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reveluving · 11 months ago

Note

Phillip Graves getting jealous because his shy wife is getting flirted on by someone else but she doesn't know how to respond?? Yes please!!

(could be sfw at first but when they get back home graves pounds his wife against any surface he sees because he can't stand seeing his wife getting flirted on right in front of him)

YUUUUH I HAVE JUST THE THING!! I know, it's been AGES with these, and this one from last year but I still hope you like it! and I know you said doing the nasty back home, but I thought "man, I'm already here. might as well!" and filthy-ize(???) it even more for good measure 😘💗

Includes; soft (& slightly mean dom) & possessive graves, fingerf~cking, unprotected sex (p in v), petnames ('sugar', 'pretty girl'), licking, biting & marking, praising, dirty talking, mentions of voyeurism & exhibitionism!!

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

It happens.

A lot.

The library, your favourite diner, your flower shop—anywhere.

It happens more than you can imagine, but with Phil around, it’s mostly from afar. The kind where they could only dream about making a move on you, if not for the guard dog with the sharp tongue.

Hence, when he’s not around, he worries a little for you, but he knows you can protect yourself when needed, thanks to the self-defence lessons he has given you when you were still dating.

So, imagine the unlucky bastard who thought it was a good idea to take advantage of your gracious hospitality, not knowing your husband was around.

It happened when he had finished work, but instead of heading home, he took the route where your flower shop was. Closing time was ten minutes ago so he knew you’d be waiting for him at the cafe next door, probably nursing a cup of your favourite drink or nibbling on a pastry.

He hated it whenever he couldn’t reach you on the dot or before, no matter how many times you’ve reassured him.

Reaching the neighbourhood shops was like a breath of fresh air, enjoying the sense of familiarity and the breeze as he turned the corner, passing by the cafe first.

But with a glance, his brows furrowed, seeing that you were nowhere in sight. He quickly took it as a sign that you were still working, though a thirty-minute overtime was almost uncommon of you.

He parked his convertible close to the entrance of your shop but still out of view, and for a brief moment, he caught sight of you through the window.

And just his mood lifted, ready to greet you with open arms, his smile dropped.

You were dealing with a customer, a man likely in his 30s and dressed, well, if one were told to dress formally, and they did it haphazardly, then that was exactly what it was. His body language was a little awkward, almost unsure what pose may look alluring in your eyes.

Though Phil had a knack for judging certain people by their looks, if and only if their personality rubbed him the wrong way, he didn’t have an issue thinking of the worst insults about the man, if not for the uncomfortable smile on your face.

So, leaning against the wall, away from you or the man’s sight, he listened in.

“So, your husband’s in the military, huh?” He asked, but Phil wasn’t dumb enough to think it wasn’t a sneer in disguise. Probably thought he held some rookie position, “Must be hard not having someone to hold to every night.”

Phil didn’t bother hiding the scornful look on his face.

“It’s not bad,” He immediately perked up at the sound of your voice. The gentle sound that could heal even his worst wounds, “He finds time to check up on me.”

Whether or not you were telling the truth or if you were downplaying your thoughts if his absence really did bother you, he’ll ask you later, but for now, he wanted to tell you how proud he was. Not letting some schmuck stick their nose in someone else’s business, and your marriage, no less.

“Well, sure, but look at you! I don’t know about you but if I had a girl like you? Shoot, I don’t I’d ever get any work done,” The audacity. Phil’s jaw tightened, listening to him weakly defend himself when you didn’t respond, undoubtedly displeased by his unnecessary opinion, “But that’s just me, y’know.”

“Right, um,” You turned to the row of flower pots, using the second to roll your eyes to the back of your head before showing him the bunch of bluebells in your hands, “How about some bluebells?”

The man pretended to think, “Nah, I mean, they’re cute but I’m looking for something… more,” He then leaned in, resting his arm on the counter, “A little bland, if I’m being honest with you.”

You forced a smile, but Phil, oh Phil.

He wasn’t smiling.

Who was this man, no, who was this kid to not see how uncomfortable you were with his god-awful ‘flirting’ skills and judge your taste in your very own store?

“That’s fine, I’m sure we can find something else.” Oh, that pitiful tone of yours. Just how long has this man been bothering you?

You bit down a sigh, placing the bluebells back into their pot before walking back to the back of the counter. You knelt, possibly looking for something else, though Phil wouldn’t blame you if you were doing so to drown him out for a bit.

Phil had listened long enough. Moving off the wall, he clicked on the lock button of his car keys. He spun his keys on his finger as he entered the shop, the rattling sounds prompted the man to follow his figure. His eyebrows knitted further, more so when Phil casually stopped right in front of the counter as if used to coming over.

His eyes darted from Phil’s attire; simple yet sophisticated, and how he carried himself, then the convertible behind him. The sudden insecurity forming in the guy’s mind was a no-brainer.

You must’ve heard the extra pair of footsteps and the keys, “I’ll be right with you!”

He didn’t respond, opting to eye the man—Chad, which he would later learn—with full of judgement. The latter flinched when their eyes met, though he tried to act cool soon by clearing his throat.

But the stare may have been too much for him, as he asked, his voice less confident than before, “Do I know you?”

“You tell me.” He responded loud enough for you to hear, and just as he hoped, you straightened, visibly lighting up at the sight of him.

“Phil!” You cheered, already forgetting about the customer as you rushed over to your husband for a hug, “I thought you wouldn’t be back until tonight?”

He shrugged, wrapping one of his arms around you while he caressed the apple of your cheek with his free hand, “Change o’plans. Drove here as fast as I could.” He gave you a lazy smile, more so when you jutted out your bottom lip, pouting at his statement.

“Phil, you know how I feel about you speeding home,” You sighed, despite leaning into his touch, “But I’m glad you’re back. Safe.”

You couldn’t stay mad at him, not with that cheeky smile of his before he pressed his lips onto yours. You could feel the upturn of his lips when you yelped, and he didn’t even bother hiding his amusement—his delighted huff when you returned the kiss.

But before he could feel you, before he could melt into your hands as they held his face, you broke the kiss, almost hiding in his chest for a moment before motioning to the man watching—his face that of panicked realization.

“Phil—Customer…”

Ew.

Well, at least he learnt he had messed with the wrong married woman.

Phil suddenly grinned, and a painfully fake one, judging by the lack of positive emotion, or any emotion in his eyes as he looked at Chad.

“Y’here for an arrangement?”

“U–Uh, no. I’m just… looking around. Thinking of buying one for my, uh, girl.”

The man wasn’t dumb enough to think the smirk on Graves’ face wasn’t the face of mockery. A man who has done enough interrogations to know just how much he was bullshitting.

“Huh, Y’must be lookin’ for a special one if you’re makin’ my girl workin’ overtime,” He glanced at the clock just hanging by the door, his arm not leaving you once, “Y’sleepin’ in the dog house or somethin’?”

“Phil.” You hissed, and ever so cutely, might your husband add. You briefly apologised to Chad, even if you wanted nothing more than to send him on his way.

“Sorry, sorry,” If you noticed his lack of sincerity, you didn't call him out on it. Graves held his hand out, the corner of his lips twitched when Chad took a step back, “Graves. Commander and CEO. Proud husband of this pretty girl right here.”

Chad accepted, albeit hesitantly, nearly squawking when Phil purposely squeezed his hand. He had a feeling he wouldn't mind breaking his arm if it weren't for the obvious repercussions and well, you being there.

“Mr Thompson was just looking for a bouquet for his girlfriend. It might take a minute so you can hang around for a bit while I help him.” You explained, standing close to your husband, now that he was with you.

“Or,” Phil spoke, and you should’ve suspected something was up just by his tone, despite his so-called generous offer, “I help him look for what he needs, while you go ahead and close up, get your bag, lock the back room and all.”

You raised your brows, “Phil, are you sure?”

He hummed, “C’mon. ‘Bout time I put my flower knowledge into good use. And who knows?” He glanced at Chad, sharply. With his eyes on the unwanted customer, he leaned to your side, as if whispering, despite making sure Chad heard him loud and clear, “It’s probably nothin’ more than a lil’ trouble in paradise. Nothin’ I can’t sort out, man to man.”

You thought for a moment. You had your suspicions when Chad stopped by the same time your shift ended. And while you wouldn’t have minded, he wasn’t exactly helpful about his request either. Giving you doubtful answers such as his supposed girlfriend’s favourite colour or the occasion.

Plus, you were a little eager to be away from Chad, even for a short while.

In the end, you nodded, much to Chad’s horror.

“Okay, I just need to organize a few boxes in the back,” You squeezed Phil's arm, “Thank you. I won’t take long.”

Sliding his hand down your arm, he raised your hand to his lips before letting you go.

“Take all the time y’need, pretty girl,” And as soon as you were out of sight, his voice dropped, the upturn of his lips now in a manner that Chad knew this was going to be anything but a quick talk amongst men about which apology flowers were the best, “Take all the time y’need.”

His smile was nowhere to be seen as he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched Chad pinching a leaf of random flower in the guise of interest.

But by the third flower, Graves had enough, surprising Chad with his authoritative tone.

“Y’just gonna stand there and ruin my wife’s flowers or are y’goin’ to buy somethin’ and get out?”

“I’m…” Chad began but Phil didn’t give him the satisfaction to explain himself. He didn’t need to.

“Look. I’m really fuckin’ tired, and my girl is, too, but I’m sure you’re too busy trying to look down her dress to notice that.”

“That’s—”

“Cut,” He didn’t even need to raise a single finger as the tone he normally used on his team on a bad or serious day was enough to shut the man up, “... the bullshit, alright? Y’can buy all the flowers you want to impress her, save a puppy as soon as you see her coincidentally walk by at the park. Fuckin’ pick-me.”

The impatient smile plastered on his face told Chad everything about the commander’s patience.

“I know a degenerate when I see one.” Chad knew not to trust how calm Phil sounded, “And I know she can defend herself just fine. Hell, I taught her everything she needs to know t’deal with boys like you. But I can tell y’one thing; I’ll do so much worse than what she’s already capable of.”

Graves’ heavy footsteps sounded like a disaster waiting to happen in mere seconds before he stood in the middle of the shop.

“Might wanna get out while y’can.” He gritted out, and Chad didn’t waste a second to find out what would’ve happened if he didn’t that very instance, whether it was from you or your husband.

You returned just in time to find Graves appreciating the tulips, though, unbeknownst to you, he was also slightly miffed that some were stained by Chad’s hands alone.

“Oh, did he find what he needed?”

“‘Guess so. Took off as soon as he figured it out. He didn’t buy anythin’ though,” He swiftly carried the bag for you, pulling you in for a kiss on your forehead, “Sorry he wasted y’time.”

“That’s alright,” You grinning, not expecting him to apologize over that, “I just need to keep the flowers in the back. Mind helping me?”

Of course he didn't mind.

He moved with you, carrying much more stock to the cool room where the unsold flowers were kept. During his second run, he lightly tapped you on the ass, stealing a kiss before telling you to lock the register instead. You did just that, carefully organizing the cash and coins before locking it.

Phil worked with ease, pushing necessary pots and displays to one side and pulling the blinds down like the tasks were at the back of his hand. But he didn’t draw the blinds close all the way, though, leaving a small opening at the bottom of the windows where you and Graves could see the sun shining through and the feet of passers-by.

But unbeknownst to you, he locked the front door and with great care, avoided the usual click.

He shamelessly glanced at you at every possible moment, watching you sit prettily as you focused on your task behind the counter.

Once his side was done, he approached you, stannding in between your legs as soon as you locked the register.

“All done.” You smiled, crinkles forming in your eyes.

“Perfect.” He opened up his arms, closing the space in between as you embraced. But just as you basked in the wholesome reunion, you froze up, eyes wide at a familiar tent prodding your stomach. He didn't bother concealing his amusement, his smile grew at your giggles, showering one side of your face with kisses to hear more of you.

“Thought he'd never leave.” He murmured against your skin with zero shame, which prompted you to pull back.

“You threw him out?” You asked in disbelief.

“He threw himself out,” He shrugged, not exactly lying but telling you the whole truth either. He cooed at your little frown, even holding his hand up in a saluting manner, “I’m serious. Scout's honour.”

“Were you even a scout?”

“Nope,” He responded without missing a beat, “But I do know how to tie a knot.”

“Phil!” You smacked his arm, but it did nothing to deter him, “I wasn't even gone that long.”

“Four minutes was all I needed.” He brushed his nose against your neck, looping his arms around you. You couldn't help but melt, sighing but more so in contentment than disappointment. Granted, you were anything but the latter, but who knows where your business would be if Phil did, well, whatever to your customers the way he did to Chad.

“He was bothering ya.” You knew it wasn't a question and there was no point denying it, so you hummed in confirmation.

“Kinda figure that out after a while,” You shrugged, though you didn't want him to worry either, “I, uh, had my suspicion as soon as I asked him what he was looking for.”

“Yeah? What did he really tell ya?”

“Just said he wanted some pretty flowers for a pretty lady, and then,” You mimicked the awkward eyebrow-wiggles he did to you, much to Phil’s amusement and disdain, “And then said no to all of my suggestions.”

