for his messages, his calls, and the next time you’d get to see him.

But here’s the thing. You didn’t have feelings for him, right?

You would try to convince yourself of that every time your heart skipped a beat when his name popped up on your phone. You would dismiss the way your stomach fluttered when he complimented you, or when he offered to drive you home from the grocery store just because he wanted to spend more time with you. You told yourself it was just friendship. That was all it was. You were still figuring things out with your marriage, still trying to keep everything together for Roan. Everything you had with Changbin was just a distraction, you thought. Nothing more.

But you couldn’t ignore how natural it felt when he was around. The way your conversations flowed effortlessly, the way you could talk to him about anything, even the things you didn’t feel comfortable sharing with anyone else. With him, you could be yourself in a way you hadn’t felt like you could be with anyone in a long time.

The simple truth was, it felt too good. It was too easy. You found yourself grinning every time you saw his name light up your screen. And yet, in the back of your mind, there was this nagging feeling, a voice reminding you that you still had a husband. A family to protect. A son who deserved a stable environment.

So, what was this? What was it that was pulling you towards him?

Maybe it was that, in all the chaos of the past months, he was the one thing that made sense. With Seungmin, everything was complicated, a mess of hurt feelings, betrayals, and unspoken words. With Changbin, it was simple. It was carefree. It was a reminder of who you used to be, the person who had felt loved and wanted, who had laughed without hesitation and smiled without second thoughts.

But you didn’t have feelings for him, right?

You told yourself that again. But this time, it didn’t feel as convincing. You had liked Changbin back then when you were in high school. But that was a long time ago. You were different now. You had a son, responsibilities. Your life was no longer about chasing feelings or fleeting moments of joy. Your life was about keeping things steady, for Roan’s sake, for Seungmin’s sake.

Yet, every time you saw Changbin, that line between friendship and something more seemed to blur just a little bit more. You found yourself wanting to stay in that moment, just a little longer. You didn’t want to leave when he dropped you off after dinner or when you’d walk out of a store and he’d offer to carry your bags for you. Those little gestures made you feel... special. Like maybe you hadn’t lost everything after all.

But you weren’t in love with him.

Right?

The sound of your phone buzzing in the dead of night made your heart leap, and for a brief second, you almost let it go to voicemail. It was late, and Seungmin never seemed to understand the boundaries of your new reality, calling you at odd hours of the night, pulling at strings you had carefully kept taut. You knew he’d probably just leave a message, something along the lines of “I’ll call in the morning.” But this time, something in you made you answer it. Maybe it was the guilt. Maybe it was the fact that despite everything, you still cared for him, and you didn’t want to cut him off entirely, even if that meant dealing with the same emotional tug-of-war that had been going on for months.

"Hello?" you said softly, your voice still rough from sleep.

The first thing he said, before even asking how you were, was, "I miss you."

Your throat tightened. You didn’t say anything, couldn’t bring yourself to. His voice had that familiar tone again, that soft vulnerability that used to make your heart ache in all the right ways, and yet now felt like a weight in your chest.

“I’m... I’m laying in bed,” Seungmin continued, his words dragging, like he was unsure of how to say what was on his mind. “The bed we used to share... I wish you’d come back. I miss you so much. And Roan, I miss him too.” His voice faltered, the emotional rawness unmistakable.

You could hear the rustling of sheets on his end, and then the quiet, barely-there sniffle that followed. It hit you harder than you thought it would. Despite all the hurt, despite what he did, you still felt for him. You wished you could hold onto the anger that had kept you steady, but in this moment, the hurt felt like it was leaking through the cracks.

“Are you okay?” he asked after a pause, as though he could sense something in your silence. You couldn’t lie to him. Not now, not after everything.

You didn’t answer immediately. Your mind was racing. Roan. Seungmin. Everything. You had to keep this together for Roan, but the weight of the past few months seemed to press down on your chest.

“I don’t know,” you finally answered softly, your voice distant. “I still don’t know how I feel about being around you.”

“I understand,” Seungmin said, his tone quieter now, almost apologetic. “I just... it’s been unbearable not having you here, not having you around. I miss coming home to you after work, seeing you and Roan. I don’t know how to do this without you.”

The words burned. You wished you could say it didn’t matter, that it was his own fault, that you had every right to shut him out and leave everything in the past. But the truth was, there was still a part of you, however small that ached for what had been lost. You couldn’t help it.

“Well,” you said, unable to keep the bitterness from creeping in, “I’m surprised you’re not keeping her there while I’m gone.”

There was a long pause on the other end. A tense, uncomfortable silence. You could practically hear him swallowing his pride.

“She’s not staying with me,” he finally said, his voice tight, like he was trying to hold back his emotions. “It was just a one-time thing. Please, can we just... let it go already?”

Let it go? How could you? How could you let it go when everything you thought was solid and permanent had been shattered in a matter of weeks? He had let you down. He had let both of you down. But despite everything, you could feel the temptation, the pull to forgive him. To believe that this could be fixed, that the person who had once loved you with so much intensity could still be there.

You let the silence linger. "It’s only been a few months," you said softly. "How am I supposed to let that go when you’ve been with her for who knows how long?"

“I understand,” Seungmin replied quietly. “But I’m telling you, it was a mistake. It didn’t mean anything.”

You didn’t say anything after that. It felt like the same old circular conversation you’d been having for months now. You both had been here before. Neither of you seemed to be getting anywhere.

Then, Seungmin brought up something that stopped you in your tracks. “I was thinking about coming over,” he said, his voice hopeful. “Maybe we can talk. For Roan’s birthday coming up. I don’t want to miss it.”

You immediately felt a knot in your stomach. The thought of him coming over again, especially with everything still so raw felt like the worst idea imaginable. You’d barely made it through the last few weeks without breaking. The idea of facing him in your parents’ house, knowing how much time you’d been spending with Changbin lately, was a mess waiting to happen. You didn’t want to deal with that. But at the same time, you knew he had every right to want to be there for Roan, especially if his son had been asking about him.

You sighed, long and drawn-out, before speaking. “I... I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to come over. Things are still... complicated.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “But it’s for Roan. I promise. I just want to see him. Please.”

You thought about it, your mind running through all the possible scenarios. Your heart wasn’t ready for the confrontation it would bring, but you also didn’t want Roan to feel caught in the middle of it. You sighed again, this time more reluctantly. “Okay. Fine. But it’s only for Roan. Nothing more.”

Seungmin’s voice brightened at that, and for a brief moment, you could almost feel his relief through the phone. “Thank you. I’ll be on the road first thing tomorrow.”

You didn’t respond, only nodded as if he could see you. Your thoughts were a whirlwind, but you managed to keep your voice steady as you said, “Okay. We’ll talk soon.”

You hung up, your finger lingering on the screen before finally setting the phone down. It felt like everything was spiraling again. A part of you wanted to stay angry. You wanted to keep your distance. But another part, the part that still loved him just wanted peace. And that made everything feel even more confusing.

But in the end, no matter what you told yourself, you still didn’t know what you wanted.

Seungmin’s arrival that morning had an almost surreal quality to it, as if the events of the past few weeks hadn’t happened at all. The door swung open with a soft creak, and before you could even react, Roan’s excited voice echoed through the hallway, “Dad!”

Your son came running, his small feet slapping against the hardwood floors, his eyes wide with disbelief and joy. He didn’t know Seungmin was coming, and when your father opened the door, Roan practically flew into Seungmin’s arms, as though no time had passed at all.

Seungmin caught him easily, pulling him in close, his face breaking into that familiar, soft smile that always seemed to melt away the stress of the day. Roan wrapped his little arms around Seungmin’s neck, pressing his face into his father’s shoulder. You could see the emotion in Seungmin’s eyes, how much he’d missed Roan. And despite the anger, the hurt, the chaos swirling in your own chest, you couldn’t deny it. Seungmin loved Roan. That was undeniable.

Your chest tightened as you watched the tender moment unfold. It hurt. It hurt in ways you couldn’t put into words. You had been through so much so much that you weren’t even sure if there was any way back to where you once were. But Roan was always at the heart of it, wasn’t he? He deserved this, to have his father in his life, to feel that love, even if everything between you and Seungmin had become so fractured.

Your mom greeted Seungmin with an excited smile, giving him a quick hug. Your dad followed suit, a warm handshake followed by a slap on the back, as if this was just another visit, another day when nothing had changed. As though everything was still fine.

Then, Seungmin turned to you.

For a moment, there was hesitation in his eyes. You could see him searching your face, trying to gauge your reaction. And then, without a word, he pulled you into a hug. You didn’t pull away. It wasn’t that you wanted him to hold you, but the guilt of pushing him away in front of your parents weighed on you. You didn’t want to make a scene not now, not in front of them.

So you held him back. Just for a second. It was stiff, forced, but you allowed the hug. He kissed your temple softly, his lips lingering for a moment longer than they should have, and you felt the old ache stir in your chest, the one that had never truly faded.

But that wasn’t enough to erase the anger and betrayal. Not by a long shot.

By the time the evening came, you were exhausted, mentally, emotionally. Roan was finally in bed, tucked in with his favorite stuffed animal, and your parents had gone out for a wine night with some of their old friends. The house felt quieter now, the calm before the storm.

Seungmin and you were left alone, with nothing but the thick, unsettled air hanging between you. You sat in the living room, the TV playing softly in the background, but you couldn’t focus on anything. Not the shows, not the quiet hum of the house. All you could focus on was him. Seungmin.

He reached for your hand, the gesture slow, almost tentative, as if he wasn’t sure if you would pull away. But you didn’t. You let him take your hand, and when he pulled it gently to his lap, he reached into his pocket and pulled out something that made your heart drop.

The wedding ring. The one you had left at home, the one you hadn’t worn since the night you packed your things and left.

“Seungmin, no,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

But he ignored your words and carefully slid it onto your finger. You stared at the ring, feeling the cold metal settle into place, and it was like your entire past came rushing back at once the promises, the dreams, the life you thought you’d built together.

You tried to pull your hand away, but he held it there, not roughly, but firmly. You didn’t want to wear it. You didn’t want to be reminded of everything you were still struggling to let go of. But his grip softened as he looked up at you, his expression raw.

“Please don’t take it off,” he said quietly. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”

You swallowed hard, the anger rising in your chest, but you fought to keep it at bay. “What does that even mean, Seungmin?” Your voice cracked slightly. “What does ‘making things right’ look like? Because right now, just looking at you makes me angry. Every time I look at you, I see her. I hear her name in my head, and it makes me sick.”

Seungmin’s eyes softened, his hand shifting to lift your chin, gently but firmly, so you had to meet his gaze. He didn’t let go of your hand, the warmth of his palm grounding you in a way that felt so intimate, so familiar.

“Look at me,” he said softly, almost a whisper. “Really look at me.”

You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to give him that. But you did. You looked into his eyes, and for a moment, you saw the man you used to love. The one who had stood by you when everything seemed impossible. The one who had held you when you cried, the one who promised you forever.

His thumb gently brushed away a stray tear that had fallen down your cheek, and he took a deep breath. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. I hurt Roan. But please, don’t shut me out completely. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done.”

The words were like a balm to a wound that had never fully healed. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that he could fix everything, that the man in front of you wasn’t the same one who had betrayed you.

But then, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours softly. It was gentle at first, the kind of kiss that spoke more of longing than of passion. But it lingered. And it hurt. You hadn’t realized how badly you missed his touch until you felt it again. The warmth of him, the closeness you hadn’t had in so long.

Your heart pounded, conflicting emotions swirling inside you. You wanted to pull away, to stop the kiss, to remind him of the pain he’d caused, but something held you there. Something you couldn’t quite define.

When the kiss ended, he didn’t pull away right away. His forehead rested against yours, and his voice was barely above a whisper.

“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Just please... don’t walk away from me completely.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. Everything in your body screamed that you couldn’t forgive him, that you couldn’t go back to the way things were. But another part of you, one that still ached for the life you once had with him, wanted so desperately to believe that you could make it work.

But you didn’t know if you could.

“I don’t know what to do, Seungmin,” you said quietly, your voice shaking. “I don’t know if we can fix this. I’m so tired of being hurt by you. I don’t know if I can forget.”

Seungmin didn’t pull away, didn’t argue. He simply held you, his hands gentle on your shoulders, as if he was waiting for you to make the decision for both of you. He didn’t press. He didn’t beg. He just stayed there, waiting for you to decide.

And in that moment, you realized that you were at a crossroads. Your heart was torn between the life you had built and the possibility of something new, something that you weren’t sure you were ready for. You didn’t know if you could ever truly forgive Seungmin for what he’d done. But you didn’t know if you could keep running from him, either.

You pulled away slightly, looking up at him one last time before saying, “I need time, Seungmin. I need more time.”

He nodded, his face softening with understanding. "I’ll wait. As long as you need."

And you didn’t know how long that would be. But for the first time in months, you felt like you had time. Time to figure things out. Time to make the decisions you needed to make.

What came next was uncertain. But for the first time in a while, you felt like you had the space to breathe.

The night passed quietly, and despite Seungmin sleeping so close to you, it was a strange kind of tension that filled the space between you two. It wasn’t the same as it once was, the comfort you used to find in his presence. You both respected the silence and the space that now existed, and yet, there was a subtle tension that reminded you of everything that had happened the betrayals, the hurt, and the unresolved feelings. Seungmin didn’t try to hold you or pull you closer. He simply slept close, not intruding, but not exactly distant either. It was almost like a truce, a fragile attempt to bridge the gap between the two of you without truly addressing the distance that had grown in your relationship.

It was almost too quiet. The kind of quiet that made everything louder. Your thoughts. The memories. The pain.

You didn't sleep soundly, tossing and turning for hours as the weight of your emotions lingered. Every time your mind would start to settle, you’d remember something new, something you hadn't processed yet whether it was a memory of Seungmin before everything fell apart or the unexpected closeness you felt with Changbin, the one who made you feel like you could breathe again.

But you couldn’t let yourself think too much about Changbin. Not now. Not with Seungmin here, trying to make his way back into your life.

When you woke up, Seungmin was already downstairs, most likely with your parents or spending time with Roan. You were grateful for the space, the chance to take a breath without feeling the weight of him looming over you. You stretched, trying to push back the thoughts that wanted to swarm, but it wasn’t easy. You needed to talk to someone. You needed to hear a familiar voice.

The buzz of your phone broke your concentration, and when you saw Changbin’s name flashing on the screen, your heart gave a little flutter. You hesitated for just a second before answering.

"Hello?" You tried to sound normal, though there was an unspoken layer of tension hanging in your words.

Changbin's voice came through the speaker, warm and comforting as always. "Hey, you up? You wanna do something today?" He sounded casual, like he was just checking in, but there was a slight edge of anticipation that made you pause.

For a brief moment, you felt a flutter of hope, a momentary feeling that you could escape everything that was happening in your life just by being with him. But then reality hit. Seungmin was here.

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of the situation. "Seungmin's actually here. He arrived yesterday morning," you said, trying to keep it light, though you could feel the disappointment creeping into your voice.

There was a long pause on the other end. Changbin’s usual upbeat tone faded, replaced by a soft hum. The sound of disappointment was subtle, but it was there. "Ah," he said, his voice quieter than usual. "I see."

You knew he wasn’t thrilled about the situation. Changbin had been there for you in ways Seungmin hadn’t been in months. But still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that telling Changbin about Seungmin’s sudden reappearance would change things between you two. You didn’t want to push him away.

You quickly tried to change the subject, to salvage what was left of the conversation. "You know, Yuna mentioned wanting to go dress shopping with me recently. I promised her I’d go. And maybe you could hang out with Roan, do some boy stuff together while Yuna and I do that. I’m sure he’d love that."

But before you could say anything more, Changbin cut you off, the disappointment heavy in his voice. "Actually, I just remembered I have something come up. I... I gotta go." His tone had shifted, and you could tell he was trying to keep his words neutral, but there was a tightness there that wasn’t normal for him.

You blinked, feeling a pang of confusion and hurt in your chest. "Oh," was all you could say. You had been expecting something different, perhaps a little more understanding or at least some reassurance that it was okay. But that wasn’t what you got.

"Yeah, sorry. I gotta go," he said, and before you could respond, the line went quiet. The call ended abruptly, leaving you holding your phone in the middle of your room, feeling strangely abandoned.

You stared at the screen for a moment, your heart sinking. That was... different. Changbin had never ended a conversation like that before. He’d always been patient, always made sure you had the last word, always seemed so willing to spend time with you no matter what was going on. But today was different.

You sat down on the edge of your bed, replaying the conversation in your head. Was it something you’d said? Something you hadn’t said? The disappointment in his voice had been unmistakable, and the suddenness of his departure from the conversation stung more than you cared to admit.

Maybe he was just trying to give you space, he knew Seungmin was around, and maybe he didn’t want to make things more complicated. But the sudden shift in tone made you wonder if there was more to it, something you weren’t seeing.

You didn’t know what to make of it. You had spent the last few weeks leaning on Changbin, allowing yourself to laugh, to forget for a moment about all the hurt surrounding you. He had become this unexpected source of warmth, a reminder that not everything in your life was broken. But now, his abrupt departure from the conversation left you questioning where you stood with him, too.

You shook your head, trying to clear your mind. You couldn’t focus on this now. You had too many other things going on. Too many things to figure out.

But as you got up and walked toward the door, heading down to join Seungmin and your parents, the weight of the conversation lingered in the back of your mind. Something had shifted with Changbin, and you weren’t sure if it was something you could fix.

Changbin had been in denial for weeks, pushing down his feelings as best as he could. At first, it had been easier, he told himself that what he was feeling toward you was just sympathy, maybe a lingering sense of care for someone he had always been close to. After all, you and Seungmin were married, and despite everything that had gone wrong between you two, he couldn’t have possibly seen you as anything more than a friend. His heart had already been through too much, and he didn’t think he was ready for anything more.

But then, the last time he saw you, something shifted. He had been watching you laugh, the sound so familiar and comforting, yet different in a way. It wasn’t like before, there was more lightness, more joy in your voice than he had heard in years. The way you had made him laugh, teasing him like you used to back in school, brought back a flood of memories. You were the same person he had once been hopelessly in love with, but time had changed both of you.

That was when he realized it. He had feelings for you again. And not just a little crush either, but something deeper. Something that terrified him.

It had been the first time in years that he allowed himself to feel something for someone other than Sua. His wife, Sua, who had passed away two years ago, and after her death, Changbin had completely shut himself off from the possibility of loving anyone else. He had convinced himself that he would never be able to love anyone like he loved her. That maybe the kind of love he shared with her was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. He had grieved deeply, and his heart had healed in its own time, but the scars were still there. He wasn’t sure if he could open up to someone new without betraying the love he had for Sua.

