#I should get to attribute it to him positively

[theothin]

Copying over my comment from this post since the original now has reblogs turned off:

It's interesting to consider all of this in full context of how Toshiro is framed in the scene. The argument starts with Toshiro insisting that Marcille was wrong to revive Falin with black magic and that she should go back with him to face punishment from elvish society, then get their help in putting Falin to rest. Laios argues that they can actually help Falin, and that eating properly gives them the strength to pull it off, at which point Toshiro tries to shut Laios down by throwing his past frustrations in his face. When Laios eventually overpowers Toshiro, he attributes it to his party taking proper care of themselves, at which point Senshi shows up to offer Toshiro food. Meanwhile, Maizuru expresses frustration at Toshiro's behavior, and when Toshiro talks about his out-of-the-blue proposal to Falin, Mickbell questions why he would do something like that, while Chilchuck remarks that it's the kind of world he lives in. Every part of Toshiro's position here comes across as antithetical to the protagonists and the quest we're following them on. Even other characters present don't seem to think much of his behavior here. And, while playing that antagonistic role, we see him imposing those social standards on someone who finds them confusing and alienating. The result is that the primary lens through which the viewer is encouraged to see the scene is that of an autistic person being berated for not living up to a set of social standards, and in particular not meeting the standards of Japanese society. And while a Japanese audience might find it easier to understand why Toshiro thinks the way he does, the scene is very clear in sending the message that he is wrong and that, as previous comments noted, he's been stuck in a mindset that's hurting both him and Laios. The outcome of the fight suggests that Toshiro would benefit from learning to think more like Laios about food - and I think the audience is also meant to feel that Toshiro would benefit from learning to think more like Laios about people.

And the addition from @delvinanaris:

More than that, Toshiro’s last line of that scene—expressing his envy of Laios—suggests that he, too, feels that he would benefit from learning to think more like Laios about people.

Also here's the original tweet and a great comment on it:

[martiansodas-blog]

too pretty to think.

when art started to slip, it almost felt like falling asleep…

a. donaldson x reader

word count: 2,216

contents: dumbification, body worship, face sitting, multiple orgasms, cuming untouched, brief mommy kink, subspace, nicknames and pet names, this is freak nasty.

Xx

The first time 

You and Art have been going steady for 6 months and you loved every second of it. the two of you mostly hung out at your place, it's a tad cleaner than his dorm and he never bothered with things like decorations. It was a haven for the both of you. So when your Blackberry buzzed with a message asking,

“r u home?” 

It was hardly out of the ordinary.

“yeah. just changed clothes”

“can i come over?”

“of course”

Donaldson is a man who never knows when to quit. Let's rephrase: He’ll only quit when instructed to. 

He treats his body like a machine. He eats what his nutritionist tells him to, he pushes his body to the limit, and he rarely turns in a paper late. 

When you opened your front door your boyfriend was in chaotic ruins. His eyes were puffy and his cheeks were stained. He stared at the floor with his calloused hands in his pockets.

“Oh my gosh, what happened?? What’s wrong?”

Your tone had urgency as you ushered him inside. Once the door is closed he pulls you in for a hug. You don’t dare speak, just hug back. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. 

It’s obvious he’s trying to hold himself together, but stroking his back caused him to break.

“Aw, baby,” 

You sway him from side to side. 

“Shh, it’s ok. I’m here.”

After a few minutes, Art regained control of his breathing. You put him at arm's length—your voice just above a whisper. 

“Would you like to come lay down with me? We don’t have to talk about it if you don't want to, let's just get you comfortable.”

Art sniffles and nods his head—your poor baby. 

You held his hand and led the way to your room. You sat on your bed with your back against the wall so he could lay between your legs. He often takes this position when you guys are watching movies so it will add a level of comfort for him. 

Art takes some deep breaths as you run your nails through his hair. 

“We got a new coach and he- he’s so intense. I don’t know. I’ve been berated by coaches since I was 13. Why the hell is this one affecting me differently?” 

You twist one of his curls in your fingers. 

“Everything's just so much right now. Schoolwork, post-graduation plans, sponsorships… There's so much going on all the time. I- I can’t do it.” 

Your heart broke for him. 

“I’m so sorry, Artie. I wish I could take it all away from you.”

You rubbed his arms and back for who knows how long. It could have been hours. You didn’t care. You’d cancel your week's agenda if that’s what he needed. You weren’t getting up until he felt better. 

You analyzed his words.

“It’s not that you’re unable to make decisions, and it’s not that you make bad decisions. It’s just that decisions are constant unrelenting work… is that an accurate assessment?”

He nodded and sighed into your shirt like you were the one person in the world who understood him. 

“...And a good boy like you should never have to work.” 

Art froze. 

Well, that’s new. 

You decided to test the waters further and put on your most sultry voice. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll think for you.” 

He let out a sound that can only be described as a mewl. His body curled into a semi-circle. 

You swept some hair out of his eyes, they seemed to get droopier.

I don't know what exactly is transpiring he’s responding to it.

“Let your thoughts go. You don’t need them.” 

Eyes are fully closed now.

“Can you unclench your jaw for me? That’s it.”

He does as he's told, falling deeper into whatever hollow you're creating. He bites back a smile but his blush is evident. So easy to get him to blush. One of his cutest attributes.

Next step is Moving your handsome boy to lay on his stomach so you can rub his shoulders. You hear him sigh while the tension is worked out of his muscles and watch him relax under your hands. 

Walking him through some deep breaths while you place dozens of soft, light kisses on his neck. 

You want to make him understand what a privilege it is to have him.

Rubbing his thighs and calves, slowly melting away the stress of the day. Kisses on the backs of his knees while he laughs and tells you to stop that and that it tickles.

Helping him turn over to lie on his back and climbing carefully on top to straddle him.

You toy with the hem of his shirt. 

“Can I take this off?”

He looks up at you. mouth open and nods. 

It causes you to giggle. 

“Thank you.” 

Once that’s out of the way your hands wander up to his chest while trailing more impossibly light kisses down his Adam's apple. Massaging his chest, squeezing and grabbing and just feeling his skin. 

Kissing his collarbones, trailing your tongue along the dip where they meet under his neck. Slowly working that boy up with teasing touches that only get more and more unbearable.

Slowly returning to his lips to kiss him again while you reach down to trail your fingertips over his cock. He pants and whines so sweetly into your mouth while you play with his cock. You're not even trying to make him cum-- not yet. 

I could do this all day. 

Letting him drift in a fuzzy-headed space while you work your fingers soft and slow over his pants. Doesn't need to worry about anything but your hands on his body. You're right here to keep him safe and make him feel good.

“There's nothing I love more than watching my brilliant, polite, well-spoken boyfriend turn mindless.” 

Art whined and bucked his hips up to meet your hand.

“I need to be in you so bad. Please.”

Who are you to refuse him?

“Don't worry baby, I’ll give you what you want.” 

You slid off him and he reached for you, like he couldn’t stand you being an inch away for any amount of time. You chuckled and took off your bottoms and underwear, he copied. 

You hopped back on top of him, which made him break out into a smile. His girl was about to take care of him. 

You grabbed his cock and started stroking him. 

“I don’t know if I’m wet enough, Artie.”

“Sitonmyface.” He begged all in one breath. 

You bit your lip so as not to laugh at him. It wasn’t in a mean way, no no! He was just so excited about it. It’s adorable and flattering all at the same time.

“Are you sure? We’ve never done that before.”

We haven’t done a lot of this before. 

He shamelessly nodded. Grabbing your waist with both hands and shifting your body up before you could protest. 

“I don’t want to crush you.”

At this point, he was panting. A dog seconds away from getting a treat. 

“You won’t.” 

Art has eaten you out before, and it’s been wonderful. But this? This is a new kind of ecstasy. 

His tongue reaches new trenches. 

And that fucking nose. It bumped your clit every time. You were gasping and making noises you didn’t know were possible. His mouth is memorizing your folds. He's getting off on your arousal.  His tip is red and hurting, but can barely care when a taste crafted just for him is on his lips. 

“Shit. Just like that.” 

Your thighs trapped his face, your breath hitched with every thrust, and your walls clenched around his tongue. 

“Oh god, oh god,” 

Truthfully, Art didn't know which of you came first. 

The only thing he knew was your body. 

You shuffled down and kissed all over his face which was covered in your release. 

“You made mommy feel so good.”

He smiled up at you. He was so proud that he could do that for you. Like it was his purpose in life. And oh did he love that nickname. It made him feel all soft, like when you recall a fond memory. 

“Do you want Mommy to sit on your cock?” 

He whimpered and nodded. 

You lined yourself up with him and sank. It was so easy due to both of your juices, you had to concentrate on lowering slowly so he didn’t bottom out too fast. 

The two of you moaned in unison. It was almost tantric. Even though the focus here is on Art, it’s impossible not to feel the same pleasure. It wasn’t just your sexualities that were aligned but your souls. The love you felt for each other was palpable. 

It didn’t take long for him to bottom out. But it wasn’t enough. You ground your hips into him, causing his voice to raise an octave. 

“Oh fuck. Hnnn! Fuck, feels so good, please.”

He was babbling nonsense, unable to create cohesive thoughts or keep any sounds in. 

You remove his hands clutching the sheets and replace them with your own. To bring him back to earth. 

When he couldn’t get enough he bucked his hips up into yours. Moving aimlessly, mindlessly. You held his hips down to the mattress and bounced on his dick. The sounds of his cock hitting your weeping entrance were insanely beautiful and sinful to listen to. 

“Such a good boy.” 

His dick jumped inside of you at that. Seemingly of its own volition. 

You shifted to pepper kisses on his jawline. The new position forced his cock to rub all kinds of new places. You nearly collapsed onto him from the shock. Heavy exhales leave your mouth. Your pussy suffocates his cock. 

“My good boy. Just a dumb little thing for me to use isn't that right.”

Art came on the spot. No warning. His skin flushed and curls were damp on his forehead. Words were coiled at his throat, coming out as broken sobs, wanting more. 

You rode him until it was clear he'd finished. 

“Did you cum for me, baby?”

“Yes. I'm sorry I should’ve said something I couldn't help it. Felt too good, I didn’t -“

“Shh sweetheart, you did nothing wrong. You can cum in me as many times as you like. That's what I’m here for. That’s what this,” you clenched around him, “is for.” 

“Fuck.” his breath quivering. He arched his back, sensitive little thing. 

“I love it when you spill yourself into me. it’s so warm in here now.” 

You placed his hand on your lower stomach, your womb. 

“Can we go again please?”

“Are you sure? I don't want to push you.”

He shuffled so you were both sitting up. causing you to gasp. His erection never left, and it’s ever so prevalent right now. 

“Please! Wanna keep myself buried here forever.” 

It was hard to remain the level-headed one after hearing that. 

“You make me so wet when you say that, Artie.” 

There's drool coming from his mouth as he watches you talk. Nothing behind those eyes.

“So wet and needy.” 

You soften your voice, and when you talk it’s into his mouth. 

“You gonna let me take you again?”

He groaned and nodded, then ferociously kissed you. He wrapped his strong arms around your torso and immediately disliked how much fabric was between the two of you. He ripped your t-shirt and sports bra off in nearly one motion. Sighing when he felt skin on skin.

“I’m going to play with you until there's nothing in that head except my name.”

And you did. You fucked him till his brain turned to mush. Till it felt so good he thought he was going crazy, till he couldn’t even hear how loud he was being. Just blissed out being pulled back into your cunt. 

What an honor, to have such an obedient, adoring boy like him. 

You let him stay like that, floaty and sweet until he fell asleep to whispered praises. 

“My good boy. You did such a good job for me.”

A kiss to his forehead. 

“You know I love you so much.”

Tucked under the covers.

“So good for me, honey. You're okay. I'm proud of you. You're all mine, and I'm all yours.”

You raked your nails along his back.

“Relax, It'll all be there for you tomorrow. But for right now, all you need to be is my good, sweet boy. And you are.”

You moved off the bed which concerned Art. 

“Are you leaving?” 

He looked like he could cry. You cradled his face. 

“No baby boy, of course not. I’m only getting you some water. I’ll be right back” 

You spoke to him like a child bedridden with a cold. It was clear the comedown was something intense and never experienced before. He needed you next to him right now.

“Alright lovely, I know you’re tired but have a few drinks of this for me.”

You guided the water bottle into his mouth till you were satisfied with the amount he got in his system. 

“Rest now. I’ll cuddle you.” 

The blonde fell asleep immediately in your embrace and you hoped it wouldn't be the last time you took his thoughts away.

[pinkaditty]

high libido jiro headcanon actually has me doing front flips omlll

this is actually a great time 2 share: im writing a long hc post about the ghouls and what i believe their sexual behaviors would be. this was partially inspired by Obey Me!, due to the sins attributing to certain characters manifesting in different ways. for example, both Solomon and Asmodeus have the sin of Lust, right? however, Asmodeus's sin manifests as physical lust, whereas Solomon's manifests as a lust for knowledge. I was thinking about how the ghouls essentially make pacts with demons, and demons typically are tied to a sin, right? i used the classic Seven Deadly Sins, and attributed a sin to each ghoul. im writing their sexual behaviors based off of those sins and how they manifest.

Sneak peek below (edited to be more concise, will be lengthier when officially posted, posting ONE character per house for this, please note that their blurbs are incomplete and i haven't posted all i have written):

I KNOW THIS IS LENGTHY BUT IT'S IMPORTANT TO READ TO UNDERSTAND:

becoming a ghoul, as stated in the story, significantly increases your physical ability, battle prowess, and gives you a “stigma”, or a pact-based power. ghouls outrank humans in strength, resilience, and!!! aggression. while some ghouls are better-natured than others, it goes without saying that they all experience an increase in aggressive behaviors. this should be obvious, but when making a pact with a demon (fictionally speaking!!), i imagine that making such pacts with beings that are avatars of “sin” increases the desire to sin and decreases aversion to it. i like to think that indulging in sin becomes not exactly “necessary”, but vital in the sense that they can live without it but it makes human-esque day-to-day living harder. eventually the "sin" cravings get out of control and they have to indulge in some sort of sin, namely the sin they are the most associated with, because they “devoured” the demons they made pacts with. for example, say jin made a pact with a demon that specialized in sloth. when his cravings get out of control, he needs to indulge in sleeping in all day (or doing something similar) at least once. note that, like in Obey Me!, the sins may manifest differently. for example, i believe both jin and ren made pacts with demons that are sloth-based, but jin’s sin manifests in sleeping while ren’s manifests in avoidance.

as far as sexual behavior goes, the sins the ghouls participate in affect their sexual behavior, i think, just as they affect their personality and societal behaviors and interactions. for example, sloth-based ghouls may prefer doing little work during sex or have a preference for low effort positions; whereas glutton-based ghouls may prefer doing as much as possible, in as many positions possible, for as long as possible, regardless of how physically strenuous.

one more hc: it isn’t impossible, but it is excruciatingly tough for a ghoul to avoid (for lack of a better word) a creampie, if you will, when not wearing a condom. they are ghouls after all, and as such, will experience more aggressive and carnal sexual behaviors. contraception drugs with immediate effects are sold at the campus store LMFAOAOAOOA

Tohma Ishibashi (Greed-based):

this guy is power-hungry i fear, and thank goodness his boss is a sloth! he can pick up the leadership role all he wants. 

this guy is greedy bc he wants power for the sake of having it. y’know that trope where it’s really the king’s advisor pulling the strings? yea.

he wants more. he wants more. he wants more. 

without indulging myself too terribly much… if jin, alan, or haku had you, tohma would covet you even more than he already would if you were still single.

haha what? nevermind.

anyways we all already know how he indulges in his greed. how does he do so sexually?

in simple terms he wants more of everything from you

you suck him off? okay do it again. 

you came on his tongue? okay do it again. 

you clench your walls tight around his cock to make him cum faster? okay, after he recovers, do it again.

there can never be too much. if anything, there’s never enough.

Leo Kurosagi (Envy-based):

not gonna lie i kinda flip-flopped between greed and envy for him

but ultimately i think envy suits him best

i think envy is what spurs most, if not all, of his harmful or demeaning actions towards others

he’s jealous! god forbid someone do something better than he does. they’re guaranteed to become his next target. 

and it’s always personal, no matter how hard he tries to convince himself otherwise

because of this, i think he’d be selfish during sex

he wants more pleasure than his partner out of something, and if he’s not being directly stimulated, he wants something beneficial to him out of it

that said, he’s easy (i say this with love)

so it’s never a problem to convince him to do what you want, so long as you pay him back with interest later

its all about the trade! but lowkey he’s happy to do anything you ask, so long as you pay attention to him specifically. keep your eyes on him while he’s giving you head and i promise he’ll cum untouched.

Haru Sagara (Glutton-based):

my gluttony king…<3

can’t explain it i just feel it

he’s not greedy bc greed is wanting something for the sake of having it, while gluttony is wanting something for the pleasure of consuming it

consider him at Rui’s bar. always drinking too much.

consider him in his dorm. always working too much.

but does he enjoy it? yea. absolutely. even when he gripes he never says he’d rather do something else. 

he does it because it gives him pleasure, regardless of what way, which is what makes me believe he’s glutton-based

i think this guy’s a masochist that likes ass im not gonna hold y’all.

he hardly pays his own pain any mind, and if anything, seems to enjoy putting himself in pain for attention (more gluttony hints, he loves consuming attention)

and has not only brought up being smacked on the ass himself, but has smacked someone’s ass in the story. 

he also just repeatedly brings up ass regardless of whether or not the conversation had anything to do with it. 

he’s a horny guy i fear. i dunno. i just feel it. why do you think he likes those rabbit-like animals so much? he’s basically one himself. sex-loving freak (/affectionate!!).

he likes to go more than one round, and probably recovers quicker than most. 

once you’ve gone one round, unless this was a quickie in the kitchen while he’s making dinner or even in his room while Ren watches Peekaboo, you can expect at least one more, and at most four more. 

he likes quickies actually, let me just put that out there

Romeo Lucci (Pride-based):

you would THINK greed, i know, i get it, but i think that greed is just part of his personality. he’s just like that. PRIDE is the sin of the demon he devoured.

he wants you shivering in his presence. it fuels his ego. 

i don’t think he cares for the money as much as he cares about his ego. i think the income the casino makes fuels his ego as the guy running it, so he always wants record profits to fuel his ego.

does that make sense? like, sure, the casino makes money and all, but for romeo, it’s more about ego than monetary gain.

why do you think he wants everybody calling him “fico” and brags about his high end products and complains when even a single thing doesn’t go his way?

its all ego, that’s why.

that said, boy i hope you’re prepared to feed his ego when you finally screw him.

has a major praise kink because of it

tell him how pretty he is, pounding into you! he’ll try not to smile like a drunken freak.

Haku Kusanagi (Lust-based):

MY FAVVVV OUUUUGHGHHGHGHHHHHHH MY FAVVVVVVVVV

haru makes a close 2nd place if u couldn’t tell. but this guy?? nnnmmmmffffghghhhh…

he seems so incredibly normal and im not saying he’s not but im saying he has a much stronger libido than others around him. like, incubus strength.

rather than lust for attention or knowledge or something else, he literally lusts for sex. he’s physical lust-based. 

to him, it kind of sucks. he’s not super fond of it. i mean, what kind of future priest gets boners this frequently? come on man. 

at the same time, though, he can’t say it’s… all bad. its exhilarating in a way, and he kind of likes being horny all the damn time. 

to be clear, it’s not ALL the time… just relatively often. 

he’s a little conflicted and overall has mixed feelings on it. 

anyone complimenting his looks, which happens often (as seen in Hotarubi’s story), can just get him hard randomly.

god forbid you compliment him, even once. he’s rock hard immediately. it’s embarrassing.

thankfully though, he does an excellent job at hiding it. being used to it has it’s perks.

he’s abnormally good at hiding his arousal though, like you wouldn’t be able to tell unless you pressed yourself directly against his crotch. 

when the cravings get bad, however… he can’t hide it anymore. thankfully though, a very long, very self-indulgent jack off session that lasts a day will stave it off. 

once he has you, though… ohohohohoooo boy. 

you end up spending more time at hotarubi than you do in the chapel

you’re always sleeping over. you’re always waking up with hickeys. you’re always doing the walk of shame the following morning.

Rui Mizuki (Glutton-based):

not going to hold you, this one should be obvious

this is rui we’re talking about. the touch-starved, flirty womanizer. what do you think he’s going to constantly want more of for the pleasure of consuming it?

hell, i like to believe that prior to his curse, he was a super touchy guy. he loved to hug people or perform small acts of intimacy, like ruffling someone’s hair or rubbing their arms or holding their hands. he loved that! and he’s been robbed of it.

he is a pure glutton for touch, i know it.

(we are going to act like theoretically you can fuck him)

this said: do not let your hands leave him during sex. don’t!

something about hands in particular. how dearly he has missed and craved the simplest form of contact: via hands

he will be desperate to touch you, all over, with his hands, and he wants you to feel the same

the sex will be bareback. sorry.

Jiro Kirisaki (Sloth-based):

high libido king. low energy king.

the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak!

i theorize it’s not just his illness that tears him apart, it’s also his sin of sloth

since he doesn’t indulge in it much (and isn’t really allowed to), his body oftentimes shuts down involuntarily to preserve itself, yk?

this being said…

i like to think he has an abnormally high libido

but he can’t often contribute time to it, what with him being so busy with research he hardly showers daily AND him being sick AND him needing to indulge in sloth. he barely has the time to jack off, really.

during sex, he’s generally pretty malleable to whatever you want, granted he doesn’t have to work too hard. 

will he blow your back out? sure! will he start out slow thrusting until he’s close and then speed up the pace to blow your back out? yea.

he can only go one round sorry! you’re not getting much out of him. but, surprisingly, he recovers quicker than most. so if, after an hour or so, you wanted to go again…

this was supposed 2 be a sneak peek but i think i did too much lmfao???

lowkey i was embarrassed 2 post this. this is the rawest stage of my work. straight from the brain and pure headcanon at that.

if u want 2 be tagged when this post is completed, let me know!

questions, comments, or even concerns? let me know!! and, of course, do let me know if you enjoyed the sneak peek at all.

EDIT: why is my brainslop getting likes lol? anyways I edit this 2 tag: @cupcakesmoothie and @aayakashii I put content of ur favs in this post and forgot 2 tag y'all 🫡 shame on me

[carnationworld-writings]

The Man He Didn’t Have to Be (Tim Bradford x fem!reader)

To read my other works, check my MASTERLIST !

Paring: Tim Bradford x reader

Universe: The Rookie

Word Count: 3857

Requested: No

Warnings: pregnancy, divorce, ex-husband who is a piece of s*it, mention of childbirth

If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your well-being is a top priority to me.

Summary: When her world crumbles, Tim is there to step up.

Author’s note:

Surprise! I am alive! I know it's not what you wanted but, I started watching "The Rookie" and fell in love with Tim! So I needed to write something about him. I also may have a baby fever (again...) So this fic happened. Enjoy!

Thank you for taking the time to read my work! I would greatly appreciate any feedback you may have as it motivates me to continue improving. Please don't hesitate to share your thoughts!

And please forgive any grammar or spelling errors, as English is not my first language.

Klaudia 💜

Every time she thought her life couldn’t get worse, something new seemed to be waiting for her. First, her husband announced he was leaving, telling her he’d found a woman he loved in a way he had never loved her. She tried to fight for their marriage and convince him to change his mind, but nothing worked. With a broken heart, she finally decided to let him go. Even though her heart shattered into a thousand pieces, she signed the divorce papers. She attempted to rebuild her life—she found a small apartment, focused on her work, and tried not to sink into depression during the long, lonely hours. Thankfully, she wasn’t entirely alone. Tim Bradford, her best friend for years, had always been by her side, even in the middle of the night when she couldn’t stop crying or obsessing over what had gone wrong in her relationship. He was her rock, her greatest support.

Just when she thought her life was starting to settle down, she began feeling unwell. At first, she attributed it to stress, but eventually, she connected the dots and took a pregnancy test, which came back positive. She knew her ex-husband deserved to know the truth, even if he hadn’t been entirely honest with her. So, she texted him and asked to meet. What followed, however, was nothing short of her worst nightmare.

When they met at the café, she felt as if time had slowed down. He sat across from her, completely indifferent, as if everything that had happened between them was a closed chapter. He looked at her with a cold gaze, waiting for her to speak. She struggled to gather the strength to say the words that had been swirling in her head for days.

“I’m pregnant,” she finally said, looking straight at him, searching for any reaction. His face remained expressionless. For a moment, she thought maybe he hadn’t heard her. But after a second, his lips tightened, and his eyes showed a flicker of displeasure.

“The relationship between us was over long before I found someone else. This changes nothing,” he said coldly. Those words cut her like a knife. 

“I’m not telling you to come back to me… It’s your child and deserves to have a father… ” she tried to insist, though her voice trembled.

