#feeling responsible for this and not knowing how to talk about it and feeling even weirder because your ghost ex girlfriend is still

[unluckilyimnot]

Playing with their hair – aether, kinich, wanderer, rin, sae, sakura

note: i'm just in love with aether and kinich recently and i needed to write something with aether's hair so why not had some of my fav characters along with them. that's probably not really good but i guess it's cute. ooc

m.list | rules

Aether is used to your hands suddenly laying on his hair, running through them when you walk behind him – it’s like an urge, you just have to. You stopped on your track, bowing to kiss his head, inhaling his shampoo a little and hummed at the sweet scent.

“You took my shampoo again,” you mentioned, not in a warning way, more like you appreciate it. He nodded lightly, delighting himself from the feeling of your hands still running through his hair, scratching his scalp a little before kissing it again.

Sensing that you’re about to go away, his hands take yours gently and his head bent down to look up at you. “Already leaving ? We can both take a break…” he said, subtly implying you to not stop yet, making you giggle.

“Sure, we can.”

That’s basically how he ended up sitting on the floor between your thighs, watching a movie while you brush his hair for him, kindly letting your fingers run down his beautifully long hair – trying small, low buns to one high ponytail.

“Having fun ?” You can hear the smile in his voice, amused as always when he let you enjoy his hair more than he does.

“Always.” you said while kissing his nose from above, hiding the tv from his sight for a mere second but he still whines at you for doing so. Such a crybaby.

Kinich sighs as he feels your hands examining his hair again. “Would you stop doing that ?”

He knows you’re not doing this to annoy him, yet it always kind of stresses him to picture you scanning his scalp without any invitation to do so. He also knows that you don’t care about what he says, continuing to play with his hair while you swipe away some dandruff here and there.

“What’s the matter,” you talked back, seemingly frustrated. “You never say anything when it’s to help you fall asleep.” you argued, feeling really satisfied when he doesn’t find anything to say after that. It for sure helps a lot, he can’t argue with that, but he really hoped you could realize that it works all the time and not only when he wants it to – which means he was getting sleepy, slightly closing his eyes while he still had a lot to do.

A satisfied sigh escaped his lips before he could hold it in and you hummed teasingly. Your hands moved from his head to his chest, your arms caging him against you and you laid your head on top of his. “Tired already ?”

“Shut it.” he sounded harsh but he still rested against your chest as well, feeling at peace being so close to you. He wasn’t really tired but if you let him, Kinich would for sure appreciate some quality time with his head in your chest and your hands in his hair. Not that he’ll say it to you.

Wanderer honestly never mind when you ask him if you can play with his hair, he’s usually already busy and not moving so someone touching his hair while studying doesn’t change much for him. He won’t say that it doesn’t make it easy to concentrate since he, sometimes, tends to focus on this more than on the words written in front of him but he still appreciates how peaceful it makes him feel when he’s particularly worried or stressed.

Your hand running through his short strands of hair takes him somewhere else where he doesn’t need to worry as much, he likes it, even if he would never be physically capable of telling you.

“You’re braiding it ?” he asks, half absent in his question – he just wanted to confirm the feeling of your fingers brushing past his cheeks repeatedly. You hummed softly in response, leaving the braid dying the second you let it go since his hair was too short to handle it. It doesn’t discourage you though, and before he can ask what you’ll do next, he can already feel your steady movement back to the same scheme and a soft chuckle left his lips.

“You want me to stop ?” you asked under your breath, probably still concentrated on what you were doing but still caught his sigh.

“No, it’s fine. Go on.” he assured before stepping back again into his study, more than relaxing by this short break.

Rin loves movie dates to his core, but it always gets him when you start touching his hair in the middle of the movie. It's like he's never getting used to it and he's jolting a bit every single time, making you chuckle. But you always kiss his head as an excuse after. 

There's something relaxing when your fingers start to twirl around his short hair, making him wonder who appreciates it the most between you and him. Because he for sure loves it. 

His mind drifts away easily despite himself and how badly he wants to follow the movie. He always finds some way to lean into you, craving for more like a cat and more often than not, he ends up laying on top of you. 

“Don't fall asleep this time Rin,” you joke while scratching his head playfully. He simply nodded, absorbed in the movie more than you gave him credit for. He just didn't want you to stop.

Sae hates it when he feels your hands finding his hair in the middle of the day. He spends quite some time styling his hair in the morning, even if it doesn’t look like it, and you being nearby automatically becomes a danger for that.

Not that he doesn’t like you touching his hair, he’s fond of it, he wishes he could die with you touching his hair, but not during the day. So as soon as he feels it, he immediately gets up and warns you. “Please don’t.”

But he knows it can't be helped and soon your lips meet his, kissing him sweetly – your successful way to distract him – so you can end up with your hands reaching the hair in his neck. Twirling your fingers around it, pulling ever so slightly to annoy him but he still lets you. Not without a sigh against your lips, but he knows damn well he can't hold you back when you're determined to do something. 

He wishes he could keep his hair pretty for the day at least once in a while but he can't blame you ; both of you like it very much. He can forget his image for yet another day if that means he can appreciate the relaxing feint of your fingernails on his scalp. Even if lately it's starting to be everyday, he won't mention it – or not seriously. 

Your smile is more precious than some good hair day. 

Sakura still isn't used to you touching his hair, he hasn't been used to gentle gestures in his life before coming here  –  especially regarding his looks. The second your hands find his hair, he flinches by reflex even if he knows that it’s only you around him. He doesn’t turn you down anymore though since you always let him know how you love his hair, for the color or the fluffiness ; it’s just the best thing in the word and it got to be your boyfriend’s hair. You must be blessed. 

You still try not to frighten him too much, and start by touching his shoulders then going up to his neck and finally the hair in the nape of it. Twirling it lightly with your fingers and you’re sure to catch him snapping his head to you with a blush. 

“What are you doing ?!” he asked as always, flustered but not telling you to stop anyway which made you smile sweetly. 

“I’m playing with your hair ? You want me to stop ?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to act cute and confused so he doesn’t have the heart to tell you no. And with a resigned look but his brows still frowned, he compiled without adding anything.It’s a win, once again. 

You then slowly but surely brush through all his hair, tossing it one side to another, mixing the two colors together then separating it again like a puzzle. That’s something you grew to love, separating his hair for him and that’s also your best excuse to touch it even when there’s people around. Even if he’s not fond of it.

He tends to lay a bit in your hand when you do so, or when you stop your hand in his hair, quietly liking the feeling now that you’ve given him some time. Not that he’ll say it to you, never, but he doesn’t need to for you to know. It’s just like you to notice how he relaxes around you and when you do it. There’s a small smile on your lips when he tries to catch your eyes but looks away instantly, blushing again, and it makes you wonder when he’ll stop blushing around you. 

“You’re cute, Haruka,” you said, brushing away his bang to kiss his forehead. And without a second of hesitation – when in fact yes, but you tried to ignore it –  he was arguing with you about how he is NOT cute, simply proving your point again and again.

Let me know if you like it !

[blimpintime]

cursed : azriel x reader

in which azriel has a crush on a witch, and thinks she cursed him.

warnings: none (unedited)

word count: 1.4k

“She’s quite the character huh?” Cassian says to Azriel, staring at you. He grunts in response wondering why you are currently in a handstand competition with a couple of kids in the middle of town. Kind of in awe how your little black dress didn't fall down to your face with you being upside down, but that's a perk of being a witch, he thinks. 

As if you heard them talking about you, your gaze finds theirs. You grin and then lose balance and gracefully fall out of the handstand. It being the last day of summer did make it a cool one but still having been outside with a summer camp of kids you were quite dewy with sweat. Your face was flushed and damp as you made your way towards the two men. 

“Hi Cassian!” You say with a grin, you turn and look at Azriel, your smile falling into a smaller one. “Spymaster.” You nod. Cassian lets a chuckle slip through at Az’s blank face. You were always like this with him. He never fully understood why. You kept him at a distance always but managed to be involved in every one else’s business. He often thought it was because you could not stand him. And then he thought you were terrified of him, because let’s face it, that was more believable.

You were making small talk with Cassian when Azriel started to get lost in his mind thinking of you and how it seemed you teased him on occasion. With your little quips here and there. Constantly smelling like those fresh baked chocolate-chip muffins that were his guilty pleasure to eat when he got back from long missions

He noticed eventually that Cassian had walked away from you two when a group of kids started playing tag with him. He turned to look at you where you decided to sit on the grass, he made a quick decision to sit next to you. Both of you were silent, but for once it was comfortable.

The path leading up to your small little house on the bank of the Sidra was always well lit at night. Glowing with purple and orange lanterns their reflection makes it seem brighter than it was that night. Your house was on the smaller side (still fairly large all considering.) But you loved to host seasonal parties due to them being in connection with your magic and since summer was ending and fall was starting, it was the perfect time to throw one of your celebrations. 

Currently the Inner Circle is in your living room drinking and eating food you have made for them. Your familiar, Silly the tabby cat, has made their home on Azriel’s lap. He doesn’t seem to mind though. Gently petting the cat's soft fur. You stare at them from the kitchen with a soft smile on your face. 

“You could just tell him you know.” Nesta says from behind you, scaring the absolute shit out of you. You place a hand over your chest and let out a deep breath. “Nesta, I’m going to put a bell on you.” She laughs lightly as you scrunch up your nose. 

“I am not joking though.” She says softly, and you look back at him now playing with Silly on the couch. “He can’t even stand to be in the same room as me for more than ten minutes. There is no way I could tell him how I feel.” She hums in response. 

“I think you’d be surprised.” And then she walks back out to sit with Cassian. You did deeply care about Azriel, borderline loved him. You felt connected to him in a way you couldn’t describe, just that your soul was at peace with him. Your magic proved that theory too. It sometimes appears to you in colorful hazes around people. 

Every color had a different meaning, the majority of the Inner Circle had a warm orange around them. Your magic had to be newer or just not have a written history because there is barely any research on what these colors mean.  However, you chalked it up to orange meaning some of the most important people in your life. Azriel though, he had a beautiful blue humming around him almost constantly for you, and you had no idea what that meant.

You must have been lost in thought for a while because the next person to scare you was Rhys with Nyx on his hip. He was building another plate for Feyre and Nyx to pick off of. 

“You okay?” He asked you softly. Nyx’s grubby hands reaching for the fresh food on the plate, you and Rhys both grin at that. You nod your head in response to his earlier question. 

“Maybe ask him to hang out with you?” He says, like it's that easy. You shake your head, “I don’t know about that.” 

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to try.” You watch him leave the kitchen and decide it's time to do the same. 

You follow Rhys back into your living space, where it's warm of laughter and love. You sit down on the only open seat, which happens to be on the couch next to Azriel. Silly runs over to your lap and demands petting. You look down at the orange cat with love and when you look back up you meet Azriel’s puzzled stare.

“What?” You ask him softly, nudging the cat off your lap gently. You turn to fully face him when he abruptly stands up. He grabs your arm and pulls you towards the outside. 

“We will be back.” He says gruffly towards everybody, dragging you along.

“Please for the love of Mother, take your time.” Cassian says with a cheeky grin, “We have bets placed.” to which earns him a vulgar gesture from both you and Azriel.

When you go outside he drags you closer to the river and further from the house. Probably to avoid prying ears and eyes, but with everyone’s magic you go ahead and place a sound proofing spell over the two of you.

“Is everything alright Azriel?” You ask him after a moment of silence. He turns back around to look at you with something close to… fear?  

“So, what is it?” You look at him deadpanned and tilt your head in confusion.

“What spell did you place on me? Why, when I go to sleep I think about how I hope you had a good day. When I wake up I wonder if you actually ate breakfast and not forgetting after you have your morning coffee. And tonight, I wonder where you go when this party is mainly in celebration for you and I am busy playing with your cat and not with you.” He gets out in one breath. I stare at him for a moment and when I open my mouth he interrupts me again,

“Why is it when you are near my hands shake less and my worries ease but when you are gone I crave your scent. What curse? What spell?” Azriel genuinely looks shaken for a moment, and for a second so do you. 

“I didn’t know you felt that way too, Azriel.” You say and approach him with a soft smile. When you guys finally make eye contact though something inside you both, snaps. Your eyes widen and so do his. Mate.

You let out a little giggle that eventually turns into a full laugh. “You thought I cursed you?” You say through giggles, “I thought you hated me Az.” 

“Ah, well that goes both ways.” He responded with a smile. You look at him in confusion. “I could never hate you.”

“You couldn’t stand to be near me.” He quips back.

“No. You couldn’t stand to be near me.” You say and jokingly sniff at him. He shakes his head and grins. “We are both stupid.” You nod your head in agreement. 

“A couple of stupid mates, huh.” You look up at him, now leaning shoulder to shoulder. 

“Yeah something like that.” And then he kisses you. 

Warm lips slotting over yours softly, you both start getting a little more heated with each other. Hands finding their way into your hair while yours go around his neck. His lips softly biting yours and then pulling away. You arch and reach up on your tiptoes in a feat of chasing his lips. He grins at you, puts his hands on your cheeks and kisses your nose. 

“Let’s go back inside.” He whispers and leans back, as if he’s afraid that this will all be a dream if one of you speaks too loudly.

“I am kicking everyone out the minute we get back inside.” You whisper back and kiss his collar bone. 

“That sounds great to me.” he says and with that you both walk back to your house holding hands. 

a/n: so this was completely self indulgent, I wanted a cozy azriel fic!

please tell me what you think!

I don't own any characters that sarah j. mass created.

[manicpixievixen]

Open arms

Jason todd x gn!reader one-shot

Warnings: None really, the reader is still referred to as smaller than Jason and wearing a 'small pajama set', but other than that, it can be read as any gender.

Summary: Another one of Redhoods visits to your place, and he was always welcome. You give Jason a little talk about what you are to each other.

Wc: 2.1k masterlist

Jason had been stopping by your apartment for so long you could barely pinpoint the day it'd started. Like clockwork at increasingly late hours of the night, he would climb in through a purposefully open window and make his way inside. Sometimes getting caught in the drapes and hoping you hadn't noticed him clumsily swatting them away like a cat with its claw stuck in the window screen.

The memory of how this routine started was almost blurry in your head. It was so normal now, expected even. You'd known Jason separately from redhood for a while. One night, he couldn’t be bothered to go home and change just to keep his alter ego in hiding. You'd freaked out at the supposed stranger in your house before he took off the mask. And then it just kept happening.

Tonight was no different. In fact, if he hadn't shown up, you would've been concerned considering his recent consistency.

He grumbled some obscenities at the curtains that had gotten caught around him once again with the help of a gust of wind from the open window. Then once he'd escaped he stared down at the welcome mat you'd placed under the window, an amused sigh escaping from under the deep red helmet that's so often hiding his face.

He guessed maybe you'd gotten tired of his boots dirtying the floor when he visited, but not tired of him.

He limped ever so slightly as he left his boots behind on the little mat you'd layed out, moving towards the couch and shedding his helmet and gloves once he got there. They were supposed to protect him, but his bloodied knuckles said otherwise. Later, it would make you question just how overboard he could get on anger alone. You'd supposed it wasn't quite a problem in your circumstance, Jason almost made too much of an effort to be gentle on your part. He settled into the couch, not feeling too ashamed to be the occasional freeloader.

You emerged from your bedroom, having heard him curse a couple of times on his way in. “You need somethin’?” You asked quietly, entering with a blanket still wrapped around you. Formal greetings were long gone between the two of you.

He looks up at you, eyes half lidded. “Food.” His tone is tired. He's happy to see your face, the first friendly one in a while. He wonders if eventually he might poison your sweet attitude towards him, just by being around you, like maybe you might realize he's horrible and broken and not so apologetic for his actions as red hood.

"Please?" You ask, wrapping your blanket tighter around you as you look at his pale blue eyes for a response. He smiles at your encouragement, muttering a quiet but gruff ‘please’

You left him to settle down, returning with a plate for him. Nothing special at this hour, a sandwich would do. "Thanks." He spoke, taking the plate from your hands and practically shoving half of the sandwich in his mouth, from what you could observe he hadn't eaten all day.

"No one's gonna take it from you Jay." he'd forgotten how long he'd been waiting to hear that nickname again.

Jason freezes, he mumbles something unintelligible with a full mouth, finally swallowing and clearing his throat before replying. "Yeah, well. You never know in this city."

You'd been settled beside him, picking up his red hood helmet and inspecting it. As he ate his food, you slipped it on yourself. At first, he was going to ask you to take it off, and he still might. But you looked oddly cute with it, accompanied by a small pajama set.

He visibly looked you up and down, placing the plate down on the coffee table. His usual frown had softened slightly along with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Cute.” He finally mumbles, quiet as his eyes wander before meeting your own again.

"Really?" You ask, sort of encouraging, as if to tell him,'say that again.' He rolled his eyes at that, but his softened frown turned into a smirk pretty quickly. He shifted on the couch, pulling you to sit on his lap. His larger frame easily engulfed your smaller one as he held you.

One of his hands slowly traced the curve of your hip, sneaking under the hem of your sleep shorts just a little bit. “Yeah, really.” his eyes showed he meant it.

You reached both hands up to pull the helmet off, messing up your hair a little when you did so. “Things fucking uncomfortable.” You discarded it on the opposite side of the couch, enjoying your spot in his lap.

His hand moved to your hair, attempting to untangle a few pieces, pushing them away from your face. It eventually turned into a gentle caress of your cheek. “you looked cute though.” He teased, holding your hips gently and helping you straddle his lap, legs on either side of his thighs.

"What are you doing Jason?" You hadn't asked it like you were oblivious to his intentions or innocent. Just a sort of reality check, you'd been teetering on the edge of friends with benefits for a while. You were okay with letting him come and wind down and feel safe. You wanted him to be okay, but it was going to be rough if you only ever saw him during these times. Especially if you started really seeing each other.

He slung an arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer and keeping you in place on his lap. "What does it look like I'm doing?" He said above a soft whisper, but he couldn't possibly put your current situation into words. There wasn't ever going to be a good answer for what you had or would have with him.

"Blurring the lines?" You'd offered, even though you were absentmindedly doing the same, picking up his hand and running your fingers over his bruised and bloody knuckles.

He watched as your smaller hand held his own, his rough and battered knuckles meeting your soft skin. The contrast sent something through him, something he needed to feel more often. “maybe.” He mumbled in response. He'd tried to pull his hand away slowly. The feeling was nice, but something deeply rooted in his chest made him cringe at the way you were so soft on him, like he didn't need that treatment.

You'd noticed, telling him not to, by bringing that same hand up to your lips and leaving a soft kiss on each knuckle, your eyes not leaving his.

Jason swallowed hard at the continued soft feeling. There was a hint of something vulnerable in the usually stoic expression he wore. His lips parted slightly, trying to let out words that were caught in his throat, leaving an almost whimper in their place. He allowed his eyes to close for a second, his other hand gently exploring your thigh.