But then there was you, someone he had known intimately in a past life, someone who had been with him through his teenage years. He had seen you go through so much Seungmin’s betrayal, your struggles, the hurt that still haunted you. He wanted to be there for you in a way he hadn’t been before, but somewhere along the way, the friendship turned into something more.

When you had called him earlier that morning and mentioned Seungmin, it hit him harder than he expected. A tight knot twisted in his stomach. He tried to keep his voice neutral, but inside, something dark stirred a mix of frustration, jealousy, and fear. The thought of you still being so close to Seungmin, still entangled in your past, ignited a deep sense of possessiveness. He had told himself it wasn’t his place to feel this way, but hearing Seungmin’s name, Seungmin, the man who had hurt you, the man who had been the reason for so much of your pain felt like a slap to his chest.

He had been so careful, keeping his feelings to himself, pushing the idea of a future with you aside, but hearing that Seungmin was there, staying with you… it felt like a betrayal, even though he knew it wasn’t. You and Seungmin shared history, a history that Changbin wasn’t a part of, no matter how much he wanted to be. It made him feel small, like an outsider who didn’t belong in the picture anymore.

The moment you mentioned Seungmin’s arrival, Changbin’s chest tightened. He couldn’t keep the disappointment from leaking into his voice. “Ah, I see,” he said, his words soft, almost like he was trying to mask the hurt he was feeling. He had told himself over and over that he wasn’t entitled to your time, that you had every right to make your own decisions, but hearing you talk about Seungmin made him feel like he was losing you, even if you weren’t technically his. It wasn’t just that he was jealous, it was the painful reminder that Seungmin had been your past, and no matter what Changbin felt, he would always be a part of your story.

When you tried to salvage the conversation, suggesting you could still hang out later, Changbin’s mind raced. But the thought of spending the day with you while Seungmin was around felt wrong. It wasn’t just the jealousy, it was the fear that maybe he was too late. Maybe you had already moved on, maybe you still needed Seungmin. And what was he supposed to do with that? He couldn’t compete him, no matter how much he wanted to.

And then, when you mentioned your plans with Yuna, the disappointment hit again. Changbin felt this sharp pang in his chest, this deep sense of frustration with himself. He had been so certain that today could be the day when things felt different, when he could spend time with you, laugh with you, maybe even though he hated to admit it, confess to you how he felt. But now, everything felt out of reach. He couldn’t get a clear moment with you without Seungmin standing in the background, hovering over everything. It was suffocating.

“Actually, I just remembered I have something come up,” he said quickly, almost like he was trying to justify his decision to pull away. He didn’t want to hear himself say it, but the words came out anyway. “I gotta go.”

He hung up before you could say anything else. He didn’t want to hear your voice in that moment, didn’t want to hear you try to make it better. The truth was, he was afraid. Afraid that his feelings for you would never be returned, and that all he was doing was hurting both of you by being around. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with his emotions, and he didn’t know how to even start a conversation about it without ruining everything.

He paced around his apartment, trying to calm himself down. The jealousy, the confusion, it all spiraled. He didn’t want to lose you. He didn’t want to be the guy who stood by and watched while someone else had your heart, but at the same time, he couldn’t push you too hard. You needed space. You were still navigating the wreckage of your marriage, and he wasn’t going to be the one to force you into something you weren’t ready for.

But the thing about Changbin was that he’d always been one to act on impulse, to dive headfirst into the things he cared about. And despite all his fears, he knew one thing for sure, he couldn’t just walk away from you now. The feelings he had were real, and they weren’t going away.

That night, as he sat in his apartment, he stared at his phone for a long time, wondering if he should call you back, wondering if there was any chance for the two of you. He had never been this uncertain before, his heart and his mind at war with each other. What would he do next? Would he try again to be a part of your life, even if Seungmin was there?

He didn’t know, but he knew one thing, he wasn’t ready to let go of you. Not yet.

Seungmin was never the type to make grand gestures. He wasn’t the kind of man to chase after someone or beg for forgiveness with tearful eyes and flowery words. He had always been pragmatic, calm, and a little reserved when it came to matters of the heart. But this, this was different. The reality of the situation, the hurt he had caused you, had cracked something inside him that he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just about him wanting to fix things for himself anymore. He wanted to fix things for you, for your family, for Roan.

When he arrived back at your parents’ house that morning, a part of him still felt like he was walking on eggshells. His chest had tightened as soon as he saw you, the discomfort in your eyes unmistakable, but what hit him the hardest was the cold distance between the two of you. That had been a wall he had built himself, and now that it was there, he wasn’t sure how to break it down.

But he was trying.

He had to try.

Over the past few weeks, after you left and he stayed in your once shared home, Seungmin had spent sleepless nights replaying everything in his head. The mistakes. The lies. The things he had told himself to justify his actions. The distance between you two, even after everything he did, had never felt so suffocating. It wasn’t just about being away from you, it was about the family he had broken. The life he had destroyed by being selfish.

The realization came when he woke up one morning, staring at the empty space next to him in bed, the weight of his choices bearing down on him. He had been too focused on his own needs and desires, too caught up in what he wanted in the moment, to see the bigger picture. He hadn’t seen how much it hurt you, how much it had affected Roan.

For weeks, Seungmin had convinced himself that you just needed time. That, eventually, you would come around, that the time apart would heal things. But that realization was a punch to the gut. He had to do something, something more than just waiting around and hoping you’d forgive him. He had to show you that he was willing to change, that he was ready to be the man you needed, not just the one he thought you needed.

That’s when he made the decision to come back.

When he knocked on your parents' door and saw Roan running toward him with his arms wide open, his heart cracked a little bit. Roan’s warm embrace, his innocent excitement to see his dad, felt like a slap in the face to Seungmin. He had been so lost in his own guilt, his own shame, that he had almost forgotten about what truly mattered the love his son had for him, the unspoken bond they shared.

Seungmin needed to do right by that.

He smiled as he held Roan tight, but the smile quickly faded as he looked at you. There you were, standing in the background, watching him closely. You looked… different. Stronger, perhaps. But there was still a tenderness in your eyes, an old familiarity that made his heart ache.

He greeted your parents, tried to appear casual, as though he hadn’t just barged back into your life after everything that happened. Your mom greeted him warmly, but there was a trace of hesitation in her eyes. Your dad shook his hand, but there was no attempt to hide the discomfort in his stance. They both said all the right things, but the underlying tension in the air was palpable.

Later that evening, when Roan had gone to bed and your parents had left to visit some friends, Seungmin took his chance. He wasn’t going to let this moment slip by.

He sat down next to you, the air thick with the words left unspoken between the two of you. He reached for your hand, hesitating for a moment before gently brushing your fingers with his.

"I’ve made so many mistakes," he said, his voice quieter than usual, but full of sincerity. "I know I’ve hurt you, and I don’t expect you to forgive me just like that. I just… I need you to know that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this right. I can’t lose you, and I can’t lose Roan."

You didn’t pull away when he touched your hand, but you didn’t move closer either. You sat there, silent, processing his words. The wedding ring he had brought with him glinted in the light, and he slid it onto your finger gently, as though asking permission without asking for it.

You stared at it, not sure what to do. The weight of it, the weight of everything between you two, felt so heavy. Seungmin’s eyes searched yours, almost pleading, and for a moment, you almost wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that he could be the man he promised to be. That he could make things right for Roan. For your family.

But there was still that sharp, raw pain at the center of it all. You still couldn’t erase the image of him with her, the betrayal, the lies. The way he had moved on so easily, as though nothing had ever been wrong between you two.

And still, you didn’t push him away. Maybe because you weren’t sure if you were ready to either accept or deny what he was offering. You didn’t know what the next step would be, but in that moment, you felt an old piece of your heart, the part that had loved Seungmin fiercely, that had trusted him with everything you had, start to stir again.

“I don’t know how to do this anymore,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you spoke the truth that had been buried for so long. “I don’t know how to be with you, Seungmin. I don’t know if we can go back to what we had before.”

His hand remained in yours, warm and gentle. “I’m not asking for everything to go back to the way it was,” he said, his thumb running along your knuckles. “I just want a chance. A real chance to show you that I can be the man you need me to be. The man I should have been all along.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes, the same vulnerability that he had hidden for so long. Maybe you could believe him. Maybe, in time, he would prove that he meant every word.

But then, just as quickly as the hope flickered in your chest, doubt filled its place again. Could you let go of everything, everything he had put you through and trust him again?

And just like that, with everything weighing heavily on both of you, Seungmin leaned in. His lips brushed against your forehead first, soft and tender, before he gently kissed your lips.

It wasn’t a passionate kiss, nor was it full of desire. It was a kiss filled with longing and regret, one that carried with it all the unspoken promises that had been left unsaid for too long.

And in that moment, you realized that things weren’t going to be easy. There would be days where you’d feel confused, where you’d question what the right thing to do was. But for now, you allowed yourself to believe that, maybe, just maybe Seungmin was doing everything he could to make things right.

But would it be enough?

Changbin had been a storm of conflicting emotions ever since he heard that Seungmin was back in the picture. At first, he had tried to brush it off, to keep his distance from you so he wouldn’t get too attached, especially when things between you and Seungmin were still so unresolved. But there was something in the way your voice had faltered when you talked about him, something that made Changbin wonder if you were letting yourself slip back into a relationship that had caused you so much pain. He hated the idea of it. He hated how your pain seemed to disappear whenever Seungmin was around, even though deep down, Changbin knew it wasn’t that simple.

Still, he’d kept his distance. He convinced himself it was for the best, he couldn’t risk being the guy who made things messier for you, who stood in the way of your family’s attempts to piece itself back together. But seeing you so quietly accepting of Seungmin’s return, even when you were still hurting, made something inside him twist uncomfortably.

Why should you let him back in so easily? Changbin thought. After everything he did, after all the lies, after hurting you so badly, why let him waltz back into your life like it was nothing?

It wasn’t just about Seungmin’s return, it was about the way he felt for you. The way he couldn’t stop thinking about you when you laughed, when you smiled, when you’d pick up little things for Yuna and Roan, your soft touch, the quiet moments that seemed to stitch the fractured pieces of his heart back together. It was about the tenderness he had developed for you over the past few weeks, the moments when you’d sit together, letting go of the world around you. And it was all crumbling now, slipping through his fingers, because of that damn wedding ring.

Changbin didn’t know why it stung so much, but when he saw it sitting on your finger as you adjusted your hair that morning, it felt like his chest was being crushed in a vice.

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes focused on the ring, the ring he hadn’t seen on your finger yet not even when he reconnected with you. The one that symbolized all the promises you had made to Seungmin, the life you had shared, the family you had created together. It was still there. And it hurt. It hurt to know that no matter how close he got to you, no matter how much time he spent trying to help you heal from the pain Seungmin had caused, he wasn’t the one who held that promise.

For a brief moment, Changbin had considered walking away pretending he didn’t care, pretending he wasn’t feeling the suffocating weight of his own jealousy. But the truth was, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t lie to himself. He couldn’t act like the wound in his chest wasn’t there.

You’d been through so much already, and here he was, having a hard time even standing near you when the man who had hurt you so badly was back, effortlessly sliding back into your life. That wedding ring felt like an anchor, dragging him down into a pit of confusion and self-doubt.

When you approached him, he forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He turned slightly, making sure to keep his distance, pretending that he wasn’t affected.

“Hey,” you said, a little hesitantly. “Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you since… well, since that phone call.”

Changbin gave a tight-lipped smile, his mind racing. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just been busy, y’know.” He shrugged, trying to make it seem casual. He tried to avoid looking at your hand, but his gaze betrayed him. There it was again, the wedding ring.

He felt his throat tighten.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” you continued, oblivious to the storm brewing inside him. “Are you up for doing something soon? You know. I promised Yuna I’d take her shopping for dresses. Roan’s been telling me that she’s been talking about it nonstop.”

Changbin nodded automatically. He had no intention of ignoring you. It wasn’t that. He just needed to sort through this mess in his mind first. “Yeah, that sounds great,” he said, though his voice felt distant, not quite as bright as it usually did.

You fixed your hair absentmindedly, and that’s when he saw it again, the ring. The diamond glinting faintly in the morning sun, making it hard for him to focus on anything else. That damn ring.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at it, fighting the overwhelming urge to rip it off your finger, to scream at you for not protecting yourself, for not protecting your heart. He had no right to be angry. He knew that. But his chest was tight with something he couldn’t name, something that felt dangerously close to resentment.

You looked up at him and noticed the way his expression had shifted, a flash of something unreadable in his eyes.

“Changbin?” you said softly, stepping closer to him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He clenched his jaw and nodded, refusing to let his emotions spill out. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

Your smile faltered slightly, and you looked at him with concern. He could see it in your eyes, the curiosity, the worry. You weren’t buying it. But he didn’t know how to explain it to you, not without sounding petty and selfish. Not without admitting how much it hurt to see you wearing that ring.

So he did what he always did when things got too complicated, he turned away. He kept his distance.

“I’ve gotta get going,” he said quickly. “But, uh… yeah. I’ll talk to you later.”

Without waiting for a response, Changbin quickly turned on his heel and headed in the opposite direction. He had to get away from you. He had to process this. Because if he didn’t, he might do something he’d regret. Something that would only make everything worse.

He didn’t want to lose you again, not to Seungmin, not to anyone. But he wasn’t sure if he could keep pretending that he was okay with standing in the shadow of a wedding ring that wasn’t his.

Seungmin’s return to your life had been, at best, confusing. But if you were being honest with yourself, you couldn't help but notice the effort he was putting in, even if it didn’t erase the hurt, the betrayal, or the cracks that ran deep. He was trying, and for the first time in a while, it wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t about his comfort or his needs, it was about you, about us, or at least, the remnants of what that was supposed to be.

It wasn’t like it was perfect, far from it. But Seungmin seemed to be realizing, bit by bit, that just saying he was sorry wasn’t going to be enough. He couldn’t just expect you to forgive him, and, for the first time, he was showing that he understood that. That realization, that effort, was enough to keep you tethered to the idea of trying, of giving him a second chance, or even just the space to prove that he was different now.

At first, it felt like he was just trying to go through the motions, just doing what he thought he needed to do to win you back. He brought you coffee in the morning, remembering your exact order, just like he used to. He'd offer little, thoughtful gestures like picking up your favorite snacks from the grocery store or asking if you needed help with anything when he knew you had a busy day ahead. It was almost like he was trying to show you that he could still be the person you had once relied on.

But there were other moments, more subtle ones, where you saw a shift. He’d try to engage in conversations with Roan, or ask if you needed help with something around the house, even if it was the last thing he wanted to do. He’d ask how you were feeling, not in a casual way, but with real concern like he genuinely cared. The way he’d look at you sometimes, with a mixture of apology and longing, made your heart twist.

You hadn’t seen that look in a long time.

It was in the little things too. Like how he started making sure you were included when he was talking about future plans, something he used to exclude you from. It was like he was starting to remember what it was like when you were a team, when everything wasn’t so fractured and distant. When he asked if you wanted to go out for lunch, he didn’t just suggest places that were convenient for him, he picked ones you’d always liked, places that held memories from when things were simpler between you two. He even asked if you wanted to go for a walk in the park, something you used to do when you first started dating.

And then, there were moments when he would genuinely listen, and not just for the sake of listening, but because he wanted to know how you felt, wanted to know if things were okay between the two of you. His eyes would soften when you spoke, like he was processing everything you said, really hearing it. He wasn’t rushing to make things better, or to jump in with excuses, he was just… present. It wasn’t like the Seungmin you had known, the one who’d always tried to fix things quickly with humor or with grand gestures. This version of him wasn’t rushing anything; he was just trying to make sure you knew that you were seen and that you were heard.

You had to admit, even though it made you uncomfortable at times, it made you feel something you hadn’t felt in a long while. It made you feel important again, like you were his priority. That was a feeling that used to come so naturally between you two, but over time, had eroded. The years of work, the growing distance between you two as his distractions took over, it was hard not to feel like an afterthought. But now, in the quieter moments, you could see that he was trying to change that.

There were also moments when he was more physically present. He didn’t just hover; he’d do small things, like picking up Roan from school, offering to help out around the house, or just making sure you didn’t feel alone. When the weather got cold, he’d wrap an extra scarf around your neck before you could even think to grab one, like the old Seungmin who had always worried about you getting sick. When Roan’s homework was difficult, he’d patiently sit beside him and explain it, not even looking at his phone as he usually did.

But the most telling sign was how he interacted with you. In the rare moments when it was just the two of you, when the house was quiet and Roan had gone to bed, Seungmin would sit across from you, his gaze lingering on you a little too long, almost like he was trying to read you. His smile was softer, less rushed, as if he was savoring the fact that you were still there. And for the first time in a while, you could see how much he wanted to make it right. He didn’t just want you back for himself, he wanted you back because he realized what you meant to him, what he’d been too blind to appreciate until now.

You didn’t know how you felt about him, not fully. There were still too many scars. Too many pieces of your heart that were still cracked, still raw. But, somehow, his small efforts, his attempts to rebuild trust were making it difficult for you to completely shut him out. It wasn’t the same. It was never going to be the same. But for the first time, you saw a glimmer of hope, a chance that he might truly be trying to be the man he had failed to be before.

Still, the confusion lingered. How could you forgive him for everything? How could you let go of the pain, the betrayal, when the memories of everything he’d put you through were still so fresh in your mind?

But as Seungmin held Roan close, as he cared for you in the way he knew how, as he showed you, not just told you that he was trying, the doubt started to fade a little. Maybe it was a beginning. Maybe, with time, this could work. Or maybe you were just allowing yourself to hope for something that couldn’t be fixed. It was too soon to know.

But you couldn’t deny that, for the first time in months, you were allowing yourself to consider the possibility of forgiveness. Not for him, necessarily, but for you. Because at the end of the day, it wasn’t just about whether Seungmin deserved it. It was about whether you deserved to heal.

When you heard the buzz of your phone, your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t like you had been expecting to hear from him. After all, the last time you spoke, things had been… well, different. Awkward. You weren’t sure where things stood anymore. And yet, when you saw Changbin’s name on the screen, your thumb moved before your brain could process what was happening. You picked up the phone, trying to mask your nervousness with an air of indifference. It wasn’t easy, but you tried. You didn’t want him to know how much his voice affected you, how it had always affected you.

"Hey," you answered, trying to keep your tone casual, even though you were anything but.

He greeted you warmly, his voice sounding as comforting as it always did, but there was an undercurrent of something you couldn’t place. “How have you been?” he asked, his words soft but genuine.

You paused, thinking about your answer. You could lie and say you were fine, but was that really fair to either of you? Instead, you settled for, “I’m okay.” It wasn’t the truth, not entirely, but it was the answer that didn’t invite too many questions.

“How’s Roan?” Changbin asked next, his voice filled with the same warmth. You could hear the concern in it, and it made your chest tighten a little.