“That’s your problem. You’ll have to deal with it,” he replied emotionlessly, standing up from the table as if the meeting had been nothing more than an irritating interruption in his perfectly arranged new life.

When he left, she felt as if the world was collapsing around her. Tears welled up in her eyes, but this time, she wasn’t going to cry. Instead, she pulled out her phone and called Tim. As soon as he heard her voice, he knew something was wrong.

“Where are you?” he asked, no questions needed. “I’m on my way.”

It wasn’t even fifteen minutes before Tim was by her side, his eyes filled with concern. Without a word, he pulled her close, letting her lean on him as she fought back the tears. In his presence, she felt the tension in her body begin to ease.

“Tim… There’s something you should know. I…” She took a shaky breath. She felt his hold tighten around her. He rested his cheek against her head, softly rubbing her back with his hand.

“Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together. Like we always do,” he said calmly, trying to give her as much comfort as possible.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered, feeling a lump in her throat. “And it’s his. But he said it’s only my problem. He doesn’t want anything to do with this baby…” For a moment, his face showed surprise, as if he was trying to process what he had just heard. He didn’t say anything at first, pulling back slightly to look at her, and she wasn’t sure how he would react. She feared that silence, that hesitation.

“Okay,” he finally said, slowly. Tim pressed his lips together, clearly upset, though he tried to stay calm. “He’s a jerk. But you won’t go through this alone. You’ll never be alone—I won’t let that happen.”

True to his word, Tim never let her feel alone. From the moment he learned about her pregnancy, he stepped naturally into a role that felt both essential and reassuring. He took over her usual shopping, refusing to let her carry a single bag, insisting it was the least he could do. Each morning, he arrived at her door with fresh breakfast, right after his run with Kojo, the loyal dog who seemed to sense the changes happening in their lives.

Even during his shifts, Tim made it a point to check-in. He texted her regularly, asking how she felt, and called just to hear her voice, attuned to any subtle shifts in her mood. But his favourite part of the day was always the evenings when he would come to her home. Most nights, she greeted him with a smile, though the fatigue etched on her face often told a different story. Each time, he pulled her into a warm embrace, holding her like a protective blanket. Some nights she hugged him back just as tightly; other times, she simply leaned into him, letting him hold her. On those nights, he sent her to the couch, where Kojo would curl up beside her, resting his head on her lap, seeking her affection.

Tim loved cooking dinner for them, always mindful of preparing meals that wouldn’t upset her stomach. He quickly learned what she could tolerate and what made her feel worse. On the rare occasions, his cooking didn’t go as planned, he would kneel beside her in the bathroom, holding her hair back and rubbing her back—his unwavering support something she had come to rely on deeply.

What he cherished most were their late-night conversations. They talked endlessly, about work, their future, and even the small details of their day. These talks deepened their bond with each passing evening.

But tonight felt different. From the moment he arrived, he noticed the exhaustion in her eyes, the way her thoughts seemed miles away. Sensing the shift, he suggested watching a movie they’d been meaning to catch up on. She quietly agreed, thankful for the distraction, and didn’t protest when he pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her.

As they settled in, her hand absentmindedly rested on her stomach, where a small bump had just begun to show. Though she tried not to dwell on it, her mind wandered back to something a colleague had said earlier. The words echoed painfully in her thoughts—that it was her fault her husband had left, and that Tim was only with her out of pity. The sting of those words hung heavy on her heart. Tim had always been her rock, but now, more than ever, she felt guilty leaning on him. This wasn’t his burden to carry; she had to find her strength in the chaos.

“Tim,” she began softly, breaking the silence. “I feel like I’ve dragged you into something you didn’t sign up for. This isn’t your responsibility. Me, this baby… we’re not your burden.”

Tim frowned, shaking his head firmly. “That’s not how I see it. I want to be here. I choose to be here. You’re important to me—always have been, always will be. Now that just extends to your baby too. You’re not dragging me into anything. I’m choosing this.”

She blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. The certainty in his voice made her heart ache in the best possible way. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to go through this alone. Yet doubt still lingered on the edges of her mind.

“Are you sure?” she whispered, her hands trembling slightly. “This is going to change everything.”

“I’m sure,” he replied without hesitation. Gently, he placed his hand over hers, almost covering her small bump. “We’re in this together. All three of us.” They both chuckled softly as Kojo, lying contentedly by her feet, gave a small bark. “Alright, four of us,” Tim added with a grin.

She nodded slowly and leaned back against his side. No matter what uncertainties lay ahead, Tim brought peace and safety into her life. As she felt him press a soft kiss on the top of her head, she knew that he was in this 100 percent. With him by her side, she felt ready to face every step of the journey ahead.

As the movie played in the background, a warm sense of comfort washed over her. Despite the unknowns of the future, she had her best friend, someone who believed in both her and the life they were building together. And together, they could face whatever came next.

The quiet hum of the ultrasound machine filled the small room, the rhythmic beeps syncing with her heartbeat. The sound, once foreign and unnerving, had become strangely comforting, marking each milestone of a journey she’d never thought possible. Lying back, her hand rested gently on her growing belly, feeling the warmth of the life moving inside her—a sensation that was as awe-inspiring as it was surreal. The nurse moved the cold, gel-covered probe across her skin, and though a shiver ran up her spine, she barely registered it. Her eyes were locked on the screen, waiting for the familiar grainy image of her baby to appear.

And then it did—a blur at first, slowly sharpening into the unmistakable shape of tiny hands and feet, twisting and turning as if to greet them. A soft gasp escaped her lips. No matter how many times she witnessed this, it always left her breathless.

Tim sat beside her, his eyes fixed on the monitor, a quiet smile playing on his lips. His face, usually so composed, softened with awe. He had always been good at hiding his emotions, but moments like these stripped away his calm facade. Without thinking, his hand found hers, their fingers entwining in a silent exchange of support. He gave her a gentle squeeze, then leaned in and pressed a light kiss on the top of her hand. It was a gesture so natural, so full of unspoken affection, that it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

"Everything looks perfect," the nurse said, her tone upbeat as she wiped the gel from her belly. "Baby’s healthy and growing right on track."

She nodded, a wave of relief washing over her. The tight knot of anxiety that had taken up residence in her chest loosened—if only a little. Each passing month had brought new fears and uncertainties, but slowly, those feelings were giving way to cautious hope. It had taken longer than she expected to feel this way, but now, she could finally begin to see herself as a mother. And in every vision of that future, Tim was always there, steady and unwavering, just as he had been from the beginning.

After the appointment, Tim stood and offered her his hand, helping her off the exam table with the ease of someone who had been there through every step. His presence had become her constant, a source of comfort she hadn’t known she would need but now couldn’t imagine living without. Over the months, he had kept every promise, never wavering, never complaining—always there, even when she didn’t know how to ask for help.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as they stepped outside the clinic, the crisp air hitting their faces. His hand hovered near her arm, close but not quite touching—a subtle, protective gesture, ready to catch her if she stumbled.

“I’m good,” she said, a small smile pulling at her lips. “Better than I’ve felt in a long time.”

He nodded, clearly pleased, though his eyes still scanned hers, searching for any sign of discomfort or worry. “You’re handling this like a champ,” he said softly.

She let out a light laugh. “I don’t always feel like it, but I’m trying.”

As they walked to his car, their footsteps fell into an easy rhythm, the silence between them comfortable and familiar. When they reached the car, Tim opened the passenger door for her, but before getting in, she paused, turning to face him, her expression suddenly serious.

“Tim,” she began, her voice quiet but steady, “you’ve been amazing. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. I mean it. You’ve taken care of us—even though you didn’t have to.”

He looked at her, his warm, reassuring smile never faltering. “You don’t need to thank me,” he replied softly. “I’m just glad I can be here.”

But she saw something flicker in his eyes—something deeper, something he wasn’t saying. Tim was always so careful, so controlled with his emotions, but she had known him long enough to recognize when he was holding something back. Yet she didn’t press him. Not now.

As they drove back to her apartment, the conversation shifted to lighter topics—baby names they hadn’t yet decided on, the nursery they were slowly piecing together, and the never-ending stream of baby books filling her apartment. They laughed about the absurd number of gadgets people swore they "needed" for a newborn, trading jokes about the most ridiculous ones.

Yet beneath their playful banter, there was a tension neither acknowledged, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air. Tim had always kept his distance emotionally, respectful of her space, never pushing her for more than she was ready to give. He had made it clear from the start that he was there to support her, no matter what, and he had lived up to that promise in every way. But that didn’t stop his heart from racing when she smiled, or the way his pulse quickened when their hands brushed accidentally.

He had loved her for years—long before she had married before everything had fallen apart with her ex-husband. Tim had watched her fall for someone else, had been there when her heart broke, and now, here he was, still by her side. Taking care of her, taking care of the baby that wasn’t his.

He never said anything. He couldn’t. His feelings had to wait. Right now, all that mattered was her and the baby. His love, his desires—they would come later. For now, being there was enough. It had to be.

As the weeks passed, their lives settled into a comforting rhythm, though they didn’t notice the subtle shift that began to happen between them. Unspoken feelings hovered just beneath the surface, and they found themselves growing closer, more open with one another. Friends started to notice too. They exchanged knowing smiles as Tim’s touch lingered a little longer on her arm or back.

Angela Lopez had rolled her eyes more than once when hearing endless stories about “Tim’s friend” and all the thoughtful things he did for her and the baby. Whenever she visited the station with sweet treats for everyone, Angela often caught Tim and her in quiet moments, where their connection seemed palpable. More than once, Angela noticed the way she would place his hand over her bump when the baby kicked, and how Tim responded with a smile that said more than words ever could.

The biggest change came one evening while they were assembling the crib. She sat comfortably in a rocking chair, one hand resting on her belly, the other absentmindedly petting Kojo’s head as he lay beside her. The dog had become as protective of her as Tim was, always at her side when he could be.

She watched as Tim wrestled with the instruction manual, his brow furrowed in concentration. “You’re doing it wrong,” she teased, smiling.

“I am not,” he shot back, glancing up with mock indignation. “I’ve got this.”

As he fumbled with the crib parts, she laughed—a sound that felt like a rare gift these days. For a moment, it was just like old times—before the pregnancy, before the heartbreak. Just the two of them, shared an easy, familiar joy that felt like home.

Tim looked up from the pieces scattered on the floor and froze for a second, watching her laugh. He hadn’t heard that sound in too long. It was unguarded, real. He smiled, letting himself soak in the moment.

“Well, if you’re so good at this, why don’t you help instead of just sitting there judging my work?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

She grinned. “I’m perfectly comfortable where I am, thanks. Besides, you’re doing great. It’s... entertaining.”

He chuckled and shook his head, returning to the task, muttering under his breath about her stubbornness. But secretly, he didn’t mind. Knowing she was there, watching him, laughing—it felt right. Like this was exactly where they were meant to be.

As the crib finally took shape, something between them shifted. There was an unspoken understanding in the air, something neither had fully acknowledged until now. Tim glanced at her, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other.

He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek longer than necessary. She leaned into his touch, her breath catching in her throat.

That was all the encouragement he needed.

Without thinking, Tim leaned in and kissed her, softly at first, hesitant. But when she kissed him back, her hand slipping to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. This—this—was where they were always meant to end up.

Together.

She struggled to breathe deeply as she slowly made her way down the hospital corridor, her grip tightening around the IV stand. Another contraction surged through her, pulling a low moan from her lips. She tried to focus on the gentle support of Nyla’s hand on her arm, but the pain was too consuming—sharp and overwhelming. When it finally ebbed, she glanced over at Nyla, her eyes filled with worry.

“Have you heard from Tim?” Her voice cracked, and tears welled up as she caught Nyla’s sympathetic smile.

“I texted him, and Grey knows to pass the message along. He’s coming,” Nyla reassured her. “Tim wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

She nodded, but a flicker of doubt gnawed at her. “I hope so… I don’t know if I can do this without him.” Her words were barely more than a whisper, her emotions unravelling.

“You’re stronger than you think,” Nyla said softly, her hand squeezing in quiet encouragement. “But he’ll be here, don’t worry.”

She tried to smile, but the uncertainty lingered. Tim had been her rock for so long—how could she face this moment without him? Nyla’s presence was a comfort, but it wasn’t the same.

They continued their slow walk back to the room for another check-up. The nurse met them with a concerned expression before examining her. When she announced that she was still far from delivering, a groan of frustration escaped her. She sank onto the bed, burying her face in her hands.

“I don’t know how much more I can take,” she whispered, her voice thick with exhaustion. “I just want to hold my baby.” Nyla brushed a lock of hair from her face, her steady presence an anchor.

“Soon,” she promised gently. “Soon.”

The hours crawled by in a blur of contractions and fleeting moments of rest. She clung to Nyla’s guidance, her body trembling from fatigue until the door suddenly swung open. Her breath caught as Tim rushed inside, his face flushed with worry.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, hurrying to her side. His hand found hers instantly, and the crushing weight of fear lifted just a little.

“You’re here,” she whispered, her voice breaking with relief as fresh tears filled her eyes. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, his touch grounding her in the storm of pain and anxiety.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her forehead. His presence radiated warmth, steadying her as another contraction gripped her.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she managed between ragged breaths, her emotions spiralling. “I don’t know how I’d get through this without you.”

“You would,” he said softly, squeezing her hand. “But now that I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” His gaze held hers, his thumb brushing soothing circles on her skin as another wave of pain washed over her.

They endured the hours together, Tim never leaving her side. His strength, and his quiet, unwavering support gave her the determination she needed to push through. The world blurred around them as they focused on bringing this new life into the world.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, the sharp, piercing cry of a newborn filled the room. She gasped, tears streaming down her face as the nurse placed the tiny, wriggling bundle on her chest. Her arms instinctively wrapped around the baby, and she looked up at Tim. His eyes were wide, filled with awe and tears he didn’t bother to wipe away.

She looked down at the baby, overwhelmed by the fragile, perfect little face scrunched up in protest. "Hi, sweet baby," she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. Her fingers brushed gently over the baby’s soft cheek. "I’m your mom."

Tim stood by her side, his hand resting on her shoulder as he gazed at the baby with pure wonder. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "She’s perfect," he whispered, unable to look away.

“We did it,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his in a moment of shared joy.

Tim bent down, pressing a kiss to the baby’s head. "Welcome to the world," he murmured. "We’ve been waiting for you."

The baby’s cries softened, and the room fell into a peaceful quiet as if time had paused, leaving just the three of them cocooned in the moment. She couldn’t stop the tears—this time, they were tears of love, of pure joy. This was a happiness she had never known, a completeness she hadn’t imagined was possible.

“Do you want to hold her?” she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

Tim hesitated but then nodded, his hands gentle as the nurse helped him take the baby into his arms. He cradled the tiny bundle as though it were the most precious thing in the world, and in that moment, his love was unmistakable.

"Hi there... I’m Tim," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat. He paused, then added, “I’m not your dad, but I promise I’ll love you like one.”

Her heart swelled at his words. Reaching out, she rested her hand on his arm, gazing at the baby in his arms. “Tim... you are the father she deserves. You’ve cared for her from the start. You’ve been there every step of the way... and I love you for that.”

As the baby stirred, Tim smiled through his tears, and for the first time, she felt truly whole. This was their family—imperfect, unexpected, but overflowing with love. And as Tim bent down to kiss her lips, sealing the moment, she knew that they had found their way home.

[eu-nicola]

one night

summary: one night with Max left a problem that you didn't talk to him about

warnings: pregnancy, and idk you tell me

word counter: 8005

author’s note: english is not my first language

The night was charged with a strange electricity that you didn't know how to explain. It was one of those improvised meetings in the house of a mutual friend, where laughter and talk mixed with the low sound of the music. You had known Max all your life, shared years of friendship, confidences and mutual support. He had always been your refuge, the kind of person who could read you with a single look.

That night, however, everything felt different.

Max was sitting next to you on the couch, closer than usual, and you couldn't help but notice every detail of his presence. The way his fingers played with the edge of his glass, the sound of his deep laughter when someone told an absurd joke, and how his eyes seemed to look for yours more than necessary. You tried to ignore it, attributing everything to your imagination, but it was useless. There was something there, something that both seemed to feel but did not want to admit.

The night advanced and the hours became more blurry. Most of the guests had left, leaving only a small group of close friends. But even they began to disappear, until you found yourself alone with Max in the dimly lit room.

"Another glass?" he offered you, getting up to fill your glass of wine.

"I don't know if I should," you replied, laughing softly, but you accepted anyway.

The conversation became more intimate, the topics more personal. They talked about the moments they had shared, how they had changed on time. At some point, Max leaned towards you, his expression more serious than usual.

"Have you ever wondered...?" he began, but left the phrase in the air.

"What?" you asked, feeling how your heart was racing.

He shook his head, as if he had decided not to say it. But his eyes told you something he couldn't put into words. Then it happened. A moment of courage - or madness - led you to close the distance between the two. The kiss was unexpected, intense, full of years of repressed feelings that finally found a way out.

The night continued between caresses and whispers, the outside world disappearing completely. For a few hours, everything felt like it was fine, as if this was what both had been waiting for without knowing it.

But the next morning, reality struck like a bucket of cold water. Max was in the kitchen when you woke up, his movements tense, avoiding your gaze. They barely spoke, an uncomfortable silence that looked nothing like the dynamics they had had for years.

"Last night..." he began, scratching the back of his neck, "it was... unexpected.

"Yes, it was," you admitted, pretending to feel a tranquility that you didn't feel.

They both knew that something had changed, something they couldn't ignore, but they didn't know how to handle it either. So, slowly, they began to move away. Messages that were previously constant became sporadic, and then non-existent. The calls stopped. His absence hurt, but you didn't know what to do about it.

Weeks later, while trying to move on with your life, you realized that something was not right. Morning sickness, constant fatigue, and the absence of your period led you to buy a pregnancy test at the pharmacy, your hands shaking while you waited for the result.

Two lines. Positive.

Your mind was filled with questions, fears and doubts, but one thing was clear: the baby was Max's. And although your first instinct was to call him, reason prevailed. Max had been in a serious relationship with Kelly for a while, a woman who had a little daughter whom he had accepted as his own. You knew he was committed to that life, and you couldn't ruin it all.

You decided to keep quiet. You would raise your baby alone, without complicating anyone else's life. But deep down, you knew that this secret would not be easy to carry. The life you had shared with Max felt like a distant memory, a "and if" that would never have a response.

You refused to think too much about what it implied. The more you thought about it, the more you sank into a whirlwind of contradictory emotions: fear, sadness, pride, and a kind of determination that you didn't know you had. You knew that your life would change drastically, but you also knew that you didn't want Max to be part of this new chapter. Not because you didn't trust him, but because his life was already defined, and you didn't want to be the person who broke it to pieces.

The decision was clear to you: you needed space, distance, something that would help you start again without Max's shadow and his responsibilities. So, little by little, you began to prepare your escape.

First, you stopped frequenting the places where you knew you might meet him. You changed your phone number, blocked almost all mutual friends on your social networks and pretended that you needed "time for yourself" when someone asked about your disappearance. Weeks passed, and your pregnancy began to be harder to hide. You looked in the mirror every morning, noticing the changes in your body and reminding yourself why you were doing it.

One day, after a visit to the doctor, you sat in your car and made the final decision. You looked at the familiar streets around you, the places that had always been your home, and you knew it was time to leave them behind.

London. You had always wanted to live there, and now it seemed like the perfect opportunity to start over. Without telling anyone but your boss, you submitted your resignation, packed your things and booked a plane ticket. The plan was simple: you would settle in an apartment, work in your family's company as they had wanted so long, and raise your baby away from any possibility of Max discovering the truth.

When you arrived in London, the city greeted you with a cold and humid air, typical of early autumn. You moved to an apartment in a quiet area, with enough cafes and parks nearby to keep you busy.

Then you had disappeared from the digital radar for months. Your social networks, which used to be full of spontaneous photos, updates and everyday moments, had been left in absolute silence. You hadn't posted anything for a long time, and although you kept looking from time to time, reviewing the stories and publications of others, you made sure not to leave any traces of your presence. It was as if you had become a ghost that I watched from a distance.

People began to notice your absence. You knew it because, when reviewing your old posts, you found endless comments asking you where you were. "Everything okay?", "We miss you", "Why haven't you uploaded anything?" some said. Others simply left emojis, hearts, or words of support. But even when nostalgia for your previous life invaded you, you still didn't respond.

It wasn't exactly fear, but a feeling of wanting to protect this very personal stage. The pregnancy had been a roller coaster of emotions: illusion, uncertainty, and moments of loneliness that you fought remembering why you were doing this. Your little world in London had become your refuge, and sharing it with the rest of the world still didn't seem necessary to you.

But everything changed when the month came in which you decided to know the gender of your baby. The doctor's appointment was marked on your calendar, and you couldn't deny that you were excited and a little nervous. It was a strange feeling, as if knowing the gender made everything even more real, as if the baby that grew inside you began to take the form of a person you would soon meet.

The doctor's room was lit with a warm light, and the constant sound of the monitor filled the air. You lay back on the stretcher, taking a deep breath while the doctor applied the cold gel to your belly. The screen in front of you showed the blurred silhouette of your baby, and you felt that knot in your chest that always invaded you when you saw it.

"Do you want to know the gender?" the doctor asked, with a smile.

"Yes, please," you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

The moment they told you was unforgettable. A child. A child who would soon become the center of your world. You smiled as tears accumulated in your eyes. For an instant, all the doubts, fears and difficult decisions vanished, replaced by pure and simple happiness.

That same afternoon, while you were walking back to your apartment, you decided it was time. For the first time in months, you felt the impulse to share this part of your life with others. It wasn't out of pressure, or to please anyone, but because you wanted to celebrate this little miracle you were waiting for.

You took a couple of pictures, wearing a white dress that highlighted your belly. The brightness of your skin, the pride in your eyes and the shy smile on your face were more than evident. You weren't the type to plan great revelations, but you knew you wanted to do something special.

You sat on the edge of your bed, carefully selecting the images and writing a description that reflected how you felt:

"After months of silence, I finally want to share the reason why my world changed. I'm expecting a beautiful baby, a boy who will arrive soon to light up my life. I can't explain in words the joy and love I feel knowing that I will be a mom. Thank you to everyone who has been asking about me and worrying in silence. I'm fine, better than I've been in a long time. 💙”

You took a breath before publishing it, hesitating for a moment. What would happen if this reached Max's ears? You knew I would do it but you pushed those thoughts away from your mind and pressed the publish button.

Within minutes, notifications began to flood your phone. Comments of surprise, love and congratulations appeared one after another. "Congratulations!", "You're going to be an amazing mom!", "A child? What a thrill!". The answer was overwhelming, and as you read them, you felt a warmth that enveloped you.

You allowed yoursellelless to smile again. For the first time in a long time, you let the world know a part of your new reality.

You didn't expect all that to go so far. After posting the news on your social networks, you felt a mixture of relief and vulnerability. You had shared your truth with the world, but you couldn't control who could see it, how they would react or what they would say behind your back.

Then Max's message arrived.

It was almost ten o'clock at night and you were on your couch, with your legs crossed and a bowl of ice cream in your hands, responding to the hundreds of comments that kept coming. Your phone vibrated, and when you looked at the notification, you felt how the air left your lungs.

It was a message from Max.

"Congratulations to you and the baby's father. I hope you are well. Really, I'm glad to know that you're happy."

You were frozen, reading and rereading the message as if you were unable to process it. How did he get your number? Who had told him? Why had I decided to write to you after so long? All these questions crowded into your mind, but none had an immediate answer.

You didn't know what to do. The most instinctive part of you wanted to ignore it, as if you had never seen the message. But another part, more emotional, I knew that would not be fair. He had been kind, had respected the distance, and had not hinted at anything that could complicate things.

You put the phone aside, squeezing your eyes as you took a deep breath. You had to answer, but what to say? You couldn't reveal the truth, that was clear. But you didn't want to sound cold or distant either. So you took your time, thinking about every word, every semicomon, before writing:

"Thank you, Max. I'm fine and so is the baby. I'm glad to hear from you."

You hit "send" before you could regret it, your heart beating hard while you waited, not knowing if he would answer. Every vibration of your phone made you jump, but the minutes passed, then the hours, and nothing else arrived.

Silence was a relief and torture at the same time. On the one hand, you were grateful that he didn't insist, that he didn't ask questions that you couldn't or didn't want to answer. But on the other hand, you wondered what he would be thinking, if he had really believed your version.

That night, before going to sleep, you thought about his message over and over again. It was so typical of Max: courteous, respectful, but letting out that closeness that had always existed between you. You knew him well enough to know that he must be curious, even if he didn't say it.

Max didn't write to you again. There were no more messages, calls or contact attempts. And although one part of you hoped it wasn't like that, another, more practical, deeply thanked him. The conversation had been at a neutral point, without complications or confrontations, exactly as you wanted.

