#but this one was really a heartbreaking one

[leejenowrld]

after all this time?

word count — 8.2k

genre — smut, fluff 

synopsis — you run into jeno, your ex, at a college party. despite a tough breakup, the spark between you never faded. after a night of reconnecting and reigniting, you realize some feelings are too deep to ever truly go away.

warnings — explicit sexual content, explicit language and swearing, sexual themes, intense emotional scenes, reconciliations and reunions, don’t expect unnecessary and forced angst, this is a story of two emotionally mature and intelligent lovers, communication communication!!,  oral sex, unprotected sex (stay safe!!), intense smut scenes with themes of dominance and submission, scenes depicting emotional vulnerability and deep angst, themes of unhealed emotional wounds and confrontations, mentions of past relationship trauma and heartbreak, hea!! 

“After all this time, you still love me?” you whisper, your gaze intently searching his for confirmation.

He nods, his response quick and unwavering, infused with a depth of sincerity that leaves no room for doubt. “After all this time,” he affirms softly.

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The muffled thump of music grew louder as you and Yeji approached the house, the bass reverberating through the cool night air. It was your first night on campus, and the idea of starting over had already filled you with enough nervous energy to last a lifetime. Transferring halfway through your academic course wasn’t something you’d planned, but circumstances had changed, and now, so had you. 

Your arms were interlocked with Yeji’s, her presence steady and reassuring. You shot her a thankful smile, feeling a rush of gratitude wash over you. You hadn’t expected to make friends so quickly, especially on your first day, but Yeji had greeted you with a warmth that immediately put you at ease. Her bright, welcoming smile and easygoing attitude made the transition less daunting, and now, with her by your side, you felt like maybe—just maybe—things would be okay.

As you glanced around, the neighborhood was bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, the shadows of swaying trees flickering against the sidewalks. The crispness of the autumn night lingered in the air, a reminder that you were stepping into a new chapter of your life. A party wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined spending your first night, but Yeji had insisted. 

“You’ll get to know people this way,” she’d said, her voice light and encouraging. And now, despite your doubts, here you were, standing outside a house that seemed to pulse with life from within.

The house itself was large, the kind of place that screamed "party central" the moment you laid eyes on it. Soft, colorful lights spilled from the windows, casting a warm, inviting glow across the front yard. You could see silhouettes moving behind the windows, the faint murmur of laughter and conversation blending with the steady beat of the music. It looked like one of those classic college parties you’d only seen in movies—people standing in clusters, drinks in hand, and a general air of excitement buzzing through the night.

You adjusted the strap of your dress nervously, feeling the weight of the newness pressing down on your shoulders. A party had never really been your scene, especially not on the first night in an unfamiliar place, but something about this moment felt different. You weren’t the same person who avoided stepping out of her comfort zone. You were here now, and you wanted to make the most of it.

“Ready?” Yeji’s voice broke through your thoughts, her eyes shining with anticipation as she glanced over at you. Her energy was infectious, and you found yourself nodding, despite the tight knot of anxiety still sitting in your chest.

You took a deep breath, letting the sounds of the night fill your senses—the distant hum of cars passing, the rustle of leaves in the wind, the faint echo of laughter from the house. It was all part of this new world you were stepping into, and for the first time in a long time, you felt the stirrings of excitement mingling with your nerves.

“Let’s do this,” you said, your voice more confident than you felt.

As the two of you made your way toward the front door, you could feel the energy of the party radiating outward. The door opened, and a wave of warmth hit you, both from the inside heat and the buzz of life within. The soft glow of string lights hanging from the ceiling gave the place a laid-back, cozy atmosphere, contrasting with the thrumming music that vibrated through the walls.

Inside, the house was packed. People filled every available space—some lounging on couches, drinks in hand, others gathered in small groups, laughing and talking. The smell of something sweet and a little smoky hung in the air, and the chatter mixed with the pulse of the music, creating a kind of chaotic harmony. You scanned the room, taking it all in—the casual, carefree smiles of people you didn’t know yet, the flash of colorful cups clinking together, and the low, heady buzz of excitement that seemed to swirl through the crowd.

Yeji led you through the throng, her hand still hooked around your arm as she navigated the party with the ease of someone who’d done this a hundred times before. She moved with confidence, offering smiles and waves to people she knew as she guided you through the maze of bodies, all the while keeping a reassuring presence by your side.

You couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, like you were watching everything unfold from the outside. The laughter, the easy conversations, the way people moved around each other like they belonged—it all felt like a world you hadn’t quite stepped into yet. But being here, surrounded by this energy, made you want to dive in, to be part of it.

“This is it,” Yeji said, smiling as she pulled you to a stop near the kitchen, where a makeshift bar had been set up. Bottles of every kind of alcohol lined the counters, and a few people were mixing drinks with practiced ease. “What do you think?”

You glanced around, feeling the pulse of the party in your bones, the music reverberating through the floor beneath your feet. “It’s… a lot,” you admitted with a laugh, feeling the tension in your chest start to loosen just a little. “But it’s good.”

Yeji grinned, squeezing your arm. “That’s the spirit. Let’s grab a drink and have some fun.”

You nodded, taking another deep breath as you let yourself be pulled into the flow of the night. The unfamiliar faces, the hum of excitement, the newness of it all—it didn’t feel quite as overwhelming anymore. You were here, in this moment, and maybe, just maybe, it was exactly where you were meant to be.

“Who’s house party is this?” you ask, glancing around. The question lingers in the air for a moment as Yeji opens her mouth to answer, but before she can, you bump headfirst into someone’s chest, your momentum nearly knocking his drink out of his hand.

You stumble slightly, your hands flying up in reflex to steady yourself. His chest is firm—hard, even—and your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you take a step back, wide-eyed. You open your mouth to apologize, but the words get stuck in your throat when you look up.

At first, his expression is one of annoyance, his brow furrowed as he glances down at you. But then his eyes meet yours, and everything shifts. His features soften, and time seems to slow down, the noise of the party fading into the background as the two of you stare at each other, frozen in place. His gaze flickers over your face, taking in every detail, and you can see the moment recognition dawns in his eyes.

“Jeno,” you breathe, the name slipping from your lips effortlessly, almost as if your body had been waiting for this moment. You blink, half-convinced that this is some sort of dream—because how could it be real? How could he be here, after all this time?

Yeji starts to speak again, her voice cutting through the haze of disbelief. “Yeah, it’s his party—” She trails off when she notices the way you and Jeno are looking at each other, the sexual energy that seems to hang in the air between you two. It’s like the entire room has disappeared, and suddenly, it’s just the two of you standing there, unmoving, locked in a silent conversation only you can understand.

People around you begin to grumble, nudging and pushing past as you both stand still, blocking the hallway. Someone mutters something about moving, but you can’t bring yourself to care. All that matters is the person standing in front of you, the one you hadn’t expected to see, let alone here, in this place.

“Y/N.” His voice is deeper now, more grounded, and the sound of your name on his lips sends a shiver down your spine. It’s familiar, yet distant—like hearing a song you used to love, but haven’t listened to in years.

You swallow hard, taking him in, trying to make sense of how much he’s changed. The teenage boy you once knew has grown into a man, his features sharper, more mature. His jawline is strong and defined, the once soft angles of his face now chiseled. His hair, slightly tousled in a way that looks effortlessly perfect, falls into his eyes, which are darker and more intense than you remember. There’s a confidence in the way he holds himself now, his broad shoulders filling out the leather jacket that clings to him like a second skin. He’s beautiful, in the way that takes your breath away, but there’s something different about him too—something distant.

You can’t help but smile at him, though your heart hammers in your chest, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. Joy, disbelief, and something deeper—something painful. But that smile falters when you see the way he returns it: tight-lipped, almost forced. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and the realization stings, sending a pang of guilt through your chest.

You frown, the weight of your last interaction with him crashing down on you. All those years ago—the tears, the screaming, the painful goodbye. You can still feel the heartbreak in your bones, the ache that never fully went away. It’s all rushing back to you now, as if no time has passed at all.

He looks at you, and for a moment, it’s like he can see straight through you. Every memory, every feeling, every regret. You gulp, your heart heavy with the confusion of seeing him here, after all these years, in a place where you’d least expect to run into him.

You’re overthinking—your mind spiraling through everything that went wrong, how things ended between you two. The guilt gnaws at you, but at the same time, there’s a flicker of something else. A warmth, a quiet happiness in your chest that he’s here. Out of all the people, out of all the chances, it’s him. It’s confusing, overwhelming, and it makes your head spin.

Love was never simple. And seeing Jeno again, after all this time, only reminds you of how complicated it can really be.

“Come here,” Jeno says softly, his voice a gentle command that cuts through the haze of noise around you. His eyes search yours with an intensity that sends a warmth rushing through your chest, and when he notices the flicker of uncertainty in your expression, his gaze softens. He always did think your smile was the prettiest, and now he just wants to see it again.

You hesitate for only a second before moving toward him, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you step into his embrace. Your heart races, your body thrumming with nervous energy, but being in his arms feels like a release—like slipping into something warm and familiar. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close, his grip firm but gentle, as though he’s afraid to let go. The feel of him against you is intoxicating—solid, warm, his body radiating a heat that makes your skin tingle. The scent of him, that blend of fresh soap and something uniquely Jeno, envelops you, making you feel safe, grounded.

Your arms slide up around his shoulders, pulling him closer, your fingertips grazing the back of his neck. His skin is warm beneath your touch, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. You bury your face in his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the soft thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. It’s as if time has slowed down, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the party, the noise, the crowd. It’s just you and him, wrapped in this moment, in each other.

But all too soon, he pulls back, and the loss of his warmth hits you like a cold wind. You blink up at him, confused, your heart still pounding in your chest. And that’s when you notice it—the stares, the whispers. People around you are watching, their eyes filled with curiosity, judgment, and something darker that makes your skin crawl. It’s only now, without Jeno shielding you, that you feel exposed, vulnerable, as if the entire room is dissecting the moment you just shared.

You gulp, trying to shake off the unease, but it lingers, gnawing at the edges of your mind. Why were they all staring? Why were there whispers? What had you done to deserve those mean eyes?

Before you can spiral further, Jeno’s hand reaches for your face, his fingers gently tilting your chin upward until your eyes meet his. The world seems to still again under the weight of his gaze. His eyes are soft, filled with understanding, and without a word, he tells you everything you need to know—focus on me, not them.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice low, sultry, yet threaded with that same kindness and softness you remember so well. His arms find their way back around your waist, pulling you close once more. The feel of him pressed against you again sends a wave of calm through your body, making you forget about all the eyes still watching.

You clear your throat, trying to gather your thoughts. “Oh, I made a new friend, and she brought me to this party. She kinda dragged me along, she’s over there—” you ramble, gesturing vaguely in Yeji’s direction.

“I meant… what are you doing here? In Seoul?” he cuts you off, his gaze steady as he searches your face for the real answer.

“Oh—” you stammer, blinking in surprise. “I transferred to this campus today.”

Jeno’s lips quirk into a small smile. “I’m a student here too.”

You nod, the realization slowly sinking in. “Did you end up doing engineering?” you ask, your voice soft, almost tentative. You fight the urge to reach up and run your fingers through his hair—it was always so soft, so tempting.

He nods, holding back a grin. “Yeah. And you?”

“Journalism,” you reply, your words barely above a whisper, your gaze never leaving his.

“I knew it,” he says, his smile widening as if he’s always known that was your path.

The air between you hums with something unspoken, something simmering just beneath the surface. You suddenly become aware that his arms are still around your waist, holding you close, and the weight of his touch makes your pulse quicken. His body is pressed against yours, so close that you can feel the heat of him radiating through your clothes. Without hesitation, you slide your arms up around his shoulders, pulling him even closer.

Jeno hums softly, the sound vibrating through his chest as he looks down at you. His eyes are darker now, filled with something you can’t quite place. His hands move slowly, trailing up and down your spine, the light touch sending shivers across your skin. He never lets his hands go lower, even though part of you wishes he would.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice low and intimate, his gaze never wavering from yours. The words hang in the air between you, thick with meaning, and you can feel your heart stutter in response.

You don’t trust your voice to respond, so you just smile up at him, the warmth of his words seeping into your skin, making you feel seen, understood, and undeniably desired.

You swallow, the heat between you nearly overwhelming, and before you can stop yourself, the words slip from your lips. “Do you wanna go somewhere more private?” Your voice is a little shaky, but the meaning is clear. “We have a lot to catch up on, and this party is kinda dead, anyway.”

Jeno’s eyes widen slightly, and then he chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “This is my party,” he reminds you, his lips quirking into a teasing smile.

“Oh,” you mumble, feeling a little sheepish. “Right…”

You feel your cheeks warm under his gaze, and you mumble, “Well, you haven’t been partying.”

He shakes his head with a soft laugh, then leans down, his voice barely a whisper. “Come with me.”

He pulls back just enough to slip his hand into yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you. The second his arms leave your waist, you feel the absence of his presence, but then his hand squeezes yours, and he gently pulls you through the crowd, guiding you with purpose. The whispers and stares fade into the background as you follow him, your heart pounding in anticipation.

Jeno leads you down a hallway, away from the thrum of the party, and finally into his room. It’s a simple space, neat but lived-in. A TV is mounted  against the wall next to a desk cluttered with papers and books, and his bed is neatly made, the navy blue sheets crisp against the low lighting. The room smells faintly of him—clean, comforting, with a hint of something warm and masculine. He lets you step in first, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

As soon as the door clicks shut, you’re on him, and he’s on you—there’s no hesitation, no space left between you. Your lips collide with his in a heated, desperate kiss, as if neither of you can wait a second longer. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist with a hunger that makes your knees weak, pulling you so close you can barely breathe, not that you care.

You can feel his need, the urgency in the way his fingers dig into your skin, in the way his lips devour yours like he’s been starving for this moment. Your hands are tangled in his shirt, yanking him closer, matching his intensity. Tongues meet in a fevered rhythm, gasps escaping between kisses, the room thick with the heat building between you.

Without thinking, you jump into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he steadies you with a low grunt, his strength evident in the way he holds you so effortlessly. He fumbles for the light switch, turning it off, and the room is instantly bathed in the soft, flickering glow of candles—ones he had lit earlier. The dim light casts shadows across the room, making the moment feel even more intimate, more romantic.

With one hand, he locks the door behind you then with a gentleness that contrasts with the fire burning between you, he carries you over to the bed, lowering you carefully onto the soft sheets. His gaze never leaves yours, full of so much longing and adoration it makes your breath catch. For a moment, he just stares down at you, as though memorizing every detail, every inch of you.

Then he’s on you again, pulling you into his lap, his hands roaming your back as your lips crash together once more. This time it’s even more desperate, the tension between you palpable as soft moans escape both your lips, mingling in the heated air. His hands move up your spine, gently tugging at your clothes, and you respond in kind, your fingers working to undo his shirt, your skin buzzing with anticipation.

You grind down against him, feeling how hard he already is beneath you, and he groans, his grip tightening on your waist. The heat between you is overwhelming, the connection almost too much to bear, but in the back of your mind, something lingers—something you need to say.

You pull back, your lips parting from his with a soft gasp, and he groans again, clearly frustrated by the sudden distance. His brow furrows as his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, his desire for you unmistakable. “We can have sex after…” you whisper, your voice soft but insistent as you press a gentle kiss to his forehead, hoping he understands. “I just want to talk to you now.”

He exhales, the tension in his body easing slightly as he nods, offering you a patient, if slightly strained, smile. He hums softly, his hand still resting gently on your waist, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he nods, silently encouraging you to go ahead and speak.

“I’m sorry,” you begin, the words barely above a whisper, but the heaviness of them palpable in the quiet room.

He watches you closely, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression soft but serious. The warmth of his body next to yours is comforting, yet the guilt gnaws at you from the inside out.

“I’m sorry for leaving the way I did... leaving us the way I did,” you continue, your voice catching. “I’m so fucking sorry, Jeno. I know it’s too many years too late, but please believe me when I say I wish I could go back. I wish I could’ve stayed with you all these years. I’d go back, and I’d choose you—every single time.”

You try to hold it together, but when you see a single tear escape from his eye, your own walls crumble. The tears spill over, unbidden and uncontrollable. Your hands tremble as you reach up to cup his face, your thumb gently brushing away the tear that trails down his cheek.

“I love you so much,” you choke out. “I always have, and I always will. I’ve never stopped loving you, Jeno. The biggest mistake of my life was leaving you, and that will always haunt me. I’ll always regret it. I’ll always hate myself for what I did to us, to you.”

His lips part slightly, as if he wants to say something, but you continue, needing to let it all out, needing him to understand.

“I didn’t want to leave you. It was the hardest decision of my life and one I wish I never made. Japan wasn’t worth it... I hated every second. I missed you every single day. I didn’t even realize how much I missed you, how much I needed you, until today.”

The vulnerability of your words hangs in the air between you, raw and exposed. The years of separation suddenly feel like nothing as you bare your soul to him. Jeno had always been the one you could unravel yourself for, the one who knew every emotion, every thought, even when you tried to hide it. It was strange to realize that after all this time—after all the changes life had thrown at you—your feelings for him were unchanged, as deep and intense as ever.

He sends you a tight-lipped smile, one of understanding, and gently wipes away your tears with the pad of his thumb before leaning in and kissing your forehead softly, the tenderness of the gesture almost breaking you all over again.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, his voice low and calm. “You don’t need to apologize to me. At the time, I was hurt, but I knew you had your reasons. We were so young. I never held anything against you all these years. I’ve always been proud of you. No one deserved that opportunity in Japan more than you. I’m sorry it didn’t turn out the way you wanted. But Y/N, it’s been so long, I don’t feel the same pain as I did when you left. I accept your apology though.”

A sigh of relief escapes your lips, a heavy weight lifting from your chest, though the tears still threaten to spill over. “You were always so understanding and supportive,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion.

He smiles, that familiar, kind smile that always made you feel safe. “It’s not hard to be when it’s you.”

You exhale shakily, still reeling from the intensity of the moment. “I’ve been imagining this for years, you know. Finding my way back to you, having this conversation, figuring out what I’d say to make things right. I’ve never forgotten you, Jeno. Not once. I didn’t think I’d see you tonight... but it feels good, it feels like nothing changed, even though I know everything has.”

His eyes soften as he listens, his hand still resting on your cheek, grounding you in the moment. But there’s a question hanging in the air, one that you know he has to ask.

“Why didn’t you contact me again?” he finally says, his voice gentle, not accusatory, but filled with genuine curiosity. “You had me blocked on everything. I tried to reach out, but I couldn’t.”

You lower your gaze, shame creeping up on you, and you bite your lip. “I didn’t have you blocked at first,” you admit quietly. “But after how I left things, after that massive fight we had... I didn’t think I deserved to be in your life anymore. I felt so guilty, Jeno. I didn’t think I deserved you, so I blocked you to stop myself from calling, from telling you how much I regretted it.”

He nods slowly, processing your words. “So why now? Why did you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Time has gone on, and a lot has changed. I’ve grown up, and I’m not losing you again.”

A slow grin spreads across his face, softening the lines of tension that had been there moments before. “So you always imagined coming back to me?” he repeats, echoing your earlier words with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You smile through the tears that still linger in your eyes. “I always knew I’d find my way back to you.”

Jeno's grin widens, and without warning his lips capture yours again, but this time there’s a deliberate, slower intensity behind the kiss. His hands glide up to cradle your face, fingers strong yet gentle, as he guides you back onto the bed. His weight presses softly against you, but his touch remains light, controlled, like he’s savoring every second.

He leans down, his lips tracing a path over your skin, brushing across your forehead, your cheekbones, down to your jaw. Each kiss is unhurried, but there’s a quiet hunger in the way his lips linger, in the way his breath comes hot against your skin. He knows how to take his time, but there’s an underlying sense of control, a restraint that makes every touch more electric.

His hands move lower, fingertips grazing over your hips, sending shivers through you. His lips follow, trailing from your neck, down over your collarbone. His touch is confident, exploring your body with a slow, deliberate pace, like he’s memorizing every inch. There’s a heat between you, building with each press of his lips, each pass of his hand, as he continues his slow descent.

He gazes at you with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine, his eyes dark and filled with desire. Gently, he guides you onto the soft sheets, his hands never leaving your body. As he kneels between your thighs, his fingertips trail lightly along your skin, igniting sparks wherever he touches. The anticipation builds as he lowers himself, his warm breath ghosting over your most sensitive areas.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs, his voice husky. He places tender kisses along your inner thighs, each one drawing a soft gasp from your lips. His eyes flick up to meet yours, a mischievous glint dancing within them before he continues his journey.

When his mouth finally reaches your core, he starts with a gentle, lingering kiss, his lips soft against you. A sigh escapes you, and your fingers instinctively weave into his hair, the silky strands slipping between your fingers as you hold him close. He smiles against you, clearly enjoying the way you respond to his touch.

He begins to explore with his tongue, starting with slow, deliberate strokes that make your breath hitch. He licks a teasing line from bottom to top, savoring every moment. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body. He nips lightly, his teeth grazing just enough to add an edge to the softness, then soothes the spot with his tongue.

“Jeno,” you moan softly, your voice trembling. He responds by gripping your hips firmly, pulling you closer to his eager mouth. His movements become more passionate, his tongue circling and flicking in a rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart. The heat between you intensifies, every nerve ending alive under his attentive care.