“He’s good, keeping busy with school and his friends.” You didn’t elaborate on the way Roan had been dealing with things, the times he’d asked about his dad or when he talked about how much he missed things being ‘normal.’ You didn’t want to bring any of that up now, not when the conversation was so casual.

“That's good," Changbin said. You could feel a slight pause, like he was taking a deep breath before continuing. “Yuna misses you, you know. She says she only gets to see you at pick-up nowadays. She’s been asking if you and Roan could hang out more, maybe have another playdate. She misses hanging out with you.”

The mention of Yuna made a lump form in your throat. You did miss her, miss the simplicity of the moments you’d shared, before everything had become so complicated. Before life had gotten in the way of your friendship.

You smiled, genuinely, as you thought of the little girl who’d stolen your heart in the most unexpected way. “I miss her too,” you said, and you meant it. “And I miss you, Changbin. It’s been a while.”

You heard a soft sigh from the other end of the phone, and it sounded so much like a mixture of relief and longing that it made your stomach flutter in a way you weren’t prepared for. He didn’t respond right away, but you could tell something was weighing on his mind. He seemed hesitant to speak, and that only made you more curious.

“I wasn’t gonna call,” Changbin said suddenly, his voice a little quieter, almost like he was trying to hide something. “But Yuna’s been talking about you a lot, and I guess I miss seeing you guys too. It just... it’s been a while, and I know things have been... complicated, with everything.” There was that weight again, that familiar heaviness in his tone, like he was trying to tread lightly but couldn't hide the depth of his feelings.

The words “complicated with everything” hit you harder than you expected. That phrase alone summed up everything you’d been going through. It felt like a lifetime ago when everything had been simple between you, Changbin, and your little world. And now? Now it was all a tangled mess of emotions, regrets, and… choices.

“I know, I know…” you started, but you didn’t really know what to say after that. You wanted to explain the mess that had become your life since Seungmin came back, but what good would it do? Changbin didn’t need the details.

But he wasn’t letting the silence settle between you two. His voice came back, a little more hesitant this time, like he was trying to figure out how to phrase what was on his mind.

“Well, I don’t know if you’re busy with Seungmin or what,” Changbin said before trailing off. The mention of Seungmin hit you harder than it should have, and you could hear it in his voice, the quiet edge of jealousy that he hadn’t quite been able to suppress. You knew what he meant, what he was trying to ask without saying it outright. Were you back with Seungmin?

You frowned, your mind suddenly racing. You didn’t understand why he would even bring Seungmin up now, after everything. You had mentioned to Changbin that you and Seungmin were working through things, that you were trying to find some kind of stability for Roan, but it felt like that wasn’t what Changbin needed to hear. It was like he was looking for something different something more, something you weren’t sure you could give him.

Before you could say anything, Changbin continued, his voice awkward and strained, “I didn’t mean to bring up Seungmin like that... It just slipped out. What I meant was, if you’re not too busy, if you have time, maybe you, Roan, and Yuna could hang out with me sometime soon. I—uh, I miss spending time with you, with all of you.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. The words "I miss spending time with you" felt like a punch to the gut. You hadn’t realized just how much you’d missed him, how much he had come to mean to you, until that very moment.

But still, the whole situation felt too complicated. He was asking you to hang out like it was the simplest thing in the world, but for you, it wasn’t simple. Not when you were trying to sort out your life, your feelings, and your priorities. You couldn’t just pretend everything was fine. It wasn’t.

“I’m not sure when, Changbin,” you said slowly, carefully, “but I promise I’ll try to find time. I think Yuna deserves that.”

He didn’t push you. There was a quiet pause before he let out a breath, something between frustration and relief. “Yeah, of course,” he said softly. “I get it. Just... just let me know when you’re free.”

You wanted to tell him you were sorry for not making things easier, for making everything more difficult than it needed to be, but you didn’t. There was no room for apologies, not yet. You weren’t sure if it would make anything better.

The conversation slowly came to an end, neither of you saying what was really on your mind. You hung up, staring at the phone in your hand, thoughts swirling. There was so much you wanted to say to Changbin, so much you needed to figure out before you could even think about doing anything with him anything more than friendship, at least.

But right now, all you could do was try to make sense of the messy feelings, the confusion, and the painful truth: you were still so drawn to Changbin. Even if you didn’t know exactly what that meant for your future, you couldn’t deny the pull. It was always there, lingering just beneath the surface.

And as you sat there, still holding your phone, your mind wandered back to the time when things had been simpler. To when you and Changbin had been on the same page, before everything had gotten so complicated. You didn’t know what would happen next, but you knew one thing for sure: this, whatever it was, was far from over.

Changbin felt a momentary calm settle over him after hanging up the phone with you. Hearing your voice again, even if it was through the filter of awkwardness and unresolved tension, gave him a small measure of peace. You hadn’t shut him out, and that was enough for now. It meant he hadn’t imagined it, those weeks you spent leaning on him, laughing with him, feeling like something was blooming between you. He told himself not to hope, but still… a part of him did.

He was lost in those very thoughts, his mind spinning around the images of you and Seungmin, the uncertainty of your feelings, the way you still wore your wedding ring until a familiar, bright voice jolted him back to the present.

“Daddy!”

Yuna’s sweet shriek of joy rang across the school courtyard as she ran toward him at full speed, her little backpack bouncing with each step. He immediately bent down, arms open, catching her as she leapt into him without hesitation. He lifted her with ease, settling her comfortably in his arms, her cheek pressed against his shoulder.

“Guess who I talked to today?” he said, voice teasing and light as he tried to push away the heaviness that had returned to sit in his chest.

Yuna pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes wide with excitement. “Y/N?” she guessed with a hopeful grin.

He smiled and nodded. “Bingo.”

Yuna let out a high-pitched squeal and kicked her legs in the air with excitement. “I knew it! I told Roan you would talk to her. I told him,” she said with pride, like she had willed the conversation into existence. “Does this mean we can go shopping now? She promised.”

He chuckled softly and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I think we’ll make it happen soon.”

Her face lit up again, and she leaned her head back on his shoulder as he began walking toward the car, his grip on her secure and comforting.

As they made their way through the parking lot, Yuna started chattering about her day, what snack her teacher gave them, how she and Roan played tag at recess, and how Roan had reminded her to not forget about his birthday party this weekend.

Changbin blinked.

The party.

Of course. Roan’s birthday. This weekend.

Yuna’s voice became background noise then, not because he didn’t want to hear her, but because all he could focus on was the sudden realization that he would have to see you again. Not just for a brief moment at pick-up or drop-off. Not a quiet phone call. But see you.

Be around you.

Be around you… and Seungmin.

His chest tightened with that familiar bitter ache, jealousy rising in his throat like bile. It wasn’t fair not to Roan, not to Yuna, not to you, but he couldn’t help it. The idea of standing there, in your parents' home, watching you and Seungmin smile and act like a family again, felt unbearable.

He would have to watch Roan call him “Dad.” He would have to hear your parents praise him. Watch Seungmin touch your back gently or say something to make you smile, and pretend it didn’t make him sick.

Because Changbin wasn’t just jealous of Seungmin having you. He was angry. Angry that he had broken you in such a cruel way cheated, betrayed, and somehow still got to come back into your life like a ghost demanding space.

And yet… you’d let him back in. Even if you hadn’t fully forgiven him, you’d opened the door.

That was the part that crushed Changbin the most.

He shifted Yuna a little higher in his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead to ground himself. Her little hand wrapped around his thumb.

“You okay, Daddy?” she asked softly, peering up at him with curiosity.

He blinked down at her and nodded, pasting a smile on his face. “Yeah, baby. Just thinking.”

“Are we still going to Roan’s party?” she asked, and he nodded again. He couldn’t say no, not when her eyes looked so hopeful. Not when she was so happy at the thought of seeing you again.

“Of course,” he said, his voice low and steady despite the storm inside. “We wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

But as they reached the car and he buckled her in, his mind wandered again to the party, to you, to the way your smile lingered in his mind even when he tried to push it away.

He was happy to see you again.

He dreaded it too.

Because loving someone who’s trying to fall back in love with someone else? That kind of pain was the slow kind. Quiet. Hidden. And it burned like nothing else.

Still, Changbin would go. He’d smile, for Yuna. For Roan. Even for you.

And he’d pretend the ring on your finger didn’t feel like the door shutting in his face.

masterlist.

(a/n: who else is #TeamSeungmin 🖐️)

❌proofread

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kisses4rafey · 2 days ago

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older!rafe catches you smoking

the sun had barely started to dip, your legs stretched out on the back porch of the beach house, a blunt lazily burning between your fingers. you weren’t even high yet—just chasing that first hit, exhaling slow like the smoke might carry your thoughts somewhere less heavy. you didn’t hear the truck until it was too late.

the screen door creaked. “seriously?”— you froze.

there he was towering in the doorway like some storm cloud in a black t-shirt and salt-worn jeans. his eyes narrowed immediately, jaw tight like he’d been biting his tongue all day and just ran out of patience. “are you actually getting high right now?” he asked, stepping out. the blunt was still smoldering in your hand.

you went to flick it. too slow.

he was already in front of you, snatching it from your fingers like it was poison. “jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head. “you’re really pushing it.”

“it’s not a big deal,” you mumbled, refusing to look at him. and he fucking laughed—humorless. “not a big deal? you’re barely outta high school and you think burning weed on my porch when I’ve got neighbors two houses down who’d love to call your parents is just… casual?” you flinched. the word parents landed too hard. he knew it.

silence stretched between you like the heat coming off the deck boards. “i didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” you muttered.

“oh, that makes it better?” his voice rose, rough and cutting. “you think that makes me less pissed?”

“i’m not a kid—”

“you are a kid,” he snapped. “you’re a kid screwing around with stuff you don’t get to play with—not here, not around me.”

that one hurt. it wasn’t the weed. it was the distance in his voice. the shift. like he was suddenly drawing a line between you again—age, experience, risk. you tried to bite it down. “you’re the one who keeps saying I’m grown enough to be with you. so what is it, rafe? i’m old enough for your bed but too young to smoke a little?”

his jaw clenched. hard. like you’d slapped him.

he stepped closer—too close. you could smell the faint salt of the ocean on his skin, the underlying sting of whatever cologne he always wore when he was pretending not to care.

“you think this is funny?” he asked, voice low now. “you think I’m doing this because I want to control you?” you stared at him, defiant—but your chest was tight. “i don’t want to lose you,” he then proceeded to say in a softer tone. “not to dumb shit like this.”

“you’re not my dad,” you whispered. “you can’t tell me what i can and can’t do”

“no,” he said, still watching you like he was memorizing every expression. “i’m not. but i care about you more than he ever did.” you swallowed hard, throat tight. you hated how his anger cracked just enough to show you where the hurt lived underneath.

then he reached up—gently this time—and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “don’t make me the guy who lets you burn yourself out just to seem cool. i want more for you than that. you hear me?”

you rolled your eyes. “it’s weed, rafe. not heroin. jesus.”

he didn’t laugh.

“you wanna act grown? fine. then be grown enough to take care of yourself. don’t pull this shit and expect me to clean up after you if something goes sideways.”

you blinked. that hit harder than the weed ever could. “i wasn’t expecting anything from you,” you said, quieter now. “i just… i was anxious. and i thought I had time.”

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florihaei · 18 hours ago

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𝓗IS RULES .ᐟ ✦ - 박종성

𝑺𝑪𝑹𝑰𝑷𝑻 ✶ ─── he always gets what he wants even if it’s you .ᐟ

﹙ 4219 ﹚rich boy jay ! 𝓕em. reader — enemies too ..??, smut !, fingering, teasing, pet names, unprotected sex( please don’t do this!) ditry talk, pet names! 𝓑ookshelf ❜

꒰ 𝓜ail 💌- wow second smut, (im not the best so please forgive me!!) , please enjoy as always !

• ✉️ ~ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋ ɪs ɢʀᴇᴀᴛʟʏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ !

you hated him sometimes.

the way he looked at you like you belonged to him. the way he talked like he was never asking, just always talking. everything about jay screamed control.

he was the type who got everything he wanted. always had.

and tonight, what he wanted was you.

that was clear the second you got in his car, when he didn’t say a word, he just looked you over with a slow smug expression and leaned back against his seat.

his eyes dragged down your dress, your legs, your mouth.

he didn’t smile, he just tilted his head and said. “didn’t think you’d actually listen.”

you crossed your arms, shifting your weight.

“i didn’t do this for you.”

jay just laughed under his breath. he didn’t buy that shit for a second.

you were his. in his car, wearing the dress he told you to wear, acting like you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into.

“don’t lie baby.” his voice dropped a little as he leaned closer. “you always show up when it’s me.”

his place was too big.

one of those high rise penthouses overlooking the whole city, all black floors and dim lighting, leather and chrome and money in every corner. he tossed his keys down without looking, then turned to you like you were something he was already thinking about before you walked in.

“i should make you beg.”

you blinked. “for what?”

jay’s hand was already in your jaw, finger’s tilted, it was soft but firm.

“to cum.. to even touch you.”

he let his thumb rub over your bottom lip, his eyes fixed right there.

“you’ve been ignoring my texts. acting like i don’t own that pretty little body.”

you felt your stomach flip.

“you don’t..”

his smirk curved, slow and sharp. he leaned in his mouth brushing against your ear.

“then why’d you show up dripping wet in my car?”

jay wasn’t the type to undress you fast.

no he wanted to take his time with you.

“you look so pretty in this” he whispered, fingers dragging along the strap of your dress, pulling it down over your shoulder. “but you look better under me.”

you tired not to shiver, but his touch was already making you lose control. his hand slid between your thighs as he pushed you up against the glass. your breath caught the second he cupped you through your panties.

“mm” he hummed against your neck. “knew it.”

his fingers rubbed slow circles, lazy circles. “already so wet baby?, your all mine baby, right?”

you didn’t answer. you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

but he just grinned like he already knew, sliding two fingers beneath the lace and sinking his two fingers into your pussy without any warning.

you gasped, your knees wobbling.

“say it” he murmured, kissing just below your ear. “who’s pussy is this?”

your jaw clenched, you didn’t want to, you didn’t want to give him that.

but his fingers curled inside you just right, his palm grinding against your clit, and you couldn’t stop it.

“yours” you whispered. “fuck .. jay it’s yours.”

now he had you on his bed, legs spread, dress pulled up to your waist, and his hand between your thighs like he had all the time in the world. the more you whined, the slower he went. jay wanted to hear you cry for it, he wanted to watch you fall apart under his fingers before he ever got inside you.

“you’re close already?” he teased, lips ghosting over yours. “didn’t even fuck you yet.”

you tried to move your hips against his hand but he grabbed your thigh, pinning it down.

“don’t, i said i’d take care of you, so stay still and let me.”

he kept fingering you like that, slow and deep, his other hand on your jaw to keep you looking at him. your moans we’re getting louder, sloppier, but jay didn’t let up. he wanted to see you come undone on just his fingers.

“you’re gonna cum pretty girl?”

you nodded fast, eyes wide, mouth open.

“i-im .. jay- please i-im gonna-“

“yeah?” his thumb rubbed fast little circles on your clit. “then do it baby, cum for me, be good for me.”

and just like that, you shattered, your back arched, your thighs shaking as your orgasm hit like a wave. you clenched around his fingers hard, your cries echoing off the bedroom walls.

but jay didn’t stop. he kept going.

“too.. much jay-“

“no” he said, voice low and calm. “you can take it, your my good girl remember?”

you whimpered under your breath, body twitching as he dragged every last bit of pleasure out of you.

he finally pulled his fingers out as he sucked them clean off, eyes locked on you.

“look at that” he said, lips wet. “came so pretty for me.”

when he finally undressed, it was slow. on purpose, he unbuttoned his shirt like he had all night, he kicked his slacks off and crawled over to you, you felt like you were in a dream looking at him, toned chest, hair messy from pulling on it.

you looked up at him, flushed as you were still trying to catch your breath.

he smirked. “i told you i’d ruin you.”

you couldn’t even even talk. you just nodded, legs already spread for him

“you already know pretty.”

he lined himself up with your pussy as he dragged his tip along your folds.

“beg.”

“jay-“

“say please baby.”

you swallowed.

“please.. please fuck me.”

he didn’t make you wait.

with one deep push, he filled you up slowly, groaning low as he sank in all the way.

“shit.. so fucking tight” he breathed, rocking into you slow. “you were made for this.” 

you clutched his shoulders, nails digging in as he starts moving.

jay fucked you like he knew exactly how to break you, deep slow strokes that made your eyes roll back. every thrust hit you just right, his hips rolling against yours like he’d done this hundred times in his head already.

he gripped your throat lightly, not hard, just enough to make you look up at him.

“look at me.”

you did, barley. your lips were parted, moans slipping out between every thrust.

“don’t look away.” he said, snapping his hips harder. “you wanted this pretty remember?”

you nodded, saying his name over and over.

“say it.”

“I wanted this- i-i wanted you- fuck jay..”

“yeah” he growled. “i know you did baby.”

oh but jay wasn’t done yet, it got messy.

he flipped you over, as he fucked you from behind with one hand on your waist and the other tugging your hair back. you cried into the sheets, body shaking with ever thrust.

“you’re gonna cum again” he warned, his voice rough in your ear. “and you’re going to take it.”

you tired to shake your head.

“i can’t- jay.. i can’t.”

“yes you can, and you will.”

he reached down, rubbing your clit, and you broke all over again, loud and breathless, as your whole body shook under him.

jay didn’t stop until you went limp, legs trembling, mouth open like you couldn’t speak.

only then did he groan into your neck, fucking you through your orgasm until he finally came inside you with a rough curse and a low loan of your name.

you collapsed into the bed, hot and flushed, as your heard was racing.

jay leaned over you, pressing soft kisses down your spine, then to your shoulder.

“you’re mine.” he muttered, wrapping a arm around your waist.

you didn’t argue anymore. you couldn’t.

because you knew now, you were already his, and he didn’t need to ask.

73 notes · View notes

missmadella · 2 days ago

Text

Caught in the Fall (Chishiya x Reader)

Summary: “You shouldn’t have come back to my room.” - “You didn’t stop me.”

In the deadly chaos of Borderlands, trust is a luxury no one can afford—especially not with someone like Chishiya.

After barely escaping a brutal game, you find yourselves trapped in a crumbling building, forced to share a single threadbare blanket to survive the cold night.

What starts as necessity soon sparks something unexpected—secret kisses, quiet moments, and small acts of care breaking through the walls you’ve both built to survive

Words: 5925

You don’t even know how you ended up in this situation.

One moment you were both buried under a collapsing building, the next you’re cuddling with a person you swore never to be close with.

It wasn’t part of the plan.

Then again, nothing ever is in the Borderland.