"Jay," you said quietly, as you dropped his hand and picked up the other, repeating the same actions. "You can come in here every night and blur the lines until there isn't any," you whispered, "but you better make some time to be something other than a visitor.” Jason's eyes moved with your lips as you spoke, tensing up underneath your warm body, his hand twitching at your careful touch. He swallowed again, his gaze continued to follow your lips, then back to your eyes.

His voice was a bit hoarse as he spoke. “I will.” His hands continued to rub up and down your thighs. You pushed yourself off of him. He'd almost let out a whine at the sudden lack of contact.

“go shower.” You mumbled, pressing your lips to his cheek. He sighed, reluctantly getting up.

“Bossy.” He mumbled in response, heading towards the bathroom, already pulling his shirt up as you relished in the sight of his muscular back. It was adorned in a couple of faded scars. You liked to trace your fingers over them in the darkness of your room.

"This is my house." You justified, beginning to walk back to your bedroom. You knew he would find you there when he was finished. He rolled his eyes even though you couldn't see it.

"Then maybe you should show some hospitality." He teased, his voice slightly muffled by the sound of the running water.

The hot water was no match for your soft touch, but it still felt soothing to his sore muscles. His mind, however, was still somewhat occupied with your earlier words, going back to the feeling of your lips against his knuckles and your weight on his lap, and how your thighs felt resting against his own.

He left the washroom with a pair of sweats on and his hair sending water droplets down his toned chest. Jason paused outside the bedroom door, his hand hovering over the handle for a brief moment before he slowly opened it. He could see your figure laying on the bed, still awake, a lamp casting the most flattering warm light across your skin.

You lifted the blanket up, patting the spot beside you. Most times, he would sleep on the couch or leave before morning. Because of course, the odd relationship between you two was complicated. Sure, he'd spent a few nights on and off in your room, only in times where the city streets had been truly horrible to him. But you'd offered… He took a few slow steps forward, approaching the bed and joining you under the covers, accepting your invitation.

"Much better." You told him, running a hand through his damp hair, you'd always loved the bleached streak amongst the dark waves. He let out a barely audible grumble, shivering involuntarily at the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. Jason shifted, turning to properly face you. One of his hands returning to his favourite spot on your hip.

"You gonna come over some time that isn't some odd hour of the night?" You asked, continuing the talk from earlier. "Maybe not leave before morning?”

Jason's grip on your hip tightened at the question, his eyes darting away for a brief moment before he looked at you again. His bottom lip caught between his teeth as he thought, shifting forward and resting against the crook of your neck, his lips gently pressing against your skin. "Maybe." He mumbled against your neck, almost as if to hide his face while his other hand continued tracing your body.

"I'm serious, Jay." You said, all but ignoring his hand grasping underneath your shirt."If this is all it's gonna be, it's not gonna be anything for much longer.”

His body shivered at those words, and he pushed himself farther into the crook of your neck, his breath fanning over your skin. He understood what you meant, and yet, admitting he did would make things so much more complicated. He liked the way you were with him now. He didn't need to change that. "I know." His words a whisper against the skin of your neck, his hand continuing to roam under the loose cotton of your sleep top.

"Next time I see you, better not be twelve at night in that goddamned mask." You said, holding onto his wrist, stopping his hand under your shirt so he would look at you.

He stilled again, letting you stop him. The beauty of your dynamic was the way he could rip his arm away in one action if he wanted to, but he would let you hold him down like this. He took in a sharp breath before sighing, lifting his head from your shoulder. His eyes met yours for the tenth time tonight. His blue stare held a guilty expression. "I'll try." He mumbled.

"You will." You agreed, dropping his wrist.

His eyes stayed locked onto yours, his expression still a mix of guilt and something foreign. He swallowed hard. "Promise." He whispered, his voice still hoarse. You nodded in acknowledgment at him, less serious now that the two of you had that talk.

His shoulders slumped, letting the tension of the discussion go. Easing upon seeing your approving nod. He very gently pulled your figure closer to him, muscular arms making contact with the small of your back. He rested his head on top of your own, burying his nose in your hair, taking in a now very recognizable scent.

It was his choice now, to return as Jason again. No red hood in sight. Through the door this time and not the window. You hadn't seen his old self in a long while. He knew either way he'd be welcomed with open arms, it was just a matter of what you were to each other.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Ok, question, fem! forced marriage au - how would Rafe react/feel if she brought up ANYTHING about separating, weather that’s flat out divorce or doing it in secret - happy to the public but living in diff spaces/diff lives/maybe even having affairs(?)

Tied bonds || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: don't mind me going off slightly in the beginning when its talking about the legality side of it, i was literally studying trusts and estates law a couple days ago lol

Warnings: angst galore!

Word count: 2,801

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The heavy oak doors of the estate’s study shut behind you with a quiet but resolute thud, isolating you from the rest of the world. The room, with its high ceilings and ornate furnishings, exudes both the security and suffocation of wealth. The scent of polished mahogany and aged leather permeates the air, a sensory reminder of the legacy you're bound to uphold and the responsibilities weighing on your shoulders.

The dim light from the tall windows casts long shadows across the room, making it feel as though the walls themselves are closing in, urging you to act before time runs out. You sit across from your lawyer at the broad mahogany desk. He’s a man in his 50s, with silver-threaded hair and sharp, calculating eyes. His demeanour exudes quiet authority, the kind of calm that comes from handling the complex finances of wealthy families like yours for decades.

A briefcase sits open beside him, documents meticulously laid out in front of you. These aren’t just numbers and figures on a page—they represent your children’s future, your security, and the small corner of independence you’re desperately trying to carve out for yourself. “Now, given the scale of your family’s assets,” your lawyer begins, his voice smooth and professional, “it’s prudent to separate certain accounts. Some in your name, some under irrevocable trusts for the children. This will not only shield them from potential claims but also provide financial protection in the event of....unforeseen circumstances—marital or otherwise.”

You glance down at the papers, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. This was necessary, you remind yourself. You need some semblance of independence, some safeguard for your children. With Rafe’s unpredictable behaviour and the constant pressure from both families, you can’t afford to let everything slip from your control. Your lawyer pulls out another document, sliding it across the desk.

“We’re talking about setting up separate trusts for each of your children. These funds will be distributed to them upon reaching a certain age—18 or 21, depending on your preference. In the meantime, control of the trust can be vested in you alone, ensuring that no one else has access to or influence over these assets, including your husband.”

“And what about Rafe’s side of the family?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended. “Would they have any legal claim?” The lawyer shakes his head firmly. “No. Not if everything is properly structured. The trusts would be irrevocable, meaning no one—not even your husband—could alter them once established. His family would have no legal right to interfere, regardless of any financial entanglements between the two of you.”

You take a breath, the enormity of it all settling in. This is exactly what you wanted—an impenetrable safeguard. A plan that ensures your children’s future remains under your control, untouched by the unpredictable tides of Rafe’s influence or the demands of your family. “Thank you,” you respond softly, your fingers tracing the edge of the document, the weight of your decision pressing heavily on your chest. “I want everything arranged quietly,” you say softly, your voice carrying the weight of your decision.

“No one else needs to know about this… especially my husband.” The lawyer gives a small, understanding nod. “Discretion is key, as always.” You sign where indicated, feeling a mixture of relief and unease as you watch your name inked onto the page. This is the right thing to do, you remind yourself. For your children, for their future. Yet as you rise from the desk and collect your things, a sense of foreboding lingers.

The heavy oak doors creak open as you step out, and the estate feels impossibly vast around you. Despite the careful planning, you can’t shake the feeling that keeping this from Rafe will lead to complications far greater than you anticipate. With every step you take, the sinking feeling grows. You only hope Rafe doesn’t find out before you’re ready to tell him.

~

The moment you step through the front door of your home, the tension in the air is palpable. You pause, your coat still in hand, as your eyes land on Rafe. He’s leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, an almost relaxed posture, but the intensity in his gaze betrays any notion of calm. His sharp blue eyes follow your every move, calculating, probing.

"You have a nice little meeting today?" His voice is cold, deceptively casual. But you can hear the edge in it—the suspicion lurking beneath the surface. Your heart skips a beat, anxiety pooling in your chest. Of course, he knows. Rafe always knows. You hang your coat on the rack, avoiding his gaze, trying to maintain some semblance of calm. "I had a few things to take care of. Where are the children?"

You answer nonchalantly, hoping to steer the conversation away from any confrontation. "With Astoria, they wanted to play with their cousins," Rafe answers, his gaze sharp as he pushes off the doorframe, taking a slow, deliberate step toward you, his presence overwhelming as always. "Answer my question," His tone hardens, suspicion fully creeping into his voice now. "I know you met with your lawyer. What are you up to?"

Your pulse quickens as you hold Rafe’s gaze, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. He’s already jumping to conclusions, constructing a narrative that fits his fears. You knew this confrontation was inevitable, but the reality of it still unsettles you, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. "It’s nothing that concerns you," you respond, keeping your tone as even as possible, despite the way your nerves fray under his scrutiny. "Just some family matters."

Rafe scoffs, the sound harsh and filled with disbelief. His jaw clenches as he steps even closer, his towering figure casting a shadow over you, blocking any hope of retreat. His presence is overbearing, the heat of his anger palpable in the air between you. "Family matters?" His voice is dripping with accusation, dark and biting. "Don’t play games with me. I heard enough to know this wasn’t just about your parents or your siblings."

His words cut deeper as his tone drops, low and dangerous. "You’re setting up trust funds. Inheritance management. Without telling me. What the hell are you planning?" His words slam into you, twisting your stomach in knots. His paranoia, the sharpness of his accusations, stings in a way you hadn’t fully prepared for. Of course, you knew he’d react like this, but hearing it out loud—his anger, his distrust—it’s worse than you imagined. You steady your breath, trying to keep your composure.

"It’s for the children, Rafe," you say, your voice soft but firm, though the tightness in your chest makes it difficult to breathe. "I want to make sure they’re taken care of, no matter what happens. That’s all this is." But even as you say it, you can see the suspicion lingering in his eyes, the doubt still gnawing at him, twisting this simple act of protection into something more sinister in his mind.

Rafe glares at you, his eyes dark and intense as they search your face for the slightest hint of deception. His presence feels overwhelming as he steps even closer, the space between you disappearing in an instant. Without breaking eye contact, his hand moves down deliberately, resting on the swell of your belly where your third child grows. His touch, firm and possessive, sends a chill through you.

"You don’t trust me with that?" His voice is low, almost a growl, laced with an edge of disbelief and wounded pride. "You think I wouldn’t look out for my own kids?" His words sting, but it's the subtle accusation in his tone that cuts deeper, as if he can’t comprehend why you would feel the need to act independently. Your frustration bubbles to the surface despite your best efforts to remain calm, your emotions swirling between anger and exhaustion.

"That’s not what this is about," you snap, your voice sharp as the tension between you flares. You're trying to hold it together, but the weight of his misunderstanding—of him always assuming the worst—pushes you to the brink. "I’m doing this to protect them. To protect us. You can’t control everything, Rafe." For a split second, something flickers in his eyes—hurt, maybe—but it vanishes quickly, replaced by his usual defensiveness. He steps closer, his voice lowering, cold and accusatory.

"You’re doing all of this behind my back," he growls. "And I’m supposed to believe it’s just for the kids? You don’t set up secret meetings with lawyers for something as simple as trust funds. It looks more like you’re preparing for something else. Like maybe you’re planning to escape this all." His breath is hot against your ear now, the venom in his words unmistakable. "Is that it? Are you getting ready to leave me?"

His accusation hits you hard, knocking the air from your lungs. The vulnerability behind it cuts deeper than you expected. It’s not just anger simmering in his voice—there’s fear too, buried beneath the suspicion, fear of losing control, of you slipping away. His jaw tightens, but his hand remains firmly pressed against the swell of your stomach, as if anchoring himself to you, to the life you’re carrying.

“And have our children without their father?” you ask, your voice sharp. There’s a flicker of something more beneath the surface—hurt, uncertainty. His eyes search yours, almost pleading. You blink, stunned by the weight of your own question. “Rafe…” you begin, your voice barely a whisper, incredulity lacing your words as you try to make sense of what you’ve just implied. “I’m not leaving you.”

The tension in the room feels suffocating, as if the walls themselves are closing in. You take a breath, steadying yourself, as you step closer, your gaze softening despite the frustration swirling inside you. "This isn’t about that,” you say gently, trying to reach him through the haze of his suspicions. “But I need some control over my life, Rafe. Some protection.” Your voice wavers slightly, but you press on. “I’m not just here to be controlled or managed. I need to know that I’m not just a piece in this game.”

You can feel his breath against your skin, heavy with unspoken fears, and for a brief moment, the façade of his strength cracks. The fear of losing control, of losing you, is palpable, and it clings to the space between you like a storm cloud ready to burst. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, pacing in frustration. "Control. Protection," he mutters under his breath, his movements sharp and agitated. "You think I’m the threat here? You think I wouldn’t protect you? Protect our family?"

You shake your head, stepping back slightly, trying to maintain some distance from the intensity of his emotions. "I never said that," you say, your voice softer now, trying to calm him. "But this is something I need to do. For me. For them." For a long moment, the two of you stand there, locked in a silent standoff. His breathing is heavy, and the anger in his eyes slowly shifts into something else—something more conflicted. He turns away from you, pacing a few steps before running his hands through his hair again.

"This isn’t how marriages are supposed to work," Rafe mutters, more to himself than to you. The words cut deep, piercing through the fragile layer of calm you’ve been clinging to. It’s a painful reminder of what your marriage has become—what it’s always been. The expectations, the compromises, the strain. This life… it’s not what either of you envisioned. You feel the urge to retort, to let loose the frustrations that have built up over the years, but you bite your tongue. Now isn’t the time for that argument.

"I know," you whisper, though you’re not sure if he hears you. The admission feels hollow in the tense silence that follows, the weight of your reality pressing down on both of you. The room feels unbearably heavy, the air thick with unsaid words. Rafe exhales, his broad shoulders sagging ever so slightly, as though some of the fire inside him has been extinguished. He turns his back to you, the physical distance a reflection of the emotional chasm that has been growing between you both.

For a brief moment, you consider stepping closer, reaching out, bridging that gap—but the weight of your decision, of everything you’ve been trying to secure for yourself and the children, holds you back. It’s a boundary you can’t afford to cross right now. "You should’ve told me," he finally says, his voice quieter, but still taut with lingering tension. There’s hurt there, beneath the anger, beneath his instinct to control everything around him.

Your throat tightens at his words, the soft accusation lingering in the space between you. "I didn’t want this to turn into a fight," you admit, your own voice subdued, drained from the confrontation. The fatigue in your bones echoes in your tone. "I just needed to make sure everything was in place. For the kids, for their future." You pause, the weight of your decisions settling on your chest. "I wasn’t trying to hide it from you."

Rafe turns back to face you, his expression a mixture of frustration, hurt, and something more vulnerable—something he rarely lets show. "It feels like you were," he mutters, the edge of accusation still present, though softer now. His blue eyes search yours, looking for answers, reassurance, something to ease the fear behind his suspicion. You hold his gaze, trying to convey the truth behind your words. "I need to feel like I have some control, Rafe," you say gently, your voice steady but laced with an underlying sadness.

"Our lives… they’re not easy. And I know you want to protect us, but I need to protect them too. In my own way." Your heart beats heavily in your chest, each word an attempt to bridge the gap between you, a gap that seems to widen with every conflict. Rafe’s gaze lingers on you, the tension between you both crackling in the air. You take a tentative step forward, closing the physical distance between you, hoping it will ease the emotional one. Just as you stop inches from him, his expression softens slightly.

He reaches for your hand, his grip firm yet tender, and before you can say anything, he brings it up to his lips. The moment feels suspended in time as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin. It’s a gesture so gentle, so unlike the earlier confrontation, that it catches you off guard. The vulnerability in his eyes flickers, almost as if he’s silently asking for forgiveness or offering an unspoken truce.

You feel your heart ache, the gesture disarming you in a way his words couldn’t. It’s as though this kiss is his way of telling you that, despite his anger, despite his suspicions, there’s something deeper binding you together—a love neither of you can deny, even in moments like this. “I’m not the enemy, Y/n,” he repeats softly, his voice rough but sincere, the earlier accusation tempered by this quiet moment.

His lips linger on your skin for just a second longer before he lowers your hand, though he doesn’t let go. You swallow hard, your chest tight with emotion, your voice a whisper as you respond. "I know you're not." The air between you feels different now—quieter, softer, though still tinged with the weight of everything unresolved. For that fleeting moment, it feels as though the two of you are in sync again, even if just barely.

Rafe’s hand remains wrapped around yours, and though the tension between you hasn’t fully dissipated, it’s no longer suffocating. The kiss to your knuckles feels like a promise, fragile but meaningful. As he finally lets go and turns away, you watch him disappear down the hallway, the memory of his lips on your skin lingering long after he's gone. The weight of your choices still presses down on you, but somehow, in that brief exchange, it feels a little lighter.

You know this isn’t over. Rafe’s suspicions won’t vanish overnight, and your need for autonomy remains unresolved. But for now, the confrontation is over. The weight of your decisions, the strain on your already fragile relationship, presses down on you like a heavy cloak. You did the right thing, you remind yourself. This is about protecting your children, about securing a future for them. For now, all you can do is hope that, in time, he’ll come to understand why you did this. Why you needed to.