He sucks gently at first, creating a delicious pressure that builds with each passing second. Then he increases the intensity, drawing you deeper into a haze of sensation. The wet warmth of his mouth contrasts with the cool air of the room, heightening your awareness of every movement.

Your back arches off the bed as you feel yourself losing control. You tug at his hair, a silent plea for more, and he groans appreciatively, the sound vibrating against you and adding another layer of pleasure. His name falls from your lips like a mantra, each syllable filled with need.

He adjusts his approach based on the shifts in your breathing, the tilts of your hips guiding him. One hand remains firmly on your lower abdomen, pressing just enough to enhance the sensations rippling through you while he releases his other hand from your hip to entwine his fingers with yours, his grip is reassuring yet possessive. Holding your gaze, he spits softly, the unexpected act intensifying the slickness and sending a thrill through you. “You taste so good,” he whispers against you before diving back in with renewed fervor.

His tongue moves expertly, finding the perfect rhythm and pressure to push you toward the edge. The combination of his mouth and the subtle squeeze of his hand around yours creates a connection that feels both electric and intimate. The sounds filling the room—the soft slurping, his occasional groans, your escalating moans—blend into a symphony of raw desire.

The tension within you coils tighter, a wave of heat building low in your belly. “Please… don’t stop,” you whisper, barely able to form the words. He answers by doubling his efforts, his tongue moving faster, more deliberately. He nips and sucks with just the right amount of pressure, his movements confident and unrelenting.

Your thighs tremble around him, and your grip on his hair tightens. The world narrows to the point where only this moment exists—the feel of his mouth, the warmth of his breath, the intense gaze that holds you captive.

With one final, perfectly placed stroke, the wave crests. Pleasure crashes over you in powerful surges, your body shuddering as you cry out his name. He doesn’t let up, guiding you through the climax with gentle licks and kisses, prolonging the bliss until you’re left utterly spent.

As you sink back into the softness of the pillows, your breathing is heavy, your body still trembling from the waves of pleasure. Jeno doesn’t pause; he continues his gentle ministrations, planting soft, deliberate kisses up your inner thigh. Each kiss sends a shiver up your spine, a lingering promise of more to come. When he finally meets your lips, the kiss is deep and deliberate, letting you taste your own arousal on him, mingling it with his desire.

A soft whine escapes you as you feel the hard press of his erection against you. It’s not just the contact but the intent behind it that makes your heart race—a palpable reminder of your shared hunger. You reach down, your fingers encircling his length, and the contact pulls a guttural moan from deep within you. He’s slick with anticipation, his size as formidable as ever. As your hand glides along him, you’re reminded of the first times—those initial encounters where his size was an exhilarating challenge. The memory of how he filled you completely, stretching you deliciously, flashes through your mind. Even the way he felt in your mouth, substantial and overwhelming, rushes back, tinting your cheeks with desire.

Jeno’s eyes darken with desire, locked onto your movements. His breath hitches as you explore, recalling the precise ways to stoke his arousal. As your hand moves, he suddenly grips it gently, stopping your motions. “Don’t baby, I won’t last,” he murmurs with a strained moan, his voice thick with lust. This interruption, laden with urgent need, sends a thrill through you, underscoring the intensity of the moment and the deep, carnal connection that continues to draw you irresistibly together.

He groans softly, his breath warm against your ear. “Do you have a condom?” Jeno asks, his voice tinged with a mix of urgency and desire.

You shake your head, feeling a flutter of nerves and longing swirling in your stomach. The dim light casts a soft glow over his familiar features, highlighting the depth in his eyes. “Jeno… I’m literally a virgin,” you whisper, your cheeks flushing slightly.

His brows raise, a playful disbelief dancing across his face. “No, you’re not. I took your virginity. Are you saying I never used fuck you good enough?”

You smile softly, running your fingers through his tousled hair, the silky strands slipping between your fingers. The familiar gesture brings a rush of memories—stolen glances, shared laughter, the way his touch used to set your skin on fire. “No, I’m saying you were the last person I had sex with,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been a long time for me, so I don’t just carry around condoms.”

He blinks, surprise and a flicker of emotion crossing his gaze. “The last time we had sex was five years ago,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hip. “I know we used to have a lot of sex but that’s a long time.” He whispers. 

“It’s been six years,” you correct him softly. “I’ve not even wanted to fuck anyone else, I was never able to get over you even if I tried to move on.” 

He leans back slightly, eyes widening as realization dawns. “Wait, seriously?” His gaze softens, a mixture of surprise and something deeper reflecting in his eyes. “It’s only ever been me?”

You nod, a hint of vulnerability beneath your steady gaze. “Yes,” you admit quietly. “It’s always been you.” 

A slow, affectionate smile spreads across his face. “Well, that’s good to know,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. “Because I don’t want anyone else.”

He gazes deeply into your eyes, his breath warm against your lips. “Are you on the pill?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with a mix of desire and concern.

You shake your head slowly, feeling a potent mix of frustration and longing swirling within you. The heat between your bodies is almost unbearable, every inch of your skin alive with anticipation. “I want you,” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath. “I want you to come inside me. Just fuck me, please.”

His eyes widen slightly, a storm of emotions flickering across his face—desire, hesitation, and something deeper. “Y/N… are you sure?” he asks, his tone serious as he cups your face gently in his hands. His thumbs brush lightly over your cheeks, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt.

“Yes,” you affirm, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. “I need you. I’ll take the morning-after pill.”

He exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as a slow smile spreads across his lips. “Alright,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I need you too.”

As he enters you, it's as if the world narrows to just the two of you, every sensation amplified. The initial stretch is intense—a blend of sharp pleasure and a fleeting ache that steals your breath. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you adjust to him, the fullness both overwhelming and profoundly intimate. Tears well up in your eyes, not from pain, but from the cascade of emotions flooding through you. You never anticipated that this night would lead you here, wrapped in the arms of the man you've always loved. It feels right, destined—as if every moment in your lives had been guiding you back to this point.

"You're so tight," he whispers, his voice strained with a mix of restraint and desire. He moves slowly, each deliberate thrust gentle, allowing you time to acclimate to the depth of connection between you. His eyes never leave yours, filled with concern and an affection that makes your heart swell.

You blink up at him through blurred vision, feeling both vulnerable and cherished under his gaze. "So you forgive me? Do you still love me?" you ask softly, your voice tinged with hope and uncertainty.

His lips brush tenderly across your cheeks, kissing away the tears that have escaped. Each touch ignites a warm spark beneath your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "I never stopped loving you," he murmurs, his words a soothing balm that eases the lingering doubts in your heart. The sincerity in his eyes reflects the depth of his feelings, making the moment all the more poignant.

As his movements begin to find a steady rhythm, the heat between you intensifies. The slow, sensual glide of his body against yours builds a mounting tension, each motion drawing you deeper into a shared world where only the two of you exist. Your fingers intertwine above your head, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he's anchoring himself to you. The intimacy of the gesture sends a flutter through your chest, solidifying the unspoken promises hanging in the air.

"Wait," you breathe out between soft gasps, “Can we go to mine? The bed isn't as big but I want to show you some things.” 

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating pleasantly against your skin. "Baby... I'm literally inside of you right now," he teases, disbelief and amusement mingling in his expression.

A laugh bubbles up from your lips, mingling with the quiet moans filling the room. "I know you are! I just meant after." you exclaim, a smile spreading across your face as a blush warms your cheeks.

“Wowww, I haven’t even finished fucking you in my bed and you’re already wanting me to fuck you in yours? So impatient, baby…” he tuts playfully, a teasing smirk dancing on his lips.

You pout, a playful glint in your eyes. “I just want to show you my room and the cute dresses and skirts I got.”

He coos softly, leaning in to press his lips against yours, the kiss warm and tender. He promises you that he’ll go to your place tonight and that you can show him everything you want, and that you’ll do whatever you have in mind.

His affectionate shake of the head softens his expression, a mix of amusement and adoration shining through. “You haven’t changed… still the yapper you always were.”

“Hey!” you protest lightly, squeezing his hand with a mock glare, though the laughter bubbling between you both erases any tension. The moment feels light, full of shared history and comfort, wrapping you in a warmth that feels both familiar and cherished.

His lips move to yours once again as he begins to move with purpose inside of you, each thrust deliberate and steady, sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. The sensation of him filling you completely is both overwhelming and exquisite. Your bodies fit together seamlessly, as if molded for each other. His cock feels thick and warm inside you, the veins pulsing against your inner walls with every movement. The slickness between you eases his glide, intensifying the friction that draws soft moans from your parted lips.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper. The angle shifts slightly, and he hits a spot that makes you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. "God, you feel incredible," he groans, his voice strained with restraint. A sheen of sweat forms on his brow, and his dark hair falls messily over his eyes. You reach up to brush it aside, your fingers trembling as they trace the contours of his face.

"Jeno," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of skin meeting skin—the rhythmic slap that echoes in the room, punctuated by your shared breaths and quiet whimpers. The scent of desire hangs heavy in the air, a heady mix that makes your head spin.

He gazes down at you, eyes filled with a mix of lust and tenderness. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, leaning in to press kisses along your jawline, down the curve of your neck. His lips are warm and soft, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You arch your back, pressing your chest against his. The friction of your bodies sends sparks of electricity coursing through you. Your hands roam over his toned back, feeling the muscles tense and flex beneath your touch. Each thrust drives him deeper, the intensity building with every passing second.

The pleasure mounts, a coil tightening low in your belly. His pace quickens, hips snapping with a newfound urgency. The sounds of your passion grow louder—his low grunts mingling with your breathy moans. "I can't get enough of you," he growls, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your shoulder.

"Don't stop," you plead, your head thrown back as he hits that perfect spot again and again. The world blurs at the edges, your focus narrowing to the exquisite sensations he's drawing from you. You moan softly, your head tilting back as he kisses along the sensitive curve of your neck. “Right there,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a sigh.

“Like this?” he asks, his lips brushing against your ear. His tone carries a hint of teasing, but his eyes are filled with tenderness.

“Yes,” you reply, your fingers digging gently into his back as you encourage him to maintain the rhythm.

His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining as he brings them above your head. The gesture is both protective and possessive, anchoring you to him. The intimacy of it sends a warm rush through your body.

“Look at me,” he whispers. You meet his gaze, losing yourself in the depths of his eyes. The connection between you transcends the physical; it’s as if your souls are touching.

He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure. His tongue dances with yours, the taste of him intoxicating. Your lungs burn for air, but you don't dare pull away, not wanting to break the connection.

Your bodies move in perfect harmony. The bed creaks beneath you, the sheets tangled around your entwined limbs. A thin layer of sweat slicks your skin, making every touch slippery and electrifying.

"I'm close," you gasp against his lips, your nails digging crescents into his back. The tension inside you winds tighter, threatening to snap.

"Me too," he groans, his rhythm becoming erratic. His hand finds yours, fingers interlacing as he pins it gently above your head. The gesture is possessive yet tender, grounding you in the moment.

You whine softly, tears welling in your eyes as you instinctively cover your face, overwhelmed by the pleasure. Each moan that escapes your lips is a testament to the intensity building within you. “Look at me,” he urges again, his gaze searching yours with a dark intensity that sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body. When you don’t move your hands, he gently pries them away, his voice low and sultry as he warns, “If you cover your face again, I’ll get handcuffs.” The threat hangs in the air, electrifying the moment and deepening the tension between you.

Your eyes meet his, locking in a gaze so profound it feels as though he’s seeing into your very soul. The stern edge in his expression softens abruptly, replaced by a tenderness that takes your breath away. His movements slow, each thrust becoming deliberate and filled with meaning.

“I love you so much,” he breathes, his voice rough with passion yet laced with vulnerability.

Your heart swells, the raw emotion in his eyes mirroring your own feelings. “I love you more,” you manage to reply, the words tumbling out amidst your mounting ecstasy.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, soulful kiss. The world around you fades as you melt into him, every sensation intensified—the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat, the way his breath mingles with yours.

With a final, deep thrust, the coil inside you releases. Pleasure crashes over you in waves, your vision white-hot as you cry out his name. Your inner walls flutter and clench around him, pulling him deeper.

Feeling you come undone pushes him over the edge. He groans loudly, his grip on your hand tightening as he spills into you. The warmth of his release fills you, a intimate claim that leaves you both trembling.

He collapses gently onto you, careful not to crush you under his weight. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his breaths hot and ragged against your skin. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart matching your own.

For a few moments, neither of you moves, both riding out the lingering pulses of pleasure. The room is filled with the sounds of your slowing breaths, the air heavy with the scent of sex and something deeper—reconnection.

He lifts his head to meet your gaze, a soft smile curving his swollen lips. His eyes shine with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness. Gently, he brushes a damp strand of hair away from your face.

He moves inside you with a relentless rhythm, drawing out until only the tip remains, then thrusting back in deeply. As he pulls out, the slick sound of your combined arousal fills the air, and the visual of his glistening arousal intensifies the raw, erotic nature of the moment. Your eyes flutter, heavy with the afterglow and impending exhaustion, but he’s quick to gently catch your attention.

“Don’t sleep now, remember you have to show me your apartment,” he says, his voice a tender nudge against the lure of sleep. You nod, half-heartedly, your body sinking deeper into the comfort of his bed and his arms, your eyes remaining firmly shut.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Sex always did use to knock you out,” he observes with a warm laugh. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he whispers, his hands coaxing you gently off the bed despite your protesting groan. He leads you into the bathroom where he runs a nice, warm bath. The steam fills the room as he carefully helps you into the tub, his care and attention washing over you as soothingly as the water itself.

That night, as effortlessly as slipping into a warm bath, he became your boyfriend again. It didn’t feel rushed or unnatural; rather, it was the most natural progression in the world. It was as if fate had steered you back to this exact moment, unwilling to let you waste more precious time apart. Despite the years, the foundation of your relationship remained unshaken; tonight, you simply continued building upon it, marveling at how natural it felt to be together, how much you both had grown.

Later, nestled against him, the vulnerability of your conversation mirrors the intimacy you’ve shared physically. “I still don’t understand why you forgave me so easily though,” you murmur, half-dazed by sleep and contentment.

Jeno’s response is tinged with the wisdom gained from years of reflection, “I was mad at first but then I calmed down. Being angry wouldn’t help either of us. Besides,” his voice softens, “there’s a reason you’re back here with me now. No point in wasting any more time.”

Your mind spins briefly with the image of him with someone else, but his next words reassure you, “You’ve been the only one for me. I never stopped loving you.”

You laugh, a soft, disbelieving snort, “And to think you’ve been the only man I’ve ever been with.”

He grins, the sound of his laughter mixing with yours in the quiet of the night. “And the only guy you’ve had sex with… I still can’t believe it.”

Your voice is playful, yet curious, “So how many girls have you been with other than me?”

Jeno's response is nonchalant, a casual shrug catching the dim light of the room, “Honestly, I don’t keep count.” His tone is dismissive of the past, focusing only on the present moment with you.

“Hey,” you interject gently, shifting the conversation as your eyes soften and your voice drops to a more vulnerable tone, which he immediately responds to with a comforting hum and an encouraging smile.

“After all this time, you still love me?” you whisper, your gaze intently searching his for confirmation. Despite the clear affection and warmth in his eyes—a testament to his feelings—doubt whispers through your mind, pushing you to seek reassurance.

He nods, his response quick and unwavering, infused with a depth of sincerity that leaves no room for doubt. “After all this time,” he affirms softly, his voice a steady anchor in the sea of your insecurities. His simple affirmation, laden with years of unspoken emotion and a steadfast commitment, resonates deeply, offering you a profound sense of peace and belonging. His eyes hold yours, reinforcing his words, a silent vow that despite everything, his heart has remained irrevocably yours.

──────────────────────────────

authors note — i know i’ve been really inactive, this work doubles as a sorry and a thank you for an amazing follower milestone i’ve just reached <3 mwah mwah enjoy. make sure you leave an interaction if you enjoyed it xx

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 700

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. this is just a short prologue to show how things end (yay happy endings!), but the two have a lot of trauma to go through before they reach endgame. i love kinich's character and design so i'm excited for this! interaction is highly appreciated :)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

Kinich thinks he’s loved you since forever.

He has no way of proving that, of course; those years are long gone, and even if he had the opportunity to ask, he’s not sure his younger self would have a comprehensible answer. He can only see now that he’s come so far, when the memories are too murky to make sense of but the warmth remains—when he thinks of your smile and feels something akin to the weightlessness of grappling and flying through the trees.

He says “forever” because he really has no idea when it started—the realization came far after the feeling. He’d been before school age when he met you for the first time, and it’s been over a decade since then.

“Kinich!”

Your call interrupts his thoughts, and his gaze is drawn skyward—you’re standing somewhere far above him, on one of the walkways lining the cliffs of the Scions of the Canopy. You’re waving so wildly and ridiculously that it almost makes him smile.

“Are you coming down?” he calls through cupped hands, well-acquainted with this kind of long-distance communication. Sound tends to echo well between the cliffs here, and he’s sure you heard him when you offer an enthusiastic thumbs-up in return. 

“Yup! I bought a few things, so I was hoping you could help me carry them home!”

Kinich rolls his eyes teasingly. “Somehow I doubt that you have enough Mora left to afford my services.”

You pout in reply. Ajaw decides to appear then, a malicious puff of smoke over Kinich’s shoulder. “Of course not! You better not be making fun of me, letting some mortal treat you like a servant! The Almighty Dragonlord, K’uhul Ajaw, won’t take this kind of disrespect—”

Ignoring his wordy introduction, you call down to Kinich again. “I’m coming down! Think fast!”

“—Don’t make me lau—wait, what?!”

Even Ajaw yelps in surprise as you take a running leap off the walkway, freefalling fast down the plane of the cliff. If he were any younger, Kinich might’ve had a heart attack. But you’ve been pushing your luck with him for years, and it comes as instinct when Kinich grapples up, deftly catching you in his arms with a light ‘oof’.

You’re holding a few boxes in your arms, he notices, and you smile. 

“I bought some Puff Pops for us to share later. I was thinking we can do some climbing, or there’s this cave I’ve been meaning to explore.”

His heart does a sort of flip that cannot be attributed to the way you fly through the sky. It’s all so much: the sensation of your warmth pressed against him, the scent of the wind rushing past, and the laughter of his tribe members below. Their eyes shine as they watch the two of you pass above them, chuckling at the familiar sight. 

And really, he can’t remember ever being this happy. When he thinks of how much it took to reach this point, the heartbreak and trauma aren’t the first things to come to mind. Instead, it’s you. The way you held him, the way you cried for him, the way you chased him. Always laughing, always in love.

Too lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice your curious stare for a moment. You poke at his cheek, and he startles, nearly dropping you both.

“Is something wrong?” you ask shyly, suddenly self-conscious of the box in your hands. “We don’t have to do any of that. Really, if you have a high-value job or something, I understand.”

Ajaw decides to butt-in again, reddened with rage. “Yes, all of that sucks! I mean, seriously, don’t you have anything better to do—”

“No, it’s great,” Kinich murmurs in reply, flicking Ajaw away with a strong hand—the Saurian’s roar dissipates with the wind. He holds you tighter against his chest. There’s nothing worth more to him than you. “That all sounds really, really amazing.”

As the two of you burst through the trees, laughing the whole way, he thinks that it doesn’t really matter when he started to love you. All that matters is that he doesn’t stop.

Kinich thinks he’ll love you forever.

[itgirldraco]

do you have any fic recs?

yes!! so many!! please check the tags for each!

all time favorites:

way down we go: an absolute classic. werewolf harry, chronically ill utterly miserable draco, post-war in small town america. enemies to lovers slowburn with protective harry and hopelessly gay draco.

in hopes that you may drown: SO much of my art is based on this author's harry and draco. such a lovely fic. post-war, draco raising delphi and absolutely perfecting the stressed yoga mom vibe. harry is instantly smitten.

in our blood: about haunted houses, parenthood and growing to care for each other. I love this one.

you'll still find stone: arranged marriage. draco expects the worst and harry is an absolute sweetheart. angst but so heartwarming. (mind the tags!!)

ANYTHING by corvetteclaire! their blood link and in the mirror series are severely underrated and genuinely took my breath away. some of my favorite writing and plots.

inside grey eyes: so so beautiful. quite dark and yet exceptionally hopeful. all about draco's recovery from a nightmare situation and harry's unending support. (mind the tags!!)

anything by tessa crowley!! an absolute gem in the fandom with an impressive variety of works.

the mirror of ecidyrue series: perfection.

in your arms, rests my world: “You make me feel safe, Potter. You keep me safe.” yeah..yeah. (mind the tags!!)

anything by toxik_angel tbh..one of my favorites is infairitance even though it’s incomplete; fairy draco is a game changer

oxytocin: angst, angst, angst, and so much cuddling. slowburn in the best way possible.

Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm: i read this some time ago but i remember adoring it.