Phil’s tutting was akin to a Southern mother's, being his blood and all. That, and he was having second-hand embarrassment—to think Chad thought he'd have a chance using that line on you.

Hell, on anyone.

“It was getting a little embarrassing, honestly.” You couldn't help but snort, only for your smile to grow when he, too, expressed his amusement.

‘A little’ was putting it lightly.

“You and me, sugar.”

You leaned your weight against him just as he did against the counter, figuring that this was one of those days where he needed to just relax. Be around you as if you exuded great energy, and in his eyes, you were.

A far cry from the more despicable chaos he and his partnering team have to deal with for a living.

You brushed your fingers along his stubble, smiling to yourself at the familiar, prickly sensation. Ever the perceptive man, he angled his face so your lips were pressed on his instead of his cheek.

It was much needed for the both of you as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Though, you tried not to go too far with it, your nerves rising as your eyes flitted to the door, despite Phil’s breathy reassurance that he locked it.

Noticing your hesitance, he broke the kiss to rest his head in the crook of your neck. His warm breath tickled you, more so when his hands languidly moved up and down your body.

But then, his hands didn't stop moving upwards.

He swiftly pulled down the straps of your dress, trailing his lips along your shoulder. Though the dress wasn't fully removed, the way you haphazardly held the front of it against your chest, amplifying your cleavage which was just as alluring as you were topless.

“Phil!” You choked out, and yet, he continued. Licking across your newly exposed skin with the tip of his tongue. Starting from the collarbone, down to your tits when he squeezed your breasts together, and then, sucking on the plush at random spots. Eager to leave a mark wherever he could with shameless sounds of suckling and pops, “Here?!”

If the way your hand shot up to his hair, massaging his scalp and pulling his head close instead of pushing him away was anything to go by, he knew dead set on making you scream.

He took a step back, encouraging you to stand up before hooking his arms under your ass, lifting you effortlessly to seat you on the counter.

His bulge was snug against you, thanks to his taller stature. The way his hands slid down your thighs prompted you to wrap your legs around him, despite the growing warmth in your face at the lewd display. There was something about the sliver of possibility of being watched that raised both your worries and anticipation, despite the opaqueness of the cream-coloured window blinds.

Plus, the shop wasn't exactly soundproof either.

He leaned forward, forcing you to lie back on the surface. His lips hadn't slowed down since, enjoying your squirms and breathless moans as he peppered your neck in kisses before raising his head.

“My wife's a beaut, isn't she?” He whispered against your temple, rolling one of your tits in between his fingers before sliding his hand down to your thigh, squeezing the plush of it, “Got these boys actin’ stupid around ya.”

You gasped when his hand slid further under your skirt. He toyed with the waistband of your panties, teasingly pulling them up and wedging the lacy material in between your sopping pussy.

“Even I can't resist her sweet lil’ charm,” He purred, pulling your panties to the side and then bunching the hem of your dress for him to delight in all its glory, “Y’know that, don't cha?”

He swiped two of his fingers across your lips. Even the softest touch elicited the most delicious squelch he had ever heard.

He hummed in approval, teasing you to his heart's delight, “But she's also so, so dirty, deep down,” He made sure you made the slightest mess, letting your juices drip bit by bit, down to your tight hole and the counter itself, “And this—this is only f’me to see, right, pretty girl?’

He captured your lips with his before you could even muster out a breathless ‘yes’, the kiss ending just as quickly as it happened before tapping your lips with his fingers.

You didn't need to be told, but that didn't mean it was any less embarrassing. But his approving hum at your first, kitten-like lick was encouraging. It had you chasing after his praises, verbal or otherwise.

His cock was downright throbbing, wishing it was his cock you were eagerly drooling on instead of his fingers, but who was he to say he wasn't enjoying the view in hand either?

Once he was sure they were wet enough, he slid them out of your mouth, crudely enjoying the string of saliva for a second before dropping his fingers to your cunt.

He mirrored your parted lips, watching your face scrunch up as he eased in one finger. Your whimper was pitiful, and the slightly wicked side of him couldn’t help but coo at you almost condescendingly, knowing you could handle something much bigger than his mere finger, even if they were much thicker than yours.

He set a torturing pace, taking in the way your body moved, rolling your hips in hopes you’d have his fingers knuckles-deep in you. The way you half-heartedly covered your face with one hand was endearing, probably too overwhelmed by his unapologetic stare.

Then, he cranked up the speed with two fingers, greedy for more of your juices leaking out each time he moved in and out. And by the time you were clenching around three fingers, he was ruthless with his pace.

Unforgiving.

He looked euphoric just from bringing the pleasure to you, tipping his head back as he listened to you struggling to hold back your moans and whines whenever he pulled out to tease and slap at your clit.

“Colour?” As casual as he tried to sound, he was just as breathless as you were.

“Green…” You whined, pleading him to continue, even if it felt like you were overstimulating, “Phil, please… Please…!”

You didn’t have to repeat, for he amped up his pace and chased after the climax when the pitch of your voice heightened, arching your back like you weren’t sure if you wanted him to carry on or push him away when you were getting close.

He didn’t falter, nipping on your shoulder just a tad harder just before you trembled, cumming and clenching hard around his fingers. He cupped your face with his other hand, soothing you from your high with praises and kisses.

“Such a good girl, my good girl. Always so brave f’me, makin’ the sweetest faces. None of those boys gets t’see what I see.”

It wasn’t long before he carefully slid his fingers out, comforting you each time you whimpered or twitched.

Opting to continue caressing your face, he took the chance to snag a taste of you. Savouring the one taste he had been dying for each time he was away for work.

But he didn’t finish it all. As much as he wanted to, he needed to save the rest for his cock, itching to have a mere feel of your wetness.

Speaking of, he was straining, standing proud and curved a little as the tip, just a hint of red, nearly touched his belly button as soon as he pulled his trousers down. It yearned to feel you, tight and hot, his extra-vulgar actions were the results of restraining himself.

He shuddered a little—it was entrancing, holding one of your legs up for him to brush his lips against and seeing his cock slide up and down your pussy lips.

Even after prepping you well, it felt like his cockhead was breaching your walls. You let out a breathy sigh, tilting your head at the upside windows, tensing up at the sight of passersby’s feet at the foot of the glass.

“What do y’think, pretty girl?” He murmured against your leg, still pushing into you, “Do y’think that Thompson guy’s around, wonderin’ why the window’s closed while the car’s still out there?”

The way your head tilted back against the counter in ecstasy, the last rays of the sun shining down on your skin. Even with the AC still on, it stopped neither of you from sweating. The thinnest layer of perspiration, especially gathering along your throat, down to the valley of your breasts—oh, what a shame it would be if he didn’t have even a single lick of it.

And he did just that, leaning in to give one of your tits a teasing lick.

Those half-lidded eyes, that drunken smile—oh, he was losing it.

He felt like the most blessed man in the world.

“Eyes on me, bunny. He can listen all he wants but this—it’s you and me.”

And it wouldn’t take long for you to reach your peak, Phil kept his eyes on your facial expression because if it wasn’t the sexiest look he had ever seen before he, too, cums with you. In you.

Holding himself up with one hand beside your head, he used the other to caress your face, allowing you all the time in the world to catch your breath. But truth be told, he had fucked the senses right out of you.

“You alright?” “Mmm…” Your murmurs had him chuckling as he carefully gathered you in his arms.

“Can y'walk? Or do I have to carry you? Because y'know I don't mind either way.” Not especially the latter. He may not be as buff as some of his team but he feels good being able to prove the assumptions wrong. So wrong.

You shook your head, and though none of you were even certain what your answer was, Phil somehow understood, but not before letting you collect yourself for as long as you needed. There was no need to rush. Not now.

“Alright, pretty girl. I can do that.”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

1K notes · View notes

okwonyo · 4 months ago

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𝑒𝑠𝑡. 260932 ✴︎ 그러니 말로 해줘 굳이, 둘러볼 필요 없지 주위. 다른 여자는 관심 주지 말고 나만 봐── 𝑖’𝗆 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒ㅤ𓈒 사랑, 원래 이기주의. 높일게 우리 사이 수위 ⦂ 네 주위에 이만한 여자 봤어？ 𝑖 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽ㅤ𓈒

⠀ ㅤ𓈒 ⠀ 𝟕 𝖥𝖨𝖱𝖲𝖳 𝖲𝖤𝖢𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭⠀( 𝒊𝒏.ㅤㅤㅤ ) 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗡𝗦

one. not kissing them ft. non-idol au fluff established relationship

two. when you are clingy ft. non-idol au fluff established relationship ࿁ ⠀ hyung line

three. after a argument ft. non-idol au fluff established relationship

four. being called a petname for the first time ft. non-idol au fluff established relationship ࿁ ⠀ hyung line

five. favorite place to kiss you ft. non-idol au fluff established relationship

six. using pick up lines on you ft. non-idol au fluff established relationship

seven. saying i love you for the first time ft. non-idol au fluff established relationship

eight. seeing you in glasses ft. non-idol au fluff established relationship 💌

nine. why you would be shipped with them ft. non-idol au fluff established relationship

ten. when you pout ft. non-idol au fluff established relationship 💌

eleven. cute scenarios ft. non-idol au fluff established relationship

twelve. lifting you up ft. non-idol au fluff established relationship

thirteen. seeing you perfom ft. non-idol au fluff established relationship

fourtenn. asking them for a kiss ft. non-idol au fluff established relationship

fifteen. being in a secret relationship with them ft. non-idol au fluff established relationship

sixteen. giving you princess treatment ft. non-idol au fluff established relationship ࿁ ⠀ maknae line

seventeen. how the first kiss went ft. non-idol au fluff established relationship

eighteen. when they are clingy ft. non-idol au fluff established relationship

nineteen. when they are down bad ft. non-idol au fluff established relationship 💌

twenty. pearls&diamonds ft. fluff rich boy x rich girl

twenty one. sunny days ft. fluff established relationship

twenty two. sugar talking ft. fluff established relationship 💌

twenty three. kiss me ft. fluff established relationship

twenty four. beautiful scene ft. fluff crush ah

twenty five. see you again ft. fluff established relationship

twenty five. you are made of angel dust ft. fluff established relationship royality au

twenty six. kissing you baby ft. fluff established relationship ⭐️💌

twenty seven. on my radar now ft. fluff established relationship

twenty eight. drunk–dazed ft. fluff established relationship alcohol 💌⭐️

twenty nine. cuffing season ft. fluff established relationship ⭐️💌

thirty. high heels shoes ft. fluff established relationship ⭐️💌

thirty one. my lips don’t lie ft. fluff established relationship

doctor! doctor!

heartbreaker

downbad texts

look at me

⠀ ㅤ𓈒 ⠀ 𝟕 𝖲𝖤𝖢𝖮𝖭𝖣 𝖲𝖤𝖢𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭⠀( 𝒊𝒏.ㅤㅤㅤ ) 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦

one. love anthem ft. fluff established relationship

two. nervous ft. fluff established relationship

three. the boy is mine ft. fluff established relationship ࿁ ⠀ hyung line.

five. console me ft. fluff established relationship

six. sweet lover ft. fluff established relationship

seven. kiss me more ft. fluff established relationship

eight. can you see me ft. fluff established relationship

nine. i can melt an igloo ft. fluff established relationship

ten. still monster ft. fluff established relationship vampire au

eleven. best part ft. fluff established relationship newlyweds 💌

twelve. valentina baby ft. fluff established relationship

⠀ ㅤ𓈒 ⠀ 𝟏 𝖨𝖭𝖣𝖨𝖵𝖨𝖣𝖴𝖠𝖫𝖲 ⠀ ⠀⟡

LEE HEESEUNG

one. strawberry head drabble fluff meet cute

two. partition drabble academic rival!heeseung high school au fluff

three. your eyes only thought best friend au potential future relationship fluff

four. in the morning drabble established relationship fluff

PARK JONGSEONG

one. all mine drabble fluff established relationship

SIM JAEYUN

one. safety net smau newly weds fluff domestic suggestive joke ⭐️💌

two. call me yours drabble getting engaged fluff domestic suggestive

PARK SUNGHOON

one. girlfriend headcanons fluff established relationship

two. the cockroach drabble neighbor au potential future relationship

KIM SEONWOO

YANG JUNGWON

one. tryna change your mind drabble drunk!jungwon fluff exsituationship getting together

NISHIMURA RIKI

EVENTS ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ la fleur

#masterlist ⭐️#(3)

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twiishaa · 2 months ago

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me i would i love choso

once i tried like doing his face makeup thing and it did NOT suit LMAO it was very fun though

#vidia my love hi ☺️#twisha n vidia 🫶🏽#twisha’s fav people💌#sugar talking💌#choso

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kirbmey · 5 months ago

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toji & kento as sugar daddies !