[laughingfcx]

3+1: THREE TIMES MEGUMI GIVES YOU SOMETHING, AND ONE TIME YOU RETURN THE FAVOUR.

megumi, water :: it's hot — thirty-five degrees, to be exact, and of course you've forgotten to bring water, and the only canteen nearby only takes cash, no change. in short: you're melting.

you're draped over a lunch table, cheek pressed against the cool (but rapidly warming) metal. oh, what you'd do for a drink right now—

suddenly, you can hear footsteps behind you, coming closer with each passing second.

hi, megumi. you can tell it's him without even looking.

hi yourself, he replies, slipping into the chair next to you. a small bottle of water is slid your way; he does not look at you, but the gesture speaks for itself.

thank you.

don't.

don't what?

don't thank me.

you've had this conversation a million times before.

just because we're best friends doesn't mean you have to—

i do it cause i want to, okay? he turns to you, annoyed. all you can think about is how pretty he is.

megumi, company :: frat parties are scary. you don't know why you're here; nobara and maki have already disappeared too. it's packed, sweaty, scary. you squeeze through the crowds to climb out of a window and escape the heat. you know you can't leave until you find your friends, though, so for now, sitting on the dewy grass in the backyard will have to suffice.

megumi was right, you think.

don't go, he'd said, sprawled out on your bed, arms around one of the plush animals on your bed. it's tucked under his chin, and he looks adorable.

why not? you'd asked him.

it's not worth it, he scoffed. couldn't pay me a billion yen to go.

you should've listened—

can i say i told you so?

megumi?

he ignores you; or are you gonna start crying? you definitely—

you launch yourself up from the ground into his arms, laughing. i thought you said you weren't gonna come!

i had a feeling this'd happen. the slightest hint of a smile graces his lips. couldn't leave my favourite alone now, could i?

what? say it again, i think i heard wrong.

his smile widens; he shakes his head.

megumi, power bank, his heart ? :: my phone's dying, you sigh.

no response.

my phone's dying, you repeat, louder.

say please. he's desperately fighting a losing battle, the corners of his lips twitching.

please, megumi, give me the power bank!

you snatch it greedily from his hands, connecting it to your phone.

no thanks?

thank you, megumi! you throw your arms around his neck suddenly, and he is glad that you cannot see the blush on his face.

megumi always carries power banks with him. it's a known fact by now; he always has one on him. meanwhile, your phone is always dying. what a coincidence!

or not.

because one day, you overhear him talking to yuji. you're not really listening, scrolling on your phone when you hear your own name.

it's only because of y/n that i need a backpack in the first place, megumi grumbles. otherwise, everything else fits on my pockets.

then don't? to yuji, the problem is easy to fix.

but they need it.

so?

megumi makes a grumbly noise in his throat; so cute, you think.

oh yeah, says yuji. i forgot you're horribly in love with them and everything you do is somehow connected to them.

oh.

they're here, by the way, he adds.

what? did they hear?

i don't know, yuji replies unhelpfully.

you barely manage to get your earphones in before they walk in.

you, flowers, chocolates, your heart ? :: today is the day. to say you're nervous is a huge understatement. your hands are shaking, palms sweaty, and you're shivering, even though it's not that cold. the flowers and chocolate wait patiently for you on your desk.

megumi, you say aloud to the empty room. megumi, i like you and—

fuck.

megumi, you begin again. i've liked you for a long time and—

who've you liked 'for a long time'? megumi looks mildly interested as he walks in. you always get kind of lonely around this time so i thought i'd come to hang out.

his voice is even, but you amidst the normal calm, you sense something controlled. like he's actually sad, or something.

no one!

yeah? he hums. i'm not buying it, but i won't push you.

fuck him! why does he always have to be this respectful? if he asked you, you wouldn't not have answered!

who gave you the flowers?

i bought them myself! you squeak.

he raises a brow at how high-pitched your voice is. for?

um.

you see the way he stiffens visibly, hand tightening around your doorknob. he swallows, and then, sorry for overstepping, y/n.

no!

what?

you're not overstepping, you tell him. you have every right to know. we're best friends, right?

... right, he responds, but there's something missing; he's clammed up, retracted into himself. his voice is forced into not showing any emotion, and he's backed away a little bit from you.

your heart breaks at the sight.

megumi, i like you!

you're shitting me, he replies.

no, really! also, i hope you don't mind, but a few weeks ago i heard yuji and you talking, and he said something, and—

stop talking, he murmurs. i want to kiss you.

megumi has never been greedy. be selfish, gojo's told him. he's never listened — he's had no reason to, after all. yet... right now, he understands. it's all he can think about — getting something he wants, getting it now.

when he makes his way back to you, all he can think of is how kissing you will feel. when he is kissing you, he realises that he wants this forever. so he lets himself be a little selfish, and tells you he loves you, and asks for the one thing he'd thought he'd never have — you.

new freaky writing style LOL only for this one though... also 3+1 because im lazy and sad and unmotivated. also grammatical errors highkey & im sorry.

[the-thing-withfeathers]

exceeded caution: part 1

she would have chosen the devil

series masterlist | next part

summary: when your relationship with the younger carpenter sister fails, what happens when thoughts of her older sister start to take over your mind? 4.1k words pairing: tara carpenter x f!reader into sam carpenter x f!reader warnings: toxic relationship, cursing, fighting, alcohol consumption, drug consumption, frankie mentioned, out of character tara.

a/n: this is actually such a bad first chapter because its mostly set up but i promise the next chapters are so much better. but ily carpenter sisters mwah mwah.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

couples fight, right?

that’s how they show they care, right?

that’s what you were always taught when talking about relationships.

you and tara had started off as friends with benefits. you met early in freshman year and the attraction was instant.

when you started to meet her friends, you quickly learned about their experience in woodsboro. you had known about the notorious killer but you never thought you would find yourself amongst the people associated with the incident.

as time went on, you decided to shoot your shot with her. your feelings became deeper than the desire to satisfy each other in bed.

you asked her out on a proper date after chasing her halfway across campus. you were sweaty and panting but when she delivered a kiss to her cheek with a "yes, i would love to", you knew it was worth it.

after a few dates, you learned that tara had a fear of getting close to people. she told you about amber and how she'd developed issues with commitment after that disastrous relationship.

so when you and tara started fighting at a higher frequency, you thought it was just because you didn’t want to lose each other.

you chalked it up to the perpetual state of stress she was in due to her sister being overprotective and not letting her go out as often as she used to.

then you started noticing the cracks in your theory when tara started fighting with you over the smallest thing. your jacket didn’t match her skirt, you chewed a little too loud, you handed her the wrong coffee order.

you did your best to calm the girl when she was in her angered state, your efforts proved to be futile when she would just kick you out of her room and you’d have to do the walk of shame out of her apartment.

only to make things worse, you usually bumped into sam on the way out. you knew your girlfriend’s older sister was overprotective of her and you were worried about what she thought of you.

sam often watched you leave from the kitchen, shooting you a look that you couldn’t decipher.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

"there's a party tonight for halloween, we should all go." mindy proposed to the group. it was a frat party, and you hated frat parties.

"we should!" your girlfriend, tara, exclaimed.

"is sam even going to let you out of the house?" chad asked, chuckling softly at tara's excitement.

"uhh... that's an issue for later." she said, looking away. you saw the gears turning in her head.

"you're not gonna tell her, are you?" you asked her, you knew her all too well. she turned to you with a small glare on her face.

"and what of it?" she said, snapping a bit. you seem to have taken her out of deep thought. you should have known that would be her response.

whenever a sore subject would come up, you tried not to bother her too much about it. you should have held your tongue, knowing you were talking about one of the sorest subjects— her sister. you frowned at her.

"i was just trying to tease, tara." you clarified. "it's okay, i won't judge you for it. i know sam's been overprotective recently."

tara seemed to back down from her anger when you said that. she just turned back to her phone as you turned back to your uneaten lunch.

you agreed to the party under the impression that it might be good for you and tara. it might be nice for her to get out of the house for once and spend time just being a young adult.

"i'll go as a cowboy." chad chimed into the conversation again. you had no idea what you were going to put together at the last minute.

"i'll throw together a pirate outfit." tara shrugged her shoulders, thinking back to her own closet.

"maybe i could be the parrot on your shoulder." you joked at her, she rolled her eyes at you with a small smile on her face.

"please don't." she laughed softly. you loved her laugh so much, and you loved being the reason for it. you’ve grown to cherish those little slivers of happiness between the two of you.

“okay.” you retreated your statement. “i’ll go as an angel.” you grinned. you had a dress waiting for you back home and some spare angel wings you used for a previous costume party.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

you were on your third drink of the night and had your arms around chad and ethan, singing the lyrics to sweet caroline. you three were swaying together on the dance floor.

mindy and anika looked over you three and rolled their eyes. it’s like they were meant to be.

you realised that your girlfriend was nowhere to be seen, that was concerning. she’d usually be joining you three in your antics.

you turned around to see her at the drinks table, talking to a taller man in a white shirt. you recognized him from somewhere but you weren’t entirely sure.

you opted to trust tara instead of the sinking gut feeling you had. she tended to get angry at you when you acted impulsively, you wanted to avoid that tonight.

you stepped away from the boys and made your way over to mindy and anika. you put your arm around mindy, you both had a great relationship— it was like you were her non-sibling twin flame.

"hey spoilsport. you suggested coming! why are you hiding all the way out here?" you asked her, leaning your head on her shoulder. you spotted a smile creep up her cheeks.

"because someone has to make sure all of you get home safe and sound." she poked your nose and you pulled your head back reflexively.

"that shouldn't stop you from having some fun with us too." you prodded more, trying to get her to loosen up.

however, mindy's point proved itself when you heard commotion come from the stairway. you turned your heads to see chad and tara along with the man in the white shirt by the staircase.

"holy fuck, is that frankie?" mindy asked.

it was like a jolt had electrified your entire body.

frankie.

you should have listened to that gut feeling. it got worse as you spotted tara by his side, his hand wrapped around her wrist.

you felt a fire rage in your belly and an overwhelming concern for tara. you made your way over only to already hear chad telling him off.

"what's going on?" you asked as you approached, standing shoulder to shoulder with chad.

“none of your business.” tara spat out at you, you looked at her with worried eyes. you never provoked her when she was like this but you realised the gut feeling not only applied to frankie but also tara.

“chad.” you called the boy’s name out, indicating that you wanted an explanation.

“frankie was trying to take tara upstairs for god knows what.” chad glared at the man a couple of steps above him.

your jaw clenched and fury filled your pupils.

“she wanted it, dude.” frankie shot back, “she asked me to.”

you looked over at tara only to see that she wasn’t looking at you, she was looking down at the accumulating crowd.

“tara, surely not.” you said, almost pleading. it was a contrast to your angry stare.

she didn’t respond.

she didn’t say a word.

“bro, shut up. she’s drunk and she isn’t thinking straight.” chad fought back at frankie. you snapped out of your thoughts and looked over at the two men.

“he’s right. she isn’t capable of making decisions. you have no right.” you said.

“whatever.” frankie rolled his eyes and pulled tara up the stairs, causing the shorter girl to tumble.

chad snapped and grabbed frankie by the shirt, throwing him down the stairs. you immediately went to check on tara.

“hey, love. let’s get you up. are you okay?” you asked her but you were simply met with silence and her trying to yank her arm away from your touch. she helped herself up but not without struggling.

you watched the altercation between chad and frankie go down, the two boys shoving each other back and forth.

you looked over at tara. you had almost forgotten the look on her face when you asked her if she was really wanting to go upstairs with frankie. she was inebriated, she wasn’t thinking clearly. she didn’t mean it— you could tell yourself that all you want but tara was never one to hide her emotions— especially if it was annoyance.

your thoughts were cut short when you saw sam carpenter walk straight in to the party.

fuck.

you couldn’t zone in enough to hear their conversation from the stairs, but your eyes did enough when they saw sam tase frankie’s balls.

you almost laughed at the sight of the man falling to the floor, but you knew you had to do something.

you stepped in suddenly, holding the older carpenter’s shoulders.

“let’s go. we don’t need any more trouble.” you thought you would be met with a scolding but sam simply nodded at you. she walked over to tara and helped her down the stairs, practically dragging her out of the party.

“sam, let me go!” your girlfriend protested. you followed behind the sisters along with chad, ethan, anika, and mindy.

tara managed to break herself free from sam’s grasp when you were all outside on the street. you stopped in your tracks and it landed you beside sam.

“tara, really?!” sam yelled at her sister, “sneaking out?! i had to find out from quinn that you were here. what if something happened to you?!”

“nothing was gonna happen, sam!” tara rubbed the inner corners of her eyes, trying to wrap her head around the situation.

“really?! cause i don’t think that guy was gonna let you go easy!” sam gestured back to the house. “and what were you thinking?! you have a girlfriend.”

“oh please, she won’t care.” tara scoffed. you were standing right there, but it was like she looked straight through you. how could she say that about you?

“right.” sam stopped her before she could say anything else. “i’m taking you home.” she said. she turned around to you, making eye contact. your breath hitched in your throat. “and you too. c’mon.”

you had to oblige, you weren’t going to fight against an angry sam.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

the car ride was more eerie than silent.

despite the looming quiet, you looked over at tara in the rearview. she was staring outside the window in the backseat while you sat in the front. sam had forced her into the back, saying she didn’t wanna get thrown up on.

you looked over at sam, her eyebrows furrowed as she drove you both back. you wondered what was happening in that head of hers. she had been through a lot too. her protective nature was a product of everything that had happened in woodsboro, you found your concern growing for her too.

you helped tara up to the apartment with sam. at one point, you gave up and decided to princess carry her. she protested at first but realised she had no other choice.

you put tara down on her bed, taking off the bandana that covered her hair. you went into her closet to grab some clothes for her, kneeling down about to help her.

she suddenly turned away from you.

“tara, please. let’s not fight.” you pleaded with her, wanting to get her comfortable more than anything.

“fighting is the only reason i stay with you.” she mumbled.

“what?” you looked up at her from your kneeling position, trying to help her take her shoes off.

“you’re so nice all the time.” she glares at you. “you’re too different from her.”

oh, her. you knew.

“but i like controlling you. it’s almost too easy.” she had a venom-laced tongue tonight, the alcohol allowing the toxin to seep through your skin. “but i feel absolutely nothing for you.”

you finally knew the reason for your fighting.

“i almost even hate you sometimes though.” she admitted. “i only said yes to going out with you cause we were in public. if it was anywhere else, i would have rejected you.”

you were silent, you were stunned.

“i’m too young to settle down too, y’know?” she followed up, it was never-ending. “nothing was gonna happen with frankie. i knew better— he’s disgusting. but you had to end the fun when i was finally allowing myself to realise i had other options.” she scoffed.

her words didn’t make sense to you. she wouldn’t do that, she couldn’t do that. surely she had some heart in her.

you felt disgusted with yourself. you stepped back and had to hold back from saying anything. it was late, they had another roommate who was asleep and sam was waiting for you in the living room to take you home.

when you stepped back, tara rolled into bed, pulling the covers to her chin. you stared at her, tears forming in your eyes from what she said.

you were being used.

and she played you like a fiddle.

you were dressed as an angel, which was ironic.

because tara would rather have the devil.

you had tried to be the best possible person for her. you took everything she’s been to into consideration, always looking after her. but you realised she didn’t want that, she wanted someone else.

you covered your mouth to stiffle sobs that threatened to escape your lips.

you walked out of her room only to nearly come crashing into sam, who was leaning on the wall by the doorway the whole time.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

sam had previously been in the kitchen, preparing a glass of water for tara. she realised you were taking a bit longer than she expected, she figured you fell asleep next to tara.

she knew the nature of your relationship with tara. she had to listen to tara’s entire thought process of saying yes to you asking her out. she even discouraged tara, letting her know that it wasn’t fair to you.

but tara always had a mind of her own.

when she heard soft voices, she decided to come and check on the two of you. she stopped walking and listened in when she heard what you were talking about.

oh, she felt sick.

she felt sick hearing her younger sister say those words to you. she always cherished tara. she missed her sister that wasn’t capable of hurting a fly but quickly let those thoughts go when she acknowledged that the girl that she cared for was gone.

she leaned against the wall and heard your footsteps quickly approach. she didn’t expect you to almost crash into her, her hands flew to your waist, stabilising you.

she hadn’t gotten a good look at you earlier, you were dressed as an angel. a part of her almost smiled at how pretty you looked. sam always thought you were pretty, her eyes weren’t painted on.

“hey…” she said, watching you wipe your tears away. “here, take this.” the water meant for tara quickly changed ownership.

you declined the water, shaking your head and waving it away.

“please. you’ve been crying.” you hated that sam carpenter caught you in this state. you hoped to compose yourself before seeing her again.

“sam, it’s fine. let’s just go, please.” you brushed past her, she quickly turned and followed you out. she grabbed her jacket and her keys before following you downstairs.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

“you didn’t deserve that.” sam broke the silence. you slowly turned to her and just stared, you were still trying to find the words.

“sam…” you started.

“no. it doesn’t matter.” she interjected. “i’m sorry about tara.”

“it’s fine. i can handle it. she's right anyway."

“it’s not. and she isn't."

you felt yourself crawl back into your shell. the order in sam’s voice, like she was a general, made you feel like you couldn’t say a word.

“you deserve better than her." she suddenly turned to look at you, her glare wasn't like tara's though. hers was more angry at you for saying those things about yourself.

"she's just stressed." you try to justify tara's actions. you still harboured feelings for the girl. it was going to be hard to see it any other way.

"don't try and do that." sam shook her head, pulling up outside your apartment. "you're a grown ass woman, you know better than to try and justify someone hurting you."

you'd never seen that side to sam before. she was always tara's timid older sister, a strong but silent type. you didn't expect to hear her suddenly standing up for you.

"i just need a night, sam." you didn't want to talk about it anymore, it was all too much for you.

"get some rest." she nodded at you while you pulled at the door handle, unlocking it and hopping out. you leaned down and poked your head back into the car.

"thank you for the ride home. i appreciate it. i'll see you soon."

sam nodded at you. "goodnight."

"goodnight, sam."

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

tara thought her eyes were burning in the sunlight. she felt herself wither away as she was hit with a pounding headache.

her throat was dry but as she blinked away the exhaustion, she realised there was a glass of water by her bedside. she practically leapt for it, chugging it all in one go.

she was still in her clothes from last night. she got up to change into something more comfortable and take her make-up off. it was the weekend so she had nowhere to be, deciding to dedicate the free day to recovering from her wicked hangover.

she walked out of her room to see sam making breakfast. she could literally eat anything right now.

sam looked just as exhausted as her.

memories started flooding in from last night, the fight that ensued coming back to her

"jesus sam, no way you actually used a taser on someone last night." tara grumbled as she took her seat on the dining table.

"i absolutely did. and i'm not regretting it." sam retaliated, setting a plate down in front of tara. "eat up. you're gonna need the energy for today."

"why? what's today?" tara asked, already wolfing down the food in front of her.

"do you really not remember anything from last night?" sam asked her, sitting down beside her with her own plate of food.

tara shook her head which led to sam explaining what you two talked about that night.

tara was horrified. she felt so guilty. sure, she knew she didn't lie completely, but she knew you didn't need to hear that.

and it was too late to take it back now.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

five knocks woke you from your own slumber.

you groaned and pushed yourself off the mattress, glitter still coating your eyes from your costume last night. you immediately rolled into bed after changing last night.

you threw the door open, a frustrated look on your face.

tara.

oh, and sam around the corner.

sam shot you a sheepish wave, you waved back at her. you knew the only reason that tara was here was because sam brought her. while you appreciated the gesture, you knew there was only one way this was ending.

"you shouldn't have kept this going for as long as it did!"

you yelled at tara. you two had been going at it for ten minutes now, you were sure the entire apartment complex could hear the two of you. and you knew they could hear your heart breaking.

"what the fuck was i supposed to do?!" tara exclaimed back. "walk up to you and oh hey, i don't actually have any feelings for you?!"

"yes! exactly that." you shot back, scoffing and crossing your arms across your chest. "you should have been honest with me, tara."

"i couldn't. you... you were good for me." tara whispered, her anger subsiding. "you were kind and just what i needed after everything that happened. i thought that maybe i could grow to have feelings for you."

"you shouldn't have taken that chance. you basically lied to me for months." your posture straightened, your jaw tightening. "it wasn't fair."

"i know... i know..." tara said, trying to calm you a bit more. "i'm sorry."

"you know that sorry isn't gonna cut it, right tara?" you huffed, shaking your head at her. "we're done."

she stared at you for a beat, she didn't believe that you ended it. you were so quiet all the time, always kind and happy. you never took the initiative, she thought she would have to do it. to say you surprised her was an understatement.