The days passed with a strange tranquility. Since Max's message, you had not heard from him again, and life in London was on course. Your daily routines had become a kind of comfort: working from home, walking through nearby parks and mentally preparing for the arrival of your baby. But that calm was suddenly broken when your family called you with news that you did not expect.

You were lying on the couch, reviewing a list of things for the baby, when your mother called you. Her voice sounded excited, almost as if she was holding herst out so as not to scream with joy.

"We have something to tell you," he said, without even saying hello first.

"What happened?" you asked, anticipating that something important was coming.

“Your father and I have decided to go back to Monaco. The company is doing better than ever, and we believe it is the perfect time to return home. We've been away too long.”

The news hit you like a gust of cold air. Monaco Your lifelong home, the place where you had grown up, where you knew everyone and everyone knew you. But also the place you had left behind when you moved to London, in search of a new beginning.

"When do you plan to move?" you asked, trying to sound calmer than you felt.

"In a few weeks." We want you to come with us, of course. It's time for us to get back together, especially now that you're expecting a baby.

The proposal left you silent. You knew that your mother didn't say it with bad intentions; she was excited about the idea of having her first grandson around. But for you, the decision was not so simple. London had become your refuge, the place where you had managed to rebuild your life away from everything that tied you to your past. Returning would mean facing everything you had been avoiding, starting with Max.

Monaco was not a place where you could easily hide. Your family was well known, with important connections in the business and social circles of the city. If you came back, everyone would be behind you with questions. And even worse, there was a high probability that you would cross paths with Max during the Formula 1 break.

The following days were a storm of thoughts and emotions. On the one hand, the idea of being alone in London terrified you. With the baby on the way, you knew you would need support, and your family had always been by your side in important moments. But on the other hand, returning to Monaco meant opening a door that you had closed with so much effort.

You sat in front of the window of your small apartment one night, looking at the city lights while reflecting. You were mature enough not to worry about what people would say, but facing Max was something else. You knew each other, and you knew that his presence had an effect on you that you had never been able to fully control.

Finally, after days of thinking and rethinking, you made a decision.

You would return to Monaco.

It wouldn't be easy, but you were tired of living in fear. You didn't want your child to be born in a place where you felt isolated and vulnerable. Your family was important to you, and you knew you could trust them to support you, even if they didn't fully understand why you had made certain decisions.

The next day, you called your mother to give her the news.

"I'm going back with you," you said, your voice firm but with a touch of nervousness.

She couldn't hide her joy. He started talking about the plans for the trip, how they would organize everything so that you were comfortable. His enthusiasm made you smile, although a part of you was still restless.

The weeks passed in the blink of an eye. You packed your things, silently saying goodbye to London and the small shelter you had built there. When the day of your departure came, you looked for the last time at the streets that had become your temporary home, promising yourself that, whatever happens in Monaco, you would be strong.

The plane landed in Monaco at sunset, and the view of the city filled you with a mixture of nostalgia and nervousness. It was as if a part of you had never really left. But you knew the real test was yet to come. Max was there, somewhere, and sooner or later, you would have to face him.

It didn't take long for that, "The event" as your family used to say was something typical: a great meeting in one of the most exclusive lounges in Monaco, where the closest families could live together. Your parents had organized it as a kind of welcome to resume old connections after returning to the city. From the invitation, you knew that it would be inevitable to cross paths with people from the past, but you didn't think too much about who might be. There were so many names, so many familiar faces, that you assumed you could stay on the sidelines without drawing too much attention.

You dressed up with care that night, choosing a simple white dress that enhanced your figure. The fabric flowed gently over your growing belly, marking it delicately without being too flashy. You left your hair loose, with natural waves, and applied light makeup. You wanted to see yourself well, but without trying too hard.

When we arrived at the event, the room was already full. Laughter and conversations filled the air, and the children ran back and forth while the adults met in small groups. There was something familiar in the atmosphere, something that transported you to the years when you had also been a girl in those meetings. It was at one of these parties where you met Max.

Years ago...

You were a restless girl, full of curiosity and not afraid to talk to anyone, even if they were older than you. Max, on the other hand, was more reserved, even a little grumpy for his age. However, somehow, you found a way to break his serious facade. With your energetic personality, you managed to let my guard down. To everyone's surprise, he, who always seemed uncomfortable in these meetings, got along with you from the beginning. In those days, both became inseparable, exploring together every corner of these events while the adults chatted.

Returning to the present...

That memory made you smile a little, but it also made you feel a knot in your stomach. You tried to shake the nostalgia and focus on the night. You walked among the guests, chatting with those who approached you, most of them congratulating you on the pregnancy. Although you felt out of place, you tried to stay calm.

That's when you saw it.

Max was standing near one of the tables, dressed in a dark suit that sat him spotlessly. He was accompanied by Kelly, and her little daughter. The air seemed to disappear from your lungs instantly.

He also saw you.

For a second, your eyes met, and his expression changed. He seemed surprised, maybe even uncomfortable, but he immediately regained his composure. You, on the other hand, felt that your heart was beating so hard that it was hard for you to breathe. Instinctively, you turned on your heels, looking for a way out. You weren't ready to face him, even less with Kelly by his side.

But Max was faster.

Before you could disappear into the crowd, he and Kelly approached you. His every step made the panic inside you increase. You wanted to run, excuse yourself, anything to avoid that moment, but there was no escape.

"Hey!" Max said, with a smile that seemed contained, as if he was also dealing with something internal. His voice was warm, as if the months of silence between you had not existed. He pointed at Kelly and said—: “This is Kelly, my girlfriend.”

Kelly smiled politely and held out her hand.

"Nice to meet you," she said. Max has told me that you two have been friends since you were little.

Your mind was going a thousand per hour, but you managed to force a smile and shake his hand.

"Yes, that's right. For... many years” you replied, striving to keep your voice stable.

Max, as if he wanted to relieve the tension, added with a more relaxed smile:

"It's amazing to see you here, and congratulations again, both for you and for the baby's father.”

The words "baby's father" echoed in your mind like an echo. Kelly also congratulated you, and although there was nothing in his words that sounded malicious, you felt that your whole body tensed up.

"Thank you," you managed to say, nodding with a shy smile.

You couldn't take it anymore. You made up the first excuse you could think of.

"Excuse me, I need to go get something to drink." It has been a pleasure to see you.

Before they could say anything else, you walked away with quick steps, feeling the eyes of both of them fixed on your back. You didn't stop until you were far away, in a corner of the living room where you could catch your breath.

Your heart kept beating hard, and your hands were shaking. You had managed to get out of that conversation, but the meeting had removed all the emotions you had tried to bury. Max was there, and although you hadn't admitted it out loud, seeing him had made everything feel real again.

The night continued as a blur of superficial conversations and forced laughter. Every time Max and his little family appeared in your line of sight, you found a way to dodge them, pretending that someone else required your attention. You kept busy talking to acquaintances, checking your phone and serving yourself lemon water in an attempt to distract yourself. All in vain. His presence weighed like a cloud on you, a constant that you could not ignore even if you tried.

As soon as you finished pretending to be interested in a business conversation, you decided you needed a break. The bustle of the living room began to suffocate you, and the fresh air outside seemed like the perfect solution. You walked towards the gardens, feeling the relief of the silence as you left the music and laughter behind.

The sky of Monaco was clear, and the city lights were reflected in the nearby water. You recharged against a railing, closing your eyes and letting the breeze caress your face. For a moment, the world seemed calmer, less complicated.

Until you heard his voice behind you.

"It's not very typical of you to escape from the party."

You turned quickly, with your heart racing. Max was there, with his hands in his pockets and an expression that you didn't know how to interpret. He seemed relaxed, but there was something in his eyes that made you feel that he had come with a purpose.

"I didn't escape. I just needed a little air” you replied, trying to sound casual while your hands fiddled with the railing.

Max approached, leaving enough space between you, but enough to make his presence impossible to ignore.

"It was nice to see you today. I didn't expect to find you here," he said, his words loaded with something you couldn't define.

"I say the same," you replied, looking at the horizon instead of him.

There was an awkward silence before he spoke again.

"Your family must be excited about the baby and his father too. I'm sure they're spoiling you a lot.”

You smiled slightly, although his tone made you feel a pang in your chest. You decided it was better to be honest before he continued to assume things.

"They are happy, yes. But my baby doesn't have a father.”

Max seemed to stop in his tracks. His expression changed, and for a moment he seemed to be looking for the right words.

"I'm sorry... I didn't know."

You looked at him then, meeting his look that seemed sincerely hurt.

"Don't do it," you told him, your tone firm but without hardness. “Don't be regretted. I'm happy, Max. My family is happy. I can't ask for more. This child will be surrounded by love, and that's all that matters.”

Max nodded slowly, but his eyes continued to reflect something else, something he didn't say out loud.

"I always thought you would be an incredible mom," he said after a moment, with a small smile.

You forced yourself to smile too, although his comment stirred you inside. You wanted to change the subject, prevent the conversation from taking a more emotional turn, but Max was the one who spoke first.

"I want to be in your life again."

His words were like a direct blow to the chest. You looked at him, stunned, trying to understand exactly what he meant.

"Max..." you started, but he raised a hand, interrupting you.

"I'm not saying that I'm going to get into something that doesn't belong to me. I just... I want to be part of your life again, as we were before. I could be a good uncle for that little one," he added, with a smile that seemed sincere, although also somewhat sad.

That was too much for you. His words, his tone, the way he seemed so sure of wanting to be close but at the same time setting limits... It was a reminder of what had been and what it could not be. You felt your heart tighten, as if the air became denser.

"I would love to have you back in my life, Max. You've always been a good friend” you managed to say, although it was hard for you to keep your voice stable.

He nodded, his eyes fixed on yours for an eternal second. Then he looked towards the house, as if something was calling him back.

"I'm glad to hear it. See you inside," he said softly, before turning around and walking towards the living room.

You stayed there, watching how his figure disappeared between the lights of the party. You felt a mixture of emotions that you couldn't fully decipher. There was something reassuring in knowing that he wanted to be in your life, but also something deeply painful in hearing the words "good friend" come out of his lips.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the lump in your throat. You knew that the best thing was to return too, but before you needed a few more minutes to pull yourself together.

When the night finally came to an end, and while you were helping your mother say goodbye to the last guests, you felt the exhaustion creep into every fiber of your body. Between smiles, short conversations and the unexpected meeting with Max, everything had been a whirlwind of emotions. You went up to your room, closing the door behind you and letting out a long sigh. You had succeeded. You had survived that night without collapsing, although the cracks in your facade were deeper than you wanted to admit.

You took off your dress carefully, letting the fresh air ease your skin. You put on a comfortable nightgown and got rid of the makeup with slow movements. Every step of your nightly routine was an attempt to distract you from the only thing that really occupied your mind: Max. The conversation outside, his insistence on wanting to be back in your life, his words loaded with a meaning that you refused to interpret... Everything kept spinning in your head.

When you got into bed, you took your phone out of habit, checking notifications and messages before going to sleep. That's when you saw it. A message from Max.

Max: "Good night. I liked seeing you tonight."

Your heart skipped a beat when you read it. You didn't expect me to write to you, not after what they had talked about. You thought about ignoring him, but you knew you couldn't. Something inside you drove you to respond.

You: "Simely. It was nice to see you."

You sent the message before your mind could stop you, and just a few seconds later his answer came.

Max: "I don't know if this sounds weird, but I feel like I've missed you more than I thought."

You bit your lip, your fingers floating on the screen as you decided what to say. Finally you wrote:

You: "It doesn't sound weird. I've missed you too."

The conversation flowed with a naturalness that baffled you. Talking to him was like returning to something comfortable and familiar, as if the months of distance had not existed. They talked about trivial things at the beginning: how he was, how you were, small anecdotes of the event that had occurred while you were escaping to the garden. But then he wrote something that made you stop.

Max: "We should have a coffee or something. Really catch up."

Your first reaction was to doubt. You knew it wasn't a good idea. Seeing him was to risk letting your guard down, saying something you shouldn't have, opening doors that you had closed for a reason. But, at the same time, the idea excited you. You wanted to see it. I wanted to see it.

"I'd love to," you finally wrote, almost with fear.

Almost instantly came his answer:

Max: "Tomorrow? I have something in the afternoon, but I'm free at night."

You bit the inside of your cheek, weighing your options. You knew you shouldn't accept, but your fingers were already writing.

You: "It's okay. Tomorrow night."

They quickly confirmed it, deciding the place and time, and after a few more messages, he wrote:

Max: "Sleep well. See you tomorrow."

"You too," you replied, even though you knew that sleeping was the last thing you would do. You put the phone aside, but your mind was still at full speed.

As you settled in bed, you looked at the ceiling with a sigh. You had done something you knew you shouldn't have done, and the anxiety of what could happen consumed you. But, at the same time, a small spark of emotion lit up inside you.

The idea of seeing him, of talking to him face to face after all, made you feel like you were playing with fire. And yet, you found yourself counting the hours for the next day.

The next morning the day began in a rather routine way, although you felt a slight tingling in your stomach when you remembered your plan for later. After a light breakfast, you made sure to review your to-do list, and among them was the doctor's appointment. Although all the previous reviews had gone well, it always gave you a little anxiety to attend. You wanted to make sure that your baby was perfect, that everything went as it should.

You put on a loose and comfortable dress, choosing a pastel shade that highlighted the shine that lately your pregnancy had given to your skin. You looked in the mirror quickly before leaving, noticing your already noticeably rounded belly. You had reached that point in pregnancy where it was impossible to hide it, and although you felt proud, there were times when that reality made you think about everything that was to come.

The clinic was calm when you arrived. After signing some papers and waiting a few minutes in the room, they called you to go to the doctor. She was a kind woman, someone you fully trusted and with whom you had developed a good relationship since you arrived in Monaco.

You lay down on the stretcher while they did the routine ultrasound. The screen lit up with the image of your baby, and as always, your eyes filled with tears of pure emotion when you saw it.

"Everything looks perfect," said the doctor, smiling as she checked the measurements and heartbeat of the little one. “He is growing well and has a lot of energy, as always. Have you felt good?”

You nodded.

"Yes, although he's been a little restless today. I don't know if it's me or him.”

The doctor laughed softly.

"Probably a little bit of both. They feel our emotions, did you know? If you're anxious or nervous, he feels it too.”

You were thoughtful with that comment. It was true that you had been nervous since you woke up. The idea of seeing Max again, of sitting in front of him after so long, had you in a constant state of anticipation.

"I guess he's right. Today I have... an important day.”

You didn't go into details, but she gave you an understanding look.

"Well, try to relax." He's fine, you're fine. Enjoy your day and make sure you rest.

When you left the clinic, the mid-morning sun greeted you warmly, but you still felt some restlessness in your chest. You knew there was no reason to worry about the baby, but the conversation with the doctor left you thinking. Your little one was connected to you in a way that no one else could be, and his well-being was completely up to you.

The rest of the day was spent in a blur of domestic activities and small errands, but your mind always returned to Max. You wondered what it would be like to see him again, this time in a more intimate environment. Would he be nervous like you? Would it still be as easy to talk to him as it had been last night?

As the afternoon progressed, you noticed that your baby kept moving. Every time you tried to sit down for a moment to breathe, he kicked or settled down, as if trying to get your attention.

"What's wrong, little one?" you murmured, placing a hand on your belly. “Are you also nervous about tonight?”

The thought made you smile, although you felt a knot in your stomach. You caressed your belly with gentle movements, trying to calm it down and calm yourself down in the process.

You sighed as you looked at the clock. Every minute that passed brought you closer to the meeting, and although you were nervous, a part of you couldn't wait.

The afternoon was sliding into the night, and with each passing minute, you felt how anxiety was taking over you. You repeated to yourself over and over again that everything would be fine, that there was nothing to fear, that it was only Max. Max, your lifelong friend. Max, who was now much more complicated than you had ever imagined.

When it was time to get ready, you went into the bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror. There was something different about you, a mixture of emotion and tension that made you feel like you were about to cross an invisible line. The dress you chose was simple but elegant, a dark blue tone that highlighted your skin and concealed your belly. You left your hair loose, falling in soft waves on your shoulders. The makeup, just enough to give a touch of color to your cheeks and highlight your eyes. You wanted to look good, but without looking like you had tried too hard.

While you were putting on the last touches, your phone vibrated on the table. You took it with slightly trembling hands and read the message.

"I'm outside. I'll wait for you."

You toom a deep breath before answering.

"Ok."

You picked up your bag, taking one last look at your reflection before leaving the room. You went down the stairs calmly, although your heart was beating hard in your chest. When he opened the front door, there he was. Max Verstappen, waiting for you next to his car with a smile that, despite all the time that had passed, was still the same you remembered.

"Hello," he said softly, his eyes running over you for a moment before returning to your face. “You look... good.”

You smiled a little shyly.

"Thank you. You too”

Max was dressed casually but flawlessly, a dark shirt and jeans that fit him perfectly. I had always had that ability to look good without much effort. He opened the car door for you and, once you were inside, he circled the car and sat behind the wheel.

The journey was comfortable, although full of silences that spoke more than words. Through the reflection in the window, you watched him sideways. His firm hands on the steering wheel, the way he concentrated on the road, everything was so familiar and at the same time so distant.

Finally, they arrived at a small secluded, discreet and cozy restaurant, a place that Max had chosen carefully to avoid curious glances. Upon entering, you were greeted by a warm atmosphere, dim lights and tables separated enough to ensure privacy.

"It's a quiet place," he said while helping you sit down. “I thought we would be more comfortable here.”

You nodded, grateful for your consideration.

"It's perfect."

You both asked for dinner, and for a few minutes, the sound of the cutlery and the soft background music filled the space. But soon, the conversation began to flow.

"So..." you said, breaking the ice. “How is everything? Life, the team, your relationship?”

Max took a sip from his glass before answering.

"Life... is fine. Busy, as always. The team is doing well, although this year has been more complicated than I expected. And Kelly...” he paused briefly. “We're fine. Things are stable, which is good for me, for P.”

He mentioned his girlfriend and stepdaughter naturally, but you couldn't help but feel a pang in his chest. You forced yoursellsel on your smile.

"I'm glad to hear that. You know I've always wanted you to be happy.”

Max looked at you with an expression that seemed to contain more than he was willing to say.

"And you?" he asked, leaning slightly forward. “Why did you disappear like that? One day you were here, and the next, you were gone. Without a word.”

You tensed up a little in your chair, fiddling with the edge of your glass. You had known that question would come, but you were not completely prepared to answer it.

"It was something... I needed to do," you finally said, choosing your words carefully. “London was an opportunity to start again. And... I didn't want to complicate anyone's life.”

Max frowned slightly, his eyes looking for yours.

"Complicate life for whom? To me?”

The air seemed to become denser between you. You avoided his gaze, concentrating on the napkin that you now held between your fingers.

"You already had many things in your life. You didn't need... more complications.”

Max was silent for a moment, but his eyes didn't turn away from you.

"We were always friends, remember? No matter what happened... that doesn't change.”

The sincerity in his voice disarmed you, and for a moment, you felt that the weight of the last few months was about to collapse on you. But you stood firm, smiling softly.

"I know. And I'm glad we can talk like this, like before.”

The conversation continued, returning to lighter topics: childhood memories, career anecdotes, moments they shared before everything got complicated. But, deep down, they both knew that there were things that remained unsaid.

When dinner ended, they both left the restaurant, the night in Monaco unfolded calm and cool, with a gentle breeze that caressed your skin. You felt strangely light, despite everything that dinner had moved in you. You thought the night had come to an end, but Max, standing next to you in front of the car, seemed to hesitate before saying goodbye.

"Are you tired?" he asked, with a look that contained more than what his words said. “Because... if you're not, we could go for a walk.”

You were surprised by the invitation, but a part of you, the one that was still looking for any excuse to prolong the moment, did not hesitate to answer.

"No, I'm not tired. I would love to walk a little.”

Max smiled, a soft smile that lit up his face for a moment. He walked by your side, and soon they both left the restaurant behind and went into the quietest streets of the city. The night in Monaco was a spectacle in itself, with the lights reflected in the sea, the distant sound of laughter and music, and the constant murmur of the nightlife that unfolded around it. But at that moment, nothing seemed to matter more than the presence of the other.

The silence between you was not uncomfortable. On the contrary, it felt almost like a conversation in itself, a pause that allowed both of them to think about everything that had been left unsaid for so long. They walked at the same pace, their steps synchronized, and from time to time your fingers brushed his, which caused a small chill that ran through your body.

Finally, it was Max who broke the silence. His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if he feared to alter the stillness of the night.

"I like walking with you at night," he said, with a sincerity that took you by surprise. His eyes looked at you sideways, looking for your reaction.

Your heart turned upside down, and you bit your lip before answering, allowing a soft smile to form on your lips.

"I like it too. I enjoy it.”

And you meant it. There was something intimate at that moment, a connection that didn't need words. The world seemed to have reduced to you two, walking together under the dim lights of Monaco. The breeze was fiddling with your hair, and Max noticed it, because his eyes stopped a second longer on you, before looking away.

Both continued walking in silence for a few more minutes, until both of you reached a small viewpoint that overlooked the port. The lights of the yachts and the soft waves of the water created an almost magical atmosphere. You leaned on the railing, contemplating the landscape, but aware that Max had come closer, until he was a few centimeters from you.

"It's beautiful," you commented, trying to stay calm, although your heart was beating hard.

"It is..." he replied, but when you looked up, you realized that he was not looking at the landscape. He was looking at you.

The atmosphere became denser, loaded with electricity that seemed to envelop them. You felt trapped between the desire to maintain that closeness and the need to step back, to protect yourself from what that moment could mean. But you didn't move.

Max leaned slightly forward, resting his arms on the railing next to yours. His fingers brushed yours, and this time he didn't move away. Neither do you.

"I missed this," he murmured, with a voice so low that you barely heard him. “I missed being with you.”

His words disarmed you. You felt a lump in your throat, but you tried to stay calm.

"Me too..." you admitted, almost in a whisper. I missed this, you.

Both stayed like this, in silence, letting the moment last, feeling the closeness of the other. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you had saved for months, but you held in. You didn't want to ruin it. Not yet.

Max turned his face towards you, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. His blue eyes, intense and full of contained emotions, met yours. The world around him disappeared, and all that existed was that look, that instant in which the past, the present and the future seemed to collide.

"I'm glad you're here," he said, with a softness that almost made you lose your balance.

Your breathing quickened slightly, and without looking away, you replied:

"To me too."

The silence that followed was different. It wasn't uncomfortable or empty.

But before either of them could do or say anything else, Max took a step back, breaking the spell.

"We should go back," he said, his voice a little more controlled. “I don't want you to get too tired.”

You nodded, grateful and at the same time disappointed. Both began to walk back, this time more slowly, as if prolonging that walk could change something.

When both got to the car, Max stopped before opening the door for you. For a moment, he seemed to doubt, as if he was about to say something important. But instead, he just smiled.

"Thank you for tonight. I needed.”

"Yeah. Me too..." you murmured. “Thank u.”

He leaned slightly, as if he was going to say goodbye with a kiss on the cheek, but he stopped halfway. Instead, his fingers gently brushed your hand before opening the door. You got into the car, still feeling the warmth of his touch, and when he left you at home, they both said goodbye with a smile that said more than words could express.

That night, while you were lying in your bed, with the breeze of Monaco coming in through the window, you thought about every detail of that walk. In his gaze, in his words, in the touch of his fingers. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to dream about what could have been... and what it could still be.

[letsbangts]

thank you || jjk

⤷ summary: when you express your appreciation for the man you married in an essay

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 1.4k

⟶ genre: fluff, married couple au, established relationship au

⟶ content: husband!jk, fratboy!jk briefly mentioned, sweetheart kook that could cause cavities

⟶ warnings: none just pure fluff

↬ a/n: so this is inspired by you may want to marry my husband. hope you enjoy! :) as always hope you enjoy & let me know what you think! angel xoxo

masterlist ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ join my taglist

I have been married to the most extraordinary man for four years. I am planning on many more (a plan that has been in effect since our first date seven years ago and will continue to be). And for that, I feel I should express my gratitude.

Thank you. 

Honestly, I do not know what I am thankful for, for everything, I guess? For him always being there, for him staying by my side. For loving and treating me exactly how I have always wanted a man to. 

Now, you may wonder who this gentleman is, and I am so happy to tell you, Jeon Jungkook.

He was an easy man to fall in love with (I did it in one day).

Let us take a trip down memory lane, shall we?

Seven years ago, a young lady struggling with dealing with college and her part-time job, gets dragged out by her best friend (I guess I should be thanking her too), attends a year-end party at a frat house one late evening. About an hour later, she bumps into a boy who spills his drink on himself, though all he can do is say to her with the brightest smile: “You okay there, Clumsy?”