The air inside the ruined structure is still thick with dust. Every breath feels like inhaling static—dry and bitter. Outside, the wind howls through the fractured walls, echoing against broken concrete and twisted rebar. The sky’s gone dark, not from nightfall but from the smoke and ash kicked up by the chaos.

And here you are—pressed shoulder to shoulder with him, under a scratchy emergency blanket salvaged from what’s left of a supply box. You’re both bruised and scraped up, the sharp sting of minor injuries flaring with every twitch. Blood crusts on your temple. You’re fairly sure something in your ankle isn’t right. But none of that compares to the surreal reality of being this close to Chishiya.

Shuntaro Chishiya, the infuriatingly brilliant man who rarely speaks unless he’s dissecting your every move. The man who plays games with people’s lives like he’s playing chess in his head. The one who always made it clear—he doesn’t do attachments. Doesn’t trust anyone. Certainly not you.

And yet... here he is. Lying beside you. Sharing body heat. Letting the silence stretch without breaking it.

You glance at him from the corner of your eye.

He’s on his side, facing the ceiling—or what's left of it. His silver hair is dusted with debris, and a thin trail of dried blood runs from the edge of his brow into his hairline. His arms are pulled close to his chest beneath the blanket, and you notice the way his fingers flex every so often, like he's testing for pain without making it obvious.

He’s trying to stay composed. Of course he is.

You shift slightly to ease the pressure on your side, and the movement draws his attention. His eyes slide toward you—calm, analytical, and yet... softer than usual.

He says nothing.

Neither do you.

For a moment, the world is just your breathing, his breathing, and the way the thin blanket does barely anything to keep out the cold seeping in from the broken floor beneath you.

"This wasn’t supposed to happen," you mutter, more to yourself than him.

He’s quiet for a second, then replies, voice low and even: "Neither was surviving that game."

A flicker of something passes through his expression—dry humor, maybe. Or fatigue. Or something he won’t name.

You huff a tired laugh through your nose. “That’s comforting.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” He shrugs slightly, and you feel the movement through the blanket. “You’re the one who insisted we go back for the injured players.”

You glance down. “And you didn’t stop me.”

“I was curious how far your altruism would get you.” A pause. “Apparently, buried.”

You shoot him a look. “And cuddled.”

He doesn’t smirk—doesn’t even blink. But the faintest crease touches the corner of his mouth. “Unavoidable,” he murmurs. “Unless you’d rather freeze to death.”

You want to say something sharp, something that puts distance between you again. But you don’t. Because the truth is, it is freezing. Your fingers are already numb, and the warmth of his body against yours is the only thing keeping your teeth from chattering.

Still, it’s not just the cold that’s getting to you anymore.

It’s this… strange comfort. This closeness. His heartbeat, steady and human beneath all the armor he wears.

You’ve never seen Chishiya like this—silent, still, not calculating his next move like everyone else is a pawn. Just… being.

And you can’t help but ask, quietly, “Why haven’t you moved away?”

Another beat of silence.

Then, without looking at you, he replies, almost too soft to hear:

"Because... you're warm."

It’s the kind of answer you expect from him. Evasive. Simplified. But underneath it—layered between every carefully chosen word—is something else.

Something real.

And for once, you don’t question it.

You just let the silence stretch again, this time not uncomfortable, not heavy. Just there.

Like him.

Beside you.

You shift slightly under the blanket, feeling the dull ache in your shoulder and the weight of exhaustion finally settling in your limbs. Chishiya is quiet beside you, not asleep but still. Calm in the way only he can manage after everything collapses—literally and otherwise.

The silence brings memories with it, uninvited but not unwelcome.

And before you know it, you’re remembering the first time you saw him.

___________________________________________________________________________

It started simple. Almost forgettable.

A Diamonds game in a dimly lit tower where trust and logic were pitted against each other in equal measure. You worked in silence, scanning patterns on the wall, sorting false clues from real ones. Most players panicked. Some shouted. A few cried.

He didn’t.

You spotted him across the room—silver hair like a slash of moonlight, hands casually tucked into his hoodie pocket as if this whole life-and-death puzzle was mildly annoying rather than terrifying.

He didn’t try to lead. Didn’t bark orders.

He just watched.

Not the game.

The people.

And then he looked at you.

Only for a second. But it was enough. His eyes flicked to where you’d already solved one of the riddles before he had, and for a moment—just a flicker—his mouth quirked upward in the smallest, subtlest twitch of recognition.

You didn’t smile back.

But you didn’t look away either.

___________________________________________________________________________

Days later, you were sitting alone on the floor of an abandoned metro station, legs stretched out, the sting of shrapnel embedded in your calf making your breath catch. You’d just barely escaped a Hearts game that left more bodies than survivors.

He walked in from the far end of the platform, dragging a half-empty backpack, silent as ever. He looked around once, then spotted you. Paused.

No words.

He pulled out a medical kit—clearly from a previous win—and tossed a roll of gauze toward you with a lazy flick of his fingers.

You caught it midair, confused.

Before you could ask, he just said, “I had extras.” Then walked past you like it meant nothing.

You almost let him go. But something inside you—something stubborn—made you dig into your pack the next day and leave a water bottle in his usual spot on the upper balcony of the observatory. You didn’t wait to see if he took it.

But the next time you were out of supplies, you found a protein bar on your bag when you returned from the restroom.

No note.

But you knew.

___________________________________________________________________________

The shift came in a Hearts game.

You were both unlucky enough to get pulled into it. The rules were convoluted—classic psychological manipulation. One player could sabotage the rest, and the only way to win was to figure out who before time ran out.

Everything went sideways.

A panicked player pulled a concealed knife after being accused. Everyone scattered. The room became chaos.

You saw it before Chishiya did—he was focused on decoding something on the wall, the glint of the blade catching your eye just in time. Without thinking, you lunged. Your hand hit his shoulder, and the two of you went down hard.

The blade caught your back. Not deep, but enough to burn.

The pain didn’t register until you saw blood soaking through your shirt. Chishiya blinked up at you, stunned—more by your action than the fall.

You remember the look on his face.

For once, the usual calm calculation was replaced by something else.

Something like disbelief.

He didn't say thank you. Didn't joke. Just tore a piece of his hoodie sleeve and pressed it to the wound, his hands steady even as his jaw clenched.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said eventually, voice low.

You laughed bitterly. “Neither did you—when you tossed me that gauze.”

He said nothing else.

But when the game ended, and the smoke cleared, he walked beside you the entire way back to the safe zone.

Didn’t ask. Didn’t offer.

He just did.

After that, you never questioned why he kept showing up.

Or why you didn’t mind.

___________________________________________________________________________

Now, lying beside him again, that memory feels closer than it should. You wonder if he’s thinking about it too.

His voice is barely above a whisper when he finally speaks.

“You remember that game?” he asks, like it’s an afterthought. But you can feel the tension in his voice, the careful way he phrases it—as if asking means something.

“The 7 of Hearts?” you ask, keeping your own tone neutral.

A slow nod. “Why did you push me?”

The question hangs in the air.

You swallow, heart ticking just a little faster, surprised he’s asking after all this time.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “Instinct, maybe. Or maybe I just didn’t want to deal with this place without at least one familiar face left in it.”

He hums softly, thoughtful.

Then, a beat later, his voice quieter:

“You could’ve died.”

You let out a breath. “So could you.”

There’s a pause.

Then you feel it—a small shift. His hand, resting between you both under the blanket, brushes against yours. Not intentional. Not overt.

But not accidental either.

You don’t say anything.

And he doesn’t move away.

___________________________________________________________________________

The hours stretch on. You're not sure how long you lie there, pressed against Chishiya beneath the thin blanket, but your body aches less from injury now and more from stillness. Your limbs are stiff. The air has only gotten colder, and you can see your breath in the pale morning light sneaking through the cracks of the broken ceiling.

Neither of you has spoken in a while.

But that’s never made you uncomfortable with him.

Eventually, Chishiya shifts beside you, slow and quiet. His breath hitches, like the movement strains something. You glance over and see him clench his jaw, eyes flicking down to his ribs.

He’s hurt. Worse than he let on.

“You’ve been hiding that,” you say gently.

He doesn’t deny it. “Didn’t seem relevant at the time.”

You sit up slightly, brushing off dust and broken drywall. “It’s relevant now if we’re going to get out of here.”

Chishiya doesn’t argue. Just nods once and watches you with that sharp, observant gaze of his—calculating even in silence.

You crawl to one of the fallen slabs of concrete blocking the doorway. It’s shifted a little since the collapse, probably unstable. You test the edge of it carefully with your fingers. It’s heavier than you expected, but movable. Maybe.

You glance over your shoulder.

He’s already beside you.

“I’ll lift,” he says. “You wedge something under.”

You pause. “You sure?”

He nods, already rolling his sleeves up, teeth grit against the pain. You don’t waste time arguing.

You move in sync—wordless, efficient.

It’s not easy. The slab grinds against the floor with a low groan, and dust rains down from above. Your muscles scream from the strain, and you hear Chishiya suppress a quiet grunt of pain.

But he doesn’t stop.

Not until the slab tips enough for you to wedge a twisted metal pole beneath it. It holds, barely.

There’s just enough space now for the two of you to squeeze through.

“You first,” he says.

You raise a brow. “You're injured. You should go.”

He eyes you, unreadable. “And let you stay behind and do something reckless again? No thanks.”

It’s… the closest thing to concern you’ve heard from him.

You don’t argue. Just crawl through the gap, careful of the jagged edges, until the rubble gives way to open air and biting wind.

Freedom.

You turn to offer your hand—and to your surprise, he takes it.

His grip is warm despite everything. Solid.

You pull him through slowly, his teeth clenched as he drags his body past the debris. He winces when he’s fully out, but the tension in his shoulders loosens once he’s free.

You both sit there for a moment in the grey light of morning. Exhausted. Filthy. Alive.

He exhales, leaning back against a broken concrete pillar, and closes his eyes for a beat. “Well,” he mutters, “that wasn’t ideal.”

You huff out a breath. “And yet, we survived.”

He glances sideways at you, something unreadable in his expression again. “We always do.”

The way he says we doesn’t go unnoticed.

It’s not gratitude. Not affection. Not even a confession.

It’s… acceptance.

Of your presence. Of your place beside him. Of the fact that, somewhere along the way, you stopped being someone he just noticed—and became someone he trusted.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out what looks like a crushed energy bar, snapped in half. Without looking at you, he holds one half out.

You blink. “Is this your idea of breakfast?”

“Unless you want to fight a tiger next,” he replies flatly. “Take it or leave it.”

You take it.

Your fingers brush again—just briefly—and this time, he doesn’t pull away.

And neither do you.

___________________________________________________________________________

The sun begins to dip below the skyline, setting the shattered city in hues of gold and rust.

You’ve both walked for hours, navigating broken roads and hollow buildings. By the time you stumble across the half-collapsed hotel, your body aches in places you didn’t know could ache. Chishiya walks beside you, a little slower than usual—his side must still be bothering him, though he won’t admit it.

The hotel looks unstable, but familiar enough in its decay to be worth the risk.

Inside, the air is stale but dry. The lower floors are ruined, the lobby reduced to cracked tile and broken glass. But upstairs—after climbing past crumbled staircases and stepping over a dead vending machine—you find the jackpot.

Beds. Real ones.

Dusty. Lopsided. But beds nonetheless.

The rooms are mostly intact. There’s even a functioning door that clicks softly shut when you try it. Two rooms side by side. No threats. No other signs of life.

It almost feels like peace.

You spend the next hour scavenging. Chishiya finds a half-full medical box in what used to be a spa room. You dig through supply closets and snag a few protein bars and two bottles of mostly-clear water. One is slightly expired, but Chishiya just shrugs when you point it out.

“We’ve had worse,” he says.

Which is true.

You both return to the room you picked—the one with a window that still opens—and divide the supplies without speaking much. There's no debate over who gets what. No bargaining. Just an easy, automatic understanding.

As the last of the sunlight filters through the dust-streaked glass, you glance over at him.

He’s seated on the edge of the bed now, arms loosely folded, head tilted toward the window. There’s a faint orange glow along his cheekbone, catching in his pale hair, making him look unreal. Like he doesn’t belong in this world.

But somehow, you’ve never felt more grounded.

You break the silence after a long moment. “Do you miss it?”

He turns toward you slowly. “Miss what?”

“Before.” You motion vaguely toward the city. “The real world. Whatever your life was.”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Then: “Not really.”

You blink. “Seriously?”

“There’s nothing to miss,” he says simply. “Most people just survive pretending they’re alive. Here, at least, there’s no illusion.”

You stare at him, unsure what to say to that. The cynicism is pure Chishiya—but something about the way he says it makes your chest ache. Like maybe, despite the indifference in his voice, there's a quiet thread of loss buried under it.

After a pause, he turns the question back at you.

“You?”

You exhale slowly. “Yeah. I miss… having music in the background. Late trains. Stupid things. The smell of clean laundry. Having somewhere to go that wasn’t life or death.”

Chishiya watches you, eyes narrowed slightly. Not mocking. Not judging. Just… listening.

You offer a tired smile. “And I miss sleeping in a bed that doesn’t try to kill me.”

At that, the corner of his mouth twitches.

Progress.

___________________________________________________________________________

Eventually, night settles fully over the ruins.

Chishiya stands up and stretches, moving toward the door to the room next to yours.

“There are two beds this time,” he says lightly, one hand on the doorknob.

You nod, feigning nonchalance. “Yeah. Guess we don’t have to cuddle tonight.”

He pauses—not long, just for a breath. “Guess not.”

The door clicks softly shut behind him.

You lie down in your bed, adjusting the blanket around you. It's not bad. The mattress sinks in just enough to feel something like comfort. The room is quiet, still.

But it's cold.

And it’s worse, somehow, than last night.

You turn onto your side. Then your back. Then your stomach. Nothing helps. Your thoughts churn restlessly.

Last night… was warm. Peaceful, in a way nothing has been for a long time.

You hadn’t planned to fall asleep next to him, but once you were there—wrapped in that makeshift blanket, with the heat of his body close—you’d slept deeper than you had in weeks.

And now?

Now you're just cold and annoyed at your own neediness.

You stare at the cracked ceiling.

You wait ten minutes. Maybe fifteen.

And then, finally—quietly—you rise.

You don’t bother putting on shoes. Just cross the hallway in your socks, listening for any sound from inside his room. You pause with your hand on the doorknob, nerves fluttering in your chest.

Then you turn it.

The door creaks slightly as you open it. The room is dark, lit only by the city glow bleeding through the window. The bed creaks faintly as Chishiya shifts. You can see him clearly enough—propped on one elbow, watching you enter like he expected it.

Maybe he did.

You close the door behind you, slowly, and move toward the bed.

Chishiya doesn’t speak. Doesn’t ask what you’re doing.

He just watches as you lift the blanket and crawl in next to him.

You settle in beside him again, careful not to touch too much. The mattress is smaller than the floor had been. Your shoulders brush. Your legs bump under the blanket.

It’s quiet.

Then, finally, he lifts one eyebrow, dry amusement in his voice.

“Couldn’t resist my charm, huh?”

You snort. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He hums, then lies back down fully, arm folding behind his head.

You lie beside him in silence. The warmth starts to spread again. Not just from his body—but from the stillness. The peace.

A beat passes.

Then another.

Chishiya speaks again—so softly you almost miss it.

“…You sleep better this way?”

You turn your head, surprised.

His face is turned toward the ceiling. He’s not looking at you.

You hesitate.

Then nod once. “Yeah. I do.”

He doesn’t respond right away. But then his arm shifts. Not touching you—just moving a little closer beneath the blanket.

The space between you shrinks again. Just enough.

You let your eyes drift closed, heart still pounding.

And then, in the dark, you hear him say—so quietly it might’ve been a thought rather than a voice:

“Me too.”

___________________________________________________________________________

You don’t remember falling asleep.

Only the steady rhythm of his breathing.

The warmth that slowly seeped through your skin.

The feeling of being held by silence, not alone in it.

The first thing you notice when you wake is the quiet.

Not the panicked kind. Not the empty kind, either.

Just… peaceful.

Then you notice the second thing: you’re not where you started.

You’re closer to him now.

Somewhere in the night—whether by choice or instinct—you must’ve shifted in your sleep. One of your legs is draped over his, and your head has ended up on his shoulder, nose buried slightly into the soft fabric of his hoodie. One of his hands rests loosely at your back. Not tight. Not holding you there.

But not letting you go, either.

The sunlight filters softly through the broken blinds, casting pale gold lines across the wall, the bed, the sharp line of Chishiya’s jaw.

He’s still asleep.

And that alone surprises you. You didn’t think he could sleep like this. So open. So exposed. But he does — his features slack and unguarded, lips parted slightly in rest. The ever-present edge in him has softened.

For a long, suspended moment, you just watch him.

You don’t want to move. Not because of the comfort — though that’s part of it — but because if you shift too loudly, if you break the spell of morning stillness, you might have to face it.

Face what this has become.

Because this is not nothing anymore.

You close your eyes again. Let yourself stay there. Just for a little longer.

But, as if he can hear the thoughts rattling inside your skull, Chishiya stirs beneath you.

His breath catches lightly, then evens again.

A slow blink. Then two.

He opens his eyes, turns his head slightly toward you, and you feel him go still.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t push you away.

Instead, his fingers flex just slightly against your back — the only sign he’s even registered the intimacy of the position.

And then, of course, in classic Chishiya fashion, he breaks the silence with dry irony.

“…You drooled on me.”

You gasp and lift your head instinctively, already about to deny it—before catching the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You scowl. “I did not.”

“Mm. Must’ve been rain, then,” he deadpans, one eyebrow lifting. “From inside the building.”

You groan and shove his shoulder lightly. He allows the push, shifting under you with a soft exhale that’s almost—almost—a laugh.

You move to sit up, but his hand lingers just briefly at your back.

Not to stop you. Just… stays.

And that hesitation—that small, unconscious tether—makes your chest tighten.

When you finally sit upright, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, he follows a beat later, dragging a hand through his hair, still disheveled from sleep. He doesn’t meet your eyes at first.

Neither do you.

But the silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable. Not like before. It’s thicker now, weighted with everything you didn’t say.

After a long moment, Chishiya stands and moves toward the window, peeking through the blinds.

“Still clear,” he says. “We should move soon if we want to get to the Beach by sundown.”

You nod and rise, stretching your sore limbs, still feeling the ghost of where your body had pressed against his.

You glance at him again before leaving the room.

He’s looking out the window, but his voice follows you as you step toward the door.

“…If we find another place like this,” he says, quiet but even, “and there’s only one bed again…”

You turn your head, waiting.

He still doesn’t look at you.

“…I wouldn’t mind sharing.”

Your breath catches.

But you don’t tease him. Don’t ruin it with a joke. Instead, you nod once — small, sincere — and step into the hallway.