"i understand." she nodded. "i'll go."

"yeah... you'd better." you weren't going to stop her, she was the last person you wanted to see.

you opened the door for her and saw sam avoiding your eyes around the corner.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

three weeks later, you hadn't seen much of your friends. you decided to be the one to keep your distance, you hadn't even seen mindy all that much.

it wasn't until you heard your phone buzz on a random friday morning that you realised that you were missing your dear friends.

"come over tonight, we're watching a movie." a text from mindy.

"we're?" you responded. you knew that mindy would pick up on what you were putting down.

"yes. tara will be there. but we haven't seen you in ages. i'll put you on seperate ends of the room." she typed quickly.

"okay. what time?" you missed your friends more than anything, it was worth seeing tara if it meant you got to see everyone else too.

"4 plus 3." mindy replied, you chucked your phone to the side and sighed. you had to spend the rest of the day psyching yourself up to face everyone again.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

you arrived at the twin's place at exactly seven sharp.

you walked in and saw that everyone else was already there, surrounding the television.

"bystanders reported seeing the killer with a black cloak and sporting the infamous ghostface mask."

oh no. oh no no no.

you knew all the stories, you'd seen what the killer had done to the carpenters and the twins. and you couldn't believe that he was back.

silence coated the walls of the room, everyone was too shocked to say anything.

tara ran out of the room into another area of the apartment, mindy and chad following behind her. sam walked out the door. you wanted to go after tara, but you thought you might make things worse in that sector. she already had the twins following her, and sam had nobody.

you trailed behind sam. she ran down the stairs, sitting down on the end step, her head falling into her hands. you slowly approached, sitting down on the end step beside her.

"i'm so sorry." you whispered, looking straight ahead.

"its never gonna fucking end." sam sobbed out, her fingers tangling into her hair.

you sat in silence, your palms flat on your lap. you didn't know if you should do anything or say anything.

"there's nothing i can say or do to make this better... but i hope you know, there's more of us now. no way in hell are we leaving you alone in all of this." you said, determined. "you aren't going to go through this alone, sam."

sam peeked her head out. your words were something she had heard before, but coming from you, she felt different about them. she knew you didn't know how to reassure her, you hadn't been through the same thing. you two only knew each other in passing, but she appreciated it.

she turned to you, and you turned to her.

this was the closest you two had been ever.

had she always been this beautiful?

had you?

you shook your head to shake away your thoughts, now was not the time. you could tell she was also trying to push her own thoughts away.

"thank you, i appreciate that." she whispered, a small but genuine smile flashed at you.

"do you want to sit here for a bit longer?" you asked her.

sam begun to think that tara was right. you were incredibly kind and considerate, you could read people like they were an open book. she nodded at you and you nodded back at her.

you two proceeded to sit in a comfortable silence.

you could hear thumping above you, knowing that the twin's apartment was active with stress and fear.

but you couldn't move. you had to be there for sam.

and you meant what you said.

no matter what, you weren't leaving.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

author's journal i actually am also unsure about this set up for the series. i hope my writing gets better as it goes on but the set up was a bit rough to write and even read. but i promise better content soon y’all 😫 i also would have written a longer drunken argument scene between tara & reader but i needed some sam emphasis, this might get edited in the future

on another note, okay yeah i have so much love for the carpenter sisters actually. this idea came to be out of nowhere when i was watching scream vi to fall asleep and i immediately told emma about it so everyone say ty emma ilysm liefje. she's had to deal with all my bullshit recently so this entire series is dedicated to her <3

another thing is heaps and heaps of credits to @shdysders one of my current favorite writers because the drunken argument scene is hella similar to theirs from one of their fics, if only (which you all should read btw.) thank you babes.

andddd let me know if you wanna get added to the taglist for this fic also and i’ll be more than happy to oblige <3

[http-shield]

whatever you say, old man- bucky barnes

~ bucky barnes x fem!reader ~tags/cw: post endgame but no one is dead and life is good, think 2012 Avengers fandom where clint is in the vents yeah that is where I'm at, established friendships, pining, yearning, bucky is not used to new age dating rituals, explicit language, sexual tension ~ wc: 2.6k ~ not proofread

You: Hey, are we still on for tonight? Rita’s at 7?

Him: ye

“So you’re telling me this is normal?” Bucky’s tone is judgemental as he quickly reads over the words on your screen.

You nod, wordlessly confirming that situatuonships are a staple part of the modern dating scene.

Bucky’s brows furrow, eyes flicking from the lack of effort text message to your face as you lean over the bed, phone gripped between expertly manicured fingers. He blinks once, twice, as if taking the time to formulate a response that will rebuke your earlier confirmation without hurting your feelings. This is new for him. A habit he has only recently picked up upon developing his friendship with you. He usually isn't as careful with his words, not caring enough about the recipient's opinion or emotional well-being to warrant enough time and consideration when responding, but with you. It was another ball game entirely. Bucky doesn't want to hurt your feelings, to see you frown because of something he has said; in fact, he wants the opposite. To see you smile and laugh and blush because of him. For you to want to talk to him about anything and everything, share thoughts about your day and how things make you feel. Bucky wants to know everything that happens in that pretty little brain of yours, even if he doesn't necessarily agree with it. Normally he would take the time to sugarcoat his words, sweeten his tone and make it easy for you to swallow but this is a situation where he couldn't, doesn't, want to mince his words.

“There is no world where that is normal.” He stares at you, expression bored and a little annoyed. At you? Never. At the man on the other side of the phone? Incredibly so.

You groan at his very true statement and pull away, slipping the phone into the pocket of your cargos as you turn towards your open closet.

He’s right. You know he is.

There is nothing remotely normal about two grown adults being in a relationship that is defined by the amount of time the other left the first one on read, or how much emotional vulnerability there could be put on the table before the other got too scared and ran. There is nothing normal about being in your late twenties and having a grown man introduce you to his friends as a 'buddy’ despite having an entire draw dedicated to you in his apartment but you can’t admit that, refuse to admit that you know its wrong and desperate and frankly, demeaning. If you can't own up to your own patheticness, how are you supposed to admit it to the man you are secretly interested in. There would be nothing more humiliating than confessing that the only reason you are with and putting up with bullshit efforts from this other guy is to hopefully distract yourself from the desperate need you feel for Bucky. This new guy is mediocre at worst yet attainable at best and that is something you will live with until your crush on the super soldier is dead and gone and you can finally focus on something other than him.

——

You had spoken with Natasha about Bucky last night, her voice a soothing purr over the phone as she encouraged you to disclose your concerns about pushing the boundaries on your friendship with the super soldier.

“The worst thing that can happen is he says no and then you both move on.” She croons, voice laced with comfort and reassurance.

“Wrong.” You shake your head despite being on a voice call.  “The worst thing that can happen is he says no, I lose him as a friend and then I’m stuck pining after someone who wants nothing to do with me” You place another dish in the washer before continuing with your point. “Or I push him before he is ready, again losing him as a friend, and now I’m left with the guilt of possibly taking advantage of a war veteran.”

“You take advantage of Steve all the time, how is this any different?” 

“I take advantage of Steve to get someone to carry in the groceries. I’m not trying to date Steve.”

Natasha huffs a laugh. “What if he is interested in you as well?”

Your hands stop scrubbing at the pan in the sink.

“I can find out.”

Heat fills your body, your stomach twists at the idea of having that information. It would put an end to the constant yearning you feel, but the thought of finding out he doesn’t like you that way, that he sees you as no more than a friend will destroy you, humiliate you beyond all logical reason and you would be forced to cut off the friendship out of pure self-preservation.

You shake your head again. “I’m good.” And return to scrubbing your pan. “I'll just wait out the crush and then move on.”

——

“This isn’t the 1940’s anymore.”  You sigh and completely shift your attention from Bucky to the mess that is staring back at you.

Endless outfit options are strewn about the small closet but so far none of them have come together, just single shirts, skirts, and pants all muddled in a heap of black.

“I know it's not the 40s but I doubt relationships and dating have changed that much." Bucky grumbles from behind you, the bed creaking as he shifts.

Another sigh, this one long and exaggerated as you will the frustration to leave your body. You want to turn to him and explain that you know all this, and are very aware of the fact that nothing about your current predicament is what you want. You want to be wooed with flowers and preplanned dates and soft kisses on hands and longing looks but that’s not the reality of life anymore and having to be reminded of it is getting annoying and your heart is starting to ache at the lack of effort given to you by your current choice of dating partner.

“You know if I was taking..” Bucky starts but you quickly cut him off with a whine of his name.

“James, please.” You don’t turn to face your friend, afraid to even glance at him because you know you will crumble. “I need help picking out an outfit so help me or go back to your room.”

--------

“You know if I was taking…” You don’t let Bucky finish but, God did he want to. His name on your tongue was enough to shut him up, to send a flush rushing to his face in a way that no man his age should blush, but he can’t help it. There is something about the way his name falls from your lips that has his mind racing to thoughts that should not be there, should not appear when the picture of you enters his mind.

“You know if I was taking you on a date, you’d get flowers and chocolates and champagne and those little baby dolls you like” is what he wanted to say before you shut him up with an annoyed grumble.

His intention wasn’t to display how things were different back in his day but to indicate exactly what you’d be getting were you about to go on a date with him, to explain the reason why you should go on a date with him and not some loser who couldn’t even formulate a fully fleshed out text message. How if you were to drop that kid, and say yes to Bucky he would gather the moon on string for you, pick every flower in every field, find every single little Sonny Angel there is and give them to you each and every day for the rest of your life, you would never be sat wondering why he isn’t calling or responding, if you were even going out the next day, if he even liked you. Bucky would make his feelings for you so abundantly clear that even a blind man would be able to see the signs, but you are his best friend and best friends don’t feel that way about each other. It’s all platonic hugs and hair tussles, cheeky jabs at each other over coffee, shared trauma and secrets over whatever dinner you bring to his apartment and he yours. There will be no dates, or long hugs that turn into kisses that turn into you beneath him, whimpering his name as he makes you feel oh so good.

Fuck.

Bucky’s entire body is on fire, and he needs to stop thinking about the way you would feel wrapped around him, his mouth on yours, the taste of you sweet on his tongue.

“Okay, what about this?” you announce as you walk into the bedroom from the ensuite. “Too much?”

You stand in the doorway, dressed in plain jeans and a black shirt.

“Too much?” Bucky is confused. “This is the outfit you wore to breakfast this morning.”

He is right about that one. You had worn a very similar outfit this morning, but tonight isn’t a full-on date, a semi-date, where things shouldn’t be that fancy so why shouldn’t you recycle your outfits. Bucky stands from the bed, readying himself to dig through the mountain of clothes that had formed at the entrance to the bathroom. He crosses the small space and squats before the clothing, fingers expertly rifling through the material, quickly brushing over the lace of bras and panties, before finding purchase on a black dress he thinks he has seen you in before. It might have been the dress you wore to a funeral or press conference, either way, it was not alluring in the slightest, not that you weren’t stunning in everything you wore, hell you could come out wearing a garbage bag and Bucky would be in awe of your beauty. It was just that he didn’t want your date to ogle you, to think of you the same way Bucky does so he is being a little selfish and conniving in his choice of garment.

“Where is he taking you?” His question is disguised as interest in the dress code but his real curiosity is far from an outfit.

There are two reasons why he needs to know where you will be tonight. The first is to judge whether this manchild is even worthy of a date with you, second if he knew the exact location and time, maybe he could show up and show out your date, make you realise what you deserve and how Bucky could be the one who gives it to you.

 “We’re meeting at Rita’s down the road and then might see a movie, maybe something else. I’m not sure yet.”

“He hasn’t planned anything?” Bucky whips his head around to you, finding you standing there looking incredibly embarrassed at the lack of effort. What the fuck happened in the years he was gone?

The defeated shake of your head is enough to have Bucky’s chest aching. He sits back on his haunches; the dress discarded back in the pile and gives the outfit another look as he decides on where to go from here. “Yeah, I think it’s too much.” He nods and stands up, brushing his hands as if he had just completed an excavation on some ancient site.

“Go change back into your sweats ‘cause there is no way I’m letting you go on a date with a guy who can’t even plan something.” He nods his chin towards the bathroom, more of an order than a suggestion.

He watches you tilt your head back as you groan in frustration. “I’m not going through this again, old man. This is how it works now.”

Now it’s Bucky’s turn to get frustrated. He takes a step towards you, hulking 6’0 frame rising to tower above you with a somewhat menacing glare, but you know he will never hurt you no matter how much you push his buttons.

“I’m not talking about what it used to be like, little girl.” The jab at your age/generational difference comes out before he can register it, but he notices how your cheeks flush. “This is about getting what you deserve.”

He pushes in on the space between your bodies, now chest to chest as you square your shoulders, not ready to back down from an argument despite knowing you will not win.

“And what’s that?” you stare up at him, brows raised in anticipation of his answer. You aren’t sure where this is going. If you are going to receive another lecture or maybe even a verbal beatdown as to why your standards for men are so low, a common topic of conversation between you and Natasha, but instead you are met with a soft smile as his Vibranium hand is raised and brushes against your cheek.

“You deserve flowers and preplanned dates and wine and jewellery and everything you could ever want.” Bucky’s voice drops into a whisper, cold fingers trailing soothing lines against your heating skin. “You deserve a man worshipping you, to be on his hands and knees begging to take you on a date. Not some punk who can barely put together a sentence.”

You hold his gaze, blue eyes staring intently as you shudder in a breath. “Who’s going to do that, huh?” your voice is small, no longer filled with the same bravado you had not a minute ago. “You know anyone who wants to do that for me, you send them my way Bucko.”

His metal hand slips to your cheek to your jaw, fingers pressing into your pulse points so he can feel the speed at which your heart is racing.

“I’d do it.” He states matter-of-factly, eyes dipping to your lips. “I’d do anything for you.”

Breathing becomes a little bit too difficult as his human hand traces up your bare arm.

“Anything?”

Bucky nods and dips his head until his face is mere centimetres from yours. “You didn’t let me finish before, but I'd give you anything you’ve ever wanted.” Fingers move to cup your chin and tilt your head up. “You want flowers, I’m a florist. Moon? Stars? I’m getting Stark to build me a rocket. Anything you want, you’re getting it.”

“And if I want you on your hands and knees barking like a dog for me?” You smirk, the mental image of Bucky on his knees panting like a puppy has your stomach twisting.

“Put a collar on me and call me Spot 'cause I’m yours, doll.”

The confession has your eyes widening.

“I’m all yours, from now until whenever you’re done with me.” Bucky whispers, breathless.

“And what if I want you to kiss me?” you ask, knowing he is waiting for your permission to do just that.

Bucky crumbles, his expression falling from that of teasing into one of pleading.

“I want you to kiss me, James.” You whisper.

His resolve breaks and he presses his lips to yours. Softly and timidly, closed mouth and restrained but as your hands reach out to grip his waist, a delicate gasp slipping past your lips, does he deepen the kiss. His mouth opens over yours, lips slotting against your plush ones, tongue darting out to test to waters only to be met with your slackening jaw. Bucky’s grip on you tightens as he continues to kiss you, afraid to let you go in case this was one of the many, many dreams he had where he woke up alone and confused, but as you bite down on his bottom lip, he is brought back to reality. Your hands on his waist, pull him tighter against you, the softness of your body had Bucky’s mind wandering to places it should not be. You pull back, pupils blown wide and lips parted as you pant. Bucky is just as breathless, hands cupping your face with a gentleness he doesn’t think you’ve ever known from the way you stare up at him.

“You’re not going on that date.”

“Whatever you say, old man.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

a/n: eee this is my first avengers fanfic since like 2018 pls be nice I just need something happy to think about clint living in the airvents, thor eating poptarts era was my happy place

[jeonscatalyst]

LET’S TALK ABOUT “ARE YOU SURE?!”

I started doing a very long review of the entire season of AYS but I changed my mind along the way because I have seen so many other people give reviews of the show which I generally agree with so me doing another one just to repeat the same thoughts felt a little unnecessary so I decided to look into some aspects of Jikook’s special bond which AYS practically reaffirmed or which some us might be finding out for the first time. This post is going to be incredibly long so brace yourselves.

These are mostly my observations and some of these observations are not new to me at all. These observations would be supported by mentions of moments from the show or twitter links to see some described moments.

*Jimin listens to Jungkook

I love how Jimin and Jungkook listen and pay attention to each other but it was especially beautiful to see this aspect of their dynamic play out in AYS. I noticed that no matter how unimportant what Jungkook was saying seemed, Jimin always listened to him, validated him and participated in the conversation . The two moments I recall the most (there are more) were from the Jeju episodes. In episode 5 while at the meat restaurant, I loved how Jimin just sat there listening as Jungkook explained to him how to tenderize meat. You could tell that for some reason that topic was important to Jungkook or he loved talking about it and Jimin knew this so he encouraged the conversation by asking follow up questions and Jungkook happily explained things to him. Now I don’t particularly think Jimin was very interested to know how to tenderize meat or all of that but it was beautiful how he created a space where Jungkook felt comfortable enough to just talk about the most simple things knowing that someone was actually listening and paying attention to him.

Then we also have the moment when they all got back from the last restaurant they visited in Jeju. We see Jungkook happily telling Jimin that he saw two bikers on their way home and this was so sweet on its own because things like this show you how innocent and child like Jungkook is because things like that still amuse or excite him but what was even more touching to me was Jimin’s response. Jimin didn’t just stay quiet or just say “ok”or “really” and leave it at that but he actually engaged in the coversation too and told Jungkook that he saw him waving at them. This was really precious to me because it’s beautiful how Jk knows that he can talk to Jimin about any and everything and he would always get a response that doesn’t make him feel like what he is saying isn’t important.

These are things that people easily ignore or undermine but seeing moments like this explains why Jungkook said he found the greatest comfort in Jimin and why Jimin is who he went to when he needed company.

*Jungkook is more verbally expressive around Jimin.

I don’t know if many people have noticed this but when watching BTS content, it is easy to notice that Jungkook is usually quieter among all the members. He doesn’t talk much and rarely ever initiates topics for discussion but just goes along with them. We usually see more of the physically expressive side of Jk when he is around other people but AYS showed me a side of Jk I must I admit I didn’t know too well.

With Jimin, Jungkook is more vocally expressive. We saw him literally take lead of conversations, vocally express how much he loved the show and how much fun he was having, we saw him initiate conversations quite a bit and I must say this felt new ans different from the Jk we know in other content who usually can’t even speak over his hyungs. We usually saw him try to say something and eventually give up, he didn’t vocally express his thoughts much unless he was specifically asked but with Jimin, he is so different. Maybe the more accurate way to put this is that Jungkook is the biggest yapper around Jimin even though he goes quieter with others.