And when she looks up at his face, she realizes that this is no douche frat boy with beer on his shirt, but an unbelievably attractive high-spirited young man. She shyly replies: “Yeah, I’m okay”.

That is when what was supposed to be quick party banter with a stranger turned into a night of great conversation and a polite walk home. That then turned into sweet exchanges of subtle flirtatious texts and small phone calls that had this young lady thinking: Uh-oh, there is something extremely lovable about this person.

As the couple enjoyed many hangouts during the beginning of summer (by the end of the summer, I knew I wanted to marry him), amidst the ever-growing flirting, they finally acknowledged their immense attraction. Then the hangouts turn into dates when that lovely young man finally asks her out. That is when they would have officially kicked off their step from subtle flirting to blatant, very obvious flirting—the beginning of a couple that would only continue their journey together.

So that was the start of us.

I am a bit biased, but I will create a list based on my experience of coexisting with Jungkook for about 2,556 days on the reasons I am thankful for him and thus love him. The following list of attributes is in no particular order because everything about him is so important to me.

Starting with the basics: His blindingly contagious smile, his gorgeous body filled with pure joy and positivity(and muscle), his adorable fluffy hair that falls over his forehead to match his striking brown eyes, and his effortlessly breathtaking passionate singing, of course.

Jungkook always knows how I am feeling and how to match his mood to whatever one I am in. He can read my face with just a simple glance. I have always appreciated how he adjusts his mood to fit my own. If I am in the dumps and his spirits are up, he brings them down to comfort me; even if he is down in the dumps, he lifts his spirits to keep a smile on my face. And for that:

Thank you.

If I could list just one of the things that made me fall in love with Jungkook from day one and still makes my heart flutter to this day, it would be his little acts that are natural for him, and show how much of a gentleman he is. He always opens doors for me, making sure I walk on the inner side of the sidewalk, giving me his jacket to wear, or carrying me into bed when I fall asleep on the couch. He may not know how much I appreciate the little things, but those little things always remind me I sincerely have the best man out there. 

Silently suffering with the things I put him through that he may not want to do. Sitting through the cliché chick flicks, trailing behind me in the store as I look at three different tops that he says all look great on me but always end up picking the one he can tell I want more, or even giving up his personal space and all feeling in his right arm because he knows I sleep much better entangled with him.

That brings me to something Jungkook may not know that I know about him. He holds in a lot more than he leads on. The song he tells me he is struggling to perfect, but tells me it is only a little bit of writer’s block. Yet I can see in his eyes that it stresses him much more than he says. Yet he is always quick to change topics with a:

“How could you have gotten prettier while I was gone?”

Or

“So tell me about your day. Did anything interesting happen today?”

If I did not know him so well, I could have easily missed these things, but I have come to learn about the kind of person he is. He is the type of person who always puts others before himself. He leads himself to take on the role of making sure others around him are okay. He already knows he does not have to hide his worries from me, but Jungkook still always tries to keep the minor worries to himself because he believes they are things I will excessively stress over on his behalf. (and he is right, I would, what can I say, I love the guy)

We have come to know each other so well over the years, huh?

When looking for a dreamy, last-minute adventure, he is my man. He always comes with me on random, just-because trips, be it a road trip to the countryside for a break from the city or a train ride to the sea to walk by the shore.

Thank you.

If it is still unclear, here is the kind of man Jeon Jungkook is: He surprised me on my first day at my new job with flowers because he knew how nervous I was. He is a man who is always up early and goes out to surprise me every Sunday morning by putting a different kind of flower on my nightstand with a love note. A man who comes out of the minimart or gas station and says: “Hold out your hand.” And, voilà, a plastic ring he got from a gumball machine (had that been his proposal, my answer would have been yes).

I am sure you understand what I am trying to say by now, and he already knows how crazy I am about him. Wait! Did I mention that he is incredibly handsome? I will never get tired of looking at his handsome face.

If I am making him sound like a prince and our relationship sounds like a fairy tale, that is not too far off. I consider his proposal one for the books:

“Ever since you stumbled into my life, quite literally. I have never been able to picture being without you. Will you marry me, Clumsy?”

Jungkook, I was serious about what I told you in our vows:

“I always want more time with you, Jungkook. I want more time with the guy who takes me to get ice cream in the winter. I want more time sipping beer in bed with my drinking buddy. Although I desire our time together to be endless, we cannot live forever. But as long as I am alive, as long as I am a person on this planet, I will continue to follow you wherever the road takes us. So let us walk it together, alright?”

Your dependability and loyalty are the qualities that show you are the most extraordinary husband, the most extraordinary man, and will be the most remarkable father one day. I know you will lead our future family into a lifetime of happiness because that is where you have been leading mine for seven years. I know you will continue to do so.

I will wrap this up because I can go on and on about how you are the most genuine, non-self-oriented gift I could have received. So, thank you for being you. I hope for the day that I get to tell our children about the kind of man their father is, the man Jeon Jungkook is, and about the love story I am honoured to be a part of.

(P.S. That day I mentioned will be coming in approximately nine months!)

With all my love, Clumsy xo

[cacoetheswriting]

we can't be friends | chapter five from right where you left me.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (modern day au) word count: 5.7k

summary: He’s there, so close, yet oceans apart. You’re drifting together, yet separately. You want to pull him aside and ask if you’d done something wrong since last night, or even this morning, when it all seemed blissful, but you’re too cowardly to do so. A win is a win, you think. You got him to forgive you, what more could you ask for. Everything. Your stomach sinks and your heart aches just a little.

content warnings: forced proximity, friends-to-enemies-to-lovers, angsty, slow burn, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, emotional hurt / comfort, this chapter is their fluff era, some serious mutual pining, use of pet names, plus mentions & descriptions of underage alcohol consumption / substance abuse, recreational drug use, discusses sobriety, also touches on topics of: death, grief, toxic relationships, gaslighting, self-doubt / insecurities, love triangle?, unrequited love — pls let me know if i missed any!

psa: any images used in chapter headers don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also vaguely — if at all— described in the story.

When morning light sneaks in through the half-opened blinds, you slowly blink awake, taking in your surroundings and a smile creeps up on your features.

You slept on the couch. Actually, you slept on top of Eddie who slept on the couch. Legs tangled together under the fleece blanket, one strong arm draped over your body, chin pressed to the top of your head, holding you close.

Someone clears their throat, interrupting your momentary bliss. You jolt as if you’d been caught doing something illegal and sit upright as your head snaps to see Steve leaning against the arch frame, smirking at what he’s just witnessed.

“Well, isn’t this a sight to behold.” He says, arms crossed over his chest. “Nice to see you two really made up.”

“Fuck off, Harrington.” A grumble comes from beneath you. Low. Territorial.

When you look down, Eddie’s eyes are still closed, so you focus yet again on Steve. His grin an inch wider than before as he raises a brow at you. He mouths something intangible, although you have a feeling it’s inappropriate and your cheeks bloom with blood at the insinuation.

In the meantime, Eddie moves a hand to your hip. His right. The one close to the couch. The one Steve can’t see because it’s hidden behind you. A lingering secret that sends a shiver through your entire being, while also making you hyper aware of your current position. You are practically sitting in the metal-heads lap. The sudden reshuffling due to Steve’s presence caused this development and because you don’t hate it, the feeling of Eddie’s groin beneath your pelvis, you hurry off. The brunette, the sofa.

This causes Eddie to open his eyes. Your back is to him and he wonders for a moment what you’d do if he reached for you again, pulling you onto him once more because he already misses the feeling. Instead, he stretches.

“Coffee?” You quip and without waiting for an answer from either of the guys, you disappear into the kitchen.

The eavesdropping is unintentional. They just start talking, rather loudly, before you get a chance to turn on the fancy coffee machine.

“I meant what I said, dude.”

“What?”

“About you two making up. It’s nice to see.”

A beat of silence. Your finger hovers over the ON button in wait for Eddie’s next words. Unintentionally, of course.

“It never should have taken this long.”

Your heart skitters behind your ribs. The coffee machine lights up, whirring into life. Eddie’s voice fills every inch of your brain as you watch the dark liquid pour into a mug, smiling to yourself. They join you a second later. The topic has changed, but you don’t care to listen in anymore because you got what you wanted. 

Steve asks if you feel like coming with him for a smoke. You shake your head and tell him later, after coffee. Eddie says the same, so Harrington slides out the back door, leaving you alone with the metal-head once more.

“Morning,” he says with a smile, approaching where you stand. “How’d you sleep?”

‘Never better’ seems like too loaded of an answer for this unchartered territory. You opt for a politically correct, “Not long enough.”

Eddie laughs. “You could say that again.”

You slide the full cup on the counter, in his direction, and grab another one. He thanks you, bringing the brim to his mouth as the machine starts buzzing. It scalds him, the coffee. He grimaces briefly, dabbing his tongue against the roof of his mouth, but goes back in for another sip because you’re the one that made it and as ridiculous as it may be, he’ll drink molten lava if you were ever to offer.

He leans against the counter and drinks his burning coffee. Soon, you do the same. Your arm brushes against his and the silence stretches on. Nothing but the sound of birds chirping outside and Harrington’s voice coming in through the parted door, presumably on the phone to his mom.

“Or Henderson,” Eddie says because apparently now he can read your mind.

You look up at him. His side profile. The dotted freckles like a sprinkle of cinnamon and you begin to count them, like you did last night when he leaned in to kiss you. At least you think that’s what he wanted to do. He stopped himself with an inch of space between your lips and his, and redirected to peck your forehead instead.

Then he sprung off the couch, asking if it would be okay that he have another beer. You sat there for a moment, after Eddie disappeared into the kitchen, replaying his incline in your mind until you wanted to scream. All of this was too confusing, too raw. You needed a cigarette, so you robbed one from Steve’s packet, poorly hidden inside the pocket of his jacket, and barefoot, stepped out the front door into the starry night.

Eddie found you a couple of minutes later and asked if you were okay, in that soft voice of his. The one that makes you weak in the knees — always has. Not really knowing how to answer honestly, you nodded your head and exhaled some smoke.

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Eddie wonders, catching your eyes.

You nod again.

“You said you wished I told you about seeing Billy that night, because maybe things would have gone differently.” He pauses, intentionally leaving out the ‘us’ part since he’s slightly afraid to get the answer to his own question. “What did you mean by that? I asked, but we were… interrupted.”

Exhaling another puff of smoke, you briefly chew on your bottom lip, pondering how to word your thoughts on the matter in a coherent way and not like the ramblings of a girl pathetically obsessing over her ex-best friend, his feelings, and her own feelings towards him.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have left,” you say.

“It would have been that simple?”

When your throat starts to close up and the tears threaten to bubble up to the surface, you put out your half-finished cigarette and wordlessly head back inside. Your first instinct is to say goodnight, without answering his follow up question, and go sleep in your own bedroom. You linger in the hallway, considering, until the metal-head’s fingers intertwine with yours and he leads you towards the sofa.

The question remains unanswered in the morning and you’re hoping he doesn’t bring it up again. 

And Eddie doesn’t. 

Not while you finish your coffee, not while he helps you with breakfast, not while the group saunters in one by one, not while you all eat. The answer remains a secret, just like knowing whether he actually wanted to kiss you or not.

When you go upstairs to get ready for the day, Eddie doesn’t follow. For all of five minutes, you’re grateful to be alone. Under the shower however, as the hot water scalds your skin and as you lather yourself with orange-scented body wash, you wish he was here with you, talking to you, touching you. A lot of force is required to push those thoughts deep. To drown them, down the drain with the soapy water of your morning rinse.

Despite being friendly, somewhat friends, there’s now an awkward tension between you and the curly-haired brunette. He sits in your car for the drive into town, although he makes himself comfortable in the back and doesn’t say a word the entire drive. Just steals glances through the rearview mirror. Once parked, he walks off with Steve and Jonathan in the opposite direction, when you hoped he’d go with you, and a few hours later, when the group meets for lunch, he sits at the far end of the restaurant table and only converses with Nancy.

You feel like you’re going insane.

He’s there, so close, yet oceans apart. You’re drifting together, yet separately. You want to pull him aside and ask if you’d done something wrong since last night, or even this morning, when it all seemed blissful, but you’re too cowardly to do so. A win is a win, you think. You got him to forgive you, what more could you ask for. Everything. Your stomach sinks and your heart aches just a little.

The group doesn’t split again after the bill is settled and the waiters thanked. You walk together through the main street, looking in the windows of the local stores, talking, laughing. Robin’s babbling in your ear about her girlfriend while you nod along, her happiness radiating through you, if only momentarily. You tell her how you’d love to meet her and she says, “soon”, because it really is that simple and you’d forgotten how long it’s been when life was easy.

Someone tugs at your jacket, pulling you backwards. You barely get a chance to apologise to Robin and suddenly the group is twenty-or-so steps ahead while you remain, with Eddie holding onto you.

“What’s going on?” He asks, tone pressing, eyebrow raised.

You blink, taken aback since he’s the one who’s backing weird, not you.

“Did something happen?” Eddie questions further and you force yourself to shake your head.

“You tell me?”

“Me?”

“Eddie…” It’s more of a sigh. A huff.

He furrows his dark brows. Confusion spreads through his features, matching the expression on your face, and you stare at each other for a whole minute.

His ring-clad fingers are still holding onto your jacket, clinging onto the hem. He doesn’t pull you closer and he doesn’t make any effort to take a step forward either, to lessen the gap. He just stands there, holding a piece of your clothing, and staring at you with those big brown eyes. For some reason, this feels a whole lot more intimate than sleeping together on the coach.

You clear your throat, the dryness becoming unbearable.

“Eddie,” you say his name again, “You’re the one that’s been ignoring me since breakfast.”

“I haven’t,” he protests, “Not intentionally, anyway.”

“Well, it seems like you have.”

And then the unexpected happens: he laughs. Loud and pure. Head hanging, swaying side to side, as the giggles carry through the light breeze. It further deepens your confusion, but the sound is infectious and sure enough, you’re laughing too.

“One night of open communication must’ve drained the batteries,” he says, grinning. “We really must get better at that.”

“Talking?”

“Talking even when there’s nothing to say.”

And he finally pulls you close, swinging one arm around your shoulders. He places a tender kiss on your temple and you can feel him smiling against your skin.

“You smell nice,” he mutters into you and your heart pitter-patters.

“Oranges,” you tell him, although you’re not sure why.

He hums, kisses the top of your head, and eventually pulls away. His touch lingers. Imprints of his fingertips, his kisses, burn into you and you’re unsure now more than ever if you’re misreading this whole thing because he’s never been this affectionate before. Then you have to remind yourself again that a lot of time has passed and people change. He’s just being friendly, you think. Staying friends is what you need to focus on. Not the hammering of your heart or ringing in your ears whenever you look at him.

Itching for some composure, you find an AA meeting. A quick Google search reveals the local groups and as luck would have it, one is about to meet.

You throw your car keys at the metal-head and ask him to collect you in about an hour. He nods in agreement and your friends walk you to the door of the building. No one asks about it, which you’re grateful for because how would you even explain to someone who’s not an alcoholic why you suddenly need a meeting.

Inside, the chairs are lined in a circle. Different from your group in Vegas where they face the podium, but then again this is a small town and everyone knows each other anyway.

You’re not nervous as you sit and you don’t feel any sort of way when people start gathering, nodding in your direction to acknowledge this newcomer.

One by one, they speak. Share stories from their day, week, month. Experiences and turbulence. Mention people, faces. Reason why they may have wanted to reach for the bottle and clarify why they didn’t, in the end. An elderly lady fought with her daughter. A new dad is battling sleepless nights and the feeling of helplessness. Someone lost their job. Someone else got a new job. Life happens for these people — for you — and it makes hard liquid appealing. To elevate, to numb.

When it’s your turn to share, you wipe the palms of your hands on your linen trousers and crack your neck.

“My ex-boyfriend gave me my first drink. He died. Unrelated, but at the same time, not really,” you begin, a timid smile circling your lips as you speak, “I found out recently he was cheating. I mean, I had my suspicions but never had any eyewitnesses to corroborate the rumours, so I continued to walk in my relationship with rose-coloured glasses. Finding out the guy I uh, loved, was indeed a lying scumbag is a tough pill to swallow. It sucks, you know? I drank myself to sleep every night after his funeral and now I can’t help but wonder if I found out back then, whether I would’ve cared so much to mask the pain of his death. Or whether I’d just grieve like any other normal girlfriend would — crying, with friends and family by my side.”

“Grief isn’t linear,” someone points out. “Neither is sobriety.”

You bop your head in agreement. “There’s just the issue of the person who told me. The one that caught my ex. The one I can’t stop thinking about today, yesterday, the last few years. He’s been there for me, then he wasn’t, and now he is again. Seemingly. I don’t know. I’m a little confused about the whole thing and this feeling of uncertainty makes me itch.”

Once the hour is up, you saunter back into the afternoon sunshine. Eddie’s waiting for you, as instructed. He’s leaning against the side of your Jeep and smiles when he sees you. Small, happy. He hugs you briefly before opening the passenger door. You don’t protest by telling him it’s your car therefore you can drive back, instead you watch him jog around the front and hop in, starting the engine.

For the first few minutes, it’s quiet.

“How was it?” Eddie asks, eyes darting to you briefly, then back on the road ahead.

“Good,” you answer plainly since there’s not much else to say about AA.

He hums a note of understanding and keeps driving. Momentarily, it’s quiet again.

“Do you think you would’ve gotten sober if you stayed?”

You tilt your head in his direction.

“I don’t know.” Honest. You want to leave this topic there, but you can see the wheels inside his mind are spinning. He’ll never say, out of respect for your journey, but he wants to know more. “Probably not. Hawkins reminded me too much of Billy, that’s why I drank in the first place.”

The metal-head notes the use of past tense, but doesn’t point it out.

“Have you ever taken an ice-cold shower?” You wonder.

Eddie’s curious eyes meet yours as he pulls up to a red light. “On purpose?”

You nod.

“God no.”

The borderline disgust in his voice, at such a trivial thing, makes you stifle a laugh. You turn to look at the road ahead and an idea pops into your mind — because it’s the only way you know how to explain what sobriety feels like for you.

“Take a left at the next light,” you instruct.

Eddie does as you say. He proceeds to follow your directions, off the main road, avoiding potholes and fallen tree branches. He drives down the windy road, through the woods, until the car comes up on a clear. A parking lot, of sorts. Except there’s no other cars around.

After the metal-head cuts the engine, you tell him to follow and he does, still without protest or question why. You lead him down the bushy slope, drop from grass to pebbles in the least ladylike fashion and hear him say: “Mind your step, angel.”. Your cheeks burn instantly. 

Once you reach the water, Eddie not far behind, you stop. There’s a tree straddling the lake’s edge. Large roots, weeping branches, fine lines on the bark that tell stories older than anyone could even begin to comprehend. A hole in the leaves above makes it the only tree illuminated by sunshine. The edge of the water near it glistens with tiny dancing fairies. A sight to behold, you think.

“Wow,” the metal-head breathes. “How do you know about this place?”

“Robin,” you answer him, “She told me she came here the first night. Said it was a good place to clear one's head.”

The corners of Eddie’s mouth twitches upwards as he takes in the view. This small, secluded lake. Barely seen by the sky. Known to a few, now to him — thanks to you. A girl that’s been in his orbit seemingly forever, yet a mystery all the same.

He doesn’t get to ask why you brought him here because the answer starts to reveal itself when suddenly, you’re stripping off your clothes.

“Shit,” he exhales sharply, snapping his head in the direction of the forest behind. “What are you doing, angel?”

“What does it look like?”

There’s a playfulness to your tone that makes Eddie’s pulse pop. He relishes in the sound, heart strumming like a well-tuned guitar, blood rushing to all the wrong places, (or maybe the right ones). And so the metal-head joins, standing now at the edge of the water in nothing but his boxers and various metal chains. He’s still not looking at you, however. He doesn’t — a gentleman — until he hears a splash and his name being called.

“Come on, hot shot!”

Surrounded by the lake and shadow of the trees, Eddie can barely see you. He follows nonetheless, one foot in front of the other.

The water is unwelcoming. Frigid, crisp. Numbing to the skin. He winces as he glides towards you and the closer he gets, the wider your smile grows.

“Is this some sort of test?” He shouts across.

You giggle and ask loudly, “How do you feel?”

“Oddly, like I’m on fucking fire.” Eddie replies, his voice growing quieter as he stops a mere foot away.

After an inhale of a single breath, you nod.

“This is why I stop myself from drinking.”

Eddie’s brow shoots up. “So you can dunk yourself in freezing cold water?” He asks, bewildered.

“So I can feel alive while doing it.”

His insides contort at your words. There’s something raw about your admission. Like you’ve just exposed a certain part of yourself that you haven’t shown anyone prior to right now. The metal-head has the sudden urge to reach for you, hug you. He wants to shield you from your own demons, your own pain. Protect you from bad memories and bad habits, and take back every single horrible thing he’s ever said to you. Eddie wants to go back in time, to the night of Chrissy’s party, and tell his past self to give you more grace because he finally realises your actions weren’t specifically to hurt him. You were just numb.

“Do you trust me?” You ask, breaking him away from his thoughts.

After he nods, your arms weave around his neck as your legs kick together under the surface, barely brushing. You instruct him to hold his breath and counting down from three, you pull him along, heads underwater.

Panic attacks his nervous system then dissipates just as fast. He can feel everything. Every cell in his body, every muscle. The blood pumping in his veins, the steady stream of energy flowing from his head to his toes. 

And the metal-head can feel you too. In the darkness of the water, his fingertips work the outline of your body. Memorising each dent and curve, each crease and how they all connect to create the perfect shape. 

When your legs wind around his waist, bringing you two chest to chest, Eddie can feel the push and pull of your working lungs. He can no longer hold his breath, a thought crossing his mind: this is the closest he’s ever been with anyone, even physically. Sex doesn’t compare to what he’s after experiencing, although he allows himself to wonder if with you, even that act would be otherworldly.

“Are you alright?” You ask, coming afloat.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

The slight shake of his head sends his locks on a journey, droplets falling from each end and gently splashing against your face. You don’t move. Remain firm with your hands and legs wrapped tightly around the brunette, afraid to let this moment slip — because once you’re back ashore, there’s no safety of deep waters to harbour deep feelings.

Eddie doesn’t intend to move either. His brown gaze latches onto yours again as his fingers continue to dig into your flesh under the confines of the ripples. He’s no longer cold. Hasn’t been for a while. The water has transformed from frostbite to sauna and all it took was a heavy admission, plus your body pressed against his.

There’s a split-second, a breath, an impulse, during which Eddie wants nothing more but to dip his head and kiss you. Hard. Like he’s dreamed of doing for as long as he can remember. Like he should have last night until he chickened out at the last moment — since, at the end of the day, he’s mostly been the opposite of confident when it comes to acting on his feelings towards you.

So instead, Eddie smiles.

“I’m still not going to take cold showers.”

You laugh. “Don’t worry, hot shot, I won’t ever make you do this again.”

“That’s not what I said, angel.” The metal-head points out after shaking his head. “This, I’m actually enjoying.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Then he clears his throat, grin fading to something softer. “I appreciate you bringing me here. I can imagine this wasn’t easy, opening yourself up like this.”

You shrug in his arms.

“It’s different when it’s you,” you admit, voice almost a whisper, while dropping your gaze to his mouth. 

It’s brief, this slip, but Eddie catches the motion of your eyes instantly. By design of some higher power, his grip on you tightens in that moment. His internal turmoil subsides, if only for a moment long enough to do this:

“Fuck, baby.”

And just like that, Eddie’s lips are on yours.

You don’t hesitate to kiss him back. Mouth instantly parting as his nails dig into your sides. He tastes of heaven — disguised by tar from the Lucky Strikes he smokes and the minty aftertaste of blue-packet Mentos. A whole new meaning to the word: intoxicating.

The tips of your fingers tangle themselves in his dark-brown curls, tugging gently with every tilt of your heads. Tongues dancing together, fighting to obtain dominance although you know it’s pointless because the longer Eddie is kissing you, the more you know he’s got all the power and you feel elated.

An explosion of emotions. Love, lust, hurt, betrayal, forgiveness, friendship. They’re all there, swimming together with you and the metal-head. They fuel the kiss further, deepening the intensity. He bites your bottom lip, hands trailing up your bare back until they reach the strap of your bra. That’s when he pulls away. 

“Holy shit,” you breath, heart beating like it’s on a rampage and Eddie’s only matches the tempo.

“Holy shit,” he repeats.

For a moment, you float. Continuously holding onto one another as the sun moves away and the implication of what you just did dawns.

Eddie has the same thought. He hates that it’s the first one after such a magnificent performance, but he can’t help himself. He’s wanted this — you — for as long as he can remember and now that you’re in his arms, now that you kissed him back, he wonders if it’s all too good to be true. He reasons that the worry is warranted because when tomorrow ends, you’ll be on your way back to Vegas and he’ll be licking his wounds once more, waiting for you to change your mind and come back.