💌: sfw and nsfw, not proofread

— toji as the teasing type ;

you’d meet him in one of these fancy sugar daddies apps, i’m so sure. he’s built up all this fortune and it’s so much that he doesn’t really know what to do with it.

give it to his son? already did that. donate it? hell no, he wasn’t going to gift the money away just because.

toji was a greedy man and if he was going to give his money to someone (besides his son) he had to get something in exchange. so maybe a young pretty face was the solution to the problem.

when you two had the first date he already noted on how you eyed his expensive clothes and watch through your glasses, eyeing him up and down while sipping on some overpriced coffee he paid for.

on the other hand, he was staring at your body, your pretty face and the way you shyly asked him things such as where he got all that fortune from or what was his job. well, he wasn’t going to reveal that he was a hitman and a full-on criminal just yet.

he subtly avoided your silly questions and managed to take you to his place later that day, offering you a glass of wine and getting clingier between sips.

and just like that, in less than a few hours he got a taste of the only thing he wanted from you in the first place, your pussy. he knew he’d fall in love with it once he got a taste, fucking you against the big glass window for the whole streets to see the way he claimed you.

let’s say you two were signing a contract that night.

in the coming months you two would grow more confident and comfortable with each other, revealing his teasing and sometimes mean personality. expectable.

he’d make you crawl between his legs spread wide open on his office chair to beg for those cute shoes you saw, loving how you learned that he adores it when you lay your head on his muscular thigh while you palm his growing bulge up and down with a tiny hand.

foreplay would be interrupted by him shoving his cock deep inside your throat as always, how considerate.

it was worth it every time, though. you’d get the shoes alongside the rest of the things you’d beg for the week prior, finding your shared bed full of designer bags and a big stash of money for you to spend.

maybe toji was mean and not very considerate at times, but when he started to love you and see you as more than a pretty body, to enjoy the times when you two would simply cuddle and just be together in silence, he’d give you the would if he could.

(he can <3)

— kento as the soft type ;

now, with kento was a little different because he was your boss at the beginning.

you two had a great coworker relationship, don’t get me wrong, he’d be nice to you when you didn’t have the informs at the right time and would send you home earlier than the rest.

all of this because he couldn’t resist your sweet voice and gentle personality; he was crushing on you and you were completely clueless.

why would your boss be handing you an envelope full of bills out of the blue? he heard you talking about how you couldn’t pay your rent this month. and the boots on your desk? he eyed your tabs when you left to the bathroom on a brake and saw the beautiful black leather boots that he immediately bought and gave you the following day, excusing it as a ‘late birthday gift’.

it wasn’t very professional from him to treat you this way, he knew that. he just couldn’t resist it, he has so much to offer and you could take it all.

so, in one of this fancy company’s dinners, he sat next to you and chatted the whole night, getting to know each other even more than before.

kento would go slow with you, he knew he wanted to have a progressing relationship with you, not just mere sex and money. he could keep jerking off in the bathroom when you wore that beautiful black dress to work for a little longer.

a few months after he would introduce you to the whole ‘sugar daddy contract thing’ after having you in his office asking for a promotion because you needed the money more than ever.

he gave you the promotion, of course, how could he say no to his little angel? he also made love to you nice and slow when he took you back home that day after talking about the rules of your new relationship in the car.

nanami was already in love with you and he didn’t even hide it, pampering sweet kisses along your skin while he slid into you ever so gently, making sure you felt every inch of his adoration.

in the morning you’d wake up with the tall and handsome man you forgot was your boss cooking breakfast for you, shirtless with ruffled hair.

it wouldn’t take long for you to reciprocate his feelings, the way he worshiped you made you fall in love with the man. the contract you both signed just a mere excuse to confess your feelings.

still, every morning when you arrived at the office there would be a small box with shiny jewels inside, bags with designer clothes he thought suited your style or just a fancy bento box with that homemade food you loved from him.

he didn’t want anything in exchange, but he couldn’t deny he patiently waited for the gentle knocks on his door, letting you in and sitting on his lap to paint his beautiful face with red lipstick while you two laughed, thanking him for the gifts and hugging him tightly.

okay, maybe he wanted something in exchange.

💌: this wasn’t as detailed as I’d like it to be, should i make it a series? xoxo

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webbluvrsugar · 10 months ago

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hi my darling! i just read your spencer reid x new recruit reader and im aching for another part where spencer warms up to the reader. maybe some angst where he cheers up reader? idk, but i love your work!! 💌💌

a/n: you guys have no idea of how happy I am that you all liked it!! <33 time skip here we go!

It’s been a few months since you and Spencer talked, after all that basket disaster, you’ve been wondering if you should talk to him at all, sometimes you make tiny questions, about his day, about how he found the gifts, about things about him. Spencer never answers clearly, it’s mostly weird and awkward because even if he’s a more mature man now, — freshly out of prison — he’s weirdly quite himself but he still prefers to stay reserved instead of leaning into your conversations, he just doesn’t understand that it hurts you until he almost walks in one of your conversations with JJ.

“I just don’t get it, he’s so nice towards you, towards everyone,” you whisper, the door of her office is still open, you’re not just going to yell about how one of your coworkers has been treating you. “I mean I would’ve understood it if I had offended him, but I didn’t.”

JJ’s voice became muted to him and suddenly, he just couldn’t get that off his mind. It’s all he’s been thinking about for the past days, he thinks that maybe, being a bit more open towards you won’t hurt.

You’re now both getting coffee, he’s glancing at you towards the corner of his eyes, taking a soft moment to let his eyes glance over your features, slower than he intended because you notice it, and you blush. You both reach pot, hands breaching over each others softly, a tender moment between you two before he pulls away and you’re already hushing a “Sorry.” to him. Spencer doesn’t understand why you’re sorry, but he doesn’t question it.

“Don’t worry.” He flashes you a hint of a smile, his lips parting as if he’s going to say something, it’s the only reason you stay. “I..I actually liked the books you gifted me.” He nods towards you as he pours himself coffee before moving onto your mug.

“Oh, thank you, I didn’t know what you liked so I just included some classics.” You smile towards him, all bright and shiny, he finds comfort in that smile.

“‘The collector’ was a good choice.” He presses his lips into a thin line, his hands letting go of the pot before he reaches for a spoon and the sugar, dumping one, two, what was it? Three or four fulls spoons of sugar?

“Only fitting for a brain like yours.” You praise, he glances back at you, the colourful scrunchies around your wrist, the neat hairstyle you did, the tint on your lips, he can tell you’ll be good friends with Garcia. You pick up a spoon, contrasting his behaviour with only a spoonful of sugar. “Careful, Dr. Reid, you might find yourself with diabetes if you keep up with that.” You joke.

Spencer doesn’t know what it was, but it makes him crack a small smile as you turn on your heels and leave, and when he finally realises your praise, he blushes, stuck in place before Morgan calls his name.

He was right, being a little bit more open didn’t hurt.

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cherrishkissed · 16 days ago

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𝓝𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑘 ᥫ᭡, 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝓌ℴ

Preview 𖥸, do bunnies love peaches?, remmick x black fem! reader, kinda proof read? 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 2.1𝓴

˚₊‧꒰ა 💌 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

𝒮peaking with him was a breath of fresh air. He wasn't a bad-looking man, either. After that night, I thought about it some more. My father had led a nice song throughout the night, and to my surprise, so did Remmick. He sat next to me, which I didn't mind. He told me where he was from—an Irish man coming down for a quick visit, he had said.

𝒞ℴ𝓊𝓅𝓁ℯ ℴ𝒻 𝒹𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓁𝒶𝓉ℯ𝓇

Early mornings and even earlier birds.

I wake up and rub my eyes slightly, trying to focus my vision. I then wash up and put on my morning gown. I brush and rinse out my mouth, the morning seemed nice and sunny. I was in the mood for something sweet to drink, so I headed to our kitchen and started making some pomegranate lemonade.

I was given some fresh ones that a neighbor brought over. I take them out of the woven basket and wash them off, and place the seeds in a bowl to be crushed.

I take some lemons and my brown knife to cut them. I then grab my momma's pitcher, the one with the fruit print over it. I add in some sugar and the fruit juices, I mix them up with the spoon.

As I mix I think back to him, why was I focused on him? It's been 4 days since I last saw him, where did he disappear off to?

“Yous up early,” my momma comes walking in the kitchen, her hair in her signature style.

Nicely rolled and pinned in place, her slippers slide against the floor as she walks over.

She stands near the counter, “Lemonade?” She asks me.

I nod, “I finally thought of something to do for them pomegranates,” I say and keep mixing. “You want some?” I ask her.

“Sure baby,” she nods. She watches as I pour her a glass, she glances to the screen door which appears…slightly open. “Did you open that door y/n?,” she asks me, staring at it.

To be honest I don't think I did, it was just closed. “Yeah I wanted some fresh air in, it's nice out” I say and sip my cup of lemonade. It was sweet and slightly tangy, the pomegranate and lemons was surprisingly a good combo. I enjoyed a little pulp in mine.

“You be watchful of that door honey,” she says and sips her cup. “When this evening comes close it.”

I nod to her. I knew what she meant, but we ain't had no problems with them yet.

She takes another sip of the lemonade, she seemed to enjoy it which made me smile a bit.

“Your father and I are going to head to Mrs. Solomon's farm for some stuff then go to the church, do you want to come with us?” She places the cup down in the sink and washes it out.

“Will she have peaches?” I ask my momma, I loved peaches, especially the big golden ones in the jars.

“Not sure, maybe, it won't hurt to look right?,” she lightly smiles at me. Sure, it won't hurt.

I quickly get washed up, and put on a nice dress. I picked something nice and flowy, since it was hot out. I put on one of my dresses that I didn't mind getting dirty, and some flat slip-ons.

I fix my hair in a cute style and head out with my ma and pa.

(The dress we wearing is similar to the first pic, your hair however could be either one. Two of my fav girls btw🤭iykyk!)

Pa drove the car down to Ms. Solomon's farm. Ms.Solomon was very nice. I enjoyed her talks and writings. She was a small writer, farmer, and a good friend of my mom's.

I sit in the car looking out the window, all the animals and many fields filled with produce. My father had the radio on, it played soft jazz which he liked.

I happened to bring along my purse as well, I took my stuff for crocheting with me in case I got bored. I started crocheting together a small brown bunny.

We finally get there and I hop out. I greet her and play with the animals for a bit. Unfortunately, she did not have peaches, so I got some apples instead.

However, I did enjoy playing with animals, who knew cows loved Jazz?

We drove back home and I walk inside the house. I place the fruit up and cut one up to eat. My parents then say they're gonna go to the church, I nod and tell them bye. My father walks out the house with his keys and hat but my momma stays for a bit.

She lightly pulls me into the corner, she seemed off, like she didn't have a good feeling.

“I really think you should come with us y/n, you can help with the crates and paintings.”

“Momma last time I touched them crates it nearly split my hand,” I say referring to my bandaged hand.

She sighs and nods her head, she then taps my hand lightly.

“Alright honey, just keep them doors locked. Don't open that door for nobody” she stressed on the words locked and nobody.

I nod and chuckle a little, “I will mamma, y'all gon be long?”

“I hope not, I do enjoy my bed and rest. Your father has got some meetings however,’’ she chuckles.

“Well I'll be here momma, did you want some supper when you all came back?”

“You're fine baby, we might go to a restaurant for a meal.”

I then nod and say bye to her, she kisses my head and walks out the door. After they gone I start putting up the fruits n vegetables. I then wash clothes just have time pass by. I then head back to the kicthen to wash the dishes.

It was getting later on in the day and im still washing plates and pots. As I'm washing the plates I hear a soft knock on the front door. Is Momma back already?, I ask myself. I wipe my hands on a cloth and place it on the table.

As I'm about to open the door I wait just a moment, if it was ma why would she knock on the door?

She literally has a key?

Instead of opening it, I walk back to the sink. I keep washing the dishes, scrubbing off extra food bits, which I hated. As I'm rinsing off the last plate I hear another knock, this time a little harder. I still wasn't gon open that door.

*knock knock knock*

Who the hell- I mumble, I then go to the door. I lightly opened it, I saw some shoes, I wasn't familiar with them, sure wasn't my father's. I opened the door and to my surprise stood that man Remmick.

“Hey pretty lady,” he says softly.

I lightly squint, now why is he here? I then smile and glance down at the jar of peaches in his hand. He turns over the jar to reveal the label brand of peaches. “Lil birdy told me you liked peaches, which happens to be good for me.” He says softly, “I love peaches.”

I was flattered in certain matters, but for one, how did he know where I lived? Where did he hear that I loved peaches? Ms.Solomon? My parents? Myself? No. I never told him that, I never-

“You're heads running huh?,” he chuckles, showing that smile. “I had, saw your old man at Ms.Solomons a little earlier, he was talking to her about peaches. And, you're the sweetest thing close to it, so I figured that be somethin you'd like?”

I lightly smile, how sweet… no what.

I stood there lost in thought before he broke my train of thought. “You gon take 'em? Or do I eat em myself?” he asks lightly, tilting the jar, he then holds out the Jar. I then slowly grab if from him and go to place it on the counter, I then come back to the door. “Thank you” I say trying to control my smile.

“Shouldn't leave that door wide open miss, anyone could walk in” he says, leaning against the door frame.