I also love the fact that we don’t only see him vocally express his happiness. I love that we see him express his frustrations at Jimin too. When he is mad at Jimin he doesn’t hide it, when he is not impressed he doesn’t hide it, when he is sad or hurt by something Jimin says or does he doesn’t hide it. This shows a very deep level of understanding and trust because Jungkook knows he doesn’t have to pretend around Jimin. He is sure and secure in whatever bond they have that he is ok with showing Jimin every side of his. His happiness, excitement, pain, sadness, frustrations, anger. This is what an ideal relationship is like to me. This is what a real deep connection feels like to me and seeing Jikook like this melted my heart. I was so happy to able to see this side of Jungkook because it’s not a side we had seen alot.

I love how Jungkook feel comfortable talking about the most mundane things in settings where he feels the most comfortable or with people he feels the most comfortable with. After watching AYS, I got to finally understand why Jungkook loved doing very long lives so much. I think we can all agree that there is a certain level of comfort Jungkook feels when he is Live. He talks about any and everything to us seated on the other sides of our screens watching him. He tells us about the size of Bams poop, tells us about meals he loves to cook, tells us about the most unserious stories about wanting to meet and befriend ghosts, he feels comfortable falling asleep with us watching. When I think about it, I feel like he does that alot because he knows he can just talk and we would just listen without judging or openly judging the things he likes to talk about. Maybe with some friends or actual people in his life, he can’t just sit with them and talk about whatever he wants to talk about because some people might not find the “weird” things he likes to talk about fun or interesting, i mean how many people want to just sit there and hear about meat tenderizing? How many people want to sit and hear or talk about the size of a dog’s poop? How many people would just be quiet and listen to you talk about sand fleas? I think when Jungkook is around people he or settings that he knows he can just be completely himself and talk about whatever he want, he just goes off completely. That is how I see him and Jimin.

*Jikook truly enjoy spending time together

I’m sure many of us already know this but AYS once again showed that Jimin and Jungkook actually love spending time together. I’m not talking about time where they can just meet, do one of two fun activities and then go their separate ways, I am talking about them truly enjoying each other’s company no matter what they are doing. We saw them sticking together, choosing to do almost everything together and going to bed together even when there was another member in the mix. After their showers on those nights in Jeju, they could have just gone and done their different things like we saw tae do but they enjoyed sticking together and doing things together. It makes sense why over the years, we have heard from members and staff that Jikook were together alot. Makes sense why they called themselves all nighter buddies and we saw that dynamic at play in Jeju.

*Jikook have an insane amount of Inside Jokes

This is one nobody can argue. Jimin and Jungkook have an insane amount of inside Jokes and they watch alot of the same things. So many times people around them don’t understand the things they say. Hell even us watching had to wait for people to dig and explain to us what some of the things they said meant.

We saw this at play again throughout the AYS episodes. I love how Jimin and Jungkook instantly get each other and how they immediately pick up what the other is saying while others around them are still trying to figure things out. This is one of the ways you can tell that two people spend alot of time together and know each other deep.

*Jikook don’t need alot to feel happy and to have fun with each other

Jimin and Jungkook are two people who can create fun and happiness for themselves in any situation. They don’t need to be doing any fun physical activities to really enjoy or have fun being around each other. Just a simple drive, a walk, a meal, or just sitting down talking is fun for them. Just a train ride listening to music from the same airphones is interesting and fun to them. They don’t get bored around each other doing the most mundane things. They honestly enjoy the smallest things and as Jungkook said “These simple things were fun” (referring to walking around the streets of Tokyo with Jimin in 2017)

They create their happiness and fun anywhere they are doing anything …..

It’s just the little things….

Little 5 year olds playing after lights out😂

*Jungkook loves making Jimin laugh

This is something we all already knew but seeing it again in AYS was so cute. Jungkook really loves making Jimin laugh and I guess that the fact that Jimin is usually ready to have all his teeth out laughing and any little thing Jungkook does, gives him more motivation. Jungkook doesn’t mind looking like a clown if it means that it will make Jimin laugh. He teases him even sometimes just to get a chuckle out of him.

* Jimin finds Jungkook very endearing

Do I even need to explain this? Sometimes it feels like to Jimin, Jungkook is the cutest, most endearing, funniest person in the world. I don’t think we see Jimin laugh around any other people as much as he laughs around Jungkook. The man is a giggling mess anytime he is around Jungkook and I can’t even blame him because Jungkook sure likes making him laugh. He sometimes gets lost in Jungkook too you know….

*Jikook just get each other

Another thing I noticed again in AYS is how much Jikook just get each other. They don’t need words ti understand how the other feels. Doesn’t matter if they are being silly or serious, they just get what the other person is trying to express.

An example of this would be while they were at the ham and pink sausage restaurant in Jeju, after their little “incident” Jungkook immitated a meme which someone did when he needed an apology and Jimin understood what Jungkook needed immediately just by seeing him immitating that meme, and he apologized.

(First clip from this compilation)

Another moment that showed how much they just get each other was in episode 8 when Jungkook noticed that Jimin felt sad about the trip ending. Jimin didn’t say anything but Jungkook noticed it and starting doing stuff to cheer him on starting from playfully touching his head (even though he knew Jimin didn’t like when his head got touched) and reminding everyone that Jimin doesn’t like it bit he is doing it, to teasing him with the camera in his face infront of the restaurant to opening the windows of the car on their drive to the airport because he knew Jimin had said he goes to cold places when he is is a slump.

Touching his head

Playfully zooming into his face with the camera

Opening the windows to let the cold air in to lift their moods:

We also saw him being soft and reassuring to Jimin after he sensed that Jimin felt bad about the trip ending. What he says here, how he looks at Jimin and how he rubs Jimin’s nape/back trying to comfort him, was so beautiful.

* Jungkook likes zooming into Jimin’s face

Do I even need to explain this part? We’ve seen him do this for years and it was kinda funny to see it again on AYS

*Jimin is Jungkook’s Jungkook!

I don’t even know how to explain this other than saying than showing you this….

Jimin constantly singing Jungkook’s “3D” as “peuriri” and constantly going “standing next to you” every two seconds is so Jungkook of him. Jungkook gets a taste of his own medicine and doesn’t know how to handle it.

*They clearly keep up with each other/ they know each other so well

Contrary to haters beliefs that Jikook don’t keep up with each other outside of content, it is clear that they do. We saw it when Jimin dropped “Face” and we saw it again on AYS with Jimin and singing Jungkook’s song before it was released, Jimin knowing about Jungkook’s schedules, Jungkook knowing about Jimin’s second album release and even seeing the video of Jimin dancing with kids. Infact during the Jeju and Sapporo episodes, it was so obvious to see that those two knew alot about each other’s activities, schedules and plans. You didn’t see them getting surprised after getting information about each other.

To add to this, it was very clear that Jungkook knows what Jimin likes and vice versa. He knew Jimin would like his food spicy, he knew Jimin would enjoy the beef stew he cooked in Jeju. Jimin knew Jungkook would enjoy climbing and racing so he picker that place. Jimin knew Jungkook liked driving abroad, Jimin knew Jungkook had to go to the US to film with Usher etc. No arguments here.

* Jungkook loves to cook for Jimin

We already knew this but this was once again confirmed in AYS.

* The people around Jikook know how much Jikook are around each other.

Over the years, we have heard from members and people around Jikook say just how much time Jikook spend together and we once again got something like that from AYS.

Tae saw Jk do the soju bottle trick and immediately assumed that Jimin taught him. This is something that many people would miss but If Jikook didn’t have a habit of being together alot and drinking together, Tae who actually knows two of them personally wouldn’t have immediately assumed Jimin taught Jk that trick after seeing him do it and the funniest thing is, Jimin said Jk didn’t even learn it from him so why didn’t Tae think of anyone else or even assume that Jk learnt from tiktok or youtube? Why did his mind immediately go to Jimin? Jimin is not the only member or only person connected to Jungkook who drinks Soju. It was interesting getting yet again another confirmation of just how much the members and people around Jikook know about them being together alot.

*Taekook and Jikook are NOT the same.

I’m sure everyone already knows this but watching the Jeju episodes with Vminkook just once again showed how much of a difference there is between Jk bond with Tae and Jimin.

While some jikookers didn’t like the fact that Tae joined Jikook in Jeju, I loved it because I love seeing vminkook together as they are adorable and also because when they are together, you really get to see the difference in their dynamics. It was very noticeable how Tae and Jk bring out the chaos, playfulness and childishness from each other and they have so much fun doing activities together but you could see clearly that those two just don’t gravitate to each other in the same way Jikook do. By gravitating to each other I don’t mean sitting side by sideto have meals and none of that nonsense taekookers consider people gravitating towards each other. What I mean is, even if Jikook are not seated together, it was easy to see how their eyes searched for each other while they talked. While they all discussed, it was easy to see that Jk’s eyes mostly searched for Jimin’s and vice versa, it was easy to see how they mostly talked to and interacted with each other more during meals even though Tae was there. It was easy to see how they usually stayed with each other after their baths and only went to bed together while Tae always went to bed earlier. It was easy to see how when ever they had meals, Jikook would always look to each other to ask “is it good” regardless of whether they were alone or with Tae. They spoke to each other more, interacted more and even when Jk tasted something that seemed familiar to what he had had before, he looked to Jimin to ask if it was what they had at another restaurant at some point.

They understand each other in ways others don’t. They quickly get each other’s jokes while Tae sometimes looked a little lost. They have the same humor infact, you just cannot miss to see the difference when you pay attention. It was as clear as day and night.

It was also clear that unlike Jikook, taekook don’t really feel the need to be around each other much when they aren’t actively doing anything. We all saw how early tae usually went to bed not caring alot to hang around Jk, we saw how much time he spent on his phone even while they all were together, we all saw how even when Jk got out of the pool just after Tae did in episode 5, he didn’t go to shower at the same time Tae did. We Tae leave to shower and go to bed while Jk stayed behind teasing and playing with Jimin before they showered and later went to bed together around 4am. It was the same thing that happened the night before. Jk was clearly thoughtful of Tae and wanted him to feel included but we could see that he didn’t really feel the need being around him much because if he did he probably would have showered and gone to stay upstairs with Tae but he didn’t. He stayed downstairs with Jimin and they only left for bed together while tae was already asleep. This isn’t new as we know Jikook have always loved spending time alone together at nights and in their quiet moments but it was interesting to see unfold in AYS.

Remember all the times members (especially Tae) mentioned Jikook being together alot at nights? Some people said he lied all those times because he was hiding his relationship but we could all see that happen in AYS. It happened on both nights they were there.

While Jikook have this strong gravitational pull and enjoy being around each other’s vicinity at all times and not just when there are fun activities or other things to be done, we could see that this wasn’t the same with taekook. Tae felt like napping, he went upstairs to nap, Jimin felt like napping, he napped in the living room next to Jungkook who was cooking. Over the years, we have tons of moments where Jk could be seen going to sit or sleep by an already sleeping Jimin. They crave each other’s presence even when they aren’t doing anything but this isn’t the same for taekook and AYS confirmed that once again.

*Jikook are so domestic

Watching AYS, it was so easy to see just how domestic Jikook are. We got an opportunity to have a look into what their lives and days look like when they are not busy being idols and it was the most comforting beautiful thing ever. Them waking up and going to cuddle each other, cooking together eating together, going shopping together with Jungkook disappearing and getting on Jimin’s nerves😂, have little discussion’s together, drinking together, watching and reacting to a show of themselves together, making plans to eat, sleep, shower, play etc together, it was just so perfect. Perfectly and positively boring everyday life yet they looked like they had so much fun doing all of that TOGETHER!

*They have the most random conversations and do the weirdest things

Just jimin casually talking about wanting to sculpt his ass and Jungkook listening attentively😂

Whatever this conversation was……

I don’t know what goes on in their minds

Whatever this was

*Jungkook loves Jimin’s attention /loves to tease him to get it

*Jungkook is inlove with FOOD!

He looks at food like true love😂

*Jikook could be sus sometimes or most of the time tbh

Whatever this was…..

I mean….

This taken out of context…..

Hmmmmmm……

*Jikook like to bicker

They bicker sometimes like an old married couple

*Jimin and Jungkook loved their trips with each other!

Do I even need to explain this? I feel like the entire episode 8 explains this pretty well.

Ok, so these are some of my observations about Jikook from AYS. I might be editing this post in the future to add some more observations as I rewatch the entire show to see if I can catch other things I missed. Consider this my review of the show.

[itneverendshere]

hi! For the bartender!Universe would u mind writing a pregnancy scare? It brings a lot of mixed emotions when they find out she wasn’t pregnant and it ends up a really deep talk about what they want with their future? Thank you so much 💕💕

i got a similiar ask at the exact same time so i decided to combine aspects of both!!! the other request: "this one’s a lil angsty. maybe you have a pregnancy scare and while rafes like super excited for the potential baby, you’re not, the stress of keeping rafe clean and not heading back to rehab lingers your mind".

hope you both enjoy!!!!❤️🫂🤭

 just want you in my life keep you warm at nights - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: pregnancy scare; insecurities

Rafe was sprawled out beside you, his arm draped lazily across your stomach as he scrolled through his phone. You could feel the pressure of his hand pressing gently on your skin, but your mind was a million miles away, your gaze stuck on the ceiling fan.

It felt like everything had been on autopilot for the past few days, your mind preoccupied with one thing—late. Not like a few days late.

More like over a week late.

It wasn’t the first time your period had been irregular, but you couldn’t help but spiral immediately. Rafe and you had been together for three and a half years, living together for a while now and he’d proposed last autumn. But this? This wasn’t part of the plan.

Not yet.

“Hey,” His voice snapped you back to the present, his brows furrowed as he looked at you, concern evident in his blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You blinked, trying to force a smile. “Nothing... just thinking.”

He shifted, propping himself up on his elbow to look at you more closely. “Thinkin’ about what?”

You stomach dropped. You hadn’t told him yet. You weren’t sure if there was anything to tell because you hadn’t even taken the test. You weren’t sure if you wanted to. Saying it out loud would make it real. And that terrified you.

Rafe, on the other hand, would probably be thrilled. He’d always talked about kids like they were a given, like it was part of some unspoken future you were destined for. You wanted them too, but the truth? The truth was, the idea of being responsible for another human being when you were still trying to recover from Rafe's scare last year and keeping your shit together now that you’d gotten a promotion at the club—well, it felt like too much.

You couldn’t say that, though. Not to him. So you kept quiet. 

The next day, you stared at the small plastic stick in your hand, heart hammering in your chest as you waited for the result to appear. The bathroom was dead silent, save for the faint drip of the sink, but your mind was anything but quiet.

This one stupid piece of plastic was going to dictate the rest of your life. It could change everything in the blink of an eye. Three minutes. That’s how long it would take to find out if your entire world was about to be turned upside down.

You still hadn’t told Rafe. You didn’t even know how to. His mind was in a good place lately, and you weren’t about to ruin that. After everything we’d been through—the relapse, the rehab, the nights where you weren’t sure if he’d make it out—this was not something you were ready to throw on both of you.

You hadn’t even wrapped your head around it yet. Shit, you could barely breathe just thinking about the possibility. You glanced at your phone, biting your lip as the seconds ticked by.

Almost time. Your stomach twisted into endless knots. He was in the living room, blissfully unaware of the panic attack you were on the verge of having just a few feet away. You could hear him flipping through channels on the TV, probably looking for some show to watch. Part of you felt guilty for not telling him, but how were you supposed to tell him when you didn’t even know what you wanted?

The idea of being pregnant had scared you more than you expected.

Not because you hated kids or anything, you grew up rising Milo for fuck’s sake—it was just the timing. Or maybe it was more than that.

Your mom died shortly after you were born and your dad…well, a drunk piece of shit was hardly a good parental figure. You’d never let yourself think about it before, Rafe had told you how good you were with kids a million times over the years, but you didn’t know how you’d turn out with your own kids. You didn’t want to be anything like them, ever. 

Taking a deep breath, you finally glanced down at the test.

Negative.

Relief took over you so fast it made you feel lightheaded. You hadn’t realized just how much pressure you’d been carrying on your shoulders until it was gone in an instant. Thank God.

Your shoulders slumped as you exhaled, leaning against the sink for support. You felt like you finally could breathe again, like you could relax for the first time in what felt like weeks. There was no baby. No life-altering change. No new responsibility that you didn’t know how to handle.

You closed your eyes. This was good. This was the outcome you needed. No baby, no stress, just… back to normal.

But then, life had a twisted sense of humor and the door creaked open. “Hey, baby, you—”

Your eyes flew open, heart dropping in your chest as you quickly shoved the pregnancy test behind your back. Rafe stood in the doorway, looking at you with his signature confused look—one eyebrow cocked, lips slightly parted, like he’d walked in on something he wasn’t supposed to.

You forced a smile, too wide and too fake, and took a step back, trying to act casual. “Oh, uh, hey! What’s up?” Your voice cracked on the last word, and you internally winced. Smooth.

He narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “What are you hiding behind your back?”

Shit.

You tried to laugh it off, shaking your head like it was no big deal. “Hiding? Me? I’m not hiding anything.”

His eyes moved to the hand behind your back. “Really? Because it sure looks like you are.”

You swallowed hard, your brain rushing to come up with some excuse, any excuse. 

But the longer you stood there, the more suspicious you looked. And Rafe was nothing if not persistent when he thought something was up. Before you could stop him, he pushed off the doorframe and closed the distance between you two, his hand reaching behind your back in one smooth motion. Your stomach dropped as he grabbed the test from your hand, pulling it out in front of both of us.

He stared at the pregnancy test in his hand, his eyes widening with realization as he slowly processed what he was seeing. What he was holding. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out at first. He just stood there. 

“Y-You thought you were pregnant?”

The heat rose to your cheeks, and the anxiety that had been building in your stomach for days came back at full force. You were still reeling from the relief of the negative result, but now that relief was giving up space for guilt. You hadn’t meant for him to find out like this, or maybe not even at all. You didn’t want to drag him into the spiral you’d been caught in, not when things had been going so well lately.

“I... I wasn’t sure,” you stammered, looking down at the floor because it was easier than meeting his eyes. “I mean, I was late, and I just…I didn’t know.”

Rafe’s face softened, the confusion in his eyes giving way to concern as he took a step toward you. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing again, this time for a different reason. The last thing you wanted to do was lie but telling him the truth felt impossible.

“I didn’t want to stress you out,” you admitted, “I wasn’t even sure if I was, and I didn’t want to freak you out for no reason.”

Rafe’s hand was still holding the test, but now he was looking at you with that intensity he always had when he knew you were telling the entire truth. He wasn’t mad—he never got mad, not anymore—but you could tell he was hurt that you hadn’t let him in. You felt awful about it.

“I wouldn’t have freaked out,” he said gently, stepping even closer until he was right in front of you. “You know that, right? You don’t have to do this alone.”

That was the thing, though. Over the past year you’d spent so long worrying about him, making sure he was healthy, that the idea of burdening him again with your own fears had become...strange.

You didn’t want to be another weight on his shoulders.

“I know, I just…” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t know how to feel about it. And I didn’t want you to—”

“To what?” he pressed softly, his voice so calm and reassuring that it made the stress loosen just a little.

You took a deep breath, “I didn’t want you to get your hopes up, I guess. Or feel disappointed if it was negative.”