The irrational part of him however, wants to taste your lips again. That’s the part that wins.

This kiss is softer. He’s then trailing along your cheek, the tip of your nose. His hands move to cup your face and he forces your eyes closed with his thumbs, then pecks each of your eyelids. He’s committing your features to memory and you shiver under his delicate touch.

Whenever you silently swim back to shore, Eddie’s lips are on yours for the third time. Smiling against his parted mouth, you try to tell him that you two should talk about this, that only a few hours ago you both agreed your communication can be lacking, but he brushes you off. One hand splayed on the small of your wet back, the other holding your jaw, he’s insisting to continue grazing your lips until they’re chapped.

“Tomorrow,” he mutters in between catching his breath, “Tomorrow, before we say goodbye, we can talk about what this means. In the meantime, please let me enjoy you, angel.”

And you don’t argue. Only nod at his request and let him kiss you all the way back to the car. Pushing you up against every other tree, then the bumper of your Jeep, nothing but hunger in his mahogany gaze.

It’s really quite the miracle you get dressed. Breathless and dizzy, reddened lips. Eddie watches you (pretends he’s not) pull the cotton t-shirt over your bra, also concealing the red guitar pick around your neck, and something in him twitches. An urge to rip it back off you and throw you in the backseat. He has to remind himself of your group of friends who are probably wondering what’s taking this long.

The metal-head kisses you once more after helping you into the car. A peck. Short and sweet. Then he drives. Back down the windy trail, through the forest, and out onto the main road. He does so in silence, but it’s different than any quiet you’ve shared before. Filled with a certain four letter word.

Your phone rings. Connected to the sound system of your car, the speakers vibrate as Jax’s name illuminates on the Apple CarPlay. You don’t think when you answer.

“Hey there, lonesome soul.” His voice is chipper, as usual.

Eddie shoots you a glance and mouths ‘lonesome soul’ like a question and you wave your hand to signal you’ll tell him that story later.

“How’s your weekend going?”

“Good.” Then a smile circles your lips. “Great, actually.”

On the other end of the line, you can hear Jax chuckle. “I take it that friendships have been mended.”

“Something like that,” you say and briefly meet Eddie’s eyes. The brunette smirks, licking his lips.

“That’s good, Miss Lonesome.” You can hear the clacking of dishes and you think of the time difference, then of his habit to sleep in at the weekends, and think he must be making a late breakfast.

“Listen, confirming that you still need me to fly out, meet you in Fort Wayne for the trip back home. I know you hate flying alone.”

Home. That word makes Eddie tighten his grip on the steering wheel. Knuckles whitening. He acts before he can change his own mind and presses the mute button.

“Say no.” The metal-head tells you.

You arch a brow. “What?”

“I’ll fly with you. Tell him no.”

A certain sense of satisfaction washes over you as you nod at the metal-head, then unmute.

“I’m glad you called to check,” you begin, “But plans have changed, so you can stay in cosy ol’ Vegas. I’ll be fine.”

“Well, okay.” Jax says, mid bite of something. “I am glad to hear that ‘cause I did say yes to this date, completely forgetting about you. Not intentionally, of course. I’d never intentionally forget about you, lonesome.” He’s babbling and you playfully roll your eyes, even though he can’t see.

“Bye, Jax.” You call out to the speaker, “I’ll see you soon.”

When the call ends, you sit back and tilt your head to look at the metal-head.

“What about your radio show?”

“What about it?” He asks, staring at the road ahead.

You suppress a smile. “Are you sure Dustin is up for covering a couple more slots? Not to mention all of the widows and wives trapped in loveless marriages waiting to hear you on the other end of their radio’s, how will they ever survive?”

Eddie snorts a laugh. “Good one, angel.”

He turns into the driveway, the beautiful lake house coming into view. He parks the Jeep next to his own, more beat-up vehicle, and cuts the engine. As the buzzing of the car dies down, with a hand on the door handle, Eddie turns to you.

“It’ll be fun, no? Give us more time to, I don’t know, catch up.”

“Catch up, huh?”

He smirks. “Among other things, if you’d like?”

You lean across the gear shift knob and kiss him earnestly, as pleased as Punch. 

Steve asked you the other day if you were ‘happy’, you told him yes. Now, sitting here with Eddie, following the afternoon you just spent together, you weren’t so sure if what you’ve been feeling this whole time was indeed happiness. Comfort maybe, disguised as elation, because you had built yourself a good life in Las Vegas. A college course you are passionate about, a job that keeps you busy and pays quite well, new friends who keep your mind and timetable full. None of that seems to matter when Eddie’s lips touch yours. None of that equates being happy.

“Eddie—” You mutter against his mouth.

“Mhm…”

“We should talk earlier than tomorrow.”

The metal-head sighs and pulls away. Then he nods, one long drop, because he doesn’t seem to have any other option. 

Rationally, Eddie knows talking this through is the right thing to do. A lot has happened since your arrival and even more since your late-night conversation last night. A lot changed: especially  feelings, unspoken or otherwise. The kiss(es), plural. Eddie knows talking about what it all means going forward is the right thing to do. He knows and he desperately doesn’t want to do it.

What if you tell him he’s misread the situation and you’re not interested in him like that? He could barely handle it once. A second time and he might just land in bed with one of those lonely middle-aged women that are always chasing him around town — a desperate attempt to forget you after finally having a taste.

What if you tell him you like him too? That’s a whole other can of worms. Can you do long distance? He for sure can’t. He hasn’t seen you for over three years, he can’t handle not being able to see you for a minute longer. However, which one of you is ready to uproot their lives? He presumes the answer is neither.

The questions pile up in his brain and Eddie knows he should get the answers.

“Later?” He proposes, “Today, but later.”

And later it has to be since the metal-head hops out of the car before you get a chance to respond. He helps you next, always the gentleman, and follows you to the front door without saying another word on the matter.

Luckily, your friends don’t question where the two of you have been. Nancy offers some food, considering you’ve missed dinner, so you and Eddie eat outside, watching the rest of them play cards. 

Rummy is their game of choice, although they’re all quite shit and the Vegas girl in you can’t help but make fun of their lame attempts. You offer some tips and even help Robin cheat a couple of times, which gets a rise out of Steve and he makes you “help” him next.

The sun has long set. Jonathan lights some candles while Robin jokes how she didn’t peg him for an ambiance guy. He flips her off. Subtle, but it makes everyone else giggle. Argyle and Steve sneak off to share a joint down by the water, they ask Eddie to join but the metal-head just shakes his head. You wonder if that’s got anything to do with you, but you don’t ask. Instead, you press into his side, arm to arm, and place your head gently on his shoulder.

Robin is eyeing the sight from across the table. She winks in your direction then mouths, “I told you so.”, and you’re in half-a-mind to flip her off too as blood rushes to your face, cheeks burning hot.

Once everyone else has had a few drinks, Rummy becomes even more difficult to grasp and gets exchanged for Uno. Rulebook aside, because you’ve all played by your own ever since you can remember, Nancy deals the first hand. Steve and Argyle return in a fit of joy. They say they won’t play, just observe, so Nancy reshuffles as you whisper to Eddie that he should keep his eyes on his own deck. He nudges your side, a smirk circling his perfect face.

This is the beginning, you let yourself think.

As the game continues, you slip into a momentary feeling of peace. That should have been your first clue of what’s to come next since good things never last. But you ignore the vibrations coming from your phone and they keep piling on. 

Voice notes.

Earlier that morning, on her way out the door, Chrissy Cunnigham spots you on the couch, cuddling in your sleep with her ex-boyfriend. You, the girl she always worried about, despite Eddie’s insistent stance on the matter. The sight before her pale-blue eyes fuels Chrissy’s rage and she decides the highroad isn’t something worth taking.

Received to your old Instagram account, a clear-headed Chrissy Cunningham spills her sorrows into the microphone and shares them with you. The message is clear. Eddie Munson is not who he says he is.

as always, thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

@ali-r3n @thelazyarchangel @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @peculiarwren @fxoxo @losingmygrasponreality @kellsck @sp1dyb0y1008 @mmmunson @somethingvicked @darknesseddiem @scream4mami @pineapplechuncks @sophiejayne-illustrations713 @emxxblog @bl0ssomanddie @theladyhellfire @gracelouiseoneill @emquinn94 @transparent-enemy @rach5ive @knew-better-forever-girl-two @lemonmarquee @mossgh0st @probablyin-bed @dustbowleddie @residentoftomlinsonsass @heart-eyed-love @munsonburn3r @helsa3942 @althaiareads @theladyhellfire @v1per1ne @sugarplumsweetiepie @rizzraa @micheledawn1975 @gracelouiseoneill @moremaple @bigpoppascherry @jeangeniex @daisy-munson @ceeezy @kissmyacdc @cyressluvy @mango-slush-boba @iyskgd

[castieltrash1]

Heyyy! Would you be willing to write a Saxon x fem!reader story with the she fell first but he fell harder trope? I need to see that man crash out when he realizes he’s in love with her (like in that tweet about this trope where the “fell harder” person is like “if I can’t get married tomorrow I will start biting people” 😭😂) thanks!

ty for the req saxon is like a brain worm to me i became addicted to him so im excited for this :3

saxon ratliff x fem!reader; mutual pining, she fell first/he fell harder trope, mentions of sex, canonical doucheyness heh

you’re not someone saxon would initially concern himself with, especially when you begin to show interest in him quickly after meeting. he likes the chase, the ego boost he gets from convincing someone to change their mind about him. it’s less about turning hate into love, and more about the slight shift from bashful resistance to feeble acceptance. if he knows he has power over you right away, the spark dissipates. this isn’t to say he won’t fuck you -- but that’s probably all he’ll do. whoever you’re on vacation with in thailand (friends, family, even your own brain) will continually remind you of that. hit it and quit it, one night stand, muay thai and chill -- you hear it all.

but you’re determined, which he likes. if you asked why, he’d said he’s not used to women in his life being so forward with their wants/desires, though it’s clear that assumption comes from a very warped perspective of female sexuality. you’re simply the first person he’s really noticed doing it, something he attributes to a lack of external distractions. without pornhub and an explore page full of instagram models, saxon is forced to acknowledge that you want him, not just in the way he's used to, and you’re not afraid to show it.

of course, as he accepts this massive mind-fuck and spirals, you shift your attention elsewhere. if he’s not going to share your passion, why waste your time? you’ve got all of ko samui to explore, with or without him! spoiler alert, it will be WITH him because now he’s trailing behind you like a lost dog. it’s what he’s used to -- the hunt -- but he hates it this time. he hates watching you devote your time to anything or anyone that doesn’t revolve around him. you shouldn’t expect anything less from such a spoiled guy, honestly.

you don’t need to open your eyes to see what, or who, suddenly covered the sun from shining down on you, interrupting your scheduled tanning time. still, you turn toward the emerging shadow, cracking a single lid open to peer at saxon through your tinted shades. he’s in just a pair of swimming shorts, a conscious decision if the subtle flexing of his muscles and position of his crotch inches from your face is any indication.

“if i wanted an umbrella, i would’ve sat under one,” you casually remark, ignoring the way his gaze drags over your exposed skin, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

“i think we should have dinner together. tonight.”

“can’t. busy.”

his smile falters, brows twitching together in confusion. he knows he hasn’t been reading the last few days wrong -- you want him, and he’s ready to make your wishes come true. he blinks in disbelief, the silence between you two thick with anticipation, before he scoffs, fingers flexing at his sides.

“uh, okay. fine,” he says, feigning indifference as he stomps off like a tantrum-throwing toddler. “whatever.”

+ once saxon’s groveled enough to get you back, he is NOT letting you go. whatever outings you’ve planned or hotel accommodations you’ve scheduled will now be a couple’s experience! if it’s not something he can join (or make you cancel,) he’ll whine about it for hours before and after, only shutting up when you offer him some form of reassurance. basically, let him help you christen every surface of your suite and he’ll call it even.

white lotus weekend 🪷

[whetstonefires]

My personal take on how we're supposed to understand the role of Wei Wuxian's alternate cultivation method in fucking him up so bad is that:

It's deliberately ambiguous; he never actually does anything that's so utterly out of character it has to be attributed to Evil Energies. And at each stage of deterioration, he always has exciting new traumas precipitating the decline. I think we're set up to expect him to have been more explicitly Corrupted By Dark Magics than he ever turns out to have been, because that's a very standard trope that's being played with. But like, he went into Tunnel Vision Murder Mode just fine on his own, during his effort to get Jiang Cheng back right after the massacre; Wen Ning really struggled to talk him down enough to accept help, and he remained a paranoid mess all the way to Yiling. That's all trauma, no dark magic yet! Equally, a lot of stuff from the Burial Mounds on could be driven in part by direct contact with ghosts and ghouls being bad for his mental health on a spiritual pollution basis. But a lot of it is very definitely PTSD, and the isolating effects of having to keep his disability secret, especially from the person he should be most able to lean on, but can't.

A big part of why it wasn't fucking him up worse was that he'd lost his core. You know how Nie Mingjue died? How the Nie sect leaders usually die? Qi deviation, due to corruption from the resentful spirits of dead animals. Well, actually due to Jin Guangyao, but it followed the expected pattern, and resulted in him losing his mind to the point of killing anyone he could reach. This is a cultivator-specific problem, something that arises from having a cultivation base that gets warped out of true. And the stronger they are, the worse it gets; the more inevitable and extreme the dissolution. The details of the Nie problem are secret, but its underlying principles are common knowledge. Wei Wuxian was uniquely positioned as a talented, experienced cultivator who no longer had a cultivation base to fuck up. Being able to push the corpse path as far as he did without going into a fatal qi deviation or otherwise blowing himself up was due to this special circumstance--normally, anyone with the expertise to operate at that level has built up their cultivation to a high enough level to be vulnerable to corruption, and anyone without a cultivation base to send into deviation has no way to have developed the necessary skills with manipulating energy and so forth. (And probably doesn't have a sufficient background education either, and if they do have the education and yet no cultivation to speak of, they probably lack talent.) Even apart from his unique genius, no one else could have done it. He should have gone crazy and died, years earlier. A cultivator would have. Which was a big part of the reason he didn't really engage on the subject at all, and just focused on deflection and stonewalling everyone, rather than trying to make a case for himself. And why he wasn't taking outside opinions about the risk seriously, because they didn't know what they were talking about, and he couldn't afford for them to think too hard about why they were wrong.

So when he ultimately had the massive murder breakdown, everyone understood it as a purely personal thing that was happening inside of him due to his personal choice to live a self-destructive lifestyle, validating the righteousness of everyone who didn't make that choice. Rather than the result of largely-systemic external forces acting on him and his loved ones to the point that he broke. And society didn't have to assume any responsibility whatsoever.

[thedensworld]

What A Revenge | Y.Jh

Pairing: Jeonghan x reader

Genre: revenge AU, marriage contract AU, triangle love ft. seungcheol

Summary: After an unexpected rendezvous after a one night stand, Jeonghan asked Mingyu to set him up with you. However you had a different situation and it's getting complicated.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

"I'm going to get married,"

Jeonghan's words hung in the air, seemingly simple to himself, but the impact on his family was profound. His grandfather, the current president of the company, raised a stern brow, his expression betraying both surprise and concern. Seungcheol, his cousin, mirrored the disbelief, and even Jeonghan's parents scowled, their skepticism evident.

Caught off guard, Jeonghan's father coughed, attempting to redirect the conversation and attribute his son's statement to impulsive behavior. "He's joking, he might mean the merger that happened last—"

Jeonghan interrupted with unwavering determination, "No, I'm very serious. I'm going to get married in two months." The room fell into an uneasy silence as the weight of his announcement settled among the stunned family members.

Seungcheol nodded and carefully set down his utensils, his gaze fixed on Jeonghan. "Great news. Do we know that 'lucky' woman?" he asked, purposefully emphasizing the word 'lucky,' injecting a subtle pressure into the question. Jeonghan, however, remained oblivious to the underlying tone.

Responding with a genuine smile, Jeonghan said, "I don't think you know her, but she's an incredible person." Despite the sincerity in his words, uncertainty lingered in the air, as Jeonghan pondered the hidden implications behind Seungcheol's inquiry.

Seungcheol's father chimed in, attempting to cloak his words in a compliment, "It's really amazing if you want to marry her as soon as possible, Jeonghan." Yet, a trace of sarcasm tainted his tone, leaving Jeonghan to navigate the subtle complexities of the conversation. Unbeknownst to Seungcheol's father, Jeonghan saw through the facade, recognizing the bait successfully laid out before him. As the tension simmered, a storm of emotions churned within the room, each character concealing their true intentions beneath a veneer of polite conversation.

The grandfather, who had been an attentive observer throughout the conversation, cleared his throat and offered a proposition, "If you're being serious, you should introduce her to us. How about next week? Let's have a dinner with her here on Saturday night."

As Jeonghan exited his grandfather's house, a forced smile adorned his face. His parents confronted him after the dinner, their scolding fueled by a deep understanding of Jeonghan's tendency to prioritize work over personal relationships.

"Jeonghan, if this is just a card you're about to throw, let's stop whatever game you're planning on," his father cautioned before getting into the car. With a chuckle, Jeonghan responded, "It's just a small card for a start," his words carrying a hint of mystery as he watched his parents drive away. The air was thick with unspoken tension, leaving Jeonghan to navigate the intricate web of expectations and his own carefully crafted plans.

"Jeonghan, congratulations on finding the one," Seungcheol remarked, hands casually tucked into his pockets as he extended one for a handshake.

"Thanks," Jeonghan replied with a measured tone, accepting the handshake with a nod. Seungcheol positioned himself beside Jeonghan, a subtle quizzical expression on his face as he recalled, "Wasn't it just last year you told me that you won't get married?" Seungcheol reminisced about the conversation they had on Jeonghan's birthday, a stark reminder of the swift turns life can take.

Jeonghan nodded, his gaze lingering on some distant thought. "Yeah..."

A pregnant pause hung in the air as he reflected, "But this year is different."

"You know how marriage changes things, right?" Jeonghan redirected his gaze towards Seungcheol, inviting him into a conversation that seemed to be skirting the edges of unspoken dynamics.

"Marriage used to make your father a part of our family," Jeonghan continued, his words introducing an unexpected element into the discussion. Seungcheol's brows furrowed, the mention of his father injecting a note of discomfort.

"Marriage also used to elevate my father to today's position," Jeonghan added, drawing attention to his own family's success within the company. The complexity of intertwining relationships and power dynamics became apparent, leaving an unspoken tension in the room.

Jeonghan paused, a sly smirk playing on his lips. "Marriage might also secure your position, into mine."

Seungcheol tilted his head, an unmistakable anger beginning to crawl across his face. Jeonghan, seemingly unfazed, patted his shoulder, delivering a cryptic message. "I have to go, Seungcheol," he announced, leaving behind a whirlwind of implications, leaving Seungcheol to grapple with the unexpected turn of events.

*

"Why was I informed this morning that you're going to get married?" Joshua's voice sliced through the air as he welcomed Jeonghan into his office, nearly sending Jeonghan into a heart attack as he crossed the threshold.

"That is true," Jeonghan replied calmly, though his heart raced with the unexpected confrontation. He settled into a chair, ready to dive into the day's tasks, but Joshua's demeanor gave him pause.

Joshua's brow furrowed into a scowl as he rolled his eyes, the tension palpable in the room. "Who are you going to marry?" he demanded, his tone tinged with disbelief and perhaps a hint of jealousy.

Jeonghan straightened in his seat, his expression serene despite the growing unease. "Ji Y/n. Do you know her?" he asked casually, attempting to diffuse the tension with a light tone.

Lee Jihoon, sensing the tension in the room, entered with two coffees and two sandwiches, silently offering a brief moment of distraction. But the tension lingered, thickening the air between the two men as they waited for Joshua's response.

"Here's for you, Mr. Hong," Jihoon said, setting down the extra coffee with practiced ease. Jeonghan couldn't help but marvel at Jihoon's efficiency, though he refrained from asking about the extra item, knowing Jihoon's reliability all too well.

"What's in my plate today, Jihoon?" Joshua inquired, his voice a blend of curiosity and authority.

Jihoon wasted no time in retrieving his boss's schedule. "You have a monthly meeting with the accounting and marketing departments at 9. After lunch, you have to attend the parents' semester meeting at Mingyu's school."

Jeonghan's smile widened at the mention of Mingyu's school, anticipation bubbling within him. He couldn't wait to see you there.

"Jihoon, did you know your boss is dating someone? He's going to get married in March," Joshua interjected casually, eager to share the surprising news with his loyal secretary.

"M-married? I-i never heard about that... Would you like me to put it into your schedule, Mr. Yoon?" Jihoon stammered, clearly taken aback by the bombshell revelation.

Joshua chuckled at Jihoon's shocked response, finding amusement in Jeonghan's apparent secrecy. He couldn't help but wonder if the information he received from his own secretary, Myungho, was indeed accurate. After all, Myungho had been informed by Moon Junhui, the main secretary of the vice president and Jeonghan's father.

"You can go, Jihoon. We'll discuss my schedule tomorrow," Jeonghan dismissed, taking a sip of his coffee before rising from his seat and approaching Joshua, who was lounging on the couch with an air of amusement.

"News spreads quicker than I thought," Jeonghan remarked, a hint of resignation in his tone. "And yes, I'm getting married in March."

"Who's Ji Y/n? Do I know her? Is she a celebrity?" Joshua inquired, his curiosity piqued by the mention of the mysterious fiancée.

Jeonghan shook his head, a wistful expression crossing his features. "She's just someone I've met two or three times. But she's the perfect match to be the wife of my grandfather's company vice president."

Joshua raised an eyebrow, a mixture of surprise and skepticism evident on his face. "And here I thought you were giving up already... What's with the sudden passion to gain the title again?"

Jeonghan shrugged, his gaze distant as he recalled the events of the previous night's family dinner. "Playing games with Seungcheol is just too fun. I was just getting started, Josh. But it seems like everyone around him is already feeling the pressure."

Joshua regarded him with a mix of concern and understanding. "You do realize that whatever you're doing to Seungcheol now is pretty childish, right? You two were best friends and cousins."

A heavy silence settled between them, pregnant with unspoken truths and unresolved emotions. Jeonghan let out a deep sigh, grappling with the urge to reveal the true extent of Seungcheol's betrayal, the way he had callously discarded their friendship in pursuit of personal gain.

"Yeah, it was childish. But who cares?" Jeonghan's words hung in the air, tinged with bitterness and a hint of resignation, signaling the depth of his disillusionment with the situation.

*

You closed your eyes and let out a heavy breath as you sat on the toilet, the exhaustion of the day weighing heavily on your shoulders. Thoughts of surviving until the next lesson and enduring the upcoming parents' meeting only added to your weariness. The morning had started with a call from the principal, informing you of a scandalous rumor circulating about you.

The rumor had spread like wildfire, fueled by a post in the school community depicting you with a man, entering a hotel together. The caption, scandalous and defamatory, branded you as a promiscuous teacher who slept around with men. The principal's warning echoed in your mind, the threat of potential expulsion looming over you like a dark cloud.

Your hands found their way to your face, as if trying to physically dispel the exhaustion and frustration building within you. You had zero energy left to address the rumor, overwhelmed by the weight of everything on your plate. And no one seemed to care. Other teachers openly mocked you, discussing the false rumors in front of you as if you were invisible. You had no illusions that the students would act any differently; they seemed to thrive on the scandal, eagerly spreading and embellishing the gossip as if it were gospel truth. It was a lonely and disheartening realization, one that left you feeling isolated and helpless in the face of malicious rumors and indifference.

"Being a teacher is hard, we get paid less too. Sleeping around and getting paid after was easier. No wonder she would do that," you heard someone comment as they entered the room.

"But isn't she taken? She was engaged," another voice interjected, prompting another heavy sigh from you.

"What do you mean engaged? They broke off the engagement two years ago. I guess this must be the reason behind it. I can't believe Ms. Ji would do such a thing," another voice chimed in, the words cutting through you like a knife.

With a resolve born out of frustration and indignation, you stood and opened the door, confronting the group of gossiping teachers who stood in front of the mirror. They were momentarily stunned by your presence, their mouths tightening in discomfort before one of them coughed awkwardly.

"Is the rumor true, Ms. Ji?" one of them finally dared to ask, their eyes darting nervously between you and their companions.

You forced a smile, though it felt like a mask slipping over the turmoil brewing inside you. "We're in school. I don't think it's a proper topic for conversation," you replied evenly, your voice betraying none of the hurt and anger swirling within you.

The teachers exchanged knowing glances before one of them spoke up again, their words dripping with disdain. "Then be a proper teacher first. Not the one who sleeps around and gets caught."