He follows after a moment.

And neither of you say another word about it.

But you both know:

It won’t be the last time.

___________________________________________________________________________

The Beach is louder than you remember.

You walk through the gates with aching legs and dirt on your face, but it’s the noise that hits you hardest: laughter, splashing water, music from someone’s half-broken speaker. It feels wrong, somehow—this joy in the middle of hell. But you suppose survival breeds strange coping mechanisms.

Chishiya walks beside you, his hoodie pulled up to shade his face. He doesn’t speak as you pass through the clusters of half-naked strangers. He doesn’t have to. His posture tells you enough: tense, alert, calculating.

As always.

Still, you notice how his shoulder stays just close enough to yours to be deliberate.

A few heads turn as you both pass. Some recognize him. A few glance at you, eyes lingering—noticing the proximity, the silence between you that's less awkward and more… familiar.

Hatter’s not around, but Kuina spots you almost immediately and jogs over, her usual smirk widening as she takes you both in.

“Well well,” she says, sweeping her eyes over you with a grin. “I didn’t think I’d see both of you again. Figured one of you would have murdered the other by now.”

You glance at Chishiya. “Tempting.”

He hums. “You sleep too deeply to be worth the effort.”

Kuina laughs, but her gaze sharpens slightly as she looks between you. She picks up on it. Of course she does. The small shifts. The softer edges.

“So…” she drawls, eyes twinkling. “You two close now, or just sharing body heat to conserve resources?”

You open your mouth to deflect, but Chishiya cuts in first:

“Both.”

Your head whips toward him in shock. His face is unreadable—but his lips twitch ever so slightly, betraying that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Kuina raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but lets it go. For now.

___________________________________________________________________________

The Beach is quiet at night.

Too quiet.

You lie on the stiff cot in your assigned room, blankets pulled up to your chin. You stare at the ceiling and pretend the bed feels fine, the air feels warm, and the space beside you doesn’t feel… empty.

You last about fifteen minutes.

Then you're up.

Quiet steps across the hallway.

No shoes. No excuses. No hesitation.

The door to his room creaks slightly as you push it open. He doesn’t turn — doesn’t even flinch — just watches you with that unreadable expression as you pad across the room and crawl into his bed.

You don’t speak. Neither does he.

You slip under the blanket. He shifts slightly, just enough to make space for you without making it obvious that he was waiting.

His shoulder brushes yours again.

It's familiar now — that quiet warmth. That silence that doesn't ask for permission.

You rest your cheek against the curve of his upper arm and exhale softly. “Separate beds are overrated.”

He hums. “So is pretending this means nothing.”

You don’t answer.

Neither does he.

But you both fall asleep faster than you have in days.

__________________________________________________________________________

The next game is a 8 of Diamone — logic, psychology, trust.

And, of course, betrayal.

The room is a maze of mirrors and timers, each choice leading to a countdown, a riddle, or a trap. You and Chishiya are separated halfway through. You can still hear his voice sometimes through the walls — clipped commands, calm assessments, telling others where not to go.

You hold your own. Until you don't.

One wrong answer. One misstep.

You're cornered in a dead-end hallway with a pressure floor and no visible way out. The timer above your head flashes red — 00:09, 00:08 — and you're too far to run.

You freeze.

Then the door behind you bursts open.

Chishiya is there.

His hoodie is soaked with sweat, chest rising with sharp breaths. “Move!” he yells.

You do — not because your body listens, but because his voice cuts through the panic.

He grabs you roughly by the wrist and yanks you into the corridor just as the trap triggers. The door slams shut. There's a thunderous BOOM behind you, and the force knocks you both forward.

Your knees hit the ground hard. He lands beside you, his arm thrown around your back to brace your fall.

The silence after is deafening.

You're alive.

You turn your head, eyes wide. “How did you—?”

“I heard the timer.”

“You were three zones over—”

“I heard it,” he snaps, sharper than you’ve ever heard from him. His voice trembles at the edges.

You stare at him.

His jaw is clenched. His fingers dig into your wrist, too tight to be casual. His breath shakes. Just once.

And that’s when it hits you.

He was scared.

You’ve never seen it before — not like this. Not from him.

His walls don’t crack. They shatter, just for a second, and you see the truth behind them.

You weren’t just another player to him anymore. You were something else. Something dangerous.

Something that could be lost.

__________________________________________________________________________

The door shuts behind you with a soft click, but it’s already too late for silence.

Without a word, your bodies slam together.

Your lips crash hard and hungry against his, urgent and desperate—like you’re trying to make up for all the time lost, the dangers faced, and the unspoken truths hanging between you.

His hands move fast, rough and possessive, gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him with fierce intensity. The fabric of his jacket wrinkles under your fingers as you dig in, anchoring yourself to something solid in the chaos of your racing heart.

His breath is ragged, hot and trembling against your skin, and your own gasps mingle with his in a frantic rhythm.

You’re not gentle. You don’t want gentle. You want raw. Real.

His fingers thread into your hair, tugging you closer, tilting your head with an insistence that makes your pulse spike.

Your arms wrap tight around his neck, fingers curling into the soft hair at the nape, as if holding on is the only thing that might keep you both from falling apart.

There’s no hesitation, no delicate testing — just pure need, spilling out all at once in the rough brush of lips and the sharp bite of teeth.

Your teeth graze his bottom lip, a spark igniting low in his throat as he groans—a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through your chest.

He opens for you, tongue slipping in, claiming and tasting, a silent confession in every movement.

Your body melts into his, the heat between you a sharp contrast to the cool night air drifting through the cracked window. The faint scent of saltwater and sweat and something uniquely him clings to your skin, making the world outside this room vanish completely.

Your heart pounds so hard you’re sure he can hear it, but his hands never loosen their grip, never let you forget that you’re here, real, and not alone.

You push closer, body pressed tight against his, and feel him respond — a low hum of something fierce and guarded.

His jaw is tense under your fingertips, but his hold never falters.

When you break apart, gasping for air, your foreheads press together, breaths mingling, hearts beating out a wild, shaky rhythm.

His dark eyes hold yours — fierce, unreadable, raw with something unspoken.

Neither of you speaks.

Neither needs to.

You just stay there — caught in the fragile, burning silence of a moment that says more than words ever could.

___________________________________________________________________________

The morning light slips through the cracked blinds, casting thin stripes of gold across the floor.

You’re still there, pressed close against Chishiya, the warmth of his body the only shield against the chill in the air.

Neither of you moves for a long time — just breaths, soft and uneven, the silence heavier than the night before.

His hand finds yours, fingers curling around yours almost instinctively, but his gaze stays fixed somewhere past your shoulder.

You squeeze his hand gently, waiting for him to say something — anything — but he doesn’t.

Instead, he shifts, pulling the blanket tighter around you both, anchoring you in the moment without a single word.

When he finally speaks, it’s quiet, rough at the edges.

“Don’t expect this to change anything.”

You meet his eyes, steady now, the ghost of a smile playing on your lips.

“I don’t.”

But you know it already has.

The unspoken promises, the guarded glances, the way his hand lingers a little longer when he thinks you’re not looking—

It’s all there, under the surface, quietly reshaping everything.

And maybe that’s enough.

For now.

___________________________________________________________________________

Even when he said nothing changed, everything had.

He let you into his heart in the smallest ways — the ones no one else could see.

You understood how you two kissed when nobody was looking — quick, secret touches of lips that spoke more than words ever could.

How he let you borrow his hoodie before the harsh games, the fabric hanging oversized on you but carrying his scent like a shield.

How, without a word, he took care of you in quiet ways — a bandage wrapped a little tighter, a glance that said stay close, a hand resting lightly on your back when you didn’t even realize you needed it.

He wasn’t one for grand declarations or easy emotions, but you saw it all in the way he stood a little closer, in the moments he didn’t pull away.

The diamond game had changed something — not in what he said, but in what he showed.

And you knew, no matter how much he tried to hide it, that you’d become something he couldn’t let go.

___________________________________________________________________________

The night is cold and unforgiving, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones no matter how tightly you cling to a threadbare blanket.

The echoes of the King of Spades’ attack still ring in your ears — shouts, frantic footsteps, the sharp crack of gunfire, and the heavy weight of dread pressing down on your chest.

Somehow, you and Chishiya have been separated from the others, finding refuge in a crumbling building that smells of dust and rust.

You don’t speak. Words feel unnecessary.

Instead, you huddle together beneath the single, thin blanket, the chill forcing your bodies closer.

His arms wrap around you, strong and steady, pulling you flush against his chest. The steady beat of his heart beneath your ear is a fragile anchor in the chaos.

You close your eyes, letting yourself be held, the warmth slowly replacing the cold that had settled deep inside.

After a long silence, your voice breaks the quiet — a whisper trembling with something more than fear.

“I… love you.”

Chishiya doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his fingers tighten gently around your shoulder, a silent promise.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost reluctant, but laced with something unmistakably real:

“After this… after Borderlands… meet me.”

His words are simple, but they carry a weight heavier than any confession.

It’s a quiet hope, a promise of something beyond the endless games and death.

You look up, searching his eyes — dark, guarded, but shining with a fragile vulnerability.

He doesn’t say ‘me too,’ but you know what he means.

His quiet invitation says it all: he cares.

He wants more.

And for the first time in this cruel game, you feel a flicker of something that feels like hope.

Wrapped in his arms, with the night pressing close around you, you let yourself believe that maybe — just maybe — there’s a future waiting beyond the Borderlands.

___________________________________________________________________________

The first light of dawn creeps through the cracked windows, softening the shadows in the room.

You’re still nestled against Chishiya, the thin blanket now a fragile shield between you and the cold world outside.

Neither of you speaks—there’s no need.

His quiet invitation to meet after Borderlands lingers in the air, a fragile thread of hope woven between the two of you.

You squeeze his hand gently, a silent vow passing between you — that no matter what the games throw at you, you’ll face it together.

Because in this brutal, unforgiving world, you’ve found something rare.

Something real.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s enough.

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hellodarling1357 · 2 days ago

Note

hello! i saw you are taking requests for cassian x reader, so i was wondering if you could do one where the reader is kinda shy with anxiety and like maybe about how he helps her in social situations to stay calm or he has to calm her down from anxiety attack? i hope you have a great day!!

Coming Back To You - Cassian x Reader

Hello!! I am so so so sorry this has taken me so long but I hope you enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Anxiety, panic attacks, negative self talk

*Not edited*

The smile that had been plastered on your lips for the past two hours was beginning to shake, the muscles around your face tensing along with the rest of your body as you tried to maintain a calm presence alongside your mate’s side. As the cluster of voices and laughter and clinking of glasses began to swirl into an incomprehensible jumble of sounds, you suddenly became all too aware of your breathing, your heart rate, the shakiness of your hands, the tension of your back, the—

Stop

Giving yourself a little shake, you attempted a deep breath in the hopes of calming your racing thoughts as Cassian’s hand gently wrapped around your waist, grounding you back into the present moment. You looked up at him, and felt everything begin to even out as you marvelled at how at ease he seemed, how confident, and how at peace he was in a room full of people - some known, others not. Your lip quirked up into a small smile, heart fluttering, as you watched him throw his head back in a laugh. His happiness was contagious, a familiar comfort that had you easing back into the conversation.

“Well then… what do you think about that, Y/N?”

The sudden switch in the small group’s attention being placed directly on you had that fleeting ease shriveling up just as fast. You looked away from Cassian, eyes taking in the faces watching you expectantly, waiting for an answer to a question you hadn’t heard; the realisation that you didn’t even know what they had been talking about had your face reddening.

“I…I…sorry, what was that?” A friendly chortle echoed around you as the male smiled good naturedly and repeated the question. You could see his lips moving but all you could hear was the blood pumping past your ears, the tightening of your chest, the quick intakes of breath… Gods, why couldn’t you just act normal. Be normal. There were more than a few occasions when you mind was left to wander after similar situations, traitorously asking how and why someone like Cassian could end up with you. Someone so charismatic, likeable, sociable, could end up being mated to, stuck with your mind offered, someone who couldn’t get through a single conversation without making an embarrassing mess of themselves, someone who—

“Oh shit, how did that happen?” You were torn away from your thoughts as all eyes, including your own, turned away from you to Cassian, whose drink had somehow ended up all over him. “Y/N, can you help me clean this up…?” He trailed off, giving an apologetic smile to the group before grasping your hand and leading you through the crowd of people and out the door into the quiet, secluded corridor.

Your mind was still playing catch up as he turned to face you, a soft, somewhat concerned smile gracing his features as he took in your expression.

“Sweetheart, it’s alright. You’re alright. Breath, okay? Just how we spoke about.”

Your mind cleared a little as you focused on his face, the gentle squeeze of his hands as they held yours. Following his lead, you took in a deep breath, tensing at the jagged manner in which you released it, however, you easily relaxed at the small presence you were only just noticing. Cassian’s calming tug on the mating bond pulling you right back to him. The two of you stood there in silence, Cassian’s hands enveloping your own, offering soothing squeezes and soft caresses across your knuckles, as the warmth from the mating bond slowly filled and took over all that you were.

Squeezing your eyes shut and releasing a final deep breath, you let what remained of your anxiety ease away and allowed for the space it left to be filled with the feelings of care and comfort and overwhelming, undeniable love that never once faltered from the beautiful male standing in front of you.

“Hi,” Even his voice, lowered to a gentle whisper, soothed you.

“Hi,” You repeated, biting your lip as you looked around and your senses came back in full swing. The sounds from the party, the expectant looks as you fumbled over your words… Gods what must they all be thinking—

“Nope, we’re not doing that. I’m not letting you go back there. Y/N, you’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you, yeah?” The reassuring certainty and the squeeze of your hands grounded you once again. Your feet pulled you forward as you all but fell against Cassian. His arms immediately circled around you, holding you against his chest as he caught you. He had always and would always catch you.

The two of you stood in the empty corridor, ignoring the call of the party and the music, all you were focused on was the steady rhythm of Cassian’s beating heart and the warmth he enveloped you in, and the sticky feel of…

“Cass…,” you begin, pulling your head away from its place against his chest as you peered up to meet his gaze. “Did you pour your drink all over yourself?”

“Umm, yes? Yes I did.”

“What?” You couldn’t help but let out a laugh as Cassian pinched your sides. “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know, I panicked…,” Cassian laughed with you, hands trailing up and down your spine as he felt his own tension ease away as he took in your laughter and smile. “You were…wrapped up too tightly in that head of yours. I couldn’t reach you.” His quiet admittance had a wave of feelings washing over you.

“Oh,” you pulled back a little, that uncertainty, those betraying thoughts peaking up once more, reminding you of what you constantly put Cassian through. “Sorry.”

An expression you couldn’t quite place crossed Cassian’s face but before you could begin to interpret it you were lifted off the ground and all but slung over Cassian’s shoulder.

“What! Cass, what…! What are you doing? Put me down.” Your exclamations, mixed in with unrestrained laughter fell on deaf ears. Instead, Cassian started tickling you, ignoring the way you swatted at his back and struggled to get out of his grasp, and didn’t stop until you were breathless with laughter, falling limp as he continued to hold you against him.

He gave you a moment of reprieve, fingers stilling until they lingered in small, soothing circles against your back. “Don’t do that, Y/N. You have nothing to apologise for…”

“Cass, I—“

“Nope, again, I’m not letting you do that. I am going to keep tickling you until you take back that sorry.”

“Cass, come on…”

“I’m really not joking about this, sweetheart.” And to prove his point his fingers found your sides again, the bond sending down a wave of amusement, adoration, love…

“Fine!” You exclaimed, fighting for breath. “Fine. Okay, I’m not sorry. In fact, I take back every sorry I’ve ever said to you. But… thank you, okay? I’m allowed to say thank you.”

Cassian placed you back on the ground, refusing to let go as his hands found there place on your hips.

“I think after I poured a perfectly good drink all over myself a thank you is definitely allowed. But thank you for taking back that sorry.”

You let out a sigh, features softening as you leant up on your toes and pulled him down to you. The feel of his lips gently moulding against yours was the final push you needed to fully fall back into yourself. Instead of being overcome by racing thoughts, you let Cassian overtake every part of you.

“Want to go home?” Cassian asked, lips trailing across your jaw.

“Shouldn’t we stay a little longer, appearances sake and all that.” You tried to counter but without even having to look at you, Cassian knew that was the last thing you wanted.

“Nah, we’ve shown our faces, made the rounds… I think we’ve played our part.”

You nodded, taking Cassian’s hand and letting him guide you towards the balcony. Just as he moved to pick you up, you stopped him.

“Cass, I just…” You looked up at him once more, melting into his touch as a calloused finger eased over the furrow of your brows. “Thank you. I know you don’t want me saying sorry for ruining the night and for always getting like that… but thank you for being the one to bring me back.”

Instead of answering straight away, Cassian let out a soft sigh before gently cupping your face as he placed a tender kiss to your lips.

“We, my love, are going to have a long, long conversation when we get home. I think you need to be reminded of the fact that you having these feelings and these thoughts is not a burden or an inconvenience or whatever else runs through that head of yours. You are my mate. I love you, words can’t express how much I love you. And there is not a single thing I would change about you, alright?” He kissed you once more, fingers softly wiping away the tears that trickled down your cheeks.

“You really wouldn’t change anything?” You hated yourself for asking. You knew, deep down you knew, that whatever your brain told you wasn’t actually true but you were still feeling vulnerable.

“Well… I don’t know, maybe the snoring, I would change the soothing, but other than that I wouldn’t change anything. Not. A. Single. Thing” He said between kisses, grinning against your lips as you gently hit his chest.

“I don’t snore. You snore.” You grumbled as Cassian pulled you into his arms. The feeling of complete and utter safety settled with you.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

———————————

Requests are open! 💌

#cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #cassian acotar #cassian x you #marley writes

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kjiscrawlingbackformore · 2 days ago

Text

Peace - Act III : Chapter seven

Lottie Matthews x fem!reader

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: Reader comes back to her hometown and transfers to Wiskayok High School after getting expelled from her previous high school. Follows Junior year into Senior year, all the way up to the crash. (Eventual NSFW mdni)

Warnings: None

The sun was sinking low over the field, casting long golden shadows across the turf. You moved along the sidelines, camera pressed to your face, the familiar click of the shutter echoing softly under the sounds of whistles and yelling.

Jackie looked pristine as always, ponytail bouncing, uniform spotless, calling out instructions like a born leader. Beautiful even when she wasn’t trying to be. It made you roll your eyes.

Van was in rare form, half-serious and half goofball, pretending to strike superhero poses mid-drill just to mess with Coach Martinez. Mari and Laura Lee flanked Lottie as they weaved through cones, their laughter carrying lightly through the air.

Tai jogged up to Coach mid-drill. “Come on, just one hint. Give me initials. Shirt color. Something.”