Diffraction Patterns (I Don't Know How to Forget You): another incredible old read .

everything by beloved @rockingrobin69 !! this is one my favorites ever i never stop thinking about it

fluff/humor:

manlet: PLEASE read this one! so so cute and adorable and hilarious ft sweet giant harry and tiny angry draco and wickedly funny narcissa. will definitely open your eyes to small draco.

screw you: extremely funny and extremely hot.

like a star across my sky: SUCH a good fic! feels like a romcom.

title of their sex tape: as funny as it sounds.

flirt: really sweet. disaster flirty draco and awkward yet charmed harry.

married to a brute (ongoing): genius and hilarious

smut:

it beats me black and blue: absolute perfection. no notes.

let me roll it: so delicious. clueless mess draco and grumpy harry who hates everyone except draco.

his little something: size difference excellence

scenes of surrender: a combination of smut, love, recovery and caretaking

a perfect fit: hung harry and size queen draco

come up for air: veela draco

fawning for you: harry is completely obsessed with draco's videos. very cute, muggle setting.

burning the ground: creature fic

ongoing/other faves:

one elephant at a time (ongoing): i recommend this fic to EVERYONE. genuinely incredible. think yellow wallpaper, jane eyre, crush by richard siken, and the author mentions being inspired by my dark vanessa as well. so essentially a modern romance with a dark gothic backstory. every single sentence in this fic stands out to me. every characterization, every conversation, is just so honest and genuine. also!! draco has a cat called lady di!! and he loves to wear earrings! (mind the tags!!)

within the hollow crown: more of pre-drarry tbh. such an interesting plot!! harry grudgingly cares for an increasingly spiraling draco who is except under close and constant watch by the dark lord-every second of his sixth year. currently has an ongoing sequel.

imperfection (ongoing): another fic by robin! and another of my all time favorites, so so lovingly written and so tragic and lovely and heartbreaking. really digs into draco's psych and his manic mindset and constant spiral BUT there is light at the end of the tunnel and so much love surrounding him even though it's hard for him to see it. (mind the tags!!)

saviour series (ongoing): wouldn't necessarily call this drarry? more of a stockholm syndrome gothic novel type of fic but i recommend it all the same. the writing is truly extraordinary and the pacing is incredible. will leave you breathless. part one is complete. (mind the tags!!)

perspective series (ongoing): the original books with alpha harry, omega draco in gryffindor, and an adorable friendship dynamic between the golden trio and draco. really sweet, and super interesting. no romance as of yet but there are little moments.

tales of the potters: very interesting take on the arranged marriage trope! i recommend all of this author's works; they have a gorgeous way with words and their work really brings harry and draco to life.

the veiled boy (ongoing): one of the most intriguing recent fics i've read. really delves into character dynamics in such a realistic and refreshing way and draco is so endearing in it. every chapter has gorgeous illustrations.

never in extremity: reread this one recently. equal parts heartbreaking and heartwarming. (mind the tags!!)

[littlelamy]

the aftermath of the fight: s1!rafe x reader

the tension in the cameron estate was thick, almost suffocating, clinging to every corner of the house. the echoes of raised voices were still fresh in your ears as you made your way down the corridor toward rafe’s room. the fight between him and ward had been explosive—a storm of bitter accusations, angry words, and the unmistakable sound of glass shattering. both men had walked away from it bruised, emotionally and physically.

you’d hesitated for a moment, but the silence that followed the chaos made your decision for you. rafe was volatile after moments like this, and the thought of him alone in that headspace made your heart ache.

the door to his room was slightly ajar. you pushed it open softly, stepping inside. the sight before you was both heartbreaking and infuriating. rafe sat on the edge of his bed, fists clenched tight, knuckles white. his face, usually sharp and full of confidence, was clouded with something darker—anger and pain, mingled with exhaustion.

“hey,” you called softly, keeping your voice gentle. “you need anything?”

his head snapped up, eyes meeting yours with a mix of frustration and something softer, more vulnerable. “what the hell are you doing here?” he snapped, voice rough and raw.

you took a deep breath, swallowing the sting his words left. “i’m here to help, rafe. i heard what happened. you’re hurt.”

he scoffed, turning his head away, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “i don’t need your pity.”

ignoring his harshness, you crossed the room and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. he flinched at your touch but didn’t pull away. “i’m not here to pity you,” you said softly. “i just want to make sure you’re okay.”

you knelt in front of him, taking his hands into yours, carefully turning them over to inspect the bruises and cuts that marked his skin.

“shit,” he muttered, wincing as you gently touched one of the scrapes. “this is a mess.”

“i know,” you replied, your tone soothing despite the tension in the air. “but we’ll fix it. let me help.”

he stared at you for a long moment, the frustration in his gaze slowly softening into something like resignation. “why the hell do you put up with me?” he asked quietly, voice barely audible. “i’m a mess.”

you sighed, reaching for the antiseptic. “because i care about you, rafe. and you’re more than just the anger or the pain.”

he looked away, the faintest blush creeping up his neck, shame weighing heavy on his expression. “i just wanted to prove something to him,” he mumbled. “i wanted him to see i’m not just some...”

you waited, dabbing the cloth on one of his cuts. “not just some what?”

“not just some disappointment,” he finished, the words heavy in the quiet room.

you shook your head, continuing to clean his wounds. “you’re not a disappointment, rafe. you’re just... hurting. and that’s okay. it doesn’t make you any less.”

he let out a low groan, eyes squeezing shut in frustration. “i hate this,” he muttered. “i hate feeling so...so weak.”

you paused, looking at him with a firmness he needed to hear. “you’re not weak. it takes strength to admit you’re struggling. and more to let someone help you.”

his hands trembled slightly in yours, and you could see the cracks forming in the walls he always built so high. the vulnerability in him was raw and real, and it tugged at your heart.

“why are you always so damn good to me?” he muttered, half exasperated, half grateful. “i don’t deserve it.”

you finished bandaging the worst of the cuts, sitting back on your heels. “maybe you don’t think you deserve it, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need it.”

he looked at you, eyes filled with something between frustration and relief. “you really mean that?”

you nodded, leaning up to pull him into a hug. his hesitation lasted only a moment before he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight, almost like he was scared to let go. the embrace was intense, charged with emotion—his anger, your care, and a shared understanding.

as you pulled back slightly, your gaze locked with his, an unspoken tension hanging in the air. the kiss that followed was slow at first, your lips barely brushing his. but then, it deepened, the softness giving way to something more passionate, more urgent. his hands found your face, holding you close as he poured everything into that kiss—his regret, his need, his longing for something more than what his life had been up to now.

when you finally pulled away, both of you were breathing heavily, the intensity of the moment still lingering between you. rafe’s eyes were softer now, a little lighter, like the weight he carried had lessened, even if just a little.

“thank you,” he whispered, his voice quiet but sincere. “for being here... for putting up with me.”

you smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “i wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

for a moment, the world outside faded away. the fights, the pain, the weight of everything that had happened—it didn’t matter. in that small, quiet space, it was just the two of you, connected in a way that made the chaos of life feel a little more bearable.

[mikkomacko]

Him and I - Soul Bound

Mob!Nico x reader

Warnings: some angst, but mostly cute. Mentions of death, of heartbreak.

Previous part

A/n: I apologize for how long this took me! I really really hope it was worth the wait haha. I’ll be editing and proofing later but wanted to get it out for y’all. Enjoy!

————————————————————————

Blinking softly, Nico breathes in the scent of your shampoo, the soft strands of your hair warm with each puff of air he exhales. Snowflakes scatter the streetlights coming in the bedroom window, the night clouds dumping snow on the ground. He thinks of you, contemplates waking you up so you can see it for just a moment. You love the snow, love how soft and quiet everything seems during the winter.

You’d love this storm. The flakes are big and fat, building up on the windowsill like something out of a movie.

Nico buries the tip of his nose further into your hair, restraining himself from rousing you. You need to sleep, need to get better so he can take you home. So that you’ll both get your normal lives back.

His thumb rubs circles over your hip, trying to soothe you while also lull himself back to sleep. He’s not sure what woke him. It could be the two wedding rings he has hidden in this bedroom, one that you’re very aware of. It could be the lingering bruises and cuts on your skin, marks that taunt Nico. Or it could be the fact that this entire trip has derailed his relationship with you.

He expected to leave here with a fiancée. Now he’ll be lucky if he leaves here with a girlfriend that still wants the pendant around her neck.

Swallowing heavily, Nico closes his eyes and pushes the thought out his head. You’ve picked him a million times over, he shouldn’t be scared that suddenly you wouldn’t do it again.

“Nico,” you murmur, voice just a whimper and it startles him. His body goes rigid, arms tightening around you and he cranes his neck to look down at the top of your head.

“I’m here darling, what’s wrong?”

Fingertips trail over your forehead, brushing out of place baby hairs away. You stir, heavy eyelids fighting to flutter open as his palm settles on the side of your neck, fingers lightly squeezing in encouragement. Fingers that can cause so much damage but touch you like you’re a precious pearl.

“I had a bad dream,” you finally whisper, shaken. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, guilt settling like a stone in his gut. Unable to look at you, he focuses back on the bedroom window.

“Got you,” he swears “I’ve got you baby, you’re ok.”

Your back shifts under his hands, ribs expanding as you inhale deeply and blow out a rattled breath. Then you do it again, the puff of air hot on his bare chest. Finally, you settle.

Not for long though. Shuffling, you push yourself up until you’re straddling his waist, weight heavy on his stomach and thighs but welcome. Knuckling at your sleepy eyes, you blink sluggishly at him.

“Why are you up handsome?”

He shrugs, smiling softly at the sweet name. Your fingers reach out for him, gentle and tickling as you push a strand of hair off his forehead.

“Was watching the snow fall and thinking about you.” Nico admits, voice just a whisper. Like a bolt of electricity has gone through you, you perk up, eyes brightening.

“Snowing?”

Pursing his lips to keep from laughing, Nico nods against the pillow. You duck your head down, rolling your lips inwards and trying to hide that beautiful smile from him. His heart swells with love, thumping painfully in his chest. Hands running up and down either side of your waist, he finally gives.

“Come on, let’s go outside.”

~~~~

It’s like a dream. The buttery glow of the street lights on the fresh snow, reflecting off your smiling cheeks that have turned pink in the cold.

The fabric of your snow pants swish as you waddle away from him, snow crunching loudly under both of your boots.

Clouds of fog dance in front of Nico’s eyes, thickening as he huffs and puffs after you. Stumbling after you, Nico lazily tosses the snowball in his gloved hands. It smacks you square in the back, and you squeal dramatically.

Nico stops as you whirl around, scooping up your own snowball and he hides behind his arms as you throw it into his chest. Flakes of snow drift up to his chin and cheeks, biting cold but he laughs anyway.

“Right in the heart baby?” He gasps, clutching at his pec. “Ouch.”

You pout, locking your hands together under your chin. “Oh no poor baby Nico.” You tease, a wicked grin morphing on your lips as you quickly scoop up more snow and run at him.

Tossing the half formed snowball into his stomach, you laugh evilly and try to duck around him. Luckily Nico has quick reflexes and manages to wrap his arms around you, lifting you up and swinging you in a circle.

Clutching at his hands and arms, you squeal and giggle, snow boots and legs drifting through the air. Nico keeps swaying you back and forth until his biceps burn from holding you and his stomach and cheeks ache from laughing.

“Cold?”He asks after your feet are back on the ground, the ice cold tip of his nose nudging your cheek.

“Yeah,” you pant out, still trying to catch your breath. The two of you haven’t gone far from the house. You’re still close enough that if any of the boys are light sleepers they definitely heard you laughing and play fighting. Not that Nico cares.

This is his house and he can do as he pleases on the property. Hell if he wanted to walk around buck naked he’s more than welcome to do so.

However, it is getting late (or early, he supposes) so he nudges you back towards the house with two hands on your waist. You move in silence alongside him, kicking snow off your boots on the porch before huddling into the entryway. Like a well oiled machine you seamlessly strip out of your snow clothes and layers, leaving them abandoned in heaps in front of the door to be dealt with in the morning.

Nico’s gotten down to his socks, a pair of boxers, and his shirt when you suddenly crowd into his chest, hands holding his face tenderly as you guide him down into a kiss. Like its second nature he holds you, arms snaking around your torso and lifting you to your toes so he can kiss you back.

It’s then that he realizes you’ve taken off almost everything, the only piece of clothing left on your body the soft pair of cotton underwear that brushes against his pinky finger.

Your skin is warm and soft, soothing against his thawing fingertips as he runs a hand up your spine, fingers gripping your hair.

Head fuzzy, Nico groans when you push your chest tight against his, sweetly nudging at his bottom lip with your tongue.

“Baby,” he murmurs gently, every part of him aching to just lay you down on the stupidly soft fur rug just across the way and have his way with you. But he can’t bring himself too, even if his dick is starting to thicken up in interest.

You must be able to tell by his tone, eyes fluttering open and swollen lips brushing against his. Gaze switching between his eyes, you stroke at the scruffy hairs of his beard.

“Are you ever going to stop looking at me like I’m hurt?”

It’s not accusatory. Or angry. Or even disappointed. Your tone is curious, like you’re simply asking him if he still likes coffee ice cream.

“You’re all healed up, I know.” He assures quietly, but earnestly. “And as badly as I want to make you feel good on me, I can’t until I’m certain that you’re all healed up inside too.”

Something warm and tender settles in your features, lifting the corners of your lips in a bittersweet smile.

“I know,” you whisper, slowly stepping back from him. He’s sure you’ve lost your top somewhere in the mess clothes beneath your feet, so he tugs off his own t-shirt, straightening out the sleeve. You duck your head down when he holds it open to you, helping you pull it down over your shoulders and torso.

Nico holds you again, desperate to feel you against him. His favorite thing in the world is getting to hold you close to him.

You lay your head on his shoulder, left arm squished between your two bodies and right hand innocently fiddling with the waistband of his boxers.

Bashfully, you say, “I don’t know how to be, though. I’m so mad at Timo, and I’ve never been mad at him before. And then I feel bad because I’m not mad you but I should be if I’m mad at him. But I don’t even know why I’m mad.”

Nico hums, swallowing thickly. You maybe should be mad at him. He knows he didn’t handle the situation well, knows he let his fear get ahold of him and he shut you down to protect you. Instead of using this as a chance to make you stronger and smarter, he put you in metaphorical bubble wrap.

“Yes you do,” he finally responds. “You just won’t say it because you don’t think it justifies how upset you are. But it does baby, and you have every right to feel that way.”

You sniffle. “Ok.”

He shakes his head fondly, amused by your lack of response and knowing that it simply means you’re really listening to him.

“But Timo has his own justifications for what he did and until you hear his side of it, you’ll both just be angry at each other.”

Your hand runs up his stomach, fingers cold on his skin and you teasingly pinch at the fat on his lower belly. “When did you get so smart?”

Looking up at him with twinkling eyes and an amused grin, Nico presses a soft kiss between your eyes.

“When I met you.”

~~~~

Nico’s arm is heavy on your shoulders as the two of you descend the stairs. It’s obvious that last nights snowy adventure has left you two exhausted if the dragging feet and yawns are anything to go by.

Chatter, the noisy clattering of pans and silverware travel from the kitchen. Sharing a curious look with Nico, you stop in the entryway and blink twice to make sure you’re not still sleeping.

Mercer is standing over the stove, a pan of bacon popping and sizzling in front of him. Luke is looming over the toaster, a loaf of bread in hand and a pile of toast stacked on a plate. At the bar top, Timo is elegantly slicing through tomatoes, carefully watching Alex in front of him who is doing his best to replicate Timo’s technique. And Jack sits with them, nimble fingers tearing apart a head of lettuce and laying the leafs out on a platter.

Mouth parted in shock, Mercer turns around, a spatula with greasy bacon in hand. He freezes when he spots you two, eyes wide and caught. You realize he’s wearing a white apron that reads “I ♥️ fondue” and wonder if it’s Timo’s or Nico’s.

“Morning sleepyheads.” He greets, bacon dripping grease onto the floor. Beside you, Nico sighs and drags a hand across his face.

“Mess, Merc.” He grumbles, more tired than annoyed or angry.

Mercer makes a noise of surprise, rushing to the island counter and laying the strips of bacon out on a platter. Nico removes his arm from you, grabbing the dish towel off the oven rack and moving to clean up the mess.

“Thanks boss,” Mercer grins, going back to his post at the stove. Nico grunts in acknowledgment, haphazardly throwing the rag into the sink as he heads towards the corner where the coffee pot is nestled.

One track minded for his morning caffeine, Nico putters around silently, dipping in and out of cabinets.

Rubbing your eyes, you look at the other boys. Jack is still going about his business of arranging lettuce pieces but he’s got a shit eating grin on his face, watching Nico intently. You already know he’s waiting for his boss to perk up so he can make some crude remarks or guesses at why the both of you slept in today.

Avoidant, Timo is locked in on the task of slicing tomatoes but you can tell he’s distracted. He’s slowed down, hands moving like molasses as if he’s putting more effort into not looking around than he is cutting vegetables.

Alex however, is watching you. He’s still holding his knife and half cut tomato in his hands, but they sit limp on the counter top. He angles himself towards you, gaze hesitant.

“I tried to make your matcha for you. It’s in the fridge. Not sure how good it is though.”

As usual, he just warms your heart. They couldn’t even make a cup of coffee for Nico, they’re boss, and yet Alex took the time to make you matcha before he started on breakfast BLTs with the rest of them.

“Thanks,” you smile, “M’sure it’s fine. If Nico can make it, anyone can.”

Now leaning against the counter next to Luke, Nico glares at you over the rim of his coffee mug. Even so he looks cute, all puffy eyes and messy hair, thick eyebrows pinched together.

You clear your throat, smiling drooping as you soak in how awkward it feels to be around all of them. How Luke still hasn’t said a word and that’s weird of him. Neither has Jack, and that’s so out of character it’s detrimentally concerning.

And poor Alex who looks like he’s just swallowed a buzzing alarm clock, who has never been holy at handling conflict between those he loves. Guilty, you’re moving before you can even think about it.

Timo must see you coming though because he drops everything in his hands, turning just right that you fit perfectly into the seam of his shoulder when you throw your arms around him.

He’s bigger than Nico, just a hair taller and a bit thicker, but the two of you are like pieces of the same puzzle. Different than you and Nico, but just as perfect.

The hug doesn’t say everything you need it to, but it says enough. You can tell by the way he sighs in relief, breath hot on the top of your head and he melts into you. Your fingers cling to his back, holding him tightly and desperately and it feels like the more you cling to him the tighter he squeezes you around the shoulders.

Closing your watering eyes, you puff out a weighted breath. “Please tell me you helped him make that matcha?” You whisper, just loud for Timo to hear. You can feel his laugh on your skin.

“Of course I did.”

~~~~

Picking at the sleeve of your cable knit sweater, you look from Nico to Timo, lips pursed. Your sat on the freshly made bed, legs crossed over each other in front of you and that teddy bear from Nico’s childhood bedroom resting by your feet.

Timo clears his throat uncomfortably, sat in the large windowsill across from the bed. The sky behind him is bright and blue, showing off after a night of dumping snow in the town. It hurts your eyes a bit to look at it, stabs at the tender spot behind your right eye.

Nico is slowly pacing by the side of the bed. Not anxiously or uneasy, but in a way that makes you feel both of those. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, the string of his hoodie bitten between his teeth.

Every once in awhile he looks up from his feet, looks at Timo like he can’t really decide what to do with him. Then he looks at you, and his eyes go all gentle and soft, and his lips lift just the slightest bit. Then he looks back at his feet and paces.

“Um Schoa?”

He stops, looks up at you expectantly. “Hi, wanna sit for a second?” You ask politely, patting the bed next to you. His brow furrows.

“Why?”

Laughing, you say, “So that I can hold your hand when I tell you that we don’t need a mediator.”

Across the room Timo chuckles. Nico’s head snaps over to glare at him and Timo hides his smile behind his hand, pretending to scratch above his lip.

Climbing to your knees, you shuffle to the end of the bed until you can reach Nico, taking his hands in yours. Your touch pulls his attention from Timo, gaze going tender as it falls on you. You almost melt at the way his head tilts ever so slightly and his thumbs rub at the back of your hands.

“I know that I just…”

“Just what?” You encourage.

His next breath comes out slow and calculated, eyebrows pinching ever so slightly as he thinks. “I’m trying to decide if I should make you two wait to do this and take you with me to Luca’s.”

The investigation (and subsequent interrogation) that had taken place after Lena and Marcello abducted you was officially completed a few days ago. Luca has been waiting for you to heal before he wanted to go over the run down and findings with Nico.

You know why Nico is so torn up about making you and Timo go. He’s trying to open the work side of the family to you, just as you’d asked him to do. He wants you to feel included, to know that he’s not trying to hide this.

But at the same time, you’re relationship with Timo is more important to you than knowing why and what happened that day in his grandfathers old house.

Besides, it makes your skin crawl thinking about having to watch security footage, hear stories and records taken during interrogation with Luca and the rest of the boys around. Probably Nina too, and whatever men they have tailing them.

Embarrassing, you decide. It would so embarrassing to look them in the eye after they’ve seen you at your weakest.

“I want to hear it from you,” you say, fingers tightening around his palms. “Just you, please.”

He reads you so well. Can tell immediately why you don’t want to go, that you only trust him enough to relive that day with him. No one else.

“Ok,” Nico agrees easily, right hand letting go of yours to cradle the back of your head. He ducks down and presses a comforting peck to your forehead. “I promise I’ll tell you everything we find, show you whatever you want after ok?”

He straightens out, smoothes his hand over the top of your head and looks to Timo.

“You’ll be updated too,” Nico tells him. “As long as you keep her safe and happy today, deal?”

Your best friend scoffs. “That’s literally my job description. Along with being hot.”

His words make you giggle, the sound so unexpected you press into Nico’s stomach to stifle the sound into his hoodie. You know better than to laugh when Nico is talking business, but sometimes those boys get the best of you.

And as much as Nico pretends it annoys him, you know he likes to see how happy the family makes you. You can tell by the way he softly tugs at the roots of your hair, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you look up at him. He’s fighting back an amused grin when you do.

“Come on Schao,” you mumble. “Get outta here, it’s Timo time.”