The accusation hung in the air like a poison, the weight of their judgment heavy on your shoulders as you stood there, feeling exposed and vulnerable in the face of their gossip. It was a bitter reminder of the harsh reality of navigating the treacherous waters of rumor and reputation as a teacher, where even the slightest whisper of scandal could tarnish your name irreparably.

Without giving much thought to the gossiping teachers, you exited the restroom and made your way to your office. Your next lesson awaited, and you refused to let the venomous words of your colleagues ruin your mood.

Upon entering the classroom, your eyes immediately found Mingyu. A pang of guilt stabbed at your heart as you remembered the photos of you and his uncle entering the hotel, a revelation that still unsettled you. You tried to push aside the distraction, focusing instead on the task at hand.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the class ahead, and began by greeting the students. As expected, the atmosphere was cold and indifferent, the once respectful and attentive students now treating you with disdain and disregard. It was a stark contrast to the camaraderie and engagement you had previously enjoyed in your classroom, and it cut deeply.

Exhaling another heavy sigh, you couldn't help but wonder what sin you had committed to deserve such treatment. Whoever had posted those photos and spread the malicious rumors must have harbored a deep-seated hatred towards you. The thought gnawed at your conscience, leaving you feeling isolated and misunderstood. Despite your efforts to remain composed, the weight of the situation bore down on you, casting a shadow over what should have been a normal day of teaching.

"As you already knew, Korean culture has influenced a lot by—" your words were abruptly interrupted by the harsh creak of the door swinging open. Startled, you shifted your gaze from your students to the source of the distraction, and there stood a familiar figure, her presence commanding the room's attention. She was one of your students' guardians.

Slap.

A collective gasp filled the room as the palm of her hand collided with your cheek. A tingling sensation spread across your skin, leaving a trail of discomfort in its wake. You could feel the heat rising to your face, and you knew there would be a red mark left behind.

Unable to find your voice amidst the shock, you remained silent, but the tension in the room was palpable. Amidst the chaos, a hushed whisper broke the silence as one of your students stood from her seat and muttered, "Mom..."

"How dare you, an inappropriate teacher, teach my daughter! You're nothing but a slut who sleeps around," the guardian accused, her words dripping with disdain and contempt.

The weight of her accusation hit you like a ton of bricks, and a mix of emotions swirled within you – shock, disbelief, and a profound sense of injustice. It was a moment that would linger in your memory, forever etched as a painful reminder of the challenges you faced as a teacher, and the harsh judgments you endured from those who were quick to condemn without understanding.

Her voice reverberated loudly enough that nearby teachers from neighboring classrooms began to intervene. You stood there, feeling like an idiot for failing to protect yourself from those rumors and remaining silent about them. Your pride as a teacher crumbled, leaving you feeling vulnerable and incompetent as you struggled to explain the situation.

A fellow teacher stepped forward and gently took your arm, guiding you out of the classroom to avoid further disruption to the students' studies. Mr. Lee, with a reassuring smile, assured you that he would take care of your class and that you didn't need to worry.

Now, standing in the principal's office, you felt a sense of unease settle over you as the woman who had slapped you and Mr. Park, the principal himself, sat on the couch. You found it difficult to articulate the truth when they asked you about the rumors. Explaining the reality of the situation felt impossible, as it would only lend credence to the false accusations of promiscuity.

"So, is the rumor true?" the woman demanded, her tone accusatory.

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, "It's not true, ma'am."

"Then explain the pictures," Mr. Park pressed, his expression stern.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their scrutiny bearing down on you. How could you possibly explain the truth without incriminating yourself further? The mere mention of the photos filled you with dread, knowing that they only served to further tarnish your reputation and cast doubt on your integrity.

You winced as Mrs. Jung's voice rang out, her words hitting you like a physical blow. Your legs threatened to give out beneath you as she mentioned the possibility of being fired, and the thought of her daughter being taught by someone like you filled you with a sense of dread and shame.

She didn't stop there, escalating her threats by invoking her husband's position at Nevitech, leveraging it to expedite the process of your dismissal. The mention of a meeting with the school foundation's board sent a chill down your spine, knowing that your fate hung precariously in the balance.

Before Mr. Park could respond, the door swung open, revealing someone of great importance to him. Both Mr. Park and Mrs. Jung immediately rose to their feet as the person they had mentioned earlier entered the principal's office – none other than the Chairman himself.

You dared not meet his gaze, fully aware of who he was and the reason for his unexpected visit before the scheduled meeting later in the afternoon.

"I was going to visit before the parents meeting, but I heard that we have some not very nice rumors surrounding," Choi Seungcheol, the Chairman, stated as he entered the room, declining Mr. Park's handshake in favor of approaching you directly.

With gentle concern in his voice, he held your shoulders and guided you to sit on one of the sofas. "Are you okay? You should sit," he said softly, his comforting gesture a stark contrast to the hostility that had filled the room moments before.

Mr. Park seemed taken aback by how Seungcheol treated you. "Mr. Choi, it's very nice to see you, but... Do you know Ms. Ji?"

Seungcheol nodded before he settled himself beside you, his gaze drifting over your demeanor. He couldn't help but notice the faint red stain on your cheek, a stark reminder of the recent altercation. His secretary had driven like a madman to get here upon hearing your name mentioned in connection with the troubling rumors at the school. Seungcheol was one of the few people who knew just how passionate you were about teaching.

"She's... a friend," he said, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he glanced at Mr. Park. "However, I overheard someone mentioning a board meeting. Mr. Lee, am I available in the near future?"

"I am afraid you are, sir," Mr. Lee, Seungcheol's secretary, replied promptly.

Seungcheol smiled at Mrs. Jung and Mr. Park, though the warmth didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm really disappointed by how you've failed to protect one of your staff, Mr. Park. I thought you were better at handling this kind of situation."

Mr. Park's expression immediately turned contrite as he bowed in apology. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Choi."

"And your husband's name, Ma'am?" Seungcheol's tone was firm, his disappointment evident. "I can't believe that someone in my company would use his position to target the vulnerable."

Following Mr. Park's lead, Mrs. Jung also bowed in apology for causing a scene and invoking her husband's position. "I acted recklessly, Mr. Choi."

Seungcheol shook his head, his gaze turning towards you. "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to. Ms. Ji is. I've known her long enough to realize she's a potential teacher with a lot of ambition. She's denied the rumors, and it's Mr. Park's responsibility to find out who's behind them."

Mr. Park bowed once again, his determination evident. "Yes, I'll find the culprit immediately, sir."

As the tension in the room began to ease slightly, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you.

*

Seungcheol settled beside you on the school park bench mere minutes after you both stepped out of the principal's office. He handed you a cold water bottle and gently urged you to press it against your stinging cheek. Your eyes couldn't help but notice the gleam of an engagement ring still adorning his finger, a painful feeling hit you like a truck.

"I'm sorry for what happened," he mumbled softly, his gaze lingering on your face.

You nodded in acknowledgment of his words, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. The humiliation of the recent events weighed heavily on you, and you felt a sense of shame that made it impossible to look anyone in the eye. Your pride had been shattered, leaving you feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Seungcheol's presence beside you offered a small measure of comfort, but it also served as a painful reminder of what could never be. The gap between you felt insurmountable, a chasm of misunderstanding and regret that seemed impossible to bridge. As you sat there in silence, the weight of the situation hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over any hope of resolution or reconciliation.

"It's been a long time, and meeting you again like this... I'm glad, I honestly really am," he said, offering a gentle smile.

"How do you know?" You asked, turning your head to face him. This time, your eyes met for the first time since two years ago, when he broke off the engagement and left you in the apartment, shattered and alone. The memories flooded back – the exact moment, the chilling air, the crushing weight of heartbreak. And as you looked into his eyes now, it felt like your heart was breaking all over again.

"Seokmin told me about the rumors, and his brother updates him on what's happening in this school," he explained. "They're really great siblings, even though they don't look alike at all."

You found yourself contemplating Lee Seokmin and Lee Chan, the PE teacher. Despite the turmoil, you made a mental note to treat Mr. Lee to a nice meal once everything had settled.

"Thanks," you said softly, leaning back against the bench. The weight of the day's events pressed heavily upon you, but Seungcheol's presence offered a glimmer of solace amidst the chaos. It was a bittersweet reunion, tinged with the ache of unresolved emotions and the lingering sting of past wounds.

Seungcheol looked at you, his expression a mix of bewilderment and uncertainty. He blinked, then chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah..."

"Why?" you asked, curious about his reaction.

"It's just new to me, that you're not mad. I thought you were upset because I helped you earlier," he admitted, shaking his head slightly.

You managed a faint smile at his confession. "But, it's nothing. You're a friend to me."

Friend. The word echoed in your mind, stirring up a mix of emotions you tried to suppress. You nodded along with his words, though each one stung a little.

"Ji Y/n..."

You looked up to see Yoon Jeonghan breathlessly running toward you, suddenly enveloping you in his embrace. "Are you alright, honey?"

You winced at the pet name Jeonghan called you, feeling a twinge of discomfort at the familiarity. Seungcheol, on the other hand, remained stone cold as he observed his cousin immediately pull you into a tight hug. It all clicked into place for Seungcheol when he noticed Jeonghan scrutinizing you, his hands gently caressing your cheeks. The realization dawned on him as he connected the dots between the guy in the photo with you and Jeonghan.

Taking a step back, Seungcheol watched in silence as Jeonghan continued to dote on you, his demeanor strikingly different from his usual self. He couldn't help but notice how your face flushed in Jeonghan's presence, a stark contrast to the lack of reaction when you were with him earlier. The sight tugged at Seungcheol's heart, igniting a pang of jealousy that he struggled to suppress.

As he glanced down at his engagement ring, a reminder of his enduring love for you, Seungcheol felt a heaviness settle in his chest. Despite his efforts to keep his emotions in check, he couldn't deny the ache of longing that gnawed at him.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, Seungcheol met Jeonghan's gaze, realizing that his cousin had noticed him standing silently behind you all this time. The tension in the air was palpable, each of them silently grappling with their own emotions and desires amidst the tangled web of relationships and unspoken truths.

"Seungcheol, this is Jeonghan, a—”

"Boyfriend," Jeonghan interjected smoothly, completing the sentence in a single beat. Seungcheol hoped his ears were playing tricks on him, but the way Jeonghan's hand rested possessively on your waist confirmed his worst fears.

"We've known each other, honey," Jeonghan added, his tone casual as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Seungcheol couldn't bring himself to focus on the conversation between the couple. His mind was consumed by thoughts of how much you had changed over time, in all the ways that mattered. He couldn't help but notice the subtle shifts in your demeanor, the way your smile seemed brighter and your laughter more carefree.

But amidst his admiration, a sense of impending doom loomed over him. He knew he was doomed to leave you, trapped by obligations and expectations that threatened to tear them apart. As he watched you with Jeonghan, the weight of his decision pressed heavily upon him, a burden he couldn't shake no matter how hard he tried.

*

Convincing you to marry him was surprisingly easier than Jeonghan had anticipated. After conducting research on you, Jeonghan's people unearthed a few key facts that could sway you in his favor:

1. You were Seungcheol's ex-fiancée.

2. You were currently facing financial instability.

3. Your father required a costly neurological surgery.

Of course, Jeonghan didn't reveal his knowledge of your past relationship with Seungcheol. That was merely a piece of leverage he intended to exploit along the way. However, when he mentioned his willingness to assist with your father's surgery, he noticed a flicker of consideration in your eyes—a promising start.

With the help of Mingyu, Jeonghan arranged a meeting with you to present his proposal. Although you hadn't given him a definitive answer yet, the mere fact that you were considering it was a small victory for Jeonghan. He was impatient to move forward, eager to unveil the next card in his carefully crafted plan—a contractual marriage that would benefit both of you.

In just two years' time, Jeonghan envisioned achieving his goals. He would ensure your needs were met, take responsibility for your father's health, and inch closer to inheriting his grandfather's company, Golden Group. The prospect of success fueled Jeonghan's determination, driving him to push forward with his calculated scheme, even as he grappled with the moral implications of his actions.

"Let's have a check and sue that woman," Jeonghan said as he turned on the car engine, promising to take you home after the incident that had occurred at school.

"Let's do that..." you responded, your voice resolute.

Jeonghan turned his head to you, unable to comprehend the meaning behind your words. "Do wha—"

"Let's get married."

Jeonghan jolted, his foot instinctively pressing on the brake. "You serious?"

You nodded firmly, your determination shining through. "Yeah... When is the wedding going to be held, as you said?"

Jeonghan blinked in astonishment, trying to process the fact that you had accepted his proposal so quickly. He had given you a month to think it over, but it had only been a week, and you were already giving him an answer. Was it related to your meeting with Seungcheol earlier? He made a mental note to ask you about it later; he was curious how Seungcheol had been there before him.

"In two months," he replied, still trying to wrap his head around the sudden turn of events.

You nodded, your gaze unwavering. "You promised to do the things you said on the paper, didn't you?"

A smirk tugged at the corners of Jeonghan's lips as he raised an eyebrow. "Of course, honey."

*

Marriage Contract

This agreement is entered into on March 21st between Yoon Jeonghan, hereinafter referred to as the "First Party," and Ji Y/n, hereinafter referred to as the "Second Party."

Terms and Conditions:

1. Living Arrangements:

- Both parties agree to reside under the same roof, with the option of separate rooms. However, in the event of family visits, both parties are obliged to share the same room.

2. Schedule Adaptation:

- The Second Party shall adapt their schedule to accommodate the needs of the First Party. The Second Party is obligated to accompany the First Party to any events or commitments the First Party has in the future.

3. Public Display of Affection:

- Both parties agree to engage in displays of affection, referred to as "skinship," in public settings.

4. Responsibilities:

- The Second Party agrees to accept all responsibilities, including but not limited to health, wealth, and familial matters, under the guidance and direction of the First Party.

5. Monogamy:

- Both parties agree to maintain a monogamous relationship and refrain from engaging in any form of open relationship or extramarital affairs.

6. Intimacy:

- Intimate activities between the parties shall be conducted with mutual consent.

Term and Termination:

This Contract shall remain in effect indefinitely unless terminated by mutual agreement or as provided by law.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, the parties hereto have executed this Contract as of the date first written above.

Yoon Jeonghan

Ji Y/n

*

Jeonghan let out a heavy sigh as he surveyed yet another suit in the store. When he had stepped into the shop, he had a simple mantra in mind: "Let's keep it simple." Little did he know that his own mother would be present, ready to torture him with her choices of suits and gowns for both him and you.

"Oh my goodness, look at you!" His mother's voice cut through the air, drawing Jeonghan's attention away from the report his secretary had sent him. He glanced up to see you standing before him, adorned in the most beautiful bridal gown he had ever seen. While he admittedly had zero knowledge about women's fashion, particularly bridal gowns, there was no denying the breathtaking elegance of the dress. And yet, he couldn't determine if it was the gown itself or simply the way you wore it that made it so captivating.

Lost in his thoughts, Jeonghan didn't realize he had been staring at you until he heard a sob emanate from his mother. He quickly approached her, finding her engulfing you in a tight hug while tears streamed down her cheeks. Confusion flickered in his eyes as he exchanged a questioning look with you, but you mirrored his expression of bewilderment.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but you could stain the gown with your tears and makeup," the staff said gently, causing Jeonghan's mother to pull away from you, wiping her tears away with trembling hands. Her eyes were filled with a mixture of sadness and longing as she looked at him. "It reminds me of your sister."

Jeonghan felt a pang of guilt in his chest as he watched his mother struggle to compose herself. He had never seen her so vulnerable before, her emotions laid bare in front of him. The weight of his actions suddenly became all too real to him, realizing that the game he was playing was causing genuine pain to the woman who had always supported him.

As he looked at his mother, her eyes mirroring the grief she still carried for his sister, Jeonghan's heart sank. He knew he couldn't continue down this path, hurting those he loved in the process. It was a sobering moment for him, a realization that there were consequences to his actions beyond the thrill of the game.

Strike one, for the first time he started feel bad playing his own game.

You and Jeonghan spent the time afterward visiting your father in the nursery. His surgery was scheduled after your wedding, and he was visibly excited to hear about your upcoming nuptials. As you approached your father's room, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety fluttered in your chest.

Before Jeonghan could enter the room, you gently placed a hand on his arm, stopping him in his tracks. He looked at you, surprised by the sudden halt, but as he met your gaze, he saw the subtle warning in your eyes. Without uttering a word, you were conveying a message to him, a silent plea to be understanding and patient.

"Whatever he's going to say, and if it's hurting you, he doesn't mean it, okay?" you whispered to Jeonghan, your voice laced with a mixture of concern and affection. Despite the gravity of the situation, there was an undeniable warmth in your tone, a reflection of the deep love you held for your father despite his flaws.

Jeonghan's smile widened, a genuine expression of understanding dawning on his features. In that moment, he realized just how much you cared for your father. However, willing to shield Jeonghan from any potential hurtful words, is it also caring?

"Is it my princess, Y/n?" Your father's voice quivered with affection as he watched you approach, a tender smile gracing his lips. You embraced him dearly, holding onto him as if to capture every precious moment in your heart. Jeonghan stood behind you, observing the intimate moment with quiet patience, his gaze filled with admiration for the bond you shared with your father.

As your father turned his attention to Jeonghan, his expression shifted, surprise evident in his features. "And who is this?" he inquired, curiosity tinged with a hint of suspicion.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the inevitable confrontation. "This is Yoon Jeonghan, my fiancé," you announced, your voice steady despite the internal turmoil.

A flicker of confusion crossed your father's face. "Isn't your fiancé Seungcheol?" he asked, his words cutting through the air like a sharp knife.

You glanced at Jeonghan, a silent apology reflected in your eyes. "What are you talking about, Dad? Seungcheol and I broke up years ago," you explained softly, your voice laced with pain as memories of the past resurfaced, threatening to overwhelm you.

"Why?" Your father's question hung heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the heartache you had endured. Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to find the right words to explain.

Sensing your sudden distress, Jeonghan stepped forward, his presence a comforting anchor in the midst of turmoil. With a respectful bow, he introduced himself to your father, his voice steady and reassuring. "Nice to meet you, Father. I'm Yoon Jeonghan, your princess's fiancé," he declared with unwavering conviction, his words echoing with sincerity and determination.

Your father nodded in acknowledgment of Jeonghan's words, a flicker of interest sparking in his eyes as he glanced at the chess set laid out on the table. "Y/n said you like playing chess. I was an athlete back in high school," Jeonghan remarked, trying to find common ground with your father.

"Really?" Your father's tone held a hint of intrigue as he considered Jeonghan's offer. "Let's play chess then. It's been a long time since I played with someone younger. I get easily bored every time I play with my wife and my brother," he chuckled, his eyes twinkling with anticipation at the prospect of a new opponent.

The drive to your house was quiet, the tension in the air palpable as everyone processed the events of the day. Despite the outward appearance of calm, Jeonghan couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. He stole glances at you multiple times, noticing the subtle shifts in your mood and demeanor.

"Your father knows Seungcheol..." Jeonghan mumbled softly, breaking the silence that had settled over them. You hummed in response, a faint furrow forming between your brows as you contemplated his words.

"What's wrong with you and Seungcheol?" Jeonghan's inquiry hung in the air, his voice gentle yet probing.

You let out a weary sigh, the weight of the past weighing heavily on your shoulders. "We just couldn't find it easy to be together," you admitted, your words tinged with a hint of resignation.

Jeonghan sensed that there was more to the story than you were letting on. "Is it his family?" he ventured, his intuition guiding him to a possible source of conflict.

"One of them..." you replied cryptically, your gaze drifting away as memories of past confrontations resurfaced. It was clear to Jeonghan that there were deeper issues at play, hidden beneath the surface of your relationship with Seungcheol.

Nodding in understanding, Jeonghan silently acknowledged the complexities of familial dynamics and the toll they could take on a relationship. Despite the lack of explicit details, he could empathize with your struggles, recognizing that Seungcheol's family could indeed be a source of pain and discord.

"My father's brain function was damaged after a car accident two years ago," you confessed, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air. The memory of that tragic day seemed to linger, casting a shadow over the present. "The accident sent my mother and my uncle into death. My father was in a coma for three months before he regained consciousness."

As you spoke, Jeonghan listened intently, his heart aching with empathy for the pain you had endured. The devastation of losing loved ones and witnessing your father's struggle with dementia painted a grim picture of the challenges you faced.

"He has had to undergo multiple surgeries to try and recover from the dementia," you continued, your voice trembling with emotion. "But I can't afford it. His business went bankrupt, and I'm just a teacher."

Jeonghan's heart sank as he absorbed the gravity of your words. The enormity of the situation weighed heavily on him, and he felt a surge of guilt wash over him. Here you were, facing insurmountable obstacles, while he had been blissfully unaware of the extent of your struggles.

"You don't have to worry now," Jeonghan promised solemnly, his voice filled with determination. Despite the overwhelming odds stacked against you, he was determined to stand by your side and offer whatever support he could muster. Yet, despite his pledge, he couldn't shake the gnawing sense of guilt that settled in the pit of his stomach.

Strike two, he thought to himself, he felt worse.

*

An hour before the wedding vows, Jeonghan was bustling about, greeting guests with a practiced smile plastered on his face. It was a skill he had honed in the days leading up to this momentous occasion. Amidst the sea of well-wishers, he excused himself briefly, informing the parents that he needed to see you for a moment.

Walking briskly to the room where you were seated, Jeonghan's heart skipped a beat as he pushed the door open. To his surprise, he found Seungcheol engaged in conversation with you. Pausing at the threshold, he hesitated, unwilling to intrude on the private moment.

"Your father thought I was the groom," Seungcheol's voice carried a hint of determination, breaking the tense silence that hung in the air.

"Let's not talk about that," you responded softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you stood before him in your wedding dress. The weight of the impending ceremony seemed to hang heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the room as you prepared to walk down the aisle with your father.

Jeonghan stood rooted to the spot, his heart heavy with a mixture of emotions. Despite his efforts to maintain composure, a pang of insecurity gnawed at him as he observed the exchange between you and Seungcheol.

"Your father, he thought I was the groom! What's going on here, Y/n? Tell me!" Seungcheol's voice rose with frustration as he grabbed your arm, his tone demanding answers. Jeonghan, on the verge of intervening, paused at the threshold, uncertain of his next move.

Before he could react, however, he watched in astonishment as you swiftly maneuvered out of Seungcheol's grasp. In a moment of unexpected boldness, you raised your hand and delivered a resounding slap across Seungcheol's face. Jeonghan gasped, instinctively covering his mouth in shock at the sudden turn of events.

"Stop being an asshole and fucking grow up!" you admonished, your voice laced with a mix of anger and hurt. "You left me crumbled that time, and you didn't even reach out to me until two months ago. So stop, Seungcheol. Just stop it!"

The room fell into stunned silence as the weight of your words hung heavy in the air. Jeonghan watched in awe as you stood your ground, refusing to be intimidated or manipulated any longer. In that moment, you were a force to be reckoned with, asserting your independence and reclaiming your power.

Seungcheol recoiled from the force of your slap, his hand instinctively rising to his cheek as he processed your words. There was a flicker of remorse in his eyes, a realization dawning on him as he confronted the consequences of his actions. As the tension in the room lingered, Jeonghan felt a surge of admiration for you, marveling at your strength and resilience in the face of adversity.

"Do you love him?" Seungcheol's question hung in the air, the tension palpable as everyone awaited your response. Jeonghan's heart pinched at the mere thought of your answer, his emotions swirling with a mix of apprehension and longing.

"No," you replied firmly, your voice unwavering despite the weight of the question.

Jeonghan's breath caught in his throat, a pang of hope blossoming in his chest at your words. Yet, even as relief washed over him, he couldn't shake the ache of uncertainty that lingered within him.

"Then why did you choose him?" Seungcheol pressed, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

Your response was simple yet profound, cutting through the tension like a knife. "Because," you began, your voice steady as you met Seungcheol's gaze, "he never left me."

As the weight of your words settled over the room, Jeonghan felt a surge of emotion welling up within him. Jeonghan's heart swelled with a profound sense of gratitude and determination.

As Seungcheol stepped out of the room, Jeonghan immediately retreated into the shadows, concealing himself until the coast was clear. Then, with a mischievous smirk and a round of applause, he made his grand entrance, acknowledging your earlier stunt with admiration.

"Revenge done, princess?" Jeonghan teased, his tone playful as he approached you.

You let out a heavy sigh, your hand still tingling from the force of the slap you had delivered to Seungcheol moments ago. "It's hurt," you admitted, showing him your reddened palm.

Jeonghan gently took your hand in his, blowing on it softly in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort. "That's the feeling of revenge, babe," he remarked with a smirk. "It's hurt, but satisfying."

Despite the pain in your hand, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you gazed into Jeonghan's eyes. There was a warmth in his touch, a reassurance that you were not alone in this battle. In that moment, you couldn't help but feel grateful for his unwavering support and understanding.