He set the test down on the counter beside him, reaching out to cup your face in his hands. “Baby, I wouldn’t be disappointed,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “If it had been positive, great. If it’s not, that’s fine too. We’ve got time. It’s not like we have to figure this out right now.”

The lump in your throat made it hard to speak. “You’re really not mad?”

Rafe shook his head, “I wish you would’ve told me what you were going through. I don’t want you to carry that by yourself.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. There was so much you wanted to say, so many fears you’d been holding onto—not just about the possibility of being pregnant, but about everything. About whether you were even ready for kids at all, about what kind of parent you’d be, about whether you could handle the responsibility when your past still haunted you in ways you hadn’t recovered from.

“It’s not just that,” you whispered, “I don’t know if I’m ready, Rafe. And it scares the shit out of me.”

He was silent for a moment, and when you finally opened your eyes to look at him, his expression was so gentle, so understanding, that it almost broke you.

“Hey,” he pulled you into his arms. “We don’t have to be ready right now. There’s no rush. When you’re ready, we’ll talk about it."

You buried your face in his chest, letting him heartbeat calm you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, and for the first time in what felt like days, you allowed yourself to relax.

“I-I know you want a baby. But—”

He sighed against your hair, lips brushing your temple, “What I want is for you to be happy. And if this doesn’t make you happy right now, I don’t mind waiting. We got forever, remember?”

It wasn’t that you didn’t want kids—it was that right now, everything already felt like too much. Planning a wedding, keeping up with work, holding your relationship together after what you both had been through, it was all overwhelming. And then the idea of a baby on top of that? You’d grow crazy.

Rafe’s fingers brushed through your hair, and you just let yourself be in his comfort. But the guilt was still there, eating you whole from the inside. You should’ve told him from the start, not carried it all on your own like you always do.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered into his chest, voice muffled. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I just didn’t know what to do. It’s been a lot lately.”

He kissed the top of your head, his hands gentle as they held you. “You don’t have to apologize, baby. You’re dealing with enough already.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, I think I’m losing my mind.”

The wedding. God, the wedding. You hadn’t even let yourself fully acknowledge how much that had been stressing you out too. You’d dreamed about this day since you were a kid, but now, between caterers, guest lists, dress fittings, and everything else, it felt like a full-time job. And the worst part was, the more overwhelmed you got, the more guilty you felt for not being excited enough about it.

“I just want everything to be perfect,” you admitted, biting your lip. “I want it to be special, but it’s starting to feel like a chore. Like I’m supposed to care more about seating charts and floral arrangements than... than actually enjoying the fact that we’re getting married.”

 “Then let’s cut back. We don’t need some huge, over-the-top thing if it’s stressing you out. I just want to marry you, that’s all that matters to me.”

He always knew exactly how to calm you down, how to remind you what was important when everything else felt a little too crazy.

“But what about your family?” you asked, wiping at the corner of your eyes. “They’re expecting this big thing.”

He shrugged, “They’ll get over it. This is about us, not them. If you want something smaller, we can do that. Hell, we can get married in the backyard for all I care, as long as it’s what you want.”

The sincerity in his voice almost made you want to bawl your eyes out. You took a deep breath, nodding slowly. “I think I’d like that. Something smaller. More us.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he nodded. You let out a sigh of relief, the knot in your chest loosening more. Maybe this was what you needed—to let go of the pressure to have it all figured out. To accept that it was okay to not be ready for everything.

“I love you,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.

“I love you too,” he replied, his forehead resting against yours. “But baby, you have to stop worrying so much about me. I’m okay. I’m doing good, and I’m not going back there. But you’re gonna drive yourself crazy if you keep putting me first and ignoring what you need.”

You blinked, your breath catching slightly. “I’m not ignoring what I need—”

“You are,” he cut in gently, but firmly. “You’ve been doing it for months now. Since the relapse, since rehab. You’ve been carrying all this, stressing about keeping everything together. And I love you for wanting to take care of me, but you can’t keep putting yourself second. It’s not fair to you.”

You wanted to argue, to say you were fine, that it was just what you had to do to keep everything from falling apart. But deep down, you knew he was right. You’d been holding on so tight, so terrified that if you let go, if you stopped worrying about him for even a second, you’d lose him again. 

“I’m just scared,” you whispered, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” Rafe said softly, pulling you closer. “But if you keep this up, you’re gonna lose yourself.”

You closed your eyes, pressing your face into his chest as the tears you’d been holding back finally started to fall. Rafe held you tighter, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. He didn’t try to hush you or tell you to stop. He just let you cry, let you get it all out, like he knew you’d needed this release for a long time. You couldn’t stop. Everything you’d been bottling up for months was spilling out at once.

Rafe held you tighter, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. He didn’t try to hush you or tell you to stop. He just let you cry, let you get it all out, like he knew you’d needed this for a long time.

You pulled back slightly, sniffling as you wiped at your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop apologizing,” Rafe shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize for feeling what you’re feeling. But you’ve gotta start trusting that I’m okay."

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I know.”

"You’re allowed to let me take care of you too, you know?”

You let out a small laugh, wiping the last of the tears from your face. “I’m not great at that.”

“Meh, you used to be a lot worse.”

“Yeah?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, leaning into his familiar warmth.

“Oh yeah,” he smirked, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You used to keep everything so locked up, I’d have to pry things out of you.

His words made you chuckle, despite yourself. It was true. You had gotten better at letting him in—at least compared to before.

“You’ve always been so good at taking care of me,” you whispered, your hand tracing soft patterns across his chest. “But I guess sometimes I still forget that I don’t have to be strong all the time.”

 “You don’t. I’ve got you, baby. I’ve always got you.”

He meant it—every word. This was Rafe at his best, the man who had fought his way back from the darkness, who had become the partner you always knew he could be. The boy you fell in love with, the man you were going to marry and grow old with.

“I’m really trying,” you murmured, blinking back the last of your tears. “I don’t want to keep worrying about everything or trying to control what’s out of my hands. I just want us to be happy.”

“You make me happier than I’ve ever been, and I don’t want you to ever doubt that.”

You hesitated for a second, biting your lip before finally speaking up.

"Rafe?" you said softly, looking up at him. He hummed in response, his hand still tracing slow, comforting circles on your back.

"Are you… are you sure you're not sad about the, uh, not pregnant thing?" Your voice was quiet, unsure. You didn’t know why you felt the need to ask again. Even with all his reassurances, a part of you couldn’t ignore the worry that he might feel disappointed deep down.

He sighed gently, his lips quirking into a soft, understanding smile. "Baby, no," he said firmly, shaking his head as if to emphasize his point. "I promise you, I’m not sad. It doesn’t change anything between us. I told you before—we’ve got time. I’m happy with where we are right now. I don’t need a baby to make me feel complete. You already do that."

You couldn't help but ask again, just to be sure. "Really? You’re not disappointed?"

Rafe sighed softly, moving his hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he looked at you with those steady blue eyes. "Not disappointed. Not sad. I’m just glad you’re here. That’s all I care about. I’m fine with whatever the outcome is as long as I have you.”

"You’re really okay with this?" 

He frowned slightly, his hand coming up to gently tilt your chin so you were looking directly at him. "Listen to me. You could never disappoint me. Okay?"

You still had questions, still had insecurities about the future, but for the first time in days, you weren’t consumed by them and allowed yourself to believe that everything really was going to be good.

"Okay."

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

To clarify,I don't believe in porn makes you evil and I don't believe in like fantasies are evil. I'm pulling this quote off Scarleteen "“If we aren’t both careful and creative we can get stuck in fantasies that don’t mature and politicize with us."" I'm also new to being about to vote, so I'm trying to be careful about what I consume and what stereotypes media perpetuate. Like I'm not moralizing about kink or anything, and my ask was how can I get aroused with media wo my kinks or wo media

hi anon, welcome back! I'm genuinely very glad to hear some follow up.

for anybody who doesn't stay vigorously up to date with all of my anons, this ask is a continuation of this one.

so I went and checked out the Scarleteen articles you mentioned in your first message, or at least I tried to. How to Approach Sexual Fantasies and Desire on Your Own Terms is here, and while I couldn't find anything with the exact title 50 Shades of Abuse, we do have 50 Shades of BS - How to Tell the Difference Between Kink and Abuse as well as 50 Shades Crappier: On Selling Abuse for Valentine's Day, both of which cover how the 50 Shades series isn't a great model of real, responsibly-practiced BDSM.

now, here's what I didn't see in any of these articles: an assertion that anybody needs to, as you've decided to do, avoid any work that depicts anything less than perfectly healthy sexual practices.

the closest we get to that is the quote by adrienne maree brown from How to Approach Sexual Fantasies, which you mention above. now, here's the thing: first of all, I actually disagree pretty substantially with brown's assertions that one's sexual fantasies need to "politicize." I know what my politics are; the fiction that I enjoy can't change that, because I don't have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair. I actually just talked about that earlier today in another ask.

(also, and this may be an unpopular opinion, but adrienne maree brown is kind of a dork who doesn't really say much of anything in Pleasure Activism that Audre Lorde didn't already say better and more succinctly, and I personally lost interest in Pleasure Activism pretty much the moment she casually dropped that she practices reiki healing because that's a pseudoscientific alternative medicine that doesn't do shit or fuck. but I digress.)

listen, I'm not trying to peer pressure or bully you into watching anything you don't want to watch. your porn consumption is up to you. but what you're doing here is absolutely moralizing, I think maybe because of an underlying assumption that media that involves sex is just, like, innately different than any other type of media, which is in itself an idea that stems from sex negativity!

I don't know, let's just try to play out a little thought exercise here. like, would you consider it reasonable if somebody told you that they've decided not to read or watch anything that depicts problematic behavior because they don't want to normalize it. like, first of all, they're never watching anything but Bluey again. except actually not even Bluey because I just remembered about Bluey in the genocide, which actually makes for a great illustration of how nonsensical and impossible it is to try to only engage with media that is 100% ideologically pure.

and again: that's fine! that's literally fine! it is 100% okay to watch or read or play things with morals that don't totally 100% align with yours. it's okay to enjoy them, even. it's a lot healthier than trying to avoid upsetting or incongruous things entirely, because that gives you the chance to actually think about it rather than trying to shut it out entirely! that article actually provides an entire list of questions you can run through with yourself to critically analyze the things you watch if you feel so inclined! that's a much better skill to practice than avoidance!

I get that when you're new to sex, as you said in the previous ask, this might seem daunting, but your brain isn't just a sponge that will uncritically soak up and adopt anything you expose it to. you very clearly have the ability to research, differentiate between fiction and real life, and form your own opinions! and it is absolutely fine if you want to just watch porn with your kinks!

like, listen, I see what the question is, and the easiest answer is just. do whatever gets you off.

[anamericangirl]

A South Carolinan woman was arrested and held for 22 days in jail after being initially denied bond, but eventually released with an ankle monitor, after suffering a miscarriage of a wanted daughter in the second trimester and being charged with murder.

This is the horror of criminalizing abortion. Jail time for a miscarriage.

It's great that y'all send me these stories because the lies you and the media spread need to be exposed and I'm happy to be the one to expose you as the liar you are.

And I'm done being nice about this. Just so you know, spitting lies in my inbox doesn't work on me because I actually read the stories and will provide the context you maliciously leave out and show everyone that pro-aborts like you never tell the truth.

First of all, the story you are referring is about a woman named Amari Marsh and what actually happened here was she woke up in the middle of the night in a lot of pain and went to the bathroom where she gave birth to a live baby over the toilet.

Her boyfriend called 911 and dispatcher repeatedly told her to get the baby, who was still alive, out of the toilet but no one did. And the reason she gave for ignoring the dispatcher and just leaving her child to drown in the toilet was "“I couldn’t because I couldn’t even keep myself together.”

When the emergency responders arrived the baby was still in the toilet and still alive. They attempted to perform life saving procedures and rushed the baby to the hospital but sadly, the baby died while at the hospital.

The reason she was arrested is because she failed to remove her living daughter from the toilet as she was instructed to do several times by the dispatcher which ended up being "a proximate cause of her daughter’s death."

Anti-abortion laws had nothing to do with this case and the CNN article that reports on this story even includes that admission from the prosecutor even though it's at the end because, like you, they are liars and want people to believe this is somehow the fault of abortion bans when it's not.

So tell me, what do abortion laws have to do with this? What anti-abortion law is responsible for the death of a baby that was born alive?

This baby was born alive and her mother left her to die in the toilet. So she should not be charged for that?

And also, just going to add people like you always claim infanticide has nothing do with abortion and y'all are still laughing at Donald Trump for talking about babies being left to die after birth following failed abortions because iT dOeSnT't HaPpEn but here we have a case of it happening. This baby was born alive and left to die. This was a case of infanticide and you pro-aborts are immediately blaming anti-abortion laws but I thought abortion and infanticide aren't related so how come they are in this case?

Anyway, you should feel bad about how you presented this story. You should be ashamed of yourself for either being willing to lie to promote murder or being too lazy and stupid to actually read about the case before spreading blatant disinformation.

I know me responding to you with what really happened will not change anything for you and you will continue to lie and spread disinformation because the reason you are willing to do that in the first place is a serious flaw in your character that will only change when you decide to be a better person but at the very least people reading this will know not to ever trust these claims from pro-aborts because it's always a lie.

So please keep sending these because it helps everyone see that pro-aborts are bad people who lie about everything.

[hannahluvsbillie]

causal.

pairing: billie x reader

a/n: this is my first time writing a blurb like this! sorry if it’s lowkey messy and confusing, let me know if it is 😓. i came up with this idea half awake at 1 am and i thought i’d post it here!! ok bye im talking too much

warnings: none (maybe angst if you squint)

“this’ll be casual right?”

billie says, looking into your eyes. the moon shining through the windshield of her car, giving the car a type of lighting that can’t be recreated, especially as it’s shining on her.

you nod. you’ll regret nodding in the later months. when everything doesn’t feel casual. especially these car rides you two have. where she picks you up, then somehow you two end up in the backseat, her between your legs, praising you like your the only woman that really matters to her.

“yeah. causal.” you say under your breath.

billie just nods, smile still lingering on her face as she backs up out of the parking spot and starts to drive back to your apartment.

i tried to be the cool girl that holds her tounge and gives you space.

you and billie were driving, again. it’s become a weekly routine of yours. she picks you up, then she drives to nowhere in specific. then you end up in a parking lot, in the back seat. every. time.

suddenly, her phone lights up. out of pure instinct you look down at it, seeing a DM from instagram. you immediately recognize the username, that’s the girl you saw in her following. it was almost like the username lit up with red light to you.

billie glances over and sees you looking down at her phone, she casually puts her hand over the phone and flips it over to where you couldn’t see it. of course she’s hiding it from you.

whatever, it wasn’t like you two where exclusive. no matter how much you wished you two were, it would never happen.

a few weeks later, you two where in the same spot. the same thing happened. her phone lit up with the same username.

it may of been the lack of sleep you got last night, but you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“who’s that?” you say softly, glancing up at billie.

“hm?” she hums, her hand resting on your thigh. she looks down at her phone and if you weren’t staring at her, you wouldn’t of seen it. but the slightest bit of anxiety crosses her face.

“oh, just some girl.” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing.

she does the same thing she did last time, and the time before last. she flips her phone over.

“are yall two… like a thing?” you say softly, your voice dripping with anxiety.

“don’t worry about it mama.” she says, looking over at you for a split second.

you wanted to chuck her phone out the window at that moment, irritated by her causal response.

you take a deep breath, this could either lead to another argument or to just a brush off response from her. deep down you hoped for the latter.

“how many girls do you talk to bills?” you say, your tone comes off annoyed. your true emotions showing.

her hand grips your thigh just a bit harder, and her eyebrows raised at your tone.

“whys it matter?”

“we aren’t exclusive.” she says the last sentence under her breath.

that last sentence felt like she just stabbed you in the chest. even though you knew deep down that was the truth, you had found yourself believing a false reality, that maybe she did want more with you. that you could be her one and only.

“oh- i was just wondering.” you say, sounding small. she always had a way to make you feel like you were in the wrong.

but no, it was all just a game to her. your just another one of the girls she talks to. you always will be to her.

[niceandaccurategoodomensanalysis]

I was not able to find the source for this pic! If you know about it, please let me know in the comments or via direct! Thank you!

Religious trauma in Good Omens: Aziraphale's case

We talk about religious trauma and the state of constant psychological abuse and manipulation experienced by those who suffer it, using Aziraphale as an example.

DISCLAIMER

This post is about painful experiences and the different ways you can react to them. This may affect you in particular and be difficult or stressful to deal with.

Here I intend to speak to you about the trauma of Aziraphale. I use the singular not because it is a single event, but because it is a very specific type of trauma to which ours has been subjected continuously since the beginning of time: religious trauma.

WHAT IS RELIGIOUS TRAUMA

Religious trauma is a complex type of trauma that usually has its greatest impact during the period of development: a person grows up in a social context that is regulated according to the dictates of any sect, which greatly influences the way they approach reality and, above all, themselves.

Often, this trauma begins to affect the existence of the victim even before they begin to speak and thus have the capacity to articulate the memories associated with it. It is not necessarily this trauma that is marked by significant events: very often it is its impact on everyday life that literally conditions the people who experience it, placing them on a well-trodden path of conventions and moral imperatives from which they must not deviate.

We are all (obviously, given the fandom) familiar with the concept of original sin. When a person is brought up with the view that we are all born sinners because we have literally inherited that sin and must spend our lives making amends for what is in our nature, several things happen:

_we live with a constant sense of shame and fear of not making it, of not being enough; _we blindly trust those who raise us and show us the way, and we may not want to see the inherent hypocrisies and contradictions because that would bring us into conflict with reality; _as a result, we have an incredible fear of authority and will tend to respect hierarchies even when they do not make much sense to us, and also try not to question what we are told; _we want at all costs to be 'part of the herd' and conform to the group, so we will suppress anything that we feel is different and might cause us trouble.

Now let's consider that, growing up in such a context, we become aware that something is not quite right for us. It could be anything from realising that we have sexual urges, to being attracted to someone of the same sex, to feeling uncomfortable in our own bodies, and so on.

In response to all of this, we experience feelings of shame, self-loathing and a desire to repress that which takes us away from what is the right way to be.

All these things are cruelly represented in our beloved angel Aziraphale.

AZIRAPHALE'S TRAUMA

It is really difficult to talk about Aziraphale's pain, although it is probably the most obvious and easiest to explain in the series. Because it is tangible, it is realistic, many of us experience it all the time and can relate to it.

Aziraphale has won us over with his almost childlike tenderness and joy, with his tenderness for the little things, with his tendency to take to heart the well-being and happiness of every human being in front of him. He is pure, genuine, sensitive and always on the side of good. But behind his façade of a happy and enthusiastic little creature, there is a frightened, abused, insecure child full of shame and self-reproach. This will always condition his actions and will lead him to the painful and, as we shall see, inevitable epilogue in which he rejects Crowley's love to follow Metatron to Paradise.