“You didn't walk in here?” I ask and fold my arms.

“I haven't been invited in yet, can't be rude to a lady. Need to have permission.” He says, eyeing me, “Do I have your permission doll?”

The name rolls off his tongue so easily, almost to where I was about to let him in.

“No sir” I say and scoff. “Sweet talk don't work on me,” I say firmly and stare at him. He smiles, and sits up from the frame, “Was worth a try hm?”

I roll my eyes and shift the weight to my other foot ,“It's late, you eat anything?" I asked him, why? I don't know, just for conversation. He did bring me a big jar of peaches.

He shifts his eyes back to me slowly.

“You worryin’ ‘bout me now sweetness?” he replies not mockingly, but softly. As if he was testing the words that came out his own mouth.

I roll my eyes at the name, “Don't flatter yourself, I just don't want no man fainting on my mommas porch, das all,” I reply.

He tilted his head just slightly, gaze drifting down the road like he was remembering something.

“I had somethin’ earlier,” he said, voice low. “Did the trick.”

That pause hung heavy. Not too long. Just enough to make the air feel thick. He didn’t look at me right away.

When he finally did, it was with that quiet, unreadable half-smile. “Don’t need much.”

“What kinda something?” I ask, turning fully toward him now.

That smile of his pulls at the corner of his mouth—slow, unreadable.

“Somethin’ warm. Quick, no fuss…”

Speaking in riddles I see…I think to myself.

His tone don’t change, but the air does. It gets heavier. Still. Even the night sounds seem to hush down to hear what he’ll say next. I don’t say nothin’. Just stare.

“What did you eat?,” I ask him carefully.

“Rabbit” He says too smoothly. “Rabbits can be fast, but get tired quick”

“Hm, I ain't never had rabbit, what it taste like,” I ask him, still feeling a little off about his answer.

He pauses, then answers plain. “Gamey. A little bitter, if it’s been scared too long.”

I look at him sideways. “That a thing?”

He nods once. “Fear changes the flavor. You can taste it. Makes the meat tough.”

I just continue to stare at him, fear changes…flavor….

He pushes off the doorframe slowly, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“I should get going. Gettin’ real late.”

“Yeah,” I say with a small nod, watching him.

“You enjoy them peaches now,” he adds, stepping back a bit. “And tell me how they taste.” That felt, oddly, intimate, or maybe I was just thinking with my flesh at the moment.

I let out a quiet chuckle, easing up just a little. “I will Remmick.”

He pauses mid-step, glancing over his shoulder.

“You remembered my name.”

It doesn’t sound like a question—more like he already knew I would. He pushes off the doorframe slow, sliding his hands into his pockets.

He steps down off the porch slowly, like he’s takin’ his time with the gravel under his boots. Doesn’t say much, just listens to the night for a second.

Then he looks back at me, a half-step into the dark.

“You get some rest, alright?” I nod, watching him.

“You too.”

He gives a little tilt of his head, a smile soft but sure.

“I ain’t the restin’ kind.’’ He holds my gaze for a moment longer than he should’ve, then turns and walks off, like we’re gonna pick up the same talk tomorrow. I close the door and think to myself.

The way he said it. Like he meant more than the words.

I press my lips together, shake the thought off, and make my way to the back. The house is still, cool, the hum of the fan in the corner the only sound now.

I slip off my shoes, climb into bed without turnin’ on the lamp. Lay there in the dark with my hands folded on my stomach, starin’ at the ceiling.

He ain’t do nothin’ wrong. Not really. But still...

Something about him just don’t sit right.

And yet...

I turn on my side, pull the cover up to my chin, and let sleep come slow, my last thought caught between his voice and the sound of boots in gravel.

𝑳𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 ✦ ⋆ ࣪.

My door creaks open, ‘’Y/n?,’’ I hear my mommas soft voice. I rub my eyes and sit up from my bed, ‘’Momma?,’’ I ask tiredly. She seems a little sad, she then comes over. ‘’What happened Momma?’’ I ask her still half awake.

“They found a body down at the juke joint,” the words come low, almost whispered—like speakin’ ‘em too loud might call the devil back to finish what he started.

“Said it wasn’t no accident neither. Blood all over the back steps. Like whoever did it… wanted to make sure folks saw.”

My eyes widen, ‘’what?’’

@𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝

☾.꒰ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ꒱˚✿˖°

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 !

HIII thanks for the reads on the last chapter, I'm lowkey liking this fanfic I'm writing ngl. As always pls like n share, feel free to give tips as well <3

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etherealily · 4 months ago

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𝕏𝕆𝕏𝕆, 𝔽𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕩.

Felix Catton + fem!reader. Warnings : Cussing. Drugs. Long.

My other Felix fics, if you have the time.

happy v-day💌

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : You don't want to fix him, but you do, anyway.

═════════════════════════ ⋆⋅💙⋅⋆ ═══════════════════════

Okay, okay, so he beat someone up on campus, so fucking what?

It's called being a good fucking person. Look, you do not let some utter chav get away with cat-calling a girl in the middle of the dining hall, and then a frat party, where she might have been roofied if she'd have been dumber (thank god she wasn't), and in a fucking library, just because she couldn't cause a scene. Three strikes and he was out.

But apparently, so was Felix.

"No, Sir, I'm telling you, he was--'

"Professor Walker."

Professor. Asshole. "Professor. I apologise. Professor, I'm telling you, he was being absolutely dodgy!"

"Mr. Catton, I'd advise you to stay calm--"

His fist slammed on the table, the pens on this useless waste of a PhD's desk bouncing, seemingly in tune with Felix's blood pressure. "YOU are a philosophy professor, yeah? Don't bloody talk about practical shite to me, and don't tell me what to do about what happens in the real world, when your whole career is telling people to overthink everything and keep their heads in the clouds!"

Uh, whoops.

His adrenaline shot down as fast as it had shot up and all of a sudden, he was acutely aware of his ranking in this shithole.

Student.

He's lucky he wasn't expelled.

Because the philosophy 'professor' said "young minds often reject new ideas".

Figures.

He got let off with a warning, an extremely disappointed voicemail from his mother (Felix, dear, you know philosophy was my major, that was a horrid joke to make), to sit in on one month's worth of philosophy lectures - surprisingly, without charge - and a mandatory weekly anger management session for the rest of the academic year.

That last bit was what he was most chagrined about.

He did not need a bloody shrink. GOD. He was fine. He just couldn't handle the philosophy 'professor' telling him to 'stay calm' when he was perfectly calm. Maybe he knew that would set him off. Any class with Felix in it is sure to get more listeners. So maybe it was this Professor Walker mooching off his campus-wide popularity.

═════════════════════════ ⋆⋅💙⋅⋆ ═══════════════════════

Having to miss classes wasn't exactly on your bucket list, but your body was far less used to Oxford winters than you'd expected, and so the flu decided to scrape a week off your lectures. You made up for it, though, being a swot on your first free week of Uni, and not needing to catch up on much.

However, there was definitely no chance your professor took too kindly to your absence, seeing as psychology was your major, and she expected you to be there, rain, hail or shine. Star student, you were not, but the only one taking it seriously, you were.

So here you were, sitting in front of her as she regarded you. "You need extra credit."

"Yes, Professor."

"Your career path?"

"Uh... undecided."

"Career focus?"

"Psychology.' That, you knew.

She hummed, shaking a packet of sugar before ripping the corner. You watched the tiny, crystalline cubes get engulfed by the brown of her coffee.

"You should try going into therapy."

For a moment, you almost chewed her head off.

"As a career.", she clarified, almost snorting as she saw your expression. "You interact well with people, and you have a good grasp on the subject." Ah. Say that properly, bitch.

"Here's what I'll do.", she declared, taking a large sip of her coffee - you were almost 90% sure she'd made it Irish earlier - before sliding a small, stapled pile of papers over to you. "I'll give you all the tools you'll need. See if you can get them memorized and come back for a solo quiz later this week. Then, you can begin conducting."

Conducting?

You skimmed your eyes over the stack of paper. Weekly mandatory anger management sessions. Split second, and you thought it was for you, because maybe she had heard you mentally call her a bitch.

"An extremely hardworking and well-scoring student recently got into an altercation on campus, on grounds.", she explained, and you nodded, your eyes not leaving the stack of paper.

'Conducted by' : blank. You supposed that's where you were supposed to sign.

"Although we have a strict policy against harrasment and conflict, none of the three parties involved has openly stated discrimination. The only solid thing the university has got is a confession from the initiator and witnesses from the side of the victim. But given his clean record so far, we have resorted to only this. Sessions to contain any such future outbursts."

Who even was this kid, and why was he your form of extra credit? "But I'd be using him as a lab rat, basically."

"Come again?"

"I'm not qualified or licensed to conduct these sessions, so I don't think--"

She waved you off, the bint. "It's a mere formality, no need to put stock into it. That's not to say you can slack off, half-arse it, either, but he's had no history of violence and is known to be a relatively good-tempered student."

Then why the fuck?

"We figure he can be let off easy - we'd never take sides, so this is off the record, but he was justified - and you can get extra credit, and the victim can be appeased. Quiet and a win-win-win."

The coffee now completely drained, she watched you think it over while staring blankly at the space in which you needed to sign your name. Inhaling deeply, she leaned over, gently prying it from you and flipping the page. "This bit, very important. Sort of like an NDA. No, maybe... an ANS. Agreement Not to Sue. But less official."

"This looks more like summat he should be signing. Basically, since I'm not a licensed therapist, if he doesn't get better, or gets more fucked, the Uni isn't to blame?"

"You need to sign it, too. You'll have to record the sessions, as well."

"So you know I'm not 'half-arsing' it?"

"So we know he's coming to them. But yeah. That too.", she smiled, tilting her head. "You in?"

Well, yeah, you kind of had to be, seeing as she cut marks for your absences out of sheer fucking spite.

You nodded and so did she. "Brilliant! Sign here."

Scrawling your sign - that you came up with in the eighth grade instead of fucking having fun like a kid - on the blank spots her manicured nail hovered over, you bit the inside of your cheek. Was it weird that they weren't telling you who it was?

Was it weird that the sheet had been blank when it was brought to you, meaning whoever this bloke was, he had no clue what was coming?

Uh huh. Yeah.

═════════════════════════ ⋆⋅💙⋅⋆ ═══════════════════════

"A student?! A first year fucking student? I'm getting a kid-shrink?"

"It's a mere formality. Given your record, we're sure you don't even require these sessions--"

"Professor! Come on! Can't we just say I took them?"

It's quite interesting how chill a philosophy professor can actually be once you get to know them personally. And Walker was cool, as Felix had come to find out in the past couple days of knowing him.

"Afraid not. But I'm sure she's been adequately trained by the psychology in-charge to handle these sessions."

"Why can't the in-charge do it? Would actually do summat!"

"She's busy."

He scoffed as he was handed a stapled stack of papers. "What's this, then?"

"Read it."

He did, for a while, before looking up at him with raised eyebrows. "What is this, a Liability Waiver for if she bollockses my mental health by accident?"

"More or less."

Sweet lord. "Oh, fantastic, so I'm a scapegoat, a trial for this first year, am I? See if counselling is her 'thing'?"

"You know, a more positive attitude towards this, and you might not have to go the whole year.'

"What, sayin' she'll give up?"

Walker looked almost amused, snorting. "No. I'm saying you might actually get a solution for your rage issues."

"I don't have--'

"You could learn a thing or two, Felix. Learn to calm your temper - no matter how non-existent you claim it to be - and learn how to be happier."

"Brilliant. A first year is going to teach me about the joys of non-reactivity, then? Brilliant. We'll see her keep her temper when a girl's being near groped in front of her, hm?"

"We'll need to have you sign there and there and twice on the last page, please."

"She got this before me?", he muttered, glaring at the signatures already present on the pages. "So she got to decide whether she wants to deal with me, not the other way around!? Unbelievable."

"Sign, please, Felix."

He grumbled under his breath, attempting to recall whether he'd ever even heard your name before, as he messily signed something that was probably not his signature, on each page. He has no clue what his signature is. He figured he'd sort it out when he takes over the family estate (or business), or whatever.

"None of these look the same."

"Well, this is hardly official is it? 'S long as my name's there, it's not a problem, yeah?"

"You're gonna give me a migraine before my first week as your student advisor.", he muttered, accepting the sheets back anyway. "Okay, good. Sessions start Saturday."

Fucking spectacular, now this girl was taking his weekends away.

WEEK 1

Your pen twirled between your fingers and the inside of your cheek practically split open with how frequently you'd been resorting to chewing on it lately.

You'd passed the solo quiz that your professor had set up for you, and she'd declared you 'adequately trained' to take these sessions.

Okay? And? What, were you supposed to jump in joy?

Late. This arsehole, 'Felix Catton' was his name. You just... try as you might, you couldn't place a face to the familiar name. And that face was almost ten minutes late.

But one thing you would not do is get up and leave until the hour was up. Work ethic. Wait till the last moment. With any luck, he wouldn't show up at all, and you could complain, and get extra credit some other way--

The door exploded open, and shuffling, throwing-off of a coat and grumbled-settling-down was heard, as you looked up from your notes.