Coach Martinez didn’t even blink. “You want to impress scouts? Play like every game is their game.”

Tai groaned. “That’s not an answer, that’s propaganda.”

You lowered your camera, snorting quietly. On the far side of the field, Shauna was running paired drills with Allie, barking corrections and encouragements like a pro.

It all looked so alive, really sweaty, even more chaotic, warm, and you realized just how much you’d missed being here. The familiar buzz of cleats against turf, the mix of sweat and sunblock in the air, the click of the shutter syncing with laughter and shouts.

During water break, Lottie jogged toward the sidelines and peeled off her headband, sweat dotting her brow. She kept her voice low as she leaned close to you, barely audible under the chatter around them.

“So… Ben Grimes,” she said casually. Too casually. “Has he been flirting with you?”

You raised an eyebrow, fighting the smug grin, wanting to make an appearance. “You’re still thinking about that?”

Lottie rolled her eyes. “Um, no.”

You gave her a look that said liar. “Well,” you added with a shrug, “he did bring flowers to my desk in mixed media an hour ago.”

Lottie froze mid-sip of her water, expression unreadable for a second, cheeks flushed either from practice or something else entirely. “Are you serious? What kind?”

The way she said it, like it was a challenge, like she was already plotting how to one-up him, made you laugh, full and warm.

“No,” you said, amused. “But if he did, I’d tell him to piss off. The Yellowjackets got me booked all season long.”

That did it. Lottie relaxed, her mouth pulling into a grin that was far too pleased.

You glanced over Lottie’s shoulder. “Water break’s almost up.”

Reaching up and brushing a stray piece of turf out of Lottie’s hair without thinking. “Focus up, Matthews,” you said, smirking. “You gotta lock in if you want to make it to nationals this year.”

Lottie grinned so hard her cheeks hurt. “Yes, ma’am.” And for a second, standing there in the middle of the field, your eyes still on her, Lottie almost forgot they weren’t allowed to kiss in public.

Almost.

Your eyes lingered on her face before you motioned for her to head back. She pouted and gave a sigh before jogging back to the field. You watched her go, your heart clenching within your chest.

Your fingertips drumming on your leg, feeling a burst of energy buzz within you. Having no place to go. You turned your back to the field and focused on your job.

The next night, Mari’s party had bloomed in the backyard like it always did, too many folding chairs, too many voices, too many barely-legal bottles passed hand to hand. Someone had strung fairy lights across the fence, and they flickered every time the music swelled. It was the night before the first game of the season, and no one wanted to think about cleats or drills or Coach Martinez’s whistle.

You were leaning against the deck rail, the cheap lighter in your hand flickering as you lit the blunt Natalie had pressed into your palm fifteen minutes ago with a sly, “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

She watched you with a wide grin, and a deep look in her eyes. Like she was excited to see your reaction. Before you pressed it to your lips you narrowed your eyes at Nat.

“Promise this isn’t laced with anything insane?”

She chuckled, “Scouts honor.” she promised holding up crossed fingers like it was sacred.

You nod, and bring the blunt to your lips, eyes still on Natalie as you took a deep inhale. She look held your gaze with an intensity that seemed to soften around the edges in the haze of the blunt in your mouth.

It tasted like pine needles and ash. You exhaled slowly, letting the sound of bickering and laughter blur into white noise. Nat plucked the blunt from your lips and took a hit of the same bud. She exhaled smoke into your face.

“Rude.” You mumble, waiting for her to give it back.

She smiles, “Consider it the dealers tax. Besides wanted to taste it.”

You motioned for it back, and she rolled her eyes, “Not even a please?” she teased.

You scoffed, “Didn’t realize the badass Natalie Scatorccio would demand manners.”

“Hmm well as an ex girl scout, manners will always be a big deal for me.” She deadpan, but after a minute she cracked a smile and giggled.

Natalie fucking giggled.

You’ve never heard her do that. Or seen her looks so soft and…cute? Your eyes widen and lips crack into a smile. “You are soooo fucking high. How much have you smoked???” You ask, reaching for the blunt.

Natalie giggles, and moves her hand away from your reach. “Awww do you care? Don’t worry I’m a big girl I can handle it. Besides I’m not the one we should be worried about.” She motions to past you, and turn your gaze to the direction.

Across the yard, Tai was in a full-on debate with Allie about defensive positioning, her hands flailing dramatically while Allie rolled her eyes and mimed throwing herself into a bush.

You laughed, not just at them, but maybe too hard at something Ben Grimes had just muttered under his breath beside her. Something about Tai being one bad call away from biting someone.

Where Ben came from you had no idea. He seemed to manifest out of nowhere. And in this appearance, Natalie seemed to disappear. He has a shy grin as he says something else, clever, a little funny. And you can’t help the chuckle that slips from you.

Van caught it. But more importantly, so did Lottie.

Lottie, sitting on the back steps with a red Solo cup in one hand and Mari’s voice still buzzing in her ear. She'd taken two sips too many, half a hit from Van’s joint, and now the edges of the world were a little too soft. Her jaw tightened when she saw Ben lean closer toward you, like he was about to make a third joke. She didn’t even hear it. Didn’t need to.

Van nudged her shoulder. “Yo. Chill.”

Lottie didn’t. She snatched the joint from Van’s fingers with more force than necessary, took a quick inhale, then pushed herself up.

“I’m getting another drink,” she said, not really looking at anyone.

Van leaned back, grinning. “Touchy.”

Lottie didn’t respond, just headed inside, the hem of her denim jacket brushing against the screen door as it slammed behind her. Your eyes caught Lottie’s escape back inside.

You frowned, your stomached dipped at the harshness of her exit. You sigh, turning your head to see Nat talking to a boy. You grabbed her shoulder, Nat’s eyes widened at the sight of you. But she smiled when you handed the blunt back to her in passing.

You then murmured something to Ben that sounded like a laugh and an apology but didn’t reach your eyes. Then you followed Lottie back inside.

You found her in the kitchen, staring at a shelf of mismatched cups like they were judging her. The music was muffled here, replaced by the hum of the fridge and the buzz of the overhead light.

“Hey,” you said, stepping in close. “You good?”

Lottie didn’t answer right away. Just filled her cup with something orange and carbonated, then took a sip and made a face. “Why does this taste like cough syrup and poor decisions?”

You smirked, a chuckle bubbling up. “Because it is.”

Lottie set the cup down a little too hard. “Can we leave?”

You raised a brow. “We haven’t even been here an hour.”

“Yeah, well,” Lottie said, her voice lower now, close to a whisper, “I’m done here. Let’s go do anything else. Please.”

You studied her for a second. The smudged mascara, the twitch of her hand near her mouth, the tiny crack in her bravado.

“Ben is harmless,” You said gently. “And you really need to stop mixing alcohol and weed together to numb out your frustration. It’s not a cute cocktail.”

You don’t mention her meds. How she shouldn’t be drinking so much while on them. How you’ve seen how it makes her hangover worse when she drinks too much. And normally you don’t have to. Lottie will normally nurse a single drink all night.

Tonight seemed to be an exception.

Lottie gave a breathless laugh and leaned against the counter, her eyes a little glassy. “Says the girl who literally took a hit from Nat and ran inside here.”

You reached out and brushed your thumb along the edge of Lottie’s sleeve. “Someone’s been watching me.” You teased.

Lottie rolled her eyes, no crack of a smile on the horizon. You sighed, your head tilted to study her. She wouldn’t meet your eyes, and so you let your hand rest on top of hers in a gentle featherlight touch. “Fine. We can go.” You relented.

Lottie blinked at you. “Really?”

You nod, a small smile dancing on your lips. “Really.”

And in that moment, Lottie felt like she won something. Maybe everything. Because you chose her. Again. Without asking why. Without needing to. You both left out the back door with no goodbyes.

Van watched you both go, sipping from her drink, shaking her head with a grin. “Called it,” she muttered to no one in particular.

#lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews x you #natalie scatorccio #jackie taylor #jackie taylor x reader #lottie mathews x reader #yellowjackets #jackie yellowjackets #lottie yellowjackets #shauna shipman #shauna yellowjackets #van palmer #taissa turner #charlotte matthews

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afictionalwhor3 · 2 days ago

Text

All Grown Up

Dad!Bucky x Mom!Reader

Summary: Bucky's little girl is growing up and he doesn't know how to handle it

Word Count: 2.1k

Divider by @cafekitsune

“Mom! Can you come help me please?!” You hear your daughter Grace yell. You slowly untangle all your limbs from Bucky’s who groaned at all the movement. The two of you were cuddled on the couch, spending your Friday night watching a movie. He glared as you finally got yourself free and you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Be right back,” You smile before heading up to her room.

Tonight, Grace had a date planned with a boy she was friends with. You and Bucky had always been on the more lenient side when it came to letting her hangout with people. You both agreed that it wasn’t up to you to decide the people she called friends, trusting she would make the right decisions. And when she turned seventeen a couple of months ago, and got her license, the two of you gave her even more leeway. As far as you knew, this would be her first time ever going on a date. And when she brought it up last week at dinner it didn’t go so well.

“Anything planned for the weekend Gracie?” Bucky asked. The three of you had just finished up dinner and were still sitting at the dining room table.

“Nothing set in stone. I might hang out with Taylor and Jess if they aren’t working,” She says, but you can tell she has that nervous look in her eye. The way her eyes bounce between you and Bucky uncertainly, and how she tries to subtly wipe her hands on her pants.

“Anything you’d like to share?” You ask raising an eyebrow at her

“Actually yes,” She says sitting up taller and taking a deep breath “Next Friday I wanted to know if you guys would be okay with me going on a date?” She asks. You watch Bucky choke unsubtly on his drink, coughing as he puts it down. You wouldn’t lie you were a little shocked by this. But you didn’t see any reason why she couldn’t

“Yea sure. Who is with?” You ask curiously looking at her. Despite Bucky’s earlier blubbers she beams at you.

“Oh this boy at school. He’s new and he’s in one of my study groups. He asked me a couple days ago, but I wanted to talk to you guys first,” She says and the more she talks you watch her smile get bigger. You can’t help but to mirror her expression, her infectious energy getting to you as well. Before you could ask anything else, Bucky cuts in.

“Let’s just wait a minute here,” He says finally having composed himself. “We don’t know this boy, we have never met him, and we are going to let her go on a date with him?” Bucky asks looking at you. You give him a confused look

“Yeah why not?”

“Do you hear yourself y/n? We are talking about our newly seventeen year old daughter spending her Friday night with a boy we don’t even know doing god knows what?” He says. As if someone popped her like a balloon, you watch Grace’s energy deflate. Her back arches as she slowly sinks into herself.

“It was just mini golf and dinner,” She says but her voice is small. The confidence she had a couple of minutes ago quickly fleeting.

“Yeah Buck it’s just mini golf and dinner. Why are you acting this way?” You ask looking at him as he scoffs pushing himself back in his chair

“I can’t believe you aren’t acting this way?! You are acting like this is a conversation about the weather. Mini golf and a movie? You really buy that?!” He asks starting to raise his voice. Before you can butt in Grace stands abruptly.

“It’s not a big deal. I just wanted to ask before I said yes. There’s no need to start an argument over it. It’s not a big deal, I’m just gonna say no. I’m going to my room,” She says, but you don’t miss the way her voice cracks, and the way her brown eyes gloss over. She quickly turns from you guys running upstairs to her room. Your heartbreaks as you watch her leave. You turn your head to glare at Bucky and you don’t miss the pained expression on his face. But right now you couldn’t see pass your anger.

“Since when don’t we trust our kids James?! I cannot believe you right now! Seriously I cannot believe you just acted like this. I’m gonna go talk to our daughter and make sure she’s okay,” You say venom in your voice. You push your hair back loudly and before Bucky can say anything you are gone upstairs after your daughter. He places his head in his hands sighing at how he messed up.

Later that night

You stood in the adjoined bathroom doing your skincare routine while your husband laid in bed. It didn’t take a super soldier to know you were still upset with him. You hadn’t said a word to him since you came in the bedroom. You seemingly weren’t in a rush to join him either.

When you did eventually finish, you turned the bathroom light off and closed the door behind you. You made your way over to the bed, easily slipping under the covers with your back to Bucky. He sighed as he looked at you and then sat up,

“Please y/n. I can’t handle you being mad at me too. Please talk to me,” He pleaded with you. You rolled over onto your back so you could look at him.

“I still cannot believe you Bucky. We always promised we would trust our kids, unless they gave us a reason otherwise. Grace has never given us a reason to doubt her. Ever! And she’s seventeen now Bucky! I’m glad she feels like she can be honest enough with us to ask straight to our faces instead of sneaking around,” You say doing your best to get Bucky to see where she’s coming from.

“Yes I know you’re right. But you have to understand how hard it was-” Bucky starts before cutting him off.

“Please do not tell me how hard it was for you James,” You say laughing dryly “She is my daughter too. She is my youngest too Bucky. You don’t think it’s been hard for me too? To watch three, now four kids grow up faster than I could keep track of? But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop them from pursuing things because I’m the one scared. Do you know how hard it probably was for her? To know how protective you are of her, and still find the courage to ask us about this. Did you ever consider these things Bucky?” You ask and once again you watch him deflate and hang his head.

“No. I- I hadn’t thought about it that way,” He whispers. You sigh pinching the bridge of your nose. You took a deep breath before you opened your arms. Bucky looked at you before placing his head on your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist. You played with the dark brown hair that was beginning to gray “How was she?” He asks you softly. As if he was scared of the answer.

“She was upset. I told her she could go on the date. She said she didn’t wanna make you upset. I said I’d talk to you,” You say as Bucky looks up at you. His blue eyes filled with regret

“I messed up really bad didn’t I?” He asks biting his lip

“She’s gonna forgive you. She’s your little girl, your only daughter. I can tell how sorry you are, but you need to make sure she knows it. She’s only ever wanted to make us proud and she does it everyday. She needs that reassurance from you. And she needs your permission to go on the date. She needs to know that you aren’t angry or upset with her. That all your feelings are coming from a place of love and fear. But not because of anything she did,” You state looking at Bucky. He nods his head in silent understanding as you press a kiss to his forehead.

Now, a week later, you stood in Grace’s door watching her play nervously with her hair. She sees you in the reflection and turns around,

“Does this look okay? He said dress casually, but I don’t know how much is too little and I still wanna look good… Why are you looking at me like that?” She question as you walk closer. You wipe away at a stray tear that escapes your eye. “C’mon mom. Don’t get all mushy on me right now,” She says and you laugh.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just my little girl all grown up,” You say. She rolls her eyes but still allows you to pull her in for a hug. It was true. You weren’t just looking at the seventeen year old before you, but the ten year old who wanted to be a movie star, and the four year old who only wanted princess band-aids for her boo boos, and the little baby that came early but with so much fight. You squeeze her as tight as you can before you pull away. You look at her, moving a stray piece of curly hair that threatened to slip in front of her eyes “You look beautiful Gracie girl,” You smile before taking a step back. “Now c’mon. You said you need to leave by six,” You say making her smile and grab her purse. Before the two of you can walk out, she grabs your hand. “How is Dad?” She asks and it is impossible for her to hide the nervous look on her face.

“He is fine Grace. We were watching a movie when you called me and he hadn’t mentioned a thing about it,” You say and she nods, but you can tell she was not fully satisfied with that answer. After your talk that night, Bucky had a conversation with her when she got home from school. But for the last couple of days, it felt like the two were still walking on eggshells around each other. You squeeze her hand before ushering her down the stairs ahead of you.

“Is it normal to be this nervous?” She asks you and you nod your head laughing softly.

“Yeah first dates never get any easier. I was ten minutes late to my first date with your dad because I thought I was gonna throw up. But I think I turned out okay?” You say looking at her and she smiles back. When you get to the bottom of the stairs you see Bucky standing by the door looking at the two of you. You stand a couple steps behind Grace, watching the silent face-off between the two of them. Bucky makes the first move, walking to her and wrapping his arms around her tightly. She wastes now time closing her eyes and returning the hug. They spend a minute like that before Bucky pulls away to look at her,

“All I want is for you to be happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you and your brothers. You know that, right?” He asks as she nods her head. Bucky presses a kiss to the top of her head before letting go “I will be waiting with your mom to hear all about it when you get home. That is, whatever you want to tell us,” He says looking down at her. You walk over to the table by the door to grab her keys,

“I don’t want you to be late like me. This boy may not be as forgiving as your dad was,” You say handing her the keys which makes her laugh. “Be safe and have fun. I love you,” You say. She hugs you

“Bye Mom, bye Dad. Love you and I’ll be home soon,” She says. Before she walks out the door, she runs back to give Bucky a kiss on the cheek. He smiles while watching her run back out the front door, closing it behind her.

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff #dad!bucky #bucky fluff #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x black!reader #dad!bucky x black!reader #bucky

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mikeysonly · 2 days ago

Text

Indifference — Nagi Seishiro

tw: angst

sorry.

Nagi wasn’t a bad boyfriend. Well, let’s not say that. He was a great friend but an awful boyfriend.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t cheat. He didn’t lie. He just… wasn’t there. Not really, anyway.

And that’s what hurt.

“Sei, it just feels like you don’t care.”

He didn’t look up from his Switch. Just tapped at the screen, game still going.

“I do care,” he said flatly.

You waited for more. A glance. A hand. Anything. Okay, fucking prove it.

“You don’t act like it,” you said, sharper now. “People talk down to me. Make me feel small. And you just sit there. Like it’s not happening. Like I’m not worth defending.”

“It’s just easier not to make it a thing,” he mumbled. “Why does everything have to be a fight?”

You stared at him. At the slump in his shoulders, the lazy drift of his eyes. How he always looked half asleep. Like he didn’t care.

“It’s not a fight. It’s me. I’m telling you I’m hurt. And you won’t even look at me.”

Still no eye contact. Still no pause. Just the dull clicking of buttons.

“I cried in the bathroom last week, you know that?” you said. “Your friends called me names, told me I wasn’t worth it. I was a distraction. You just sat there.”

“It was just a joke,” he muttered.

“Jokes are supposed to be funny.”

“It was.”

He finally looked up then, but his expression didn’t change. Blank.

You wanted him to fight for you. Just once. To stand up, to raise his voice, to feel something.

But all you ever got was indifference dressed up as peace.

You felt pathetic. For begging. For trying. All you did was try, you did everything you could. You met him halfway for months. You stopped everything, even how you felt, to keep him comfortable. But he couldn’t make one change for you. Not one sacrifice.

“I don’t want to be someone you just tolerate,” you said, voice cracking. “I want to matter.”

Nagi blinked slowly, as if even that was a task.

“I never asked you to try so hard.”

That was the one. That was it.

You shook your head quickly and turned away before he could see you cry. Not that he’d try to stop you. Not that he’d even get up.