~~~~

Snow crunching under your boots, you sip at your latte, wincing when the foam burns the tip of your tongue, but too impatient to wait for it to cool.

To the left of you, Timo has popped the lid off of his drink, swirls of steam billowing up into the frigid air and he’s cautiously blowing to cool the liquid down.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye, the two of you strolling lackadaisically through the streets of town. After a moment he takes a deep breath, gloved hand shoving the lid back on his latte. He takes a sip.

“I’m sorry that I left you in the hospital that day,” he finally says, voice quiet like he’s unsure of what to even say. “I should’ve told Nico that you could handle it.”

“Do you really believe that?” You ask, “or are you just saying that now?”

He frowns, lips pursuing. He looks like he’s fighting himself on what to say and you’re unsure if that’s a bad thing or not.

“When Nico came me to that day and told me he lost you, it was like the ground fell out beneath me,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know how Nico kept his cool, but I mean he’s always been good at knowing what to do and when to do it.

“So when he said it wasn’t the best idea to let you at Lena and stuff, I trusted him-“

“You should’ve trusted me.” You cut in, the reminder of him picking Nico over you making your temper flare.

“I know I know,” Timo concedes, holding a hand out to stop you at the streets crosswalk. He checks both ways before nodding you along. “But I was scared and I just-I couldn’t-I didn’t trust myself.”

The sidewalk under your feet feels slick, and you reach out to link your arm through Timo’s. He’s sturdy, locking your arm under his bicep and slipping his hand into his pocket.

“What do you mean?”

Timo sighs heavily, breath shaking with the weight of it. “It was my job to train you, to prepare you to be Nico’s prinzessin and I failed. Somewhere along the way, something you were supposed to know didn’t click and I didn’t make sure that it did. And then all of this happened.

“I did this to you and Nico!”

He’s stopped walking now, angled himself towards you. His eyes are wet and red when they meet yours, the sadness in them colder than the winter temperatures.

“I had to side with him. It was the only thing that felt right after I screwed up so badly. You know Nico, he can fix literally anything.”

You wrench your arm out of his hold, rising to your toes and throwing it around his neck into a bruising hug.

Timo tucks his face into your shoulder, shoulders hunching down to meet your height. Blinking away the tears in your own eyes, you look up at the bright blue sky and focus on the puffy clouds drifting by.

“I had a panic attack,” you murmur weakly. “At the party. Nico and I were fighting, it felt like he was so far away and I just freaked. It was like I was on autopilot, I just went outside to catch my breath.”

You swallow thickly, choking back tears. “As soon as the world around me came back I realized what I did and tried to go back but-“

“Don’t say it,” he cuts off, voice strained and broken. “Don’t tell me how they hurt you.”

“I should’ve been ready,” you continue instead. “Everything they did I went over with you a million times. At least everything I can remember them doing. B-but it was like my head was exploding. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t see.

“My head hurt so badly. I could feel the instructions and lessons right there but nothing was clicking. All I could think about was Nico, how much I wanted him there.”

The air is colder on your cheeks now, and you realize it’s the wet trails of tears that burn. You tuck into Timo shoulders, wet eyelashes fluttering shut to hide from the world.

“I failed Timo. You and Nico prepared me, I just couldn’t do it.”

The arm around your middle squeezes, so tightly it takes your breath away. “That’s not true,” he utters, earnestly. “You didn’t fail. You showed all of us up, you got Luca to side with you. You got the boys out here.

“You showed me and Nico that you know how to lead, all on your own.”

His assurance is like warm water trickling on your head, trailing down into your bones. It’s soothing, calming to hear. Especially from him, from your best friend in the entire world. And he’s a people pleaser, he’ll tell anyone anything they want to hear. This, however, is sincere.

You can tell by the way he looks down at you after you’ve released him from your hug, baby blue eyes certain and steady.

He holds his arm out to you. “M’sorry I didn’t listen to you before.”

“I’m sorry I shut down on you,” you apologize, taking his arm like before. He nods down the street.

“Come on. I want to show you something.”

~~~~

The room is so silent, Nico thinks he could hear snowflakes hitting the roof of the building if he really listened. If it weren’t for the sound of Holtzy breathing so shakily, angrily.

Nico knows the feeling.

The large display screen in Luca’s conference room has gone dark, reflecting a distorted image of them gathered around the table. Nico doesn’t really see that picture. No, he still sees Marcello tying to the chair, how harshly your limo body was thrown down and manipulated with rope. He can still see the way your head lulled, even after you woke up. The way you tried to move and he’s not sure if the bindings stopped you or the fact that you looked like you couldn’t even identify your own limbs.

He can still see the blood that smattered the floor when Lena hit you. Can see and hear the way you cried when Marcello touched you.

Nico never got the footage of the warehouse in Philly when you taken the first time. He had no way of accessing it, especially after he lit the place on fire. He’s thankful for that now.

If he can’t stand to see this, he would’ve died seeing that.

“All of that because she wanted Nico?”

It’s Luke who speaks up first, lips curled in disdain as he looks away from the screen to Luca. The older Hischier sibling looks guilty as he nods, bringing a fist to his mouth as he clears his throat.

“She wanted the business. And the only way to get that for her was through Nico.”

The phones they’d taken and unlocked from Marcello and Lena lay on the oak table in front of him, message threads pulled up. Nico doesn’t need to read them again. Doesn’t need to see another video, hear anymore audio. The story is clear cut.

Lena convinced Marcello that you were using Nico, that you wanted to infiltrate the family from the inside where’d you’d be able to take over both Luca and Nina’s territory.

Marcello believed her, spurred by the fact that they never saw you in a Devs pendant or with a ring. Because in the states, those marks are subtle and hidden. Yours is always tucked under your shirt.

Unlike in Switzerland, where a pendant is always flaunted, every outfit centered around the piece of gold.

And then they devised a plan. One carefully laid out in a text thread between the two the same night Nico took you to Luca’s bar. The same night that you had a run with Lena, apparently. Her friends said something to Luca about it, his camera picked up the moment in front of the bathroom, and Nina confirmed it.

Nico had no idea about it. Hadn’t even known his ex-whatever was even back in town. He can’t believe he didn’t notice. He’s usually so attentive, so analytic of his whereabouts. He’d let his guard down that night too. Because he was so happy to see his siblings, to see you fit right into that booth in the bar with his sister and at the pool table with Luca.

He remembers holding you that night in the bar. Loving and kissing on you in a way he doesn’t normally do in public. How he swayed you to his favorite song and held your waist when helping you line up the queue ball. The way he whispered stupid little things into your ear just to get you to giggle and curl into him, give him a reason to press sweet kisses to your neck and cheeks.

Lena most of noticed. Must of seen how fucking in love he is with you. He never took her to his family’s places, never played her any songs he liked, never tried to make her laugh.

It makes him nauseous to think that someone took that love and used it to hurt you. That she saw him with you and decided that was reason enough to put you in the hospital, to articulate a plan that would take you out of his life forever.

Because that was the intention.

It’s written out in front of him. Kidnap you, use you as bait to get a private meeting with Nico. And when he’d get there by himself, Marcello would have the barrel of his pistol to your temple and Nico would barely get to say your name before he’d pull the trigger.

And Lena would throw herself at him, threaten to turn him in for treason if he didn’t agree to get back with her. She’d tell his whole family how you were using them, say Nico was in on it, and that would be it.

“She should’ve killed her,” Holtzy mutters, and Nico can’t say he disagrees with him. There was a reason he was saving Marcello and Lena after their interrogation. He wanted to have the whole story before he decided what to do.

You took matters into your own hands though, and Nico now thinks that was merciful of you. Because he’d hurt them in ways they could never imagine if he had the chance to now.

All of this because Marcello couldn’t think to check around your fucking neck for a ring or pendant before he strangled you with Nico’s scarf.

“Alex,” Nina breathes in disappointment, lips parted like she wants to scold him or defend you letting Lena live.

“She should’ve,” Nico agrees, so angry it burns his skin, claws at his throat. “She should’ve fucking killed all of us. When we left her at that hospital, when we lied to her.”

He looks over at his boys, at Holtzy who’s always been so fiercely defensive and protective of you it rivals Nico. At Luke and Jack who tease the two of you, who tell you that you can do better and love to drive the two of you crazy but still flew out here last minute because they believe in you. And Mercer who’s always so immature and playful, goofing off and acting like he’s still the 17 year old kid Nico brought into Jersey.

Mercer who worked with you and Luca to execute your plan of revenge. He stepped up lead, got them all together on that flight, was your second in command. The boys took orders from him that day, same as you.

He’s proud of them. Nico is so fucking proud of this group of kids that you turned into men.

“But she did what she thought was best, not what she wanted,” he tells Holtzy. “And we have to trust and accept that.”

The room goes quiet again. Luca takes his seat at the head of the table, running his hands through his hair. Nico locks the stolen phones, stacking them on top of each other and putting them in his hoodie pocket. In case you want to see them.

“I’m retraining,” Luca sighs. “All of my men. In phases every section is going through boot camp again. So that this never happens again Neeky.”

Nico nods, flashing a quick but grateful smile at his brother. He doesn’t blame Luca for this. He knows how Lena is -was- how conniving and controlling. She was so good at always playing the victim.

“We want to have a party kind of thing for you all before you head back to Jersey,” Luca nods towards the younger boys. “End on a happier note. I’ll shut down the bar for a night, have security still but it’ll be safer. Better.”

Nico takes a deep breath, tries to shake off how exhausting this meeting was. “We’ll be there.”

Nina is tapping her fingers on the table top, gaze burning into the side of Nico’s head. He looks over at her, raises an expectant eyebrow.

“When are you gonna do it?”

It. Propose. Nico winces.

“Do what?”

“What are you doing boss?”

Nico thinks the Hughes brothers could be twins with how in sync they always are, how they seem to have the same thoughts. He could kill Nina for bringing this up in front of them.

“Not here,” Nico mutters, looking away when Nina groans in frustration.

“You fought to get her back just to bail! Come on Nico, I saw you that day! You can’t let this scare you off.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching as he tries to keep his tone in check. He didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t want to be reminded that the whole purpose of this trip got hijacked and now he’s returning to the states with not just one, but two engagement rings. Neither of which are on your finger.

“M’not gonna do this to her here, Nina.”

“Why not?” She presses. “What could be better? She loves it here, you heard her.”

His temper flares, exploding out of him like boiling oil. “No I heard her screaming and crying as she was tortured!

“I watched her fight for her life in a place she was supposed to be happy. So no I’m not pulling out a ring, and looking her in the eye and explaining that the picture perfect proposal she asked for was lost because I left her alone for five minutes, but please marry me anyway. Sorry I’m asking in my brother’s sticky bar.”

Nico’s chest heaves, angry puffs of air rattling out of him as he sinks back into his chair. He rakes a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands painfully for some kind of release.

He can feel the eyes of all them, watching him like he might start yelling again.

“Boss,” Mercer mumbles cautiously, “she’d still marry you, you know that.”

Nico sighs, nods. “Yeah I know. She told me she still wants to. I just-I have to do it right. And it’s not right anymore.”

“Neeky, you could pull out a ring pop in the bathroom of the bar and that girl would still say yes to you.”

Nina is right. He knows she’s right. You told him that as long as he had the ring and was on his knee, you’d say yes.

But that’s not the point. The point is that he wanted it to be a big deal. Something he planned out, put thought into every detail. He wanted you to see the intention. That way you know he’s doing this because he wants to. Because he wants you.

“I know,” he mutters, the sound of you calling yourself a Hischier on that tape echoing in his head. The last name isn’t officially yours yet, but it’s yours in every sense of the word. “It’s not about her saying yes, I know she’ll say yes. It’s about me…”

Showing her.

He has to show you. Because he’s not great at saying things. He’s better with actions.

“It’s fine,” Nico dismisses, “I’ll figure something out.”

~~~~

Kids laughing and chattering fills the air, echoing around the large skating rink. Timo had bypassed the skate rentals desk when you came in, instead guiding you straight towards the upper stands.

You don’t know why he’s bringing you here, or why he’s staying so far from the actual ice, but you follow him anyway.

The sound of skates scraping the ice flitters up into the rafters, and you glance over to find a group of excited kids skating messily around the rink.

Timo sits dead center in the row, holding down your seat for him and you gladly take it, propping up your half-drank latte on your thigh. You look down, watch the kids skate and notice a woman among them. Beautiful red hair in a thick and loose braid, a black and white skating costume on, the sleeves and pants glittering with gems under the bright lights.

“Nico and I learned to skate here,” Timo says, crossing his foot over his knee and relaxing back into his seat like muscle memory. You wonder how many times he’s come here, probably sat in this exact same seat for some reason.

“It’s a nice rink,” you say, looking over. He’s looking at the ice so intently you think his gaze might magically melt it, create little pools of slush. No, he’s not looking at the ice, you realize, he’s looking at her. At the beautiful red head that’s now gathering the children in a circle for stretches.

“When we were about 13, this girl moved here. Went to our school and everything. She got on well with Nico. We would come here after school everyday, when we were putting off assignments especially. Luca would buy us tickets for the train and we’d come with him because he skated better.

“One day she was here too. And it was like nothing, the way she’d just join us. Never hockey, but she’d skate with us. And she was so beautiful, that way she moved, the way she opened up when she got on the ice…”

His voice has gone soft, distant like he’s lost in this vivid memory of this old friend. You take in the lovesick look on his face, so clear even from just his side profile, and it clicks. He brought you here because that girl on the ice right now is the girl he’s telling you about.

The girl he’d left here. The one Nico briefly mentioned to you once, a few years back when you asked him why Timo, with his beautiful blue eyes and his sweet smile, never went out on dates.

“Timo’s heart is back in Switzerland,” Nico had explained. “His girl is still there, I think.”

You reach over, lay your hand over his in his lap and he blinks, his fingers relaxing under your hold. “Her parents didn’t like us. They knew about Nico and his family, about how I was training with him too. Nico’s grandfather wasn’t the nicest person, hell Rino and Katja are like saints compared to his grandfather.

“So they told her to stay away from us. But she didn’t. Everyday she got on the train with us, sat right next to me and would pull out this cucumber snacks her mother made. She always had them for me. And I started bringing her stuff too. Chocolate and sweets from around my house. She has a sweet tooth but her mother never let her have it. Said it would make her unhealthy.”

Timo laughed quietly to himself, like he still can’t believe her parents were like that. Or maybe at his own rebelliousness, how he went directly against them to make her happy.

“That’s really sweet Timo,” you murmur, smiling to yourself. You’ve known he was a big softie, could’ve guessed that he’d be even worse when in love.

“Yeah, it was. We dated for a long time after that. Snuck around behind her parents back, even though we know they knew. But it was fun. And I was like a puppy in love…”

Something sad settles over his features, glosses over his eyes and he sighs softly.

You fill in the next part for him. “And then you left to Jersey with Nico.”

Timo puffs out his cheeks, nods just once. “I asked her to come with. Told her I’d marry her as soon as we got there. And she agreed, was ready to give up everything, even her figure skating career to come with me.

“But she wasn’t 18 yet and her parents could use that to stop her visa. They told her she couldn’t go with, they forbid it. And they threatened to disown her too.”

You laugh humorlessly, familiar with the abandonment of family. It makes you sad to think of her not even getting the chance to pick. Yeah it broke you to have to make a decision between Nico and your loved ones, but at least you had the agency to make that pick. Her parents never gave her that.

“Every time I’m here I come see her. Beg her to come with me. She’s not close to her parents anymore, but she never got over that teenage fear. And she has a career and a life here now. One without me.

“How am I supposed to ask her to give that up?”

He’s looking at you now, eyes glossy and begging, and it breaks your heart. You had no idea how tormented by love Timo has been all these years. That every year when he makes his annual trip home he tears open old wounds just to see his teenage sweetheart that he never got over.

Answers. He wants answers from you because you had been her before.

You swallow thickly, frowning sympathetically at him. “Tell her that,” you advise. “Tell her how much it hurts you to ask her to give that life up. And if she really loves you, it won’t matter.

“It’s not exactly a sacrifice if what you’re getting in return is far better in the end.”

“Is that how it was?” He asks. “For you and Nico?”

It’s not even a question you have to think about, nodding as your lips curl into a loving smile. “Yeah it was. Nico told me he’d never want to make me choose, but my family wanted me to. And no one who really loves you would make you choose.”

Timo sniffles, blinking back his tears and turning back to the rink. “I don’t want her to pick, I just want her to be happy. And I know she loves me still. Every time I’m home we fall back into who we were when I left. Like no time has ever passed.”

You can’t help but ache for him. So you lean your head against his shoulder, hold his hand to let him know you’re here for him, always.

“You know, for being my best friend, you kept this from me for a long time.”

Timo chuckles, squeezing your fingers in acknowledgment. “I wanted her to myself for a bit longer. And I knew if I told you you’d come flying over here in that jet to get her to come to Jersey.”

On the ice, the beautiful red head looks up from her lesson, immediately finding Timo in the stands. You were right, this must be his spot in the rink, some seat of significance.

Timo lifts his free hand, waving at her and she effortlessly skates a little flourish, wiggling her fingers back at him with a smile so wide you can see it from all the way up here.

You and Nico have your love story, you decide, and now it’s time for Timo to have his too. Whether it’s convincing him to stay here with her or convincing her to come home with him, you’ll do whatever it takes.

[chrzzboo]

Could you write something about Mason where he is the father of Twins (both boys) and when they win an important game or something like that he plays with his children and all the fans find him super cute?

My little family

Note: two posts in two days?! Who this? I really wanted to try and write more especially now that I have the time. Thanks anon for your request, also with this being said requests are open again. Hope you guys like it!

Reader x Mason Mount

Genre: fluff

Mason padded quietly through the kitchen, a sleepy smile on his face as he watched his wife, Y/N, prepare breakfast. The tantalizing scent of pancakes filled the air, and the sound of giggles from the next room indicated that his twin boys were already up.

He moved to the playroom, where his sons, who were just shy of their third birthday, were happily playing. Their infectious laughter and excited babbles sent a wave of warmth through his heart, and he couldn't help but join in, pretending to be a monster as they squealed with delight.

As Y/N called them from the kitchen, Mason lifted each twin with ease, planting a kiss on their rosy cheeks before carrying them to the table. Breakfasts were always a boisterous affair, filled with giggles, flying bits of pancake, and requests for more juice. Mason and Y/N exchanged amused glances, both silently cherishing these chaotic mornings.

Mason loaded a fork with a bite of pancake and teased, "Who's a big boy now, eh?"

One twin, with a syrupy grin, pointed at himself and said, "Me!" while the other attempted to mimic the word, resulting in an adorable babble.

Y/N chuckled, wiping a smear of syrup from the second twin's face. "These two are going to be little heartbreakers, just like their father."

Mason feigned indignation, pretending to be wounded, "Just like their father? What about their mother?" He gestured towards Y/N with a dramatic flourish, eliciting another round of giggles from the twins.

Y/N rolled her eyes mock-exasperation, but her chuckle betrayed her amusement. "Alright, alright," she conceded, "I suppose they got their charm from both of us. It's a team effort."

Mason laughed, the sound bright and warm, while the twins clapped their hands, enjoying the laughter and banter between their parents.

As breakfast wrapped up, Mason scooped up a twin in each arm, balancing them precariously on his hips. Y/N shook her head at the sight, "I don't know how you manage to wrangle these two. It's like they've got a secret pact to be as messy as possible."

"It's a talent, love," he replied, grinning. "I've got the magic touch." He proceeded to tickle the tummies of each twin, making them squirm with laughter, their chubby fingers grasping his shirt.

Y/N just smiled, watching the joyous sight, "Well, whatever it is, it's working. They adore you."

"It's mutual," he said, planting a kiss on each of the twins' foreheads. "They're my boys, after all."

Mason set the twins down, and they immediately started scurrying off, eager to get into mischief.

"And they've got your energy too," Y/N said, shaking her head. "It's like trying to corral two hurricanes."

Mason chuckled again, moving behind Y/N and wrapping his arms around her. "You can handle it. You've got the patience of a saint." He planted a kiss on her neck, his stubble brushing softly against her skin.

She turned in his arms, facing him, her eyes sparkling with affection. "And you've got the charm to make everything seem manageable." Her hand reached up to caress his cheek, her thumb tracing the lines of his smile.

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, just looking at each other, before a commotion from the other room broke them out of their moment. The sound of a toy crashing to the floor, followed by the mischievous giggles of the twins, was a clear reminder that they had two little devils to deal with.

After the chaos of the morning had settled, Mason reluctantly prepared to leave for Old Trafford. He gave the twins hugs and kisses, warning them to behave for Y/N, to which they responded with messy kisses and laughter.

Mason cast a glance over his shoulder as he gathered his keys and gear, catching a tender look from Y/N. She smiled, her eyes reflecting the warmth of their family's love. "Give 'em hell, champ," she said, a hint of challenge in her voice.

He grinned back at her, appreciating her support and confidence. "You know it," he responded confidently. "I'll see you and the little lads in the stands later."