"You're the first year, then?"

Oh, THIS GUY?! Whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah, you remembered him!

You nodded. "Yes. Uh, just a second, Mr. Catton.", you muttered, angling the video camera right, ignoring the scoff it elicited from the junior.

"I'm two years older than you."

"What would you like me to call you?" That plug from the Christmas party who tried to overcharge me?

He watched you fiddling with the device for a bit before sitting up, one leg crossed over another as he huffed, playing with his rings. "Felix is fine."

"Felix it is, then.", you mumbled, finally getting the thing to work, before clearing your throat and sitting up. Here we go. "So, Felix.", you began, trying to smile off the awkwardness. "We're here to just go through these Uni-mandated sessions, so that you may have an insight into conflict resolution and--"

"Do you wanna know why I'm here in this bloody session?"

You glanced over to the camera for a second, feeling like you were in a fucking Office episode, before nodding, gesturing at him to continue. Fuck, if this shite went on the record and he said summat so unbelievably stupid you were at a loss for words, you could kiss your extra credit goodbye.

"I punched a lad. Hard, till his nose bled and he couldn't stand up without support."

You nodded, flicking through the file of information you'd received from some advisor of his, Professor Walker. Nice chap. "Yes, I see that. How does that make you feel? Did it make you feel powerful?"

"Mhm.", he hummed, nodding as he glared at you, a sort of smirk on his face, like he thought this would have you freaking out about his sadistic tendencies. It's funny he thought you cared.

"Happy?'

"Very."

"I see. But one thing that's conveniently missing from your file.", you replied, eyes flicking accusatorily to the camera before reaching his eyes once more. "Is why you did it.", you stated, your fingers intertwining as you looked at him with rapt attention.

This seemed to throw him for a loop, the self-satisfied grin fading for a moment.

"Why'd you want to know, sweetheart? So that you can record me confessing to the crime on tape?", he mused, gesturing at the camera before reclining back in his seat, his arms crossed. "Because I'm sorry to disappoint your wide-eyed, freshman dreams, but I've already said it, on the record."

You frowned, tilting your head softly for a moment. "No, I'm asking, because I truly don't know. They wouldn't give me your identity, let alone your case."

"Well, I hit a lad. For cat-calling a girl."

He observed your face almost twitch for a moment, and he figured you were about to throw the camera at him, but instead, you switched it off. "And they're punishing you for it?", you asked, leaning your forearms in front of him, basically whispering although the camera was off.

Huh. Whoa, maybe you were on his side.

"Yeah, isn't it mental?", he scoffed, leaning in, too. "I figured I should get some sort of medal, y'know? Maybe a commendation from the dean."

"I wouldn't go that far, but it's good, what you did.", you laughed, softly.

"Exactly!", he huffed, a genuine smile now on his face as he leaned back, rubbing his hands over his jaw. "Wow. I- sorry, love, but I didn't expect us to, like, agree."

"No, no, yeah, totally! I thought you were a hotheaded twat. I didn't expect...", you exclaimed, gesturing at him. "Reason."

"Right. Well, okay, great! Uh, phew, yeah?"

You nodded.

"So, yeah, this is cool. We'll just... you'll take care of it, won't ya? Thanks, you're a peach.", he grinned, standing up and not believing his bloody luck!

"Hey, hey, where are you going?"

Turning, he frowned. "Well, we agree. So you'll talk to your in-charge, and say I don't need it, yeah? Oh, oh, you want me to stay the hour so you can, like, log it in. Yeah, yeah, got it.", he mumbled, nodding eagerly.

"What? No." He was, uh... clearly not on the same page as you.

His smile faded slowly. "What?"

"We've got weeks left of this."

"Yeah, but. Wait, I thought you agreed with me."

"I do. It's bonkers to punish you, but, it's mandatory, so."

"'So'? So, go do summat about it, then!", he cried, gesturing at nothing in particular. "Tell 'em there's nothing to work on!"

"I'm not just going to--"

"WHY?!"

You almost flinched. God. Maybe he did have anger issues.

"WHAT'S IN IT FOR YOU?!"

Oh, oh-- uh oh. He didn't even know why you were doing it, and you were sure he'd blow five gaskets if he did.

"Just finish it, stop causing unecessary problems!"

"No, seriously! What's in it for you?"

"SIT DOWN!"

For some reason, that, he listened to.

He slumped down.

"Shut up and do what you were instructed to do." Lord knows where you'd got the balls to talk to a junior like that.

Reaching over to turn the camera back on, you began again. "What would you like me to call you?", you repeated.

"How about I call you something and we can workshop sm'n out for me later?", he grumbled under his breath.

"Sorry? You weren't audible. What was that?"

"Nothing. Felix."

"Felix.", you echoed, nodding. "We're here to just go through these Uni-mandated sessions, so that you may have an insight into conflict resolution and live an overall, controlled and more fulfilling life and have a more fruitful experience here at Oxford.", you read off the script, jaw clenched, mirroring his dirty look.

"Yes, I'm aware, thank you, freshie."

"I'd like it if you adressed me by my name. You already know it from the sign-up form for the sessions, but I am happy to repeat it if you wish.'

"Sign-up form?", he scoffed, looking directly at the camera. "Is that what they're calling it on the record?"

"That is what it is."

"Sweet Lord, it's a Liabil-- hey.", he grimaced, narrowing his eyes at you as you kneed him from under the table.

"Right. Y/N. Am I supposed to call you 'Doctor', too, freshie?"

"Just my name is fine."

He rolled his eyes, his hands fiddling with his rings. "Let's begin with your recount of the incident."

How many bloody times?! He was about to explode.

You ended the session at exactly one hour, because you couldn't take this moron anymore, for fuck's sake.

He didn't object.

Shutting off the camera, you wordlessly packed up your things, stuffing them into your bag.

"Are they payin' ya?"

You snorted, zipping up your bag before slinging it over your shoulder. "No."

"Fuckin' snake."

"How am I a snake, Felix?", you sighed, tapping an impatient foot on the floor.

"Pretending you're on my side and that. Was that just to get information for the therapy part of it? Because that was a bitch move."

"What? No, I genuinely think it's odd that they're punishing you for something like this."

"Then why?! What could they possibly offer a fresher? They wouldn't increase your scholarship for shite this petty, so-- wait. EXTRA CREDIT?!", he gasped, standing up startlingly quick. "You're doin' this for a couple points of extra credit ?! WHAT?!"

"So what if I am?", you asked, schooling your face and your voice to be the picture of calm. "Either way, these sessions are mandated if you don't want this to escalate. It'll be over before you know it."

"EXTRA CREDIT?!", he practically shrieked, as he followed you out the door. "How bloody pathetic! You're going against what you know is right for extra bloody credit?! Just fucking study!"

"It'll be over before you know it, Felix."

"For the rest of the academic year, I have to come to you every Saturday and listen to you blabbering on about how to 'take deep breaths and count to ten'.", he scoffed, incredulously, easily overtaking you and obstructing your path in more ways than one.

"Doesn't always have to be a Saturday."

Oh, he was about to actually get anger issues.

"This pisses you off, too! Come on, admit it, fresher! You don't like this any more than I do!", he declared, crossing his arms defiantly.

You sort of liked pissing him off. Gave you much more to work with, sadistically. Reaching into your bag, you handed him the tiny blue journal you'd bought. "Here."

"What is this?"

"It's for noting down your feelings. You will have to fill at least one page every day and bring it back to me during our sessions."

He gaped incredulously at you as you shouldered past him. You're giving him homework?!

═════════════════════════ ⋆⋅💙⋅⋆ ═══════════════════════

WEEK 5

"You're not taking off your helmet?"

"No. Bothers you?"

You glanced at the camera for a second, before shaking your head, the corners of your lips turned down in feigned and exaggerated indifference. "No."

"Because I'll keep it on, mud and all. I fell on the way here."

"You fell?"

"Yeah. Helmet's now my coping mechanism. Calms me, y'know?" That made no bloody sense!

"So you're keeping it on."

'You wouldn't deny me my coping mechanism, would you, Y/N?"

You sucked on your teeth, shaking your head once more. Dirt on the desk, dirt on your laptop, dirt-- FUCK!

"No, it's alright."

He grinned slyly, nodding, before sliding the journal over to you. "I filled it."

"Entirely?" It's only Week 5, what the hell?

"Yes, actually. I'm an overachiever."

You raised a brow, taking it from him and placing it next to his file.

"So. How are we doing today?", you asked, once again intertwining your fingers and placing them on the desk as you leaned closer to the imbecile.

"You're not readin' it?"

Oh, please, like you had no clue what was in there. "No, actually, I've got to directly submit this to both your advisor and my in-charge."

"What?"

"Yeah, protocol. That's why I said to take it one week at a time so we can monitor progress, but it seems you're an 'overachiever' - your words, not mine."

"Can I have it back?" His tone was almost nervous, and you were now even more certain what he'd actually bloody written in there.

You almost smirked before you remembered the presence of the camera. "You want it back, Felix?"

"Yeah, I think I, uh, used a couple of profanities."

"That's alright, I'm sure they'll understand."

"Can I please have it back?"

You shrugged, holding it out for him to take, letting him tug on it for a moment before you released it from your grasp. "Would you like another one? Since you've filled this one?"

"I'll buy my own."

"Very well. I ask again, how are you doing today?"

He huffed, momentarily looking like he was actually prepared to answer honestly. "Great."

"Great.", you echoed, your pen twirling between your fingers. "And define 'great' to you."

"Not shite.", he said through gritted teeth.

"In more elaborate, less crude terms, please, Mr. Felix.'

"I am doing well today. Not bad.", he mumbled, playing with the buckle of the helmet he'd so adamantly kept on that was now seeming a bit too bloody tight. But he couldn't take it off. Not when it was clearly bothering you. "Nothing particularly terrible or triggering has occurred."

"And is that always the standard you measure your experiences on? 'Not bad'? If nothing 'terrible or triggering' has happened, it's a 'great' day?", you asked offhandedly, noting it down. 'Not shite'.

His eyes darted up to you. "What?"

"I said, is that always the stand--"

"No, I heard you. Just... isn't that what everyone does?"

"Do you think it is? Do you think it's what everyone does? Have any of your friends told you it is what they do?"

"What do you do?"

"Me?" Were you allowed to answer this? Is that against some therapist rule? You weren't sure, and you couldn't really ask your textbook right now, could you?

He nodded, mildly intrigued.

"Personally, for me to count a day as 'great', there should be an equal balance of absence of bad things and presence of good things."

"Well, then, I fell off my bike, but I did well on a test. Is that, in your books, a 'great' day?"

"Depends. Which do you weigh more? Is falling off a bike worse than getting a bad grade, or is getting a good grade better than staying upright on a bike?"

"Getting a good grade."

"Well, then, I suppose, there's your answer."

Huh. This was an odd perspective he's never exactly... heard before. Wait, no! This shite is not working, fuck off, fresher!

"Whatever."

"Whatever indeed.", you nodded. "You seem to have a better attitude this week, to the session." He did not. But it would piss him off if he thought that you thought this was working.

"I do not."

"Oh, well, then, pardon me, my mistake. So, tell me. Why do you think it is, that you're not particularly interested in these sessions?"

"Because I don't have anger issues. If a bloke catcalls a girl once, it's whatever - still bad - but whatever. Happens. But if he keeps doin' it, almost roofies her at a party and constantly tailing her, and then tryin' to score in a fucking library, just because she can't yell out at him, that's, like... creep behaviour!"

You nodded. "Yes, you mentioned this, in the first session, and also to your student advisor, it seems.", you replied, tapping the tip of your pen at the bit of the file that mirrored what he was saying.

"And you think that that's a therapy-worthy answer."

"Why do you not think you're going to get anything out of these sessions, Felix? Even without anger issues, per se, everyone could use some guidance in controlling their emotions and resolving conflict peacefully, wouldn't you agree?"

"No, I would not agree. I think that if you're being an absolute prick , then no amount of peaceful talking is going to do anything. You need to get physical. Teach a lesson."

"I see. And you know this works because...?"

"Because he's shut up, hasn't he?"

"Right, but maybe he's still doing it. Perhaps not to that particular girl, but how do you know for sure you've 'taught him a lesson'?"

"Because- well.", he muttered. Shut up, fresher! "He's not that daft! He wouldn't risk another beating!"

"If he's daft enough to do it three times even after she expressed disinterest, Felix, I'm sure he might be 'daft' enough to 'risk another beating'."

He tsked, taking off the bloody tight fucking helmet, and running his hands through his hair. You watched the brown spill through the gaps of his fingers, before your eyes came back to his face. "You're frustrated?"

"Yes, I'm frustrated."

"What do you usually do, when you're frustrated?"

"Certainly not sit in a room with a fresher and 'talk about it'!"

"Right, I suppose you don't.", you replied, smiling. "So what is it you do?"

"I dunno, smoke?"

"Smoke?", you asked, tilting your head, noting it down. "You smoke?"