As the door clicked shut behind you, he stayed where he was. Game still open. Room still quiet. Like nothing had changed.

But something had.

Once you walked through that door, you knew you weren’t coming back.

You thought about turning around. You even stopped in front of the door, back still turned. You wanted to kick it down, scream: Please, my God, please be kind to me. Please stick up for me. Please be strong for me. Please—anything. Just make me feel seen for once. All I want is to be loved. Please, God, love me.

But you didn’t.

#blue lock #seishiro nagi x reader #seishiro nagi #bllk nagi #blue lock nagi #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #bllk seishiro #seishiro angst #nagi angst

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chara-cat5 · 16 hours ago

Text

Lads isekai Au Ch 2

reader is gender neutral, warning: swearing, mdni

chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

you woke to bright sunlight in your eyes. a soft groan escaped your lips as you turned in your bed, tugging your stuffed bear closer to your chest...

wait, bear?

your eyes fluttered open and you were met with the soft faded fur of your lovely snuggle buddy, rupert. but your relief was short lived, your surroundings still very much unfamiliar... looking around the room, it was definitely the guest room mia had sent you to the night before but now it was filled with your stuff. what the hell? a knock at the door startled you from your stupor, mia's voice muffled through the door.

"come onnnnnnn, we're gonna be late for work, sleepyhead!"

you scrambled out of bed, opening the door to find her in her hunter's uniform.

"oh, great, you're up quicker then usual. get dressed and then we can head out, 'kay?"

you blinked at her stupidly as she turned away toward the kitchen. maybe she meant she was gonna check for info on you at work... yeah thats it... you ignored the friendly way she spoke to you compared to last night, stumbling to the bathroom. you ignored the traces of you that had suddenly manifested in the apartment, the way the world had seemed to change over night just so you fit in it's puzzle. it's only after you get to the hunter's hq you finally give into the idea that something was wrong. maybe denial wasn't the best copping mechanism...

you looked at your desk with blank eyes. why did you have a desk? why did you work here? just last night you were a stranger who popped out of a tree and now you were roomies with the mc and also her coworker?? what the fuck?? playing pretend was easy enough for the work. it was just self explanatory paper work. the hard part was keeping up with people who acted like you were long time friends. tara and mia chatted with you like you were an unbeatable trio and you didn't have the will or confidence to argue. something weird was going on and you just rolled with it. don't draw attention to yourself. play the part. at least until you can figure out something to make sense.

you finally got a moment to breath after work. Mia mentioned something about meeting up with someone you couldn't be bothered to listen to. probably one of the men in her harem. you walked yourself back 'home', following the path you took to work. your thoughts were allowed to wander, to take in this crazy scenario. love and deepspace... a game you, for obvious reasons, had considered fiction was now reality. your reality. what did all this even mean? where did you fit in all this? a side character? another tara? you knew waaaaay too much about the love interests for that...

you let out a gasp, nearly dodging a door as it swung open into your path. so much for just mindlessly walking. you scowled as you tilted your head to glare at the person who almost gave you a broken nose, a head full of curly purple hair filling your vision.

"huh?"

he turned his head at the sound, blinking as he met your gaze with those blue-pink eyes of his. shit-

you reacted too slow, forcing your eyes down and moving past him, trying to seem uninterested. you were NOT ready to interact with one of them. you still had thoughts to sort out. feelings to stuff away.

"hey, you're miss bodyguard's roommate."

fuck.

you froze and turned back, meeting his gaze as he stepped closer. it was startling, almost unnerving seeing what had always been on phone right in front of you, his head doing that little tilt down thing. his lips were tilted up in a friendly smile, but it very clearly didn't reach his eyes. eyes that felt like they could see through your skin.

"m-miss bodyguard? am i supposed to know who that is, mister..."

he let out a huff, a pout falling to his lips. ever the expressive one, mr. fishy.

"rafayel. surely she talks about me. amazing, artist friend? she talks about you, roommate."

that gave you pause, a silent debate in your head. maybe talking to him for a little bit wouldn't hurt... it's not like he cared for anyone outside mc. you could understand your position a little better.

"she does? what does she say?"

he smirked at that, a cat like, shit eating grin taking over his lips. crap, that gave away so much!

"well, what does she say about me, Mx roomie?"

you couldn't help the groan that escaped your lips. this man-

"i asked first."

he hummed, stepping up next to you. you fell into step next to him, eyebrows furrowed as you gazed at the side of his stupidly handsome face.

"you asked first but you were also rude first so i think i should get to go first."

"you almost smacked me in the face with a door! how is that not rude?"

he let out a huffed laugh, standing up straight.

"you don't hold back, do you cutie. are you this sassy with everyone?"

"you do NOT get to talk to me about sassiness, mister."

rafayel was actually easy to talk to. you'd think you'd be nervous talking to him. rich artist, human hating lumarian, super handsome guy, but also really funny fishy boy. the two of you fell in to casual banter and before you knew it you reached mia's apartment building... you blinked at it before glancing to him, already spotting the pout on his lips.

"leaving me already? you still haven't shared any secrets about mia."

"guess you'll just have to ask again later."

you spoke before you thought, hands fidgeting with themselves. he raised his eyebrows, tilting his head before nodding. that unreadable look in his eye making your hands sweat.

"sure. i'll get miss bodyguard to bring you to my next art exhibition or something. see ya, cutie."

you watched him go in a daze before making your way inside. welp, guess you're buddies (???) with rafayel now. was that in character for him? he didn't act like you had met before which was a relief. means you don't have to remember an interaction you never participated in. but for someone who is just his precious mc's roommate, he was rather friendly. an act maybe. get on your good side since you're friends with mia. he was after her secrets, he said so himself. thats it.

you sighed as you entered what you were assuming was just now your room, flopping down onto mattress, face down. you rolled over after a moment, the blank ceiling filling your vision.

"okay... what's the plan?"

if you were gonna live here, survive in this world, how were you gonna do it? from mia and tara's conversation earlier, you were up to date on the story, mia having just returned from 'off time'. so you couldn't leverage any of your knowledge of the story to your advantage. but beyond that, what did you want? to survive, yes, but to thrive? and then theres your evol. that was something you would have to figure out too.

you let another sigh, your eyes falling closed as you rolled back over.

your life before too... friends, family. what about them? were they worried? were you dead there? in coma and this is just some crazy dream?

this was giving you a headache. and making you hungry. the kitchen was fancy and high tech. it was rather daunting even thinking about cooking, so you just grabbed a bowl of leftover fried rice from the fridge and hoped mia wouldn't mind. halfway through your meal, mia came home, tossing her bag next to you.

"is that my leftovers?"

you let out a laugh, her silly pout maying you roll your eyes.

"maybe. but i was hungry. you wouldn't want me to starve, would you?"

she sighed dramatically, walking over to you as she shrugged off her belts, tossing them haphazardly on the counter. she hooked her arm over you shoulders, resting her cheek against the side of your head. your shoulders went stiff for a second before you forced them to relax and if she noticed, she didn't say.

"can i at least get a bite? i'm hungry too, ya know..."

you let out a sigh, raising the spoon to her lips. she happily ate it, giving you a squeeze before walking off toward her room.

"i'm gonna go change, then we can watch tv, yeah?"

"sounds good, mia. i'll it set up."

you smiled as she went before moving to the living room. messing around with the remote for the tv, trying to figure out how it worked and then what to watch. once mia came back, in her loungewear, she plopped herself next to you, laying her legs over your lap.

"what is this?"

she gestured to the tv and you just shrugged, looking back to the remote.

"i don't know. i'm trying to figure it-er figure out what to watch still."

she hummed, running her hands through her long, straight hair.

"just go with our usual. they sent out a new episode a few days ago."

you chewed your lip, handing her the remote as you stood up.

"you get it. i'll fix up some popcorn."

you heard her let out a sound of agreement as you walked back to the kitchen, clicking through to what looked like Netflix. making the popcorn was easy enough, a button on a microwave like appliance. you also cut up a pair of apples for the two of you, placing both bowls on the coffee table. mia blinked at the apples, grabbing a slice.

"something healthy too. you can't just eat junk."

he rolled her eyes, putting her legs back in your lap when you sat down.

"okay, caleb."

you snapped your gaze to her at the name, but she didn't notice, busy eating and watching the screen. defiantly up to date. mia wouldn't joke about a dead caleb. but are you supposed to know he's alive?

"i'm just watching out for you. an apple a day keeps the doctor away and all that."

"now you defiantly sound like caleb. trying to keep away dr. zayne? he was always trying to keep him away when we we're kids. speaking of which, let me tell you the shit caleb pulled the other day."

you hummed in response but you were carefully watching her reactions. when she began to openly ramble about him, it became clear you were supposed to know. maybe you two were so close she'd tell you about her boys? it was clear she was comfortable with you, both with her speech and then the skin to skin contact. she also at off your spoon earlier. as you watched her animated expressions and listened to her rant about caleb, it was easy to be drawn in. you knew her story and now, you could know her too. be privy to her kindness, her friendship. being her friend, her supporting character didn't seem so bad. especially if it meant you could help her. lessen her pain for this dark story.

entity [user] encounter entity [rafayel]

affinity level [1]

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tagliat: @sleepisfortheweakpooh @plzdonutpercieveme @young-adult-summer @mentaltrouble2201

first time doing a taglist (open to any who ask :D) so i do not know if i did it right?? i hope i did

thank you for reading!!

-chara <3

#lads #lads mc #lads x reader #love and deepspace #caleb x reader #lads caleb #lads rafayel #lads sylus #lads xavier #rafayel x reader #lads zayne #sylus x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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aastroopheel · 18 hours ago

Note

Plz do another Cook one you write him so well!!

I'd love to see an enemies to lovers kind of thing where reader hates him after they had hooked up at a party a year prior and Cook ghosted her immediately after. She ends up with an arsehole boyfriend that ends up abusing her at a party and Cook walks into the bathroom (in his usual party state, pissed drunk and all) and he finds her crying in the bathroom and sees whats done to her. He tries to act like he doesn't care much for her but deep down he feels protective of her. (And he probably would bash the bf lmao 🙈💗)

Thanks sm!!

Hey babes! Sorry for the wait I had exams to take care of lol (RELEASE ME) (i am finally free so HERE YOU GO)

GOOD PARTIES AND HARD WORDS

You two were definitely NOT on good terms. Actually, there were no terms between you two. He fucked you in some random bathroom at one of the many parties you attended and then…he left, like nothing, like it didn’t even happened.

It was one night. One of those parties: bodies pressed tight, music so loud it made your ribs vibrate, and Cook, wild-eyed and charming in the way that made girls throw themselves at him like it meant something.

You weren’t that girl. Or at least, you told yourself that. But he caught your eye that night, really looked at you, not like everyone else did. Not like a game. Not like a conquest. It felt real, raw, messy. However, later you found out he was just high and horny.

“That was mad, thanks!” and he left you there, panties still undone and your heart still going crazy, your reflection in the bathroom mirror laughing at you.

You didn’t forget though. It wasn’t your first time, thank god, but you did have a crush on him and he just…he was Cook, what were you expecting?

Since then, your paths cross more than you’d like, mutual friends, shared parties, college events. Every time he walks in, your stomach knots. And he? He still acts like the same arrogant, messy boy. But every so often, he watches you when he thinks you’re not looking. Like he wants to say something. Like he regrets it.

He jokes about screwing girls that are his friends when you’re near. No one gets it, they think he’s talking about Effy or even Panda but you know, of course you do.

You took a long drag from your cigarette, the end glowing like the rage bubbling in your chest. The rooftop was cold, but not enough to numb what was clawing its way out of you.

“God, Cook is such a twat.”

Katie snorted. “What’d he do now?”

“What hasn’t he done?” you shot back, gesturing vaguely toward the group of teens sitting behind them where his laugh—loud, obnoxious, way too confident—filled the air. “Honestly, it’s impressive. Like, Olympic-level assholery.”

“You used to like him.”

You raised a brow. “Correction: I liked the idea of him. Briefly. Very briefly. Until he reminded me he’s emotionally unavailable with the maturity level of a feral cat.”

The red headed grinned. “So you’re totally over it?”

You laughed. “Oh, 100 percent. I’ve transcended. I'm on a whole new spiritual plane where Cook doesn’t exist, except when he opens his mouth and reminds me why birth control should be handed out with his name on it.” There was a pause. Then you added, more casually: “But really… imagine shagging someone and then pretending they don’t exist the next day. Like, bold of him to assume I’d be begging for round two.”

The straight twin gave you a look.

“What?” you said, shrugging. “I’m fine. I’m great. I just hate him with the fire of a thousand suns and hope he trips over his own ego someday. That’s all.” You crossed your arms and looked out toward where he was, loud as ever, like nothing could touch him.

And you told yourself again: You don’t care.

“Oi.”

You flinched before you even turned around, that voice had a way of cutting through any noise, somehow always managing to sound like it belonged and didn’t at the same time.

Cook stood a few feet behind you, bottle of something cheap in hand, expression unreadable. His usual swagger was there, chin tilted, eyes heavy-lidded, like he didn’t care. But his jaw was clenched.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Eavesdropping now?”

“Didn’t have to.” He took a sip. “You were basically narrating it to the whole roof.”

Katie suddenly found the sky fascinating and backed away with a mutter, “Gonna go find Effy…”

Now it was just you and him. Again.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said coolly. “It wasn’t about you. It was just… inspired by you.”

He chuckled once, dark and low. “Right. Just casual slander.”

You rolled your eyes again. It seems it was a natural reaction to his presence. “If it was slander, it wouldn’t be true.”

He stepped closer, not close enough to touch, but close enough that you could smell the smoke and whiskey on him. “You’re still pissed.”

“Nope,” you lied, arms crossed. “I’ve evolved, remember? Leveled up. Transcended.”

“You called me a twat,” he reminded you, like that somehow proved he cared.

“You are a twat,” you said, voice calm. “One who thinks ghosting someone after sleeping with them is just part of the Cook Experience™.”

He winced, just a flicker, but you saw it. “I thought—” He paused. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

You scoffed. “Wow. Did you rehearse that apology or is it just naturally that pathetic?”

That one hit. You watched it land.

He looked away for a second, back toward the group, then at you again — a little quieter now. “Look, I’m not good at the whole... aftermath bit. I mess shit up, alright? You’re not the only one I’ve ghosted.”

“Oh, cool,” you snapped. “So it wasn’t personal? Just part of your routine? Great. Really makes me feel special.” You turned to walk off, adrenaline buzzing, but his voice caught you.

“It was personal.”

You froze.

He didn’t move, didn’t step closer — just stood there with his stupid messy hair and his cracked voice and the look of someone who actually gave a shit but didn’t know how to say it.

And that made you even angrier.

You laughed under your breath. “Too little, too late, Cook. Go back to your little crowd. Be loud. Be funny. Be forgettable.”

And with that, you walked away.

You weren’t supposed to be there. You’d told Katie at least five times that you were “definitely staying in tonight”, which was code for lying in bed with cold tea and ignoring texts. But then she showed up at your door with eyeliner, cheap wine, and that look that meant you weren’t winning the argument.

So now you were here, in someone’s too-warm kitchen with music pulsing through the walls and the overwhelming smell of weed and deodorant wafting in from the hallway.

You stood with your back to the fridge, one hand wrapped around a drink you didn’t really want, the other tugging absently at your sleeve. You were zoning out, not at anyone in particular, just… out, when someone bumped your arm.

“Shit- sorry,” came the voice, not aggressive, just surprised. You blinked, pulled yourself back to earth, and turned your head. He wasn’t familiar. Which was rare at these things.

Tall. Dark hair curling just slightly at the ends. A hoodie thrown over what might have once been a school uniform shirt. There was something soft about him, even in the dim kitchen light. The kind of guy who didn’t lean too close, who kept his hands visible like he was careful about taking up space.

He glanced at your cup. “Didn’t spill it, did I?”

You looked down. “Still intact.”

He grinned. “Then I’ve officially done better than last time I tried to pour myself a drink here.”

You gave a quiet laugh, despite yourself. He stuck his hand out. “Matt.”

You hesitated just long enough for him to notice, then shook it. Your name left your lips before you had time to overthink it.

“Nice to meet you, mystery fridge girl,” he said.

You snorted. “Terrible nickname.”

“I know. I panicked. I’m working on it.” There was a pause, but not the awkward kind. More like an exhale. You realized, distantly, that it had been a while since someone new made you feel… not on edge.

He didn’t ask what school you went to. He didn’t scan the room for someone hotter mid-conversation. He didn’t ask to go to a more private room. He asked about your hobbies, your friends, what drink was of your liking, the name of your pet and he even asked for your phone number!

“Alright, you better expect a call from me soon” he told you after his friend came to take him away from you and ‘your fridge’ as he called it. You smiled and he waved goodbye to you until he couldn’t see any more.

The first time Matt kissed you, it was raining.

You didn’t realize how starved you were for simple kindness until it came in the shape of someone like him.

Not the dramatic, rom-com kind, just a fine mist, the kind that made your hair stick to your forehead and your clothes dampen in patches. You were walking home after a late-night convenience store run, a plastic bag swinging between you, filled with biscuits and some terrible energy drink he swore by.

He stopped under the awning of a closed-off bakery and looked at you like it was obvious.

You tilted your head. “What?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. Just… you look like someone I don’t want to stop looking at.”

And then he kissed you. Soft, unsure at first, like he was giving you a chance to back out. You didn’t. It wasn’t fireworks. It wasn’t adrenaline. It was warm.

And warm was what you needed.

He was warm every time after that. He never grabbed. Always asked. He noticed things, when you were too quiet, when you picked at your nails, when you looked at your phone and sighed like the weight of everything was sitting in your chest.

“You overthink too much,” he said one night, tracing circles on your thigh as you lay in his bed, your head tucked under his chin. “You can just be… with me.”

And maybe it was cliché. Maybe he’d said that before to someone else.

But that night, you let yourself believe it.

It started small.

The first time was when you wore that sheer black top to a party.

You’d barely made it past the front door before Matt appeared at your side, his hand gentle on your arm, his voice light but firm.

“You going out dressed like that?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

He smiled, not sweetly, not cruelly. Just… tightly. “Just thought we talked about that one. It’s a bit much, yeah?”

You looked down at yourself. It was nothing you hadn’t worn before. Nothing you hadn’t felt confident in. But suddenly, your skin prickled. You tugged your jacket tighter.

He kissed your cheek. “Didn’t mean to upset you. Just saying. You're better than needing to show off like that.”

You nodded. Even smiled.

He loved you. He just didn’t want other people to look.

The second time, it was about Cook.

Of course it was.

It was after another party, one where Cook had barely even spoken to you. Just nodded across the room, that cocky half-smirk on his lips, like he knew something you didn’t.