With a final kiss, he was out the door, leaving Y/N to manage the house, the twins, and a small mountain of parenting duties. She took a breath, bracing herself for the day ahead, and then turned to the twins, who were already on their way to some new mischief.

As the day wore on, the anticipation for the match grew. Y/N readied the twins, packing diapers, snacks, and their favorite toys. Just as the sun began to dip in the sky, they were en route to Old Trafford, the energy in the car escalating with every mile. And most importantly not forgetting to dress them in their football jerseys with their dads name on it.

Once they arrived, the atmosphere at the stadium was electric. Supporters milled about, the excitement palpable. As Y/N walked with the twins, she couldn't help but feel a flutter of nervousness and pride mixed together.

Finding their seats, they settled in, the twins on Y/N's lap, their eyes wide with wonder at the sea of fans, the green grass, and the massive structure of the stadium. They squirmed and pointed, taking in each sight, their innocent excitement adding to the atmosphere.

As the match started, Y/N leaned in to the twins, her voice both excited and soothing. "See that? That's daddy down there. He'll kick the ball into that big net, and we shout really loud, alright?"

The twins, completely absorbed in the spectacle, nodded along, their tiny faces filled with awe. "Daddy!" one chirped, followed by a babble that could've been an attempt at "Goal."

Y/N chuckled, her heart swelling with affection. "That's right, that's daddy. And when he does something great, we clap really loud and yell, 'Go, Daddy, go!' Can you say that?"

The twins, still a bit too young to fully grasp the words, responded with babbling attempts that were more giggles than coherent syllables. Y/N didn't mind; she knew they were caught up in the moment, their little faces reflecting the same excitement and admiration she felt for Mason.

The final whistle blew, and the stadium erupted into a frenzy. Mason's team had won, and the crowd was in a state of ecstatic celebration. Y/N, with the twins in her arms, pushed through the throngs of people, making her way to where the family section was heading onto the pitch.

As she neared the edge of the field, she could see Mason surrounded by his teammates, their faces gleaming with sweat and smiles. He spotted Y/N immediately and his grin widened, making a beeline straight for them.

The twins, seeing their father approach, squirmed in Y/N's arms, eager to be with him. Mason scooped them up, holding one in each arm, and the family stood together, the celebration and the victory surrounding them. Fans cheered, cameras flickered, and Mason's teammates thumped his back, congratulating both him and his family.

Mason looked at Y/N and the twins, a mix of happiness, pride, and gratitude in his eyes. "Did you two see that? We won!"

The twins, though too young to fully understand the match, giggled at the sound of their father's voice, and one of them patted Mason's face, which was coated with dirt and sweat.

Y/N smiled, her heart full. "We did. And you were brilliant out there." She reached out to ruffle his already messy hair.

Mason chuckled, his focus on the twins. "You two were the real MVPs today. Gave me the extra bit of energy I needed."

The twins, completely oblivious to the impact they had on their father's performance, responded with more giggles and playful pats on Mason's cheeks, their little hands seemingly trying to mimic the applause and adoration.

As the celebration continued, Mason's teammates surrounded him, their voices a mix of congratulations and laughter. Mason, still holding the twins, was pulled into the midst of it all, but he made sure to turn back to Y/N, giving her a smile and mouthing "thank you" amidst the chaos.

After being congratulated by his teammates, Mason set the twins down on the grass. They immediately started crawling, exploring the new surroundings and the many pairs of feet around them. When he straightened, he immediately moved back to Y/N, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close.

He leaned in, his voice quieter now. "I couldn't have done it without you, you know. You and the boys, you're my lucky charm."

Y/N's eyes softened, touched by his words. "And we're incredibly proud of you. Both of them." She nodded towards the crawling twins, who were currently attempting to chew on a blade of grass.

Mason chuckled at the sight, glancing down at his sons, a fondness in his eyes. "They're going to inherit my love for football, aren't they?"

Y/N chuckled as well, following his gaze. "With a father like you, I think that's inevitable. Just promise me you'll teach them fair play and sportsmanship along with all the skills."

Mason turned back to Y/N, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Of course, love. But also, a little bit of the winner's attitude; it doesn't hurt to aim for the top, right?"

She rolled her eyes in mock-annoyance. "And now I know they'll be just like you." But there was a smile on her face, revealing she wouldn't have it any other way.

Mason laughed, pulling her closer, his hand resting on her hip. "They'll be the best of both worlds, I'm telling you. They've got your coolheadedness and kindness, but also... my charm." He winked, a cocky grin on his face.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her tone a mix of amusement and indulgence. "And a healthy dose of your ego as well, it seems."

Mason feigned offence, placing a hand over his heart. "Hey, ego is part of the package. You signed up for this, remember?"

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, I'm well aware. And I wouldn't change a thing about my little family." The twins had wandered closer, tugging on their parents' trousers as if demanding attention.

Mason glanced down, a soft smile on his face as one twin grabbed his jeans, the other Y/N's skirt. "Looks like our fan club is getting restless," he said, picking up one twin and handing him to Y/N while he hoisted the other onto his hip.

The celebration on the field finally came to an end, and Mason, after showering and changing back into his street clothes, exited the locker room. As he rounded the corner, he spotted Y/N waiting for him, the twins snuggled into her arms, their eyes starting to droop with tiredness.

Seeing him, Y/N's face lit up with a smile. The twins, seeing their father again, also perked up, wriggling in their mother's arms, eager to be held by him.

Mason quickened his pace, his eyes locked on his family. "Hey, you three. Ready to head back home?"

Y/N nodded, shifting the twins' weight in her arms. "More than ready. These two are starting to fall asleep." Her eyes were affectionate, but there was a hint of exhaustion in them as well.

Mason moved to stand beside her, his large hands easily taking hold of the twins from her. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head, his voice low and affectionate. "Let me take them. You look knackered, love."

Y/N smiled in appreciation, leaning slightly into his touch for a moment. "Thanks. I am a bit tired. Dealing with two energizer bunnies while their dad was off winning a match takes its toll," she teased.

Mason chuckled, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "I'll make it up to you, I promise," he responded, cradling the twins one in each arm. "A nice, relaxing evening where you can put your feet up. I'll cook dinner, give these two their baths, the works."

Y/N looked up at him, a mix of affection and skepticism on her face. "You? Cook dinner? Without setting the smoke alarm off?"

Mason feigned offense, a hand over his heart. "I'll have you know, I'm a master chef in the making," he teased. "I've watched every episode of Masterchef. Just give me a recipe, and I can handle it."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Alright, we'll see about that. But if I come home to smoke billowing out of the kitchen, you're sleeping on the couch."

Mason just laughed, unbothered by her warning. "Scout's honor, love. I won't burn down the kitchen, I promise." He jiggled the twins in his arms, making them giggle, as if seeking their endorsement. "The boys will testify to my cooking skills, won't you, fellas?"

The twins, having no understanding of the conversation, just babbled happily and nodded their heads, seemingly agreeing with everything their father said. Y/N laughed at their innocence, shaking her head. "Of course, they'll back you up. They've got you wrapped around their little fingers."

Mason smiled, a soft expression in his eyes as he looked down at his sons. "Can you blame me? Can you really blame me?" He leaned in to kiss each twin on the forehead, his rough, stubbly chin rubbing against their soft cheeks.

He looked back up at Y/N, a determined look on his face. "I'll prove it. Tonight, I'm handling everything. You just sit back, relax, and be pampered."

Mason, true to his word, had cooked up a fairly decent meal for dinner. It wasn't gourmet fare, but the lasagna was edible, and Y/N was pleasantly surprised. The twins, once fed and bathed, were tucked into their beds, their little bodies exhausted from the day's excitement.

Now, Mason and Y/N were in their bed, the bedroom lit by a low, warm light. They both laid on their sides, facing each other, the events of the day replaying in their memories.

Mason, his hand gently running through Y/N's hair, spoke softly, the bedroom quiet enough for his words to be the only sound in the room. "Today was a good day, wasn't it?"

Y/N smiled, her eyes reflecting the contentment she felt. "The best. Seeing you on the field, watching the twins' faces light up..." She let out a soft sigh, her fingers making small patterns on his bare chest. "It's days like these that make everything worth it."

Mason nodded, his fingers tracing the curve of her jaw, his touch tender. "And knowing you and the boys are there, watching and supporting..." He shook his head slightly, the emotion evident in his voice. "Seeing you there, seeing them there... it makes it all matter. I wouldn't be half the player I am without you three by my side."

Y/N's expression softened even more, touched by his words. She placed a light kiss on his collarbone, her voice a soft murmur. "You give us too much credit. You're the one out there, doing the work, achieving things. We just cheer you on from the sidelines."

"And those cheers make all the difference," he responded, his hand moving down to rest on her hip, pulling her closer. "That knowledge, that you're there, it fuels me. Makes me want to be better, to keep winning, to give you and the boys the best life I can."

"I love you," Mason said, his voice low and full of emotion. He pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her forehead, her cheek, her jaw, until finally he found her lips. The kiss was soft, a gentle but fervent display of the love and appreciation he held for her.

Pulling back slightly, he repeated, "I love you," his eyes meeting hers, the truth of his statement evident in the sincerity of his gaze.

Y/N's heart swelled with an overwhelming amount of love. "I love you too," she murmured, her fingers tracing his cheek, her touch soft. "More than words can say."

She leaned in, her lips finding his once again, the kiss mirroring the depth of her feelings. When they pulled apart, they were both breathless but their eyes shone with a silent understanding.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close, their bodies fitting perfectly together. They lay like that, in each other's embrace, the quiet of the night surrounding them. There were no more words needed, their 'I love you's' hanging in the air, the feeling palpable in the quiet room. As they drifted off to sleep, it was clear that their love was as strong as ever, a bond built on years of trust, support, and mutual affection.

Yourusername posted on Instagram!

Liked by masonmount and others

Yourusername The twins having a blast supporting their daddy!

masonmount: My biggest supporters! Love you 🤍

benchilwell: Can’t wait to see my nephews soon!

declanrice: An Arsenal jersey would look better on them! In that way they can match Jude!

masonmount: No way in hell mate!

laurenfryer_: Little cuties! They’ve grown so much! Miss you!

yourusername: I know right!!! I miss you too girlie 🫶

rasmus.hoejlund: Back on the pitch stronger and better mase! 💪

masonmount: My brother 🙌

masonfangirlie: The twins are literally a copy of their dad!

united_mase_xx: Awww look at them 🥹 so cute 🥲

nothateful_butfateful: Can’t believe he’s still with her.

united4everuser: Girl stfu your jealousy is showing 🙄

lew.mount: Watch out mate, not too long until they start beating their dad in football!

masonmount: They already beat their uncle so not too long until they pass me bro!

debbiemount60: My grand babies 🥰 I expect to see you soon Y/N!

yourusername: Definitely! 😘

masonmount: Not asking about your own son 🤔 I see how it is mum!

yourusername: Dramatic much mase?

masonmount: Me? Never babe!

The end

[papergirllife]

Lee Taeyong (M)

‘I beg you don't embarrass me, motherfucker.’ But there's always exceptions when it comes to love right?

Taeyong x Bartender! Reader

Wordcount: 6.7k

Warnings: in this fic Taeyong has impulsive tendencies and physical aggression (not towards reader), light b*ndage, or*l play, slight or*l fixation, grinding, penetrati*on, Taeyong is very much down bad in this fic so lots of fluff.

The party is so boring, no one’s dancing even though they’re dressed to the nines in this extravagant hotel ballroom that could rival any celebrity’s expensive wedding, but instead all they’re doing is talking business, but the worst of them, are gossiping, and of course, to your downtrodden luck, you’re the gossip of the night.

“He’s going to be bored of her soon, I just know it, just look at her, so different from his ex and usual type.”

You’re not the type to be affected by being shit talked, however, you do have your worries, and frankly, heartbreak is one thing, but your ego? That’s another, you think to yourself as you sip on your glass of scotch. You sigh as you recall how you ended up in this predicament in the first place.

Maybe you should’ve thought through this more thoroughly, you think to yourself after seeing people go in and out of the supply closet, which is obviously a disguise for the illegal casino beneath the pub you’re working at, though, some people do really come for just drinks, but most of them are customers of both businesses under this roof and since you’ve been here for a week plus now, you recognise some of the regulars by now, but a man you don’t recognise is suddenly taking a seat right in front of you, usually customers prefer to go to your colleagues who have been here far longer and know what customers want, only helping out more on weekends where more people come in for a drink.

You rise from your stool, yes, one great thing about working here means workers don’t have to meaninglessly stand the whole night.

“You’re new here?” the man asks, and if you were being honest, he’s probably the prettiest man you’ve seen, but you screw a neutral expression on your face, one should never let their guard down around a man of all things.

“Yup, what can I get you to drink?” you ask as you take in his appearance, dripping in designer, a pretty loose blouse that accentuates his sharp facial features, earrings hanging off his earlobes, the designs feminine compared to what most men wear.

“Scotch on the rocks, please,” he says while he leans back to make himself comfortable, his arms crossed, usually clients would be looking around for someone to take home by now, the usual ‘pub guard’ scanning, you like to call it, but for the ones that want a drink before going down to gamble, they usually have this impatient look in their eyes, not that it affects you, your skin is as thick as a cheese wheel.

However, this man just sits and observes you. Is he part of the mafia and is scared that someone’s going to poison him at any moment? Or is he a cop and is trying to make you cave to tell him about the illegal casino downstairs? You’re just going to act like you had no idea, you’re not working in the casino itself, they can’t charge you on any terms as long as your boss has an alcohol licence, which is what they promised you when you interviewed, if they’re lying you’re gonna have to kick someone’s ass.

When you pass him his drink, he just sits back and takes a sip, his obnoxiously large eyes still looking at you, they’re pretty eyes, but you’ve never kept someone’s attention for this long, though, in most cases, you could walk away, like those creepy men on the subway, you’re not sure if this guy’s a creepy guy, he hasn’t tried grabbing your hand yet, if he did then you’re viable to call security, but he’s just watching you.

“So, what brings you here?” he asks, a hand mindlessly swirling the glass in his hand.

“Needed money, Seoul isn’t getting cheaper by the day,” you say, a general answer.

“How old are you?” he asks, prodding, why is he still prodding?

“In my early twenties, above the legal age to serve you drinks, what about you?” it’s time for you to prod, engage with customers a bit, your manager always tells you, be a little friendlier.

“28. You look older than early twenties, not that it’s a bad thing, of course,” he says, and with the way he says it, you know he doesn’t mean it in a demeaning way, not that you mind, you swore off men long ago, people always tell you there’s better fish in the sea, but all you manage to fish are trash.

“Thanks, I did my makeup to look older,” you reply as out of the corner of your eye you catch a group of men walking in the pub.

“Why?” he asks, oh men, they’re so innocent to the things women go through everyday.

“So people would take me seriously,” you answer honestly before you excuse yourself to make drinks for the customers, you don’t want your manager to think you’re slacking off within a month.

However, after only finishing their second order, your colleague says she’d take over from you, thinking the customers are her regulars, you move away without questioning.

So you go back to talking to the man, this time round, he finally reveals his name to be Taeyong, he even orders a second drink of your choice.

“A negroni?” he asks with the expression of a kicked puppy, smacking his lips distastefully before he requests for a glass of water.

“Wanted to try it out myself one of these days, but I was unsure, guess I’m quite certain I won’t ever try it now I guess,” you say with a shrug and a chuckle at how comical his expressions are, a little bit of betrayal and a tinge of shock, which makes him look more human in your eyes.

A new customer makes his way to the bar in the meantime, but Taeyong’s brows scrunch up when he sees you’re about to step away to serve the customer.

“Let other people handle him, you just stay here with me,” he suggests.

“Taeyong, as nice it is talking to you, I’d like to remind you that this is a strictly professional relationship, please respect the boundaries between a bartender and a customer-

“Missy, who do you think you are talking to him like that, do you know who he is-

“It’s fine Ms Choi, she’s right, I’m merely a regular, I need to respect her boundaries,” Taeyong says, cutting off your manager.

Your manager looks flabbergasted before she composes herself, bowing to Taeyong before she drags you away from the bar to the small staff area on the side.

“I'm warning you since you're new here, Mr Lee is a VIP, don't do anything stupid, he's not the type to pull dumb shit, so you have nothing to worry about. Alright, that's all, get back to work,” she says before dismissing you.

“If you're worried about getting less tips then you don't have to worry, I'll tip you accordingly for the time spent talking to me,” Taeyong says when you get back to your spot.

“It's not that, I’m getting paid anyways, tips are just an extra, I'm still getting paid a base salary talking to you and not doing anything, so a win is a win, I guess,” you brush off, it's not that busy today anyways.

“No, I'm a responsible customer, how about you make me another drink? One that you fancy?” Taeyong suggests.

Hence for the whole night, you indulge in the lengthy conversation the two of you share, and with every night he comes in, you find comfort in this growing friendship, the only hiccup being that he tips you too much money and he won't take no for an answer.

Months go by and the lines between you and Taeyong start to blur, but you're still quite hesitant, you haven't committed in a relationship since a long time ago and if you're honest, you don't know much about Taeyong other than the fact that he's a businessman, but of what sort of business? You don't have the foggiest idea.

Tonight is a Friday night, which means the bar is busier than usual. Surprisingly enough, Taeyong hasn't dropped in tonight, he doesn't come in every night, but he'd never miss Friday nights.

“Hey, can we get two martinis,” a customer asks, distracting you from your wandering thoughts, and you quickly get to work, but out of the corner of your eye, you see a familiar silhouette heading towards the direction of the fake storage room where the underground casino entrance is located, but the customers asked for something on top of their drinks and you were distracted once again.

After a few more customers, Jiun, a bottle girl and your fellow colleague, rushes to your area of the counter in distress.

“Table 5 wants 6 Coronas in a bucket but I think I just got my period, is it okay if you bring it to them?” she asks, and how can you say no to a woman who's in need of help?

“Sure thing, do you need a pad?” you ask, just in case, you're sure you have some in your locker if she doesn't.

“No, I have one on me, but thank you so much,” she says before scurrying off to the direction of the bathroom.

After putting together the order, you quickly make your way to the table with the customers’ drinks, placing down the bucket on the table.

“You new here, pretty girl? Never seen you around before?” one of the men at the table asks.

“Nope, just helping out my coworker,” you replied as you began to make your way back to the counter.

“What a shame, a pretty face like yours should be admired more, why grind behind a boring counter?” another asks, this one's nearer to you, standing up from his seat to get closer to you.

“Sorry, I have to get back to my job now,” you say, trying to excuse yourself, but the man grabs your arm, telling you to not rush and sit down and have a bottle.

Suddenly, you feel a presence behind you and then you feel someone pulling you by the strap of your money pouch.

“She said no, unhand her,” you'd recognise that voice anywhere, and looking to your side, you see Taeyong next to you, his usually round boba eyes now appearing in a sharp warning stare.

“Fuck off, dude, we were here first, shouldn't we have first dibs on her-

Before you could react to being demeaned in such a way, Taeyong's fist connects with his ugly face, and to your horror, both of them start fighting.

You quickly try pulling them apart but Taeyong pushes himself and the man out of your way, telling you to get security, you didn't want to leave his side, but thankfully, security were already making their way to your direction, blocked by a few drunken customers, his friend, takes the chance to jump in on the fight, and who are you to stand there and do nothing? Taeyong might be handling one guy on his own just fine, but you can't watch him get beaten to a pulp in your name, and you did the most logical thing you could think of by kicking the guy's head with your thick heeled boots and to your astonishment, he seems a bit disorientated by the ordeal, security finally made their way to Taeyong to pull the guy off him and escort him out the pub.

“Are you okay?” you ask Taeyong, but when you inspect his condition a bit closer, you cringe at his busted lip and bruised cheek.

However, before you could suggest accompanying him to the hospital, police arrive at the scene and next thing you know, you’re being escorted to the police station for questioning along with the asshole and Taeyong.

They finished up with you quick, they were a bit sceptical about Taeyong merely defending you, but you played it up a little by lying about how scared you were and maybe you chalked up a little bit on how his hands felt like they were everywhere on you, but it's the least you can do for Taeyong, and it's not like there were cameras anywhere.

“How long is he going to be questioned, officer?” you ask the policeman who had questioned you.

“Probably not long, seeing that his lawyer is here,” he points to the entrance, where a tall man in a suit walks in and follows the lead of an officer into the room Taeyong is being questioned in.

Knowing that he has a lawyer with him, you sigh a breath of relief and sit down on a nearby bench, the coolness of the plastic material digging into your skin, you regret wearing your beloved black velvet shorts now.

Fortunately, true to his words, Taeyong came out soon after, heading to a nearby desk to finish up some paperwork with his lawyer, so you get to your feet and head over to him.

“Brawling in your own pub is a new low, Lee, just let your boys handle shit like this next time,” the officer says.

“Wait, what do you mean your own pub?” the question flies out of your lips and Taeyong looks up, stunned, not knowing that you were still here.

“Leave the questions for later, just finish signing the papers and head out,” the officer orders, with a roll of your eyes, you stand right there, waiting for Taeyong to explain himself, his lawyer trying his best not to laugh.

“So? Care to explain yourself why you've been lying to me this whole time? Regular my ass,” you mutter the last part to yourself as you walk out the police station, cursing when you realise you don't have your coat with you, it's bearable now that it's creeping into June, but you've always preferred being warm.