"Yeah, I smoke. What, you going to turn this into a cancer-awareness session?"

"I'm simply trying to understand you, Felix."

"What is this, like a first date, you learn shite about me, and see if I'm worth anything in your eyes?", he scoffed.

"Would that make it easier to open up?"

"No! God! What high school did you go to? Idiot."

"Oh, so we are going with the first date thing?"

"No- I- you're so stupid! I don't actually care what high school you went to! It was rhetoric!"

His outburst, oddly, was not followed by a calm and infuriating retort, in fact, you just looked back at him, disappointed, it looked like. But that was impossible, because that would mean you gave a crap, which, you couldn't. You did this for extra credit like a fuckin' try-hard, right?

The silence almost devours him whole as he looks into your eyes - why were they so... he didn't even know, that look you were giving him just... freaked him out.

"Time's up. You can leave."

What?! No, no, no, he just got here.

"Already?"

He heard the video camera shut off. "Time flies when you're actually working with me, Felix, y'know?"

"Don't get used to it, I had a shit day.'

You chuckled softly, nodding. "I won't. Have a nice rest o' your weekend, Catton."

WEEK 10

"Hello again, Felix."

"Hi."

"You seem cheery today."

"Yes, actually. I went out last night. Downed a couple pints with the lads. It was fun."

"I'm glad you had fun."

He nodded, pursing his lips as he rocked back and forth, awkwardly.

"Yes, so. If you don't mind, I'd just like to go back to some things that were left unfinished in some of the previous sessions. Let's circle back to your mention of what you do when you're frustrated. Smoke. Anything else?"

He sighed, rubbing his temple as he looked up at you. 'No. Well, if you're talking about last night, uh, drink, yeah, sometimes, but never to change my mood or whatever."

"I see. So that's all you do, when frustrated?"

"Yeah. Smoke."

"How about this. Next time you feel frustrated, instead of picking up a pack of cigarettes, pick up a pen."

"What, write down my feelings like a thirteen year old girl?"

"No, draw. On paper, on a desk, on your hand, who cares? Draw."

"Draw?"

"Yeah. It's worked for me, and you seem to be responding slightly better when I give you real life examples of what's worked and not worked for me, so."

"What, the bike thing from Session 5?! Because I-- Oh, please, you're not that bloody smart! Anyone could've said that, doesn't mean I'm 'responding better' just because you said it worked for you, you're a fuckin' fresher, everything you read in your stupid little psych textbooks would work for you!", he snapped. He didn't even know what half of that meant. He just wanted to say something.

"See, it seems that this is more what you do when you're frustrated, Felix, per my observation. You're free to correct me if I'm wrong, but since our previous sessions, this sort of insulting defensiveness is what I feel you resort to."

"'M not defensive. I just think this is pointless."

"Yes, you've made that quite apparent."

"Well, then how about you just declare me fixed?"

"It's not about declaring you, alright, it's about finishing the minimum duration provided to us by the University."

"Fine."

Silence. "So. I ask again. Why not draw?"

"Fine, I'll draw."

"Alright. Thank you, Felix. Time's up."

"What?!"

"Just kidding. You've only been here five minutes. How about... and humour me here...", you muttered, reaching under the desk and groping around until you pull out two sketchbooks. "We draw right now?"

"What, and then you analyse how fucked I am in the head?"

"Or we just draw. We don't even have to talk.", you replied, handing him the sketchbook. God, this better work. You'd had to draw info from child psych books for this guy.

It took barely five minutes for him to begin talking again.

"What are these pencils?"

"Don't ask me, they're all Oxford-provided."

"What a joke. You know, when I was a fresher, I didn't even let myself think of borrowing anything from Uni, I got all my own shite, and even if I lost it, I'd ask it to be sent over from home."

"Really?" Fucking rich boy cunt.

"Mhm.", he hummed, the scratches of his incessant scribbling almost grating in the silent room, but also comfortable, somehow, blending in with the smooth swish sounds of your own, lazy strokes. "Only the best. Can't afford mistakes, can I?"

Can't afford? You'd researched him enough to know that little existed of the sort for him.

"I suppose you can't."

"Y'know, I fucking lost my shite third week of freshman year. How about you?"

"I'm handling it okay, thanks for asking." You were, in fact, not. Your assignments were all overdue by now, and you were having to pull all-nighters that bled steadily into mornings because of this new extra-credit task you'd taken on, and to top it all off, none of the other Professors seemed to care that the Uni was milking the two of you. Abusing your need to improve your grade - although you shouldn't fucking need it -and subjecting him to these sessions with none of his own volition.

"That's good to hear. How close are you to offing yourself, then?", he mused, raising a brow and licking the back of his molars as his eyes slowly reached yours. Fuck. He was onto you.

You tsked, reaching over and shutting off the camera. "You know I have better things to do than edit this to cut out your little quips, right? I really can't have you talking about offin' yourself."

"Oh, so you're also a drown-in-alcohol kind of person, I see."

What in the everloving fuck-- "God, get a fuckin' life, mate.", you muttered, reaching back up to switch the camera on after silently glaring and counting down from three.

"I'm handling it okay, thanks for asking.", you repeated.

"Huh. Really?"

"Yes. Why, is your school year not going okay?"

"No, it's going spectacular. My parents pay for an afternoon to go off once a week for a useless fresher to tell their son to meditate."

You chose not to respond to that, instead pursing your lips and continuing to draw. A flower, it seemed, your hands wished to create.

"Why do you even need extra credit?"

"I was sick, and I missed a couple classes."

"Oh, and you flunked the tests?", he asked, reaching over to grab your pencil out of your hands and use the eraser on the back of it, before tossing it back to you. Prick, and if that smirk was any indication, smug prick.

"No, actually, I'd already finished a good chunk of the syllabus content my first couple weeks so I did fine in my tests."

"So why?"

He looked genuinely curious. So genuinely curious, that you actually felt like this was a first date and he was an annoyingly inquisitive romantic candidate.

"She just didn't like the absences." Plus, everyone else just took Psych to slack off.

"That's not fair."

"Yeah, well, you beat up a creep for a girl and they're punishing you, so."

His eyes flicked over to the camera momentarily. "That's on the record."

"It should be."

═════════════════════════ ⋆⋅💙⋅⋆ ═══════════════════════

Normalcy is hard to achieve because it's never truly been attained.

Now, this kind of knowledge is only acquired when you take a philosophy class - like you - but since Felix was a PolSci-stuck-up-arsehole, it really didn't strike him that the life he'd lived before you had neither been normal nor happy.

Which is why when he found you and a couple of your friends hanging out by the lawn of a frat party, passing around a spliff, he just couldn't resist.

"Is this your coping mechanism, then?"

He reveled in the groan you replied with.

"Ladies, if you could excuse us?"

You rolled your eyes as all your mates nodded slyly before scrambling up. With hungry and suggestive looks at him and then you, they waved subtly. Spectacular. They already thought you were hooking up and now... fuck.

"Ah. I think we're gonna need that, if you will.", he called, winking as he grabbed the spliff from one of them, before settling down next to you. "See? I'm a celebrity. You should bring that up next time, see if you can't do anything with it."

"What?"

"Like, ask me about that. Incorporate it. 'How's it feel, Felix, being the life of the party, and the apple of everyone's eye?'"

"Incorp-- do you think this is a game? Like this is a play?!"

"Well, yeah. It's basicall--"

"GOD, you absolute prick! I'm here freakin' out about the syllabus, tests, and stayin' up to analyse and collate your bullshit and I have to submit it and study resources for it and--", you paused, catching your breath and glaring at him before taking a hit to calm your nerves. "And you think it's a story, like an improv session, where we add off each other.", you mumbled the last bit out.

"What are you, burnt-out from this shite?"

You didn't respond and he watched the smoke flow above the two of you. "God. You are. What sort of a freshman's burnt out by second term?"

"The kind that has to be a shrink to some anger-issued arsehole."

"Hey, c'mon, you-", he huffed, tilting his head at you. "You don't have to put too much effort into this, it's a formality."

"To you!", you yelled, sitting up in frustration, your elbow on your knee and your blunt in your fingers.

He sat up, too, sighing. "I'm sorry. For what it's worth."

"Worth nothing."

"Yeah, I can tell.", he muttered, hiding a scoff. "Gimme."

You rolled your eyes, but handed him the spliff nevertheless, which he grumbled as he took a drag of. Knees elevated to his chest, he exhaled the smoke. "This is good. Is it American?'

"How should I know?"

"You don't care what sort of weed you smoke? This actually is one of your coping methods?"

"For the love of-- lay off, man!"

"Whoa, whoa, it's a joke!"

"You're a joke!"

He almost laughed at that. Almost, because he'd had quite fucking enough of you. He didn't forget who he was just because you might have changed his perspective a little. He was still Felix motherfucking Catton, a motherfucking Upperclassman. And when he was a fresher, he had to treat his Upperclassmen with utmost respect- no, reverence - so he'll be damned if he's gonna let you sit here and call him a joke.

"Stand up."

"What?"

"Stand up."

"Why?"

"NOW, FRESHER, NOW!" Okay, the startle in your body language made him feel the tiniest bit bad, but still, it was exactly what had been done to him, and he wasn't all whiny about it.

"Okay, okay, I'm up, I'm up!", you mumbled, straightening out your shirt. "What?"

He had no clue what he wanted you to stand up for.

"So. The reason I had you shoot up..."

Think, Felix! Think!

"...Is actually quite simple, really. I'm sure you've already guessed."

"You want to get my mind off it or summat."

Sure. "Good. You're smart. And how will I be doing that?"

You shrugged. "Take me on a joyride on your stupid bicycle or summat.", you grumbled.

Sure. Let's go with that. Better than Felix's idea of making you do jumping jacks, like his seniors had done to him.

"Wow, maybe shrinks really can read minds. And at least you have one of your own.", he replied, flicking your forehead as he shepherded you over to the exit of the party. Yeah, he didn't think through how far you'd have to walk before you actually reached his bike. Oh, well. Better for him.

"So.", he began, arms swinging exaggeratedly at his side. "Have you heard anything from your in-charge yet? Walker won't tell me anything."

You shook your head. "It's all the same. 'Received tapes. Good work. Keep going.' Like I'm bloody angling for a gold star."

"Well, you're angling for the college equivalent of a gold star, which is a smidge of extra credit."

Shrugging, you seemed to agree. It was a pleasant sort of... stoned sort of quiet for the rest of the walk until his bike came into view. "There it is."

"That's the bike you fell off of after you aced your test?"

"Yeah."

"How?", you scoffed, buckling up the little helmet he offered you "Thing looks brand new."

"What, you were expecting some post-war, ancient bike?", he snorted, clambering onto the seat.

"Yeah, I thought it'd be some rusty, squeaky, rickety thing. How's this supposed to work? Where do I sit?"

"On your own bike's seat.", he replied, gesturing to the rest of the bicycle lot.

"I don't have a bloody bicycle! I'm normal! I walk to classes!"

"How close is your dorm?!"

"Quite."

"Well...", he huffed, taking off his helmet. 'Well, okay, so, just... take one."

"Take one?"

"Like... a random one. Borrow an unlocked one."

"Steal, you mean."

"Semantics."

"I'm not stealing."

He groaned. He had way too much of a heart to punish you like his seniors did.

═════════════════════════ ⋆⋅💙⋅⋆ ═══════════════════════

"Could you slow down?!"

He watched you grumble before you slowed down, allowing him to jog up next to you. "I'm going to hold onto the handlebar because I wouldn't put it past you to steal my bike and then ask me 'how did that make you feel?' in the next session."

You actually had to stop the bike to laugh for that one.

"Oh, she acts human.", he remarked, crossing his arms across his chest as he regarded you. "Alright, it's not... that funny."

But you just didn't stop laughing.

Well, until you started crying.

Maybe that weed was laced. Yeah, he was feelin' a bit off, himself. Shit.

"I mean, fuck, Felix, mate, you- you know I don't think you should be antagonized like this, yeah? You're... you, you're good, you- you helped a girl, and your anger issues are good!"

Okay, clearly the laced weed was hitting you both at the same time, somehow. Either it was causing him to mishear some sympathy from your end or causing you to express sympathy. Either way, somehow, you were both oddly on the same page.

"I don't have anger-bloody-issues.", he gritted out, tapping his fingers impatiently on the handlebar.

"No, mate, you do, but, like, they're good, you don't have to get all touchy about it. I like it, personally. Think it's good. You're stickin' it to the man and all that."

He scoffed as he shifted closer, flicking your - well, his - helmet back a bit. "You're on thin ice, 'mate'! I told you, I don't have anger iss--"

"You're yellin' at me right now!"

"I'm NOT--", he cut himself off, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You're pissin' me off."

"Everything pisses you off! That's why they're called anger issues!', you retorted, and he swore he was close to pushing you off the bike and seeing how many minutes of meditation you'd employ not to uppercut him.

"I don't need your shrink bullshit, and you can't do it anyway! I don't get how you're burnt out, y'know? You half-arse everything!"