As you shared a lighthearted moment together, a flicker of doubt crossed Jeonghan's mind. Did he ever mention that you were the perfect suitor to be the wife of the Golden Group Vice President?

*

"Can I ask you a favor?" you ventured, your voice hesitant as you sat across from Jeonghan in his office two weeks before the wedding, discussing the contracts that needed to be finalized.

"Let me hear it first," Jeonghan replied, crossing his legs and leaning back on the couch, his eyes fixed intently on yours.

"It's about Seungcheol," you began, your words causing Jeonghan's brows to furrow in concern. The mention of his cousin seemed to strike a nerve, his expression darkening with an underlying tension.

Jeonghan's gaze bore into yours as he sought clarity. "You still love him?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of apprehension.

You shook your head vehemently, dismissing any notion of lingering affection. "That's not what I mean," you clarified. "Listen, I want revenge."

Jeonghan's features softened slightly as he processed your words, a glimmer of understanding dawning in his eyes. Despite his initial apprehension, he recognized the fire in your gaze, the determination to right the wrongs of the past.

Jeonghan's head tilted slightly, his curiosity piqued. "Revenge on Seungcheol?" he questioned, seeking confirmation from you. You nodded solemnly, steeling yourself for the task ahead.

"I need to know the details first," Jeonghan smirked, a hint of excitement dancing in his eyes. He had been itching to uncover the truth behind Seungcheol's actions, eager to unravel the mystery that had plagued your past.

A pregnant silence hung in the air as you gathered your thoughts, preparing to delve into the painful memories that still lingered within you. "He basically chose his career over me," you began, your voice tinged with bitterness as you recounted the events of two years ago.

As you spoke, Jeonghan leaned in closer, his gaze fixed intently on you as he listened with rapt attention. There was a hunger in his eyes, a desire to understand the depths of your pain and the reasons behind Seungcheol's betrayal.

"I just... don't understand why he suddenly has an obsession to lead his grandfather's company," you confessed, your voice tinged with frustration and confusion. "He changed into Seungcheol that I don't know. We argued for months, and he suddenly said that I was the reason his career was undeveloped. He broke off our engagement the next day and left me."

Jeonghan listened intently to your story, his eyes widening in disbelief at the revelation. Memories of his own strained relationship with Seungcheol flooded his mind, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. He recalled the pressure Seungcheol had faced from his parents to inherit the family business, and how their friendship had begun to drift apart as a result.

As you continued to recount the events that led to your breakup, Jeonghan couldn't help but feel a surge of empathy for you. It was clear that both of you had been unfairly blamed for Seungcheol's own insecurities and ambitions.

With a newfound determination, Jeonghan resolved to help you seek justice and closure. He understood now the depth of the pain you had endured, and he was more than willing to stand by your side as you embarked on this journey of revenge.

As you outlined your plan for revenge, Jeonghan couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for your resilience. Despite the pain and heartache you had endured, you refused to be a victim, instead choosing to take control of your own destiny. With a silent nod, Jeonghan signaled his agreement, ready to stand by your side as you embarked on this journey of retribution.

Revenge on Choi Seungcheol? He is happy to help.

[rapilne]

-Ice Cold

beomgyu x fem!reader

warnings: sub!beomgyu, sex (?) this contains smut, not proofread, MDNI, beomgyu pov-ish

a/n: no summary cause i couldn't tell you what this is about. this is my first time writing anything like this, i wrote it on my notes so im not sure how many words there are, i think too many, this is without a doubt too long, pls bear with me. also english is not my first language, if something doesn't make sense well idk figure it out pretty pls, thankssss 🫶

--

"she's my girlfriend," beomgyu said, his expression a mask of utter sincerity.

his words hung in the air, the silence filled with unspoken questions. 

yeonjun squinted at him, scrutinizing his face before glancing at taehyun then back at him. "so, you're saying… you have like a crush on her?"

an exasperated sigh escaped beomgyu. “what? no," he protested "i mean, yes? ” he closed his eyes and said slowly “no… it’s like i said it. she’s my girlfriend for real.”

the weight of his words hanged heavily and his friends remained speechless, drinks on their hands and stares like daggers. beomgyu shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do to stop them from looking at him like that.

"i just don't understand what's so surprising about it," he muttered, a pout forming on his lips.

—

choi beomgyu had always been the epitome of charisma. from his looks to his charm, whether he stepped into a crowded room or sauntered down a bustling street, all eyes gravitated toward him.

he was well-known and well-liked everywhere he went: university corridors, guitar lessons, basketball practice, even the corner store near his apartment. everyone is positively drawn in by his undeniable charm.

he likes to think he got that from his mother.

naturally, beomgyu thrives on the attention. the way people's faces lit up upon his arrival was a like drug he couldn't resist. 

specially when he is so used to getting his way. never in a malicious or manipulative way, it was jut that asking was usually all it took to always obtaining whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it.

so, all things considered, he'd never struggled to draw the attention of those he found attractive. one could almost say he had his pick of the litter.

that is the reason why setting his sights on you should be the most foolish thing beomgyu has ever done in his entire existence. and yet, there he was, unable to resist the pull.

from the first time he met you, in his advanced music business class, it was as though you existed in a world entirely apart from his own. not responding to any of his advances honestly threw him off but he tried to look past it attributing it to a fleeting lapse or perhaps an uncharacteristic bad mood on your part.

but after you acted the same way the next time he tried talking to you, and the next, and the next, he couldn’t help but take it personally. 

he soon realized it wasn't merely a matter of wounded ego. from the very first meeting, he had mustered his most charming smile just for you. after all, he thought you might just be the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his life, and after just a few classes, he realized you were also one of the smartest people he knew. everything about you seemed to get his attention, like you were the main character in a movie he couldn't take his eyes off of.

so, whyy you, out of everyone, had to be the one to give him the cold shoulder like that? why couldn’t he just like someone who liked him back?

either way, he soon came to find out thanks to his seat mate jun that your behavior was not uncommon.

he couldn't shake off the words his friend had offered in consolation: "don't sweat it, she's like that with pretty much everyone."

of course, in true beomgyu fashion, he couldn't help but sweat it. 

he did pick up on your vibe—not shy at all, like he thought at first, but definitely serious and reserved— but he wasn't accustomed to blending in with the crowd like that; being treated like “pretty much everyone” didn't sit right with him. 

"it's all so high school," jun chuckled, shaking his head. "but people actually call her the ice queen.”

now it seems like getting on your good side might be a task for the gods.

good thing he is known for always getting what he wants.

— 

taking a sip of boba should never be this unpleasant. except that time he ordered matcha when he meant taro, beomgyu's boba runs are always a particularly happy time. right now though, it isn’t going so well. especially when yeonjun goes "you’re fucking lying," for what must be the seven-hundredth time.

“i only lied when i told you that mesh shirt you’re wearing was a look.”

the older gasps, "take that back."

beomgyu then stands up and looks at the counter. there are only a couple of tapioca pearls left on his drink and he thinks he might ask for some more. are tapioca pearls refills allowed in this place? he doesn’t think they’re allowed anywhere, but he might as well ask.

throwing a pointed look at yeonjun—who still looks mildly offended—taehyun tries again. "when did that even happen, beomgyu?"

entirely unfazed, he stirs his drink lazily and sits back down. "i only have like two tapioca pearls left."

"he’s talking about boba because he’s lying." yeonjun scoffs and beomgyu thinks he might punch him any second now.

"look, I don’t know what’s so unbelievable about me and Y/N being together when-"

"Y/N and me," taehyun cuts him off.

"huh?"

taehyun takes a slow sip of his drink before explaining. "the correct way to say it is ‘Y/N and me,’ not ‘me and Y/N.’ though, technically, it depends on the context of the sentence. like, both are grammatically correct, but ‘Y/N and me’ is considered mo-"

"what on actual fucking earth are you talking about?" beomgyu stares at him

"i'm talking about the proper structure of-"

“that is literally not important!” yeonjun interrupts them both with a loud voice, “can we please stay on topic? why are you lying about y/n being your girlfriend beomgyu?”

beomgyu glares at yeonjun, throwing his straw to the trashcan right next to them. they came in quite late to the boba shop and didn’t get the best table.

“for the millionth time, yeonjun, i’m not lying!” he says with wide eyes. “what is it that you want? i can call her right now, put her on speaker and asker to tell you how much she likes me, yeah?”

yeonjun narrows his eyes at him, suspicious. “do it.”

“you’re fucking kidding me-“ 

the door chimes and the older’s attention is momentarily taken by the sound. beomgyu takes advantage of it and quickly sizes yeonjun's cup only to realize his mistake too late and have the matcha flavor assaulting his taste buds.

he chokes back a gag and it’s impossible for taehyun to not roll his eyes. he appears to be the only one inmune to beomgyu’s charm, consequences of their close friendship.

yeonjun’s laughter fills the air once he realizes what happened. “that’s what you get,“ he says.

“how can you drink that?”

“matcha is tasty,” yeonjun shrugs.

“matcha is a gross,” beomgyu retorts, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

“the way you are just unwilling to talk about it makes me think that yeonjun might be onto something,” taehyun looks up at him propping his chin on his hand.

“why would i lie about me being in a relationship with someone?”

“that's what we want to know stupid," yeonjun says mockingly. "actually, why do you do half the thing you do?”

“yeonjun stop,” taehyun he says and then looks at this other friend, “beomgyu, it is not really about you being in a relationship. it is about with who.”

“what’s is wrong with y/n?” he asks with a pout on his lips.

“oh nothing,” yeonjun scoffs. “except everyone says she is quite literally a bi-“

"watch it, yeonjun,.” beomgyu cuts him off coldly with a hint of seriousness in his tone that wasn’t there before

yeonjun raises his eyebrows, frankly surprised "i was just going to say she's quite literally a big fan of not making friends,” he finishes instead, eyes wide.

taehyun intervenes swiftly, sensing the tension rising. "beomgyu," he began way softer that the other two, "i'm not doubting your feelings, but we kind of know y/n's reputation. she's known for being... distant, self-centered even. i just don't want to see you get hurt because you're too trusting."

taehyun's words struck a chord with beomgyu, but before he could respond, yeonjun chimed in, his voice filled with remorse. "he's right, gyu," he admits, a hint of regret on his tone. “and i'm sorry about before. but still, you need to be careful. y/n... people have tried to get close to her before, and it hasn't gone well."

beomgyu's heart sank at yeonjun's words with the weight of their implications settling heavily on him.

"look," he begins, "y/n is different, okay? she's not like anyone else i've ever met. and maybe i haven't been completely open about it because... because i know how you guys get. but i mean it when i say i’ve known her like other people haven’t. she is amazing”

there's a pause as beomgyu searches for the right words," she's nothing like that ‘ice queen’ corny, nonsense everyone is always talking about. I just wish you guys would give her a chance."

as the trio leave the place, beomgyu sips on his refilled boba. turns out they definitely don’t do refills, but of course the staff made an exception. “just for you,” they’d said.

he even got a new straw.

—

“and that’s my problem how?” you ask with straight expression.

the girl in front of you stumbles over her words, her voice quivering as she tries to play it off with a quiet laugh. "i-i’m not saying it's your problem," she began cautiously. "but, like, your signature could totally convince mr. yang to extend the due date. if we all get on board, he'd have to at least consider it. please?”

"no," you reply.

“what?" she blinks, caught off guard. "i mean, i’m sorry?" 

leaning back, taking a sip of your iced coffee, you return your gaze to your book. “you’re good,” you say in an almost nonchalant tone. "i’d just rather not be disturbed while i’m reading.”

"i'm not apologizing to you!" she snaps before taking a deep breath. "i just—why not? it literally doesn’t hurt you at all to sign? we really need your help y/n. it will even give you more time to finish your own stuff.”

"already finished it,” you say, not even making eye contact.

she lets out a surprised squeak, but recovers quickly.

"well, i guess that's cool for you," she mutters. " but we really need your signature or mr. yang won't even look at the petition.” 

nothing from your part.

mr. yang was a no-nonsense professor who smelled of tobacco and liked to look at everyone over his glasses as to remind you he is much more smarter than you. he hands out tough tasks, but always provides the necessary materials to complete them. though you weren't his favorite student, and he certainly wasn't your favorite teacher, you excelled in his class, meeting his high expectations. but you worked hard to get things done.

"look,” she tries one more time, “i know you're really smart, but some of us are really… struggling.“ she sighs sadly. ”it's taking forever to get through the text he sent, you know? if we all, like, come together and help each other out, we could totally make it happen. team effort. what do you say?"

once again she was met with silence.

"y/n?"

anna, the heroine in your book, seems genuinely tormented and you’re really starting to feel bad for her. if only she didn’t chose the red door. the blue door was the obvious right choice, but she decided to be adventurous. now, she will probably die. can vampires die? of course they can, you remember. for example, in twilight, you have to cut them in little pieces and-

"hello?! earth to y/n?" you hear a loud voice in front of your face.

you glance up. right, the ‘help us change the due date’ girl from your class. can’t really say you remember her name. 

“you're still here?" you ask flatly. can people get any more annoying? 

"oh my god, seriously?!" she practically yells this time. "i can't believe you're such a bitch!"

suddenly, and before things could escalate further, beomgyu steps in, appearing from around the hallway "whoa, why are we yelling" he asks, his guitar hanging on his shoulder. “what's going on?”

he could hear the shouting from a distance, but the details were lost to him.

on the other hand, you think beomgyu looks exceptionally good today. his dark, long hair framing his beautiful face, and eyes so deep and brown, pouty lips, you can not wait to get him alone…

"hey, beomie," you greet him with a smile. "nothing much. ready to leave?"

you've been waiting for him to finish his composition class. your own class got cut short, and you were ready to head home, but beomgyu insisted on spending the rest of the day with you, asking if you could wait for his class to end.

there's someone you can't say no to, and that's choi beomgyu, you've come to realize.

without waiting for an answer, you toss your book into your bag, grab your iced coffee, and take his hand, leading him towards the exit. your classmate watches you with wide eyes, speechless with incredulity. beomgyu glances back a little confused, offering her an apologetic smile and a quick wave as if to to smooth things over.

once outside, hand in hand, beomgyu asks carefully, "what was that?"

"oh, nothing at all,” you brush it off.

"she seemed mad," he remarks, and you stop in your tracks, making him stumble a little.

"did she? i didn't notice," you say, teasingly. "but i did notice i haven't kissed you yet."

with a playful glint in your eyes, you reach up and gently pull him down by the collar of his shirt, closing the distance between you as your lips meet in a slow, lingering kiss. beomgyu sighs contentedly, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer.

"you're the sweetest," he whispers against your lips, screaming girls all forgotten.

—

“look at this video i took on saturday,” hao leans over the table to show a clip to beomgyu as they sit with a couple of his classmates at the uni cafe. beomgyu recognizes the place on the video as the han river, and the performers on the clip as a dance team yeonjun showed him before.

“oh, i know them!” he says with a big smile, “they’re sooo good. don’t you think they should be like performing on music videos or something?”

“they should,” hao agrees. “i’ve seen them on tiktok though, and they’re making really big numbers.”

“oh shit, yeah, me too! i keep telling y/n to come with me to see them whenever yeonjun tells me they have a showcase.”

this caught the attention of gina, a girl from his music production class “i’m sorry, but i still can't believe you're with her, gyu.” she remarks shaking his head incredulously. 

beomgyu looks up from his phone to give her a questioning look, “what?”

“ah, she’s right” hyunjin says next to them through bites of his ham sandwich, "i mean, she's smoking hot, but she's also a total ice queen."

beomgyu rolls his eyes. "not the high school nicknaming, please” he says irritated “she is not an ice anything, you calling her that is cringe. and i’ll have you know she is really sweet, actually.”

"sweet? seriously, beomgyu?" hyejin chimed in, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "every time i've tried talking to her, she acts like i don't even exist."

“sh-“

"yeah, and remember when she snapped at mark for accidentally bumping into her? it was like she thought she was too good to even say sorry."

“but-“ 

"and what about that time she ignored seungmin’s text asking for help with the assignment? she could have at least replied!”

beomgyu's heart sank as he listened to his friends.

“remember last week? what she did to lila? the stuff with the signatures? honestly, she is such a bitch sometimes…”

before beomgyu could respond, you happened to walk past their table, expression colder than usual. hearing only part of the conversation and misinterpreting it, you shot beomgyu a hurt look, assuming he was trash talking you, and quickly walked away without a word.

"great, now she thinks we're all talking behind her back," gina mutters with her eyes flicking nervously toward you as you walk off.

beomgyu stands up abruptly, “you know what? that’s exactly why she doesn’t get close to any of you,” he says, voice low but firm. “you all love to run your mouths, but when it comes down to it, you can’t even look at her in the eyes. don’t talk about her like that again. if i hear it once more, i swear i won’t just walk away.”

glaring at all of them, he turns sharply, striding out of the café without a word. outside, he quickens his pace, determined to catch up to you and make things right before it's too late.

—

the doorbell rings incessantly, echoing through the hallway as beomgyu refuses to give up. he followed you from the school building to your apartment, his apologies relentless, his determination evident in every step, but despite his efforts, you continued to ignore him.

now in front of your door, beomgyu knows he's pushing it, but the thought of you hating him now drives him crazy. with each ring of the doorbell, he feels a surge of desperation, making him want to rip all his hair out. 

ringing the bell and knocking on the door with urgency, he's fully aware that he's risking disturbing the neighbors, they may even call the police.

but beomgyu will risk going to jail for you, he thinks.

the door suddenly swings open with a sharp smack, and you're finally standing there "knock it off!" you yell with frustration evident in your voice.

despite you glaring at him, he’s just glad to see your face.

"i'm sorry," beomgyu blurts out, his words coming out in a rush. “but i am sorry you had to listen to that, not sorry because i was agreeing with them or anything, because i didn’t. i swear i didn’t. i was actually telling them how amazing and sweet you are- i always do, you know that. they’re not even my friends anymore! i ended things with them i let them know- oh fuck, i always talk about how perfect you are, how you’re the best person i’ve ever met in my life, and i'm just-god, i’m just so lucky to have you! you don’t understand, i need you to know that! i love you more than anything, and i don’t care what anyone else says, i don’t care what they think because you’ve always been nothing but good to me, and i’m not gonna let them make you think otherwise"

his words spill out in a jumbled mess, but the sincerity in his voice is unmistakable.

you stare at beomgyu, your expression neutral, as his words hang in the air between you. his eyes search yours desperately and, for a moment, he thinks he might have finally pushed you too far, that his rambling confession may have been a mistake.

but then, without warning, you break the tension with two simple words. "come in," you say.

relief floods beomgyu's features as he exhales a shaky breath, the weight lifting from his shoulders. without hesitation, he steps through the doorway, the sound of the door clicking shut behind him.

—

an hour or two passed and now beomgyu is sitting right in front of you, in your bed, with red cheeks in anticipation. 

“beomie, do you think i’m a bitch?” you ask with a teasing pout on your lips.

“no! no, no, no i don’t” he responds, looking up at you with puppy eyes, long lashes and a slight frown on his face

“correct,” you concede, putting his hair behind his ear softly “you were dying for me to even look at you, beomie, so i did. how can i be a bitch when i give all you the attention you so desperately beg from me?”

beomgyu exhales, clearing his throat to prevent himself for making any noise. you look down at him, his dark hair, indolent eyes and pouting lips. so pretty, just for you.

“answer me.” 

“you’re not, you are so good to me, you’re always so good to me.” he whines, but somehow his voice gets lower. aching to touch you, but keeping his hands on his side, just like he was told.

"that's right" you move down, slowly positioning yourself to straddle his lap. he feels the heat of your body against him, every movement making him burn with anticipation “i’m so good to you…” you concede as you tap him to lift his hips and reach out with confident fingers taking his pants off. you pause halfway, though. a teasing smirk playing on your lips. "but, do you deserve it, beomie?" you ask, your tone laced with mock concern.

beomgyu's breath escapes him in rapid bursts, too stunned to speak, but he knows better than not to answer you.

“no..” he chockes out “i don’t deserve it, don’t deserve you.”

“you’re right, you don’t deserve any of it,” you remind him, “good thing i’m so wonderful and sweet right?” you mock as you shove the rest of his pants down and underwear down in a quick motion. 

his cock comes up against his stomach, twitchy and veiny and your mouth is watering at the sight in front of you, wanting nothing more than for him to cum down your throat. but today is not the day.

beomgyu chews down hard on his lip and closes his eyes at the feeling of you liberating his length. he’s always been too sensitive, but with you he feels like it’s always the first time.

“open your eyes, beomie,” you tell him. “i want you to see and remember what you have to be grateful for.”

he opens his eyes in an instant just for him to watch you kneel down and slowly wrap your mouth around his tip. he sucks in a a hiss and let’s out a groan when you draw your lips with a light pressure down his cock until he hits the back of your throat, only to come back up and leave a trail of saliva along the way.

“fuuck,” he lets out with a trembling breath. “oh my god”

you put him on your mouth again and swirl your tongue around him, he hits the start of your throat once again and slide up and down, up and down. you wrapped your lips around his tip one more time before running the flat of your tongue up his cock slowly as you stare directly into his eyes,

beomgyu is a mess of flushed skin and teary eyes and can’t stop whimpering at the feeling and sight of you using your mouth on him, he swallows, throat dry and bites his bottom lip to prevent him from spluttering nonsense.

“i don- don’t know if i can- fuuuck- i- i can’t.. can’t hold it, fuck y/n , you’re so- so good to me-“ 

with his hands on your hair loosing himself to the feeling of your mouth on him, you can’t help but moan on his cock as you can already taste his pre-cum on your tongue, threatening to spill past your lips. you take you mouth off of him. “beomie, don’t cum yet-“ you say between licks, before spitting on him, lubricating and using your hand instead “- baby, hold it in, not yet.”

“i- i can’t, i can’t” he cries and you stop, his chest going up and down aggressively before lifting his face to look at you. lips red and shinny from biting hard and cheeks rosy from all the pleasure. you think he has never look this pretty.

he sits up trembling, looking at you you slide your drenched panties off. then you straddle his lap once again, looking at his red erection up and proud, tip right at your entrance, and without any warning, you take his cock in your hand go down on him inch by inch, his arms coming around your torso in desperation as you hold yourself up wrapping yours around his neck, holding each other so close you could feel eachother’s heartbeat.

you completely sink down on him and you both gasp, automatically making you clench around him.

“fuuck, baby” beomgyu hissed. his hands coming down to your waist to keep you in place, he’s afraid he would cum in a second if you moved an inch. “don’t move, please”

so, you raised your hips and you both let out a breathy moan as you sat back down again. he whines.

“you can do it beomie, hold it baby” you purr in his mouth. repeating the action again and again. “don’t you want me to fuck you?” 

“ye- yes please,- fuuuck yes” he cries, holding you close. always eager to please, he lets you do as you want. obeying you just in time for him to become a whimpering mess.

it was embarrassing, really, how affected he got in literal seconds. and you, with the sensation of having his cock filling you up, couldn’t help but use him like a toy.

“good boy,” you sing softly, breath hitching. “good, good boy. i knew you would let me use you like this. kne- knew you would like to make me happy. right beomie? because you love me? you want to- oh my god” you whine, bouncing up and down on him with urgency, felling him thus up to meet you halfway. “you want to make me feel good”

beomgyu feels like fire inside you, feeling you squeezing him so tight he feels himself closer and closer. he takes his hand from your waist to massage your breasts, knowing how sensitive your nipples are, making you sigh, earning him a kiss so lewd he’ll dream about it. “yes, thank you, please,” he cries, “i want- i want-“

“you can’t even talk beomie!” you chuckle dryly, “wh-what would your friends say if they saw you like this? huh?” you whispered on his mouth, the feeling so good its sending your blood rushing to your head as you keep fucking him stupid.

“their proud, confident beomgyu is just- fuck” you gasp at the feeling of his lips closing around your nipple, ”just a dirty slut? huh” you throw your head back to give him more access as you continue to bounce on his cock “ a begging little whore is what you are beomie”

he feels himself closer and closer, your dirty talking sending him over the edges he pleads, “just for you, i swear is just for you, i love you”

“good boy” you panted on his mouth again, feeling the sensation of your orgasm looming over your body and beomgyu was hit with the staggering force of his release as he came inside you, calling out your name in pleading gasps.

you blinked almost sleepily, looking down at your boyfriend and his post-fuck look, a small smile on his face as you leaned down to place a little kiss on his nose.

“love you too, pup.” you sighed.

—

not matcha, but not taro, either.

beomgyu feels like trying something new as he looks at the menu. the scent of sweet tapioca and freshly brewed tea surrounds you two and he thinks this is exactly what dreams are made of, yet deciding on just the right drink feels like an impossible task right this second.

so he scans the menu, his eyes flickering between the various options. yeonjun said their new horchata drink was good, but he doesn’t trust yeonjun’s taste.