“I'm going to get going, my cab's here,” his lawyer says, grasping this small window to leave before he gets caught up in a lover's quarrel, passing Taeyong something, to which you identify as car keys.

“Thank you, Johnny,” he says before turning to you with a sigh, his lips sit in a thin line, looking a bit lost at the sight of you, your usual smile wiped from your face as your pretty eyes stare daggers into his face, arms folded, and that's when he notices the goosebumps littering your arm.

“I didn't tell you that I was the boss because I wanted to get to know you without the label and pressure of me being your boss,” Taeyong explains as he shrugs off his coat to hang it on your shoulders before he directs you to a luxury SUV parked nearby.

“You could've told me sooner, asshole. And, why did you pull that shit tonight? You could've gotten yourself beaten to a pulp if I didn't literally step in and step on his head,” you lament, expressing your dissatisfaction with your entire body to the point of swinging your beloved Coach bag that you told Taeyong you were saving up weeks for, and Taeyong thinks you're so cute when you're angry, but he does have to make an effort to dodge the angry swing of your bag as he helps you climb up the passenger seat of his car.

“I know, and thank you for saving my ass but I need to shut the door and get going now, princess,” Taeyong says and does so before you could protest his usage of endearments when you're mad at him.

“How about we get some food before I drive you back to your place?” he suggest when he starts the car, seeing that you're now giving him the silent treatment, face turned to the side to look out to not see him, but the word ‘fine’ uttered from your lips has Taeyong breathing a sigh of relief as he confidently drives into a familiar street where he knows a convenience store is located.

After getting and heating up noodles and onigiris to share, the two of you take a seat in the empty store.

“Don't do embarrassing shit like this on my behalf ever again,” you warn before digging into your cup noodles, the spicy warm soup bringing instant comfort and familiarity after such a hectic night.

“It doesn't matter if it's on your behalf, that fucker deserved it,” Taeyong reasoned as he peels off the plastic wrapping of his onigiri, taking a huge bite of the delicious rice ball he was craving.

“Just don't do anything stupid anymore, if I couldn't handle myself I could've called security, you doing something stupid embarrasses me too, you know, I don't want to end up in the police station with you ever again, my friends are going to think I'm dating a crook,” you say offhandedly, but Taeyong’s eyes are as wide as saucers as he takes in your words.

“Wait, what do you mean dating?” he asks with the biggest smile on his face, onigiri placed on the side, suddenly he's not hungry anymore.

“Don't tell me you're not taking responsibility, I'm literally wearing your jacket and risked jail time for your ass,” you say so casually that Taeyong feels like he's having a fever dream, not even his best fantasies would he ever depict himself being labelled as your significant other.

“No, never, I'm definitely taking full responsibility, and I promise, no more doing stupid shit to embarrass you, I swear,” Taeyong pledges, his hand coming up to salute you, the goofy gesture finally getting the first laugh out of you for the night.

“Though, to prevent me from doing stupid shit, I have a proposition, you have a marketing degree right? I know you said you're against working for big corps cause you hate how they practically steal money off of people's needs, but I do have a few establishments, restaurants of a few cuisines, that need a proper marketer to oversee and promote, so if you're not opposed to letting go your bartending job…” and before Taeyong could finish, you were quick to say yes.

Boy, do the days go by so fast after that, your new job is mostly online, you have two coworkers, a graphic designer –Mark Lee and a social media manager, or better known as the restaurants’ staffs’ biggest fear, Lee Haechan. A small department compared to the two finance departments, one for clean money and one for dirty money, but if anyone asks, you'd say you didn’t have a clue.

Starting out a new job wasn't easy, nor was it too difficult, being a ‘quite fresh’ graduate meant you still recall plenty of the knowledge you've studied in college, but the huge funds you had was of great assistance, which brings you to this party hosted by his friend.

Taeyong said he wanted to bring Yuta, his omakase chef who had just earned his first three Michelin stars under his new restaurant, thanks to your hard work in marketing to attract new rich customers and food critics.

However, people on the top of the food chain always had a reputation of being absolute dickheads.

“She’s literally younger than him, his ex was older by five years at least, and she was one of us, I did some digging, this girl isn’t even from one of the SKY universities,” one of them comments, and it’s true, you’re not that smart and you weren’t born with a silver spoon in your mouth, but what has you freezing in your spot is what comes out of their mouths next.

“I heard he got into a fight at his own bar for her and ended up getting detained for a bit, she’s just going to have him end up locked up if he stays with her, people like her bring nothing but bad omens.”

“Don’t tell me you’re letting their words get to you,” Yuta says, popping out of nowhere beside you.

“Even the strongest trees waver under the pressure of the winds, Yuta,” you say before finishing your glass.

Yuta and you have grown close after you had worked closely to promote the restaurant, and he values your opinion of which presentation you prefer, which is rare for chefs, especially the ones you've worked with with many years of experience and a reputation.

“Yeah, but who gives a fuck about some shitty pretentious university, that shit don’t matter as long as you land a job, plus, their faces are so botched, you look way better, Taeyong would never pick these shitty pick mes over you,” Yuta comments way too loudly for your comfort, but thankfully the girls were loudly squealing at the fact that their friend is finally here, welcoming her, unbeknownst of Yuta’s lethal words.

“Pick who over my sweetheart?” Taeyong asks, a hand coming to rest around your waist.

“I said you wouldn't, but someone’s doubting after hearing a few snarky remarks,” Yuta says, which has you freezing in your spot, Taeyong’s always been very protective and defensive about you, you don’t want to witness him fucking someone up tonight at such a prestigious party.

“Yeah, trust me, man to man, he’s definitely just fucking her on the down low, he’d never go for someone lower class, she’s most probably just a cheap fuck,” you look over Yuta’s shoulder to see a man standing next to one of the girls who were talking shit about you, two people were blocking their sight of your little group, so they hadn’t seen Taeyong coming back.

And to your horror, Taeyong leaves your side, walking up to the little clique.

“Oh god, he’s going to embarrass me,” you say with a groan before you quickly follow Taeyong as fast as you can in your Louboutins.

With a swing and the cracking of bones, you see the guy hunched over immediately, cursing as he holds his bloodied nose in his hand, when you finally got to the scene, the music had been cut, the place drowning in shocked silence no thanks to your heels, sue you, but you didn’t expect to need to run tonight, it was just two feet but these heels are so unwalkable.

“Don’t let me catch you assholes talking about my girlfriend ever again, you don’t want to know what I can do beyond breaking your nose,” Taeyong threatens as the guy quickly cowers on his spot on the floor.

“I wouldn’t mess with him if I were you,” someone says as they walk towards the scene, his name is Woozi, Taeyong had told you about the host of this party being a close friend of his who he had helped out when he had just taken over his father’s empire, you had no idea how much that meant to Woozi, but seeing them interacting now, you understand that if you mess with one of them, the other one immediately retaliates, “you wouldn’t want to go against him or me,” he says, elaborating no further, you hadn’t ask Taeyong what Woozi’s empire entails, but you think the less you know, the better.

“No, no, please, I was stupid, I’m sorry, miss,” he apologises to you before quickly escaping the scene, the girls leaving as well, tails tucked between their legs as they scramble, it’s quite an amusing scene.

“Thank you for standing up for me, Woozi, it’s nice to finally meet the host of this amazing party,” you say before sticking out your hand for him to shake.

“The honour’s all mine,” Woozi says as he takes your hand, “and nice to finally meet you, it’s nice to finally put a face to the person hyung’s been gushing about nonstop,” Woozi teases, which then earns him a light playful slap from Taeyong.

“Gushing is perfectly fine, I just wish he’d stop embarrassing himself and me on my behalf,” you say with an annoyed sigh as you turn to stare daggers into your boyfriend.

“Oh come on, I couldn’t just stand them and let them belittle you, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t do anything?” Taeyong retorts with a sheepish expression, he knows you don’t like it when he goes out of his way for you to this point, but he couldn’t help it, he loves you so dearly.

“You’re just proving them right by reacting, Yong, we talked about this,” you say, exasperated as you toss your arms up in defeat, you don’t know how to get this through his head at all.

“Proving what? Baby,” Taeyong calls out as you take off to the exit too, you have decided that tonight has been too much for you, you're tired of all this glitz and glamour with this thick layer of utter bullshit with their grade school playground gimmicks.

“Help me keep an eye on Yuta, I need to talk to her,” Taeyong quickly says to Woozi before he picks up the pace to follow you, ending up out at the lobby of the hotel, you were talking to the valet, and he distantly hears you asking for the keys.

“Baby, come on, don’t be mad, I’m sorry, I was stupidly acting on impulse, you know how defensive I get when it comes to you,” Taeyong reasons, but you keep quiet, trying to compose your thoughts, your car that you share with Taeyong pulls up, and immediately Taeyong tries taking the keys from the valet.

“You drank,” you say before pushing his hand away to retrieve your key, you did too, but Taeyong’s alcohol tolerance is much lower than yours, god knows he shouldn’t be driving.

Taeyong’s heart warms when he registers the chastise from you, you still care about him, you still love him, and so with a love stricken smile on his face and a slight bounce in his step, he's a giggly drunk so this happens all the time, though when he gets in the car, he worries once more when he sees how you chose to not play any music nor talk whilst driving.

When the two of you finally reached home, you immediately retreated into your shared bedroom, not sparing Taeyong a glance, not even when he offered to remove your heels for you.

Taeyong sighs to himself as he follows you upstairs, you had locked yourself in the bathroom as of now, probably cleaning your face free off makeup, he knows how you much you hate the texture of it on your skin despite loving to doll up, and he can’t blame you, even bb cream feels a tad bit too thick for Taeyong when you had applied it on him for fun.

Taeyong quickly changes into his house clothes and leaves the bedroom, just in case you need more space, he never wants to intrude when you want some alone time, even if he craves your affection, you’ll come around soon, you always do, Taeyong reassures himself.

When Taeyong was about to turn on the telly to kill some time, he hears you walking down the stairs, turning back to look over the sofa, Taeyong’s jaw drops at the sight of you.

Adorned in a beautiful lingerie set with a delicate crystal chain hanging around your upper left thigh, your face without a smidge of product, but he thinks you look best like this, but what finally has his cock twitching was what you had in your hold, a familiar pair of handcuffs.

“Sweetheart…” Taeyong mutters as thoughts of endless possibilities of how the night would play out runs through his head, but you silence him with the tip of your finger placed on his lips.

“Just let me do my thing, sit back and enjoy,” you say before you drop to your knees, your sultry eyes watching Taeyong’s every expression, and the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing has you cracking a smile as you lock his hand into the handcuffs.

Taeyong feels like he’s being hypnotised when your eyes stay on his whilst sliding his pants and boxers down, he almost didn’t feel his cock twitching from the cold air, but before he could even register the cold in its entirety, you take him into your mouth, the sudden action has Taeyong cursing, he would’ve bucked into your mouth if it wasn’t for your hands holding his hips down, he breathes a slightly frustrated sigh from the restriction, but like the little minx you are, you quickly hollow your cheeks after sinking in deeper, the tip of his length hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck!” Taeyong curses as he grows tense at your ministrations, he swears he almost came right then and there when he felt the constriction of your throat, his fingers turn white from grasping against the cuffs to anchor himself.

You take in the sight of him struggling to not cum and take pity on him, your mouth leaving his cock with a pop with a sly smile on your lips before your hands grasp him tightly, making sure he doesn’t cum too soon, the pressure sending a jolt down Taeyong’s spine, his usual round boba eyes now hooded but he scrunches them shut on impulse when you push back the foreskin, exposing the sensitive tip, giving it quick kitten licks before you suck on it like a lollipop, your tongue placed underneath his tip and you suck hard, and that’s when Taeyong goes over the edge, his body seizing up, you quickly take him down your throat, smiling around the edges of his cock when you feel the familiar warmth running down your throat, you keep him in your mouth until he stops, pulling off of him with a slight giggle when you see his chest heaving, limp against the couch, all from your undoing, and what a power trip that gives you, a rich and powerful man succumbing to your actions.

“How are you holding up, baby? Need a break?” you ask as you straddle him, tossing over your leg to situate yourself perfectly between his thighs, the lace material coming into contact with his cock, twitching back to life when it feels the slight warmth and moisture of your heat.

“More, please,” Taeyong utters as he tries his best to move his hips, and so you indulge him, rotating your hips until he hardens underneath you again.

You hear the clinks of his cuffs when you stand up, ceasing all physical contact, giggling when you hear him beg for you to come back, but he goes mute when he sees you shift the crotch of your lingerie to the side, climbing back into his embrace.

“You’re gonna ride me all dressed up prettily, sweetheart?” Taeyong asks, head tilted to the side as he takes in the sight of you, eyes locked onto his as you stare down at him, and he can’t help himself, lowering his head to litter kisses on your arm as he inhales your scent, call him a madman, but your scent might as well be as addictive as nicotine itself, the way he can’t seem to get enough of it.

Taeyong then shifts his head to the valley of your breasts, mouthing at your cleavage, pulling down the flimsy coverage by its thin straps to gain access to your bare chest, goosebumps rise on your skin when he finally takes a nipple into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks on it like his life depends on it, like he really wants to eat you up, the action has you chasing for more pleasure, grinding your clit on the tip of his length before you can't take it anymore, reaching down with shaking hands to position him to your core, moaning his name as you finally slide down, slowly taking him inside you inch by inch, Taeyong's succumbed to the sweet feeling of your warm walls, giving up on worshipping your boobs, instead he's gripping onto your hips hard as he focuses on being engulfed in your heat, he's kind of slobbering on your right boob, but you find it arousing, the way he's so lost in pleasure, his eyes shut, brows furrowed as he mutters a string of sweet nothings as you make your way down to the hilt.

An almost delirious smile makes its way onto Taeyong’s face when you squeeze around him, head dipped low as he curses from your actions, you tilt his chin up with your fingertips, ego inflating at the sight of how wrecked he is and you barely even started.

“It’s been so long and you’re still reacting this way,” you noted as you caressed the side of his face.

“For you? Forever,” Taeyong says with full honesty, eyes overflowing with lust as he confesses, looking so vulnerable, underneath you like you’re his god, and in a way, you might just be, if Taeyong had it his way, he’d build a palace just for you and dedicate his life to you.

“I know,” you say with a row of your hips, cursing in unison with your lover when you feel him penetrate the deepest parts of your heat, that sensitive spot that has your toes curling.

Spurred on by Taeyong’s ever vocal devotion towards you, you raise your hips before slamming down once again, and the moan of your name escaping his lips has you doing it again and again, the quick drag of his length against your flesh has the whole house filled with the sound of sex resonating within its walls, you’re grateful Taeyong’s unit is the penthouse, because Taeyong’s always been so vocal in bed, his voice pitched much higher than it usually is, and as much as you revel in the feeling of people admiring your man, you don’t want anyone else hearing how beautiful he sounds when he’s laid bare underneath you.

With how fast you’re going, you’re sure there’s indentations of the sofa’s legs on the expensive wooden flooring, but fuck it, you’re so close, but you’re to blame for that, clenching on him every time you sink down, just so you could see the way he tries the very hardest not to cum way too early, not that you’d mind, it happened many times before, and you still find it so hot.

Deciding to not prolong the torture any longer, you reach down to rub quick circles on your clit as you grind the tip of his cock to that one spot deep inside, that perfect 12 o'clock angle that has your legs turning jelly, with a hiss of Taeyong’s name and a spasm of your walls from the shocks of pleasure coursing through your entire body, you finally reach your peak, your body sagging in sweet relief, your sensitive nipples feel so good against his skin, but after having a quick moment to yourself, you quickly slide off of him with a loud squelch that got a giggle out of you even in this heated state, getting down on your knees and take him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and suck, lips stretched, with his dick lodge at the back of your throat when you see his legs buckle and soon after, splashes of his warm release drip down your throat once again, when the flow ceases, you pull off of him with a deafening pop.

“Good boy,” you say after getting up brushing his cheek softly with those tender eyes that make Taeyong weak in the knees, only he gets to see this tender side of you, and it drives him mad sometimes, that it’s only reserve for him, of everyone you could choose to dote on, you chose him, and he hopes you’ll keep choosing him till the end of time.

With a quick click, he feels the cuffs being loosened and tossed away, instantly his arms are around your figure, pulling you into a deep kiss, the taste of himself on your lips spurs him on, but he wills himself to get his shit together, he knows you must be tired from doing all the work tonight, and there’s something that needs to be addressed soon, and so he pulls away from your lips, his hand placed on your right cheek, thumb brushing against the curvature of your cheek bone.

“Do you feel better now? Are you still angry at me or do I need to do more than letting you ravage my body like that?” Taeyong jokes with a laugh, but he immediately sobers up when he sees you sigh and climb off his sturdy legs.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten mad like that,” you say as you cringe as you recall how you acted out earlier today, you know no one’s perfect, but when you slip up, it reminds you too much of your own mother, throwing a tantrum and running away, and you swear you’d never be like her, but at the end of the day, you’re a work of progress, and fortunately, Taeyong understands.

“Do you want to tell me what triggered you?” Taeyong asks, his tone gentle, he never directs his aggression at you, no matter the situation, he loves you too much to ever even think of doing that.

“They said some things, and they’re not entirely wrong-” but you’re being cut off by an irritated sigh, Taeyong hates it when you demean yourself this way. “Before you get mad, hear me out, they said how I’d always get you in trouble, and when you think about it, they’re not wrong, I literally landed you in jail the first night we got together, Yong, and the shit they said about me not being from one of the prestigious universities, they’re not wrong about that, it’s just facts, I’m just not part of this elite social ladder, that isn’t the point. The point is that I feel like I’m tarnishing your reputation and in relation, your businesses,” you finish off with another sigh, you haven’t been sighing this much these days, so this feels oddly familiar in the worst ways possible, Taeyong’s been making your life more comfortable every single day, but you on the other hand, are contributing to his troubles.

“Don’t let them get to your head, you’re literally bringing in so much profit for me, sweetheart, next time I’ll throw a party just to show everyone how our numbers are doing, it’ll blow them away, also, you’re doing all that without a goddamn degree from those snobbish colleges. Lastly, you don’t get me in trouble, it’s just part and parcel of protecting the person I love, something they’d never understand with how shallow they are, don’t let people with an EQ of 0 determine how you live, and I know what you want to say,” Taeyong says when he sees you open your mouth to protest, “I’ll try my best to not get in trouble and keep my temper in check, but I do hope you understand that if it isn’t me, I’m just gonna have someone else do the dirty job of beating them up,” Taeyong says, compromising, that’s how his father and mother did it, he always believes that’s the key to a long lasting marriage, which is something he’d want with you in the near future.

“Fine,” you say with a sigh, but he sees the ghost of a smile on your face as you lean down to rest your head on his broad shoulder, littering kisses from his neck to the end of his shoulder, Taeyong lets himself bask in your affection for a bit, knowing that you thrive off giving physical affection, but he's a clean freak at the end of the day, getting the both of you clean is still a priority.

“Come, let’s have a bath, my love,” Taeyong suggests as he carries you the direction of your bedroom, and you let him, soaking up the feeling of being loved, maybe Taeyong’s right, nothing matters when you have a love as cosmic as the one you share with Taeyong.

[drarry-reccage]

Watch the Castles Burn, by @moonflower-rose

Longbottom had his phone out, trying to film the waves, Draco presumed. He waded back through the shallow water toward him and their gear, blue sparks racing out where he kicked past the waves. His jeans were plastered to him, nearly dragging right off his hips, and his nipples felt like they could cut glass. His hair was a salty tangle, and he tried to push it back from his face, still worrying at the tender bit of his lip with his teeth. “That was a holy show,” Longbottom said, and Draco turned back and looked out at the crest and break of the water. It was beautiful, and he must have said the same aloud, because Longbottom muttered something Draco couldn’t quite catch. He was pointing the phone at Draco now, and Draco grinned and made a half-hearted swipe at it. “Let’s get the fuck out of here, Neville, before I lose one of my favourite extremities.”

In this fic, Draco is completely oblivious to the effect he has on others, especially Harry. There's also delicious pining and heartbreak and angst. But if you're like me and require a happy ending, it also has that.

There really does need to be art of the scene quoted, as well as of the Quidditch jersey (you'll know when you get to it.)

🎧 Bonus: @reveriepi made an extraordinary podfic of this, it moved me to tears and laughter more than once. If podfics are your thing, definitely add this to your "to listen" pile.

rec by @sweatersinthesummer

[prodbymaui]

Fraying Hearstrings

we were so beautiful, we were so tragic

The saying goes that time heals all wounds, yet with every tick of the clock, it feels like the cuts in your heart become shallower while the pain only burrows deeper.

“That was so embarrassing. Why would you do that?” Jaehyun's voice slices through the tension in the room, sharp and unforgiving, as he tosses his things onto the sofa, hastily following after you. His hair is disheveled, the stress showing in the wrinkles of his crumpled dress shirt.

“Embarrassing? Really, Jaehyun?" you snap, turning to face him. Your finger jabs into his chest before his hand grips your wrist with a force that’s all too unfamiliar. You flinch, momentarily stunned by the person in front of you—your husband, or at least, the man who used to be.

“Yes! You were embarrassing,” he seethes, shoving your arm away. “Throwing a tantrum like some kid who didn’t get their way? In front of my colleagues, my boss—God! Do you ever think before pulling stunts like that?”