He barely knew you outside of these sessions. He was straight up lying, but he wanted to prove that it wasn't that easy to keep your calm when provoked. Especially not by some smart aleck swot-freshman who thinks her psych major means she can read his mind and give him lip.

Ow ow, ow. Fuck. He needed to sit. down. The 'weed' was definitely about to make him pop a blood vessel, because did he just see three stars in the sky run down in front of him? No. Can't be, yeah?

"D'you think...?", you groaned, hastily removing the helmet. "D'you think there was summat in the punch?"

"Think it was the weed."

"Weed doesn't-- oh."

He nodded, gently steering the bicycle to the nearest bench, which was barely a hundred paces away, observing your feet elevated and the pedals rotating on their own as he tugged it along.

Grunting lowly as he sat, he held out a hand for you after you leant the bicycle against a nearby streetlamp. You slumped down next to him. "This is why I don't take Donna's weed, but she swore it was clean."

"Some friend she is."

"Hey."

"Oh, please, come on. She lies to you, gives you laced weed because, what, she thought she knew best on what would calm you down? That's not what a friend does."

"What does a friend do? Take you on bicycle rides across campus?"

"I mean, sure. Why not?", he asked, gesturing around. "It's fresh air, yeah? We had some talkin' happening, as well, sorted out our differences and that, yeah?"

You chuckled, softly, shaking (and lightly clutching) your head. "And what did we sort out?"

"That you're a bit of a cunt. And I'm a twat."

"Second one is accurate."

"That statement just proved the first one.", he retorted, before scoffing and breaking into a fit of breathy giggles. "Fuck."

You watched the world spin for a while, a dizzying amalgamation of shapes and stars and colours and suddenly you were aware of the clothes on your body, the wind in your hair, the saliva on your tongue, the beat of your heart.

And that's when you did it. You weren't sure what you expected or why you did it, but you just ended up kissing him like it was summat you were meant to do next, like a script. Like clockwork.

He, to say the least, was surpised it was you who initiated it. Honestly. He'd always been a very daft person when it came to... well, boundaries, for one. Sane actions, for the other. However, there was something less daft and more... crazed about this drug-induced haze you were clouded in that rendered his self-awareness moot.

And so he kissed back.

Ravenously.

This, it seemed, according to the faux marijuana, was all he ever fucking needed. Poof, no anger issues. And for you? Poof, no stress.

It was wrong, to say the least. Not due to anything besides the fact that there was no logical person who'd put you two together. He groaned softly, almost reverently, as he gripped a couple locks of your hair, a wordless direction for you to get your idiotic arse over here. And you did. The kiss didn't break. You guys should get an award for that impressive feat.

But the real award should be for your desperate, bruising grip to sobriety, the one that eventually led to you pulling yourself away from his lips, breathlessly.

"I know what you're doing."

He wasn't one for biting his lip, so he bit down on yours, instead. "Yeah? What's that, babe?", he asked, fiddling with the button of your jeans.

"You're tryin' to get off the hook of these sessions by claiming conflict of interest 'cause of this."

Oh, fuck, he hadn't even thought of that. Would've been so fuckin' smart, and plus, he'd have got a lay out of it. But he didn't exactly feel like giving a premature end to these sessions that he'd - never fucking admit - grown sort of fond of.

"Or maybe, I'm trying to get off, period.", he whispered, kissing at your cheek.

"Yeah, right."

"Trust issues much?", he murmured, his hand gently sliding into the front of your jeans. "Maybe next session, we should work on that, sweetheart."

Fuck.

════════════════════════ ⋆⋅💙⋅⋆ ════════════════════════

No one ever tells you this - lest you experience some form of joy in life - but waking up to good smells rather than any form of sound is heaps better, calmer, lovelier.

And you woke up, not to the sound of your alarm, but to the smell of goddamn butter and toast. Like, fuck, okay. Damn. This is what life should feel like, then?

You groaned, almost ready to scream at how at peace you were, before getting out of bed, rubbing your face. You shot right back in, though. Right. You were starkers.

"Felix?!"

God, you hoped it was actually him and you hadn't had some sort of adventure after him last night.

He practically left skid marks, the way he rushed to the bedroom doorway. "Uh huh?"

"Where the fuck are my clothes?"

"Oh, I put them in the wash."

"Felix--"

"Just kidding. They're in that drawer, there." Across the room.

"Could you get them for me?"

He smirked. 'Yeah."

"'Yeah' as in you will, or 'yeah' as in you could, but you won't?"

His smirk dissolved into an almost fond simper. "You know me so well."

"I'm not walkin' out naked."

"See, what is it with you girls, gosh! As if I didn't see everything last night, now you're suddenly all coy?", he teased, yanking the drawer open and tossing you your clothes, rolling his eyes before turning around so you could change. "Last night count as a breach of, uh, what is it...?"

"Not breach. But Conflict of Interest. Yeah. So, I'm guessing you're free, now. No more sessions."

"Mm. Shame, that. I had some really interesting things written in there.", he replied, pointing to a blue notebook on the bedside table.

"Like what?"

"Like... me realising I'm falling in love with you.", he whispered, softly, hand on his heart. He paused long enough for you to begin to question whether this was dedication to his joke or an actual, sincere fuckin' confession.

"Fuck! Wow! Gullible much? I'm joking, obviously! What, you think I'd have some, like, ten lines written every day, like 'Oh, my love, oh, my love, XOXO, Felix!', or summat?"

"Well, I don't bloody know! Your'e scarily good at the poker face, y'know?"

"Why, thank you, thank you very much.", he preened, tipping an invisible hat in your direction.

"Makin' French Toast. You vegetarian? Or vegan? Nah, I don't care, you're eatin' this."

Groaning, you got up, took his offer of an unused toothbrush, and let him escort you to the bathroom. "These rich-kid-dorm-suites, I swear--"

"Jealous much?"

"I swear to fucking god, you better stop saying 'much' after everything and thinkin' it's funny!"

"Anger issues much?"

"Arsehole much?!"

He giggled, waving at you before scrambling over to the kitchen to make sure his French toast was stil intact. Not before he grabbed your imaginary 'flipping-off' from the air and brought it to his heart, as if you'd blown him a kiss, instead.

Fucking hell. You had to now spend a. money, on Ibuprofen, b. time on coming up with an explanation as to how this happened and why you still deserve that extra credit, and c. energy on having to deal with this Felix Catton guy who you'd apparently come to be relatively fond of.

Spitting out your paste and gargling the remnants out, you walked out of the bedroom to the kitchen, where Felix had laid out the toast on crappy paper plates. "Left over from a party, figured I'd use 'em."

"Thanks.", you nodded, sitting down and biting a bit off one. "It's good."

"Thanks.", he parroted, dropping the last onto his plate before turning off the stove and sitting opposite you. "So, it just violates it all? Just 'cause we shagged, you can't 'fix me' anymore?", he asked, gulping down a sip of orange juice.

"Yeah, summat like that. I might, like, be more inclined to let you off the hook or whatever."

"Mm. What about your extra credit, then? Why don't you just act like this never happened?"

"Couldn't. In good conscience."

"But then you'll be extremely stressed. Might go back to Donna and her laced weed.", he pointed out, taking a bite. "Over the summer, you'll have to catch up on your missing assignments, yeah?"

"Yeah. Fuck. Oh, yeah, I do.", you whined, your forehead on the heel of your palm.

"Come to Saltburn, then."

"What?" What was he talking about?

"My family estate. Come to Saltburn. It's a change of scenery, and it works wonders, I swear. You'll finish everything by first week of summer vacation, and the next month or so, it's all just you-time."

"Why would I come to Saltburn?"

"I just told you."

You sighed. Logically, yes, it did make sense for a change of view. But. You didn't exactly want to get dragged into whatever a normal day for Felix Catton (and Farleigh Start - his cousin, apparently!) looked like.

"It's full of old shite, though, like, ancient stuff. Cobwebs, dusty, grimy, stuffy-- hey! Stuffy and boring. You'll fit right in.", he grinned cheekily, winking as he continued to chew.

Well, fuck.

"Suspicious much?"

'Much'. You were going to strangle this guy in his own mansion, you're sure.

"Seriously, think about it, just us, ice-cream, the sea, summer. Who knows, you could go in a loser and come out with a boyfriend. Moi."

"Oh, please.", you snickered, and he followed suit.

"I just might tell you what's in that diary. XOXO, Felix, yeah, but what'd I write before it? A confession of my love? A death threat? A riddle? Poetry? Secrets?", he mused, waggling his fingers as if to spook you. "Ooh."

You scoffed, shaking your head in amusement as you took a sip of the orange juice.

"Come on. Come to Saltburn. Worth your while, I promise."

Well, fuck.

175 notes · View notes

magic-shop-stories · 1 month ago

Note

Hiii 💜 Your blog has become such a safe place for me. If it isn't too much and isn't triggering for you, would you be willing to write OT7 headcanons for them finding the reader's old SH scars? Maybe some angst, but definitely more comfort. Thank you so much! 💜

💌 Reply:

hi, there 💜 first THANK YOU for trusting me with this request. your words mean the world, and i’m so glad this space feels safe for you. that’s what i hoped to create... I loved writing these headcanons (angst with comfort is my Roman Empire), and i hope they wrap you in the warmth and care you deserve Sending you universe-sized hugs (id you want). Feel free to reach out again – c –🧸

BTS OT7 x Reader Finding Old SH Scars Headcanons

Pairings: OT7 x Gender-Neutral!Reader (Romantic) Rating: PG-13 (T) Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff Warnings: discussions of self-harm scars, emotional trauma, references to past pain

If you or someone you know needs support, here’s a resource for emergency contacts worldwide.

KIM NAMJOON (RM)

HOW HE NOTICES

on rainy afternoon in his home library

you’re reaching for a poetry anthology on the top shelf

your sleeve slipping slightly as you stretch

he is seated cross-legged on the floor with a notebook

glances up just as the light catches the faint, silvery lines along your forearm

his pen stills mid-sentence

Initial Reaction

his breath hitches

doesn’t gasp or stare

sets down his notebook with deliberate calm

= as if afraid sudden movement might startle you

his mind races

“How did I never notice? Was I not paying enough attention?”

his expression remains soft

brows furrowed in quiet concern

WHAT HE THINKS/FEELS

Guilt

“I should’ve seen it sooner. Did they think they couldn’t tell me?”

Sadness

deep ache settles in his chest

imagining the pain you carried alone

Resolve

“They’re here now. I’ll make sure they never feel that alone again.”

WHAT HE DOES

Grounds Himself First

takes a slow breath

steadying his own emotions

thinks he needs to be an anchor, not another storm

Approaches Gently

rises to stand beside you

hand hovering near yours on the bookshelf

“Can I… help you with that?”

his voice is feather-light

giving you space to pull away

Creates Safety

if you tense, he steps back

“No pressure. Let’s just sit, yeah?”

guides you to the window nook

his arm a loose, comforting weight around your shoulders

WHAT HE SAYS

Opens the Dialogue

“You don’t have to explain. But if you ever want to… I’ll listen.”

thumb brushes your wrist

he's avoiding the scars but radiating warmth

Metaphors of Healing

“You know how trees grow stronger around their wounds? These are like rings.”

traces the air above your arm, not touching

"Proof you grew through the hurt.”

Affirmation

“You’re not broken. You’re brave. And I’m so proud you’re here.”

HOW HE COMFORTS

Physical Reassurance

lets you lean into him

your head tucked under his chin

his heartbeat steady against your ear

= a silent promise

“I’ve got you.”

Symbolic Gestures

later gifts you a potted olive sapling

“They symbolize peace. Maybe… we can grow it together.”

Ongoing Support

leaves a blank journal on your pillow

“For the days words are too heavy. Or for grocery lists. No rules.”

starts a ritual of “quiet hours”

no talking

just shared presence

you find him sketching constellations in the margins of his notebook/or writing lyrics

his shoulder pressed to yours

note: would cry privately afterward, angry at a world that hurt you, but he’ll always smile when you enter the room

KIM SEOKJIN (JIN)

HOW HE NOTICES

happens while you’re baking together

in his sunlit kitchen

you’re rolling dough for sugar cookies

sleeves pushed up to your elbows

Jin, flour dusting his apron, reaches over to steal a chocolate chip

freezes

his eyes catch on the faded lines along your forearm

his playful grin fades

replaced by a stillness that feels heavier than the silence

Initial Reaction

hand hovers mid-air

trembling slightly before he pulls it back

he doesn’t gasp or recoil

his shoulders tense like he’s bracing for a blow

talks softly

voice uncharacteristically quiet

“Let’s… take a break, yeah?”

WHAT HE THINKS/FEELS

Heartbreak

visceral ache

imagining you in pain he couldn’t shield you from

Guilt

“How did I miss this? Was I too busy joking around?”

Protective Fury

at the world, at himself

“I’ll never let them feel that pain again.”