“do you know what you’re ordering?” he asks you with big, round eyes. 

you can't help but notice how his eyes resemble tapioca pearls – "just iced coffee," you reply with a hint of amusement.

“right,” beomgyu chuckles, realizing he should have guessed as much.

suddenly, the girl behind the counter approaches you, her bright smile matching the cheery vibe of the boba shop. "hi there! can i help you?" she chirps.

beomgyu's attention shifts to her, “oh! yes yes, just a second” he responds, his eyes scanning the menu once more.

"well, our special today is the pina colada boba blast," the girl continues with a playful tone "it's sweet, refreshing, and i guarantee you it will leave you wanting more!”

beomgyu looks up, and before he could respond, you step forward, "we'll figure it out ourselves, thanks," you say curtly.

the girl's smile falters slightly. "o-okay, let me know if you need any help," she mumbles, retreating to the safety of the register.

"come on, babe, she was just doing her job," beomgyu says, chuckling a little and reaching for your hand. "but i think is time for me to finally admit… there's something kind of hot about you being mean."

you rolled your r eyes, but a small smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. you figured that much way before he did “i’m not being mean, beomie,” you still say, feigning ignorance “i truly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

beomgyu grins, feeling a surge of affection for the girl by his side. as they placed their order and settled into a cozy corner of the boba shop, he couldn't help but think how happy he was to have you, even if you did have a bit of a mean streak.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

What would you say are Silver's biggest flaws? 

I know that, like with the other characters in TWST, he has more nuance than what he at first seems; I've gradually become a big Silver fan ever since he got more focus on book 7, but I feel that I still don't have a good enough grasp of his character to fully talk about him without unintentionally simplifying him to his most known traits. Because when Silver comes up in conversation, most people tend to talk about the more positive aspects of his character, when even Kalim-who is considered another of the more amicable students/characters in the main cast and in-universe-has had his flaws talked about in more depth by fans and meta writers than Silver has. To me his most noticeable flaw is that he tends to blame himself or feel responsible for things that, as far as I could tell, were beyond his control and that there wasn't much more he could do about it, but I feel that there might be more than just that.

I’d say that Silver’s lack of self-worth and overdedication are his most significant flaws. (I’ve discussed the topic at length in this post, so please give that a read, as I will not be repeating myself here.) Some other notable shortcomings include, but are not limited to: being dense/air-headed (which impairs his relationships with peers), limited capacity to think beyond the literal or in relation to combat (he comments that the heels on boots can be used as weapons on a pinch and, when prompted by Vil to think of a beautiful thing, Silver replied “you, Vil.”), tendency to blame himself for issues caused by his sleeping curse, and having difficulty emoting (which leads to misunderstandings with peers).

I think the issue with discussing Silver’s flaws is that people often attribute most of his traits as being positive without realizing how truly bad too much of a good thing can be. For example, Silver is “diligent”, which is usually positive—bur Silver is so “diligent” to the point where he constantly apologizes for things out of his control, adopts extreme methods in an attempt to stay awake, and beats himself up for not being able to meet certain arbitrary expectations he set up for himself, which is negative. I also think another issue is that many players don’t read book 7 (which is where Silver gets his deepest characterization) because they get stuck on the increasingly difficult battles in late book 6. On the other hand, books 4 and 5 are very manageable (and so you’ll have more exposure to Kalim and his shortcomings, but not necessarily Silver’s).

Before I close off 💦 I’d like to gently remind you (and honestly anyone else reading this!) that you’re allowed to “fully talk” about whatever characters you want 🙂‍↕️ You’re bringing up the topic, which already demonstrates an interest in having a discussion about it. If you had never mentioned it at all, then this talk would never be happening and no progress would be made.

Who cares if you “unintentionally simplify” a character to their “most known traits”? Can’t that theoretically be a good thing since you’d be explaining the character in an easy-to-understand manner for others to use as a basis for their opinions? And even if the interpretation you give is the complete opposite of the character in canon, what’s the problem? There is still value and merit in an inaccurate works. It can teach people what they don’t believe is true, which is still useful to know. My point is, there is no right or wrong way to discuss characters and you should “fully talk” as you wish. It’s not like ONLY certain fandom authorities or “accredited” fans are “allowed” to talk about certain things 😭 Don’t be afraid to start the discussion yourself!

[skay-ali]

The Forgotten Daughter

A slightly slow plot but I prefer it that way, that the obsessed characters appear little by little

Chapter 2

Damian Wayne... he was an enigmatic child for you.

The truth is that you still don't understand how you managed to get along with the boy, his curt, unfriendly and arrogant personality was difficult to deal with, if not impossible.

After his first visit you didn't expect to see him again, his upset face with a curt goodbye was the last thing you expected to see from the boy, not receiving another visit from him a few days later.

You would be lying if you said that your life became more miserable with the child, even with his witty hurtful comments they made you smile, perhaps because you did not take the child's words seriously, because you did not feel familiar with him, or because after being bothered he an adorable scene with your baby that took away his threatening appearance.

You compared him to a chihuahua, those adorable little dogs that tried to look brave and like a big threat, but they were just adorable little creatures.

You also attributed your great attitude towards the child's visits in large part to the fact that you had matured, you were already a responsible adult with a daughter who sweetened your life even more, you became one of those television mothers who was positive, above all, wearing a big smile with an air of friendliness.

“Because you smile like a fool,” the boy commented, annoyed when he saw the attitude his sister was wearing.

You snapped out of your thoughts and paid attention to your surroundings again.

“Ahhh.. it's just that you two look so adorable playing around” you defended yourself.

In a way it was true, seeing the child sitting on a puzzle-style rug that you put together in the living room, playing with some baby toys, with your little daughter, while the little girl tried to play with the child and moved her hands with excitement, It was something that warmed your heart.

You received a displeased grimace from Damian at your words, he stopped paying attention to you and looked back at Alice.

“Hey, don't bother about that, if you keep making faces you'll get old.”

“I'm not the one who should worry about getting old you know” the boy responded, but this time without paying much attention to you.

“Am I getting older, can I tell?” You worried about his words, it was a valid worry, at least for you.

This time you did not receive any attention, neither from the child, nor from your baby, great, now I will exchange you for that bad excuse of a refined child, you noticed his taste for being from a wealthy family, something that you never liked very much, although Having money and having no limit to spend it was fantastic, having many gossip about your life, seeing how luxury and money controlled people, the carelessness of some parents and others who put pressure on their children to make them their perfect puppets, no. It was something very nice.

“Well men still flirt with me, so I guess I shouldn't worry about my appearance until they stop” you joked, you were going to leave aside the fact that you were getting older with each passing day, month and year, forget that Time was still ticking for almost everyone in the world, worrying about it was stupid and a martyrdom, it caused nothing but depressive and anxious feelings.

“Who went and where?” The boy got up from the ground in a hurry and faced you.

Damian got upset when he heard that, dogs trying to seduce you for their dirty desires, he wouldn't allow it, that would affect his little niece, if his niece, it's not that he cared about you, that's clear, although you were kind to him and You treated him like a member of your family, he didn't feel anything for you…. TRUE? You were just a woman who shared blood with him, his sister, he wasn't going to admit it.

“Uggg, you sound like a protective father” you made a disgusted face.

“That your useless husband wasn't taking care of you” he ignored your mockery and continued with his interrogation.

“whaaat?” His words surprised you “Haha, I'm married, I think you hit your head.”

“What about that man who was at your house when I met you?” he asked you again, this time you could see that his calm temperament changed to an aggressive one.

“The man we had dinner with?” Damian nodded “yes that man, Alice's father?”

"Hahaha he's not Alice's father, where did you get that idea from?"

The boy didn't answer you, he just looked at you questioningly, waiting for you to continue talking.

“That man you met was Nick, Alice's godfather,” you explained, “and as for this little girl's father, he is not part of our lives.”

.

Thanksgiving was a very lively date in your home, your friends visited your house and had a delicious dinner, it was one of those days where the whole house became full of life and there was laughter in every corner, there were small arguments, but They all revolved around who gained little Alice's favor. Although she reacted well to Damian's company, she was not the same with your friends. It means that the little baby develops a demanding side with the people around her except for her family.

Today your younger brother did not attend the party, even though you invited him, it was something you expected, unfortunately, he had a family to celebrate with, his father and brothers, you assume, in his conversations he never mentioned his mother, so you assume that she It was not listed in its current home.

The surprise was pleasant, when you found the child visiting you in the early morning of the new day, although you wanted to sleep, seeing the child visiting you so late at your invitation, you suppose, warmed your heart and you accepted that the child came in. your house.

The nagging doubt of how it was possible for him to come from so far away in the middle of the night unaccompanied to your house was in your head, naaa... you would let him get away with it, he is not your son after all, and knowing the story familiar, Damian is also supposed to play superheroes like the others.

You watched as Damián devoured the food left over from the party, for some reason he decided to go out to the balcony of the house to eat and you followed him so as not to leave him alone. Yes, you were saying goodbye to the food you planned to eat the following week. At least you could save breakfast by reheating the little leftovers.

“You know you look like dad” you said looking at the child, maybe it was the dream or the silent atmosphere, between you and the child, but seeing him made you a little nostalgic.

It's funny, because even though that man never did a well-deserved action to receive such a title, you still called him your father, you hated yourself for that, you wanted to stop being stuck in a place where you were still deep inside yourself expecting something from your paternal family.

Dad... oh dad, why did you never give me such an opportunity to call you that, that man, even without effort or interest in your life, took an undeserved title.

You realized that the boy had stopped eating, to pay attention to you and your words. He didn't say anything which is a surprise, given his defensive attitude every time they spoke.

“Don't look at me like that, it's true... you look like him in many ways” you looked Damián in the eyes, you were lying with your head on the bars of the balcony without wanting to move it, with a face empty of emotions.

“I remember seeing him eat just the way you do, I never forget it, him eating with a stoic face and an air of superiority surrounding him, as if he were royalty” you did not move your eyes, always on a fixed point, observing the child who He was the exact copy of the first man who broke your heart “They are the same when eating, even if you don't believe it.”

Do you remember well when you would sneak out of your room or the kitchen where you spent your time with Alfred, just to see your father for a moment, there was something that stopped you from facing the man, sometimes he looked very tired, he was talking on the phone or someone She accompanied him at his dinner, like the women who visited the mansion with Bruce and stayed the night with him.

“Your appearance also reveals you as his son, after all you are his spitting image” you finished your ramblings, you looked away from the boy, it was better not to say anything else to him, you didn't want to bother him anymore, if he took your words the wrong way. You blame your lack of sleep for causing an impending disaster.

You'd better concentrate on observing the dark landscape full of lights that the balcony offers.

“You look like Bruce too,” Damian comments as he composes himself after being surprised by your words.

"..." You were left speechless by his sentence, how come you two looked alike and never noticed it? They had to change what made them similar to their father or treasure it with all their hearts.

You waited to hear the boy as you climbed onto the bars of the balcony and sat down, needing to clear your mind of the next words that would come out of the boy's mouth.

“You and Bruce… you are not careful in your romantic adventures and you end up with unexpected children,” he said without mincing words.

“Ahhh how embarrassing you don't say that” you tried to hide your face from the child's sight, you didn't expect him to digest something similar.

You laughed a little at what he said, in a way it was true, you didn't see it, but Damián also smiled when he saw your reaction and your smile, you didn't get angry or say anything bad against him because of his words.

He followed your steps and also sat on the bars of the balcony.

Although the adrenaline surged through your body from hanging at a high altitude above the ground, you left your worries behind and enjoyed the moment. You still kept your hands on the bars, to avoid incidents.

“Yeah, I'm sorry if what sounded bad before, the truth is that seeing you here makes me happy, I've never done something like that with dad and seeing you doesn't… wakes up emotions in me” you apologized, although the words you said were unintentional. you threw at him, you know very well that they had a bit of resentment in them.

“You are... you are the family I never had.”

Oh how stupid you were to say that, if only you knew that that closed your destiny, if you knew that by saying that, the boy whom you just started to consider a brother would see you as a valuable person in his life that he would not have the luxury of losing. , using methods at any cost to have his sister and niece by his side.

.

In another place very far from your house and the family scene you had.

Another great scene broke out, all because the "eldest" of the Wayne children went to look for his younger brother after their family dinner, but when he got to his room he noticed his absence.

This worried him, even more so knowing that he wasn't even sneaking around the city in his vigilante form.

Where had the little demon of the family gone? He scanned the boy's room, trying to find a clue to his whereabouts.

Even though he meticulously searched the entire large room, he found nothing, and about to give up, a book caught his attention.

An art book, it was rare that Damian left something visible, Dick took the moment to review his brother's art, upon seeing his few projects before he noticed that he had great talent.

He scanned the pages slowly, capturing every detail of the drawings and paintings, his brother was undoubtedly talented, but there was something, some leaves in particular, that stopped him from thinking about them.

A woman was drawn on it, a woman that he vaguely remembered, she was very familiar, but no matter how much he searched his memory he couldn't remember who she was.

When he was finally able to change the page, he noticed that all the other pages contained more drawings of the woman, or of a baby.

He took a photo of the drawings, something told him that this woman was important, he had to remember who she was.

It's time to add more characters, the good thing is that we already have a yandere.

Reader never specified that it was the paternal family that she never had, because although with Damian now they are more like brothers, she had her friends and her mother as family, may she rest in peace.

tag list: @kore-of-the-underworld @vanessa-boo @jsprien213 @delias-stuff @vanilliona @bat1212 @yanrandom @Quiarst @palabra de niño salvaje @el termino @leo227 @sirenethblog

[batfambyval]

okay. So.

Serious Red Robin theory coming.

Tim wasn’t put in the Lazarus Pit. But. That doesn’t mean they didn’t use it on him. The pit’s healing properties have been shown to work in small portions. Like, the healing is proportional to the amount of lw used.

The cave with the pit isn’t exactly a sterile environment. So either the pit was needed or it was an attempt to put Tim off balance, a psychological weapon. Though the White Ghost’s reaction to the assumption seems to dispute that. If the pit’s healing is proportional to the amount used it makes sense that the psychological effects are to, along with the duration of those side effects.

Ra’s had serious reasons to use the pit on Tim, between the additional room for emotional manipulation and Tim’s life threatening injury which wasn’t immediately treated and was in fact exacerbated like, a lot… yeah. Tim lost a lot of blood. He lost was stabbed in the organ that filters blood: meaning all your blood passes through your spleen. He was bleeding out, he should have died, he dragged himself and another person to a car, drove said car back to the city, and got them both up to the penthouse. Recovering from that would take a long time, he shouldn’t have survived at all. But he healed quickly and well, it isn’t an issue, it happened and it was over. I know we as a fandom like to have fun with Tim’s missing spleen and what that means but… canon didn’t and looking back I feel like there was a lot pointing at the pit being used in a much more insidious was, not just in the logistics of Tim’s recovery.

Ra’s was insanely trusting of Tim. Not just in his ability to do what he wanted but in his belief that Tim would ultimately come around to his way of thinking. Now, I can obviously see that Tim was in a very vulnerable position and if Bruce hadn’t actually been alive Ra’s could definitely have succeeded. But it feels like more than that, especially with Tim’s ensuing behavior. A lot of his time with the league is glossed over or seen from Tam’s perspective, but Tim was acting different. It’s easy to attribute this to the objectively terrible situation and the year he’s had, but his behavior isn’t the same as it was at the beginning of the run either. And the difference in behavior fades. As Red Robin Tim is more ruthless and pragmatic, mostly due to necessity. Even stealing from a museum and fighting for it makes him incredibly uncomfortable. He still did it. But he was still acting like Tim, making jokes and doing his best to diffuse the situation and keep everyone alive. After the surgery his focus gets even more single minded. He barely puts up a fight about leading the league. Of course partly for Tam, and he tried to keep killing to a minimum but cmon. He was leading the league of ASSASSINS. There were assassinations happening. People died when he blew all the league bases and he barely registered that beyond thinking that the council of spiders probably made it out, implying part of him knew death was a possibility and he didn’t care. But he didn’t think about the moral implications of that in a way that was very reminiscent of Jason’s selective morality. If he had stopped to think about it he wouldn’t have done it, but he was focused to much on beating Ra’s, on not compromising, that the complexity of the situation didn’t sink in. The obvious effects of his actions, the possible deaths and injuries of anyone inside a league stronghold wasn’t acknowledged while the underlying message sent to his opponent was the only thing he could think about. Just like when Jason attacked Tim at Titans Tower to send a message to Bruce despite his hardline stance against hurting kids.

So. The League did use the pit on Tim, just a little. Maybe two tablespoons in the wound to accelerate recovery and weaken his morals a bit. It would certainly make a lot of sense. And the writer did change when Tim came back to Gotham so it’s entirely possible that it was meant to be touched on later but was discarded.

[saphronethaleph]

Filing a P-90

“Young man, a few moments of your time?”

CT-0102 looked up, confused.

“...how so?” the trooper asked. “You’re, uh, if you want to talk, you can just talk. If you have orders, go ahead and give them. Ma’am.”

“I’d rather not force you to discuss something,” the elderly woman said, by way of explanation. “I was wondering if you had a perspective on… weapons.”

“Weapons,” 102 repeated. “I guess… I’ve been trained with them? Using weapons is my job, I mean? Does that count as an opinion?”

“It might,” the old woman said. “But I meant more the philosophy of why a weapon exists.”

She shrugged, one hand resting for a moment on a long box by her side. “And, in particular, whether a weapon’s design tells us something about what it’s meant for.”

“This is getting dangerously philosophical, ma’am,” 102 admitted. “It’s above my pay grade.”

“It’s not above mine, I think,” the woman told him. “If you don’t want to talk, say so. I give you that permission, if you need it. But what I mean is that, for example… a lightsaber is a Jedi’s weapon, and that means that it’s a weapon of defence and of decisive attack. A lightsaber in trained hands is able to both protect others and to bring a quick end to any fight, and the respect it earns from those who see it can prevent a fight in the first place… a blaster, meanwhile, well, it depends on the blaster, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose that’s true, ma’am,” 102 admitted, glancing up for a moment as the turbulence around the ship increased – for a moment, at least.

There wasn’t anything he could do about it, so he just shrugged.

“A small pistol is intended to be concealed,” the woman went on. “It’s a weapon of self defence, but it’s also a weapon for committing an unexpected crime. While a larger, more powerful pistol, that’s a weapon of intimidation. It’s bulky enough to be difficult to conceal, and it’s less accurate than a long weapon, so it’s for both scare tactics and bringing a battle to a quick end. So does that mean it’s like a lightsaber?”

102 considered that.

“Our training covered how to handle most weapons, but it didn’t really address the cultural side of things,” he admitted. “We mostly focused on weapons for once a fight is inevitable.”

“Quite,” the woman agreed – 102 hadn’t actually got her name at any point. “The long rifle, which is designed for military efficiency on a battlefield. Harder to conceal in civilian life, almost impossible in fact, but it’s more effective than most weapons on a battlefield… at least, until you start dealing with either larger targets that they simply can’t damage, or more confined spaces where you want a shorter weapon. They share the attribute of being practical.”

She looked at his eyes, through the helmet. “Isn’t that interesting?”

“I guess,” 102 said, not really sure how to react. “Why do you say that?”

The woman was silent for several seconds, and as she was CT-0102 heard over the battalion push that they were getting close to their deployment point.

“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer this gunship to take up an overwatch position,” the woman said. “I do apologize, I should have mentioned it sooner.”

She pulled the box over to her, and undid the latches, then paused before opening it.

“What about this description of a weapon?” she asked. “A weapon that is designed for killing?”

102 blinked.

“Aren’t… most weapons designed for killing?” he asked. “That’s why they’re weapons.”

“Not at all,” the woman replied. “As we’ve just discussed. Your rifle is designed for practical battlefield use. Weight, length, shot count, rate of fire, all these considerations went into making it. Many other weapons are shaped by different design constraints entirely – a hold-out pistol, or a large heavy blaster. A lightsaber. I’m talking about a weapon that isn’t designed for a fight at all. That isn’t designed to be seen. That’s meant to be used as sparingly as possible, because you’re only meant to use it in the very direst need.”

She pushed open the box, and revealed a kind of long weapon, perhaps a blaster and perhaps not. It looked archaic, with some of the furniture made of actual wood and the rest out of something 102 couldn’t even identify, and there were odd protuberances and glowing blue segments on it.

“For such a weapon, all other considerations would be secondary to lethality,” the woman said. “If they were involved at all. It’s not intended to be involved in a battle, where you try to defeat the enemy; it’s not intended for a warning shot. The only purpose is to kill, and it is only to be used when there is no better choice.”

She knelt down on the floor of their gunship, and a few seconds later the Commander called out the launch order. Their assault ship was passing over the target zone, and all the gunships deployed.

Below, 102 could see the desert, and the darting red shapes of Aethersprite starfighters giving them cover against Geonosian fighter craft. More gunships were deploying, blasts going left and right, and 102 grabbed onto the handles overhead with a free hand for stability.

The woman didn’t seem to notice.

Instead, she took something from her belt, and slotted it into the weapon. It lit up, and she tapped a few controls before snugging the stock of the weapon into her shoulder.

“It’s a shame, you know,” she said, almost conversationally. “He was a great friend of mine, once. I thought he still was, until recently.”

“Who was?” 102 asked.

“Dooku,” the woman answered, her voice slightly distracted. “Emotion, yet peace… my old friend, I do not do this for revenge, but to prevent a greater wrong.”

The strange weapon spat out a bolt of brilliant sky-blue light, one that was like a solid bar connecting their gunship to the ground, and the woman hesitated for a moment… then let out a sigh.

“May you find the peace in death that so failed you in life,” she said, in tones of quiet prayer.

“Sorry, but – did you just…” 102 asked.

“What the kriff was that?” the gunship pilot asked, over the comm connection.

“Well, you can view it in two ways,” the Jedi Master said, ejecting her lightsaber from the rifle and examining it. “No, three, I think. Firstly, that my lightsaber and I were united in the need for that to be done. Secondly, that Count Dooku was too great a threat to peace in the galaxy to live. And third…”

Jocasta Nu placed the rifle back in its box.

“Nobody messes with the Jedi Archives,” she concluded.

[aizawaskittenwhore]

bedroom stats with armin!

hi guys im back, this is not to b taken seriously but i had to get these lil armin hcs out my drafts so enjoy! <3

content warnings: uh..smut!

yeah that’s about it. let me know if i missed anythin in the notes !

im not gonna say “armin likes missionary because hes shy/inexperienced >.<“ because not only is that played out, it’s not even true!!

armin’s thing is backshots w you on your stomach. pillow underneath you for optimal comfort, but sometimes if he’s in a rush, he doesn’t mind using the wall to serve his purpose

yes there are marks from where your neck and chest have mushed themselves into the drywall, forehead smearing sweat against eggshell paint as you revel in how fucking good he feels

he’s so fucking analytical in everything he does, even down to sex positions and what angles hit deepest when he’s fucking you..

Talks You Through It™️

im so deadass.

he loves watching you shiver as his lips come into range, his breath heady as it ghosts along your nervous system, your body zoned in on the sensation that is armin whispering utter filth as he rocks into you again, and again, and again

“i know, i know—“ you’re pushing his lower stomach in protest, his tip poking and prodding sweet moans out of you, body waivering when he molds himself into your cervix for just a second, retreating only to seemingly go even deeper on the next stroke

“move your fuckin’ hand.” is almost a whisper when he says it. but his voice is so deep and so sensuous when it slithers through you like that. naturally, your hand goes limp

“f-feel you in my stomach..”

“just means i got you to feel good.”

prefers to give over receive, less for you more for him

armin arlert relaxes by slurping up pussy juice and honestly, good for him!

does a lot of grunting during sex but his voice is just so breathy so it comes out angelic as fuck mmm

armin is also a whisperer during sex like he loves watching u shiver when he gets real close, body already being propelled from the momentum of him fucking you but when he starts whispering nasty shit in your ear as though he’s not in your guts???

mm

just mm.

throws his head back when he’s about to cum

yes with a lip bite cause for some strange reason he tries not to moan like you don’t love that shit..but go off i suppose

physically speaking no his dick is not enormous but it really makes no difference cause honey

stroke game gives rock the boat, rock the boat

im sorry i really wanted to add that AHAHA

nah but armin’s coming in at like 6.5 hard

and that’s ok!

also contrary to popular belief armin is an ass man.

it’s something about a nice ass and pair of thighs that’s gonna get him hard without fail, as he should

eats it from the back too

no i will not elaborate further

also loves it when you break script and don’t play along

he’s always had a thing for the “taming a bad girl” fantasy, possibly attributed to his rule-following mentality with everything else, but hey what do i know

calls u “nasty girl” when you’re getting nutted on

rubs it in w the tip after facials..

armin is a freak y’all better act like you know