He scoffs, letting his gaze rake over your tear-streaked face with a disdain that cuts deeper than any words.

“Or were you too busy trying to prove you were ‘right’ with your baseless accusations?”

A bitter laugh escapes you, disbelief spreading across your features. You cross your arms, trying to shield yourself from the hurt threatening to spill out. "Baseless? Are you kidding me, Jaehyun? I saw you, with another woman, sitting on your lap!"

"Keep your voice down. The kids are asleep!"

You scoff, voice trembling with both rage and heartbreak. "Now you care about the kids? After everything, you suddenly care about them? Is it because you're scared they'll realize their parents' marriage is a farce, that it’s not as perfect as we pretend it is? Or is it because you’re scared they’ll figure out their father’s a lying, cheating bastard?”

You stand there, the air thick with tension, your heart pounding as Jaehyun’s expression shifts from anger to something almost unreadable. For a moment, it seems like he might say something—apologize, perhaps, or at least try to explain himself. But instead, he just runs a hand through his hair, frustration etched into his features.

“Look, can we just—” he starts, but the words die on his lips when you shake your head, the gravity of the situation pulling you further from him.

“No,” you reply, your voice steadier than you feel. “You don’t get to just brush this off. I can’t believe you’d think I’d let it slide after what I saw.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but you hold up your hand, cutting him off. “I deserve better than this, Jaehyun. Better than to be treated like a fool. You’ve made your choice.”

His eyes flash with something that looks like guilt, and for a brief moment, it feels like you’re peering into the depths of his soul. But then he masks it with defiance. “You’re overreacting. You don’t know the whole story!”

“Then tell me!” you challenge, desperation creeping into your voice. “What could possibly justify you sitting with another woman like that?”

He falters, his bravado slipping as he grapples with his own defense. “It wasn’t what you think. She was just—”

“Just what?” You interject, your voice rising with frustration. “Just a friend? Just work-related? I’m done with the excuses!”

Jaehyun’s shoulders tense, his anger flaring again. “You think you can just accuse me and then walk away? This is ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous? You’re the one who was caught! You’re the one who made a fool out of me!” 

The room crackles with tension, each word throwing more fuel on the fire. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you made such a scene!” He shoots back, his voice rising.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so careless!” You yell, frustration boiling over. “You’ve turned this marriage into a joke, and I’m sick of it!”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to be here fighting with you? Maybe we’re just better off apart!”

The words hang in the air, sharp and stinging. You freeze, your heart racing at the sudden clarity in his statement. 

“Are you serious right now?” You demand, disbelief etched on your face.

“Yeah, I am!” He snaps back, anger and hurt twisting his features. “Maybe we’re just tired of trying to fix something that’s already broken!”

A bitter silence follows, the realization settling in like a heavy weight. You look at him, eyes blazing, and for the first time, you see how worn down he truly is. 

“Fine,” you say, voice trembling with emotion. “If that’s how you feel, then maybe we should just stop fighting it.”

“Maybe we should,” He replies, his voice cold and distant.

With that, the air between you shifts, the warmth of your connection replaced by a chilling reality. You turn away, tears threatening to spill as you grapple with the decision that has emerged from the chaos. This fight may have revealed the truth you both have been too afraid to confront: it’s time to let go.

[notebooks-and-laptops]

God I think sten in the fade might be the most heartbreaking one. Yes, Morrigan straight up can't believe her mother would ever care for her, yes Alistair just wants a family, yes Zev is out there literally getting tortured because that's familiar to him but there's something so subtle about Stens moment that I just love bringing him along.

Because he's...he knows. In a way. He knows exactly what's going on. He's not fooled into thinking this is real like Alistair or Wynne or Leliana or Zev. But equally he's not arguing his way out like Morrigan. When you talk to him he knows who you are, and why you're there, wants to make room for you at the fire.

Sten is... reminiscing. He's with these men who he knew who died and whose death signalled the end of his last true connection with home (both because of their deaths and because of the loss of his sword). He even says that the fade is no different from being in Orlais or Ferelden - none of it is home. It's such a stark contrast to Stens usual no nonsense tone and it really cuts to the heart of him and what makes him such a compelling character.

To get him to come with you, you remind him that he made an oath to you or other soldier things. Sten needs that order to be pulled from his memory here.

And it's just...it's heartbreaking. He misses home. He feels he can't go back. He doesn't know what the point is anymore. And it is the warden that quite literally gives him order and the ability to go back after his sword so he can head home. It's connection to people - you the protagonist specifically - that helps Sten move past his grief. And in that way, Sten mirrors Alistair and Oghren but that's a whole other post about themes of loss and grief and moving forward in origins ill make some other time.

(I also like it because it shows that Stens companions were joking about and very un-Sten like. I think there's this idea that flies about that before Bull was introduced, the Qunari were all very serious and stoic people and bull was a retcon in that regard. But we see Stens friends laughing about the lack of good food in Ferelden and making jokes)

[stagefoureddiediaz]

This quote is so heartbreaking

Newly estranged relationship😭😭😭 is bad enough but then to follow that with there’s no one in Eddie’s life really is soul destroying.

Buck supporting Eddie through this is a given - the very literal visual metaphor of Buck being at Eddie’s back - of having his back as well as being the supporting hand on his shoulder we saw at the end of the season as Chris left. This is the next phase of that and how it looks remains to be seen. The way this is worded suggests that Chris is going to refuse contact with Eddie - at least initially and that is going to really hurt Eddie.

To me it feels like we might see Buck being in contact with Chris and therefore being able to feed back to Eddie to be the one connection to Chris he has. But also then become some sort of mediator for them as things settle and time and distance allows perspective to be gained and anger to settle. This channel of communication between buck and Chris and Eddie is something we’ve seen develop through the seasons - Buck being a safe space for Chris - someone not his father he can talk to and open up to or go to for help, and also someone Eddie can do the same things with.

It feels like it’s very much going to be a continuation of that established dynamic and a way of tightening the bonds between the three of them further in the long run. It truly is very coparent loaded and really a compelling narrative to explore.

The no one in Eddie’s life really quote also is loaded. It gives rise to the concept that his reltionship with his parents is going to deteriorate as well - that they may refuse to give him information on Chris or not take his calls, not involve him in decisions about Chris that really should have his input.

I found Ryan saying Eddie’s going to lean on buck very interesting as well - especially as he also said

Bucks going to lean on Eddie as well. (Also second mentions of the relationship flourishing and being stronger than ever!)

The fact this is in direct opposition to what Tim said - that Eddie is going to end up feeling a bit out in the cold because Buck will be spending more time with Tommy is interesting. Because which one is it?

Obviously Tim likes to spin his words so they never mean what he actually says. So I take all his interviews with a pinch of salt but I do think we will see that distance he spoke about because it’s good for Eddie to have that space for himself.

Well it can actually be that both are true and that is really interesting from a story telling perspective - and not exactly as a point of conflict, but as a way of juxtaposing Eddie and Tommy - it’s the pulling of the triangle that Buck Eddie and Tommy form.

This idea that Buck is going to be dealing with Gerrard and pushing back against a very different authority figure to bobby has a lot of potential for Buck and his journey of self discovery and self love and acceptance that his arc seems to be set up for this season. I don’t want to talk about Buck and BT in a meta about Eddie though!

I’m really interested to see how Eddie let’s buck lean on him and what that support looks like. Because it will be exactly what Buck needs - Eddie understands Buck and how to nudge him in the right direction - it’s a key part of their dynamic and, I’m of the opinion that we’re going to see s8 as a sort of s3 redux so I think this next iteration of buck and Eddie’s relationship - with Eddie also leaning on Buck is going to be the fight club/ lawsuit arc but in juxtaposition. Whereas in s3 they didn’t lean on each other and support one another, this time they will - it will show how much they’ve changed and grown and trust one another since s3 and how much depth there is to them as a unit. (Which will also be a perfect juxtaposition of how little buck and Tommy know and trust one another!)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

jjk chapter 270 spoilers under the cut !!

GODDDDDDDDD I LOVED THIS CHAPTER. I LOVED IT SO SO MUCH . i feel so high rn you guys don’t UNDERSTAND 😭😭😭 it gave me literally everything i wanted (minus gojo stuff but we’ll get to that) AND I’M JUST !!!!!!!!!!!! i feel so satisfied . all is right with the world . i am a happy mouse

i love love loveeeee the fact that akutami finally decided to pick up (most) of the loose ends — at least the ones from the culling game !!!!!! it’s my favorite arc and i really adore all the side characters, so getting to see them all again was so nice 🥹 and my biggest criticism for akutami’s writing in general has been how he leaves these loose threads behind him, so i’m glad this chapter went back to piece them together. there’s still obviously a lot i would’ve liked to see before the finale, but this chapter finally made me feel somewhat satisfied with it all …..

buuuuut okok!!! let me get through some stuff <3

^^^^ THIS . THANK YOUUUUUUUUU GOD 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 ALL I WANTED WAS SOME FINAL SHOKO CRUMBS . THAT’S LITERALLY ALL. i love her so much chat …………. THE BUN :((((((( i wonder if she’s paying tribute to suguru, in a way. since she can’t make his grave all nice like she did with tsumiki’s. <- WHICH IS ALSO . so heartbreaking :((((( shoko has been the closest to death and corpses out of everyone.

’that moron should’ve let me handle geto’s body, too’……… gojo thought he was doing her a favour by not forcing her to dispose of him, but i wonder if his decision only caused her more suffering? :’) either way i loveeee shoko and i think her character is so wonderful. her not believing in an afterlife is also so in character LMAO, my little cynicist <3333

^^^^^ AND THEN THIS . PEEEEEERFECT. SO PERFECT. shoko and her cigarette motif :’)))))))) SHE FINALLY QUIT AGAIN . SHE IS AT PEACE . also need to mention how fucking cute she looks ……. i neeeed to squish her cheeks !!!!! she’s my baby !!!!!!!!!!

i will say that . obviously . i would’ve loved for her to get a more concrete final moment with stsg :’) like her being at the airport, or something. overall i’m satisfied with this being her ending of sorts (though if gojo is alive i’d obviously like to see them talk)…… she hasn’t gotten as much spotlight in this manga as she’s rightfully deserved, but i do think her character writing has been lovely and consistent throughout everything, and she remains one of my ult favorites <3333333 i LOVE my wife. love all her little quirks . i hope she quits smoking forever and ever!!!!!!!

ahh, it was also nice to see them mention tengen!!!! and how the barrier techniques worked. again, i’m just really happy that we’re not letting plotpoints go unfinished 😭😭 i also think it’s . a little romantic. that tengen’s barriers will exist as long as sukuna’s remnants remain . the tengen / sukuna / kenny trio is very interesting to me (MORE ON THAT . LATER.)

THEN WE ALSO HAVE THIS !!!!!!!!!

^ this moment means . soooo much to me. will try to get my thoughts out coherently but this theme really resonates with me so deeply :’) since the beginning of the manga, jujutsu society has been built on the foundation that is the suffering of youth — adults casting blame and burdens on children. like the higher ups who hide up at the top and force the children to work themselves to the bone. we saw this so clearly in hidden inventory most of all. and gojo is the anti thesis of that society — he wants to preserve youth !!!!!! even nanami, who didn’t really have any clear desires to change the fundamentals of their society, did his best to protect children as an adult.

so to see gakuganji refer to utahime and nitta as young (even though they’re both grown adults)….. and say that ’they needn’t worry over this just yet’…… i think. it shows how much the society is already improving. with someone like gakuganji in charge. and also kusakabe, who basically told the trio to just be kids last chapter, and leave the hard stuff to the adults (can’t remember his exact wording lmao but he said it so perfectly)…… it just warms my heart. jujutsu sorcery is still a shitshow but as least the children won’t be as exploited anymore (or at the very least, there are good adults around them, who will bear most of the burden on their own backs). idk. i just loved this moment sm :’))))))

ahhhhh, and and and !!!!!! mr katana and mr sumo 🥺 IT WAS SM FUN SEEING EVERYONE AGAINNNN and it was so sweet seeing maki try to look out for them a little after they helped her ……..

^ maki and her middle aged man besties …… :3

AND THEN CHARLES !!!!! MY BOY !!!!!!!!!!! just needed to mention him lmao. i love him T_T happy that he’s working on his trashy little manga. keep up the good work king <3333333 SAME WITH THE FORMER BULLY . sorry can’t be bothered to remember his name ….. the pudding guy. you know who i mean. seeing him apologize and try to make amends was rlly heartwarming …….. i really am so happy to see all culling game characters happy and alive . WHERE IS REMI THOUGH . 🤨

…… but okay . okay. okayyy.

actually yk what we’re saving the best for last ^^ ONTO HANA AND MEGUMIIIIIII WHAT A CUTE MOMENT . SOOOO CUTE . i don’t ship them at all i think they’re adorable though …… AND HANA IS SOOOOOOO GODDAMN CUTE I CAN’T EVEN EXPLAIN IT ????? :((( I NEED TO SQUISH HERRR

^ LOVE this line . my brother pointed this out but isn’t it like …. eerily similar to that akiangel scene 😭 lmao. i just really love this. megumi offering to be her right hand because ’he’ was the one who took it from her ……. he’s such a good boy :< also instantly pictured him being her scary knight/guard dog and yk what maybe this ship could sail after all…..

^ THEN THISSSSS 😭 THEY’RE SO CUTE. MEGUMI IS SO FUCKING AWKWARD HANG IN THERE BUDDY ………….

ah i forgot to mention higuruma …… i love him!!!!!!!!! i love him a ton!!!!!!!!!!!! :’3 i think seeing his junior demand a retrial for the sake of justice meant a lot to him. i could go deeper into it because higu’s character is so dense but yeah !!! very fitting ending for him …… i’m kinda sad that he’s cursed to be an overworked sorcerer though 💀 hang in there king…

AND THENNN WE HAVE :333c A NEW MISSION… feels kinda nice to go back to our roots. i have literally NO idea what’s gonna happen though 😭 hopefully tied to gojo….??? for the record i obviously want him to live and will have Many things to say if it turns out he’s really been dead this whole time, but. we’ll save that for the next chapter <3 for now i’m just happy to see the babies back together….

^ noba being gay ……. all is right with the world 🥹

BUT OKAY . ENOUGH. ENOUGH ABOUT THATTTT ENOUGH ABOUT EVERYTHING ONLY ONE THING REMAINS AND IT’S THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS. akutami loves me and only me and this chapter finally confirmed that once and for all…..

I FUCKING . SCREAMED. YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND.

TAKABAAAAAAAAAAAAAA FIRST OF ALL? I MISSED HIM . I MISSED MY BABY 🥺🥺🥺 BUT SECOND OF ALL WHAT THE FUCKKKKK WHAT THE FUCK ALL MY PRAYERS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED???? THIS IS ALL IVE EVER WANTED????????? i’ve been telling my brother that if i could manifest one thing i’d want jjk to end with takaba on stage with kenjaku without it ever been elaborated on AND MY PRAYERS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED . I’M SO HAPPY YOU DON’T GET ITTT

there’s so much to say ……… truly ………. these two make me insane ………… will start with: they’re so funny. they’re so gay. kenny wanting to make sex jokes like the freak he is. THEY’RE TOGETHER GUYS 🥹 THE KENKABA SPINOFF MANGA I WANTED IS RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY EYES .

….. but also !!!!! truly truly trulyyyyy — i love this. i love how akutami did this. this is kenjaku’s final scene, and it’s perfect for them!! it’s so chaotic…. they left sorcery behind for a life of stand up comedy 😭 AND IT’S SOOO IN CHARACTER . IT REALLY IS. what kenjaku wants, what they’ve claimed to want since shibuya, is to create chaos that not even they will be able to control, using cursed energy. and takaba is exactly that. kenny created takaba’s cursed technique using the culling game, and takaba is chaos personified!!! a chaos kenjaku can’t control!!!!!! as dissatisfied as i was with yuuta just swooping in and cutting their head off i did think that the takaba fight was a really clever and perfect end to kenjaku :3

soooo — it makes sense that kenjaku would go back to takaba. they had fun with him!!!! he matches their energy!!!!!! and takaba could easily have saved his life using his ct, which i think is the implication here. i love that kenny’s face is obscured, it just feels like such a fun little thing to throw in at the end 😭 but i doooo genuinely think this is akutami’s way of implying that kenny is alive and living the happy yaoi life with takaba . as they fucking should.

i also wanna say !!!!! that i think it’s so thematically fitting that kenjaku’s ending is soooo different from tengen’s and sukuna’s . i LOVE this aspect of it so much; kenjaku is the most morally corrupt of the three, and also the most human. sukuna is a human turned calamity, who slumbered for centuries, and tengen is a shut-in who ended up mimicking sukuna’s appearance while only maintaining human contact through a barrier. kenjaku laughs at them for it. he hates them for being so passive, because kenny is the opposite of that — he’s lived through it all!!!!!! changed with the centuries!!!!!!! so i think it’s just ….. soooo perfect and tasty that sukuna and tengen now only exist as remnants, as barriers, just like they did before — while kenjaku chooses to live, and takes an entirely different approach. they’re so fucking chaotic and i adore them. i can’t explain how much i love their character …… i really can’t ……… :’3

i’m just . still so happy . i really thought it was kenover…… i didn’t think they’d get an ending so perfect………………. i really, really hope akutami comes in clutch and gives gojo the same treatment :’) even if the chances are slim. i thought this chapter was absolutely lovely and i hope with allllll my heart that i end up enjoying the final chapter too.

……….. i think ……. that’s all 😭 (if you’ve read this far i’m kissing you with tongue btw). THANK YOU FOR BEARING WITH ME !!!!!! this chapter made me feel so genuinely satisfied and giddy and i’m super sleepy and tired but i just needed to rant :’3 i love kenjaku. they’re so silly . such a brat. i wanna kiss them. takaba too actually. we are in a happy polycule

[astrow0rldx]

PAC TAROT: Shadow Work

Piles read left to right. Really use your intuition for which one calls to you to read. This Reading will be a little different, because it's ai generated. But hear me out, it's extremely accurate. I pull the tarot cards, and questions and it makes a story using automatic creative writing skills. In the story format it should help understand better.

Pile One

You present yourself as someone grounded and nurturing, someone who has it all together—capable, reliable, and a provider of stability. You wear this mask of self-sufficiency with grace, offering support and care to those around you. There’s a warmth to how you handle life, as if you’re always the one others can lean on. Yet, beneath this persona, there’s a quiet dissatisfaction, an emotional numbness that you don’t let others see. You feel disconnected, like something essential is missing, but you avoid acknowledging it, preferring to maintain the image of having everything under control.

Deep down, there’s a fear of rejection and abandonment that colors how you see yourself and your place in the world. This fear stems from past experiences where you felt left out or unworthy, perhaps from moments when you reached out for support and were met with coldness or lack. That sense of being shut out has led you to withdraw emotionally, burying your desires and vulnerabilities under layers of self-protection. However, this hidden wound shapes how you move through the world—it keeps you from fully expressing the vibrant, fiery side of yourself, the part of you that is bold, passionate, and fearless. While you project strength, this shadow lingers in the background, holding you back from fully owning your power.

Your shadow comes to the surface when you’re confronted by people or situations that reflect confidence and control, especially when they embody traits you’ve repressed. These encounters stir something inside you, triggering internal conflict as your shadow self clashes with the persona you’ve carefully built. The lesson in this struggle is to reconnect with your emotional core, to allow yourself to feel deeply and openly once again. Healing comes through embracing the tension, acknowledging that inner battles are a part of your growth. By working through this, you’ll move toward a more patient and nurturing relationship with yourself, where you invest in long-term growth and understand that healing is a process—one that requires steady effort and care.

Pile Two

She finds herself in a state of suspension, caught between holding onto control and surrendering to the unknown. Outwardly, she appears strong, composed, and authoritative, someone who takes charge with ease and thrives in an orderly world. She presents herself as the one in control, the one who always knows what to do. However, beneath this confident exterior, she’s struggling with uncertainty. She feels stuck, as if the answers she’s searching for are just out of reach, and in order to find them, she knows she must let go of the rigid expectations she’s placed on herself. She wears the mask of authority, but behind it, she is deeply uncertain, torn between what she knows and what she longs to discover.

At her core, she craves connection—a relationship where she can feel deeply understood and loved. There's a romantic within her, yearning for a bond that feels effortless and sincere, as if she’s waiting for that perfect emotional partnership. But she’s haunted by past disappointments, memories of love that didn’t turn out the way she hoped. This loss lingers, making her cautious about trusting her heart again. She often revisits those past moments of grief, wondering what went wrong and fearing that opening herself up to love again will lead to more heartbreak. As much as she wants love, the weight of her emotional past makes her guard her feelings, holding back from diving fully into new connections.

Her fears and vulnerabilities surface when emotions become overwhelming, or when she’s faced with situations that push her to move too fast. In those moments, she becomes protective, holding onto her feelings and resources tightly, afraid of losing control or being vulnerable. Her instinct is to cling to what she knows, but there’s also a deeper truth: her dreams and fantasies about what could be are not just idle thoughts. They reflect her true desires, the part of her that longs to break free from her hesitation and embrace all the possibilities that life offers. To heal, she needs to release the fear of losing control, to trust that even if things are uncertain, the journey ahead is rich with opportunities—ones she’s fully capable of seizing, if only she lets go.