WHAT HE DOES

Creates Space

turns off the oven

guides you to the couch

his hand at the small of your back

his touch is firm but gentle

= like he’s afraid you’ll vanish

Silent Solidarity

doesn’t push

pulls you into his lap

your head tucked under his chin

arms wrap around you like a shield

one hand cradling the back of your head

Acts of Service

finishes baking alone

presenting you with imperfect heart-shaped cookies

“Made with extra love. And… hyung’s tears. Secret ingredient.”

WHAT HE SAYS

Soft Validation

“You don’t have to explain. But if you ever want to… I’ll stay up all night listening.”

Raw Honesty

“I’m not gonna say I understand. But I’ll always try.”

Vow

“You’re stuck with me now. I’ll annoy you with love until you forget how to hurt.”

HOW HE COMFORTS

Routine Reassurance

starts a nightly ritual

texting you a single 🌟 emoji

“So you know I’m here. Even when I’m not.”

Gentle Touch

traces your scars only if you let him

each pass of his thumb a silent promise

“You’re here. You’re safe.”

Unyielding Presence

shows up at your door after bad days with takeout and a dumb rom-com

“No talking. Just… let hyung be your distraction.”

MIN YOONGI (SUGA)

HOW HE NOTICES

late, the kind of night where the studio feels more like a sanctuary than a workplace

you’re curled on the couch in his studio

sleeves rolled up as you sketch absentmindedly

Yoongi glances over from his mixing board

his eyes catching the faint, faded lines on your inner arm

his breath stalls mid-exhale

fingers freezing over the keyboard

swallows hard

heart jumping a beat

Initial Reaction

his shoulders tense

he doesn’t gasp or look away

shuts his laptop with a quiet click

= the sound deliberate but not sharp

his mind flashes to his own past

= sleepless nights, the weight of expectations

he pushes it down

"This isn’t about me."

WHAT HE THINKS/FEELS

Empathy

“I know that kind of pain. I know how it echoes.”

Guilt

“Why didn’t they tell me? Did they think I wouldn’t get it?”

Protectiveness

fierce, quiet anger

not at you

at a world that made you feel this was the only way

WHAT HE DOES

Grounds Himself

takes a swig of water

his jaw tight

won’t let his own history cloud your moment

Approaches Without Pressure

walks to the couch

sits beside you

not too close

hands you his half-finished iced coffee

“You look thirsty.”

= peace offering, not a demand

Creates Space

if you stiffen, he nudges your ankle with his socked foot

“Stay. I’ll… work. If that’s okay.”

WHAT HE SAYS

Soft Opening

“You don’t have to talk. But if you do… I’ll listen.”

his voice is rougher than usual

= like gravel under snow

Shared Truth

“I’ve got scars too. Not the same, but… I get it. The weight.”

rolls up his sleeve just enough to show the faint marks on his wrist

you talk for hours

Promise

“You’re not alone anymore. Not unless you want to be.”

HOW HE COMFORTS

Silent Solidarity

doesn’t push

lets you cry

his hand resting palm-up on the couch cushion

= silent invitation

Practical Care

orders jajangmyeon at 3 a.m.

chopsticks split and ready

“Eat. You’ll think clearer.”

Music as Medicine

plays you a demo track later

= moody piano, no lyrics

“It’s called ‘Enough.’ For… when you forget you are.”

EXTRA: ONGOING SUPPORT

Routine Check-Ins

texts “Studio?” every friday

lets you sit in silence while he works

Small Acts

leaves a hoodie in your bag

“In case it’s cold.”

it’s always his softest one

but also so you can hide the scars when you don' have anything else

Advocacy

quietly donates to mental health orgs under your initials

you find the receipt once

he shrugs

“Tax write-off.”

JUNG HOSEOK (J-HOPE)

HOW HE NOTICES

during a late-night dance practice

you’re both sweating

laughing as he tries to teach you the choreography for “Dynamite”

when you spin, your sleeve slips

revealing a cluster of faint, silvery lines on your inner arm

Hobi’s smile falters mid-count

“Five, six, seven...”

his eyes lock onto your wrist

he freezes

smile dropping

Initial Reaction

his breath catches

he quickly masks his shock with a forced grin

“Let’s… take a water break!”

fumbles with the speaker

hands trembling as he pauses the track

his voice cracks slightly

“You’re doing great, but hydration first, right?”

WHAT HE THINKS/FEELS

Guilt

“How did I miss this? Was I too busy joking around to see they were hurting?”

Heartbreak

imagines you hiding your pain behind laughter

just like he sometimes does

it guts him

Determination

“I’ll be their light. Every day. However they need.”

WHAT HE DOES

Creates a Safe Space

leads you to the practice room floor

sitting cross-legged and patting the spot beside him

“Let’s just… breathe together for a sec.”

mirrors your posture

grounding himself to stay calm for you

Gentle Initiation

slowly reaches for your hand, palm up

= an invitation

“You don’t have to talk. But I’m here. Always.”

Distracts First, Comforts Later

if you tense, he lightens the mood

“Hey, remember when Jin-hyung tripped during the Butter shoot? Classic.”

his eyes stay earnest, waiting for your cue

WHAT HE SAYS

Soft Validation

“You’re so strong, you know that? Like… warrior strong.”

his thumb brushes over your knuckles

avoiding the scars but radiating warmth

Shared Vulnerability

“I get it... feeling like you’ve gotta be ‘on’ all the time. But with me? You can just… be.”

Promise

“However you feel today, tomorrow, forever... I’ll be there. Dancing with you through all of it.”

HOW HE COMFORTS

Physical Reassurance

pulls you into a hug

it's so tight it feels like he’s trying to absorb your pain

rocks you gently

humming “Sweet Dreams” under his breath

Joyful Distractions

shows up the next day with a “Happy Survival Kit”

= silly stickers, banana milk, and a disco ball keychain

“For when the world feels dark. We’ll make our own sparkles.”

Routine Check-Ins

texts you sunrise photos daily

“New day, new Hobi hype! You’ve got this. 💜”

PARK JIMIN

HOW HE NOTICES

during a lazy morning in bed

you’re curled against his chest

his fingers idly tracing patterns on your arm

his touch stills

he grazes a patch of skin that feels uneven under his fingertips

he shifts just enough to see

= cluster of faint, silvery lines you’ve always kept hidden

his breath catches

his hand trembles slightly

doesn’t pull away

Initial Reaction

his eyes widen

lips parting in a silent gasp

tears pool instantly

he blinks hard

biting his lower lip to steady himself

his free hand tightens around yours

= as if anchoring both of you to the moment

WHAT HE THINKS/FEELS

Heartbreak

“You were hurting, and I didn’t know. How did I not know?”

Guilt

sharp pang in his chest

“I should’ve been there”

“I’ll never let you feel that pain again.”

Protectiveness

chest aches with the urge to wrap you in a cocoon of safety

WHAT HE DOES

Fights Tears (And Loses)

presses his forehead to your shoulder

single tear slipping onto your skin

“I’m sorry...”

whispers, voice cracking

“I’m so, so sorry you ever felt this alone.”

Cradles You

gently turns you to face him

hands framing your face like you’re something fragile and sacred

thumbs brush away your tears before tending to his own

Silent Affection

pulls you into his lap

arms locking around you in a hug so tight it steals your breath

his lips press to the crown of your head

"I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

WHAT HE SAYS

Soft Promises

“You’re safe now. Every part of you... every scar, every memory, is safe with me.”

Gentle Questions

“Can I… hold you like this? Always?”

doesn’t ask for details

only for permission to love you through the ache

Raw Honesty

“It hurts to think of you in pain. But I’m proud of you. So proud you’re here, letting me hold you.”

HOW HE COMFORTS

Kisses as Balm

presses feather-light kisses to each scar

his lips trembling

“These don’t own you. You’re the strongest person I know.”

Cuddle Rituals

builds a nest of blankets and pillows

insisting on “us time”

strokes your hair for hours

humming until your heartbeat syncs with his

Affirmation Overload

leaves sticky notes on the mirror

“You’re my hero...” “Your courage takes my breath away.” “I love you exactly as you are.”

EXTRA: ONGOING SUPPORT

Daily Check-Ins

sends sunrise selfies

captions like “Today’s a good day because you’re in it.”

if you’re quiet, he shows up with tteokbokki and a weighted blanket

“No talking needed. Just… let me be here.”

Healing Together

joins you in therapy-approved habits

= yoga at dawn, painting sessions, screaming into the void (his idea)

“However you heal, I’ll be your shadow.”

Guardian of Joy

memorizes your triggers

deflects prying questions from others

becomes your fiercest advocate

“You’re not ‘too much.’ You’re everything.”

KIM TAEHYUNG (V)

HOW HE NOTICES

happens while you’re baking together

you reach for a bag of chocolate chips

sleeve riding up as you stretch. Taehyung

freezes mid-laugh at your joke

eyes lock onto the faint lines trailing your wrist

his wooden spoon clatters into the bowl

= breaking the cozy silence

Initial Reaction

smile fades

replaced by a flicker of raw pain

he doesn’t stare

tho his jaw tightens

hands gripping the countertop like he’s steadying himself

voice uncharacteristically gravelly

“Let’s… take a break, yeah?”

WHAT HE THINKS/FEELS

Anger

hot, helpless rage at the world for hurting you

“Who let this happen? Why didn’t I find you sooner?”

Guilt

“Was I laughing too much? Did I miss the signs?”

Protectiveness

fierce, almost primal urge to shield you from every past and future pain

WHAT HE DOES

Stays Grounded for You

bites back the storm of emotions

focusing on your comfort

takes your hand

calloused thumb brushing your pulse point

“Come sit with me.”

Creates Safe Space

leads you to the couch

wraps a fleece blanket around your shoulders

disappears into the kitchen

returns with two mugs of hot cocoa

piled high with whipped cream and sprinkles

= his go-to comfort ritual

Physical Reassurance

sits close

knees touching yours

doesn’t push

just waits

= his presence a steady anchor

WHAT HE SAYS

Raw Honesty

“I’m mad. Not at you. At everything that made you think this was the only way.”

his voice wavers

tho he holds your gaze

“But I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Gentle Promises

“You’re mine to protect. Every scar, every secret... I’ll carry them with you.”

Hopeful Affirmation

“You’re the strongest person I know. And I’ll remind you every day until you believe it.”

HOW HE COMFORTS:

Hot Cocoa Ritual

makes it your nightly routine

adds silly marshmallow shapes

learns to carve hearts with a toothpick to make you smile

“Extra sprinkles and love for my warrior.”

Silent Vigilance

starts sleeping with his phone on loud

just in case you text late

“Wake me up. Any time.”

Tangible Acts

buys you soft, long-sleeved pajamas

“For cozy days. Or… whenever you need to feel safe.”

JEON JUNGKOOK

HOW HE NOTICES

during a shared gym session

you’re spotting him during bench presses

sleeves rolled up to stay cool

he racks the weights

his eyes catch the faint lines on your inner arm

sits up abruptly

gaze locked on your skin

you yank your sleeve down

he’s already reaching for your wrist

his touch firm but feather-light

Initial Reaction

his grip tightens instinctively

not to restrain but to ground himself

his jaw clenches

veins in his neck taut

“Baby… what’s this?”

voice is low, strained

= like he’s holding back a storm

WHAT HE THINKS/FEELS

White-Hot Anger

first, it’s rage

not at you

at whoever or whatever made you feel this was the only escape

“I’ll kill them. I’ll end them.”

Guilt

“Why didn’t I see it? Why wasn’t I there?”

Heartbreak

throat burns imagining you alone, hurting

WHAT HE DOES

Stops Everything

abandons the weights, towels, water bottles

focus narrows to you

Guides You to Privacy

leads you to the gym’s empty stretching room

locking the door

sits cross-legged on the mat

tugging you down gently

Silent Examination

turns your arm over

tracing the scars with trembling fingers

his touch lingers on his tattoos nearby

= the ARMY ink on his knuckles

(as if reminding himself you’re his to protect now)

WHAT HE SAYS

Raw Honesty

“Who did this to you? Was it you? Why?”

his voice cracks

tears spilling despite his iron grip on your hand

Fierce Promises

“Never again. You hear me? I’ll fight the world before I let you hurt like that again.”

Soft Pleading

“Talk to me. Please. I’ll listen. I’ll always listen.”

HOW HE COMFORTS

Physical Reassurance

pulls you into his lap

arms locked around you like a shield

lips press to your hair

heartbeat frantic against your back

“You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Vulnerability Shares

rolls up his own sleeve

showing faded scars he hid under tattoos

“I hated these. Still do. But you… you make me feel like they don’t matter.”

Action Plan

texts his manager cancel his schedule

“We’re staying home. We’ll eat junk food and watch Howl’s Castle. No arguments.”

EXTRA: ONGOING SUPPORT

Bodyguard Mode

becomes hyper-attentive to your moods

if you retreat to the bathroom too long, he’s knocking with a shaky “Baby? Let me in.”

Tangible Reminders

buys you a delicate chain bracelet

“Wear it when you’re scared. Squeeze it, and I’ll know.”

wears a matching one under his sleeve

Late-Night Rituals

learns your favorite lullabies on guitar

plays them when nightmares strike

his voice rough but steady

“You’re not alone. Ever.”

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