TO DO WHAT IS RIGHT OR TO DO WHAT I MUST?

We immediately see how Aziraphale lives in a state of perpetual contradiction due to his strong sense of morality: in the series, the first thing we see of him is the moment when he gives Adam and Eve the flaming sword he received as guardian of the Eastern Gate, so that they would not be completely helpless in their escape from the Garden of Eden.

As well as entertaining Crowley (and winning his immediate admiration), the episode shows us from the outset that Aziraphale has a moral compass that always points in a very precise direction: the good of others. This will often lead him in the series to act on impulse, only to have to face the consequences of constituted authority, and create in him an everlasting sense of remorse: almost immediately he is asked by God himself to account for the sword, the very sword that was in danger of becoming an instrument of destruction in the hands of one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse - except that it was then the key to preventing it.

Unable to fight his nature, Aziraphale finds himself repeating the same actions over and over again: in the miniseries about the life of Job, his tenacity to save innocent creatures at all costs leads him to confront Crowley head-on, discovering his plan to circumvent the orders he was given and not kill anyone. But the web of lies he and the demon have woven tightens around him as Gabriel, Michael and the other angels descend to give Job the good news that he will be able to have more children in exchange for those who have been killed.

Aziraphale is thus forced to make a choice: tell the truth, exposing Crowley's deception and leading to the presumed murder of Job's children, or lie, saving everyone but tarnishing himself with what he sees as an unforgivable guilt. Our angel, as we know, chooses to lie. This causes him tremendous pain and leads him to believe that his fate is sealed and that he must fall. Despite having made the right choice.

Fortunately, as we know, none of this happens. But the fear of doing the wrong thing is always with him.

NATURAL ENEMIES

Aziraphale never makes it a secret that he despises Crowley's demonic nature. Never.

It is painful to compare the admiring look he gives him in S2E1 when he meets him in his angelic version, intent on starting the nebula he has been working on since the beginning of time, with the veiled look of shock (not to say a little disgust) he gives him in S1E1 when they meet again as an angel and a demon, on the walls of the Garden of Eden.

However, as soon as it starts to rain and Crowley gets close to him, Aziraphale immediately takes him under his wing. Aziraphale is an angel, and as such he loves no matter what. It is his peculiar and almost poisonous trait that leads him to help and to forgive even those who have wronged him.

Aziraphale believes that Crowley should be forgiven and loved, but he cannot accept that he has feelings of love for him. This leads him to reflexively despise himself for what he feels, and to push Crowley away whenever he gets too close: think of the argument under the gazebo, or when, confronted with Crowley's suggestion that he take him for a ride after giving him the thermos of holy water, he tells him that he "runs too fast".

It is already obvious to us viewers, and to Aziraphale himself, that he has feelings for Crowley that go far beyond camaraderie, but he cannot let go of them: the fear of retribution and the contempt he feels for anything that is not angelic leads him once again to flounder in contradictions and adopt that yo-yo attitude that characterises all his interactions with Crowley.

THE FINAL TEMPTATION

Crowley is a demon sui generis: he is not really evil and does not mind harming others. In fact, if he can, he actively avoids doing so. However, he does enjoy temptation, and one of his favourite targets is our beloved angel. Still during the miniseries on the life of Job, we see Crowley's first successful temptation of Aziraphale: while the two are patiently waiting for the storm to pass in the cellar of the mansion, Crowley offers him a drink, but Aziraphale refuses, not wanting to succumb to the intoxication of the wine.

Crowley then suggests that he try some human food. The angel is initially disgusted, but makes no objection, and is so impressed by what he tastes that he devours the entire roast beef on the table. Crowley is delighted, and this gag of temptation for an invitation to dinner is repeated throughout the series. Whether the invitation comes from him or from Crowley, each time Aziraphale eats contentedly and our demon watches him eat with satisfaction.

Crowley can therefore be said to be initiating Aziraphale into the pleasures of the flesh, which he will indulge in to the fullest. Aziraphale is a hedonist who loves refined and special things: from antique books to bespoke clothing, passing records, tea and sushi. He loves the objects he surrounds himself with and treats them with care: remember the white gloves he wears before leafing through the only existing copy of Agnes Nutter's Prophecies!

Aziraphale delights in touching his surroundings, and we have already talked about how his predominant love language is physical contact. As much as he can control himself, he touches our demon every time he gets his hands on him. He cannot help it. He desires it, and while Aziraphale has not realised this for the better part of 6,000 years on Earth, in the last century he has come to acknowledge it openly.

This leads Aziraphale to experience another contradiction: he wants to have more physical contact with Crowley, but he cannot. Crowley is a demon, he is the enemy, he is everything he abhors, but the angel he was is always there, alive, before his eyes, and it is out of love for that angel that Aziraphale accepts Metatron's proposal, faced with the prospect of being able to take Crowley back to Paradise with him. So they could be together, in the sunlight, with the approval of God and all, in an angelic way.

But Crowley unexpectedly, desperately, refuses.

Our angel feels betrayed, but has no choice but to accept Crowley's will.

Here is the irreparable, the ultimate temptation our demon could offer: a kiss, a last desperate cry for love, a plea for help, a series of meanings too great to be expressed in words. Crowley grabs Aziraphale by the lapels and for a few very long seconds their lips meet.

Aziraphale has never experienced anything like this before (probably not even Crowley) and feelings stir inside him that he has never even been able to name. Feelings that frighten him, feelings that bring back his contempt for himself and his being far from angelic nature. Aziraphale desires Crowley, discovers that he wants to be kissed by a demon (as the writers of the show themselves have revealed to us), and all of this clashes with everything he has ever been. He has just witnessed the contempt of angels and demons for the love of Beelzebub and Gabriel, he has just risked extinction for helping the fugitive Archangel, and yet Crowley tempts him with a sweet and terrible kiss.

But Aziraphale is an angel, and as such he loves and forgives.

So he forgives Crowley.

But Crowley, by definition, is unforgivable: disappointed and embittered by his beloved's rejection, he leaves.

Aziraphale does not really want to go to Paradise, but his desire to be part of the herd, his need to be loved and accepted by his faction, drives him to go, to do what is right, what is expected of him as an angel.

As he gets into the lift and asks Metatron what his task will be, he discovers that he will have to deal with the very thing he had already averted in the past: the Second Coming, the Last Judgement. He realises his mistake, realises that he is trapped, and once again wonders if he should do what is right or what he must do.

This time, however, it wins what he must: after one last look at Crowley, watching from afar, Aziraphale climbs into the lift with Metatron that will take him to Paradise. His trauma is so deep and ingrained that it has removed any prospect of being worthy of love except in the light of divine approval.

Although leaving everything he loves - Crowley, Earth, the Library - causes him enormous pain, Aziraphale must return to Paradise and fulfil his destiny.

More infos at Religious trauma syndrome - Wikipedia

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[mindless-existence1]

Sub Gojo is a Virgin and you take his card

Summery: When you and Gojo start dating he's definitely acts all experienced, newsflash he's not. So when it comes to your first time he's a bit apprehensive. But eventually you get to rock his world.

REQUESTS OPEN PLS SEND! REQUESTS OPEN FOR FLUFF AND KINKTOBER AS WELL.

Authors note: This was run to write but took so long istg. This is a reader who has a dick but that's the only thing relating to gender or physical appearance. Enjoy!

For a while now your boyfriend Gojo has been acting....strange. He's always been cocky, calling himself "the honored one" and acting like he owns the world. Even when it comes to dating he seems to be the most experienced in the feild. He sure acts like it.

But a few weeks ago to were making out during movie night- a semi regular occurrence -and you thought 'finally a good time to get steamy with your mega super hot boyfriend which you love dearly'.

But when you attempted to take it further he immediately stopped you. Gojo's infinity went up, which it's never up around you, this caused your hand to be pushed away from him and you stopped having contact entirely. He seemed flush and almost embarrassed by the hand that was moving higher up his thigh.

Gojo quickly rushed out a mumbled excuse about wanting to watch the movie. It took him a minute to take down the infinity so the two of you could cuddle again. What was weird is that you could tell the boner he had was hurting, it was straining against the fabric of his pants as he failed to hide it.

But you didn't wish to push as to not make him uncomfortable. If Gojo didn't want to take the next step then you guys weren't going to take the next step. But it has been weeks since then and you've be together for a while and yet...nothing. What surprises you the most is how he's gone this long without sex.

Before you started dating he seemed to be with a new girl every night and now nothing. You know Gojo isn't cheating on you so how has he been able to hold himself back, and why?

That takes you to now, the two of you were cuddling on his bed just doing your own things on your phones. You couldn't pay attention to whatever you were looking at though. "Hey Satoru, can I ask a question?" You ask turning slightly so you were facing him.

"Well you just did but I'll let you ask another one." He chuckles as you roll your eyes. Gojo puts down his phone and props himself onto his elbow. Despite feeling self continous out of your mind you decide to ask your question straight up.

"Why haven't we had sex yet? Is it something I did or what?" You start to ramble slightly, suddenly everything comes pouring out. After a few second Gojo leans forward and catching you in a kiss the effectively shuts you up.

"You could have just asked nicely you know? Didn't think you were this desperate." He teases you again but this time his voice wavers and he seems unsure of himself, very un-Gojo like. "Well whenever I tried to start something you pushed away." Your basically pouting against his lips now.

"I- well um" Gojo stutters out some nonsense and turns his head away slightly in embarrassment. "I just thought maybe you didn't want to." Gojo's excuse is weak at best and he knows it. You notice his weird behavior but can tell something is going on.

"Well how about now, I want to. Do you?" Your questions makes him fumble but he nods his head. You put a hand on his cheek and lean in to kiss him, Gojo responds but can't match your pace.

When you move to sit on Gojo lap he outs his hands on your waist. After a minute of making out you slowly kiss his cheek and move down towards his neck. "Y-, Y/n wait." You keep kissing the same spot on his neck that you know makes him squirm.

Humming out a response you stop your attack on his neck so he can talk. "I- ummm I've never..... you know." Gojo makes a motion with his hands that almost makes you chuckle, but you feel this isn't a joking situation.

It does take you by surprise tho, what does he mean he hasn't done anything? The Statoru Gojo, the honored one, the one who brags about how much a ladies man he is, who has girls fawning over him day and night, is a virgin?  He must have taken your silence as a bad sign by the way he lightly pushed at your shoulders.

"I get it if you don't want to anymore." He rushes out, before he pushes you away you bite down onto his neck. Gojo whines and his arms go slack on your shoulders. "It's ok baby, that just means I get to take carre of you tonight."

He feels your hot breath on his skin and flinches slightly, "Yes- fuck please." Gojo's begging falters in embarrassment but makes your core twist. Your pants start to get tightens and you make a move to slip your hands under his shirt.

Before you can get underneath the fabric an invisible force pushes you away. Although his infinity isn't as big as normal it is still covering Gojo in a way that keeps you from touching him. It takes you by suprise but by the way he reacted he seems suprised to.

"Fuck- please I can't control it I'm sorry-" Gojo babbles out nonsense as the infinity wavers, cutting in and out. "Oh but Satoru I can't make you feel good if you keep this up." You purr near his ear. He chokes on a moan and rambles out more apologies.

"Common pretty boy, don't you want me to make you feel good?" The nickname causes him to falter which results in the infinity falling down as well. The second you know it's off you quickly lean in locking Gojo in a kiss.

He whines in it when he feels your hands rubbing up on his torso. Gojo's breathing gets shaky, he fumbles to taking his shirt off. You chuckle, "It's ok Satoru, just calm down. Let yourself enjoy it." He weakly nods his head.

Gojo's pale chest is flushed a deep red, with a swift moment you brush your hands over his perk nipples. He whimpers at the foreign feeling, "How do you want to do this baby?" You voice is smooth like honey, you're  kissing up and down his toned chest.

"I- I want you to" Gojo fumbles to get the words out, embarrassment evident in his words. "Common pretty boy just use your words." Your tone makes him grip the back of your shirt.

He mumbles something under his breath you cant hear. "Use. Your. Words." You voice is sterner than before and it makes Gojo gulp. "Fuck me," after a heavy breath "please."

His desperate voice makes your dick get harder. When you starts to pull at Gojo's pants he lifts his hips to help you. Under your breath you say 'there you go.' “Someones excited” You smile, tracing the bulge through his boxers. “All for me?” You tease into his ear, slowly moving your hands to palm him.

Gojo let's out a deep moan at the feeling. “Hurry up.” He whines, bucking his hips up into his hands. You pull at his boxers, bringing them down past his knees and let him kick them off.

You look down to where Gojo is trying to close his legs but can't with you between them. “So pretty but you gotta keep your legs open baby.” You tell him while puts hands on his knees and keeping them open.

"Sorry.” He whines at being so exposed and keeps his dead down cast. His hands are desperately holding onto you. One griping your shoulder, the other tangled in the hair at your neck.

Gojo vaguely registers the sound of a lube bottle opening but doesn't process it till he feels your slick hand on him. He gasps in suprise but it quickly turns into a wavering moan.

After a minute of prep you line yourself up to thrust into him. "I'll go slow, promise." He nods his head in understanding. You slowly slide in, careful to not hurt him.

"Fuck- so full." Gojo mumbles out more curses while leaning his head down onto your shoulder. He grips your shoulders when you fully thrust in. He arches his back at the feels and you can see the tears bubbling up in his closed eyes.

"Doing so good for me." He whimpers at the praise. You slowly start to thrust your hips faster as Gojo starts to to get used to the feeling. One hand grips his waist and the other starts to pump his length.

He can feel the pleasure bubbling inside him, his legs shake from where they are wrapped around your waist. Gojo can tell he looks pathetic but he can't bring himself to care when you are treating him so well.

Somehow you must know he's about to come from the way you smile and lean in to bite at his flushed neck. After another minute of pleasure he can tell you are getting close to and starts babbling incoherently.

"It's ok, promise. Just let go." He whimpers with a tight grip on your forarm. "Fuck, fuck, fuck I can't. S-so good." A high pitched whine tears through his throat. Your hips thrusts faster into him to match the pase of you hand on him.

The sheet beneath you gets pulled and crumpled from how hard Gojo is gripping it. For a split second you think it might tear, the worry is thrown out the window from how pretty he looks like this.

Tears run from his bright eyes and down his flushed face. There's a light coat of sweat that covers his torso and shaking legs. The moans pouring from his lips are sinful music to your ears. "Cumming- I'm, I'm cumming." He mumbled between gasps of air.

"Good boy just let it go. I've got you." With a final thrust of your hips and hand he comes with a choked off moan. Following suit after him you still your hips, just barley moving your hands to help him through the after shocks.

Your panting breath and Gojo's quiet whimpers are all that can't be heard in the room. You slowly set down the wobbly legs you were holding moments before.

When Gojo doesn't talk you start to worry, "Satoru? You ok?" He nods, moving a hand to his chest where just a minute earlier he came all over. "I feel gross though, aren't you supposed to give me princess treatment after this?"

Although his voice is horse and shaky you can hear the joke in it. You chuckle and shake your head. "Of course only the best treatment for you princess." You joke back giving him a kiss on the cheek with a smile.

[darksigns-exe]

crystal clear - noah sebastian x f!reader

warnings: swearing, fingering (f receiving), more big feelings

word count: 2.7k

masterlist | read pt 1 here | taglist sign-up

It’s almost midnight by the time you’re done eating and have cleaned everything up again. Noah had made no mention of what had happened just a little while earlier. He’d just moved on as if nothing had changed, while you could feel yourself burning up from the inside out. The spot on your neck where he had left his mark still feels so raw when you brush your fingers against it. You can still feel his hands on your body. 

He slumps down next to you, stretching his legs out across the carpet. 

You don’t know how to move on from this. 

No matter how hard you try, you can’t stop thinking about the way he’d kissed you. You’d never be able to uncross this lines – not that you wanted to. 

Noah lets out a yawn, letting his head thump against your shoulder. 

“Mind if I stay here tonight? Don’t wanna drive back.” he mumbles in that faux pouty tone of his. 

“Thought that was the plan?” you reply, bumping your head against his. 

“I didn’t want to assume.” 

He suddenly sounds so hesitant and insecure, and maybe that’s what makes you realise that this is just as daunting for him as it is for you. 

“I was hoping that you’d stay.” you trail off, hoping that he’ll pick up on what you’re alluding to. 

“That so?” Noah sits up, turning to face you, “We should talk first, though.” 

As much as you want to drag him back to you, you know that this conversation needs to happen. And the sooner it happens, the better. 

“I don’t know where to start.” you admit, writhing your hands together. 

He reaches across to take your hands into his, “Neither do I but – I meant what I said earlier. I’ve been trying to find a good moment for this for a while now, but it never felt like the right time. And then you kept telling about how all of these people were just making you feel worse – I had to try, even at the chance that you wouldn’t feel that way for me.” 

You want to reach out and smooth the deep set furrow in his brow, but with him still holding on to your hands, all you can do is squeeze his hands. 

“I’m glad you did.” “So am I.” he replies, scooting a little closer to you, “If you want to I’d like to give this a shot. Take you out on a date and everything.”

“One condition.” 

Maybe you’re pushing it but breaking the tension feels like a good thing right now. 

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

“I want flowers.”

He breaks into a bright smile, “Oh, you’ll get so many flowers. Every day. As many as you want.” 

Within the blink of an eye, you find yourself on your back once again. The sudden movement makes you laugh, which in turn breaks Noah. And when he kisses you this time, it’s all smiles. You thread your fingers into his hair as he trails a soft line of kisses along your neck. 

You’ll never get enough of the softness on his face, the gentle adoration that simmers just below the surface. 

“Let me take you to bed?” he asks so gently that it makes you shiver all over. 

“Please.” you sigh in response. 

You’ve shared a bed with Noah on multiple occasions. He has stayed over at your place so often that he has a small stash of clothes in your dresser. But no matter how often you’ve woken up next to him, it’s all different now. Sitting next to him on top of your bed feels a little new and strange. Noah seems to be just as hesitant as you are. And really, you get it. It’s a big thing. He knows that you haven’t been intimate with anyone before, and you can’t imagine that he’s taking this lightly. 

This time, you’re the one who reaches out first. There’s a slight tremble to his hand when yours wraps around it. 

“We don’t have to do this right now. We can just get comfortable and get to that whenever it happens.” you tell him, hoping that your worry for him isn’t too obvious.

Noah clears his throat, “I just want this to be perfect for you. My first time wasn’t good, and I don’t want you to feel bad about it later, too.” 

The quiet admission stings deep in your chest, “I don’t think I could feel bad about it with you. I know that you’ll take good care of me.” 

There’s a faint little smile on his face, a soft little thing that eases your worries and dampens the sting. 

“I’ll do my best.” he replies, squeezing your hand, “If something feels off please tell me, okay?”

“Noah.” you warn, earning yourself another bright smile from him. 

He eyes you for a long moment, smile still playing on his lips. 

“Think I could kiss you again?” he sounds so adorably sheepish then, and you can’t possibly say no to him.