Pile Three

She is moving through a period of transition, quietly distancing herself from past conflicts and emotional turbulence. Her journey, both literal and metaphorical, is one of seeking peace and clarity after enduring a storm. On the outside, she may seem calm, as though she’s finally found her direction, but the waters behind her are still unsettled. Internally, she is recovering from struggles, possibly with others or even within herself. The tension and discord she’s left behind still echo in her thoughts, making it difficult for her to fully let go. While she appears to be progressing, there is a quiet battle inside her, as if she’s constantly bracing for the next challenge.

Her internal struggle centers on patience and the need to balance her desires with the reality of what she’s building. She has invested time and energy into something—perhaps a relationship, a career, or personal growth—and now she waits, unsure of the outcome. There's a restlessness beneath her calm exterior, a feeling of competition, either with herself or with others. She yearns for stability and celebration, for a moment when she can finally relax and feel secure, but she is deeply aware that the foundation she’s working on still needs time to solidify. Emotionally, she is tied to the idea of love and partnership, but her past battles have made her wary. Love feels both close and distant, like something she craves but is cautious about fully embracing.

Her emotional depth runs deep, though she doesn’t always show it. She is someone who feels intensely, yet she’s learned to control and temper her feelings. When her emotions rise, they are powerful, but she channels them carefully, maintaining a composed exterior. Her greatest strength lies in her intuition. She often knows more than she lets on, reading situations and people with a subtle, almost mystical understanding. But this also makes her guarded, as if she’s protecting herself from being hurt again. She’s been through many trials, and though she’s weary, she remains resilient. Her journey is far from over, and while the battles she’s faced have left her cautious, they have also made her wiser. She stands ready to move forward, but she knows the path ahead will require both patience and strength.

[dailydoseoflhs]

04: Media.

══════════════════════════════

Lucille receives a notification from Instagram. Her eyes reads along the line of THE Charles Leclerc liking her story and her post.

The first instinct she does was to call Julia and fangirl with her.

The two girls was screaming at the top of their lungs as if they have won a lottery. Her profile getting followed and her post getting more engagement due to Charles' engagement to it.

Her phone pings, Julia sending her articles of "their" supposed relationship. When in fact, her and him are completely strangers to one another.

Some fans goes far as calling her homewrecker saying that she ruined Alexandra's ans Charles' perfect relationship.

Lucille hangs the call, closing her phone to detox.

"Anak? Okay ka lang ba?" (Lucille? Are you okay?) Her mother questions as she enters the room with Lucille's favorite snack.

"Okay lang po ako, ma." (I'm fine, mom) Lucille answers with an assuring smile on her lips.

The girl takes the snack and place it on her nightstand. Her mother was not chronically online, so she remains oblivious to what is happening.

The media is now calling her the new love interest. The scary part is, they are trying to get more information on her.

Good thing, she doesn't input her information in any of her social media accounts. Only birthday and nickname.

"She's 9 years younger"

"That's an age gap trope😍"

Some approves due and some remains not so happy with it.

══════════════════════════════

withlove_lucille posted a story 1min ago●

══════════════════════════════

Notification 🔔

@charles_leclerc liked your story

@charles_leclerc has started following you back

══════════════════════════════

Lucille saw the notification and decided to ignore it.

Charles is definitely just being a nice gentleman and appreciating his fans support for him. She knows that the man is still undergoing a heartbreak recovery.

Probably, sooner Charles will undo everything and realizes he is being hazy.

But Lucille despite her self-assurance could not shake it off. Why her? Why did he chose her to interact with? Was there any reasons?

Something in her mind is telling her something.

The invisible red string glowing gold as two soulmates has found their way to one another.

Entangled with hardship but by the looks of the string, it was a string that is strong and cannot be cut off.

══════════════════════════════

Meanwhile.

Charles accidentally liked his fan's post and story. Her congratulating him and posting him on his story, he felt big joy seeing it.

He knows his fans are ones who never gives up on him and so, he will not give up on them either.

Charles couldn't undo the like thinking that the user might think he didn't like their post and story, so he let it be.

But the next few hours, he didn't expect that it will blow up and a theory about his relationship. He couldn't understand, why he couldn't appreciate his fans at peace without a rumor being created?

He returns to the user's profile and liked the newly posted story about the situation, them clearing things up.

Charles accidentally clicked the follow as if his finger has its own mind. He panics making him close the phone and pace around the room.

He couldn't unfollow the user now especially his eagle-eyed fans that saw him following the account.

He is so doom. He is so done.

The media will have a field day with this. All because his fingers always slips up with this particular account.

Indeed, the medias has released articles about it already. Not even an hour passed and there are articles already.

He starts to feel bad for the person he dragged into this. The innocent person behind the account will be entangled in this mess.

Despite his panic, there is a certain feeling of familiarity. A sense of knowing towards the account as if he have know the person behind it for a long time.

The red string of fate do really have its own way. The accidents that he experience were not accidents but a glimpse of the future.

MASTERLIST || PREVIOUS || NEXT

Author's note

Update for you all! I survived my midterms, I'm kinda free from uni works...but I can't say I'll update regularly.

Regarding the taglist, it is open for everyone. I still have to fix it as I can't tag some accounts.

🏁🆑️🏎❤️

[0hnogracie]

I Love You. Im Sorry.

SUMMARY : Angst , no happy ending , heartbreak , mention of y/n

christophersturniolo posted on instagram

liked by y/nburniolo and 67,562 others

hello private account 💜

TAGGED : ameliaroselordi

———————————————————————————

USER : what happend to y/n?

view 8k comments

Y/NBURNIOLO : chris?, what is this?

↪️ CHRISTOPHERSTURNIOLO : y/n. I Can explain

NICOLASSTURNIOLO : chris? what the fuck. call me

MATTSTURNIOLO : really? cheating on y/n with a bougie bitch

↪️ Y/NBURNIOLO : Ily matt

USER : this was NOT your private account.

↪️ USER : no shit sherlock

———————————————————————————

After seening chris new post on instagram i didnt know how to react. Do i be mad, Sad? Im honestly both right now. He made me look so stupid, Atleast i know the reason hes been ghosting me. For some rip off blonde bitch thats been wanting to be me?. I always choose the wrong guys. I feel like a fucking fool.

INCOMING CALL ‘ Chris 💜 ‘

I pick it up ‘ What Do You Want Chris? ‘ i spoke softly into the microphone waiting for him to start talking. ‘ Y/n You Have To Let Me Explain! ‘ he says quickly ‘ No Chris You Left Me For Some Bougie Bitch. ‘ I say hanging up starting to tear up all over again. I hear my door open ‘ Chris?! What The Fuck Get Out! ‘ i say shouting at him with tears coming down my face

TWO AUGUSTS AGO .

‘ Please Y/n, Im Sorry. Let Me Explain ‘ He spoke softly ‘ Why Chris?, What Is There To Even Explain. ‘ I say sitting back on my bed avoiding any type of eye contact with chris. ‘ Y/n It Was A Honest Mistake. I Promise. ‘

THATS THE WAY LIFE GOES .

‘ Chris.. We Have To Stop Seeing EachOther. We Either Have To Break Up Or Take A Break. ‘ I spoke firmly holding back the tears that im fighting ‘ Y/n We Cant Break Up. ‘ He Says Sounding Hurt But Im Not Gonna Fall For His Tricks Anymore.

I LOVE YOU, IM SORRY.

‘ Please Y/n. I Love You, Im Sorry. ‘ He Spoke confidently sitting down next to me trying to hold my hand. ‘ But You Still Cheated On Me Right? And You Choose The Girl i HATED The Most. ‘ I say pushing his hands away from mine

YOU WERE THE BEST BUT YOU WERE THE WORST

‘ Y/n Just One More Chanc- ‘ I cut him off ‘ No Chris. Leave My House, And Dont Call Or Text me. ‘ I say making my final decision And pointing at the front door giving him a sign for him to actually leave. ‘ Fine. Bye Y/n I Love You ‘

THATS JUST THE WAY LIFE GOES

His i love you sounded so real but maybe im in denial. I hate men, They never know what they want. I feel Like a loser for whatever just happened just now. Its not like chris but maybe its my mind thinking that.

Y/N HAS CHANGED HER INSTA USER ‘0hnoy/n’

0hnoy/n has posted on instagram

Liked by Christophersturniolo and 98,721 others

The “ I love you’s “ that are repeated in my head like a music note.

TAGGED : oliviarodrigo

———————————————————————————

USER : Bye y/ns Really pretty 😍

❤️ by 0hnoy/n

OLIVIARODRIGO : Our pumpkins we’re so good 😊!!

↪️ 0HNOY/N : I agree MY FAV ONE GOT MESSED UP.

CHRISTOPHERSTURNIOLO : i meant it

↪️ USER : what does this mean ?

↪️ 0HNOY/N : Idk him

disliked by christophersturniolo

View more comments ….

CHRIS 💜

y/n please talk to me

Y/N 😊❤️

What?

CHRIS 💜

Can we try over?

Y/N 😊❤️

Not a chance chris. Stop texting me or im blocking you.

CHRIS 💜

But!

*a contact has been blocked*

A few months later I made a song called ‘ I love you im sorry ‘ Publishing it. It blew up and i gained more support and followers supporting my music i even gained some fanpages and edits. Until i seen a dm from someone i never wanted to see again.

———————————————————————————

A/N : sorry guys deal w that ending cus idk how to end this story AND I LIKE NEVER WRITED BEFORE SO THIS IS KINDA MY FIRST STORY PLS GUVE TIPS OR SMTH THANK U.

[hiraethwa]

one summer day

16 chasm. where the distance becomes too much to bear

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pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader word count: 2.6k warnings: ushi mom being a bitch <3, heartbreak, denial, running away

“i don’t know what to say to you except that it tore my heart out of my body saying goodbye to you”

you deal with the gaping hole in your chest the only way you know how to—avoiding the source of your heartbreak. 

wakatoshi finds his bentos packed on the dining table each morning without fail, with you nowhere in sight; his dinner waiting for him under the mesh food cover by the time he comes home, missing his usual dinner companion. the sweet daifukus he bought from your favorite shop for you as some sort of shitty makeup bribe sits untouched on the table. 

two weeks fly by as you both settle into your new unspoken routine. he understands the distance between you, tries his damned hardest to respect the space you needed. it takes all of his willpower not to knock on your door and beg for your forgiveness. 

so when he sees you for the first time since he broke your heart, it takes him by surprise. 

you must have gotten lost in your thoughts as you absentmindedly finish arranging the food in the bento, delicate fingers expertly pulling the ends of the furoshiki into a simple knot.

your name slips out in a shaky whisper, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic hint of nervousness. like a loyal believer seeing his faith for the first time.

you freeze like a deer in headlights. he curses himself.

“you don’t have to say anything to me.” for the first time, he rushes to fill the silence with words, hoping he didn’t scare you away. “i just wasn’t sure—” if you are real

wakatoshi watches as your shoulders start to rise and fall, as if overwhelmed with emotion. he shakes his head at himself, backtracking towards his own room to give you space. 

“i’ll be away next week for a family gathering,” he says softly, hoping you would say something, anything. he wishes you would scream and yell at him instead. anything would be a lot better than the silence that emanates from your end. 

but you don’t say a word as your fingers shakily smooth over the worn furoshiki, so he closes his door gently behind him, sliding to his knees. 

-

the stupid falcon plushie from tanabata used to sit on your bed. then in the open suitcase. now it sits in the corner of your room when you impulsively decided to not bring it to paris.

you spent two whole weeks avoiding him successfully through careful planning. the pain that came in fresh waves threatening to pull you under slowly became bearable day by day until you could breathe without it seizing your lungs. 

so you thought that perhaps, you could pretend that it never happened. unfortunately, that was delusional of you. 

the moment you heard his voice, everything came rushing back. every moment, every word from him that drove the dagger deeper into the organ keeping you alive and twisted it flooded your mind. and helplessly, you were dragged under the waves of pain welcoming you to your own version of hell.

you could only freeze, seized by your overwhelming emotions. feeling like you were thrust into the treacherous sea, yanked downwards and downwards into the unknown darkness.

so sadly that was not an option. 

secretly you were relieved to learn that he is leaving for a week, a whole week where you didn’t have to tiptoe around the apartment, afraid of running into him. 

you were tired of packing your life into a suitcase, which you expected to be a straightforward task, seeing as you only brought a few boxes with you to tokyo. but there were many choices to be made—between one winter coat and another—do you really need so many t-shirts—and they are all sending your frayed nerves into overdrive.

you opt for taking a lap around the nearby park, and surprisingly, you run into someone you recognize the moment you stepped out of the apartment complex. a familiar face from miyagi.

“is wakatoshi home?” she asks after exchanging polite pleasantries. 

“not yet, do you want to wait for him?” 

“that’s alright. care to join me for some coffee or tea?” 

you accept the invitation, curiosity winning over your better judgment. 

the tea room she chooses is surprisingly quiet in the middle of the work week. you would have thought it would be more populated considering the upscale society that it caters to.

you were “how are you doing?”

you look up from the menu, puzzled at her question. 

“men can be so careless, i know that from my own experience.” oh, so that’s where she’s going. you wonder how much she knows—how much ushijima told his mom. 

“i’m fine. thank you for your concern, ushijima-san.” you wince a little at the reminder their shared name brings you.

“good. i’m glad to hear that.” she sets her copy of the menu down on the pristine marbled table surface, gracefully waving over an attendant who takes your orders and repeats them back to you verbatim. 

her full attention returns to you, eyeing you with intensity. you aren’t sure if you made the right decision to not reject an elder’s offer. 

“are you coming to miyagi next week as well? wakatoshi never told me how many of his friends are coming to his yuino.” you blink at the word. 

yuino. the traditional engagement ceremony. 

the yawning pain in your chest stutters in confusion, but she blazes ahead, blissfully unaware—or uncaring, you realize much later—of the devastation that must be showing on your features. “it must be hard for you, knowing that wakatoshi is going to be engaged to someone else in a week.”

she gives you a look of sympathy. “i didn’t mean for you to be caught in the crossfire, y/n. it must be hard for you, i saw the way you looked at my son.” 

you blink again. it takes everything you have left to remember to breathe. 

you don’t recall anything else after that. your mind taken hostage by your memories of the past winter, of him and his mother and her. was that his future fiancee? 

of course she is. she is everything you are not, so much more than you have to offer him. 

you look down at your empty teacup, licking your lips. your tongue feels numb, as if you’ve burnt yourself drinking the tea. like icarus flying too close to the sun. 

looking at her retreating figure stepping into a car, you can’t help but wonder if she was here for you. 

-

you wonder if he ever planned to tell you that he is promised to another. 

it is an answer you will never know since you don’t give him any chances to in the four days leading up to the time he leaves for miyagi. 

the confirmation email from your college sits opened in your inbox, along with your one-way flight ticket to paris when semi comes barging into the apartment with kai, having unlocked the front door with the hidden spare key.

“eita,” you blink up at him, the haze clouding your mind clearing for the first time in days. the ghost living in the shell of your body remembering it is alive. 

“you better have an explanation for ignoring all my calls and texts for the past week.”

you cock your head to the side in confusion. the muddied feeling of hopelessness and yearning like no other in your chest swirling with every movement. the longing, missing, grieving of someone who is very much alive but no longer the same. 

everything has changed. 

oh, why does it feel like the world is ending? it must be the reason your self-preservation instincts have kicked in, blocking everything out.

“did i miss our plans for dinner?”

you try to rack your brain for the source of the suffocating emotions filling the immense void in your chest, only to be met with resistance. a gentle push keeping you away from the answers you seek. 

“that was two days ago. why haven’t you returned any of my calls or texts? did you know how worried i was? even ushijima couldn’t reach you.” semi stands above where you sit on the floor with stacks of clothes and sentimental items tucked away in the suitcases splayed open on either side of you.

ushijima. the familiar name sparks a staggering pain to life in your chest, spreading like wildfire, blazing with a light so bright, it rivals the sun itself. 

your hands tighten around yourself subconsciously at the name. 

he used to be your sun.

“what’s wrong?” semi kneels next to you, gently touching your shoulder. he exchanges a concerned look with kai at the faraway look in your eyes. 

“i don’t know, eita,” you lean into his touch, the first physical touch you felt in weeks. a reminder that you are not alone. you had forgotten. you breathe the truth as you know it—“i’m not quite sure anything is right anymore.”

“can i lean against you? just for a few minutes?” the despair in your eyes sends semi clambering to sit next to you, to provide any comfort he could to his friend. 

you take a few moments to gather your scattered thoughts, but they disperse like clouds when you reach out for them. you answer his earlier question as truthfully as you could, “i don’t know. i don’t know how to carry on, eita. how do i live with this pain that feels like my heart was ripped out of my chest?”

“what did he do?” you know who semi is referring to. after all, there is only space for him in your heart, was only ever space for him. 

“it doesn’t matter, does it? i still have to continue living.”

“right, but—”

“i don’t want to talk about him,” mentioning him feels like poison on your tongue. you scramble to find a handhold at the anger that rises in you in response. the indignation that he actually did lead you on, taking what you offered to him with love, all while knowing that he was promised to someone else. he chose her. 

neither semi nor kai feels any less cautious of your condition, the cloudiness in your eyes clearing to show a reckless sharpness that tries to redirect the pain you are feeling elsewhere. 

semi holds his hands up in surrender. “okay. that’s fine. do you want to grab supper with us? get out of the apartment for a bit?”

“yeah, sure.” you glance at the open suitcases. “i think i’m all packed up and ready to go anyway.” 

“i thought you’re not leaving for another week.” 

you wave him off. “my plans changed. my flight is leaving tomorrow.”

“and you didn’t think to tell me?” semi sounds hurt by your dismissal. 

“i—” you frown at yourself. you hadn’t thought of that. too deep in your own pain, you forgot about the people who actually cared about you. “i’m sorry. i was too wrapped up in my own pain, i forgot—”

“i’m sorry.” you withdraw from him, physically and emotionally. the sorrow in your bones inviting you back to their familiar embrace in the cold darkness, in a world accustomed to the absence of the warm sun. 

“y/n” kai’s voice brings you back to reality, as she tugs you to your feet. she gives semi a look to drop the matter, especially since it only seems to send you back to that space that snuffs the light out of your eyes. “come on, let’s get some food in you, yeah?”

you give her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, allowing them to accompany you for food one last time before you go. 

-

“when is your flight tomorrow?” semi asks you as they drop you off from your last supper with the happy couple. 

you toy with the charm on your bag, rubbing the metal absentmindedly. “why? are you going to tell him?” 

“is he not supposed to know?”

you shrug. “i don’t think he would care.”

“you know that’s not true—”

“don’t, semi. don’t tell me that. you don’t know that. i don’t know that. we both thought he felt the same way towards me as i do for him, and it sure doesn’t feel that way right now.” 

you widen your eyes in surprise as the words escape your mind. 

“do you want to talk about it?” kai asks you softly, as semi stares back at you in disbelief, mind running through the possible scenarios of what exactly happened between the two of you in the few weeks since his birthday. his birthday.

he swears under his breath. something must have happened between then and now. 

“no. just don’t tell him, okay? promise me, semi.” 

he really, really wants to strangle someone, but he begrudgingly gives you his word to not say anything to his former captain. you didn’t say anything about a certain red-haired boy, however. 

you relent. “my flight is at 4pm.” you had already told them why you had to move up your plans—a last-minute withdrawal that resulted in an invitation being extended to you for a pre-semester bootcamp that you were waitlisted for.

“was whatever happened between you two so bad that you’re not bothering to tell him that you’re leaving? despite what you had?” kai gives him a warning look to shut the fuck up.

“why don’t you ask him yourself? i mean it, semi. go ahead, ask him, and while you are at it, ask him if he planned on telling you why he is really in miyagi right now.” 

“what do you mean?” you wonder if the promised violence in his voice is meant for you or him. 

“it isn’t my place to say. but believe me when i say this, semi.” you turn to look at him in the eyes solemnly. “i am truly sorry for dropping all this on you on the last second. i was too self-absorbed to remember anything but the pain i was drowning in. you are my best friend, but i won’t make you choose between us.”

“the truth is despite everything that happened, i still love—” gods, his name is stuck in your throat. “him, but i can’t see a world where we can still be friends because of that. you know there isn’t a world where we are just friends.”

“could you let me be selfish just this once, for the sake of my sanity? when i get to paris, you will be the only one i stay in contact with.” i don’t know how to say goodbye to him.

“just so you know, i am not happy with whatever the fuck this situation is, but i will respect your wishes.”

you smile ruefully at your first friend in high school, pulling him in for a goodbye hug. “thank you, semi eita.”

kai goes next, your arms engulfing her shorter figure. “thank you for taking care of him, kai. i’m counting on you to steer him clear of bad decisions while i’m gone.” you wink at her, a poor attempt at lifting the mood. 

“i don’t know when i will be back, but you two should definitely visit me in paris sometime. stay happy for me, will you?” you say your goodbyes again for the last time in a long time. 

when you lay in bed that night, your bags all packed and rolled out to the hallway, you realize you forgot to remove the cheap glow-in-the-dark stars you pasted over the ceiling to remind you that you are no longer in miyagi. 

you had survived miyagi, but at what cost?

a/n: in my head, y/n is in disbelief and feels betrayed, yet it still makes sense why toshi would pick someone else over her </3 peak heartbreak

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