You hadn’t even acknowledged him.

But Matt saw.

And the second you stepped outside, his hand found yours — too tight.

“Still into that dickhead?” he asked.

You yanked your hand back, shocked. “What?”

“Cook,” he said, like the name tasted bitter. “You looked at him.”

“I didn’t-” You paused. “Matt, seriously?”

He didn’t yell. He didn’t snap. He just sighed. “I just don’t want to be a joke to you.”

You stared at him. “You’re not.”

He nodded. Kissed your forehead. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

And you didn’t say anything after that.

But you stopped going to parties if you knew Cook would be there.

Just in case.

You still remembered how he could be soft.

Like when he rubbed your back while you cried after failing that exam. Or when he biked twenty minutes to your house because you texted, I just don’t want to be alone right now, and he was there before you’d even closed your phone.

It made the cold moments harder to hold against him. Because he could be warm. He was good. Most of the time.

And when he wasn’t…well, maybe you just said the wrong thing. Or looked at the wrong person. Or wore the wrong shirt. Or stayed quiet when he needed you loud. He didn’t hurt you. He just… made you feel like you could hurt him, if you weren’t careful. And that made you careful. All the time.

The vibration of your phone cuts through the quiet. You glance at the screen. It’s a message from Katie.

Party tonight at Nate’s. You’re coming, yeah?

You hesitate. You’re curled on the couch, legs tucked under you, your phone clutched tight. From the kitchen, Matt is rummaging through drawers, swearing under his breath about something insignificant, again.

Dunno. Might be staying in.

Katie replies in under ten seconds.

Babe. Don’t do this again.You haven’t been out in weeks.

Before you can type a reply, your screen lights up: Incoming call from Katie.

You answer in a whisper. “Hey.”

Her voice is all brightness at the surface, but there’s an edge underneath. “Please don’t tell me Matt’s got you locked down again.”

“It’s not like that,” you say automatically. Too fast.

“Mmm,” she says. “Sure.” There’s a beat of silence. You pick at a loose thread on your hoodie sleeve.

“He just… doesn’t love parties. Says they’re full of idiots. And I went to the last one without him and he-” You stop. You’ve said too much.

Katie doesn’t miss a thing. “And he what?”

“Nothing. It was stupid.”

“Is he watching you right now?”

“No,” you sigh. From the kitchen, a cabinet slams. You flinch. “I just don’t want to fight tonight,” you add, softer now.

Katie’s voice softens too but it still cuts. “You wouldn’t need to fight if you were with someone who actually respected you.” Silence. The heavy, guilty kind. “Look,” she says, gentler now, “you don’t have to drink. Or dance. Or even talk to anyone. Just come. Be around people who love you. Remember who you are.”

You swallow hard. Your eyes sting unexpectedly. “I don’t know if he’ll let me,” you whisper — and immediately hate yourself for the wording. Let me.

Katie doesn’t say anything at first. But when she does, her voice is quiet, heavy. “That’s not love, babe. That’s a cage.” You can’t speak. You just sit there, staring at the floor. “I’ll send you the address,” she says. “I’ll be waiting outside. One hour.”

The call ends.

You stare at your screen. The text with the party info buzzes in seconds later. Your thumb hovers above it. The kitchen has gone silent. You hear Matt’s footsteps getting closer.

You lock the phone, shove it under a pillow, and paste on a smile. He walks in from the kitchen, two beers in hand. That familiar grin on his face, all charm, all ease, but you can already feel it: the weight of his gaze scanning you like a spotlight.

“Who were you talking to?” he asks casually, settling beside you.

Your throat tightens. “Katie.”

He hums like the name itself is a warning.

“What’d she want?”

“Party invite,” you say, eyes flicking toward the muted TV.

He hands you a bottle, pops open his own with a hiss. “You told her no, right?” It’s not a question. Not really.

“Yeah,” you lie. “Of course.”

He leans in, kisses your temple, and murmurs, “Good girl.” The conversation’s over. But your heartbeat doesn’t calm. Not even close.

Later, he’s passed out next to you, one arm thrown across your ribs like a lock. His breath is heavy with beer. His weight anchors you to the bed. You lie there staring at the ceiling, chest tight, jaw locked. Then, carefully, you slide out from under his arm like you’re escaping something dangerous. Because you are.

He mumbles something. Your heart skips. But he rolls over and starts snoring.

You dress in silence. A loose t-shirt. Jeans. A flick of eyeliner, not too much. Just enough to feel a little more like yourself.

You check your phone.

Outside. I’ve got shots and zero judgment. —Katie

A small, shaky smile tugs at your mouth. You slip out the front door without a sound.

Nate’s place is alive when you arrive. Lights glowing behind the windows, music pulsing through the floor. The kind of night that swallows you whole.

Katie finds you in seconds. Arms wide. Grinning. “There you are,” she breathes, pulling you into a hug that squeezes the tension from your bones. “You look like shit. In a cute way.”

You laugh. And it feels strange but good. Like remembering an old language.

The night unfolds around you like something you almost forgot existed. Drinks are pressed into your hand. Compliments. Faces you recognize. People who don’t ask you to apologize for existing.

You dance. You smile. You breathe. And for a little while, maybe longer, you forget Matt even exists.

Until you see him.

He’s there, leaning against the hallway wall near the stairs. Arms crossed. Gaze fixed on you like you were never really out of his sight.

He doesn’t look angry. That’s worse. He looks calm.

“Hey,” he says, as if you just bumped into each other at the grocery store.

Your smile vanishes. “What are you doing here?”

He pushes off the wall, all smoothness. “Funny. Was gonna ask you the same thing.”

Your pulse spikes. You turn to leave.

But he’s already at your side, fingers looping around your wrist — not bruising, not rough. Just… firm. Too firm.

“We need to talk.”

“Not here,” you whisper, eyes darting around. No one’s looking. No one sees or at least that’s what you think.

There’s a pair of blue eyes on you. Always.

He doesn’t wait for an answer. The bathroom door creaks open. He pulls you in. Clicks the lock. The sound is deafening.

“What the hell, Matt?”

“You lied to me,” he says. Still calm. Still smiling. “You looked me in the face and said you weren’t going. And yet…”

“I just wanted to go out,” you say, breath shallow. “You were asleep.”

He laughs. But it’s empty. “I’m asleep for one hour and suddenly you’re off playing single. Dressed like that. Grinding on strangers.”

“I wasn’t- Matt, I didn’t do anything” You say as if you were defending yourself to the cops.

He steps closer. The air changes.

“You think I’m stupid?”

“No, I- please, I’m not-” your words choke you, his gaze is drowning you.

“You’re making me look like a fucking mug in front of everyone,” he hisses, heat rising in his voice now. “You want them thinking you’re available? You want someone else to take you home?”

“I never said that,” you plead, your voice cracking. “You’re twisting it-”

He takes another step. Your back hits the sink. Nowhere to go.

“You lied,” he growls. “You lied to me. And you let her poison your head. Katie’s been whispering shit for weeks.”

“Stop,” you whisper. You push at his chest but he doesn’t budge.

“You were mine,” he says. Voice trembling now, like he’s the one breaking. “And you threw it all away for one night.”

Then he lifts a hand, you flinch but the slap hits you anyway. You gasp as you touch your –now read and stinging— cheek. Your eyes burn. Your breath turns shallow. Panic coils in your chest.

He stares down at you, he is furious, jealous. You beg him but soon his hands are on you, he kisses you roughly as if he was apologising but for you he was just making it worse. You move your head away from his and he grabs it to kiss you again. He bites your lip so you open your mouth and he can get his tongue inside of it.

“Stop it” he almost growls in your mouth. “Stop fucking crying!” he shouts and you sob, your hands clinging on his jumper. He looks at them and then at you and he sees a crying mess with her lip bleeding and her left cheek red and swollen. He sighs and steps back to give you some space. “Listen, I’m going to get a beer and then we’ll leave. You hear me?” You say nothing “I’ll take that as a yes. Fix your face before coming down, I don’t need any more attention to you”

The door slams shut behind him, and the bathroom feels too small, too quiet. You slide to the cold tile floor, arms over your head, hands trembling.

“Fucking idiot,” you whisper to yourself, the words heavy with salt and shame. Because how the fuck didn’t you see this coming? How many excuses had you made for him? How many times had you lied to your friends, to yourself, pretending it wasn’t this bad?

Your cheek still stings. Your lip’s throbbing now, the metallic taste of blood sticking to your teeth. You breathe in too fast and it hitches, comes out as a sob.

A knock, no, more like a bang, hits the door a minute later. Then a twist of the handle. You freeze.

“Bathroom’s in use!” you shout from outside, annoyed. Another rattle. Then the sound of the lock being picked.

Your heart spikes — what if it’s Matt again?

But when the door swings open, it’s not him.

It’s Cook.

Half-drunk, eyes red, jacket hanging off one shoulder like it always is. A bottle in one hand. He stumbles slightly, then catches himself. His mouth opens with a cocky line already forming.

Then he sees you. Everything changes. He goes still. Completely still.

His gaze drops to your face. The cheek. The blood on your lip. Your puffy eyes. The bottle in his hand lowers slowly. “What the fuck,” he mutters, voice suddenly raw.

You flinch. Try to wipe your face. Look away. “Get out,” you whisper. “I don’t want anyone seeing me like this.”

“You think I give a fuck what you want right now?” he snaps, not cruel, not angry, but furious in a different way. Furious for you. “What the hell happened?”

You shake your head. “Doesn’t matter.”

His eyes darken. “It was him, wasn’t it?” You don’t answer. But that’s answer enough. Cook’s jaw tightens. His fists ball. He looks like he might tear the walls down with his bare hands.

You close your eyes. “Please. Just… don’t. I can’t handle you being a dick on top of everything else.”

“I’m not gonna be a dick,” he says, and his voice has dropped again. This time softer. Wounded, almost. “Not to you. Not right now.” A long pause. Then, quieter: “I didn’t know he was like that.”

“Yeah,” you breathe, bitter. “Neither did I.”

Cook crouches slowly in front of you. Not touching. Not even reaching. Just… there.

“I’m gonna kill him,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

You laugh. Or maybe sob. It’s a broken sound either way. “Bit late for that, Cook.”

He looks at you then, really looks. And suddenly there’s nothing reckless in his eyes. No party-boy shine. Just something fierce. Protective.

“I didn’t mean to leave you like that,” he says. “That night. After the party. I should’ve called you. Texted. Anything.” You don’t say anything. You can’t trust yourself to. “Let me help now,” he says. “Please.”

That word hits harder than anything else: please. He’s still crouched in front of you, waiting. No rush. No pressure. Just there. Like he’s not moving unless you say so.

“Help me how?” you ask him, he is staring at you with dizzy eyes and a scowl on his face. “You’re not- you are too wasted to do something for me”

He shakes his head, disagreeing with your words. “I can do what I’m best at” You look at him with a brow raised. “I can ruin his night” He has that devilish expression on his face as he moves his feet closer to yours, touching the front of your shoes with his dirty ones. You look there and then back at his face and somehow he does look like he means it. Like he wants to help you. “I’ll call Katie for you and then I’ll do my part of the plan”

“What plan?” You watch him get up.

“I already told you” He rolls his eyes, steading himself on the wall. “I’m fucking ruining that motherfucker night” His words don’t really uh…form? or at least for you because he just mumbles them before getting out of the bathroom.

Cook slams the bathroom door behind him, jaw tight, breath ragged. His fists are still shaking. He can feel your broken voice still echoing in his ears, feel the heat off your cheek like it’s burning into him instead.

That prick put his hands on you.

He charges down the stairs, pushing past a couple making out on the landing, past music and bodies and noise, all of it blurred, all of it background now.

He needs to find Katie.

It doesn’t take long. She’s near the kitchen, laughing at something some guy just said, drink in hand. But as soon as she sees Cook storming toward her, that laugh dies instantly.

“Where is he?” Cook growls.

“Where’s who?” Katie frowns, eyes scanning him.

“Matt.”

Her expression shifts. Sharp. Focused. “Why?”

Cook doesn’t answer right away, just runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to keep himself from exploding. Then he steps closer, so only she can hear.

“He hit her.”

Katie goes completely still. “What?” she says, voice quiet, deadly.

“In the bathroom,” Cook mutters, glancing back over his shoulder. “I found her on the fuckin’ floor, Katie. Cryin’. Cheek red, lip split. Said he slapped her. Tried- tried to force himself on her. She told him to stop and he didn’t listen.”

Katie’s jaw clenches so tight her teeth grind. The plastic cup in her hand cracks a little under the pressure of her grip. “Where is she now?” she says, already moving.

“Still in the bathroom. Locked it behind me. Didn’t want anyone to see her like that.”

Katie’s eyes flicker with something dangerous. Protective. Almost maternal. “I’ll go to her.” Cook nods once, and steps back.Then she grabs his arm. “And you?”

His voice is low, lethal. “Gonna find that cunt.”

Katie doesn’t try to stop him. She just looks at him, something fierce behind her eyes. “Don’t hold back.”

“I won’t.”

And with that, they part ways. Katie disappearing back up the stairs like a bullet, and Cook storming through the crowd, fists already clenching, gaze burning like a lit fuse, ready to find Matt.

The door rattles gently. Your head jerks up.

“It’s me,” Katie’s voice says, soft through the wood. “It’s just me. Open up, babe.”

You hesitate. The idea of anyone seeing you like this, puffy eyes, trembling hands, lip bloodied, it feels unbearable.

But it’s Katie, your best friend. And you can’t hold this alone anymore.

You reach up, unlock the door. She pushes in carefully, slowly, like she’s afraid you’ll break if she moves too fast. Her eyes find your face, her breath catches. A hand flies to her mouth.

“Oh, my god…”

You look down. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Katie’s already on her knees beside you, wrapping her arms around you without hesitation. “No. Don’t. Don’t shrink like that. This isn’t on you.” You sob into her shoulder, and she holds tighter. “Cook told me,” she whispers. “He’s going after him.”

You lift your head, heart skipping. “No, no- he’ll- Matt’s gonna lose it, he-”

“Good,” Katie says, fierce. “Let him.” She pulls back just enough to look at you, hands framing your face so gently it makes your chest ache. “Listen to me. You’re not alone anymore. You hear me? You’re not.”

Cook’s heart is still thudding from the bathroom. He doesn’t care who sees him now. He barrels through the crowd, eyes locked on one thing: Matt.

Matt’s still by the kitchen, casually chatting like nothing happened. Drink in one hand, leaning back against the counter like he owns the place.

Cook wants to take a shot and then shoot that stupid cunt. But he won’t, he knows you wouldn’t want to see him in jail..again. He pushes past two people and grabs Matt’s shirt with both hands, slamming him hard against the cabinets. Bottles clatter. A girl nearby screams.

“The fuck did you just do?” Cook spits, nose inches from Matt’s.

Matt stumbles, confused, caught off guard. “What are you-?”

Cook doesn’t wait. He swings. The punch lands hard, right across Matt’s cheekbone. The same place he had slapped you. He crashes sideways into the counter, groaning. Beer spills, glass shatters. The music dips for a second, just long enough for people to realize something’s happening.

Matt tries to recover, shaking it off, but Cook’s already in his face again.

“You laid your fuckin’ hands on her?”

Matt coughs, tries to shove Cook off. “You don’t know what she-”

Cook shoves him again, harder this time. “She was crying on the floor! You think that makes you a man, yeah?”

Matt swings this time, a clumsy, panicked jab. It grazes Cook’s jaw, barely. But Cook sees red now. He lunges, grabs Matt’s hoodie, drives him back against the fridge.

“Touch her again and I’ll put you in the ground,” Cook hisses through gritted teeth Now people are really watching. Someone yells for Nate.

A pair of arms grab Cook from behind, pulling him off. “That’s enough, mate!”

Cook resists, trying to break free. “Let me go!” Matt slumps against the fridge, panting, face red and lip busted. He wipes his mouth, eyes darting nervously.

“She lied to me,” he mumbles. “She fucking… she fucking used me!”

Cook’s voice is deadly calm now. “Are you victimizing yourself right now?” Matt opens his mouth, but Cook just shakes his head. “Nah. Don’t. You’ve said enough.”

Cook yanks himself free from the arms holding him and turns toward the stairs, toward you jaw tight, knuckles raw. Someone mutters, “Jesus, what the fuck happened?”

But Cook doesn’t look back.

“I’ll be right behind that door, oaky?” Katie smiles softly at you before she walks by Cook. “Behave yourself” Cook winks at her and closes the door softly .It’s quieter up here, away from the chaos of the party. Just the muffled thump of bass through the walls, far away now.

You sit down on the edge of the bed slowly. Not because you want to, but because your legs feel like they’re giving out. The ache in your cheek is sharp now. Your lip stings every time you move your mouth.

Cook stands near the door. Still. Like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to come any closer. You don’t look at him. You stare down at your hands, knotted together in your lap.

“I know you don’t like violence but he deserved it,” he says finally. His voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard it.

You swallow, barely nodding. “I know.”

He runs a hand down his face, rough. “Listen, what he did….” That makes you look up. He catches it, shakes his head. “You didn’t deserve any of it.”

Silence.

“I thought you didn’t care about me anymore,” you say. It comes out smaller than you mean it to.

He huffs, almost a laugh but there's no humour in it. “Yeah, well. Thought ignoring you would make it easier.” He shrugs, still not moving. “Didn’t.”

You meet his eyes.

There’s something new there. Still wild. Still restless. But softer, somehow. Guilt around the edges.

He finally steps forward, slow like he’s walking up to a ledge. He crouches in front of you, hands on his knees, but doesn’t touch you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, low. “About before. That night. After.”

You nod, just a little, but it’s too much. You look away quickly. “I don’t know why I let it happen,” you whisper, voice tight. “Matt. All of it. I thought he loved me.”

Cook is quiet for a long moment.

“You’re not stupid, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he says. “He’s just good at acting like a decent person until he’s not.”

Your throat clenches. “He told me no one else would want me. Not really.”

He exhales hard. “Then he’s a bigger fucking idiot than I thought.”

You manage a shaky breath.

“I would’ve wanted you,” he says, softer now. “I mean. I did. I do. Just didn’t know how to be… enough, I guess.”

You finally look at him. His face is all sharp edges and shadows. But his eyes, they’re open now. Unhidden.

He stands slowly, offering you a hand.

You hesitate.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he adds. “Just… let me get you out of here.”

You take his hand.

“Didn’t know you were this nice” you joked.

It’s warm. Solid. The first safe thing you’ve felt in weeks.

“It’s probably the vodka in me” He says back to you with his usual smirk.

He doesn’t let go.

I think this is the longest i've ever written lol.

Let me know what you think!!!

Bye bye queen

#jack oconnell #james cook x reader #james cook #skins #skins uk #skins x reader

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