The kiss that follows is impossibly sweet. Noah’s hand behind your head keeps you close to him, but there’s nothing controlling about this. You soon find yourself on your back, with Noah once again hovering over you. The warm weight of his body comforts the nervous edge in your mind. You know what’s coming, but you know that you’ll be safe and well taken care of with him. 

His hand drifts up the side of your body, slowly working its way under the fabric of your shirt. His palm is warm against your skin, his touch much softer than you had expected. 

“How about we get this off you?” he asks, toying with the hem of your shirt. 

There’s a blip of insecurity in your mind, but it passes as soon as you lift the garment over your head and the breath visibly catches in Noah’s throat. His eyes flicker across your bared chest, unable to settle on a single spot. You’ve never seen him this hesitant as when he reaches out to brush the tips of his fingers against the skin of your tummy. It’s almost as if he’s in disbelief at seeing you like this. 

You reach towards him, almost mirroring his own touch. Noah reacts a little delayed, slowly taking his own shirt off. His breath hitches when your fingers make contact with his skin. 

You don’t quite understand how something that is so very familiar to you, can feel this new. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but drawing the tips of your fingers across the intricate lines that decorate his body gives you an entirely new perspective. Noah lets out a breathy little laugh when you find a particularly sensitive spot. 

“You’re so beautiful.” his voice comes barely above a whisper, disbelief still evident on his features. 

You want to counter his words, tell him that you think the same about him. But the words just won’t come to you. Thankfully, Noah takes your mind off it when he leans down to kiss you once more. From here, his lips make a slow descent along your jaw and neck. You feel teeth grazing across the skin of your collarbones. He soothes barely there sting with a gentle kiss. You sigh when he repeats the motion, one hand weaving into his hair. His lips find the apex of your breasts, placing soft kisses there too. The attention he gives you is maddening. 

He’s so very carefully when he helps you remove the remained of your clothes, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. He’d stripped down to his briefs at some point, but with the rush of information and sensation, you must have missed when. 

Noah kneels between your parted thighs, one of his hands placed comfortable on top of your thigh, while the other toys with the hem of your panties. His eyes drift across your body, stretched out in front of him. The shyness you had expected to feel is nowhere to be found. Instead, you feel so very comfortable beneath his glance. 

“Oh darling.” he says with a sigh, dragging the backs of his fingers across your still clothed centre.

You gasp, not used to this kind of touch from someone else. 

He keeps is voice low and soft, “You're so wet already, and we haven’t even done anything yet. Can I take these off too?” 

You nod, feeling a little too shaky to speak.

“Push up a little for me.” he says, tapping your hip. 

Noah works the fabric down your waist and legs, letting them disappear somewhere out of your sight. His fingers caress the inside of your thighs, not quite touching where you want him to touch. You are by no means a stranger to touching yourself. You know how to get yourself off, but the anticipation of someone else touching you like that fills your head with fuzz. 

His thumb drags through your folds so slowly and carefully. Your eyes fall shut when he circles it around your clit. Noah mumbles something to himself, but the words don’t reach your ears. You feel fingers tracing along your entrance, and your breath catches when the tip of his middle finger dips inside. 

“Do you always get wet like this, or is this just for me?” he asks, sounding almost amused, “Does that feel good?”

You whine out a yes in reply, earning you a soft chuckle from him. 

He carefully eases his finger inside, paying close attention to the sounds you make in reaction. The digit curls inside you, drawing another new noise from you. 

“I love the sounds you make. Sound so sweet.” He muses, eyes focused entirely on where his finger works in and out of you. 

A second finger joins the first, still so very careful. With his thumb drawing slow circles on your clit, you can start to feel yourself unravel. The attention Noah pays to you makes your head spin. His softly whispered words don’t reach your conscious mind. Your mind can’t focus on anything in particular, flipping between sensations by the second. One moment it’s the intent curl of his fingers inside you, the next it’s the warmth of his palm on your hip. A whine catches in your throat, breath hitching as your climax slowly creeps up on you. As much as you try to keep your eyes open, you fail miserably. That floaty feeling only becomes stronger, slowly dragging you under. 

You’re right on the edge of it. Noah’s hand wraps around yours, holding it just tight enough. 

“You’re right there, aren’t you, baby?” he coaxes, fingers now moving faster and more intent than before, “There you go, just let go for me. That’s it.”

Your own fingers would never come close to this, and really you weren’t sure if you’d ever be satisfied with the highs you could bring yourself to. You’re sure that your grip on his hand is getting too tight, but you can’t will yourself to let go of him. Noah doesn’t let up, keeps working his fingers inside of you as you fall apart on his fingers. Only when your whines take on a pained edge does he ease up and slowly removes the digits from you. 

You give yourself a moment before you dare to open your eyes. When you do, you find Noah already looking at you. You can’t describe the expression on his face as anything less than adoration. You try your best to memorise the moment, just for the worst case scenario that you’ll never see this again. 

His thumb drifts across the back of your hand, effectively drawing you out of your thoughts. 

“How was that? Good?” there’s a trace of the same kind of worry in his voice that you hear when he asks if you like the song he’s been working on. 

“I don’t think that it’s ever felt this good.” you admit quietly. 

The worry is immediately replaced by that cocky smile of his, the kind that makes you want to push him over, “If you’re up for it, I think I can make it even better.” 

You can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him. 

Noah breaks a second after that, and the soft sound of his laugh is like music to your ears. He folds over, forehead coming to rest against your tummy. His breath tickles against your skin. You decide that he’s entirely too far away from you and bring your hand back into his hair to tug him upwards to you. Noah follows all too easily. He meets you in a clumsy kiss, still smiling when he pulls away from you a moment later. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly, still so very close to you, “Good to go on or do you want to finish this later?” 

“Don’t you dare.” you try to sound serious, but you can already feel yourself smiling around the words. 

“Alright, alright. One problem, I didn’t think this was going to happen. I don’t have anything with me.” he sits up a little, suddenly sounding a lot more serious, “If you’d feel better with a condom we can wait.” 

You consider your options for a moment. As much as you want this now, you can’t help but worry. Even with Noah’s assurance that there’s nothing to worry about from his side, the caution that has been beaten into you wins. 

There’s no disappointment on his face when you tell him that you want to wait. Instead, his hand finds its way to the side of your face. 

“It’s okay.” the genuine softness on his face eases the fear in your chest a little, “We don’t need to rush into this.”

“I’ve been waiting for so long –” 

He shakes his head, “I know, darling. I know it feels like you’re missing out, but I’d rather do this right than rushed. And either way, I’m not going anywhere.”

You shoot him a questioning look. 

“Did you really think that I was going to just let us go back to before? I mean, unless you want that –”

This time, you’re the one who stops him from rambling. You pull him in for a kiss, silencing him before his worrying derails entirely. 

“I’m guessing that means we don’t go back to just friends?” he asks, that little bit of smile still fixed on his face. 

“I don’t think I could go back to seeing you as just a friend even if I wanted to.” 

Noah pulls himself away from you, looking somewhat reluctant to put distance between you, “Good. Don’t think I could do that either.” 

“So what does that make us?” you ask quietly. 

Noah is quiet for a long moment. You can practically see the gears turning in his head. 

“I don’t wanna do this whole let’s see where this take us thing. I like you – too much, dance around this for ages. We’ve done enough of that already.” 

“So what I’m hearing is that you don’t want to pretend to be my boyfriend when a weird guy tries to chat me up in a bar any more?” 

“Won’t have to pretend.” he replies so softly, “This won’t be easy, but I think we can make it work.”

“We managed to keep this friendship running while you’re off doing your thing.” you counter quickly, “Will be worth it either way.” 

His smile widens at that, “We’ll make this work.”

“We will.” you reply, stifling a yawn, “But that can wait until tomorrow – later today.” 

When you had found him on your sofa earlier that night, you hadn’t thought that you would end the night curled up against him like this. Or that any of this would happen for that matter. He’s held you like this before, but now, with his warm hands resting against the skin of your tummy, you feel so very comforted. You feel Noah press another kiss to your cheek, you’ve lost count of how many kisses he’s pressed to your skin since your talk, but they all make you feel soft and warm inside. 

Behind you, Noah lets out a content sigh, as his arms tighten around you, and suddenly you wonder how you’ve ever gone without this.

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[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Interruption | Part 05

-> Pairing: mafia husband!Kim Hongjoong x mafia wife!Reader

-> Sypnosis: As her team searches for Mi-Rae, Y/N refuses to leave her husband's side. She starts reminiscing about the first time she met him.

-> Warnings: mafia au. Italics are flashbacks. pocket knife used to threaten someone. poor description of physical violence. Y/N is kind of a psychotic badass. Hints at how Y/N and Hongjoong were destined to meet. more of a fill in chapter. Flashback scene Hongjoong is 18 and Y/N is 17 thats why it hints at them still being in school.

-> Word Count: 2,183 - longest chapter so far, can't make any promises that the rest will be this long but I can try.

-> Taglist: open. Leave a comment on the masterlist post, send an ask or fill out the taglist form.

Interruption Masterlist | Hongjoong Masterlist | Tag List Form

When Seonghwa and a staff member bringing food for Y/N walk into the room, they find Y/N slouched over the bed where an unconscious Hongjoong lies. Her head is resting gently on the bed, and one of her hands is holding onto her husband's as if she’s afraid to let go. While her team have been searching for Mi-Rae, she stayed remaining by her husband’s side, not once leaving him since he got out of surgery a week ago. 

“Just put the food on the table,” Seonghwa instructs the staff member, who nods and promptly follows the order before exiting the room.  

Seonghwa then takes a moment to take in the scene before him. The dim light casts gentle shadows across the room, highlighting the worry lines on Y/N's face. It’s clear that the weight of the world rests on her shoulders, and yet, she remains strong and resilient, determined to shield her vulnerability from even those who know her best. 

With a soft sigh, Seonghwa picks up a spare blanket from the chair in the corner, its fabric soft and warm. He approaches Y/N carefully, not wanting to disturb her fragile peace. Gently, he drapes the blanket over her shoulders to keep her warm in the chilly makeshift hospital room.  

As the fabric brushes against her skin, she stirs, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal a pair of tired eyes. For a moment, Y/N blinks in confusion, her mind still foggy from sleep. When her gaze finally focuses, she finds Seonghwa's concerned expression.  

“I didn’t hear you come in,” she says as she straightens herself from her slouched position. 

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he replies softly, his tone laced with empathy. “You were finally getting some sleep.”  

"Have there been any updates?" she asks him, not wanting to talk about her lack of sleep or care for herself.  

"I'm afraid not," he regrets to inform her. "Wherever she is, she's managed to stay hidden. We're still checking potential locations and speaking to anyone who might have information about her whereabouts and anyone who could be hiding her." His words are steady, but she can hear the frustration and worry in his tone. 

Y/N feels her shoulders droop at his response, the burden of uncertainty weighing heavily on her like a thick mist. She turns her gaze back to Hongjoong, his stillness a stark reminder of the turmoil they’ve faced. Her heart aches at the sight of him, so vulnerable and not quite himself. Their time together is typically filled with joy and laughter, but right now, everything feels different. The days feel colder without the sound of his laughter and voice when he would randomly burst into song, the warmth of his embrace, how he could turn any mundane task into something enjoyable, and the sense of safety and love he brings her. 

She turns back to Seonghwa, a newfound determination etched on her face. "Tell the men to stop being so soft. I don’t fucking care if someone ends up losing an eye. Someone out there knows something."  

"I'll make sure to tell them that," he replies with a nod. "Now, there’s food on the table. Please eat something," he adds, sounding like a caring parent. "And try to get some more rest. Wooyoung or I will wake you if we find out anything." 

Before Y/N can say anything back, he leaves the room, leaving no room for argument. Glancing at the table, she sees the small square table covered with plates and bowls of untouched food. She knows she should eat, but the knot in her stomach makes it hard to even think about food. 

Choosing to eat later, she shifts her focus back to Hongjoong. Taking his hand in hers, she kisses the back of it gently. "I can’t do this without you, Joongie. You need to wake up," she whispers, her voice trembling as tears well up in her eyes once more. She squeezes his hand tighter, as if her grip alone could pull him out of his unconsciousness. "You’re the strongest person I know," she continues, her voice breaking. "You better come back to me." Dropping her head, the tears start to spill over as she fights to keep her composure.  

"Do you remember when we first met?" she asks, spinning his wedding ring around his finger, trying to distract herself from breaking down completely. Despite getting no answer, she continues, "I saved your ass from those little punks that were roughing you up in that side street. "

The moment she utters those words, she’s transported back to the day she first met Hongjoong.  

Y/N, clutching her bag straps, paid no attention to her surroundings as she kicked a pebble along the path leading to the bus stop, she needed to be at to catch the bus home. She was far from happy after her driver failed to show up to pick her up from school. But something soon caught her attention as she walked past a little side street that was mostly used for vans and trucks to drop things off. To the shops that backed onto it.  

Curious, she retraced her steps and turned into the alley, where she spotted five boys, likely around her age or a bit older in their school uniforms, beating up another boy who seemed to be her age as well. 

As she heard the boy let out a pained groan from a harsh kick to his side, she quickly pulled out the pocket knife she always carried for emergencies. 

“Yah!” she yells, drawing the bullies' attention to her as she approaches them. 

"I'd keep walking if I were you, princess," one of the bully's sneers at her. "This has nothing to do with you." 

“It has everything to do with me,” she shot back. "You’re hurting my friend," she declares, even though she has never met the boy they were attacking before. The words slipped out before she could think, but there is something about the way he was curled up on the ground, vulnerable and scared. It reminded her of the situation she’d been in a few years prior and that ignited a protectiveness for the boy. 

"Your friend?" one of the boys scoffed, stepping forward with a menacing grin. "I know for a fact that he has no friends. Why don’t you just run along before you get hurt too?" 

“Try me,” she says holding the knife out towards them.  

The boy who had just spoken started to advance when another boy held him back. “Hold on, I know her,” he said, drawing the attention of the group. “I think she’s Kim Dong-Yul’s niece.” 

“Yeah, so what?” the first boy scoffed, though his confidence wavered slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean? You think we’re scared of some old man?” 

"You should be," the second boy spoke. 

A third boy speaks up, "I don't think it's him you have to worry about. She's a complete psycho. From what I've been told, she lit fire to another girl's hair because she stole her seat. " 

"Yah! She didn't steal my seat, she stole my Lipton Peach Iced Tea," Y/N shot back, clearly offended by their misunderstanding. “Now should I also set you all on fire,” she asks, reaching back into her pocket to pull out the lighter she had in there for no reason at all. Her other hand still holding the knife towards them, ready to be used if it came down to it. 

The boy hesitated, glancing at his friends, who were now shifting uncomfortably. She could see the wheels turning in their minds, until the first boy, clearly the leader of the group of them, spoke again, “Look, we don’t want any trouble. We were just messing around.” 

“Messing around?” she echoed, her grip tightening on the knife. “You call this messing around? You’re terrorizing someone who hasn’t done anything to you. You’re just a pathetic loser.” 

The third boy, who had mentioned the rumor, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly regretting his involvement. “Maybe we should just go,” he suggested, his voice barely above a whisper. “The last thing we need is Kim Dong-Yul on our asses. It isn’t worth it.”  

“Yeah, maybe you should,” Y/N shot back, her eyes narrowing. “And if you ever think about messing with someone again, just know that I can find out where you live, where your parents work and what your little sister likes to eat. You don’t want to know what I can do with that info.” 

“Let’s go,” the first boy finally says and turns to leave, the others following suit.  

“Assholes,” She mutters under her breath before turning her attention to the boy they were tormenting. He was now sitting up clutching his side. “Are you okay?” she asks, taking off her bag as she crouched down to his level.  

“Did you really set a girls hair on fire over a drink?” he asks, watching her unzip her backpack and pull out a small first aid kit. 

"No," she replied, shaking her head with a chuckle. As she opened the kit, she pulled out a cleaning swab to tend to the cut above his eye, which looked like the worst of his external injuries. "I mean, it wasn’t over a stolen drink. It was an accident," she added, tossing the bloody swabs aside and reaching for a band-aid. 

“That sounds like a pretty big accident.” he says, skepticism lacing his voice. 

“Let’s just say, accident or not accident, she never bothered me or the other girls afterwards,” she says, placing the band-aid over the cut. 

“I’m guessing you’re some sort of anti-hero,” He smirks slightly, his deep brown eyes onto hers with an intensity that makes her teenage heart skip a beat.  

For a moment, the world around them fades away. She can feel her cheeks flush, a warmth spreading through her. “Anti-hero? I don’t know about that,” she replies, a shy smile creeping onto her lips as she finishes securing the band-aid. “I just don’t like bullies, that’s all,” She glances down, suddenly aware of how close they are. The air between them crackles with an unexpected tension, a mix of adrenaline and something else she can’t quite place because she’s pretty sure she’s never felt it before. She clears her throat, trying to shake off the warmth rushing to her cheeks. “I mean, it’s not like I go around purposefully setting their hair on fire.” 

He chuckles softly, the sound warm and inviting but winces when it causes him pain. She can’t help but feel a pang of concern for him.  

“Seriously, though, are you okay?” she asks, her brow furrowing as she studies his face. The cut above his eye is small but deep, and she can see the remnants of a bruise beginning to form. She can only guess his ribs weren’t doing too well either. “You should probably go get checked out.”  

He shrugs, a nonchalant gesture that doesn’t quite mask the pain in his eyes. “I’ve had worse.” He pauses, as he stands up with her help. “But I appreciate your help.”  

“Y/N,” she replies instinctively, her voice steady despite the concern swirling within her. 

“I promise, I’ll be fine, Y/N,” he assures her, as he slings his backpack over his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll see you around,” he smiles, making her heart flutter once more before he limps away leaving her alone in the little side street. 

“Ugh, stupid heart,” she mutters, glancing down at her chest, but a smile tugs at her lips. She can’t shake the feeling that this encounter was more than just a chance meeting. Realizing she never got his name, she goes to catch up with him. As she reaches the main street, she looks both ways hoping to catch a glimpse of him but can’t find him anywhere.  

Little did she know at the time, she would be seeing him again only a few hours later. 

“I knew that us meeting in that side street wasn’t just a coincidence,” she says, lifting her gaze to Hongjoong, a small part of her hoping to see those brown eyes she loves so much looking back at her only to be disappointed when they weren’t. “You had me feeling things I’d never felt before,” she says, kissing the back of his hand again before resting it against her cheek. “I really can’t do this without you, Joong.” 

“Boss?” she hears from behind her.  

She straightens up once again, wiping the tears from her eyes. Standing up she turns around to face Wooyoung.  

"We have a lead," he tells her before she has to ask. "An informant told us Mi-Rae could be hiding out at the docks, trying to escape Korea. I had a few men ask around. She was spotted there by three people. One mentioned seeing her this morning." 

“Alright, flush her out and hold her until I get there,” she tells him. He nods and leaves the room. She turns back to Hongjoong and leans down, kissing his cheek. “I’ll be back soon, my love.” 

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